“We’ve found a better land, in the far south. It is Patagonia. We will live there in peace, without fear of treachery or war, with a Welshman on the throne. Praise be to God.” – English version of chorus sung on the Mimosa as it left Liverpool for Patagonia on 28th May, 1865.
On 28th July, 1865, two months after setting sail from Liverpool, more than 150 Welsh men, women, and children anchored offshore Puerto Madryn (then Porth Madryn). After the long voyage, they were eager to start a new life far from overbearing English rule and the treacherous coal mines of Merthyr Tydfil. They had been told of a virgin and fertile land, where they could speak Welsh freely and practise religion without fear of persecution – an idyllic utopia that many found hard to imagine when they first set eyes on the harsh Patagonian steppe…
A drawing of the Mimosa tea-clipper that carried 153 Welsh men, women, and children from Liverpool to Patagonia (Source: Wikipedia)
Though of minimal global significance, the story of how this small group of Welsh pioneers settled in barren Patagonia is one of the more curious, even romantic, tales of colonisation in the Americas. It was the first time a European community, with ample help from Buenos Aires and local indigenous tribes, managed to tame the land that Charles Darwin had said suffered from a “curse of sterility”. And it remains one of the few examples of a peaceful settlement on foreign lands, without ambitions of conquest or plunder, and still celebrated in both countries 150 years later.
A New Beginning
Emigration from Wales had gathered pace in the early 19th century as standards of living became increasingly bleak for many during the industrial revolution. In rural areas, English landowners dominated the local economy and government, restricting Welsh language and traditions. Communities had been established in the US – the most common destination for European migrants at the time – but the pressure to assimilate in the local culture threatened the preservation of Welsh customs.
The search for a new, secluded spot coincided with the Argentine government’s eagerness to populate the wild southern expanse of Patagonia, where it exerted a sovereign claim but had no physical presence. In late 1862, Lewis Jones, a printer and one of a society to promote a Welsh colony, began negotiations with Argentina’s Interior Minister Guillermo Rawson in Buenos Aires. Rawson rejected outright any proposal that would undermine Argentina’s sovereignty in the region, but promised land (100 acres per family) and supplies for any settler who came.
A map included in the 1862 ‘Manual of the Welsh Colony’ distributed to promote a new settlement in Patagonia (Source: Glaniad)
Jones and Captain Thomas Love Jones-Parry then sailed south to explore the area around the Chubut River they planned to call ‘New Wales’. A few months later they were back in the homeland, embarking on an intense PR campaign to recruit discontent locals to leave everything behind and start afresh 7,000 miles away. The rosy picture of Patagonia painted during this period would later be a source of tension between Jones and some disappointed settlers.
As the Mimosa vessel prepared to leave Liverpool, many remained unconvinced by the expedition to such a remote and potentially hostile territory. Before boarding, passenger Watkin Williams received a letter from his uncle that read: “Of all the wild, mad schemes that have turned up of late, the wildest and maddest is the Patagonia scheme. I may as well hold my tongue. Therefore I can only hope – hoping against hope – that you will all be successful, comfortable, and happy. I also hope that the Indians who will eat you all bodily (will suffer) a confound indigestion.”
Life On The Steppe
According to testimonies from the time, the beginnings of ‘New Wales’ were plagued with hardships brought on by a combination of poor planning, ignorance, and bad luck. Upon arrival, the settlers found that the area around Porth Madryn had almost no access to fresh water, and hundreds of sheep and cows that had been sent with gauchos on a 500km trek from Carmen de Patagones never arrived. It was the middle of the Patagonian winter, and few crops could flourish. Hunger and thirst were constant afflictions, and the settlers soon felt the extreme isolation they had sailed into.
It was also quickly apparent that most of the 153 travellers were ill prepared to set up a new agricultural settlement on this remote, arid landscape. Things started badly from the first day on land when David Williams, a shoemaker from Aberystwyth, went out to explore the surroundings and never returned – he lost his way on the open plains and it was several years before his remains were discovered. In the weeks following, several more settlers would perish and many valuable animals (including nearly 1,000 sheep) would be lost on the plains.
The strongest members of the community pushed on inland and south towards the mouth of the Chubut River (around a 30 mile trek). It is here that the town of ‘Trerawson’ (now Rawson) was officially founded on 15th September, and the Argentine government delivered on its promise to provide land and title deeds for everyone.
One of the first carts constructed in the colony, circa 1866. (Photo: Museo de la Historia de la Colonia Galesa en Gaiman)
Still, the views of the settlers were mixed, as evidenced by a collection of letters sent in November, around 100 days after the landing. “I’ve never been so disappointed,” wrote farmer William Jones to his uncle back in Wales. “The region is nothing like I’d read and heard about before coming… I think we would have been better if we’d have stayed.”
Others, like pastor Lewis Humphreys, recognised the immediate difficulties facing the community but remained optimistic: “My dear Brother, keep the Patagonian spirit up! If God is smiling on us there will be a comfortable home for thousands of Welsh people in a few years.”
Most of the published letters included a note about the need for fresh supplies and a favourable comment about the weather.
The ‘Desert Brothers’
It would take several years for the colony to become self-sufficient, a period in which its survival was only possible due to the persuasive powers of Jones and the semi-regular shipments of supplies he drew from the Argentine government.
The other key ingredient for success – and arguably the most intriguing aspect of this story – was a harmonious relationship with the local Tehuelche tribe. The two communities first crossed paths in April 1866, and in spite of mid-19th century racial profiling, formed a respectful relationship based around the exchange of goods (especially Welsh bread for meat) and skills (baking and hunting). Though prejudices surely existed, there was no concerted attempt by the settlers to convert their ‘desert brothers’ the Tehuelches to Christianity or force them to adopt their customs, a decision probably inspired by the group’s own experience with the English.
Welsh pinoeer Lewis Jones with a group of Tehuelche men, circa 1867. (Photo: University of Wales, Bangor)
This amicable, if sometimes tense, relationship made the Argentine government uneasy at a time when General Julio Argentina Roca was making plans for the so-called Conquest of the Desert. Reportedly at the request of a local cacique, the Welsh community protested against the massacre of indigenous communities across Patagonia, but was either unwilling or unable to prevent it.
Decline And Rebound
As Buenos Aires cemented its control over the whole territory, it revoked the autonomy of the Welsh community and by the end of the century had decreed that Spanish must be the official language, including in schools.
After enduring a traumatic first few decades, this subjugation came as a blow to many settlers, some of whom decided to return to Wales or emigrate to Canada. By then, though, the colony had expanded considerably, with a train connecting Rawson with Puerto Madryn and new settlements established in the far more scenic foothills of the Andes. Though the trickle of new arrivals ended with the start of the First World War, the Patagonian Welsh persisted and eventually flourished against the odds.
Patagonia may not be the enclave of unspoiled Welsh culture envisaged by the pioneers, but some traditions remain in place today and are actively supported by local authorities. Meanwhile, an exchange programme with the local government in Cardiff since 1997 has stimulated the use of the Welsh language among younger generations in Chubut. Enough surely, for those greeted by the loneliest of wildernesses on this day 150 years ago to rest in peace.
