Juan Manuel de Rosas, dictator of Argentina, was a hellion. He wore lace-trimmed drawers, lived almost exclusively on beef, rode like a centaur and decimated the population of his country. He once slit the throats of 1,500 prisoners of war, was defeated and forced to flee the country in 1852 by a former lieutenant, Justo Jose de Urquiza, head of an army of hard riding gauchos.
Manhattan art critics learned a great deal about Generals de Rosas and Urquiza last week when an imposing exhibition opened at the Hispanic Society of America of the Argentine paintings of Cesareo Bernaldo de Quiros.
Senor de Quiros, swarthy, baldish and 50, was born in the frontier province of Entre Rios (bordering on Uruguay), the son of a proud Spanish-born hidalgo. He became an artist over the curses of his father, won the Prix de Rome, was profoundly affected by that spectacular, undigested colorist Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida. He went home to win the plaudits of Buenos Aires and the forgiveness of his father. Bernaldo de Quiros is a painstaking illustrator with an over-theatrical palette.
Artist de Quiros believes that there are no real artists in the U. S. and that he is the only one in South America. He is fond of such mots as “To the sensitive man the American woman represents a moment of passion, the Argentine woman a lifetime of passion.” He is important because he dedicated himself over 15 years ago to recording for posterity one important phase of his country’s history: Gaucho life during the Unitarian-Federalist civil wars of 1850-70.
The titles are confusing because the Unitarians (there was nothing religious about them) were the real Federalists— city dwellers who wished to rule the entire country from Buenos Aires. The Federalists were the bloodthirsty defenders of states’ rights. Their strength came from the Gauchos, Argentina’s half savage cowboys. Red was their color. They wore red woolen caps, wrapped red, diaper-like chiripás over their long, lace-trimmed drawers. They did their fighting with long pronged lances, swords, and loaded whips.
To study them Artist de Quiros went out to live at the ranch of a good friend, the grandson of the Federalist leader General Urquiza. The Gauchos still exist, but their lances and lace-trimmed drawers (calzoncillos bordados} were gone. His host however, had a valuable collection of the old costumes. After winning the confidence of the Gauchos by riding the pampas for months as an encargado or range foreman, Artist de QuirÓs was able to get them to pose. Twenty-five canvases, the fruits of his labors, were on exhibition last week at the Hispanic Society museum under the auspices of tall Archer Milton Huntington, steamship tycoon, son of California’s Collis P. Huntington, translator of the ballads of the Cid. Ablest artistically was a canvas of two monkey-faced Federalist scouts, wrapped in their red ponchos, their lances against their shoulders. Best reconstruction of the costume of a typical Federalist leader was the portrait of bush-bearded Don Juan de Sandoval entitled “The Master.” It shows not only the lace drawers and red chiripás, but the silver studded belt (tirador), the heavy dagger, the loaded whip (arreador) and panama hat (jipijapa) proudly worn by all Gaucho ranch owners 60 years ago. Most interesting as a document was a huge canvas called “Lances and Guitars.” It showed an unexpected meeting of Federalists and Unitarians in a pampas wine shop. Instead of fighting, they challenged each other to a payada de contrapunto or guitar contest. Though guitars were as necessary a part of a Gaucho’s equipment as his lasso (most of them had no saddles), those of the Civil War period had never heard an Argentine tango. The tango milonga was invented and developed in the waterfront slums of Buenos Aires, derives its rhythm not from the jangle of the guitar but from the sensual groan of the accordion.
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