Uruguay

As to the international jealousies of a later era, they have not been without their influence upon the domestic affairs of the central State. Thus on not a few occasions the result of foreign diplomacy has been civil war within the boundaries of Uruguay, with consequences that were necessarily disastrous to the nation. The Banda Oriental is a land of sunshine, it is true, but one of shadow too, which is logical enough, since without the former the latter cannot obtain. Its metaphorical sunshine is represented by the undoubted merits of its inhabitants, its temporary shadows by the circumstances in which they have found themselves placed.

He would be no real friend of Uruguay who strove to show that the march of the country has not been rudely arrested on innumerable occasions. Indeed, were it not for the conditions that have prevailed for centuries, the actual forward steps that the Republic has effected would be far less remarkable than is in reality the case. The history of Uruguay reveals a continuous medley of peace and war. Its swords have been beaten into ploughshares and welded back again into lethal weapons ere the metal had cooled from the force of the former operation.

Each series of such transformations, moreover, has occurred at intervals sufficiently short to destroy utterly the hopes and prosperity of an ordinary people. Over and over again the Uruguayans have strewn the battlefields with their dead; yet during each interval they have continued to plant the soil with its proper and more profitable seed. An extraordinary vitality on the part of the people joined to the natural wealth of the land have been the factors by means of which the small Republic has brushed away the results of its wars as lightly as though such convulsions were summer showers.

The history of Uruguay reveals an admirable amount of pure heroism. Apart from the fighting merits that are inborn and natural to the race, the most unsympathetic reader of its past pages cannot deny to it the innumerable instances of self-sacrifice that were the fruit of loftier ideals. Of the many vivid battle scenes that were painted in too deadly an earnest against their neighbours and even amongst themselves, there are few that are not relieved by some illuminating act of heroism, for all the utter ferocity and courage by which these conflicts were wont to be marked. Uruguay, in fact, was something of a South American Switzerland; but a Switzerland bereft of the lofty peaks and mountain tops that assisted the men of the Cantons against the Austrians, endowed, moreover, with a more restless and undisciplined folk of its own. Yet in many respects the resemblance holds good, and for one reason most of all. The Orientales rested not until they had won their freedom. Not once but several times they were forced to wrest it from the stranger ere it finally became secure.

At later periods, too, it is not to be denied that the greater bulk of the neighbouring nations has stood out remorselessly between Uruguay and the sunlight. There have been times when the small Republic has been ground between the great mills of Argentina and Brazil. Thus her progress—steady and all but continuous in spite of the civil wars and revolutions that have torn her—has been achieved all but unnoticed and entirely unapplauded. Europeans, and many South Americans too, read of the Uruguayan battlefields and deeds of arms, yet they learn nothing of the undercurrent of industry that has flowed onwards all the while beneath the turbulence of the wild warrings. Nevertheless, this progress has been very real, and that it must become apparent to the world before long is certain. Even to the present day Uruguay amongst nations has remained "a violet by a mossy stone, half hidden from the eye." To the ordinary person who passes between Europe and South America, Montevideo represents little beyond a whistling station between the two important halts at Buenos Aires and Rio de Janeiro. In justice to the Banda Oriental's neighbour be it said that this ignorance does not apply to the actual resident in Argentina, and least of all to the dwellers in Buenos Aires. To them the commercial importance and general attractions of Uruguay and its capital are well enough known. This interest, however, is merely local, and fails to extend beyond the familiar radius of the pleasant little Republic's influence.

Commercially speaking, it is difficult to understand how the factors that have now arisen to drag the Banda Oriental from its undeserved oblivion can well fail in their task. The linking of the country by railway with Brazil, the influence that the imminent cessation of the North American beef exportation is bound to exert upon a stock-breeding country, to say nothing of the internal progress already referred to, must undoubtedly result sooner or later in bringing the gallant little nation into the light of publicity.

A fusion of warring parties, an end of civil strife, and a strict attention to the less risky and more profitable business of the day should follow in the natural sequence of events. Very hale, hearty, and jovial though he is, it must be admitted that the Oriental is in deadly earnest when engaged in civil battle—as is the case with all who pursue a hobby to the detriment of a more lucrative occupation. Yet the substitution of gunshots for the suffrage is not only expensive, but, from the polling point of view, unpleasantly devoid of finality.

The distinctions between the political arrangements of Uruguay and Argentina are curiously marked. For generations the latter country has been governed by a succession of groups that have respectively formed and dissolved without leaving any marked cleavage in the society of the nation. Strictly speaking, Argentina possesses neither faction spirit nor party. Uruguay, on the other hand, is concerned first and foremost with these very matters of party.

The history of the Colorados and the Blancos—the reds and whites—would in itself suffice to fill a volume. Probably in no other part of the world have the pure considerations of clan triumphed to such an extent over the general political situation. Until the present day the line between the rival camps has been as absolute as that between life and death. The position of either is immutable. Neither argument, mode of government, nor the vicissitudes of state are among the considerations by which they are affected. A man is born one of two things—a Blanco or a Colorado. This birthright, moreover, is to be exchanged for no mere mess of pottage; it is valued above the price of life itself. Such, at all events, has been the creed of the past, and to a large extent it still holds good, although the stress of modern influence is just beginning to leave its mark upon the cast-iron prejudices that are the relicts of another age.

At the same time, it must not be inferred from this that the Uruguayan is ignorant or small-minded. Far from it. Education enjoys an exceptionally high standard throughout the country, and a most liberal breadth of view is typical of the nation. This is readily admitted, and even insisted upon, by foreigners whose dealings with the native-born dwellers in the Republic have placed them in a position to render an accurate judgment. In internal politics, however, there are prejudices, considerations of clan, and points of honour that are not to be gauged from a purely commercial standpoint.

The foreigner in Uruguay is accorded a most complete liberty, and there are few of these who have resided for any length of time within its frontiers who have not become very truly attached to the land and its people.

It has frequently been my lot to pass over from Argentina to Uruguay, arriving at one of the minor ports that dot the middle reaches of the great river. But it so happened that I had never landed, bag and baggage, at the capital until the time came for a regular and organised spying out of the land. An incident at the start lent a very pleasing aspect to the visit. The customs-house officer, in whose hands lay the fate of the interior of my baggage, gazed from where it lay piled upon the official trestle in the direction of its owner. "Inglez?" he demanded in the curt tone of one in authority. When I had signified assent he smiled cordially, sketched with rapid fingers the magic chalk marks upon the impedimenta, and then motioned me to pass through the portals with all the honours of customs, locks unviolated, and straps in repose.

I have not introduced this incident from any personal motives. It merely affords an instance of a very genuine courtesy rendered to the nation through the medium of one of its most humble units. Yet it is from such attentions to a stranger that the trend of the general attitude may be gleaned. The English are not a little addicted to a frank confession of their unpopularity amongst the South Americans in general. The attitude may be the result of a certain pose, since they claim full credit for the respect that is undoubtedly theirs by right. Nevertheless, whether imagined or real, the idea obtains.

In Uruguay at the present moment the Englishman is so obviously not unpopular that it is gratifying to be able to proclaim the fact. Whatever the fates may have in store the existing understanding between the Uruguayans and the British is very cordial and complete. In words as well as in deeds it is perhaps advisable to let well alone. Yet it is satisfactory to reflect that innumerable practical proofs show that this mutual esteem which has existed for centuries has never been more firmly grafted than at the present day. There can be no doubt, moreover, that the present satisfactory phase is very largely due to the efforts of Mr. R. J. Kennedy, the British Minister Plenipotentiary and Envoy Extraordinary, whose tact and conscientious ability have won for him respect and popularity on the part of Uruguayans and resident British alike—a consummation to which it is the lot of sufficiently few ministers to attain.

Although internal disturbances may continue to arise from time to time, the position of Uruguay is now undoubtedly consolidated to a far greater extent than has ever been the case in former years. The nation that sprang into being at the commencement of the nineteenth century had to contend with indefinite frontiers at the best of times, and with the frequent waves of turbulence that swept inwards over the land from the greater centres of disturbance without its borders. Now for many decades an undisturbed peace has characterised the foreign affairs of the nation, and such differences as have occurred from time to time with the neighbouring republics have been settled in an essentially pacific and reasonable spirit.

A striking instance of this has occurred quite recently in the case of the vexed question concerning the delimitation of neutral waters in the River Plate. The rights affecting a great inland and international highway are naturally most delicate and difficult to adjust, as the past history of the entire river system here has proved on numerous occasions. In this particular instance had either Uruguay or Argentina shown any other but a fair and conciliatory spirit, the consequences cannot fail to have been serious in the extreme. As it was, the dispute was brought to a satisfactory and amicable conclusion, much to the credit of the respective diplomatists concerned.

For many years now the policy of the Banda Oriental Government has been practical and deliberate. In matters of finance extreme caution has been exercised, and economy in expenditure has been rigid. The result is now evident in the very favourable financial position of the Republic, since it is now endowed with more solid monetary sinews than has ever been the case before. The nation, moreover, is free from any excessive expenditure on its army and navy. Both branches of the service are on a small scale, and in this moderation Uruguay is undoubtedly wise; since, although the race possesses its fighting instincts to the full, the population and resources of the Republic would not allow it to compete either in numbers, guns, or ships with the armies of the neighbouring countries, or with the great naval armaments that are being brought together.

In the past there is no doubt that matters in Uruguay have been regarded with a certain amount of pessimism—a gloomy view for which the alleged instability of the Government was chiefly responsible. Were all that has been said on this head strictly accurate, there is no doubt that the condition of the country would be parlous indeed. On numberless occasions, however, the reports that have prevailed have been remarkable merely for their exaggeration. Frequently, moreover, such highly coloured—or rather darkened—pictures have been depicted to serve interests in Europe rather than in Uruguay. Commercially speaking, it is surely a matter for congratulation that even such a disturbing element as civil strife should have left the financial solidity of the Republic unimpaired.

This point of view, however, is merely the financial one—important enough in its place, but not sufficiently overwhelming to eliminate all the other interests at stake. The spirit of progress has been abroad, not only in the ethics of the pastures, banks, and business houses, but in the more subtle fields of science, literature, and art as well. This, however, is not the place in which to introduce details or statistics concerning the improvements in the various ramifications of the nation's existence. For the present let the statement suffice that in no direction has a retrograde movement been perceptible: on the contrary, a continuous progress has been evident in almost every matter from the curing of beef to the making of scholars—two products that are equally essential to the welfare of the land.

CHAPTER II

HISTORY

The discovery of Uruguay—Reception by the Indians—Juan de Solis and his fate—Navigation of the River Plate—Serrano and Magellanes—Rivalry between Spaniards and Portuguese—The first settlement in the Banda Oriental—Aggressive tactics of the Indians—Forts destroyed by them—Colonisation under difficulties—The introduction of cattle—A prophetic move—Intervention of the missionaries—Jesuit settlements established—Uruguay's isolation comes to an end—Influence of the livestock—Cattle-raiders—The first Portuguese invasion—Victory of the Spaniards, assisted by native auxiliaries—Treaties and their attendant troubles—The indecision of Old Spain—Partial extermination of the Indians—The town of Colonia as a bone of contention—Introduction of the first negro slaves into the provinces of the River Plate—Unrest on the Spanish main—Moreau, the buccaneer—The fate of his expedition—Portuguese invaders expelled by the Spaniards—A fort is constructed on the present site of Montevideo.

The early history of Uruguay needs but cursory recapitulation, since its episodes form part and parcel of the general discovery of the River Plate. Juan Diaz de Solis, the famous explorer of the great river, was the first leader in the Spanish service to set foot on Uruguayan soil. The precise point of his disembarkation is unknown, but it is certain enough that the spot lay somewhere just to the north of the island of Martin Garcia. His reception at the hands of the hostile Charrúa Indians, who at the time inhabited the district, was fatally inhospitable. Solis and many more of the landing party of fifty who accompanied him were slain by these natives almost as soon as they had landed, and the disheartened expedition returned to Spain.

It is supposed that Rodriguez Serrano was the first to sail the waters of the Uruguay River proper. In 1520, when anchored in the mouth of the River Plate on his way to the South, Magellane is supposed to have sent this subordinate of his some distance up the Uruguay. There is much, however, that is vague in the history of these particular waterways at this time. A certain material reason obtained for the mystery. The rivalry between the Spaniards and Portuguese tended towards a concealment on the part of each of discoveries that affected comparatively unknown and debatable areas. Thus there is no doubt that various Portuguese expeditions sailed the Uruguay River at this period; but the details of these are uncertain.

In 1527 Spain, fearing the possibilities of Portuguese influence, turned her attention once more to the great river system of the South. It was in that year that Cabot founded the fort of San Sebastian on the Uruguayan coast. This, at the confluence of the San Salvador River with the Uruguay, was the first Spanish settlement in the country. Its existence was short-lived. Attacked by the Charrúa Indians in 1529, the fort was destroyed and many of its garrison slain.

After this little was heard of the Uruguayan coast until, in 1552, Irala, the famous Governor of the River Plate, ordered Captain Juan Romero to found a settlement on that shore. Juan Romero set out with an expedition of 120 men, and founded the settlement of San Juan at the mouth of the river of the same name. This attempt was likewise unsuccessful. The Charrúas had to be reckoned with, and two years later the place was abandoned on account of their incessant attacks.

In 1573 another noted conquistador, Zarate, on the completion of his voyage from Europe, arrived at the island of San Gabriel. He founded a settlement on the neighbouring Uruguayan mainland, and the Charrúas for once received him with comparative hospitality. Nevertheless it was not long ere hostilities broke out, by reason of the Spaniard's own arrogance, it is said. In the end the Europeans were completely defeated by the famous chief Zapicán, losing over one hundred soldiers and various officers. The Spaniards then retired to the island of San Gabriel, leaving the aboriginal tribe in possession of the new township, which they immediately destroyed.

A short while after this Juan de Garay, afterwards famed as the founder of the modern Buenos Aires, arrived near the scene of the disaster. With a diminutive force (it is said by some that his expedition comprised no more than twelve cavalry and twenty-two infantry) he attacked Zapicán's army of a thousand men. The result was the rout of the Indians, in the course of which Zapicán and many other leading caciques perished. This action was fought in the neighbourhood of ruined San Salvador, and Zarate founded a new settlement on the ruins of the old. Triumph, however, was short-lived, for the Indians remained as fiercely persevering as ever, and three years later their aggressive tactics caused the establishment to be abandoned once again.

In 1603 it is said that Hernando Arias de Saavedra, the first colonial-born Governor of the River Plate, led an expedition of five hundred men against the Charrúas. Hernandarias, by which name the Governor was popularly known, was a famous warrior of whose prowess and feats of arms much is told. For all that, according to report, the defeat of the Spanish force was so complete that only Hernandarias, thanks to his tremendous personal strength, escaped from the field alive. It is probable, however, that this version of the fight is, to say the least of it, exaggerated.

The next move of Hernandarias in the direction of the Banda Oriental was of a more pacific nature. With a rare touch of wisdom and foresight he shipped from Buenos Aires to Colonia across the river one hundred head of cattle, and a like number of horses and mares. These, sent adrift to roam at their own sweet will in the new country, multiplied at least as fast as had been anticipated. The animals in question undoubtedly stand as the nucleus of the pastoral riches of to-day. Thus Hernandarias sent out wealth to the land that was closed to his men in order that it should seed and multiply until the time came for the European to take it over with the country itself.

In this earlier era of River Plate history the march of civilisation had been arrested at the first step in Uruguay on each occasion on which it had been undertaken. It was not until the beginning of the seventeenth century that success attended the endeavours of the Spaniards. In 1618 the first missionaries entered Uruguay. The Franciscan fathers Bernardo de Guzman, Villavicencio, and Aldao landed in that year at the mouth of the Rio, and converted to Christianity many members of the more peaceably disposed tribes. In 1624 Bernardo de Guzman founded the first Uruguayan Jesuit settlement, Santo Domingo de Soriano, and a little later the missions of Espinillo, Viboras, and Aldao were established in the present provinces of Soriano and Colonia. Larger and more important missions were shortly afterwards founded in the north, and formed a more or less integral portion of the great Jesuit field in Paraguay. At one time there were no less than thirty-seven of these stations existing within the frontiers of the old Banda Oriental as they were then defined. In consequence of the later Brazilian encroachments, however, the sites of only seven of these—San Francisco de Borga, San Nicolas, San Juan Bautista, San Luis Gonzaga, San Miguel, San Lorenzo, and Santa Angel—lie within the boundaries of the present Republic.

While in the north of Uruguay the Indians, taught by the missionaries, were now beginning to occupy themselves with agriculture and grazing, in the south the herds introduced by Hernandarias were multiplying amazingly. These were responsible for the visits of many who came over from Argentina to slay the cattle and to collect their hides. They were licensed by the Cabildo of Buenos Aires, who received a third of the profits. In order to facilitate this traffic in hides, these Faeneros, as they were termed, gradually established themselves upon the banks of the Uruguay and its tributaries, and upon the ocean coast. Thus the names of Cufré, Pavón, Toledo, Pando, Solis, Maldonado, and many others have been bequeathed to the soil by the merchant adventurers who trafficked in those spots, since each named his settlement after himself.

No little competition was afforded these Faeneros by the Changadores, adventurers of a more reckless order who made their incursions into the country without licence and against the law. Corresponding precisely to the buccaneers of the farther north, they slew where opportunity offered, taking refuge in Brazil when pursued, until their growing numbers enabled them from time to time to offer armed resistance to the officers of the Crown sent to chastise them. Attracted by this commerce, pirates, whether of Portuguese or other nationality, would occasionally make descents, and would raid and harry the cattle in their turn. The Indians, for their part, were not slow in availing themselves of this new and convenient source of livelihood, and, according to a Uruguayan writer became "carnivorous from necessity and equestrian from force of imitation." In 1680 a more serious danger threatened the Banda Oriental. At the beginning of that year a Portuguese fleet came to anchor off the island of San Gabriel. Eight hundred soldiers and a number of colonist families were disembarked at Colonia del Sacramento on the mainland, where they founded a township. On learning of this invasion the Governor of Buenos Aires, José de Garro, immediately demanded the evacuation of the place. As a reply to this request, Lobo, the Portuguese commander, triumphantly produced a map on which Colonia was represented as in Brazilian territory. A strenuous geographical discussion ensued, at the conclusion of which Garro, having failed to convince the intruders of the inaccuracy of the chart by more subtle arguments, resolved to expel the enemy by force.

With this end in view he obtained the loan of three thousand Indians from the Jesuits, who were by this time becoming accustomed to the lending of men and arms for such patriotic purposes. With this force, stiffened by the presence of three hundred Spaniards, he captured the hostile settlement, taking prisoners the Portuguese Governor and garrison.

It is related that the Spanish general had prepared a striking ruse de guerre that was to serve in this assault. Four thousand loose horses were to be driven to the front of the charging forces, and upon these animals the first devastation of the artillery fire of the defenders was to expend itself. The Indians, however, whose destined place was in the vanguard, raised some powerful objections to this scheme of attack. Considering with reason that a backward rush of the wounded and terrified beasts—like that of the elephants of a previous age—would promise greater disaster to themselves than to the enemy, they protested against the living bulwark with its many possibilities. Thus the town was captured without the aid of the horses, and the first of the many combats that reddened the shore of Colonia ended in favour of Spain.

This triumph was short-lived. In 1681 Carlos II. of Spain in a weak moment signed a treaty by which Colonia was given back to Portugal, to be held by her until a definite decision could be arrived at concerning the vexed question of ownership. In the meanwhile it was arranged that the geographical arguments should be settled by the pontifical authorities, whose expert knowledge upon the point was doubtful. The Portuguese, moreover, in order to obtain an added salve to their dignity, stipulated that Garro should be deprived of his post. This was complied with; but the result did not in the least coincide with the Portuguese expectations. Garro himself must have smiled broadly when he learned that he was deprived of his command at Buenos Aires in order to take over the superior governorship of Chile!

In 1702 a campaign was waged against the Indians. The tactics of the majority of the tribes had remained consistently aggressive, and their predatory interest in the commerce of hides and dried meat had developed to a pitch inconvenient to the settlers. The war, although its scope did not include the entire aboriginal population, was one of extermination so far as it went, and at its conclusion the sections of the Charrúas, Bohanes, and Yaros in the neighbourhood of the River Yi had practically ceased to exist.

In the meanwhile Colonia, in the hands of the Portuguese, had become the centre of contraband operations by means of which merchandise was smuggled into the sternly closed port of Buenos Aires. As a point of vantage it served so admirably for this purpose, and so greatly to the profit of both the Portuguese and of the more unscrupulous residents of Buenos Aires, that in 1705 Philip V. of Spain ordered its recapture in earnest.

For this purpose two thousand Spaniards and four thousand Jesuit Indians assembled. After a six months' strenuous siege of the place the Portuguese garrison fled in a fleet that had been sent to their rescue, and Colonia passed back into the hands of the Spaniards. But the vicissitudes of the spot were not yet at an end. Oblivious of the past, Philip V. by the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713 ceded the town to the Portuguese. Garcia Ros, the Governor of Buenos Aires, was of sterner mould. Taking advantage of a loosely worded clause in the treaty, he limited the Portuguese ownership of the soil to the radius of a cannon-shot from the plaza of the town. By this means the inconvenience of the occupation was to a certain extent neutralised.

About this time negro slaves were first introduced from Africa into the provinces of the River Plate. This measure had been originally urged by the famous Father Bartolomé de las Casas with a view of augmenting the local force of labour, and thus of alleviating the condition of the aboriginal races that in many parts were becoming exterminated on account of the excess of toil imposed upon them. This state of affairs, as a matter of fact, did not obtain in the Banda Oriental, where Indian and Spaniard stood entirely apart. Nevertheless an influx of negroes occurred in the province, and—though nothing can be said in favour of the morality of the proceeding—there is no doubt that, once arrived, their presence tended to benefit the industries of the land.

The period now was one of considerable unrest throughout the Spanish main. For some while the adventurers of other nations, seeking a share in the great riches of the South American provinces, had been knocking loudly at the gates that remained closely barred to them. Privateering and raids upon the coast had become more and more frequent, while the Spanish galleons, in continuous dread of attack, only put to sea for the purpose of long voyages in imposing numbers and beneath weighty escort. The River Plate, owing to the practical absence of the mineral traffic from its frontier, suffered far fewer depredations than fell to the lot of the gold and silver bearing countries to the north.

Yet the homelier riches of the pastoral districts were becoming known and appreciated to a certain extent. In consequence of this the waters of the River Plate from time to time had many unwelcome visitors. Privateers of all nationalities, although their enforced ignorance of the navigation forbade them to penetrate for any distance up the waters of the great streams themselves in the face of local opposition, harassed the coast-line, and occasionally landed in more or less formidable parties. One of the most notable of these was a French adventurer of the name of Moreau, whose buccaneering ideas were considerably in advance of those of the majority who were wont to harry these particular districts. Moreau's plan of campaign, in fact, savoured rather of regular warfare than of the more usual methods of the rapid raidings and retreats. Thus in 1720 he disembarked with a body of men and four cannon at Maldonado, where he fortified himself, and began to amass a great store of hides. Surprised by the Spaniards, he was forced to take to his ships in haste, with the loss of his guns and of his stock-in-trade. A few months later the Frenchman returned, accompanied this time by a force of over a hundred well-armed men, and prepared to settle himself for an extended stay in the country. Curiously enough, it appears to have been the unfortunate Moreau's fate to reverse the fighting rôles of the buccaneer and local resident, since, instead of surprising others, it was he who was caught unawares on either occasion. The termination of his second visit was more fatal than that of his first. Attacked when in an unprepared condition by the Spaniards, the defeat of the buccaneer force was complete. Moreau himself was slain, together with the greater part of his company, while the remainder were taken prisoners.

Freed from this source of danger, the inhabitants of the Banda Oriental were not long left without anxiety on another head. The Portuguese had never ceased to covet the rich land that might be made to serve as such a valuable and temperate pendant to their torrid northern areas. The River Plate stood to them in the light of a Rhine, and at the end of 1723 they awoke once more into aggressive activity. An expedition then left Rio de Janeiro consisting of four ships with three hundred soldiers. The force sailed to the point where the town of Montevideo now stands, at that time a lonely spot whose commercial and strategic importance was then for the first time discovered. Here the expedition landed, and in a short while its leaders had negotiated with the natives whom they found in the district, had supplied them with arms, and had founded a settlement. On learning of this aggression the Buenos Aires authorities determined to resist the attempt in earnest. Gavala, the Spanish Governor, collected a powerful fleet, and sailed in haste to the spot. The Portuguese, ascertaining the strength of the attacking force, abandoned their new settlement, and made off to the north without awaiting its arrival. Gavala then took possession of Montevideo in turn, and took measures in order to prevent a repetition of the incident. To this end he constructed a powerful battery on the spot, and supplied the fort with a garrison of a hundred Spanish troops, and with a thousand native auxiliaries.

CHAPTER III

HISTORY—continued

Founding of the city of Montevideo—Its first inhabitants—Inducement offered to colonists—The early days of the town—Successful rising of the Indians in the neighbourhood—Victory of the natives—Montevideo saved by Jesuit intervention—The Portuguese invade the northern provinces—The first Governor of Montevideo—Treaties and territorial cessions—Dissatisfaction of Jesuit Indians—Their defeat by combined Spanish and Portuguese forces—Vicissitudes of Colonia—The danger of hostile residents—A concentration camp of the old days—Expulsion of the Jesuits—Some incidents of the wars with the Portuguese—The foundation of urban centres—The English occupy themselves with the whaling industry on the coast—Discouragement of the enterprise by the King of Spain—A corps of Blandengues is created—The British invasion—Political effects of the occupation—The war of independence—Montevideo as the seat of the Spanish viceroyalty—Commencement of the agitation for freedom in Uruguay.

On the 24th of December, 1726, was founded the city proper of Montevideo. Its inception was sufficiently modest. Indeed, the spot commenced its urban existence on a human diet of seven families translated from Buenos Aires for the purpose. A little later twenty families were brought from the Canary Islands to add to the humble population. It is not a little curious to read how, even in those early days, the spirit of colonial enterprise was already manifest in the way that is now considered most up-to-date. Intending immigrants to Montevideo were each offered free transport from Buenos Aires, plots in the city and holdings in the Campo, two hundred head of cattle, one hundred sheep, and free cartage of building material. They were offered, beyond, tools, agricultural implements, and a remission of taxes for a certain period. The whole savours strongly of a modern immigration department. In any case, the inducements offered were considerable.

Two years after its foundation Montevideo received an important reinforcement of citizens, when thirty families from the Canary Islands and from Galicia were introduced into the place. Thus the small town was already beginning to make its mark upon the surrounding country, and at the end of 1728 it could count over two hundred inhabitants, four hundred troops, and a thousand Indians employed principally in the works of fortification. A couple of years later it was deemed worthy of a corporation.

Nevertheless, in this very year the growing settlement all but came to a bloody and untimely end. A rising of the Charrúa Indians in the immediate neighbourhood of Montevideo resisted all the efforts made to subdue it. Over one hundred Spaniards were slain and the royal forces put to rout. The natives, drunk with success, were on the eve of entering Montevideo and of slaughtering the inhabitants, when a Jesuit missionary, Padre Herán, intervened, and prevailed on the Indians to desist from their purpose.

Scarcely had this danger passed when another, and remoter, came into being to take its place. The restless Portuguese having given peace to the Banda Oriental for ten years, doubtless considered the period unduly prolonged, and thus invaded the Rio Grande on the northern frontier. Lavala's successor, Don Miguel de Salcedo, a ruler as impotent as the first had been strong, contented himself with besieging Colonia as a counter-stroke, while the Portuguese forces were left free to complete the conquest of Rio Grande. This they continued to hold, despite the terms of an armistice arranged in 1737 between Spain and Portugal.

For ten years after this no historical event of importance occurred to disturb the progress of Uruguay. In 1747 a rising of the Indians was utterly crushed at Queguay, and two years later Montevideo, now acknowledged as a town of importance, was accorded a Governor of its own. Don José Joaquin de Viana was the first appointed to the post. His opinion of its urgency is evident from the fact that he only took office in 1751.

By the treaty of 1750 King Ferdinand VI. of Spain ceded to Portugal the northern stretches comprising the Jesuit Missions of Uruguay and the present province of Rio Grande in exchange for Colonia. As a stroke of commercial diplomacy the bargain was undoubtedly a failure, since by its means Spain not only lost for ever two flourishing provinces, but, in addition, the Jesuits and their Indians were obliged to forsake the field of their labours, and to migrate in search of fresh country.

This, however, was not the case with all alike. A large number of the Indians, deeply attached to the neighbourhoods wherein lay their homes, refused to follow the missionaries, and in the end resisted the unwelcome decree. Pitted against the combined forces of Buenos Aires, Uruguay, and Brazil, their cause had not a momentary chance of success. After suffering various defeats, they were finally routed and almost exterminated at Caaibate in 1756, when the native loss amounted to 154 prisoners and 1,200 dead, at the very moderate Spanish cost of 4 dead and 41 wounded. The character of the action is sufficiently evident from the butcher's bill. A certain number of the surviving Indians were taken to Maldonado, and, settling there, formed the nucleus of the present town.

In the meanwhile Colonia, whose inhabitants by this time must have been rendered giddy by the continuous substitution of bunting, had again passed into the possession of the Portuguese. The recurrence of war between these and the Spaniards gave Pedro de Ceballos, an able and energetic Governor of Buenos Aires, an opportunity to act. In 1762 he surprised Colonia, captured it, and was in the act of invading the ceded territory of Rio Grande when the Treaty of Paris came inopportunely into being to stay him in his path of conquest, and to give back Colonia, that bone of contention, to the Portuguese once more.

This occurred in 1763, and Ceballos was powerless to struggle further against a fate that caused victory to be followed by the loss of provinces. Nevertheless, he took various measures towards the preservation of the remaining territory. One of the most important of these was concerned with the numerous Portuguese families that were settled along the eastern frontier of the country. Having reason to believe that these were hatching further warlike schemes in conjunction with the authorities across the border, Ceballos caused them to be taken south, and to be collected together in a small settlement in the neighbourhood of Maldonado, where they could remain under the watchful eye of the Uruguayan officials.

In 1767 the expulsion of the Jesuits from South America by King Carlos III. of Spain proved of no little moment to the Banda Oriental, since many of the Indians, wandering shepherdless and at a loss, came southwards, and became part and parcel of Uruguay. It was by means of twelve of these Indian families that the city of Paysandú, amongst several others, was founded, while the fields of Montevideo and Maldonado derived many new cultivators from this source.

It was but a very few years later that the trouble with the Portuguese broke out once again. Indeed, it would seem that indulgence in border feud had now become an ineradicable habit on the part of both sides. By the year 1774 the inhabitants of Brazil had once again passed over the north-western frontier, and had spread themselves over the country in such numbers as to render their presence a menace to Uruguay. In order to remedy the situation, Vertiz, the Governor of Buenos Aires, crossed from Buenos Aires to Montevideo, from which city he sallied out northwards with an army of four thousand men. Meeting with the Portuguese forces in the neighbourhood of the Santa Tecla range, he routed them and pursued them as far as the River Yacuy, depriving them of the lands they had usurped.

On the return of Vertiz to Buenos Aires, Portuguese aggression burst forth once again. Advancing from the east this time, they were repulsed in an attack on the town of San Pedro; but in 1776, returning with an army of two thousand men, they captured the place and possessed themselves of the district. The inevitable counter-stroke on the part of the Spaniards was to follow. Indeed, the scale of the struggle waxed steadily with the growth of the respective countries. Brazil was already the seat of a viceroyalty, and immediately after this last invasion the provinces of the River Plate were raised to the same status. Ceballos, then on a visit to Spain, was created first Viceroy, and was dispatched from Cadiz with a powerful fleet and with over nine thousand troops to avenge the incursion.

With such forces as these at his disposal the task of Ceballos was an easy one. The Island of Santa Catalina was captured without a blow, and that bone of contention, Colonia, surrendered perforce after a few days of siege. Above its walls for the fifth time the flag of Spain was hoisted afresh. On this occasion the ill-omened place was destined to pay for the memories of the past, and its walls suffered in place of the garrison. In order to remove temptation from the minds of the northern enemy, Ceballos razed the elaborate fortifications to the ground and destroyed the more pretentious houses, amongst these being some of the best architectural specimens of the River Plate.

Having effected this, Ceballos was passing northwards with the intention of bringing back the Rio Grande Province once more within the fold of Buenos Aires, when his march was stopped by the news of another of those treaties between the mother-countries that seemed to materialise with unfailing regularity at moments so ill-timed for the interests of the Spanish colonies. By the terms of this Spain was left with the mines of Colonia, while the Island of Santa Catalina and the greater part of Rio Grande were ceded definitely to Portugal.

After this ensued an exceptionally lengthy era of peace, which was marked by the immigration of many families from Galicia and from the Canary Islands, and by the foundation of numerous towns, amongst these latter Canelones, Piedras, Rosario, Mercedes, Pando, Santa Lucia, San José, and Minas. As to the capital itself, by the year 1788 Montevideo had become a fairly important place, and could count a population of 6,695 Spaniards, 1,386 negro slaves, 562 liberated negroes, and 715 half-castes and Indians. A few years later the population was much augmented by the introduction of important numbers of negro slaves, a traffic that continued intermittently until 1825, when its continuance was prohibited by law.

At the end of the century an industry was initiated that might have led to important commercial results but for the action of the Spanish home authorities. The waters off the coast of Maldonado had long been famed as a whaling-ground, and at this period permission was given to the Englishmen engaged in the traffic to found establishments both at this place and at Punta de la Ballena. The result was a rapid but fleeting prosperity at both these points, since after a while the attitude of the Court of Spain changed. Fearful of the influence of the English upon the Uruguayans, the authorities offered to the new colonists the option of becoming Roman Catholics and of swearing allegiance to the King of Spain, or of abandoning the settlement. The latter alternative was chosen by the whalers, and Maldonado and Punta de la Ballena, in consequence, sank back into the lethargy of industrial torpor. The instance is only one of the many in which the mother-country satisfied its conscience at the expense of its colony.

A corps of Blandengues, or Lancers, was formed in 1797, whose duties, beyond their military performances, were varied to a degree. Thus, in addition to the occasional brushes with the Indians that fell to their lot, they were employed as excise officials against the smugglers, as escorts of high officials, as ordinary police, and as official messengers. The corps was composed of picked men, and in its ranks served José Gervasio Artigas and José Rondeau, both bearers of names that were destined to become famous in Uruguayan history.

This body of cavalry was destined to be employed on active service very soon after its formation. In 1801 the Portuguese became active once more, and the first year of the new century was marked by their occupation of land in the north-west of the Banda Oriental. After various actions, Rondeau, with a force of Blandengues and dragoons, defeated the invaders and won back the greater part of the lost territory.

In 1806 occurred the first of the British invasions which, although materially fruitless in the end so far as our own country was concerned, were destined to influence the minds of the colonials and the future of the River Plate Provinces to a greater extent than is generally realised. The circumstances of the invasion that won to the British Crown for a very short while not only Montevideo, Maldonado, Colonia, and numerous lesser Uruguayan towns, but Buenos Aires in addition, afford bitter reading. Thanks to the colossal incapacity—to give his conduct no harder name—of the British Commander-in-Chief, General Whitlocke, the last troops of the British army of occupation had sailed away northwards from Montevideo by the beginning of September, 1807.

Although the matter ended for the British with the departure of the troops from the River Plate, the aftermath of the event took very definite shape in the Spanish colonies themselves. Not only had the inhabitants of the provinces learned their own power, but—more especially in the case of Montevideo—the seeds of commercial liberty had been sown amongst the local merchants and traders by the English men of business who had descended upon the place beneath the protection of the army. That the final leave-taking between the English and the Uruguayans should have been accompanied by actual cordiality and regrets is surely an astonishing circumstance that affords great credit to both sides. There can be no doubt, however, that this mutual esteem was in the first place fostered by an appreciation on the part of the residents of British laws and methods of trading.

Whether the germs thus left behind would have fructified so rapidly but for the chaotic condition of the mother-country is doubtful. As it was, scarcely had the smoke of these actions cleared away when it became necessary for the patriots of the River Plate Province to look once again to their primings in view of still more vital occurrences.

I do not propose to tell here the full story of the rebellion of the River Plate Provinces and of the revolution that ended in the complete overthrow of Spanish power in South America, since I have already roughly sketched these events elsewhere. So far as the main events are concerned, the transition from the colonial stage to the condition of independence was slower in the Banda Oriental than was the process upon the eastern bank of the great river. In Julio of 1810, when the Junta of Buenos Aires had already established itself to cast off the yoke of Spain, Montevideo still remained faithful to the mother-country, and rejected the advances of the Argentines.

Thus at the beginning of 1811 Montevideo found itself, if only for a short while, the seat of the viceroyalty of the La Plata Provinces, and from that point of vantage Elio, the Viceroy, declared war upon Buenos Aires. Almost immediately, however, the spirit of independence became manifest in Uruguay itself, and it is at this juncture that occurs the name that has perhaps stamped itself most deeply of all upon the history of the Banda Oriental.

CHAPTER IV

HISTORY—continued

The advent of Artigas—First revolutionary movements in Uruguay—The appointment of leaders—First successes of the Uruguayans—The germs of future jealousies—Montevideo besieged by the patriot forces—An incident of the investment—Spain appeals to Portugal for assistance—Invasion of Uruguay by the latter—The Buenos Aires Government concludes a treaty with the Spanish Viceroy—Raising of the siege of Montevideo—Position of Uruguay—Discontent of the Orientales—The exodus of the nation—Incidents of emigration to the Argentine shore—Montevideo in Spanish hands—The country overrun by Portuguese—Buenos Aires effects a treaty with the latter—Resumption of the campaign against the Spaniards—Disputes between the Argentine and Uruguayan leaders—Montevideo again besieged—Some battle incidents—Artigas reappears on the scene—Drastic measures towards an ally—A national Congress convened—Oriental deputies rebuffed by Buenos Aires—Artigas withdraws from the siege of Montevideo—Price set upon his head—War declared between Uruguay and Buenos Aires—The Argentine littoral provinces adhere to Artigas—Fall of Montevideo.

The personality of Artigas, the central figure of the Uruguayan revolutionary era, is fully described in a later chapter. It is necessary here, therefore, merely to give the record of historical occurrences, without laying stress on the individuality of the Oriental leader, a matter that is not easy of accomplishment, since the figure of Artigas seems to have dominated the field of action in whatever direction it lay.

Shortly after the outbreak of the revolution Artigas, who at the time was in the Spanish service, joined the patriot ranks after a violent quarrel with his brigadier. The Oriental fled across the river to Buenos Aires. Here he received a warm welcome, and was supplied with armed men and financial aid in order to foment the movement in his native country. Beyond this he received the official rank of lieutenant-colonel in the Army of Independence.

In the meanwhile the first stirrings of the war that was to come had already shaken Uruguay. With its capital, Montevideo, now the seat of the viceroyalty, the small province had remained more or less quiescent, lying, as it were, directly beneath the eye of Imperial Spain itself. But the awakening, when it occurred, was followed by a strenuous outbreak of activity. The first important rising took place at Paysandú, on the banks of the Uruguay River. This was crushed by the aid of the Spanish war vessels that lay in the stream. But the inhabitants, not in the least discouraged by this first check, rose again in greater numbers than before. A body of one hundred gauchos, ill-armed as it was, captured the town of Mercedes, and then, with augmented forces, marched on Soriano, which surrendered to them.

This success was the signal for a general rising throughout the country. At the beginning of 1811 the Spanish garrison found themselves in the midst of a definitely hostile population. From one frontier to another bodies of men were gathering together, forging weapons from agricultural tools, and arming themselves as best they could in order that they might take their share in the struggle for liberation that was already in active being. In March the towns of Maldonado, San Carlos, and Minas rose, and the country just to the east of Montevideo itself threw off the Spanish authority and came into possession of the insurrectionist companies.

On the 11th of April, 1811, Artigas returned to Uruguay in command of 150 men of the regiment of Patricios, and disembarked in the neighbourhood of that hub of all strife, Colonia. Here he was welcomed by a great number of armed countryfolk, who acclaimed him as chief of the Orientales. The movement now fairly under way, he established his headquarters at Mercedes. In the meanwhile the germ of future combinations had already been created by the appointment on the part of the Buenos Aires patriots of Rondeau as commander of the Uruguayans. Belgrano, first named for the post, had, disgraced, been deprived of it since his defeat by the Paraguayans.

Artigas's first collision with the royal forces occurred at Paso del Rey, the Spanish army being completely defeated. Reinforced by a second victorious column, under Benavidez, the Uruguayans followed up the retreating regulars, and forced them to surrender.

Artigas, the Jefe de los Orientales, had now at his disposal a force of over a thousand men. Meeting at Las Piedras with a royalist army of 1,230 men, the valour of the new levies was soon put to the test. Although the Spaniards possessed the advantage of artillery, they were in the end, after a desperate and prolonged fight that endured for half a dozen hours, defeated and forced to surrender.

The doings of the patriotic force came as a blow to the Spanish authorities at Montevideo. Urged by the first tremblings of the viceregal throne beneath him, Elio cast about him for an inducement to turn Artigas from his victorious course. To this end he sent messengers offering the chieftain a heavy monetary bribe to desert the patriot cause, and to take service again in the royalist cause. Whether any offering of any kind would have tempted Artigas is doubtful. But in any case the tender was eloquent of Elio's want of acquaintance with the Gaucho temperament, to which the possession of mere cash constitutes a matter of utter indifference. As it was, Artigas treated the offer with angry contempt.

The hour of the patriot leader's triumph was not without its sting. The battle of Las Piedras had won him the rank of colonel in the revolutionary forces, it is true; but Belgrano, after Suipacha, had risen to that of a general. And, although both the Buenos Aires Government and the official Gazette, using the soft soap of courtesy titles, referred continuously to Artigas by the honorary term of "General," the bitterness remained to give rise to future strife.

Three days after his victory Artigas marched to Montevideo, and laid siege to the headquarters itself of the Spanish régime. As a preliminary to the operation an exchange of prisoners, wounded and whole, was effected. Artigas then formally demanded the surrender of the garrison; Elio responded by various sorties, all of which were repulsed. The beginning of the siege was marked by a dramatic episode. Suspecting the revolutionary sympathies of some Franciscan monks domiciled in Montevideo, Elio decided to expel these from the city. The Franciscans were led through the streets with the utmost silence at the dead of night. Arrived at the gates, the officer in charge of the escort pointed with his sword at some sparks of light that twinkled faintly in the distance. "Go you with the butchers!" he commanded, and the priests passed out silently into the darkness to join the forces of Artigas. Their influence was doubtless exhilarating to the patriot cause, but there is no evidence to show that it was employed in the cause of mercy. A few days later forty Uruguayan families suffered a similar fate.

In the meanwhile Benavidez had laid siege to Colonia, the garrison of which, after a month's resistance, escaped by river to Montevideo. It was upon this latter place that the fortune of the Spanish dominion now hung. The scale of warfare was increasing in proportion to the importance of the issue. Shortly after the arrival of the reinforcements supplied by the Royalist fugitives from Colonia, Rondeau, in command of the Argentine troops, arrived to take charge of the attacking force, that now amounted to four thousand men. Artigas, now one amongst many, dropped in rank from commander to leader of horse.

Rondeau had contrived to drag two heavy guns to the spot, and with these he opened fire upon Montevideo. Galled by a continuous bombardment, Elio took a more desperate step than was justified even by his situation. Carlota, the Queen of Portugal and the sister of Ferdinand VII. of Spain, had been established in Rio de Janeiro since the invasion of the peninsula by the Napoleonic armies. To her the Viceroy, seeing the last foothold of power slipping from beneath him, sent an urgent message for assistance.

Ere the response to this appeal became evident the condition of the beleagured town had changed. Discouraged by the serious defeat at Huaqui of the army of Peru, the revolutionary leaders of Buenos Aires were already contemplating a retirement from before Montevideo, when the blow engineered by Elio took effect. A swarm of Portuguese, under command of General Diego de Souza, entered the Banda Oriental from the north with the purpose of overrunning the country. The Buenos Aires Government, appalled by the new turn that affairs had taken, made the utmost haste to conclude an armistice with Elio. By the terms of the treaty the patriot forces were to retire from Montevideo, and Spanish authority was to be recognised throughout Uruguay in exchange for the return of Souza's forces to Brazil. Thus Elio's unscrupulous move had succeeded for the time being, and the first siege of Montevideo came to an end. A month after its conclusion Elio retired to Spain. The command he had left was now no longer worthy of the highest rank, and the departed Viceroy was succeeded by Vigodet in the minor capacity of Captain-General.

Artigas had from the first bitterly opposed this treaty, by the terms of which the Orientales were to be left at the mercy of the Royalists. That he had right upon his side from his own point of view is undeniable, although it is difficult to see by what other means the Buenos Aires Government, caught between the Spaniards and the Brazilians, could have extricated themselves from their dilemma. The treaty once concluded, however, Artigas initiated a move that in itself proved the greatness of the man.

A general assembly of the patriotic Oriental families was sounded. Obedient to the call, they mustered in numbers that amounted to over thirteen thousand men, women, and children. Then followed the exodus, ordained by the stress of events, of which Artigas was the human instrument. Escorted by three thousand soldiers, the march of the families began. Carts filled with women and children, herds of cattle, troops of horses, companies of pack-mules, to say nothing of the riders themselves—the tragic procession toiled its long length northwards through the summer dust clouds struck up by the hoofs and feet from the crude earth roads. Mingled with the slowly advancing ranks, and lending still greater variety to the whole, went four hundred faithful Charrúa Indians, armed with bolas and spears.

Over the rolling hills of Uruguay struggled the human thread of emigrants. Death waited on the column in the shape of heat and hardship. But, though many children and many aged folk fell by the way, the great majority won through in safety to Salto, on the banks of the Uruguay; crossed the great river in boats, and took up their abode on the Argentine shore, awaiting with anxiety the hour that might permit their return to their native land.

In the meantime matters were passing from bad to worse in Uruguay. Once within its frontiers, the temptations of the promised land overcame any scruple on the part of the Portuguese concerning a too rigid adherence to the terms of the treaty. Under the convenient pretext of pacifying an already deserted country, Souza's army overran the smiling Campo, capturing towns and plundering where they might. The Spanish royalists, for their part, remained passive, and the sole opposition with which the Portuguese armies had to count was that rendered by the forces of Artigas, sent by him across the river. But, although they won a victory or two, the slender patriot bands were unable to stem the tide of invasion to any appreciable degree.

It is a little curious to remark what an endless wealth of complications appear to have attended every political move at this period. In this particular instance the introduction of a new element was productive of unexpected results. Thus, when the Buenos Aires Government, realising the gravity of the situation, proposed to send reinforcements to the assistance of Artigas, the move was checked by Elio, the Spanish commander, who, forgetful of the ties of blood, threatened to join cause with the Portuguese in the event of any such intervention. As an appropriate climax to the chaotic situation, the Buenos Aires powers turned to Paraguay for assistance. The latter, inclined to assent, began negotiation with Artigas direct, and, since the Argentine Government resented this slight upon its authority, and the negotiations themselves failed to fructify, the only outcome of importance was an increase in the mutual jealousies that already existed between Artigas and the Argentines.

Shortly after this, however, the tables were turned upon the Spaniards. An able stroke of diplomacy on the part of the famous Argentine, Belgrano, supported by British influence, resulted in a treaty with the Portuguese. Thus the Royalists, hoist by a second edition of their own petard, lay without allies at the mercy of the patriot forces.

Preparations for a fresh siege of Montevideo were at once begun. Don Manuel Sarratea, appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Argentine Army, marched to the Entre Rios shore to join his columns with those of Artigas. The inevitable jealousies between the Argentine and Oriental leaders came to a head almost immediately. Apart from a deep personal antagonism that separated the pair, a yet more potent reason made the rupture inevitable. Sarratea, representing the triumvirate of Buenos Aires, was determined to deal with Uruguay as a province of the new Republic of Argentina. Artigas, on the other hand, although willing to acknowledge the authority at Buenos Aires from a federal point of view, insisted upon the independence of the State.

It was in these circumstances that Sarratea descended upon Artigas's mixed camp of soldiers and Uruguayan emigrant families upon the banks of the Uruguay. The results of the meeting were soon evident. Artigas, complaining bitterly that Sarratea had seduced from his allegiance not only his troops but the civilian elements of the settlement, resigned his colonelcy, and separated his division from the Argentine forces. The troops now remaining to him numbered rather less than a thousand men, under the command of Otorgués, Rivera, and Manuel Artigas.

In the meanwhile Sarratea, anxious that the credit for the capture of Montevideo should fall to his lot, had dispatched a force under Rondeau to lay siege once again to the town of contention that represented the headquarters of the Royalists. Arriving at the spot, he found that his task had already been forestalled to a certain extent by an independent Oriental, José Eugenio Culta. The latter caudillo, spurred onwards by the numerous examples of reckless initiative offered by the period, had collected a band of three hundred Gauchos. With these kindred spirits he was busily occupied in harassing the garrison to no little purpose.

With the arrival of Rondeau, in October of 1812, the siege of the devoted city began on an imposing scale, the army employed for the purpose soon amounting to two thousand men. Destined to drag out its length for almost two years, the first few months of the siege were marked by two events of importance. Vigodet, having received reinforcements from Spain, made a vigorous sally on the last day of the year. At early dawn sixteen hundred men burst out from the gates of the city, surprising and routing the besieging forces as they went, until they won the summit of the Cerrito hill itself, the headquarters of the American forces. With the yellow and red of Spain flaunting from this the Royalists forgot all but their success, and expended their energies in a jubilation that cost them dear. For Rondeau, gathering together his fugitive troops with an amazing rapidity, fell like a thunderbolt upon the cheering crowd, whose joyful clamour turned to groans and death gasps as the stricken mass went reeling back into the city.

An event of still greater importance occurred during the first month of the following year. Sarratea himself then journeyed to the camp before Montevideo. But he had company behind that he could not have failed to regard with considerable unease. Notwithstanding his late check, Artigas still remained a power to be reckoned with. Indeed, his vitality had risen to the occasion; he had flung out his summons far and wide, and his power was now infinitely greater than before. Thus, when Sarratea set out for Montevideo, Artigas followed grimly in his wake, having now no mean instrument by means of which to assert his rights—an army of five thousand men.

Arriving on the heels of his enemy at the point of hostilities, Artigas was not slow to act. Taking full measure of his advantage, he sent peremptorily to Rondeau, demanding the immediate dismissal of Sarratea from his office of Commander-in-Chief. The order thus given to a subordinate to deal with his superior was quite in accordance with the spirit of the times.

As Rondeau, however, did not immediately comply, Artigas took a very simple measure by which to prove that he did not intend to ask in vain. His Gauchos dashed full gallop into Sarratea's camp, and drove off with them all the horses that they found within the establishment. Seeing that a Gaucho army, unhorsed, is as a collection of fish on dry land, the matter was definitely settled by the act. Sarratea retired with the best grace he could muster to Buenos Aires, Rondeau remained in command, and the Oriental and Argentine leaders sat down to continue the investment of Montevideo, one jealous eye of each upon his fellow-chief, the other fixed more casually upon the beleaguered town.

During the comparative lull in active hostilities that followed Artigas busied himself in the affairs of the State that he was determined to see fully created. To this end he convened a national Congress of Uruguayans, of which he was, as a matter of course, elected President, in addition to being created Military Governor of the country. One of the first acts of the new Congress was to advertise its existence by the mission of deputies to the Junta at Buenos Aires. But, the Junta refusing to recognise either an independent Uruguay or its agents, the deputies returned home to spread the tale of the rebuff, and to increase the bitterness that already lay so deep between the Buenos Aires authorities and Artigas.

In January, 1814, the long series of incessant disputes was brought abruptly to a head by Artigas. In the dead of night he struck his hide tents, mounted his men, and his entire force rode away over the hills, leaving Rondeau and his army to continue the siege of Montevideo as best they might. The Buenos Aires authorities, furious at the defection, placed a price upon Artigas's head; and the Gaucho leader, equally incensed at this personal ultimatum, retaliated by declaring open war upon the Junta. Storming against the Buenos Airens, this born leader of men took his body—valued by his enemies at six thousand pesos, alive or dead—along the coast of the great river. So successful were his denunciations and the missions of his ambassadors that not only the littoral provinces of Entre Rios, Corrientes, and Santa Fé came spontaneously to his standard, but the comparatively remote province of Córdoba, following the example of the rest, proffered its allegiance.

It was not long ere the news of the rupture reached the ears of Vigodet in Montevideo. Thinking to derive profit from the occasion, he made a final appeal to throw in his lot with the royal forces. The Gaucho leader in his refusal is stated to have said that "with the Porteños [Buenos Airens] there was always time for reconciliation; with the Spaniards, never!" That the time for the former consummation was not yet ripe was evidenced by the almost immediate outbreak of active hostilities between the rival South American parties.

In the meanwhile Montevideo was giving out the last gasp of its imperial existence. The Spanish fleet that had assisted in its defence had been destroyed by Admiral Brown, the famous Irishman in Argentine service. Hunger and the lack of general necessaries both of livelihood and of war completed the work of arms. On the 20th June, 1814, Montevideo, after suffering intense privations, capitulated, and with its fall passed for ever the last vestige of Spanish power from the provinces of the River Plate.