The Buenos Ayreans are passionately fond of dancing. Their evening hours are given to this pastime: in their houses, daughters, mothers, nay, grandmothers, will enjoy it with all the spirit of youth. To me it is the most gratifying sight—a proof that age is not always accompanied by moroseness. I have been delighted to see father, mother, daughters, and sons, dancing with that apparent happiness, as if life had no other object but enjoyment.
Walking in the environs of the town, one evening, a family dance attracted my attention; and I looked through the windows. The ladies saw me, and the master of the house came out, entreating me to enter, with the Spanish compliment, “that his house and family were entirely at my service.” He seemed disappointed at my declining the invitation. These evening family dances are very fascinating.
It is said, a Frenchman, from his gaiety, never gets old; the observation applies with equal truth to this people. In our peculiar England, education, climate, and the state of society, render its inhabitants more thoughtful and care-worn: we regard as frivolity what other nations consider the essentials of existence; yet, in general, we are not the gloomy people foreigners would paint us. We can love, and hate, too, with all or more of the fervour ascribed to warmer climes.
Of the dances, some are pretty. The steps of the Spanish dances have a great sameness. The ladies appear graceful; but, indeed, when is it they do not?
The cielito, or little heaven, is opened by the parties chaunting a part of a song all the time in movement, and smacking their fingers together; it then proceeds to the figure.
The contre-danse is involved in intricacies and positions rather difficult to a stranger; twisting the arms, and running in and out, like the game of Thread-my-needle, or, excepting the tumbling part, the comic dance in Mother Goose. The English contre-danse has more life and variety both in music and figure.
Waltzing is a favourite: they have not read the lectures of our moralists upon it, but indulge in the mazes of this luxurious dance.
The minuet dance here is, I think, tame and ungraceful.
The piano forte is the favourite musical instrument; and every well-educated young lady is supposed to possess some knowledge of it. I have heard them perform with great taste and skill. The young and interesting daughter of Don Cornelius Saavedra, Doña Dominga, I thought, excelled; and, with instruction, would be a proficient. This young lady, with a countenance just “budding into beauty,” has talents, which, if properly cultivated, will adorn society. Her father, Don Cornelius, was the first Director of the Province after the Revolution, and one of the old and respectable families. His manners are very pleasing: in person, he much resembles a British general officer. Like many others, he has forsaken the sword for the ploughshare, and resides upon his estate, ninety miles from town, on the banks of the Parana.
A good piano will sell for 1000 dollars: the English, in this likewise, take the lead, and those of Clementi, Stodart, &c. are found in many houses; Miss Saavedra has a fine-toned one of Clementi’s. The French and German pianos do not readily sell.