I must say at once that El Ombú is mostly a true story, although the
events did not occur exactly in the order given. The incidents relating
to the English invasion of June and July, 1807, is told pretty much as
I had it from the old gaucho called Nicandro in the narrative. That
was in the sixties. The undated notes which I made of my talks with
the old man, containing numerous anecdotes of Santos Ugarte and the
whole history of El Ombú, were written, I think, in 1868--the year of
the great dust storm. These ancient notes are now before me, and look
very strange, both as to the writing and the quality of the paper;
also as to the dirtiness of the same, which makes me think that the
old manuscript must have been out in that memorable storm, which, I
remember, ended with rain--the rain coming down as liquid mud.
There were other old men living in that part of the country who, as
boys, had witnessed the march of an English army on Buenos Ayres, and
one of these confirmed the story of the blankets thrown away by the
army, and of the chaff between some of the British soldiers and the
natives.
I confess I had some doubts as to the truth of this blanket story when
I came to read over my old notes; but in referring to the proceedings
of the court-martial on Lieutenant-General Whitelocke, published in
London in 1808, I find that the incident is referred to. On page 57 of
the first volume occurs the following statement, made by General Gower
in his evidence. "The men, particularly of Brigadier-General Lumley's
brigade, were very much exhausted, and Lieutenant-General Whitelocke,
to give them a chance of getting on with tolerable rapidity, ordered
all the blankets of the army to be thrown down."
There is nothing, however, in the evidence about the blankets having
been used to make a firmer bottom for the army to cross a river, nor is
the name of the river mentioned.
Another point in the old gaucho's story may strike the English reader
as very strange and almost incredible; this is, that within a very
few miles of the army of the hated foreign invader, during its march
on the capital, where the greatest excitement prevailed and every
preparation for defence was being made, a large number of men were
amusing themselves at the game of El Pato. To those who are acquainted
with the character of the gaucho there is nothing incredible in such a
fact; for the gaucho is, or was, absolutely devoid of the sentiment of
patriotism, and regarded all rulers, all in authority from the highest
to the lowest, as his chief enemies, and the worst kind of robbers,
since they robbed him not only of his goods but of his liberty.
It mattered not to him whether his country paid tribute to Spain or to
England, whether a man appointed by someone at a distance as Governor
or Viceroy had black or blue eyes. It was seen that when the Spanish
dominion came to an end his hatred was transferred to the ruling
cliques of a so-called Republic. When the gauchos attached themselves
to Rosas, and assisted him to climb into power, they were under the
delusion that he was one of themselves, and would give them that
perfect liberty to live their own lives in their own way, which is
their only desire. They found out their mistake when it was too late.
It was Rosas who abolished the game of El Pato, but before saying more
on that point it would be best to describe the game. I have never
seen an account of it in print, but for a very long period, and down
to probably about 1840, it was the most popular out-door game on the
Argentine pampas. Doubtless it originated there; it was certainly
admirably suited to the habits and disposition of the horsemen of the
plains; and unlike most out-door games it retained its original simple,
rude character to the end.
Pato means duck; and to play the game a duck or fowl, or, as was
usually the case, some larger domestic bird--turkey, gosling, or
muscovy duck--was killed and sewn up in a piece of stout raw hide,
forming a somewhat shapeless ball, twice as big as a football, and
provided with four loops or handles of strong twisted raw hide made of
a convenient size to be grasped by a man's hand. A great point was to
have the ball and handles so strongly made that three or four powerful
men could take hold and tug until they dragged each other to the ground
without anything giving way.
Whenever it was resolved at any place to have a game, and someone
had offered to provide the bird, and the meeting place had been
settled, notice would be sent round among the neighbours; and at the
appointed time all the men and youths living within a circle of several
leagues would appear on the spot, mounted on their best horses. On
the appearance of the man on the ground carrying the duck the others
would give chase; and by-and-by he would be overtaken, and the ball
wrested from his hand; the victor in his turn would be pursued, and
when overtaken there would perhaps be a scuffle or scrimmage, as in
football, only the strugglers would be first on horseback before
dragging each other to the earth. Occasionally when this happened a
couple of hot-headed players, angry at being hurt or worsted, would
draw their weapons against each other in order to find who was in the
right, or to prove which was the better man. But fight or no fight,
someone would get the duck and carry it away to be chased again.
Leagues of ground would be gone over by the players in this way, and
at last some one, luckier or better mounted than his fellows, would
get the duck and successfully run the gauntlet of the people scattered
about on the plain, and make good his escape. He was the victor, and
it was his right to carry the bird home and have it for his dinner.
This was, however, a mere fiction; the man who carried off the duck
made for the nearest house, followed by all the others, and there not
only the duck was cooked, but a vast amount of meat to feed the whole
of the players. While the dinner was in preparation, messengers would
be despatched to neighbouring houses to invite the women; and on their
arrival dancing would be started and kept up all night.
To the gauchos of the great plains, who took to the back of a horse
from childhood, almost as spontaneously as a parasite to the animal on
which it feeds, the pato was the game of games, and in their country
as much as cricket and football and golf together to the inhabitants
of this island. Nor could there have been any better game for men
whose existence, or whose success in life, depended so much on their
horsemanship; and whose chief glory it was to be able to stick on
under difficulties, and, when sticking on was impossible, to fall off
gracefully and like a cat, on their feet. To this game the people of
the pampa were devoted up to a time when it came into the head of a
president of the republic to have no more of it, and with a stroke of
the pen it was abolished for ever.
It would take a strong man in this country to put down any out-door
game to which the people are attached; and he was assuredly a very
strong man who did away with El Pato in that land. If any other man
who has occupied the position of head of the State at any time during
the last ninety years, had attempted such a thing a universal shout of
derision would have been the result, and wherever such an absurd decree
had appeared pasted up on the walls and doors of churches, shops, and
other public places, the gauchos would have been seen filling their
mouths with water to squirt it over the despised paper. But this man
was more than a president; he was that Rosas, called by his enemies
the 'Nero of America.' Though by birth a member of a distinguished
family, he was by predilection a gaucho, and early in life took
to the semi-barbarous life of the plains. Among his fellows Rosas
distinguished himself as a dare-devil, one who was not afraid to throw
himself from the back of his own horse on to that of a wild horse in
the midst of a flying herd into which he had charged. He had all the
gaucho's native ferocity, his fierce hates and prejudices; and it was
in fact his intimate knowledge of the people he lived with, his oneness
in mind with them, that gave him his wonderful influence over them, and
enabled him to carry out his ambitious schemes. But why, when he had
succeeded in making himself all-powerful by means of their help, when
he owed them so much, and the ties uniting him to them were so close,
did he deprive them of their beloved pastime? The reason, which will
sound almost ridiculous after what I have said of the man's character,
was that he considered the game too rough. It is true that it had
(for him) its advantages, since it made the men of the plains hardy,
daring, resourceful fighters on horseback--the kind of men he most
needed for his wars; on the other hand, it caused so much injury to the
players, and resulted in so many bloody fights and fierce feuds between
neighbours that he considered he lost more than he gained by it.
There were not men enough in the country for his wants; even boys of
twelve and fourteen were sometimes torn from the arms of their weeping
mothers to be made soldiers of; he could not afford to have full-grown
strong men injuring and killing each other for their own amusement.
They must, like good citizens, sacrifice their pleasure for their
country's sake. And at length, when his twenty years' reign was over,
when people were again free to follow their own inclinations without
fear of bullet and cold steel--it was generally cold steel in those
days--those who had previously played the game had had roughness enough
in their lives, and now only wanted rest and ease; while the young men
and youths who had not taken part in El Pato nor seen it played, had
never come under its fascination, and had no wish to see it revived.