Argentine Poetry & Music
From Life in the Argentine Republic in the Days of the Tyrants by Domingo F. Sarmiento, 1868.
From: 1868 C.E. To: 1868 C.E.
Location: Argentina
Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.
From Life in the Argentine Republic in the Days of the Tyrants by Domingo F. Sarmiento, 1868.
Now, I inquire, what impressions must be made upon the inhabitant of the Argentine Republic by the simple act of fixing his eyes upon the horizon, and seeing nothing? for the deeper his gaze sinks into that shifting, hazy, undefined horizon, the further it withdraws from him, the more it fascinates and confuses him, and plunges him in contemplation and doubt. What is the end of that world which he vainly seeks to penetrate? He knows not! What is there beyond what he sees? The wilderness, danger, the savage, death! Here is poetry already; he who moves among such scenes is assailed by fantastic doubts and fears, by dreams which possess his waking hours.
Hence it follows that the disposition and nature of the Argentine people are poetic. How can such feelings fail to exist, when a black storm-cloud rises, no one knows whence, in the midst of a calm, pleasant afternoon, and spreads over the sky before a word can be uttered? The traveller shudders as the crashing thunder announces the tempest, and holds his breath in the fear of bringing upon himself one of the thousand bolts which flash around him. The light is followed by thick darkness; death is on every side; a fearful and irresistible power has instantaneously driven the soul back upon itself, and made it feel its nothingness in the midst of angry nature; made it feel God himself in the terrible magnificence of his works.
What more coloring could the brush of fancy need? Masses of darkness which obscure the sun ; masses of tremulous livid light which shine through the darkness for an instant and bring to view far distant portions of the pampa, across which suddenly dart vivid lightnings, symbols of irresistible power. These images must remain deeply engraved on the soul. When the storm passes by, it leaves the gaucho sad, thoughtful, and serious, and the alternation of light and darkness continues in his imagination, as the disk of the sun long remains upon the retina after we have been looking at it fixedly.
Ask the gaucho, "Whom does the lightning prefer to kill?" and he will lead you into a world of moral and religious fancies, mingled with ill-understood facts of nature, and with superstitious and vulgar traditions. We may add that if it is certain that the electric fluid enters into the economy of human life and is the same as the so-called nervous fluid, the excitement of which rouses the passions and kindles enthusiasm, imaginative exertion ought to be well suited to the temper of a people living under an atmosphere so highly charged with electricity that one's clothes sparkle when rubbed, like a cat's fur stroked the wrong way.
How can he be otherwise than a poet who witnesses these impressive scenes?
"Jira en vano, reconcentra Su inmensidad, i no encuentra La vista en su vivo anhelo Dó fijar su fugaz vuelo, Como el pajaro en la mar. Doquier campo i heredades Del ave i bruto guaridas; Doquier cielo i soledades De Dios solo conocidas, Que él solo puede sondear." Echevarria.
Or he who thus sees Nature in her gala dress?
"De las entrañas de America Dos raudales se desatan; El Parana, faz de perlas, I el Uruguai, faz de nacar. Los dos entre bosques corren entre floridas barrancas, Como dos grandes espejos Entre marcos de esmeraldas. Salúdanlos en su paso La melancólica pava, El picaflor i jilguero, El zorzal i la torcaza. Como ante reyes se inclinan Ante ellos seibos i palmas, I le arrojan flor del aire, Aroma i flor de naranja. Luego en el Guazii se encuentran I reuniendo sus aguas, Mezclando nacar i perlas, Se derraman en el Plata." Dominguez.
But this is cultivated poetry, the poetry of the city. There is another poetry which echoes over the solitary plains the popular, natural, and irregular poetry of the gaucho.
Music, too, is found among our people. It is a national taste recognized by all our neighbors. When an Argentine is first introduced to a Christian family, they at once invite him to the piano, or hand him a guitar, and if he excuses himself on the ground that "He does not know how to play, they express wonder and incredulity, saying, "An Argentine, and not understand music!" This general supposition bears witness to our national habits. It is the fact, that the young city people of the better classes, play the piano, flute, violin, or guitar: the half-breeds devote themselves almost wholly to music, and many skillful composers and players have sprung up among them. Guitars are constantly heard at the shop-doors on summer evenings; and late in the night, one's sleep is pleasantly disturbed by serenades and peripatetic concerts.
The country people have songs peculiar to themselves. The "Ariste," prevalent among the people of the northern districts, is a fugue melody expressive of lamentation, such as Rousseau considers natural to man in his primitive state of barbarism.
The "Vidalita" is a popular song with a chorus, accompanied by the guitar and tabor, in the refrain of which the bystanders join, and the number and volume of the voices increase. I suppose this melody originated with the aborigines, for I once heard it at an Indian festival at Copiapo, held to celebrate Candlemas. As a religious song it must be very old, and the Indians of Chili can hardly have adopted it from the Spaniards of the Argentine Republic.
The "Vidalita" is the popular measure for songs about the topics of the day, or for warlike odes; the gauchos compose the words which they sing, and trust to the associations which the song arouses, to make them understood by the people. Thus, then, amidst the rudeness of the national customs, two arts which embellish civilized life and give vent to many generous passions, are honored and favored, even by the lowest classes, who exercise their uncultured genius in lyrical and poetic composition.
In 1840, Echevarria, then a young man, lived some months in the country, where the fame of his verses upon the pampa had already preceded him; the gauchos surrounded him with respect and affection, and when a new-comer showed symptoms of the scorn he for the little minstrel, someone whispered, "He is a poet," and that word dispelled every prejudice.
It is well known that the guitar is the popular instrument of the Spanish race; it is also common in South America. The majo or troubadour, the type of a large class of Spaniards, is still found there, and in Buenos Ayres especially. He is discoverable in the gaucho of the country, and in the townsman of the same class. The cielito, the dance of the pampas, is animated by the same spirit as the Spanish jaleo, the dance of Andalusia; the dancer makes castanets of his fingers; all his movements disclose the majo; the action of his shoulders, his gestures, all his ways, from that in which he puts on his hat, to his style of spitting through his teeth, all are of the pure Andalusian type.
Sarmiento, Domingo F. Life in the Argentine Republic in the Days of the Tyrants. Hurd and Houghton, 1868.
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