Logo: a gaucho
couple 
English text: Chapter 14: Costumbrismo
COSTUMBRISMO (Lesson 14) - The Chart
Cultural-historical framework:
Continuing consolidation of national identities,which are sought through
customs and ways of being of the different regions of each nation, especially
the countryside and small towns.
Approximate dates:
Middle and late 19th Century, but always present to some degree.
Historical
landmarks:
Many post-Independence caudillos.
Recovery from the destruction of the Wars of Independence.
"Closing" of the Argentine pampas by barbed wire and the railroads
as the country enters the international export economy (sending wheat and
meat to Europe).
French intervention in Mexico (Maximilian and Carlotta).
Literature:
Costumbrismo: focus on the quaint, picturesque custom.
Regionalism: habits and customs of each region.
Both evolved from Romanticism.
The custom is more important than the individual, or the scene.
Is a bridge between the sentimentalism of Romanticism and the more objective
tendencies which follow (Realism, Naturalism, Modernism)
Ricardo Palma (1833-1919)
José Hernández (1834-1886)
Luis Carlos López (1883-1950)
The Arts:
Painting: primitivism, provincialism.
Renewed respect for folk art: clay figures, pottery, woodcarving, primitive
painting, "ex-votos".
The elites continue to prefer Academic art.
Lesson 14: Costumbrismo
I. Costumbrismo
Latin American literature and culture has always been rich in the local
or regional aspect. Some of the first writings to come out of the New World
were descriptions of things that were new and different in the discoverers'
experience. In later centuries, writers continued to record and chronicle
the special and sometimes quaint ways and customs of the inhabitants of
the continent's different regions. This current has had many variants; for
example, the cattle culture produced its own strong regional literature
in Argentina and elsewhere. The genre known as "Costumbrismo"
is sometimes used to describe these various currents, which reached their
peak in a movement bridging the gap between the unbridled Romantic movement
in Latin America (mid-19th Century) and the less emotional currents of the
latter part of the century (Realism, Naturalism, and Modernism).
Costumbrismo has its roots in the art and descriptions of the European
travelers and explorers of the early Independence period, but it differs
from much of their work in that it focuses on the custom or the local type,
without a great deal of regard for the scenery or the exotic nature of the
surroundings. Generally costumbrismo found subjects in the countryside or
the innumerable small towns of Latin America. Wherever there was an important
cattle culture, there was likely to be costumbrista art and writing focusing
on the Latin American equivalent of the North American cowboy. But the cities
also provided fertile ground, and here we can find costumbrista descriptions
of street persons (beggars, lottery sellers, night watchmen, etc), shopkeepers,
and even priests, such as Fray (Brother) Gómez in the short story
which follows.
Folk art found renewed acceptance in Costumbrismo. Wax and clay figures,
pottery, woodcarvings and even primitive paintings were popular among the
lower and middle classes of this time. The elites, however, continued to
prefer European art, or the academic art still heavily influenced by European
models. One important form of folk art was the "ex-voto", or votive
offering. Sometimes it represented a single scene (along with a short narration)
of a miracle performed by the Virgin Mary or a particular saint. Sometimes
the same format was used to present a prayer or special plea for mercy or
a miraculous cure. The ex-voto also took the form of small metal or clay
figures which had some relationship to the prayer or miracle involved. Thus,
if someone had a broken leg the figure would be a realistic representation
of a leg. A prayer for a successful amorous outcome might take the form
of a small metal heart.
The historical period (middle of the 19th century) was one of continuing
national consolidation and recovery from the devastating fighting of Independence.
The search for a strong cultural basis of national identity also continued,
and Costumbrismo supported this search by generating pride in one's own
region or nation through portrayals of typical ways of being and customs.
II. Ricardo Palma, 1833-1919: Costumbrista of the "Tradiciones"
Among the Costumbristas, Ricardo Palma of Peru distinguished himself
by creating his own sub-genre, the "tradición" ("tradition").
At the risk of great simplification, the "Peruvian Tradition"
created by Palma can be described as a short historical anecdote, frequently
with a surprise ending or a moral which captures a small vignette of life
in colonial Peru. Palma himself described his recipe for the "tradición"
as follows: "The tradición is a romance and is not a romance;
it is history and it is not history. The form has to be light and airy;
the narration, quick and humorous. What I had in mind was to sugar-coat
pills and give them to the people to swallow, without letting any silly
nun's scruples slow me down. Some lying, and even a little more than some,
with an equal dose of truth, as infinitesimal as it might be: a lot of care
and polishing of the language; and there you have the recipe for writing
the tradiciones."
Although his topics ranged from the Peru of El Inca Garcilaso through
to his days of the War of the Pacific with Chile in the late 19th Century,
his favorite era was the eighteenth century of the Vice-regal capital of
Lima. He was especially fascinated with the scandalous era when the viceroy's
concubine, Micaela Luján, exercised great influence. She was the
subject of various "tradiciones", and her nickname (given by the
disapproving upper crust of Lima society) was "La Perrichola",
derived from "perra" (female dog) and "chola" (Indian
half-breed). Palma himself was of mestizo blood, and his "tradiciones"
may also have been a response to his own experiences with the snobbishness
of upper-class Lima.
"Friar Gomez' Scorpion" by Ricardo Palma
When I was a boy I frequently heard old women exclaim, as they talked
about the value and price of a piece of jewelry, that "it was worth
as much as Friar Gomez' scorpion". I have a little girl, good and full
of grace, with mischievous eyes, and I have nicknamed her, in my fatherly
exaggeration, "Friar Gomez' little scorpion". And now I propose
to explain both the old wives' saying as well as my daughter's nickname.
Here is the inscription under his portrait in the monastery: "Venerable
Friar Gomez. Born in Extremadura, Spain, 1560. Took his vows in Chuquisaca
in 1580. Came to Lima in 1587. He was a nurse for forty years, exercising
all of the virtues, blessed with heavenly favors and gifts. His life was
a continuous miracle. He died the 2nd of May, 1631, with the fame of sainthood.
The next year his remains were placed in the chapel of Aranzazú,
and on the 13th of October 1810 they were moved to the main altar, to the
crypt where the fathers of the convent are buried."
...
One morning Friar Gomez was in his cell in the monastery, deep in meditation,
when there was a discreet knock at his door, and a humble voice said, "Deo
gratias ... Praise be to God!" "For ever, amen. Come in, little
brother", replied Friar Gomez. The door of this most modest cell opened
and a ragged old man entered. His clothes were in tatters, but his face
showed the proverbial honesty of the people from Old Castille. The furniture
in Friar Gomez' cell consisted of four rawhide chairs, a dirty table, a
cot without a mattress, sheet or blanket, and with a stone as a pillow.
"Have a seat, brother, and tell me straight out what brings you
here" said Friar Gomez.
"Father, I am an honest man..."
"I can see that, and I hope you continue that way so that you will
deserve the peace of your conscience on this earth, and your blissful reward
in heaven".
"I am a peddler, with a large family, and my business is not doing
well because I have no capital, and not because of any laziness or lack
of effort on my part."
"I am glad to hear that brother, because God rewards he who works
honestly."
'But it seems, father, that up to now God has been a little deaf, and
has not been in a hurry to help me..."
"Do not despair, brother, do not despair."
"Well, but I have knocked on many doors seeking a loan of five
hundred pesos, and all the doors have been closed to me. And last night,
as I was worrying about it, I thought I would come to ask Friar Gomez for
the money, because even though he has no money he will find me a way out
of my troubles."
"And how could you imagine, my son, that in this sad little cell
you would find that kind of money?
"To tell you the truth, father, I don't know how to answer that
question. But I have faith that you will not let me go without consolation."
"Your faith will save you, brother. Wait just a minute."
Friar Gomez let his eyes wander over the bare white-washed walls of
his cell, and his glance fell on a scorpion who was calmly crawling on the
window sill. Friar Gomez tore a page out of an old book, went over to the
window, carefully wrapped the insect in the paper, and turning to the old
Castillian said: "Here, my good man, take this jewel and pawn it. But
do not forget to return it to me in six months." The peddler spilled
over with expressions of gratitude, said good-bye to Friar Gomez, and rushed
over to the store of the usurer.
The piece of jewelry was magnificent, befitting a Moorish princess,
to say the least. It was a pin in the shape of a scorpion. The body was
a splendid emerald in a gold setting, and the head was a large diamond with
two rubies for eyes. The usurer, who was a cunning man, eyed the pin with
greed, and offered the peddler a loan of two thousand pesos for it. But
our Spaniard refused to accept any loan greater than the five hundred pesos
for six months, even though the interest was high. The necessary papers
were drawn up and signed, and the pawnbroker consoled himself with the thought
that the peddler would soon be back for more money, and that in the long
run the larger loan and the high compound interest would mean that he would
never be able to redeem his pin. And then the pawnbroker would be the owner
of a piece of jewelry which would be valuable for its uniqueness as well
as for its beauty.
The peddler took his little capital and prospered in his business so
much that at the end of the six months he was able to redeem his pin. He
wrapped it in the same old paper in which he received it, and returned it
to Friar Gomez. The Friar took the scorpion, placed it on the window frame,
blessed it, and said: "Go, little animal of God, continue on your way."
And the scorpion crawled happily and freely on the walls of the cell.
III. José Hernández, 1834-1886: Gaucho Poet
This writer is typical of those Costumbristas who concentrated on the
cattle culture, although the quality of his verse and the originality of
his work make him stand out. He had lived for many years among the gauchos
of interior Argentina, and he had come to respect and love the lifestyle
of those free souls of the open pampas. He also was a witness to the abuse
of the gauchos (as well as the few remaining Indigenous peoples) by the
centralized government in Buenos Aires as the pampas were being exploited
for their beef and grains in the international market. This commercialization
brought in the railroad, barbed wire, and the commercial rancher, who saw
the gaucho all too often as an obstacle to progress. Hernández fought
against the Rosas dictatorship, but he also opposed Sarmiento because he
believed that Sarmiento's European and US orientation was a threat to the
gaucho's freedom.
Hernández' major work, "Martín Fierro" can be
seen as an epic poem, with some characteristics of Romanticism, since the
hero is at times a tragic Romantic figure. But the special feature of "Martín
Fierro" lies in the way it preserves and transmits the sayings, folk
wisdom, language, and lifestyle of those men of the pampas.
Hernández had little formal education, and one of his purposes
in writing the poem was to give the gaucho something that he would want
to read and thus educate himself. There were many inexpensive popular versions
of Martín Fierro, and every little store in small-town Argentina
made them available to those who wanted to read. It was popular literature
for the masses, not the elites or outward-looking inhabitants of the port
city of Buenos Aires. This translation is by Walter Owen, an Englishman
who lived in Argentina and translated several epic poems (including "La
Araucana") so that his countrymen would learn more about the unique
cultural contribution of that part of the world.
"Martin Fierro" by José Hernández (Translation
adapted from Walter Owen's)
I sit me here to sing my song
To the beat of my old guitar;
For the man whose life is a bitter cup,
With a song may yet his heart lift up,
As the lonely bird on the leafless tree,
That sings 'neath the gloaming star.
May the shining Saints of the heavenly band,
That sing in the heavenly choir,
Come down and help me now to tell
The good and ill that me befell,
And to sing it true to the thrumming strings;
For such is my desire.
Come down ye Saints that have helped me
In many a perilous pass;
For my tongue is tied and my eyes grow dim,
And the man that calls, God answers him,
And brings him home to his own roof-tree,
Out of many a deep morass.
O many singers have I seen,
That have won a singer's wreath
That have talked a lot as they passed the pot,
Of the songs they sang and the songs they wrought
Till their voices rusted in their throats,
As a knife rusts in its sheath.
Now all that a son of the plains may do,
To none shall I give best;
And none may dunt with a windy vaunt,
Or bristle my scalp with a phantom gaunt,
And as song is free to all that will,-
I will sing among the rest.
Tis little I have of bookman's craft,
Yet once let me warm to the swing
And the lilt and beat of the plainsman's song,-
I will sing you strong, I will sing you long,
And the words will out like the tumbling rout
Of waters from a spring.
With my mellow guitar across my knee,
The flies even give me room,
And the talk is stilled, and the laugh and jest,
As I draw the notes from its sounding breast;
The high string, and the middles weep,
And the low strings mourn and boom.
I am the best of my own at home,
And better than best afar;
I have won in song my right of place,
If any gainsay me -face to face,
Let him come and better me, song for song,
Guitar against guitar.
I step not aside from the furrowed track,
Though they loosen their hilts as they come;
Let them speak me soft, I will answer soft,
But the hard may find me a harder oft;
In a fight they have found me as quick as they,
And quicker far than some.
When trouble's afoot-now Christ me save,
And Christ me save from sin,-
I feel my heart grow big and strong,
And my blood rise up like a rolling song,
For life is a battle, it seems to me,
That a man must fight to win.
A son am I of the rolling plain,
A gaucho born and bred;
For me the whole great world is small,
Believe me, my heart can hold it all;
The snake strikes not at my passing foot,
The sun burns not my head.
I was born on the mighty Pampas' breast,
As the fish is born in the sea;
Here was I born and here I live,
And what seemed good to God to give,
When I came to the world; it will please him too.
That I take away with me.
And this is my pride: to live as free
As the bird that cleaves the sky;
I build no nest on this careworn earth,
Where sorrow is long, and short is mirth,
And when I am gone none will grieve for me,
And none care where I lie.
I have kept my feet from trap or trick
In the risky trails of love;
I have roamed as free as the winging bird,
And many a heart my song has stirred,
But my couch is the clover of the plain,
With the shining stars above.
And every one that hears my song,
With this he will agree:
I sought no quarrel, nor drew a knife,
Save in open fight and to guard my life,
And that all the harm I have done to men
Was the harm men wished to me.
Then gather around and hearken well
To a gaucho's doleful story,
In whose veins the blood of the Pampas runs,
Who married a wife and begat him sons,
Yet who nevertheless is held by some
as a bandit grim and gory.
Martín Fierro, VII by José Hernández
So many old friends at the dance
I met again that night,
That we all let go, and I'm sorry to say
That soon your friend was tight.
I never before, for picking a fight
Was feeling so inclined
When a guy arrived in a swell rig-out
With his gal riding up behind.
When she got off, I sidled up,
And I looked at her most polite,
And as she went past I said to her:
"It's a little bit ... chilly tonight."
She took me up, and to choose her words
She didn't stop to bother
For like a flash she answered me:
"The bigger bitch your mother!"
With a tail like a vixen she bounced inside
And rolling her saucer eyes,
And showing a bunch of gleaming teeth
Like a mouthful of fresh-cooked maize. ...
The guy was gathering up his rage,
And was almost ready to bark
I could see his eyes beginning to glow
Like lanterns in the dark.
I saw him beginning to paw the ground,
I knew how to make him bellow;
I said to him: "Keep your temper in;
You look like an ass...tute fellow."
The fellow he gave a jump;
I could see he was seeing red;
"You're the only ass that's loose tonight
You drunken beast," he said.
And on the word he came in blind.
And sure would have done me in,
If I hadn't brought him to a stand
With a whack from the crock of gin.
IV. Luis C. López, (Colombia, 1883-1950): Costumbrista Poet
Although this Colombian Costumbrista poet comes quite late in the period,
we include him because of the way he provides us with a sample of small-town
Costumbrista themes. He gives us a series of authentic vignettes and caricatures
of local types, such as the mayor, the barber, the shopkeepers, and the
lonely spinsters.
"The Barber" by Luis Carlos López
The village barber, who wears straw hats,
dance slippers, jackets of piqué,
and is a passionate card player,
who hears mass on his knees and speaks well of Voltaire.
A tireless reader of El Liberal. He works
happily like a glass of muscatel wine,
stitching together, as he wipes the sharp razor
gossip, all the gossip of the mystical flock.
With the mayor, with the veterinarian,
good people who pray the rosary
and speak of the miracles of San Pedro Claver,
he talks in the canteen, argues in the cock-ring,
his scissors cutting from life's newspaper clippings
happy as a glass of muscatel wine.
"The Mayor" by Luis Carlos López
The mayor, with his dirty straw hat
wrapped with a three-color silk ribbon,
big stomach like a Capeto, loose clothes,
he walks through the town with his bull-dog profile.
A man with hair on his chest, blonde as flax,
he signs with the point of machete. And at
night as takes his local soup
of thin spaghetti and garlic, he loosens his belt...
His wife, a nervously pretty girl,
who has him wrapped up like a clamp,
likes the dog-eared works of Paul de Kock,
she loves beads and paints her eyebrows,
while her consort shows off in the streets
with his belly, his "I saids" and his fierce face.
"Spinster girls" by Luis Carlos López
Spinster provincial girls,
who stitch through the years
reading booklets
and watching closely from balconies and windows...
Provincial girls,
the ones with needle and thimble, who do nothing
but drink at night
their coffee-and-milk and papaya juice...
Provincial girls,
who go out -if they leave home at all-
very early to church
with the walk of domesticated geese...
Provincial girls,
soft, etcetera, who sing
melancholically
from sun to sun: "Susana, come ... Susana"
Poor girls, poor
girls so useless and chaste,
who make the Devil say,
with his arms crossed- "Poor girls!"