Rise of the House of Lopez - A Paraguay AAR

[Cinéad IV]

Journal of Dr. Thomas Mitchell.

2nd of February, 1836

I finally reached Buenos Ayres at two o'clock this afternoon. The weather is warm, and wet. My clothes are clinging to my body as I write this. It is certainly much hotter than my beloved Providence, though I had expected that. What I never expected was just how humid this damned continent would be. By God, I miss the cold! I would give my right arm to stand knee deep in some snow right now.

All around me, porters are clambering with goods. I sincerely hope they do not break anything of mine. I'm sure anyone reading this could forgive me for not being particularly trusting of these Argentines. For the past twenty years or so, this whole land has been engulfed in civil strife and dictatorship of one sort or another. If that does not have a deletrious effect on the character of the inhabitants, then God knows what would. Now and then, I spot what I take to be one of the gauchos - the horsemen of the pampas who periodically intervene in Argentine politics to the favour of one dictator or another. Everything in Argentine politics rests on the politics of these ruthless men who have, I am told, been instrumental in any number of horrid atrocities. Thus far, though, they have been nice as ninepence to me. Must be a rare thing to see in these parts, an American.

I am booked to stay in the Hotel de la Piax, beside the theatre. I fancy I might go to see whatever they are showing, as I am assured that there are no theatres in Paraguay and it might be my last chance for some time.

Where I'm headed is far, far inland, many hundreds of miles up the River Paraná. I had never heard of Paraguay before my contact with Dr. Francia. I have made a concerted effort to read up on the subject, and familiarise myself with the history of this obscure place. From what I have read, it seems to have a rather remarkable history. It is, like other South American nations, composed primarily of mestizos - born of Spanish and Indian parents. Unlike the rest of the continent, however, the Indians have retained their rights to a much greater extent, and their language is considered on an almost equal footing with Spanish, for the Indians absorbed the Spanish and not the other way round. For three hundred years, the country was dominated by Jesuits, who effectively organised a Jesuit republic within the Spanish Empire. Though they have long been kicked out, their legacy of autocracy remains. Whilst there is a creole nobility, Dr. Francia, the Dictator, is in the process of taxing and brutalising them out of existence. They are not even allowed to marry amongst themselves, but must choose husbands and wives from amongst the Indians and Negroes so that all men might be equal. Quite incredible, if you ask me.

Furthermore, this Dr. Francia is a remarkable character in himself. It is near impossible to get any written material on the man - so obscure and reclusive is his country that few outside of South America have ever heard of him. Just to get here, I had to be issued with a special pass permitting me not only to enter the country, but to go home again afterwards. Apparently, most foreigners, once in Paraguay, are simply not allowed to leave! There is no foreign debt, and very little contact with the outside world - my very visit goes against all convention. I only hope that Dr. Francia intends to let me go once I have done my work. I have heard wild stories about his treatment of other foreigners - there are supposedly dozens of them languishing in jails in the capital, Asunción, because he does not wish them to return to their own countries with information about his.

Buenos Ayres is a messy, crowded, heaving mass of people. I can only hope Asuncion is nicer. From what I have heard, Paraguay is a poor, backward place. But from what I have observed here, such a notion does not seem out of keeping with the rest of South America. I find myself troubled by the fact that, for the next four years, this will be my new home.



Buenos Ayres, capital city of Argentina in the mid 19th century.

[Cinéad IV]

Game Info.

VIP 1.04B

No cheating – though two small modifications were made:

· Three of Paraguay's provinces which formerly produced cattle now produce tea, to reflect the yerba maté (Paraguayan tea) export which was vital to the Paraguayan economy during the 19th century.

· Paraguay does not control Bahia Negra and Puerto Guaraní at the beginning. Trade posts will need to be built to reflect the fact that Paraguayan sovereignty in these furthest provinces was purely theoretical. It's more historically acurate, which is what I'm aiming for.

The overall objective was to be a Great Power by 1920, without nonsensical use of immigration. It was an interesting game, and a challenging one, and I would recommend Paraguay to anyone brave enough to take her on

CMcU

[Jingles]

Looks good! A nice writing style. I am always a fan of more historic modifications(can never do them myself ). It will be interesting to see how a seldom played and even less often scrutinized country such as Paraguay develops (hopefully) into a world power. Good luck!

[mib]

Underdog AAR! I like.

[coz1]

Excellent! I always enjoy a South American AAR. Good luck and I like the changes made to reflect accuracy. Further, I really enjoy the journal style. I hope you keep at that. I'll be following.

[Sleepyhead]

I love South American AARs! Keep it coming.

[Cinéad IV]

20th of February, 1836

We have now been sailing up the river for more than a fortnight. On board are myself, and three Argentine merchants who claim to have special trading privileges with Paraguay. Or at least, they say they do. The ships' crew speak neither Spanish nor English: what they speak is, I presume, Guaraní, which I shall have to familiarise myself with if I plan to stay in Paraguay for any length of time. It is harsh and gutteral, completely different to Spanish, and full of unwieldy words. I imagine that if it were to be written down, there would be no such thing as a full stop or even a space! We communicate to them through one of the Argentines, who speaks a little of their language. They are not, however, particularly talkative. A few times now, I have made friendly gestures, or offered them some of my whisky, yet they do not seem interested. I cannot help but wonder if my association with Dr. Francia in some way intimidates them. They simply sit, muttering to eachother, drinking their yerba maté (the local substitute for tea).

The River Paraná is about a mile across, and muddy. There are alligators on every side, seemingly awaiting the capcise of what is, admittedly, a precariously constructed ship. On both banks, thus far, there have been all the signs of civil strife one would expect from a nation like Argentina: burnt out villages, broken down churches, abandoned fields and overgrown plantations. From what I know of Paraguay, it has no real political instability, other than that brought by the rebellious Indians in the north, and Dr. Francia's periodical bullying of the Spaniards and foreigners. Everything is kept under his iron fist. I await my arrival with anticipation.



A 19th century view of the Parana, gateway to Paraguay

[Cinéad IV]

10th of March, 1836

We have finally reached Asunción. But my, what a strange land this is, so alien to the American eye. There cannot be more than 20,000 people in the city as a whole. When I arrived, just before sunset, there was a hot, steamy mist all around - this place is hotter even than Buenos Ayres. The countryside is red with iron ore, and there is a heavy red dust everywhere. The whole city has a feeling of decrepitness, as if very little is ever fixed or replaced. Perhaps it is as Constantinople is, another decrepit society kept under the boot of tyrants. Everything about Asunción bears the hallmark of the Spanish colonial period - the architecture is much as you would expect in Mexico, or some other former Spanish colony. There are very little in the way of anemities - very few shops, and certainly no theatres or resteraunts. There are schools, government buildings and a cathedral, albeit spartan in their design. The roads are little more than tracks in the dust, but relatively clean - it is forbidden to litter, on pain of death.

The people are hospitable enough, though they do seem genuinely surprised at my appearance, and are reluctant to engage in any long dialogue with me. Most of them are Indians, probably with some small degree of Spanish blood though it hardly shows. There are a few Black slaves - here too, slavery is still allowed, although I get the impression that the slaves here are somewhat freer than those in our own American south, and are held more as domestic servants. Many people could fit easilly into any one of the three racial groups, for years of isolation must surely have broken down most of the barriers that usually preclude miscegenation. What did surprise me were the Payaguya Indians, naked except for wooden piercings in their lower lips and multicoloured bird-wings in their ears. They sell fruit and handicrafts in the streets, drink themselves insensible at the docks, then head back across the Paraguay River in their canoes to homes in the Chaco, that vast, unconquered wilderness which Francia theoretically controls, but in reality is the only place in the country which he doesn't.



Payaguya women collecting water for Asunción's shopkeepers.

Very few people are well dressed - most go barefoot, in ponchos and loose shirts. Most curious, though, is the fact that everybody seems to possess some amount of silver. The poor Indian women are positively laden with it, and the men on horseback are barefoot, but wear heavy silver spurs. Some of the children are naked, which given the savage heat of this place, one could almost forgive. Everyone smokes cigars - men, women and children. All around there is a strong flavour of poverty, yet at the same time nobody seems to be starving as I would had supposed. I watched a chain gang trudging past under the scrutiny of two soldiers, on the way to a road building project on the outside of town. A half-dozen weary, brown faces glared at me as if I was the first foreigner they had ever seen. They were held in shackles, presumably for some crime or another that Francia does not approve of. The soldiers, seeing that they were observing me, beat one of them till the blood ran from his ears.

This is a rootless place, yet at the same time the people give the impression that they have always been here. I do not know what to make of it. I have yet to see one of the Spanish creoles who were supposed to make up the aristocracy - I fancy they are all hiding out in their estates in fear of their lives. The dictator does not, from what I have heard thus far, maintain cordial relations with them. He is rumoured by some to be the son of a mulatto, and he maintains a hatred to those Spaniards who look down on him because of his ancestry. He sees them as a barrier to progress, perhaps as the French Revolutionaries viewed their own aristocracy as a barrier to theirs. Francia is an admirer of Robespierre and Murat.

I was greeted at the dock by a well dressed bureaucrat who checked my papers and stamped them. The three Argentine traders were admitted too: I presume they did have some legitimate business in Paraguay afterall. It seems that everyone in Paraguay is employed by the state to some extent: we needed papers to get into the country from Argentina, and there was a check point half way between the border and Asunción. At the Argentine border, I witnessed guards kicking an Argentine into the river and ridiculing him because he did not have the correct papers. Sometimes, supposedly, they simply shoot anyone they do not like the look of. A massive fort, manned with relatively modern artillery guards the river. El Supremo keeps a very tight leash on his people.

I was escorted to the hotel by my bureaucrat. I am not to leave on any circumstances without a guide, which rather intimidates me. My room, however, is well furnished and very comfortable. Dinner was lovely - a steak done in some spicy tomato marinade, washed down by the local yerba maté, which is quite tolerable and strangely refreshing. I tried to speak to the hostess in my broken Spanish, but she either could not or would not reply. I have heard it said that many Paraguayans do not even speak Spanish, but only Guaraní. Either that, or she is simply not allowed to talk to foreign guests, which I could well believe given the evidence I have seen in other quarters.

My meeting with Dr. Francia is tomorrow, at 12 o'clock. Part of me is terrified - this man is demonstrably a tyrant. Another part of me is genuinely curious. If so bad, how does he maintain such a well run country? He obviously has the welfare of his subjects in mind when he is willing to pay phenomenal wages to foreign doctors like myself. I will only be working here for four years, and the wages are double what I could expect at home. From what he explained in his letter, I will not only be working with rich, fee paying clients, bur ordinary Paraguayans. What are his plans? How do they affect me?

[stnylan]

A very curious start. I wonder if it is only in the matter of medicine that our Doctor has gbeen hired.

[coz1]

There is a hint of Conrad in the writing that I enjoy a great deal. And Paraguay has it's work cut out for it to be a world power in 80 years.

[anonymous4401]

Paraguay would be tough. Good luck.

[Cinéad IV]

13th of March, 1836



Dr. Jose Gaspar Roderiguez de Francia, Perpetual Dictator of Paraguay as a younger man



The meeting with Dr. Francia went reasonably well. I must say though, I am left even more confused having met the man than I was beforehand.

Just before 11 o'clock the same bureaucrat who had greeted me at the dock collected me from the hotel. I was taken, by carriage, to the presidential palace on the outskirts of the city. I couldn't help but be amazed by the frugality of the place - for a man with an entire country at his behest, Francia does not live the life of a king by any standards. The Presidential Palace was more of a stately house, all on one floor around a courtyard in the Spanish fashion. It cannot have more than ten bedrooms. Francia, from what I have read beforehand, is not married: he does not believe in it.

We were marched into the house by two Guaraní soldiers, presumably handpicked for their loyalty. The soldiers of Paraguay do not have uniforms like the gaily attired armies of Europe, or other Latin American countries. They wear simple ponchos of an ugly beige colour, and carry a lance at all times. I have only seen two or three soldiers with guns, and those must have been at least a hundred years old. The officers dress in tunics of the same ugly beige as the soldiers, though they are distinguished by rusty sabres. Those soldiers I have seen do not even behave as part of an organised military. They smoke and drink in the streets like ordinary citizens. They just so happen to have weapons, and free reign to terrorise the populace if they should see fit.

Francia's guards searched both me and my bureaucrat for weapons, in the off chance that one or other of us might be planning an assassination attempt. Another one of those curious little rumours one hears about 'El Supremo' is that anyone caught within a hundred yards of the palace without good grounds is summarily shot. He values his privacy very highly. I was very intimidated as we went into the palace. The heat and the fear made me sweat, though my companion showed no such concerns. He is probably one of Francia's numerous spies, and knows that his life at least is relatively safe.

We were marched through a long corridor, lined with portraits of what I presumed to be the good doctor's ancestors or former Paraguayan politicians. On closer inspection, however, I recognised a number of philosophers and French revolutionary statesmen. Danton, Rousseau, Voltaire. It made me shudder to see Robespierre staring down at me from beyond the grave, his cold eyes in oil and his head still firmly on his shoulders. What manner of man keeps such a portrait?

Francia's study is spartan, though he keeps a massive collection of books on all subjects. He is demonstrably a very learned man. His doctorate is in law, and I know that he studied theology at some point. Ironic, given that he is an atheist. In the centre of the study was one, massive mahogany desk, covered in books and papers. Here, presumably, the minutiae of Paraguayan life is decided, I thought to myself. Everywhere was cluttered with the most random of books - I noted a History of the Napoleonic Wars lying on top of a book entitled Flaura and Fauna of the South Andes. One solitary candle lit the whole room, the windows of which were closed off by heavy drapes to make the heat even more intolerable. And behind the desk was El Supremo himself.

He is not an imposing man. He sits, hunched in his chair. He is old: at least 60. From what I saw, age has not been kind to him, though he was evidently handsome at some point in his life. His cheeks are haggard, the visage of a man wearied by life. Everything about his face inclines to the centre, giving him the look of a corpse not yet expired. His mouth is small, and thin lipped, making him appear cold. If he has African blood, as the rumour mongers of Buenos Ayres would have me believe, it does not show for he is translucently pale, almost unhealthily so. He wears his hair combed back from his face and tightly fastened in a pony-tail at the back of his head in the old fashioned manner. When we met, he was swathed in a massive black fur. God only knows why, as the heat was enough to make any ordinary mortal faint. He wears no regalia, no sashes or chains of office as one would expect of a South American dictator. He is nothing like the Bolivar or San Martin I had expected, bedecked in gold lace and medals. Everything about him is plain, frugal and inconspicuous, yet strangely terrifying at the same time. He was dressed wholly in black.

He greeted me without rising to shake my hand: he beckoned me to sit down. I sat in front of him, and my bureaucrat left the room, presumably to report on my movements to some of the president's other underlings. Francia speaks slowly and carefully, as though every word he says is calculated for maximum impact. He did not say much to me in his broken English: only that I was one of five foreign doctors who he had invited to attend the needs of his people. How he heard of me in particular, I have no idea for he never intimated that knowledge. I have very few patients rich enough to keep company with dictators, and I know of no medical journal which has mentioned me by name. The other doctors, from what the president told me, were coming from France, Britain and Austria. He did not trust the Spanish enough to allow their medics into the country.

He instructed me that I would be provided with buildings and the necessary equipment to maintain a practice and that my duties would include not only doctoring, but the training of Paraguayan medics as well. I will receive my pay at the end of my three years. Until then, I must live on a very generous allowance, paid by the president himself. He was neither cold nor warm in his conversation, merely very clinical and curt. His left hand twitches slightly when he talks, a sign of his advanced years from what I estimate, though I did not say as such. I will not be treating him personally. He does not trust foreigners enough to allow them access to him, and he told me as such. I merely nodded politely.

He ended the conversation by signing a credit note for me, my first allowance in advance and instructing me to leave. I bowed and left the room without turning my back on the great man. I had been warned beforehand that he views it as a sign of disrespect, and was liable to shoot me on a whim. The guards searched me again, and I returned to my boarding house. Tomorrow, I shall find the new practice, where I shall be staying.

What have I signed myself up for? I am 25 years old, and here I am, tied to this strange country for the next three years. On the one hand, by the end of the three years I will be so wealthy that I will likely never have to work again. On the other hand, I am living under the sort of dictatorship my own forefathers fought to free themselves from. I only hope that all goes well.

[anonymous4401]

Interesting. Just how was he chosen? Perhaps we'll find out.

[stnylan]

I wonder what possible conflicts of ideologies our doctor will undergo. Will the prospect wealth be enough to smother his conscience? Or will he find himself involved in some other way? I can't wait to find out.

[Cinéad IV]

Jingles and mib - Precisely why I chose Paraguay! Anybody can bring Prussia to greatness, or conquer the world as the US. Paraguay is a challenge.

Coz1 - I'll be alternating between journals, letters, and history books written long after the event. Kind of Bram Stoker's Dracula-ish. And I did feel the wee changes added something to the game.

Sleepyhead and anonymous - Cheers! It's luck that, as it turns out, I'll really be needing.

Stynlan - Aha! You'll have to wait and see....

I can confidently say, however, that he isn't going to resurrect Zombie Pizarro to conquer South America and join the carry on currently taking place in Europe on another thread

[Cinéad IV]

William Robertson, The Dictatorships of South America (Cambridge, 1987)

In his time, Jose Gaspar Rodriguez de Francia was despised by his contemporaries, and especially by his own people. As Supreme and Perpetual Dictator of Paraguay, he inflicted a reign of terror on Paraguayans which few totalitarian states up until our own time ever could have equalled. The state was everywhere, at all times. Foreign intercourse was virtually unheard of: Paraguay only maintained embassies in Brazil and Argentina, and very few foreigners were allowed into the country. Paraguay was effectively a massive, isolated country estate, ruled with an iron fist by a man who knew no compassion for those who contradictated him, who never married and who knew no human affection for any individual.

And yet, without him, Paraguay would still be a Third World, backward country. It was Francia who instituted the first moves towards industrialisation, at a time when the rest of South America was agrarian and dominated by vested interests. It was Francia who instituted the first welfare system in the world, setting up Paraguay for future greatness based on the minimum standards citizens could expect. But most importantly of all, it was Francia who maintained Paraguay's independence at a time when Brazil and Argentina could have easily swallowed it up between them, "cracking Paraguay", as one observer noted, "as a flea between two fingernails". Undoubtedly, Francia was a tyrant and, in his later years, mentally unstable. However, in abdicating their rights to this withered old Leviathan, ordinary Paraguayans made a half decent choice. Francia, unlike his contemporaries, was incredibly honest. There was no corruption under his regime - he even returned his unspent salary to the Paraguayan treasury, and left it far better off when he died than it was when he found it. He encouraged the rise of the Paraguayan middle class at the expense of the old aristocracy, who he recognised were serving only to hold his country back. His reforms were responsible for a boom in the Paraguayan population: a quarter of a million people in 1836 had become a third of a million by 1840, when he died. All this was achieved with no foreign loans, no major civil strife, and no interference from Argentina and Brazil. At his death in 1840, he presided over a population which as 30% literate and rapidly advancing in terms of technology. Paraguay was the first nation in South America to make practical use of the steam engine, itself only recently imported from Europe. As the rest of South America's scorpion republics armed themselves and squabbled, Paraguay remained a veritable idyll of civil peace.



Asuncion in the mid 19th century


Francia's regime had massive faults, and there can be no denying them. The rights of the individual were trampled ruthlessly in his drive for efficiency and ideological purity. His madness knew no bounds - peasants were forced to carry a hat in the off chance that he would pass them, in which case they would have something to take off in order to salute the great man. When he died, ordinary Paragauayns would not believe it, even after three weeks, for fear that it was a trap he had set to find out who rejoiced. Hushed crowds went about their business, whispering about "Il Difunto" (the dead man), terrified in case his spies were watching. Francia's grave, according to his will, was unmarked, save for a thorn bush which would ultimately obliterate all trace of it. The only mourner at his funeral was his natural daughter, who promptly left the country with the meagre allowance he left her.

Nonetheless, Francia must be accorded some of the credit as not only one of the most effective, but one of the most honest dictators any South American country could ever wish for. Though harsh, he laid the seeds for future Paraguayan greatness.

[coz1]

I get the feeling our doctor will be there more than the planned on three years, especially as we hear of the death of the ruthless dictator - who actually doesn't sound so bad in retrospect. He could have been worse, certainly.

[stnylan]

Not your ordinary sort of despot. A thorn-bush seems appropriate.

[anonymous4401]

Nothing like a silly dictator that ends up being good for his people to bring up conflicted feelings!

[Cinéad IV]

coz - The good doctor won't be with us for much longer. Probably a good thing in his case.

stnylan - I like to think it's a not inaccurate portrait I've painted. He really was that.... eccentric.

anonymous - Even today, Paraguayans don't quite know what to think of Francia. Just the same as in the story.

Unfortunately, there probably won't be any screenshots in the near future because the computer I'm playing on has a) no internet b) no means of converting bmps into jpegs (that I've found anyway) and c) no CD re-writer. Hence, the screenshots I saved are apparently too big to save on floppy disks, though that's the only way to move them from one computer or another.

I will, however, keep you well supplied with other pictures to try and illustrate my activities