The "Camp" (from the Spanish campo, country) outside the city is undeniably ugly and featureless, as it stretches its unending khaki-coloured, treeless flatness to the horizon, but the sense of immense space has something exhilarating about it, and the air is perfectly glorious. In time these vast dun-coloured levels exercise a sort of a fascination over one; to me the "Camp" will always be associated with the raucous cries of the thousands of spurred Argentine plovers, as they wheel over the horsemen with their never-ending scream of "téro, téro."
As in most countries of Spanish origin, the Carnival was kept at Buenos Ayres in the old-fashioned style. In my time, on the last day of the Carnival, Shrove Tuesday, the traditional water-throwing was still allowed in the streets. Everyone going into the streets must be prepared for being drenched with water from head to foot. My new Chief, whom I will call Sir Edward (though he happened to have a totally different name), had just arrived in Buenos Ayres. He was quite unused to South American ways. On Shrove Tuesday I came down to breakfast in an old suit of flannels and a soft shirt and collar, for from my experiences of the previous year I knew what was to be expected in the streets. Sir Edward, a remarkably neat dresser, appeared beautifully arrayed in a new suit, the smartest of bow-ties, and a yellow jean waistcoat. I pointed out to my Chief that it was water-throwing day, and suggested the advisability of his wearing his oldest clothes. Sir Edward gave me to understand that he imagined that few people would venture to throw water over her Britannic Majesty's representative. Off we started on foot for the Chancery of the Legation, which was situated a good mile from our house. I knew what was coming. In the first five minutes we got a bucket of water from the top of a house, plumb all over us, soaking us both to the skin. Sir Edward was speechless with rage for a minute or so, after which I will not attempt to reproduce his language. Men were selling everywhere in the streets the large squirts ("pomitos" in Spanish) which are used on these occasions. I equipped myself with a perfect Woolwich Arsenal of pomitos, but Sir Edward waved them all disdainfully away. Soon two girls darted out of an open doorway, armed with pomitos, and caught us each fairly in the face, after which they giggled and ran into their house, leaving the front door open. Sir Edward fairly danced with rage on the pavement, shouting out the most uncomplimentary opinions as to the Argentine Republic and its inhabitants. The front door having been left open, I was entitled by all the laws of Carnival time to pursue our two fair assailants into their house, and I did so, in spite of Sir Edward's remonstrances. I chased the two girls into the drawing-room, where we experienced some little difficulty in clambering over sofas and tables, and I finally caught them in the dining-room, where a venerable lady, probably their grandmother, was reposing in an armchair. I gave the two girls a thorough good soaking from my pomitos, and bestowed the mildest sprinkling on their aged relative, who was immensely gratified by the attention. "Oh! my dears," she cried in Spanish to the girls, "you both consider me so old. You can see that I am not too old for this young man to enjoy paying me a little compliment."
Autres pays, autres moeurs! Just conceive the feelings of an ordinary British middle-class householder, residing, let us say, at Balham or Wandsworth, at learning that the sanctity of "The Laurels" or "Ferndale" had been invaded by a total stranger; that his daughters had been pursued round the house, and then soaked with water in his own dining-room, and that even his aged mother's revered white hairs had not preserved her from a like indignity. I cannot imagine him accepting it as a humorous everyday incident. Our progress to the Chancery was punctuated by several more interludes of a similar character, and I was really pained on reaching the shelter of our official sanctuary to note how Sir Edward's spotless garments had suffered. Personally, on a broiling February day (corresponding with August in the northern hemisphere) I thought the cool water most refreshing. Our Chancery looked on to the fashionable Calle Florida, and a highly respectable German widow who had lived for thirty years in South America acted as our housekeeper. Sir Edward, considerably ruffled in his temper, sat down to continue a very elaborate memorandum he was drawing up on the new Argentine Customs tariff. The subject was a complicated one, there were masses of figures to deal with, and the work required the closest concentration. Presently our housekeeper, Fran Bauer, entered the room demurely, and made her way to Sir Edward's table,
"Wenn Excellenz so gut sein werden um zu entschuldigen," began Frau Bauer with downcast eyes, and then suddenly with a discreet titter she produced a large pomito from under her apron and, secure in the license of Carnival time, she thrust it into Sir Edward's collar, and proceeded to squirt half a pint of cold water down his back, retiring swiftly with elderly coyness amid an explosion of giggles. I think that I have seldom seen a man in such a furious rage. I will not attempt to reproduce Sir Edward's language, for the printer would have exhausted his entire stock of "blanks" before I had got halfway through. The Minister, when he had eased his mind sufficiently, snapped out, "It is obvious that with all this condemned (that was not quite the word he used) foolery going on, it is impossible to do any serious work to-day. Where ... where ... can one buy the infernal squirts these condemned idiots vise?" "Anywhere in the streets. Shall I buy you some, Sir Edward?" "Yes, get me a lot of them, and the biggest you can find." So we parted.
Returning home after a moist but enjoyable afternoon, I saw a great crowd gathered at the junction of two streets, engaged in a furious water-fight. The central figure was a most disreputable-looking individual with a sodden wisp of linen where his collar should have been; remnants of a tie trailed dankly down, his soaked garments were shapeless, and his head was crowned with a sort of dripping poultice. He was spouting water in all directions like the Crystal Palace fountains in their heyday, with shouts of "Take that, you foolish female; and that, you fat feminine Argentine!" With grief I recognised in this damp reveller her Britannic Majesty's Minister Plenipotentiary.
Upon returning home, we found that our two English servants had been having the time of their lives. They had stood all day on the roof of the house, dashing pails of water over passers-by until they had completely emptied the cistern. There was not one drop of water in the house, and we had to borrow three pailfuls from a complaisant neighbour.
A few years later the police prohibited water-throwing altogether, so this feature of a Buenos Ayres Carnival is now a thing of the past.
As time went on I grew very fond of Sir Edward. His temper may have flared up quickly, but it died down just as rapidly. He was a man with an extraordinarily varied fund of information, and possessed a very original and subtle sense of humour. He was also a great stylist in writing English, and the drafts I wrote for despatches were but seldom fortunate enough to meet with his approval. A split infinitive brought him to the verge of tears. The Argentine authorities were by no means easy to deal with, and Sir Edward handled them in a masterly fashion. His quiet persistence usually achieved its object. It was a real joy to see him dealing with anyone rash enough to attempt to bully or browbeat him. His tongue could sting like a lash on occasions, whilst he preserved an outward air of imperturbable calm. Sir Edward both spoke and wrote the most beautifully finished Spanish.
A ball in a private house at Buenos Ayres had its peculiar features in the "'eighties." In the first place, none of the furniture was removed from the rooms, and so far from taking up carpets, carpets were actually laid down, should the rooms be unprovided with them. This rendered dancing somewhat difficult; in fact a ball resolved itself into a leisurely arm-in-arm promenade to music through the rooms, steering an erratic course between the articles of furniture, "drawing the port," as a Scottish curler would put it. Occasionally a space behind a sofa could be found sufficiently large to attempt a few mild gyrations, but that was all. The golden youth of Buenos Ayres, in the place of the conventional white evening tie, all affected the most deplorable bows of pale pink or pale green satin. A wedding, too, differed from the European routine. The parents of the bride gave a ball. At twelve o'clock dancing, or promenading amidst the furniture, ceased. A portable altar was brought into the room; a priest made his unexpected entry, and the young couple were married at breakneck speed. At the conclusion of the ceremony, all the young men darted at the bride and tore her marriage-veil to shreds. Priest, altar, and the newly-married couple then disappeared; the band struck up again, and dancing, or rather a leisurely progress round the sofas and ottomans, recommenced.
A form of entertainment that appeals immensely to people of Spanish blood is a masked ball. In Buenos Ayres the ladies only were masked, which gave them a distinct advantage over the men. To enjoy a masquerade a good knowledge of Spanish is necessary. All masked women are addressed indiscriminately as "mascarita" and can be "tutoyée'd." Convention permits, too, anything within reasonable limits to be said by a man to "mascaritas," who one and all assume a little high-pitched head-voice to conceal their identities. I fancy that the real attractions masquerades had for most women lay in the opportunity they afforded every "mascarita" of saying with impunity abominably rude things to some other woman whom she detested. I remember one "mascarita," an acquaintance of mine, whose identity I pierced at once, giving another veiled form accurate details not only as to the date when the pearly range of teeth she was exhibiting to the world had come into her possession, but also the exact price she had paid for them.