CHARACTERISTICS OF THE COUNTRY
It is well to get a bold, broad idea of the country. It covers 2,000,000
square miles. England is just about one-tenth that size. It is double
the size of Mexico.
In the far north you are in the torrid tropics. In the far south you
need a heavy coat, even in high summer-time. Its conditions may,
therefore, be described as variable. No other country can give you such
change.
The 20,000 miles of railway run through most of the flat fertile areas,
and the ordinary traveller comes away with the idea it is one of the
most level, featureless countries he has ever been in. The old settlers
had the same idea, for their description _pampa_ applied to a boundless
stretch. You can journey for hundreds of miles and never see a tree. But
up in the north, under the shadow of Brazil, are great forests which
will be made useful to the world one of these days. Then you get the
backbone of the continent in the west, the Andes with Aconcagua rising
to 23,000 feet above sea level. In the middle land is the fruitful
Argentine Mesapotamia. In the far south is the last word of desolation,
the Patagonian wilderness.
Argentina has several navigable rivers, and two, the Plate and the
Parana, up which it is possible, for light draft steamers, at any rate,
to go hundreds of miles. If one pretends there is no Amazon in existence
the Plate discharges more water into the ocean than any river from
Hudson's Bay to the Magellan Straits. A learned book informs me that the
volume of water rolled into the ocean is 2,150,000 cubic feet per
second, which seems "prodigious." At Monte Video the width of the river
is sixty-two miles; so it is no trifling creek. The Plate is the
muddiest stream I have ever come across. This is not to be wondered at,
considering that it and its tributaries scour many thousands of miles.
As a matter of fact, the estuary is being filled up. Within knowledge,
the depth opposite Monte Video has lessened by fifteen feet, and though
dredgers are constantly at work, big liners moving up to Buenos Aires
have sometimes to force a way through two feet of mud. It is quite
likely that in the fullness of time Buenos Aires will not be a port, but
an inland town.
Sometimes Argentina has floods which ruin the crops, drown thousands of
cattle, break the railway banks, and reduce strong men, who thought they
were rich, to tears at the prospect of poverty. Or there are droughts
which shrivel everything up. Away back in the 'thirties, Buenos Aires
Province had a drought which lasted for five years. Scientists, who know
all about these things, say that the rainless zones are extending, and
that in the far future the whole Republic will be a rainless zone, and
umbrella sellers will go into the bankruptcy court. The prospect is not
immediate, and if we are wise we shall not worry over a trouble which
may have to be faced five hundred years hence.
[Illustration:
_Photograph by J. W. Boote & Co., Buenos Aires._
OX-CARTS IN THE ARGENTINE.
The long pole in the man's hand is an ox-goad.]
Considering you can get a sweep of level country for 2,000 miles, with
scarcely a hill that would make a decent bunker, when a gale gets on the
rampage it runs away with itself. There is the _zonda_, which so
disturbs the elements that the thermometer jumps fifty degrees in about
as many minutes. Then, although there are those millions of cubic feet
of water emptying itself out of the Plate, there comes the _suestadas_,
which blows so hard that the water cannot get into the ocean, and, as a
result, the upper streams rise and tumble over their banks. Next there
are the _pamperos_ on the plains, which either grill you with their heat
or give you a chill from their rawness. I did not suffer myself; but
these hateful _pamperos_ are so charged with electricity that they give
you a shock which produces a sort of paralysis, "perhaps twisting up a
corner of the mouth, or half closing one eye, or causing a sudden
swelling of the neck," as one authority records.
Parts of the Republic are yet to be explored. Persistent man is having a
rough time in the Chaco region. When our ancestors invented hell they
had no knowledge of the Chaco. It is all swamp and forest, and mammoth
mosquitoes and fever, and pestiferous Indians who do not like the white
man, and put a spear into his back whenever they get the chance. The
Chaco Indians are amongst the few of their race who have not been
subjugated. There are rivers which come trailing from goodness knows
where; but when they reach the Chaco they are evidently so disgusted
that they burrow underground. When it rains, fish several inches long
drop from the clouds. Under a torrent a dip in the ground will become a
pool, and in it will be found fish a foot long. They do not drop from
the clouds. There are no little streams by which they can have arrived.
Where do they come from? The easiest explanation offered is that they
were formerly much smaller, did arrive on a storm cloud, and have been
lying in the mud since the last storm.
I heard yarns, vouched for, but which seem like travellers' tales. There
is a little bird which sits on a branch and twitters. Others come round,
and are apparently mesmerised. Then the little bird attacks one, maybe
much bigger than itself, and kills it without any resistance being
offered. There is another bird which lives on friendly terms with the
Indians, hops in and out of their mud huts, and is known as the "watch
bird," because it always raises a peculiar cry when a stranger
approaches.
In its physical aspects the Chaco is strange, with swamps, arid plains,
and mighty clumps of forest. Here grows the quebracho, which means the
break-axe; so it is a very hard wood. It is to get this wood that
companies have men working in the Chaco, hundreds of miles from even a
vestige of civilisation. Bullocks are employed to drag the trunks, and
the poor beasts have a bad time of it. Then there are light railways to
carry the trunks to the mills. Originally the quebracho was sought
because it made serviceable and long lasting "sleepers" for railroads.
Now it is chiefly wanted for the tannin in it; it is said to contain 50
per cent. of tannin.
Mention has been made of singular birds in the Chaco. But there are
others to be found elsewhere in Argentina. W. H. Hudson, in his
instructive book "The Naturalist in La Plata," describes the ypecaha,
which holds public meetings and has dancing performances. "A number of
ypecahas," he says, "have their assembling places on a small area of
smooth, level ground, just above the water and hemmed in by dense rush
beds. First one bird among the rushes emits a powerful cry, thrice
repeated, and this is a note of invitation quickly responded to by other
birds from all sides as they hurriedly repair to the usual place. In a
few moments they appear to the number of a dozen or twenty, bursting
from the rushes and rushing into the open space and instantly beginning
the performance. There is a screaming concert. The screams they utter
have a certain resemblance to the human voice, exerted to its utmost
pitch and expressive of extreme terror, frenzy and despair. A long,
piercing shriek is succeeded by a lower note as if in the first the
creature had wellnigh exhausted itself. Whilst screaming, the birds rush
from side to side, as if possessed by madness, the wings spread and
vibrating, the long beak wide open and raised vertically. This
exhibition lasts three or four minutes, after which the assembly
peaceably breaks up." Quite like a political meeting at home.
European domestic animals have thrived since their introduction, though
there is a tendency, checked by the constant introduction of breeding
stock, to develop local characteristics. This has been particularly
remarked in sheep which have strayed and have been left to themselves
for several generations. They grow bigger and bonier, and with their
leanness comes the power of rapid movement, so that their flesh is scant
and their wool has an inclination toward growing straight and stiff like
the hair of a goat. In the outlands of Argentina ostriches, jaguars, and
deer may be seen; but you can live for years on the prairies--and that
is where most of the colonisation is going on--and never catch a glimpse
of one of these.
The thing which lays hold of the seeing man, after he has remembered the
ages during which the country, suitable for maintaining innumerable
millions of men and beasts, lay dormant, is the way the land has been
completely transformed in its inhabitants, human and animal, and how
alien vegetation has found a thriving home. The early Spanish
adventurers, as has already been told, had to start their settlement by
bringing animals from Spain, and it was chance, the extraordinary
reproductiveness of herds which strayed or were abandoned, which taught
them they had come into possession of something more valuable than gold
mines. Books of history chiefly deal with the lust and the cruelty of
the early Spaniards. I have nothing to do here with the story of the way
in which Spain conquered the land. We have not to lose sight of the
fact, however, they began settling in these parts nearly four hundred
years ago, when a voyage to the Americas was like a journey to another
planet, when the ships were small and incommodious and dangers were
great, and the world had no experience in the science of colonisation.
The authorities freely gave tracts of land, but in their wisdom they
always stipulated that European domestic animals should be introduced. A
settler got land for wheat and maize and an orchard, and then more land,
just in proportion to how many horses, cows, sheep, pigs, and goats he
would introduce. The land could be obtained for nothing, but always on
condition that it was put to its full use in the maintenance of stock.
That was a rough and ready, and yet very statesmanlike procedure. The
best incentive was given to the agriculturist and breeder. The more
cattle he introduced the more land he put to the plough, the bigger was
the grant given to him by the authorities. Thus possession and
prosperity advanced hand in hand. Here is a lesson which might be learnt
to-day and copied by such countries as Australia, where there are
millions of acres of undeveloped territory.
Time came when the wild herds waxed so numerous that the local councils
proclaimed that all such cattle were the public property of their own
people. To prevent those who lived under another local council taking
possession, the system of branding these cattle, when they could be
caught, was introduced. When the cattle thief came on the scene, and he
was got hold of, he was first branded on the shoulder and for subsequent
offences branded in the hand, flogged and hanged. The straying cattle in
a district belonging to the public, the public soon began to appreciate
that here were cheap meat and cheap hides. They were hunted as the
buffalo were subsequently hunted in North America, and it really seemed
as though they were going to be exterminated. Regulations had to be made
limiting the number of animals to be killed every year. Though there was
still great slaughter, the herds continued to multiply amazingly, and,
of course, wandered hundreds of miles away from any settlements. So the
tide rolled on until two hundred years ago the number of cattle had
increased to many millions. Carlos Gervasini, a Jesuit missionary,
writing from Buenos Aires in 1729, says, "So numerous are the cattle in
the neighbouring _campo_ here that any landlord may take from ten to
twelve thousand to breed from, merely for the trouble of lassoing them
and driving them home. In order to take more than this number a special
licence is required from the governor. The ships returning to Spain are
filled with the hides, and none but good specimens of these are troubled
about. As to the flesh, each man takes what he requires and leaves the
rest to the jaguars and dogs." Some years later a visitor to Argentina
said there were so many cattle that the plains were covered; and had it
not been for the number of dogs which devoured the young the country
would have been devastated by them. There were so many cattle that when
the Spaniards were at war, and invading boats appeared, their custom was
to drive vast herds pell-mell down the river bank and so prevent a
landing.
See the extraordinary whirligig. First no cattle. Then land granted to
settlers who would introduce cattle. Then so many cattle they could be
had by anyone for the asking, and this followed by wholesale slaughter,
the extermination so thorough that a halt had to be called. Then further
amazing multiplication, till the increasing wild dogs played havoc with
the young animals. Then the dogs got so numerous, and their ravages so
extensive, that soldiers were sent out to wage war on the canine pests.
They killed untold thousands, but the people, instead of being grateful,
chaffed the soldiers and dubbed them the "dog killers." The dogs started
to increase again, faster than the cattle, but men refused to go out and
kill the dogs when the only reward was to be nicknamed "dog killer." So
the dogs were left alone, and they kept down the number of cattle. It
was not till fifty years ago that a systematic massacre of the wild dogs
took place, because just then the Argentines were beginning to settle
down to scientific breeding.
It is astonishing how few dogs there are in Argentina. The dog may be
the friend of man in other parts of the world, but not in Argentina.
The Argentine hates the dog. In Buenos Aires the police have order to
arrest every dog, whether it is with anyone or not. During the time I
was in "B.A." I saw only one dog, and that was the property of Sir
Reginald Tower at the British Legation.
That is not all the story. Not only did the wild dogs develop a taste
for young calves, but the native Indians began to show a fondness for
horseflesh. For centuries, although he could have had any number of
cattle and nobody would have objected, the Indian maintained a
preference for horseflesh. Then, suddenly, his fancy extended to cattle.
When he started rounding up the cattle of the Spaniards there was
trouble. Sheep were prolific, but mutton was contemptible food. None was
so poor as to be obliged to eat mutton. The Spaniards regarded mutton
much as Englishmen now regard horseflesh. The only use of a sheep was
for its wool and fat. But the prejudice against mutton, after lasting
for nearly three hundred years, finally disappeared.
Whilst there was an increasing carrying trade from Buenos Aires to Spain
of skins, wool, and tallow--very profitable merchandise--Spain
officially was not enthusiastic over this mean trading. What she wanted
was gold and silver. As these came from Peru and Chili those countries
were favoured whilst Argentina was the Cinderella of the family. What
good was a country that had no mines but only grass to feed horses and
cattle and sheep?
We think differently in these days, but in those far-off times Spain
scarcely condescended to recognise Argentina. It was darling Peru that
was always favoured. All regulations in regard to trade were made
favourable to Peru. Spain accepted what she fancied from Argentina, and
hampered her in seeking other markets.
Nothing, however, could stop the advance of Argentina. It was with
reluctance that Argentina was raised to the first rank as a province,
and was given liberty to export where she liked. Her trade jumped ahead.
Then Argentina not only killed to get hides and wool and fat, but she
had to begin breeding in order to supply the European demand. She began
to dream dreams. There was little immigration; the people were the
descendants of the old settlers. They knew nothing of Spain. They had no
recollection of ancestors who did know anything of Spain. Spain meant
nothing to them but a distant country which once lorded them and
presumed to dictate to them. It was resentment at the relationship,
combined with a desire to fulfil an independent destiny, that brought
about the revolution and the declaration of a republic in 1810.
Since then Argentina has had many internal political troubles. She has
had her set-backs. But the ebb has always been succeeded by a tumbling
flow of fortune. The breed of cattle has been marvellously improved. The
number of animals now runs into hundreds of millions. Vast areas now
wave with wheat and maize. As you journey through Argentina, and see
the land smiling with success, you know that beyond your gaze are
thousands of square miles of soil as virgin as in the days when the
Indians roamed free.
[Illustration: A TYPICAL ARGENTINE PUBLIC PARK.]