MENDOZA
If I were called upon to make my personal choice in which part of the
Republic I would like to live, I would choose Mendoza--or at any rate
some part of Mendoza province. It lies far west, within the shadow of
the snow-crowned Andes. The glacier-fed rivers from the mountains are
making it one of the biggest vineyards in the world. The city is several
thousand feet above sea level, and the air is clear and invigorating.
Like most Spanish-Argentine towns, it has a long history, but its tale
of abounding progress does not stretch beyond the last seven or eight
years. There are over a quarter of a million people in the province, and
the capital numbers nearly 70,000 of them.
It is the old story of "Go west, my son." Whenever I fell into praise
about places in the east, or in the middle parts of the country, there
was generally somebody at my elbow to whisper, "Ah, but wait till you
get to Mendoza."
Hardened traveller though I am, I admit a little thrill of anticipation
when, after a hot and rather dusty day in the railway cars, I first
caught a glimpse of the gleaming Cordillera, and then ran long miles
through flourishing vineyards. So right into the heart of the town of
luxuriant avenues, through the main street it seemed, with tall poplar
trees on either side, and beyond the cool road rows of picturesque but
modest houses, white washed, blue washed, pink washed, and even with a
touch of quaintness about the houses that seemed to be neglected. Thus I
made acquaintance with a city of broad boulevards and fine squares, an
extensive park, and announcing its prosperity to all who pass that way
and have eyes to see.
But whilst there is much to be enthusiastic about, it is well not to let
enthusiasm run away with one. There was nothing of the raw west about
the people. The ladies were as well dressed as those you will see in the
Rue de la Paix. Then I was reminded that every woman out here dresses as
well as she knows how, even though she and her family live sparsely at
home. People judge their fellows by appearance, by show, and everyone
feels it a duty to be ostentatious. Next I was impressed with the
extraordinary number of motor-cars. "Yes," remarked my Mendoza-English
friend, "but I think there is only half the number now that there were a
couple of years ago. You had to own a motor-car, or you were not
considered worth knowing. We had nearly three hundred motor-cars, the
best the United States or France could supply, and their value ran into
millions of dollars. People had them with little prospect of paying for
them. But then, everybody is optimistic, expecting a pot of money to be
coming along soon. There is lots of money, but some folks did not get
what they expected, and so a great many of the cars have been seized for
debt."
[Illustration: THE ENTRANCE TO THE PARK AT MENDOZA.]
We were making a little tour in a car. Most of the houses are
single-storied as a provision against earthquakes, which are not
infrequent in these parts. Indeed, one morning during my stay, whilst I
was shaving, there was a quiver and a jolt which I thought was due to
some heavily laden train passing. At breakfast I learnt there had been a
respectable earthquake. Everybody tells you about the great earthquake
of 1861, which completely destroyed old Mendoza. The only remaining
evidences are the ruins of the cathedral. The population of the city at
that time was 20,000, and I was told that half the population was
killed. Then there was the agony of fire, and--with horror piled on
horror, as those were lawless days--bands of miscreants began plundering
and murdering the affrighted inhabitants who remained. Tremors are now
frequent, and the prospect of another earthquake is like an abiding
nightmare. That is why the streets are so wide, the houses nearly all of
a single story, and made of a particularly light brick with a
considerable admixture of cane amongst the clay, so that the structure
has a springiness and does not crack when the shake comes. Really the
only big and substantial buildings are the Legislature and the Palace of
Justice, and they are imposing.
Mendoza continually reminded me of Salt Lake City. Like the capital of
the Mormon faith, it is in the lee of a mighty mountain range; there
are trees bordering most of the streets, and along the main ways are
innumerable rivulets. Boys are constantly employed to souse the road
with water and so keep it cool. The entrance to Western Park has
exquisite bronze gates. It is rather surprising, however, to see they
are mounted with imperial crowns. The explanation is that they were
originally made for Abdul Hamid, the deposed Sultan of Turkey. Owing to
political upheaval in Turkey they were never delivered, because there
was no one prepared to pay for them. Mendoza made a bid and bought them
for £5,000. Broad roads through this lovely domain, leading through
avenues of trees and past radiant flower gardens, make the Western Park
beloved of Mendozians. There is a band-stand; and on Thursday evenings,
the whole place flashing with electric light, the road is blocked with
automobiles and carriages, and thousands of people listening to the
music. There is a rustic chalet where people can sit and have
refreshment. There is a lake nearly a mile long. Here take place boating
races, and for the accommodation of the spectators there is a grand
stand which can hold 3,000 persons. There is a zoological garden. There
is what is called "The Lilliputian Railway," so that a tiny little train
starting from a miniature station can take passengers all over the
extensive park, through tropical vegetation, up tiny valleys, diving
through small tunnels, giving anybody who cannot provide a private
carriage an easy and cheap means of seeing the park.
[Illustration: THE PROMENADE IN MENDOZA PARK.]
Mendoza occupies a prominent place amongst the cities of Argentina. It
is a magnet of attraction, especially to Italians who have experience in
wine making; and now every year the province receives something over
fifteen thousand immigrants. Some freshly developed countries have a law
that no immigrant shall enter under "contract," that no man shall
(without special permission) be allowed to land if he has a job and a
definite wage awaiting him. There is no such regulation in Argentina.
There is an Immigration Law under which fresh arrivals are housed and
fed by the Government, and work found for them. But less than half come
within the operation of the law. About 150,000 fresh arrivals every year
come out to situations, or have sufficient money to look after their own
interests, and naturally many of these strike far west to Mendoza.
As I have intimated in an earlier chapter, the Federal Government has
occasionally a little difficulty owing to the independent spirit of
provinces like Mendoza. Mendoza, for instance, has its own paper money,
so that whilst the Federal dollars are acceptable in the province, the
Mendozian dollars are not currency beyond its own borders. It has all
the modern equipment of government: a House of Senators and a House of
Deputies. Each eight thousand inhabitants are entitled to a deputy, and
each department or county returns one senator. The trouble of some
democratic lands, strikes, are prohibited, and if attempted the soldiers
are called out. The Governor is elected for four years. Voting is
obligatory, and if a man will not vote he is put in prison. The State
has full legal equipment in one supreme court, two courts of appeal, and
two criminal courts. Whilst there is a public prosecutor there is a
State lawyer, whose business it is to defend the poor, and another to
defend minors when they come within reach of the arm of the law. Taxes
are not high. There is a considerable amount of Government land, and
this is sold in order to raise money for public works. Of course, there
is the usual boom in land values. In 1909 the estimated value of
property in the province (vineyards, orchards, cultivated and
uncultivated land, and buildings) was a little over £50,000,000. Up to
July 31st, 1913, property had increased in value to well over
£70,000,000. This is creditable for a population of 260,000.
[Illustration: THE GRAPE HARVEST IN THE SUBURBS OF MENDOZA.]
In no other province in the Republic has there been so much land sold as
in Mendoza. From 1909 to 1912 inclusive transactions in land represented
a turnover of £37,000,000. In the neighbourhood of Mendoza City land is
as dear as close to Buenos Aires, rising to £2 a metre (3.28 feet). In
1909 193,061 hectares (hectare = 2.47 acres) was under cultivation. Now
there are 330,000 hectares. Development is not restricted to the
neighbourhood of the provincial capital. Take San Juan, in the north, an
old town which jogged along with viticulture till ten years ago, when it
made a bound, and progress in growing grapes has been considerable. Some
six hours by rail south-east of Mendoza is San Rafael. Twenty-five years
ago the only flourishing product was the Indian; and you could have
bought quantities of land at twopence a hectare. To-day ordinary
uncultivated land with water rights is worth from £140 to £160 per
hectare. Cultivated vineyards are worth from £600 to £650 per hectare,
according to class. Till 1903 San Rafael had no railway connection with
anywhere. The journey to Mendoza, which is now done in half a dozen
hours by train, then took eight days by cart. Railway building has
facilitated the development of the San Rafael district, which is just at
the doorway of its prosperity. The San Rafael grape has a richer colour
and more sugar than the Mendoza grape. If I had a large sum to invest I
think I would take my chances at San Rafael.
Now, whilst there is all this material progress, it was refreshing to
note that care is given to other things than just money making. I have
described the constant movement to beautify Mendoza. Education is
carefully nurtured. In the province are (1913) two national high-grade
colleges, two normal schools, twenty-five private schools, and one
kindergarten. This kindergarten is, so far as my knowledge goes,
unmatched in the world. It was not the size that impressed me, but the
thought-out plans to provide everything to attract and stimulate the
young intelligence. Beauty is the basis, not only in the schoolrooms but
in the theatre and playgrounds. Whether it be a school, or a
fire-station, or a penitentiary, expenditure is lavish in providing a
handsome building. Of course ambition, rivalry, town conceit--the desire
to show something better than another town can show--is behind much of
the enterprise. But the result is there, and it is the fact that counts.
Primarily, this abounding fortune of Mendoza is due to its vineyards. I
read in an official publication that the province has the finest soil in
the Republic. That is incorrect; but it has a soil that is peculiarly
adapted for vines, together with a climate and a situation which for
viticulture could not be improved--though there is a fly in the
ointment, of which more anon. Besides, the inhabitants have not had to
grope their way in the growing of grapes and the making of wine, as has
been the case in many instances in California and South Australia, good
though some of the wines are, through the cultivators coming from lands
where the grape industry is not natural. It may be fairly said that all
the folk in the province engaged in viticulture are from the
wine-growing regions of Italy and Spain. Further, wine has been made in
this region for several hundreds of years, though in the absence of
transport its consumption was purely local. Now it is drunk throughout
the Republic.
Neither the Californians nor the Australians are a wine-drinking people.
Wine producers have to look to markets beyond the seas. Not so the
Mendozians. The Argentines, being Latin, are a wine-drinking people.
Everybody drinks wine. The labourer on the railway has wine with his
frugal lunch. It is not at all unusual for children to have watered wine
with their meals. On the big emigrant ships wine is included in the
charge for fare and food.
Well, here is a wine-drinking population of 7,000,000 living next door
to the vineyards. Therefore the market for wine is enormous. Great
though the output is, it does not meet the demand. As a consequence
scant justice, from a connoisseur's point of view, is done to the
Argentine wine, for it never has an opportunity to mature. Again, the
wine is cheap; and it would never suit the wealthy Argentines if they
were seen drinking anything but expensive foreign wine. I did taste some
wine with delightful bouquet, such as that of the Château Norton; but,
as it is the crowd which drinks the wine, it cannot be said that the
average quality of native produce is high. With such piled-up orders for
quantity, growers have not bothered very much about quality. They told
me that sometimes they have felt rather ashamed to send out wine sour
with youth; yet the dealers must have it. More than once the railway
companies have been congested with barrels ready to be taken east. There
are millions of acres, as yet untouched, suitable for vines.
When one thinks of the people in South America, and of the prospective
expansion of population, all wine-drinkers, one must conclude that the
future of this land, amongst the foothills of the Andes, is very bright.
In the turn of time some rich Argentines will set the fashion of
drinking the wine of their own country. That will call for the
production of a better vintage, and then, very likely, Argentine wines
will be introduced to the other markets of the world. As it is, fortunes
are being rapidly made. Many of the vineyards are quite small. Two and a
half acres (one hectare) will grow between three and four hundredweight
of grapes, which can be looked after by one man, and ought, in an
ordinary season, to yield an income of about £100. A family with a small
holding of four or five hectares can live most comfortably. In 1913 the
province produced 592,969,670 kilos (kilo = 2.20 lb.). Of this
399,517,099 litres of wine were elaborated (litre = 0.22 gallon).
[Illustration: IN A MENDOZA BODEGA.]
Now I have mentioned there is a fly in the ointment, and I should not be
doing my duty if I failed to call attention to it. The soil is there,
the climate is there, grapes are carefully acclimatised. But there must
be water, and whether there will always be a sufficiency of this is a
doubt which sometimes comes into the minds of men who glance ahead. The
rainfall is not heavy. Various scientific experiments have been made to
attract rain, but without much success. The principal supply is from the
River Mendoza, fed by the melting of the snows in the mountains. At
first the wine growers helped themselves to what water they desired. But
as the industry developed, and as there was suitable land without water,
irrigation canals were introduced. Sometimes a man tapped water to which
he was not entitled, and then there was trouble. As a consequence, the
Government has boldly grappled with the problem of irrigation. I drove
out about a dozen miles to inspect a weir which had been constructed
across the Mendoza River. This holds back an immense quantity of water,
and the supply is regulated by the weir gates. Irrigation channels
zigzag across the country, and the cultivator pays a small sum for his
supply. These works fertilise over a million acres of land. Irrigated
land has bounced in value. Waterless land which could have been obtained
for £1 a hectare now fetches twenty, or even thirty times as much. This
has emboldened the Government into making contracts for several million
dollars for the damming of smaller rivers, and providing further
irrigation works. Still, there is much water which goes down the River
Mendoza that is not used at all. I asked a man who has the right to
speak as an authority how much country could be placed under viticulture
if all the available water supply was nursed and utilised. He told me
three times as much as at present. So, although there is a big
difficulty ahead, it is so far distant that the average man of the
present generation does not bother his head much about it.
There are just 873 bodegas in Mendoza, though 800 of them are
comparatively small. I went over two of the biggest and found them
equipped as well as the bodegas of Europe. Some of the vats hold tens of
thousands of litres of wine. Modern vats are built of cement lined with
glass, and one of them will hold over 100,000 litres. But what was
annoying--it is exercised elsewhere--was the practice of giving a
well-known name to a wine which it does not properly represent. There is
nothing so delicate as the grape in being affected by soil. Similar
vines, but grown on slightly dissimilar soil, produce a different
quality of grape, and give quite a different flavour to the wine. So,
generally speaking, the wine of Argentina has a different tone from that
of France, Italy, or Spain. The vintners endeavour by blending to
produce a European type, a hock, a moselle, a burgundy, a medoc, a
bordeaux, even a champagne--which, though good wines, are not always
good imitations of something else. It would be much better if they
classified and titled their own wines. The European plan of one type of
wine being produced in one particular district is ignored. Therefore you
will find the big bodega producing from grapes grown in one vineyard a
dozen brands which originated in France, Germany, Spain, Italy, and
Portugal.
It might be thought that in Mendoza, where wine is the cheapest beverage
procurable except water, there would be drunkenness. Not at all. Perhaps
the case of the people is like that of the girls in confectionery shops;
there are so many sweets about they never think of making themselves
ill. Now and then, however, there is a relapse. But a Mendozian "drunk"
is not fined and sent to prison. Armed with a pail, he has to give two
or three days to getting water out of the rivulets which run down the
sides of the main streets, and sprinkling the dusty road with it. This
is work usually given to boys. So when you see a disgruntled man engaged
at it you will be quite right in coming to the conclusion he has been
imbibing, and the authorities have put him to this job to disgrace him.
I have dealt rather fully with the wine-making business because it is
the chief source of the Province of Mendoza's prosperity. But it is a
happy country for other kinds of fruit, particularly the peach. Also
there are oranges, figs, quinces, nectarines, and cherries. Several
fruit canning concerns, turning out many thousand tins of fruit a day,
have sprung into existence and are doing well. Abundance of fruit has
been rather a cause of neglect in rearing, so that I do not place the
quality too high. For instance, the oranges are not within measurable
distance of the splendid oranges which New South Wales grows.
Improvement will assuredly come in time. As it is, the fruit season in
Argentina is when it is raw winter in Europe; and, as transport is
quickening, possibilities of an extended market are great. Sometimes I
hear young Englishmen, discontented with home, say they would like to go
to America and start fruit farming. They might inquire into the
prospects of Mendoza.