churches, as they partake of the same general character, excepting only
that some are more splendid than others. No impediment is offered to the
admission of foreigners into these sacred buildings; and they may roam
about _ad libitum_. The obstruction I received in the College church, I
am persuaded, was the unauthorized act of the fellow who offered it. To
avoid singularity, it is best to conform to their mode of devotion. The
eye of curiosity will, now and then, be directed towards a stranger; but
this is to be expected, though some gentlemen express a repugnance to
visit their churches for that reason, and a fear of intruding.
The churches, with the buildings attached, gardens, &c. occupy a great
extent of ground; particularly those of St. Juan and Catalina, which
were erected at a time when religious enthusiasm was at its height.
* * * * *
The THEATRE, as an edifice, has nothing to boast. The exterior looks
like a stable; but the interior is better than the outside promises. It
has been much improved since my arrival. They sadly want a new theatre.
There is a plot of ground near the Plaza just adapted for it: but unless
the government take it in hand, the public spirit of individuals, I
fear, will not; and yet, with a people so theatrically inclined, it is
somewhat surprising. Almost the first inquiry of a foreigner is of the
Theatre: at present, they smile at its insignificance.
The pit is large, extending a considerable length from the stage, with
backs to the seats, and partitions to each, which serve as a rest for
the arms: they are numbered, and let out under the appellation of
"_lunetas_;" every person proceeding to his own seat; thus the crowding
and fighting, for places, so common in our theatres, is avoided. No
females are admitted into the pit.
In the dress circle, some blue silk spread over the panels of the boxes
is all that distinguishes it from the others.
The dress boxes will contain about eight persons each. As they have not
any seats affixed to them, those who engage them send chairs; or the
theatre will supply them, by paying a trifle for their use. The price
of a box, for a night's performance, is three dollars. These boxes, and,
indeed, places for every other part of the house, may be taken for a
certain period called a "_function_," which lasts ten nights. Many
families engage their boxes this way, which makes them come reasonable.
Under the dress circle, and even with the pit, are boxes called
_palcos_, at 2½ dollars per night.
The _cazuela_, or gallery, is similar to the one at Astley's, except
that it is not so large. It is appropriated to females alone. The
keeping females thus crowded together in a theatre, and separated from
their natural protectors, seems an abominable practice. A stranger is
apt to form erroneous opinions of the fair occupants of the cazuela, and
can scarcely believe that the most respectable are to be found there:
but it is so; and husbands, brothers, and friends, wait for them at the
gallery door. This custom, it is said, they inherit from the Moors. The
_goddesses_ of the cazuela behave in the most orderly manner; much more
so, I suspect, than my countrywomen would, similarly situated.
Over the stage is inscribed the words--"_Es la Comedia Espejo de la
Vida_."
The Governor's box was close to the stage, on what in the London
theatres is denominated the Prince's side of the house; and the
_cabildo_, or box of the chief magistracy, was in front. But now the
Governor's box is removed to what was the _cabildo_, and the English
consul occupies the one lately the Governor's. The Governor, except on
national days, seldom attends the theatre.
That important personage, the prompter, has his little tub, as usual,
in the middle of the stage, destroying all the illusion of the scene,
and, from necessity, obliging the audience to hear him as well as the
performers. Senor Zappucci, an Italian, intent, one evening, upon
impressing the audience with the drollery of a comic song, fell through
the prompter's hole; and the spectators began to consider whether this
was a part of his song. Fortunately he was not hurt. The superior
arrangement, in this respect, of the English theatres, might afford a
lesson to the most prejudiced foreigners.
The admittance is two reals to all parts of the house: but this does not
include a seat. It is, therefore, necessary to take a whole box, or a
single place in the pit (which costs three reals), in addition to the
admission.
Soldiers, who constitute every where the police of the city, were
formerly stationed both inside and outside of the theatre; but this
is no longer the case; and the eye of the republican citizen is not
offended by their presence at places of public amusement.
No refreshments are sold in the theatre; we never hear the "Choice
fruit, ladies and gentlemen, and a bill of the play!" and the spectators
in the pit are saved the nuisance of having the peelings of oranges and
apples dropped upon them. But then they are not condemned to sit five or
six hours, as in our theatres; three hours and a half is the utmost. The
pit audience generally walk out between the acts, and reassume their
seats without disturbance or difficulty.
Smoking in the theatre is not allowed; but such charms has the segar,
that they watch the opportunity of the absence of the police to smoke in
the lobbies.
The theatre continues open all the year round, with the exception of
Lent; and then music is permitted.
The regular nights of performance are Sundays and Thursdays; though
there are sometimes performances on Tuesdays, saints' days, &c. Sunday
nights are the most crowded, as in all Catholic countries. On rainy
nights there is no performance.
The usual performances at the theatre consist of a play and farce; with
singing, sometimes, between the acts.
"_Othello_" is at times performed--not that of our Shakspeare, but a
translation from the French. Its absurdities and tameness no Englishman
can endure with common patience; he looks in vain for those bursts that
overpower the imagination, and electrify the spectators.
An ingenious English gentleman translated Cumberland's "_Wheel of
Fortune_," and "_The Jew_;" but they are too sentimental to please this
audience. "_Love laughs at Locksmiths_" and "_Matrimony_," from the
original French, are stock pieces; and "_The Scottish Outlaw_," and
"_Charles Edward Stuart_" are very successful.
The performers are about equal to those of our country theatres. Of the
females, Doña Trinidad Guevra takes the lead. She has a good figure, a
tolerably expressive face, and a sweet, plaintive voice. In such parts
as _Letitia Hardy_, and _Maria_, in "_The Citizen_," she excels; and
likewise in the sentimental.
Velarde is their first male performer, and plays tragedy, comedy,
farce--it would be unkind to say, with _Silvester Daggerwood_--and
"makes nothing of them;" for, in comedy, he has talent: his tragedy
is not first-rate. He has the merit of dressing his characters with
some regard to costume. I have seen him personate a British officer,
with a uniform coat nearly a copy of those worn by our Foot-Guard
officers.--The general manner of dress upon the stage, at times,
approaches to the burlesque. An English nobleman is always made to
wear the order of the Garter, and a star, whether in street, forest,
or drawing-room. Señor Rosquellas, in the part of _Lord Leicester_ or
_Essex_ (I know not which) in Rossini's "_Queen Elizabeth_," wears the
dress of a modern French field-marshal: his taste and experience should
reform this.
Señor Culebras (in English, Mr. Snake) is made the butt of the juvenile
part of the audience--the _Claremont_ of this theatre. When he appears
to give out the play, they vociferate his name. Why they thus make sport
of him, I know not, except that he has a peculiarly spare person, and is
a sort of deputy manager, the Mr. Lamp of the company. He is said to be
a sensible man, speaking the Spanish language very correctly. As an
actor, he is both chaste and pleasing.
In low comedy, they have a good actor, named Felipe David, the Liston
of the company; and one Señor Vera, who is a useful performer, as well
as singer, and has abilities of no mean order. His representation of
_Colonel Cox_, in the play of "_Charles Edward Stuart_," founded upon
an incident after the battle of Culloden, forcibly brought to my
recollection Lovegrove's _Rattan_, in the farce of "_The Bee-Hive_."
Our English actresses, when they come on the stage, "prepared for woe,"
have their white pocket-handkerchiefs pinned to their clothes: here they
are held in the hands. Both customs are ridiculous; and the constant
application they make of them in this theatre renders it more so.
The orchestra consists of twenty-eight instrumental performers. The
symphonies between the acts are from Haydn, Mozart, &c. &c. as in the
English theatres. The performances are ushered in by an overture,
generally selected with great taste.
The musical department has greatly improved; and they get through
difficult compositions with considerable spirit: constant practice, and,
above all, the great exertions of Señor Rosquellas has effected this.
This gentleman, a Spaniard by birth, made his first _debût_ before a
Buenos Ayres audience in 1822, as a vocalist. His science has enabled
him to surmount the imperfections of a very indifferent voice, and he is
always heard with pleasure. Mr. Rosquellas[5] may be called the founder
of the Buenos Ayres Opera; for, until he came, the orchestra was very
indifferent. Mr. Rosquellas speaks English, and is married to an English
lady. He has been in London, and, I believe, sung with Braham there.
He was ably seconded by Señor Vacani, also from Rio Janeiro, the best
_buffo_ I have seen (Naldi, perhaps, excepted). We had the music of
Rossini night after night to delighted audiences: the duet of "_Al'
idea di quell metallo_," from "_The Barber of Seville_," is as great
a favourite here as in Europe.
[5] As Mr. R. is an important personage in Buenos Ayres, I cannot
forbear relating an anecdote of him:--In an excursion to Rio Janeiro,
he took away with him a slave girl, reporting (or scandal had done
so for him) that she was a present from the governor's lady, as a
trifling reward for the pleasure his musical talents had afforded her.
This coming to the ears of the lady made her highly indignant, saying,
that "she was not in the habit of giving away her slaves." Rosquellas,
upon his return, was sent to prison, and made to account for the
slave, by paying a round sum of money.
The departure of Vacani left a blank in the musical world, which has
been since, in some degree, compensated by the appearance of Doña
Angelina Tani. She has a fine tenor voice; the lower tones are of great
depth, and some of them she elicits with great effect in a trio from
Rossini's "_Elizabeth Queen of England_."
During the Lent of 1824, we had some delightful musical treats,
which rendered the representations of their regular drama very dull,
particularly to a foreigner.
An English mechanic, by name Waldegrave, was tempted to make a trial
upon this stage as a singer. He sung "_The Beautiful Maid_," and "_The
Bewildered Maid_;" but he failed to make any impression. His voice was
good, but he wanted grace.
In English singing, I doubt whether the inimitable Braham would please
them. They smile at the idea of our having a talent for music. The
finest compositions of Arne, Storace, Shield, Braham, &c. might stand
a chance of being suspected to be stolen from foreign composers;
for nothing goes down but Italian or Spanish music. Rosquellas,
from being a Spaniard, and singing their popular songs, such as the
"_Contrabandista_," &c. is just to their taste: for, though no longer
owning the Spanish sway, they still cling to that music which charmed
them in their youth.
With a people so fond of dancing, one would expect to find a regular
corps de ballet at the theatre; but a dance was not to be seen, except,
now and then, dancers from the Rio Janeiro Theatre accepted engagements
for a limited period, until Monsieur and Madame Touissaint, from the
Paris and London Opera, arrived, who meet with great and deserved
encouragement.
The bolero, fandango, and the pleasing castanets, seem peculiar only to
Spain: I had thought to have found them common here. The Touissaints
have introduced the bolero, and dance charmingly.
An Englishman, at a foreign theatre, cannot help being struck with the
stillness and order, which form so great a contrast to what he has been
accustomed to at home. The theatre of Buenos Ayres, in this respect,
might serve as an example to those of more polished nations.[6] But,
notwithstanding Lord Byron's remark, that he would never write a play
for our winter theatres, whilst the one-shilling gallery was suffered to
remain; I prefer their boisterous mirth, and its many inconveniences, to
the monotony of the foreign stage. The magnificence and ingenuity of our
Christmas pantomime, which every body pretends to despise, and yet which
all go to see, with the joyous faces of so many children seated round
the boxes, convulsed with laughter at the drolleries of a Grimaldi, are
not to be paralleled elsewhere. A London theatre is, indeed, a world
within itself.
[6] I once witnessed a most disgraceful scene at the Theatre Français,
at Paris. Talma was performing _Cinna_--the house was crowded, when
some English ladies entered the boxes, escorted by two of their
countrymen, military officers. It was at the time when the British
army occupied Paris. In taking off their shawls, the backs of the
ladies were, for a moment, turned towards the pit; when a yelling
commenced from that quarter, which would have disgraced savages. The
interference of the British officers increased the confusion; the
most insulting gestures were resorted to; and the ladies quitted the
theatre in tears, affording a noble triumph to those brave champions
of etiquette.
Sometimes a straggling English sailor will wander into this theatre; but
not understanding it, he soon leaves it for the grog shop. A sailor is
always a troublesome inmate of a theatre. Two of them were passing their
remarks rather loudly, one evening: the audience laughed; but not so the
police, for they handed the two poor fellows into the street. Jack swore
that he had had many a row at the Liverpool and Portsmouth play-house,
without being molested; and damned such liberty as that at Buenos Ayres.
I got my weather-beaten countrymen away, seeing them inclined to resist;
for unarmed men stand but a poor chance with a police of bayonets and
swords.
Managers and actors quarrel in the new as well as in the old world.
Velarde has had one or two disputes, and left the theatre. The audience
insisted upon his return, and the manager was obliged to yield. The
actor's appearance, after these squabbles, is made a triumph by his
friends; and the ladies in the cazuela throw bouquets, literally
strewing the stage with flowers. These disagreements give rise to formal
appeals to the public, from both parties, in the shape of printed
addresses. In Velarde's dispute, the manager had charged him with
getting drunk. The actor indignantly denied this; but allowed that, on
the 25th of May (the anniversary of their independence), he did get a
little merry, broke glasses, and quarrelled with the landlord, in honour
of the day, as every good patriot should do; and, in answer to a remark
that had been made upon the graces of his person, he stated, that he did
not possess Jacob's ladder, to climb to heaven, and ask God why he was
not made an Adonis.
A certain priest, Castañeda, having, in a publication, attacked the
character of Doña Trinidad, for wearing upon the stage the portrait of
a married gentleman (as he asserted), the lady absented herself from
the theatre for some nights. On her re-appearance, she was greeted with
applause; the audience reasoning, like our's in the affair of Mrs. H.
Johnstone and Braham, that the public have nothing to do with private
character.
Performers, at times, in Buenos Ayres, announce their own benefits--even
the females. A lady will address the audience with all the earnestness
so important an occasion demands, and will go round the house,
delivering bills of the intended performance, couched in high-flown
language, "To the immortal and respectable public of Buenos Ayres," &c.
&c. They know how to "bill the town," as well as any English country
manager. Previous to a benefit night, they have a custom of illuminating
the front of the theatre, and exhibiting a transparency of the proposed
representation;[7] with bonfires, rockets, and a band of music at the
door. This has been ridiculed by one of the newspapers, but it still
continues in a degree.
[7] A performance was advertised for a benefit, founded upon the
battle of Salamanca. In the front of the theatre, on the evening
previous, a transparency was exhibited, representing the discomfited
French pursued by Wellington and his troop: they had, likewise, a
British flag hoisted. All this was too much for Monsieur to bear; and
a scuffle took place, in an attempt to haul the flag down. On the play
night, an O.P. row was expected, but all went off quietly.
The British are not great patrons to the theatre: they assign, as a
cause, the want of attraction; but business, and their inclination
to society among themselves, are perhaps the chief reasons of their
neglect. There are, however, a number of Englishmen, who find relief
from the cares of business, and are constant attendants at the theatre;
some of them, without any fixed object, stroll about, earnestly gazing
at the pretty girls, whom they designate by particular names. I have
been much amused, when they have pointed out to me the different ladies,
under their fixed appellations; as, Imogen, Euphrosyne, Discretion,
Corinna, Zenobia, the Greeks, &c. One gentleman, Don Geronimo Salas,
they have named the King, from his great likeness to George the Fourth
of England. The resemblance is considerable; only that Don Geronimo is
not so corpulent as his Majesty. It is not every day we see men with
persons so corpulent as his Britannic Majesty and Don Geronimo: the
former (national prejudice apart) does indeed look like a king; the
latter is a very handsome man.
It is not uncommon to see infants a few months old, in the arms of their
mothers, and slaves, at the play.
The ladies attend the boxes in their most brilliant attire, combining
neatness with elegance, mostly in white; the neck and bosom partly
exposed, just enough to excite admiration, without alarming the most
fastidious modesty; a gold chain, or other ornament, is now and then
suspended from the neck; the dress, with short sleeves; the hair
tastefully arranged; a simple comb, and a few real or artificial flowers
braided about the hair.
On a full night, the theatre presents a spectacle of lovely women, that
a stranger would hardly expect. I have often contemplated them, with
their dark expressive eyes and raven hair, adding, if possible, more
beauty to countenances already so beautiful.
I think no city in the world, of the same population, can boast more
charming females than Buenos Ayres. Their appearance and brilliancy, at
the theatre, is not exceeded either at Paris or London; and I write from
a tolerable acquaintance with the theatres of both capitals. It is true,
the costly diamonds and waving plumes, that blaze from the persons of
the British and French fair, are not to be seen in Buenos Ayres: those
appendages, however, in my humble opinion, add not to female loveliness.
The theatre was re-opened on the 16th January, 1825, under the
management of Messrs. Rosquellas and others, after having been
closed two months for the purpose of repairs and alterations. Great
improvements have been made: the seats in the pit are covered with
crimson velvet; the whole interior of the house has been cleaned and
painted; the stage thrown more forward, and the orchestra enlarged. A
new drop-scene is exhibited, with the arms of the country and other
devices painted upon it; and, from being better lighted, the theatre
has now a neat appearance.
The operatic department constitutes the chief attraction of the theatre:
in this they have Rosquellas, Vacani (the renowned _buffo_), the younger
Vacani, Vera, the two Señoras Tanis, and Doña Angelina Tani, who sings
as exquisitely as ever. Vacani, upon his re-appearance, after a short
absence, was hailed with shouts of approbation, and bouquets of flowers
thrown upon the stage.
In the dance, we have Touissaint, his wife, and a corps de ballet,
including some Portuguese comic dancers from Rio Janeiro. Regular
ballets of action now take place, in lieu of the pas de deux, and pas
seul, of one or two principal dancers.
Under the old Spanish regime, the season of Lent was the most gloomy
part of the year; it is now the gayest: we have operas and ballets two
and three times a week, to delighted audiences; selections from _The
Barber of Seville_, _Figaro_, _Henry IV._ &c. the orchestra led by
Masoni, the skilful Masoni, whose talent draws forth raptures of
applause.
It is in contemplation to get up regular operas, instead of detached
pieces: _Don Giovanni_ has been mentioned--Rosquellas to be the hero; he
would both look and perform it admirably, at least to those who have not
seen Ambrogetti.
At the theatre door, on performance nights, several handsome carriages
are now to be seen, with lighted lamps and well-dressed servants,
belonging to English and other families. When I arrived, in 1820,
scarcely one was in existence. Were a Spaniard to revisit this place,
after an absence of a few years, he would feel surprised at the
alteration; the rigid fasts of the church laid aside for innocent
enjoyments, the hum of business greeting his ear, and European strangers
every where meeting his eye. Old Spain's ancient dominion of Buenos
Ayres is gone for ever: a few of the old school may yet cling to the
mother country; but the grand mass of the people, especially the younger
branches, are decidedly patriots.
An amateur performance took place, on the 21st February, 1825, for
the benefit of the widows and orphans of those who had fallen in the
revolutionary wars. It was a full house, and profitable--the reverse
of Silvester Daggerwood's. Orders are not admitted to the Buenos
Ayres theatre. The play was _Virginius_; and the different parts were
sustained by gentlemen of the city, in a style so creditable, as to put
to the blush the regular actors.
A North-American Frenchman, named Stanislaus, last from the Havannah,
has given several exhibitions at the theatre upon galvanism,
slight-of-hand, &c. aided by machinery, the best I have seen of the
sort. His performance was more than upon a par with our English
professors. The natives declared, he must have dealings with the devil;
or how could he transport handkerchiefs from the pockets of individuals
in the theatre to the lofty towers of the Cabildo, in the Plaza? and
this, they asserted, he had done. Stanislaus was rewarded with good
houses. His pronunciation of the Spanish language excited bursts of
laughter; it was a mixture of Spanish, French, and English.
A Lecture on Astronomy was attempted; but it did not meet with the
success it merited, either from a want of taste for this instructive
science, or that the audience conceived the theatre an improper place.
The lecturer reading his part, diminished the effect.
* * * * *
An Englishman (Bradley) has a CIRCUS, which is sometimes open on Sunday
afternoons, and on saints' days. Bradley is a decent horseman and clown;
but he has to contend with many disadvantages.
* * * * *
BRITISH RESIDENTS.--Before entering into a detail of the manners and
customs of the native or Spanish part of the population, I shall take
some notice of the various FOREIGNERS who have become residents in this
city. Of these the most numerous are the ENGLISH: I have heard, that the
province of Buenos Ayres contains, of men, women, and children, 3500
British individuals, according to a census taken in 1822.