In our travels throughout the very extensive and varied regions dealt with in these pages, we shall have remarked certain outstanding features of life characteristic in perhaps peculiar degree of the Latin American civilization. The marked division of the classes into which the social life of the Republics falls, the system of government, the distinctive architecture, civil and ecclesiastical, the peculiar mining industry—sui generis; the roads—or absence of such—and the special atmosphere surrounding travel in the wilds, the undeveloped condition of enormous areas of territory and their lack of population, the absence of manufacturing industry and predominance of rural occupations, the relations with foreigners, and the relations—or lack of such—of an inter-American nature; whilst there has always been before the observer interested in the sociological development of the world, the problems of the future here.
Despite eccentricities of character and difficulties of environment, we shall remark that Spanish American government and other institutions are, in general, laid down upon excellent lines, and in the future may be expected to develop in their own way.
As to government, the constitutions—written constitutions—of these States might be described almost as counsels of perfection. Theoretically they provide for all contingencies, and, were they followed, little would be amiss. Unfortunately the temperament of the Latin American people often is, that the individual will lay down the most excellent laws for the community, but apparently reserving for himself the right to contravene them, as far as he is concerned, if occasion so demand. Herein is the difficulty of self-government under the Iberian temperament.
The constitutions of the Republics are generally modelled upon that of the United States; but there is a slight difference between the associations of the various provinces or departments in some cases. Thus the Federal Republic Model, under which the provinces enjoy a species of home rule, has been adopted by Brazil, Mexico and Venezuela, whilst the remainder have what is termed the centralized form, the supreme head being the capital, with prefects set over the provinces.
The governing powers embody the executive, the legislative and the judicial; the president and his cabinet, national congress of two chambers, and a supreme tribunal. Ministers with portfolios are generally those of Foreign Affairs, Finance, Agriculture, Industry and Commerce, Communications and Public Works, War and Marine, to which is frequently added a Ministro de Fomento, after the Spanish model, a department which concerns itself with the development of new industries and means of transport, land concessions, and so forth, the word meaning "encouragement" or "fostering."
A considerable bureaucracy naturally exists under this regimen, and there is a strong tendency among the educated folk to seek Government employ. On the whole, however, the system of government, with its ramifications, must be regarded as efficient and competent, and the machinery works smoothly. It is not necessarily thrown out of gear altogether by the sudden revolution or golpe de estado, which so frequently occurs, unless this be more than ordinarily severe. But the caudillo, the political leader or "boss" (to use an American equivalent) is often a corrupting and disturbing element.
With regard to the religious system, the regimen and machinery of the Romish Church is, too, well organized, from arch-bishop down to village cura or priest. But the education and character of this last often leaves a good deal to be desired.
As with government, so is it with education in the Latin American countries. The theory is excellent, and education is everywhere extolled, but in practice the proportion of literates, indeed of folk who can but read and write alone, is exceedingly small, amounting perhaps to ten or fifteen per cent. of the population, rising to fifty per cent. in the most advanced land, Argentina. Education is everywhere free and compulsory, and the Latin American youth can reach the universities with little cost.
The conditions of civic life in Spanish American lands are often pleasing in some essentials, and students of sociology and economics might well find matters of utility here. It might not be an exaggeration to say that there is more public spirit, of a kind, in a small Spanish American town than in its English or United States equivalent. More interest is taken in local government; there is more discussion in local matters. The inhabitant, if he has any grade of education and knowledge, thinks it natural to assert his opinion as a unit of his habitat, and public opinion is a strong factor. It is a good augury for the future.
Indeed, in the connection, it is to be noted that Spanish American people—even in circles where it would be supposed that such matters would be beyond their ken—think much and talk profoundly on questions of government, polity, economics and so forth. They display a wider range of intelligence than—for example—the lower middle-class English folk in such matters.
Useful and pleasing features in civic life are to be found in the general "town-planning" of the Latin American town or village. The Spaniards inaugurated the general plan of a central plaza or square, with streets radiating therefrom, and cross streets—the well-known "chequer board" style. It is quite possible to overdo this system, or to adhere too rigidly thereto. But the central plaza, with the church and municipal buildings, chief shops and so forth around it, is a convenient arrangement, whilst the institution of the serenata or open-air concert here, on Sunday afternoon and during week-day evenings, brings the people together and creates a pleasing atmosphere, and is, in fact, a social amenity of value. The plaza is the pulse of the locality.
It is, of course, to be recollected that the climate generally permits such amenities. Also, as the roads cease on the outskirts of the place, there is really nowhere else for the inhabitants to take exercise on foot. We should not like to sacrifice our typical English village, with its High Street and church on the hill, to this more stereotyped plan, but the amenities of the plaza might be much more widely copied. It has its nucleus in the village green, but the social atmosphere is lacking in this last.
The traveller in the cities and towns of Spanish America finds himself, often without knowing or analysing the cause, in an atmosphere quaint, restful and pleasing. He seems transplanted to an old-world or semi-mediaeval environment, as of some more ancient or remote place of European lands where the vulgarizing hand of the commercial age is as yet unknown. Looking around and above him he finds the sensation is imparted by the buildings, the façades of the streets, the churches and the general disposition architecturally of the place. It is the atmosphere and influence of the old Spanish Colonial architecture.
Notwithstanding the very considerable extent and interest of this field, few writers on Spanish America appear to have made any broad study of the subject, or at least to have set down much in the way of description of what is so noteworthy and important a feature of life in these widely-scattered communities, but it is a matter worthy of some study.
This type of architecture is, naturally, more intensively represented in those parts of the Spanish American Continent which were the principal seats of viceregal rule, such as Mexico and Peru, but the style predominates throughout the whole of Central and South America, and in the West Indian Islands, such as Cuba and Santo Domingo, which were under Spanish sway. The example set, the style was followed to a considerable extent after the time of Independence, and with some modification, subservient to modern economic, domestic or commercial requirements, is employed in modern erections. Here, however, a new note has been introduced, an unpleasing note, and the dignified and quaint "classic" of the Colonial architecture has to some extent given place to a cheaper-appearing "Gothic," which, beside the older style, often appears frivolous or tawdry, although its exponents may derive some satisfaction from their claim to be "modern" and "progressive." The façades of the streets—and the circumstance is notable especially in the larger cities—has in some cases been vulgarized by the erection of huge business premises or blocks, in which the utilitarian has triumphed over the dignified and chaste.
There is less call for comment on this last-named condition in such centres as Buenos Ayres and others, which have sprung to being in comparatively recent times, and even Rio de Janeiro; but even here, as in modern Rio de Janeiro, the old chaste style has been widely reproduced and perpetuated, side by side with the "commercial" order and the somewhat riotous stucco architecture of the plutocratic residence.
The principal features of the Colonial style of street architecture are the square-headed windows with their moulded architraves, and, more elaborately, pediments, and the prominent cornices, friezes and sills. The balcony to the upper windows, and the rejas or iron grilles, to the lower—the latter originally and indeed still a necessary safeguard, from various causes—are the most prominent features, together with the wide saguan or principal doorway, high enough for a mounted horseman to enter, giving access to the patio or courtyard, around which, generally open to the sky, the interior doors and windows are disposed—a type, of course, inherited from the Moors through Spain. The houses are built close against the street. There is no garden or space in front, but the patio is generally planted, often beautifully so, with shrubs and flowers, often with the addition of a fountain. Around the upper wall of the patio a gallery runs, reached by an outside staircase, giving access to the various apartments of the first floor.
In the public buildings, and in the more elaborate private mansions, such as the main residential streets of the capitals display, the window-heads are frequently arched. Much effect is gained by the method of severity in the greater part of the façade, with elaborate carving disposed where needful. The material is generally of stone in the older buildings, and in the newer—but with an effect that does not deceive—the scheme is carried out in plaster or stucco, whose appearance is sometimes too artificial. The most notable feature of the façades of those buildings which form the sides of the plazas, or public squares, are the portales or arcades, of arches supported on columns, a covered footpath thus being formed, with the upper stories of the buildings thereover. This type of building is, of course, common to Latin countries in Europe.
When we come to the church architecture of the Spanish American towns, we enter a somewhat different field. Enormous work has been lavished upon them. Their façades are sometimes loaded with the most ornate carvings, exciting admiration for the beauty and dexterity of their individual parts, but giving occasion for the criticism of being overdone and overburdened.
The cathedrals and churches of the larger Mexican cities are things to marvel at, in many instances. So intricate, beautiful and elaborate is the ornamentation which has been lavished upon these and other ecclesiastical structures, even in remote towns whose very name is unknown to the ordinary European traveller, that words fail to describe them, and they must be seen to be appreciated. The work was performed mainly in the time of the viceroys.
The temples of Peru are less noteworthy, but nevertheless follow out in some degree the same lavish style, as evidenced in the sacred edifices of Lima and to a less extent those of Cuzco and Arequipa. If Mexico was a "city of palaces" (as Humboldt termed it), Lima has at least claims to be considered a city of beautiful ecclesiastical structures.
Other Spanish American capitals may also point with pride to the beauty of their old public and consecrated buildings, and, indeed, Spanish culture in this respect, the fervour and piety of the Romish Church in Iberian hands, has conferred a benefit upon the New World for which it might well be grateful. Throughout thousands of miles of savage territory Spain caused to arise these oases of religious and monastic culture, appreciation of which the lapse of time, rather than diminishing, should augment.
Let us consider in some brief detail a few examples of the Colonial mural art. In Mexico there is such lavish wealth that we must be content with a few examples.
A building generally regarded by the Mexicans as perhaps one of the most chaste and pleasing of their public edifices, although not one of the oldest, is that of the former Temple of San Augustin, of which a picture is here given. It was erected in 1692, and, after the time of the Reform, when ecclesiasticism was dispossessed, it became, by mandate of President Juarez, the Biblioteca Nacional, or Public Library of the city of Mexico. The lower portion is Ionic, the upper partakes of the Churrigueresque style, which predominated in New Spain from the sixteenth century, replacing the severer architecture prior to that period.
Here, amid the two hundred thousand volumes of the library, are documents, little known and unprinted, containing valuable matter concerning the early history of America.
In contrast with the moderately severe style of the above is the façade of the principal entrance of the Sagrario, or Basilica Metropolitana, intricately sculptured portals of majestic character, a network of carved pilasters and figures, a typical work of Churriguera, which compels the admiration of the visitor. It is built of the red tezontle stone, compact and clear-hued, adding to its ornate beauty.
The temple abuts upon the garden of the cathedral. This splendid structure is the finest from some points of view, of its nature, in the whole of America, north or south. Its two great towers, rising for two hundred feet from the pavement, are landmarks far and wide throughout the Valley of Mexico. It is four hundred feet long and two hundred wide, in the form of a Greek cross, with two naves and three aisles and twenty-two side chapels. The vaulted roof is supported by twenty Doric columns, and its great candelabra of gold, silver and copper, altars, rare paintings and other appointments, render it a notable example of church architecture.
There are sixty massive churches in Mexico City, and as many more old convents and monasteries, or such was their original purpose before they were turned over to secular uses by the Reform. The domes—for many are domed—and towers of the ancient buildings stand out finely from the mass of the city, as beheld from the hills which surround the valley, bearing witness to the devout, the fanatic, the love of the beautiful which inspired Mexico under the viceroys. The cathedral was erected to face the great Zocalo or plaza on whose site stood the Teocalli or pyramid of the Aztec war god, a scene of bloody rites and barbarous sacrifice, stormed by Cortes and his Spaniards and razed to the ground.
The view here given of one of the side streets of the Mexican capital serves to show the type of severe street architecture before described, and affords a glimpse of the towers of the cathedral. Upon the street, face old residences of Spanish nobles or viceroys, and one side of the Palacio Nacional, formerly the residence of Cortes. The solid blocks of red tezontle of which they are built, so largely employed in the Viceregal period, give a sombre aspect to this broad thoroughfare, lightened somewhat by the white habit of the Indian porters on the pavement.
Vol. II. To face p. 264.
A beautiful edifice, open to the public by reason of its use as the principal hotel of the city, is the Hotel Iturbide, the former residence of that short-lived and ill-fated emperor of Mexico. Its interior patio, surrounded by colonnades, is typical of this class of dwelling, and the slender column and symmetry of its arches are such as arrest the visitors' gaze.
Yet another type of public building, remarkable in its solidity and massive beauty, is the great Edificio de Mineria, as it is now termed, being used as a school of engineers, an institution of which Mexico has been justly proud. This fine building dates from the end of the eighteenth century, when the Colonial period was expiring, and it is typical of the severe style of the period. Tolsa, the architect of this and some other Mexican buildings, took his inspiration from Rome and Greece.
The wonders of Mexican Colonial architecture are not monopolized by the capital. We may find in the remote towns examples as remarkable, whether in the great northern towns of the plateau, whether in the States of Oaxaca and Vera Cruz, places where the traveller might pass many pleasing hours, but unknown to the outside world.
A feature of the architecture, or rather decorative scheme, of Spanish American houses, which the traveller will not fail to note, is that of the use of colour on the exterior. This, however, is not employed on the well-built or stone structures, but mainly on those of the plastered adobe dwellings of the lower middle and poorer classes, although old Government palaces and public buildings often have a wash or tint over their faces. Architraves of painted blue or red, panelling in orange, generous rose-tints over the whole façade are to be seen, especially in the smaller towns and the villages.
This custom of exterior house painting is, of course, from Spain and the Moors. Whilst it may be objected to as being gaudy, nevertheless it is often pleasing and picturesque, relieving the drab aspect of the streets. The adobe wall is, naturally, plastered with some material, lime or in some cases—as at Oruro—kaolin, thus presenting a smooth surface for the colour. The colour material may be paint, or, generally, a kind of "distemper" or wash.
The effect is an unfamiliar one to the English or North American traveller, accustomed to the severe and colourless aspect of his own streets, but looking along these Spanish American thoroughfares or highways and byways of the towns—which are often the framing for a distant picture of a far-off Cordillera, blue in the distance, or a snow-capped peak, or a piece of tawny desert—the colour scheme is rather an added element in the general effect.
We find this custom largely in Mexican towns, in Central America, in Peru, Bolivia and the Cordillera generally—in brief, almost everywhere.
Vol. II. To face p. 266.
From the towns we come naturally to the roads. Of the "philosophy of the road" in Spanish America, I have spoken elsewhere.
It will be impressed upon us in our travels in the wild regions of Spanish America that, however fruitful Nature may be here, we cannot adequately enjoy these fruits until means of transport and communication are more plentiful and easier. There are thousands of miles of territory where the sound of the locomotive has never been heard, where, indeed, neither road nor bypath exists. The difficulties of railway and highway building here are often immense. The topography of the country is against it; the geological formation, the climate offer serious obstacles. Precipitous hills and unstable ground and torrential rainfall render almost impossible in places either the construction or maintenance of any form of highway.
Yet we shall doubt if the limit of human ingenuity has been reached here, and greater inventive and mechanical genius must be brought to bear on the problem, in new types of road and railway. The engineer is somewhat apathetic in this connection, whether in America or Europe.
The people of Spanish America seem unable to do much for themselves in the building of railways. No line is ever built except by British gold and foreign engineers. They could do much more themselves, especially as regards roads.
Will air-navigation help to solve the problem of transport in South America? Perhaps, to a limited extent. Aeroplane services might be of inestimable value in rendering communication possible with the sequestered towns of the Cordillera, for example. There are vast open spaces where landing would be easy, given the overcoming of atmospheric difficulties. Some investigation is beginning. In Peru some study of the possible routes among the mountains has been made. In Chile the Andes have been crossed by an airman. Flying, although possibly its "circus" attributes are most attractive, appeals to the temperament of the Spanish American. But a Peruvian airman[43] strove to be the first to cross the Alps, and gallantly perished in the attempt. Brazil also furnished its pioneer airman.[44] Hydroplanes might be of service, as they could alight on the rivers, in crossing the Amazon forests.
A glance now at the mining industry, so largely dependent upon means of transport here.
It cannot be said that gold plays a predominant part in the mining of to-day in the Latin American countries. More important is the winning of the baser metals.
It is, in fact, somewhat remarkable that a land, fabled earlier for its plenitude of gold, should in modern times, yield so relatively small an output. The value of the whole gold production of the Latin American countries scarcely reaches the annual amount of £8,000,000, which shrinks into insignificance beside the £50,000,000 of a single group of mines in another continent, the South African Rand. Of this, Mexico produces three-quarters, leaving the vast continent of South America with the small sum, as contribution to the world's stock of the yellow metal, of some two million pounds' sterling only.
We may inquire as to the reason of this paucity, and the reply, in the first instance undoubtedly is that, although Nature has placed gold in the rocks and soils of Central and South America in almost every quarter, the metal is in a form that does not always lend itself to the winning in large bulk. The mines are rich, but often small and scattered. There have not here been discovered the enormous bodies of ore which, although of low grade, as in South Africa, by their very extent and compactness, render mining economically and physically a more profitable undertaking. Further, it may be said that, in more recent times, mining enterprise and the attention of capital needful for such has not been drawn so strongly to the possibilities of gold-mining in the Latin American countries, and, lastly, political unrest and revolution in these States has in some cases rendered it precarious.
This last condition need not be exaggerated. It may be said that the Governments of the Latin American Republics are, in the main, generous in their treatment of foreign mining enterprise in their territories, and that sporadic revolution does not necessarily seriously affect the working of the mines, though at times it may cause temporary inconvenience and possible loss. The foreign shareholders of the few considerable gold mines of South America, and even of Mexico, have in general reaped excellent returns on their investments. Conditions in Mexico, however, of late have been intolerable in some cases, with confiscation and even murder attending them.
We have remarked the need of a greater population in the Latin American States, and the Governments of these in most cases strive to obtain settlers and workers from Europe, offering often what appear to be attractive conditions for immigrants. In Argentina the modern life of the Republic has in large part been built upon this element, largely of Italians, and the national character stands somewhat apart from the other States from this reason. Brazil has also absorbed many immigrants of the Latin race from the Old World, and the Germans here, and in Chile, have formed important communities.
But much remains to be done in this respect. It is seen that a good deal of the immigrant population in Argentina and Brazil remains as a floating or unsettled element. Much of it does not go out upon the land, but congregates in poverty in the cities—a defect of all immigrant systems, even in the British Dominions. In Argentina and Brazil immigrants often cannot obtain land, although the Governments are seeking to modify the conditions of vast estate holding and the rural proletariat.
It may be that the stream of emigrating humanity from Europe will not flow so freely in the future, in view of altering conditions on the older continent. Of late, too, the larger South American States are inclining towards the restriction of immigration.
The opportunities for settlement, for taking up land and establishing industry and reaping reward and profit in Spanish America are, or rather might be, attractive. They might be, in some respects, more attractive than those offered by Britain's colonies, for reasons which I will give.
Why are these opportunities not taken? Here are enormous areas of territory full of natural resources, with, in some cases, a mere handful of folk to the square mile. Here are natural pastures for cattle, lands which will produce fruits and foods of every kind—figs, grapes and oranges, cotton, coffee, cocoa, corn and wine and olives. Not a variety of fruit, not a cereal, not a single article of need for the comfort and use of the settler is there that could not be produced. Here are minerals of every kind known to commerce—gold, silver, copper, lead and iron, and all the non-metallic minerals—to be had for the working.
But above all, there are innumerable small centres of population, of quiet and docile folk, hungering for the presence of intelligent and enterprising settlers who would look kindly upon them, who would foster their local life, increase the productivity of the neighbourhood, take part in their civic and economic advancement. Nowhere in the world is there such desire for these things, nowhere is there such opportunity for the settler for benefiting both himself and the folk around him as is to be found in the innumerable little villages and towns of Spanish America hidden away in Cordillera, plain, valley and woodland. There are literally myriads of such localities scattered over the face of the Latin American world, and I could give many instances from personal experience.
The well-meaning foreigner in such places, with some small capital, becomes one of the most esteemed and predominant personages of the locality. He could acquire and profit by flocks, herds, plantations, mines. There is plenty of labour, among the Indian and other folk, to be obtained—labour, that is, in small local undertakings, not for over-greedy or absorbent joint-stock operations—under the relation of master and servant. Here is an opportunity, then, for those good English and other folk who complain so hardly of heavy taxation and other burdens of life! Any degree of climate may be chosen, from heat to cold, including the "region of perpetual spring," of which we have spoken elsewhere.
It is not intended here to advocate settlement in Spanish America as against the British colonies. The field is scarcely suitable for the settler who has to depend upon his own labour, without capital. He could not possibly compete with the native. The difference is, that here are innumerable old-established centres of population, centres of civic life, and not, as in Canada or Australia, vast areas of unsettled territory where the lonely colonist is remote from social amenities. Moreover, with every desire to people the British Empire with settlers from Britain, it is also to be recollected that British settlers in Spanish America increase the prestige—and incidentally the trade—of Britain in those lands—matters which should be encouraged. In Mexico, in better times, there was something about the atmosphere and environment that very strongly attracted the American settler, and large numbers of people from the United States established themselves in the country—conditions which unfortunately do not now exist.
In this connection we might ask ourselves a serious question as regards Mexico. Have we, the more advanced nations of the world, who mainly by reason of climate and geography have been blessed with a different temperament, made any particular effort to help that country, or tried to influence its people? We have invested our money there, with the hope of dividends. We have maintained our more or less starchy diplomatic representatives. We have issued Foreign Office Reports abounding in figures and pointing out the ways of trade and the resources of the land. But have we tried to influence the country to a better life?
It may be replied that we could not readily do so, that one country cannot mix itself up in the affairs of another. But that is not a sufficient answer. We have been content to take profits from railways and mines, but among the rude and picturesque hordes of Mexican miners, an impressionable and really industrious folk, there might have been some good element at work maintained by a little of the gold we won from them. Is the mine manager or the book-keeper, busied necessarily on the technical details of his post, the only agent we might have kept there?
The same reflection may be made as regards the other Latin American States, with a word of warning to directors and shareholders. The native miners are a hardy and often turbulent race. If they were not hardy they would not be miners, and if they were not headstrong they would not be likely to undertake the onerous and dangerous livelihood of the mines. These folk are, as regards "labour" ideas, mostly ignorant and unorganized at present. Directly they learn their power, and directly some greater amount of education filters in among them—accompanied, as is ever the case, by socialistic or even anarchic ideas—they will begin to demand their "rights." (The nitrate-workers in Chile, for example). Such ideas might spread very rapidly among these impressionable folk, and they would be likely to stop at nothing once the spark of disorder were kindled, even to Bolshevism of the brown race. Let us be wise in time and study the methods, before too late, by which their lot may be improved and their intelligence better directed under a wider spirit of economic instruction and justice. We may not like to face these eventualities, but that will not influence the march of events.
The same holds good with every form of foreign investment in Latin America—railways, plantations and all else. So I would venture to say, if we expect always to draw dividends from our investments in Spanish America, let us wisely have more regard to the social and economic status of the worker. How, practically, that is to be done is a question of our own intelligence. Perhaps some advisory body might be instituted in London, financed by the large British interests in Latin America, such as would devote itself to the study of the conditions of life surrounding the workers in those lands, or at least as regards their own employees. I offer this suggestion on behalf of the poorer folk of these lands. They generally look to the "Ingles" as a person of influence—one, moreover, whose pockets are always, they imagine, lined with silver! In their way these folk believe that noblesse oblige (in their own term for that concept) is a universal axiom of the Englishman, and there is something almost pathetic in this faith in a foreigner. Let us beware that by negligence or greed we do not forfeit this esteem. I offer the suggestion also as a contributory safeguard to British investment here.
Apart from the attitude of the individual worker in these communities in relation to foreign capital, we shall be well advised to keep in touch with the attitude not only of the workers as a whole but of the Governments which control national affairs. Of late there have been certain indications that a policy of antagonism towards foreign capital and enterprises is growing up. It has been very marked in Mexico, but in Argentina, a much more advanced community, and in the Brazilian States it is at times disquieting. It is not so much antagonism, however, as a feeling of dissatisfaction that the earnings from national or public works should go to foreign shareholders. The Argentine railways of late years have felt a good deal this disturbing element; as also the burden of numerous strikes. British capital was the pioneer in building railways in the republic, and has conferred enormous benefit upon it. More than 15,000 miles of line are owned by British companies, or three times as much as the remaining mileage, which is French and national mainly. Whilst these railways are, it is generally conceded, worked and controlled as economically and efficiently as ever, it cannot be said that they are undertakings so profitable as should cause envious eyes to be cast upon them. For the past few years the average net return of these British-owned railways in Argentina has not exceeded the modest amount of three and a half per cent. This is a low return, especially for Argentina, where two or three times the yield is obtained on ordinary safe mortgages on houses and land. The British-owned banks in South America may yield twenty per cent. profit. Yet voices arise in the land, asking why the transport of the country should be conducted for the interests of foreign shareholders, and begin to demand a larger share. A cry of this kind soon becomes general, and when a government has come into power on the strength of popular promises—and to obtain votes and power this condition arises now in South America, as in all other lands—it has to attempt to carry out its promises, and the line of least resistance here is sometimes the foreign corporation. There is one simple remedy which discontented governments and folk here could apply—in purchasing for themselves the shares of the railway companies in the open market, but it does not appear that this legitimate operation is much indulged in.
With regard to the native labour, it is to be recollected that there are few (or no) laws to safeguard it from exploitation by the employer. It is only just beginning to learn how to combine in its own interest. As I have shown in these pages, it is in many instances and throughout the whole region often over-exploited. The upper-class employer, the Spanish American, does not lack kindliness and charity, but it is contrary to his custom and outlook to think much of the labourer. The Spaniard and the Portuguese have been oppressive in this connexion throughout history.
Strikes in Argentina and Uruguay have of late become very bitter in character, and bloodshed generally occurs. Trains have been derailed and passengers and drivers fired upon. It is to be recollected that labour is not necessarily all of the native stock, but is supplemented by the flow from turbulent Spanish and Italian sources. The poor Iberian or Calabrian comes over with a sense of wrong against society, which in his own lands he often has good reason to nourish, and which he cannot throw aside on this new soil as readily as he may the picturesque native costume of his fatherland. In this respect we might indeed say—Coelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt. The great estuary of the River Plate receives in its haven many a discontented emigrant, many an agitator from the Latin lands of Europe, whose social defects, national and individual, by a curious combination of circumstance, many an English home—holder of shares in Argentine and Brazilian railways—is, in a sense, called upon to expiate!
There can be little doubt, moreover, that the reins of power in certain South American States tend to fall more and more into the hands of politicians of a very democratic type—not to say socialistic—and as the education of the "proletariat" increases this element is likely to increase. The Cabinet formed of "doctors," of the upper and select strata of society, men of distinguished type—but often out of touch and indeed sympathy with the masses of their poorer countrymen—and of military men, also of the upper strata, is likely to be more and more diluted with the ruder element who bears, sincerely or for political purposes, the social wrongs of his constituents as his creed. In brief, we may expect to see in Latin America a wave of that unrest which now has submerged Russia, perhaps Germany, and which in some degree threatens every land. Let us hope that, before it is too late, the channels of human intelligence will flow with a true spirit of humanity and the milk of human kindness and order. But the general world-outlook is not encouraging, and no doubt there is yet to be bitter experience in these lands of Cancer and Capricorn, of Central and South America, in the development of their social affairs.
The relations of foreigners with the Latin American people opens a wide field of discussion, upon which we may lightly touch.
The social culture of these communities in the past has been most greatly influenced by French ideas, and France is still the ideal nation. It may be that France, by reason of her apostasy and her expulsion of the religious orders from her shores in recent time, has lost prestige however.
The relations of the Americans of the United States with the people of Latin America present a number of interesting conditions and problems. The two types of people and their civilizations differ from each other in every respect, yet, neighbours on the same continent and twin-continent, they are and in the future will be more and more thrown into contact with each other. The situation is such as that which would arise if England and Spain or England and France found themselves with a common frontier, that of only a small river, or the imaginary one of a parallel of latitude between them. This is exemplified on the Mexico-United States border, where the two races, the Spanish American and the Anglo-Saxon American—if that term may be correctly applied to the people of the United States—come into contact but do not assimilate.
The first problem is one of nomenclature. The people of the United States have arrogated to themselves the name of "Americans," although, of course, this belongs equally to all inhabitants of the New World. The Latin Americans do not necessarily agree with the pretension, and have among themselves applied the term Norteamericanos to their northern neighbours—that is, "North Americans." This alternates with the term Yanquis, the hispanicized form of the soubriquet "Yankee," of doubtful origin; not, however, necessarily used in a derogatory fashion, but familiarly. The word gringo is also a common term applied to the Americans; not, however, to them alone, but to any foreigner not of Latin race. The origin of this term is obscure, and it cannot be said to be a flattering designation. The word is often meant, however, as describing a person whose hair and eyes are not dark, contrasting thus with the general type of the Latin American. Blue eyes and blonde hair are essentially gringo.
The Americans of the United States, as has often been pointed out, are a people without a distinctive or appropriate race name. The Canadian, the Mexican, the Brazilian, the Peruvian and all other units of America have their own designation. So far no term for the American has developed, and convenience warrants the usage of that they have adopted, which is as if a single nation of Europe were to take to itself the name European. To the American aborigine, whether in the Northern or Southern continent, ethnologists have applied the term Amerind, a contraction of "American Indian," and the word seems to have been adopted, at least as a technical term. (No one, however, has applied the name "Amersaxon" to the people of the United States, although it would be equally correct.)
The relation between the two races, or rather the common possession of the New World by them, has given rise to that peculiar and well-known policy or system known as the Monroe Doctrine. Washington recommended the policy that the United States should refrain from entangling itself in the politics of Europe. The converse, that Europe should be prevented from meddling in American affairs, grew as the importance of the United States increased, and was enunciated—after a hint from Canning—by President Monroe, in a message to Congress in 1823, at the time of the "Holy Alliance" of European Powers, which it was feared would attempt to restore the dominion of Spain to the Spanish American colonies, which had asserted their independence. "We should consider any attempt on their part (the European Powers) to extend their system to any portion of this hemisphere as dangerous to our peace and safety. With the existing colonies of any European Power we have not interfered and shall not interfere. But with the Governments who have declared their independence we could not view any interposition for the purpose of oppressing them or controlling their destiny by any European Power in any other light than as the manifestation of an unfriendly disposition towards the United States." So ran the decree.
The Latin American States, whilst probably not ungrateful for the Doctrine in general, resent any assertion of hegemony upon the part of the United States. They do not regard themselves as in any way inferior thereto, except as concerns the material development of the more mechanical arts of civilization. Their own social culture, the traditions of the caballero, or gentleman, they consider as superior, and if truth must be told, it is so in some respects. The people of the United States—and Canada—have preferred the less-polished and more practical outlook and social port; the Spanish American the more reserved and ceremonious. Indeed, the southern folk often regard the northerner as uncultured. There is no doubt that the two races have a good deal to learn from each other, the southerner in the practical things of life, the northerner in social amenities, and each could well absorb some of the virtues of the other.
Until very recent times there was a disposition on the part of the Spanish American people to imagine the northerner as disposed to overrun them, and there was an element in the United States which undoubtedly had such purpose before it. But probably this is past, and the idea that the Monroe Doctrine of "America for the Americans" meant in reality "America for the North Americans," may die out. The judicious and generous attitude of the United States in Cuba after the war between the United States and Spain has been put against the methods employed, for example, in the case of Panama and the Canal. Mexico, however, remains a difficult question, upon whose future relations with her neighbour it would be impossible to dogmatize. The United States at the present time are in the heyday of their commercial life, and would appear to be resolved to conquer the Latin American countries commercially. This may or may not lead to strife in the future. We shall not forget that the Great War was, in large degree, the outcome of the modern phase of commercial jealousy, and what developments the future holds we cannot foresee.
We ought not to close our survey of the Latin American nations without at least briefly recording their attitude in the Great War, in the question of right against might, of civilization against German savagery. Far out of the beaten track of European (and North American) affairs as are these growing nations, their history in this connexion might readily be forgotten, and its importance overlooked.
It was not unnatural perhaps that the Latin American Republics should have been tardy in entering into the war, in view of the attitude of the senior Republic of the Western Hemisphere—the United States—which hung so long in the balance. It did not at all follow that they would imitate that country. In some respects they might do so; in others they did not necessarily regard their cousin of the north with entire confidence. However, they were greatly influenced thereby.
The earlier attitude of the United States towards the war must ever remain a source of wonder to the historian, accompanied by regret. It was largely, if not principally, the result of the attitude of their President, Dr. Woodrow Wilson. It will be recollected that the United States did not enter the war against the German barbarians until April, 1917—that is, over two and a half years after the outbreak of the war. That was the period necessary for the Republic to overcome its own suspicion of Europe, and especially England; to overcome its own self-interest, to awaken to the truth; and this notwithstanding all the horrors that had been visited upon Belgium. Long after these dreadful occurrences had sunk into the mind of the Allies, who, originally unprepared for war, were fighting for their life in support of humanity against the huge organized army which Germany had for decades been building up to carry out her ambitions, the American President could send out his extraordinary Note to all the belligerents (December, 1916) stating that in his view "the objects on both sides appeared to be the same." In plain words, the respective merits of the combatants were as good or bad as each other! In this view, however, to the credit of the United States, it should be said that a large body of Americans had a much clearer moral perception of the issues at stake than their leader, and among them was the vigorous ex-President, Mr. Roosevelt. But it required a direct blow in the face for the United States before the President could shake off his pacifist attitude, and actual injury to American property and life; and this incentive was furnished by the German submarine activity and the sinking of American ships. The United States' interposition in the war had not been asked for by England and the Allies at first, but it had become evident long before that the Republic should have ranged itself on the side of law, order, and humanity; and America lost an opportunity, which may never recur, of asserting her moral influence in the world—a loss which, it may be said, is hers as much as that of Europe. The American interposition was of great value when it did come, but the bulk of the work had been done. America was almost too late to save her prestige and to take efficient part in this great adventure. When the Americans did enter they displayed great energy and valour, and it must also be recollected that the part the United States had played in the supply of munitions of war, foodstuffs, credit and so forth had been of the utmost value, and there was more in this than a mere business transaction.
The Latin American States did not necessarily hasten to follow President Wilson's implied suggestion of February, 1917, on severing diplomatic relations with Germany, that the remaining neutral States should follow suit, which no doubt was largely aimed at the southern republics. There were various reasons against it. Many of these thought their own interests would best be served by remaining neutral; some were afraid of Germany—it was not unnatural. Some were angered with France, for reasons later discussed; some were—at least clerically—pro-German. On the whole, however, it must be recorded that Latin American sympathy as a whole was, and had been from the beginning, on the side of the Allies. It would indeed have augured ill for their moral perception if the reverse had been the case, and would have seriously injured them in the eyes of historians.
Of these twenty independent Latin American States, eight actually entered the war, on the side of the Allies and the United States. They were (in alphabetical order) Brazil, Costa Rica, Cuba, Guatemala, Haiti, Honduras, Nicaragua and Panama. Five broke off relations with Germany but did not declare war. They were Bolivia, Ecuador, Peru, San Domingo (the Dominican Republic) and Uruguay. Peru and Uruguay were practically belligerents, by their various acts against Germany, but Germany did not appear so to regard them. However, both these republics were invited to the Peace Conference, and signed the Peace Treaty. Seven republics remained neutral. They were Argentina, Chile, Colombia, Mexico, Paraguay, Salvador and Venezuela.
Putting the area of Latin America at nine million square miles and the population at ninety millions (of both these items various estimates are given), it may be said that six million square miles and fifty million people were at least non-neutral.
However, such figures must be taken for what they were worth. Only Brazil and Cuba took any active part. Argentina and Chile, the two most important and powerful States after Brazil, carefully preserved their neutral attitude. (It will be recollected that the group of the three greatest Powers of Latin America, which have been termed the "A B C" Powers, are Argentina, Brazil and Chile.) Mexico, the second largest State of Latin America in point of population, was also neutral, and at one time appeared to be strongly pro-German—an attitude which was partly instrumental in influencing the United States to take up arms.
It must always be recollected, again, that the official attitude of these States—as in the case of the United States also, before it took part—did not necessarily represent that of the majority of the intelligent classes.
The actual entry of Brazil did not come until October, 1917; that of Cuba came simultaneously with that of the United States. Peru broke off relations with Germany in October; Ecuador in December; Bolivia in February (with the United States); Uruguay in October; Panama at the same period; Guatemala in April; Honduras and Nicaragua in May; Costa Rica in September; Haiti and San Domingo in July.
We may cast a glance at the various influences at work in the respective attitudes of these States towards the war.
Some of the States regarded with alarm the possibilities of a German victory as such would concern themselves. They had not forgotten that their independence was largely a result of the European outburst that followed the French Revolution, nor yet the designs of Napoleon on the Spanish American colonies and Brazil, which England had helped to thwart, and those of Spain and the Holy Alliance after Independence, which, again, England and the United States had frustrated. They knew Germany but for the Monroe Doctrine—an Anglo-American creation—would long ago have striven to help herself to South American territory. On the other hand, German propaganda had been especially active and sinister among them during the war—business men and professors—and the Germans had strong influence there. Also Spanish and other clerical influences were at work among them, often representing France as the great atheist nation, due to her anti-Church legislation and apostasy, and—for example in Chile—it was even said that Germany was the chosen instrument of heaven to punish France on this account. Further, there was always the smouldering distrust of the "Colossus of the North," the Norteamericanos of the United States, which it was often thought desired to exercise an undue hegemony over Latin America. Colombia retained an animus against the United States as a result of the Panama affair.
The most active spirit in Brazil on the side of the right was the eminent Brazilian statesman, Ruy Barbosa, and it was soon seen where the sympathies of Brazil lay. Submarine outrages on her merchant marine and other motives brought forth pronouncements against the German assassins, and the seizure of the large German vessels in Brazilian ports followed, and both public and official opinion led to the rupture. The Brazilian Navy co-operated with that of the Allies, and Brazil even sent forces to the Western front, and the republic assisted with supplies. As for Argentina, the war brought her enormous prosperity as a neutral, but here the neutrality was far more official than popular, and was largely motivated by the President. An episode in Argentina was in the famous Spurlos Versenkt Notes of the unspeakable Luxburg, the German Chargé d'Affaires in the republic, of May and July, 1917. "As regards Argentine steamers," he wrote to his Government—through the medium of the Swedish Minister at Buenos Ayres, be it noted!—"I recommend either compelling them to turn back, letting them through, or sinking them without trace." This devilishly cynical pronouncement goes down to history with that of the infamous German "scrap of paper" argument. Argentine neutral citizens were to be murdered in cold blood for German ends! The Minister received his passports, the German club in Buenos Ayres was burnt by the mob, and there was a popular demand for a break with Germany; and the Senate passed resolutions. But it ended in nothing. It has been said that President Irrigoyen's extraordinary attitude in opposing the popular mind was due to pro-German feeling—which, however, was denied; to his aversion from merely following in the wake of the United States; and from a desire to preserve Argentina from war in order that his deep-seated plans of social and economic reform might not be disturbed. Be it as it may, Argentina lost her chance.
With regard to Chile, neutrality also was profitable, in the enormous demand for her nitrates. German influence was very strong in the country, both in matters military and educational; and the clerical attribute—the Church is powerful in Chile—was also a factor, as before remarked. But a large element viewed Germany with detestation, and the republic "reserved its right to act in the event of hostility against her vessels." However, Chile also lost her opportunity.
It is to be noted that it was the submarine policy of Germany in the direct attack upon vessels which was the determining factor in all these principal republics, from the United States downward.
The attitude of Uruguay was always pro-Ally. The Government of that country issued a noteworthy decree in defining its position: that "no American country, which, in defence of its own rights, should find itself in a state of war with nations of other continents will be treated as a belligerent." It may be said in general terms that the attitude of all these States proclaimed the principle of "American solidarity," or Pan-Americanism.
The considerable element of British whose homes or occupations are in Latin America followed the varying fortunes of the war with eagerness, for the name and fame of England is dear to these exiled sons. Their hearts were broken with the Tarapacá disaster to the British squadron, but resuscitated by the great victory of the Falkland Isles. It must not be forgotten that they, in considerable number, left their homes and occupations and came to England as volunteers early in the war. They were not grouped together as a separate force, being of so scattered an origin. But the King approved a special badge for them, and England should be grateful for their noble effort—we trust she was and is!
The effect of the war upon the Latin American States—whilst it cut off supplies at first of European manufactured goods and disorganized exchange and currency—was to cause an enormous demand for their raw materials, with corresponding increase of wealth. Even the first-named condition was a benefit in disguise, causing a development of home manufacture.
German trade in South America, for the time being, was ruined—a severe blow—a result of the British blockade. British and French trade of course suffered temporarily. The trade of the United States, on the other hand, increased: American goods replaced European, and it seemed at one time that the change might be permanent; but it was found that their goods were inferior, or at any rate less acceptable, than those of the older exporters. However, new horizons—trade, banking and so forth—opened in Latin America for the United States.
It cannot be said that the two American peoples know very much of each other. The aloofness is partly from geographical, partly from racial causes. Enormous distances separate their respective principal centres of life. New York and the city of Mexico, for example, are several thousand miles apart, although linked by more than one railway system. Huge deserts intervene, those dreadful wildernesses of Northern Mexico, on whose existence, indeed, an early president of Mexico, who distrusted the northern neighbour, was wont to congratulate his country, summing up the sentiment in his aphorism of "Between weakness and strength—the Desert!" As for communication by sea, it may be recollected that Europe is more accessible to, for example, Brazil and Argentina, than is New York. On the Pacific side of the continent the greater part of a hemisphere intervenes between the large centres of population of North and South America. From San Francisco, or other great seaports, to Callao and Valparaiso the steamer voyage occupies far more time than is necessary to cross the Atlantic. The people of Peru and Chile or Ecuador, and the people of California or Oregon are little more than names to each other, inhabitants of another world. Great stretches of undeveloped territory intervene, and through communication by rail has not yet been established, as the Pan-American Railway remains still on the lap of the future.
Among those nations which in the future may be reckoned upon as likely to display a desire for closer relations with Spanish America are the Chinese and the Japanese. The Mongolians seem to have—as before remarked—some affinity with the American Indian race, possibly by reason of some very ancient kinship or common ancestry, for it is held by ethnologists that America may have been very early peopled by Mongolians. In Peru, for example, the Chinaman readily establishes himself in business in the smaller villages (and often surrounds himself with several wives or female companions from among the Indian women). The Japanese have long cast eyes upon the upper reaches of the Amazon basin, or Montaña, of Peru and Brazil, for purposes of settlement and industry, and of late a company from Nippon has acquired a large tract of land there, with such an object. These folk are not unwelcome, or not so far, by the South Americans, who are desirous of seeing these vast and sparsely inhabited regions brought to life.
This possibility of a modern Mongolian "invasion" into the heart of South America is one which may take on greater importance in the future.
In general terms, however, it must be recollected that the Pacific Ocean is vast and wide. There is, nevertheless, a school of thought arising of late which affects to believe that the Pacific Ocean is destined to become the centre of the world's commercial activity. As this centre changed, they say, from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic, so will it change from the Atlantic to the Pacific. They regard the "basin" of the Pacific as a sort of entity, and look for enormous developments in this respect, of fleets bearing travellers and merchandise, of great interchange of products and so forth.
Whilst this view may be well-founded, I venture to think that certain natural factors have not been sufficiently taken into account. There is, first, the condition of enormous width from the Asiatic to the American shore; second, it is not sufficiently understood that this American shore, whether in North or South America, is in the nature of a narrow strip of land greatly cut off from the interior of the continents by vast mountain ranges and deserts. In North America the Sierra Nevadas and the Great American Desert have to be crossed between California and the eastern and central part of the United States, and the Rocky Mountains in Oregon and British Columbia, whilst in Mexico the Western Sierra Madre offers a similar obstacle. In South America, as we have seen, the Andes is a perfect mountain wall, cutting off the interior absolutely from the narrow and comparatively infertile Pacific littoral. The natural outlet of the vast area of South America is to the east; it falls to the Atlantic, not to the Pacific. Where, then, are the people and the products that would give rise to so great a movement upon the Pacific Ocean?
Lastly, I am inclined to doubt (although I may be in error) whether the future of the world is to show a vast increase in overseas trade and trafficking such as would change its centre of gravity in this respect. There are factors against such—as have been discussed in the chapter dealing with trade; factors of the natural development of self-supply, as against import of commodities, factors of the huge and increasing cost of transport, scarcity of fuel and so forth. Moreover, what does Asia want from America, or America from Asia? Both continents produce the things of the temperate and the tropic zones; both are capable of manufacturing the finished goods which they require.
Taking all these matters into consideration, it may be doubted if the Pacific Ocean is to attain to the great importance which some have imagined for it, although doubtless its traffic will increase.
A glance now towards the future of these great lands beneath the Southern American sun, and our task will be done. What is to be their future; what part are they to play in the great scene-shifting of the developing world?
First we shall have remarked that the Latin American people are material in the making. They are not a worn-out race; they are, rather, unformed, plastic, with their life before them. Second, they inhabit perhaps the richest portion of the surface of the globe, which, so far from being exhausted, has not been heavily drawn upon in some respects. It is true that coal, that adjunct of the civilization of the industrial age, is not plentiful (except in certain districts). But the future may not be so largely dependent upon this mineral. Possibly, moreover, Nature had a purpose in the absence of coal, ordaining that at least one of the world's continents should not undergo the terrors of the factory age!
Let us turn now to certain more general conditions.
The growth of the Latin American republics might seem to offer a future for the growth and even regeneration (and some writers have said the predominance again) of the Latin races in the world generally. Here, at least, is an enormous territory, some of the richest and most fertile on the globe, at present but thinly inhabited. By the close of the present century it might be that South America would contain 250 million people. A century ago there were but 15 millions. Of course the enormous growth of the population in Europe and the United States has been a result of the machine, or industrial age—by no means an unmixed good. This has depended upon the resources of coal, iron and so forth in their soils, and statistics and forecasts show that these resources, under the present system of depletion and waste, especially in England and the United States, will tend to exhaustion in a few generations. Whether that will lead to a corresponding decline in population remains to be seen, but in this and other respects it may be said that coming events cast their shadows before. Probably the greatest reproach that can be placed upon Anglo-Saxon life to-day is that we are drawing heavily upon the exhaustible resources of the earth without establishing the basis of a permanent or adequate civilization.
It should be urged that the time has come when we should take a more comprehensive, judicious and constructive outlook upon the world—its natural resources and its folk. We are inclined to think that Nature's resources, because partly unexplored here and there, are "exhaustless." The Spanish American people are fond of speaking of their inagotable riqueza natural—their "inexhaustible natural resources"; but these are not inexhaustible, as I have elsewhere remarked. We need a survey, a stocktaking, of the earth's resources; we need to conserve, to economize them. It is a remarkable fact, however, that the latest pronouncement of the League of Nations contains no idea or suggestion of a fundamental policy of retrenchment, conservation, development of these potentialities. The pronouncement, which seems to be largely an echo of President Wilson's original "Fourteen Points"—which doubtless had among them certain merits at the time of their enunciation—does not get beyond advocating "increased production," the "entire removal of all economic barriers," in this respect. In brief, it is the old dreary doctrine, largely, of creating and selling, of forcing goods on communities and folk who do not necessarily need them, without any scientific outlook upon the native potentialities and requirements, or the world's natural divisions—a dreadful "internationalism" which we hoped was declining. The League of Nations, as regards its economic knowledge and spirit, is a magnificent opportunity wasted, or will be so unless it develops into something far more fundamentally intelligent. This matter of outlook by so important a body is of vital importance to the Latin American States, as to all others. The exploitation of the great remaining natural resources of these countries—as is the case with many others—cannot be successfully done under the present relations of labour and capital. Capital must have its fair reward, labour must be fairly paid; but the two things at present clash, and we shall have to find the way out before the enormous, but not fruitless, wilderness of South America and Mexico can yield up what they contain. The cream of the earth's resources has been skimmed everywhere; the remainder calls for much more scientific consideration.
Indeed, it is impossible to forecast what the future of the world—which has been shaken to its foundations by recent events—is to be. Civilization may advance or it might recede, or hang fire for centuries. That depends upon the efforts and the conscience of mankind. It may be that a quieter, less strenuous life awaits it, with less of material activity and more of moral and intellectual growth. In fact, some of us who have studied the world in its economic and political aspects, will doubt if the present type of civilization has not reached its apogee and is to enter on some other phase, a phase which we believe and hope is to be of the nature indicated.
If that be so, there is no reason why the Latin American States should not acquire growing importance. The character of their more thoughtful and educated classes is towards such a life, whilst the resources of Nature they command could afford them everything needful for their existence. The Spanish American lands have been dowered with every variety of climate and product, and by going up or down their valleys their folk can gather every known food-product or thing of the animal, vegetable and mineral world.
As to their character for national turbulence, it has been shown in these pages that such disturbing influences are but the activities of a relatively small class. Their ideals are high, their aim is towards a high civilization. Some of the nations of the Old World that considered themselves foremost in civilization—such as Germany and Austria—have shown by their actions that they can fall lower in barbarity than any of the most backward nations. Moreover, all nations are restless, all their cultures are in the melting-pot, all are at fault. There must be regeneration and reconstruction everywhere.
The future of the world will be in the exercise of true spiritual factors, interwoven with or influencing what I have, elsewhere, ventured to term ethical-economic constructive principles.[45] From a wise consideration of these, there must emerge a "science of corporate life," or science of humanity, which will learn to build up the true "economic structure" of society, in conjunction with its intellectual and spiritual activities—a constructive human geography, which will aim at the true and final reaction of mankind from its environment. Elemental forces are at work, for good or ill, at the present time, and elemental forces must be met by fundamental principles. One nation to-day is almost as far from such a philosophy as another, although to-morrow might see the turning of a page which should disclose its beginnings. In this evolving book of life the Latin American Republics have their opportunity, as far as the possible exercise of principle goes, with all other nations.
The problem for these nations is to bring on their own culture, avoiding, if possible, the errors of Europe and the United States: that is, avoiding the factors of industrial unrest and economic waste that have accompanied progress. They could profit by example and experience gained by these other lands: to bring on the education and economic uplifting of the backward masses of their people, not by crowding them into factories or refusing them a living wage, not by drawing so heavily on their fruitful soils as to begin to exhaust these, but by methods more in accordance with those principles which alone can ensure permanence and nobility.
We have seen that the Latin American nations have been dowered by Providence with everything that could make a people prosperous and contented, if wisely disposed. In some respects their circumstances are superior to those of Europe and Asia. They have no over-powerful or rapacious neighbours, no chasms of race or religion to divide them, no insensate trade rivalries—things such as in the Old World have wrought such havoc with mankind. To the traveller who has sojourned in these lands it will always remain a matter of interest to see how their lives develop, what fortune or vicissitudes befall them. Under any circumstances, they offer a field of abiding interest—scenic, natural, antiquarian—and their folk are likely ever to retain the traits which attract us. Commerce and business will doubtless grow and expand between them and the Old World, or their neighbours of the United States, with corresponding benefits, but there are many features of the region which fortunately will never fall under the domain of business. One thing, again, which humanity needs is more intercourse, and Latin America is too remote from us. Books are useful, but there should be a greater interflow of people. Unfortunately, it is a feature of life now that travel becomes more rather than less expensive, and we do not know what the future may hold for or against the traveller in this connexion.