Jean Fouchard's La méringue, danse nationale d'Haïti is another one of his interesting and infuriating works on Haitian history and culture. In this work, Fouchard focuses on the méringue as a national dance intimately linked to the history and culture of Haiti since the colonial period. Tracing its development from the chica, calenda, and the fusion of sorts that occurred between the chica of African origin (probably of Central African provenance) and the menuet (and contredanse), the early antecedent of the méringue, the carabinier, was likely born by the late 18th century. Surely, the carabinier was around before its earliest written attestation in 1824. Furthermore, Fouchard's deconstruction of the legendary story of the carabinier's creation during the 1805 siege of Santo Domingo is quite persuasive. The campaign was brief and while that particular mistress of the Emperor was likely present for the campaign, other sources point to the popular dance resembling the contredanse already popular in the balls attended by Dessalines in 1805. In other words, Dessalines, an avid dancer and man with many mistresses in various towns across the nation, was indeed fond of the carabinier. But the carabinier appears to have already been in existence before the 1805 campaign and was, based on descriptions of its rhythm and movement, a creolized descendant of the chica with European menuet or contredanse influences. The voluptuous, sensuous chica and its fusion with dances and instruments of European origin mastered by some slaves and free people of color were popular, alongside with the sacred and profane Vodou and other forms of African dance.
Thus establishing the origin of the earliest méringue by the end of the colonial era, Fouchard posits that the meringue developed from the carabinier Fouchard associates the early carabinier with the bal or balanced rhythmic version particularly popular with Henri Christophe's court and the carnaval version that was used by the carnaval bands, for coundialle, and the type of music commonly heard in the streets. Rejecting theories of a significant Spanish influence, at least before the 1920s with the invasion of jazz, Cuban music, and Dominican merengue, Fouchard more reasonably asserts a Haitian origin of the Dominican merengue. Indeed, citing Dominican sources, which trace the origin of their merengue to the 1820s, and appearing as merengue after 1844, Fouchard believes the Haitian carabinier was the basis for the méringue and merengue. Like the later méringue of Haiti, carabinier was also associated with popular songs and satires lampooning politicians, mistresses of powerful politicians, or others. Fouchard cites a few examples of these poking fun at the Haitian president in 1844 as well as others poking fun at various late 19th century or early 20th century presidents. In addition, some carabinier-méringue may have melodies that originally developed from French berceuses that possibly traveled to Cuba and Louisiana with the exodus of Saint Dominguans during the Haitian Revolution. Fouchard mentions a few interesting examples of this that traveled to Cuba with Saint Dominguans then later returned to Haiti.
By the 1840s, Haitian meringue and merengue were taking form. In Haiti, carabinier was still used to describe the dance in the 1860s by Ducas Hyppolite and Spencer St. John. Nonetheless, Fouchard postulates that the introduction of new instruments by the 1840s and the suspicion around the word carabinier after Izidor Gabriel's conspiracy favored the use of the word meringue. The clarinet especially became popular for bands playing meringue music. Indeed, an early example of a Haitian composition using the word meringue is a song composed by Occide Jeanty's father, Occilius, in 1860. As further evidence against the Dominican origin of the Haitian meringue is the Dominican versions's absence in the list of Dominican influences Ducas Hyppolite encountered in 1863 at Mirebalais. If the Dominican version was the origin of the Haitian meringue, why was it not present near the Haitian border in the 1860s? The Spanish influences, particularly from danza or the habanera, appear to actually have been limited to some of the salon pianists like Ludovic Lamothe, and not representative of the majority of popular meringues such as "Nibo" or the music of Candio.
Therefore, the Haitian meringue was simply a modified version of the old carabinier dance already so popular since the end of the colonial period in Haiti. Its name, according to Fouchard, is not of French origin but may have derived from the mouringue dance of the Bara of Madagascar. Sadly, the evidence for this is not as strong as Fouchard wants us to believe, though there were enslaved Africans from Mozambique and Madagascar in Saint Domingue. Nonetheless, it is certainly possible that the name for the dance comes from Africa while its actual development was a local creation in Saint Domingue and early Haiti. The fact that by the mid-1800s a dance called meringue or merengue was found in Haiti, Cuba, the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico cannot be a coincidence. The name may indeed derive from the accepted French source, but became the name for similar dances based on the creolized contredanse that was already present around the Caribbean.
The rest of Fouchard's observations on Haitian music are interesting yet perhaps limited by his nationalist bias. In his desire to construct Haitian music's legitimacy on the foundation of tradition, he sees the jazz, Cuban, and compas as deviations, especially the first two whose consumption spread in Haiti at the same time as the US Occupation and Jean Price-Mars's indigenism. That said, there is a kind of irony to this moment where just as some Haitians were looking to Vodou, folklore and what was considered traditionally Haitian, the youth were drawn to jazz, Cuban styles, and the spread of radio and recorded music favored this. The meringue, of course, stayed relevant throughout Haitian history. Indeed, even our elites with their bovarysme collectif still preserved it as the closer of concerts and dances while the masses never forgot it. Indeed, even the contredanse and carabinier are remembered in the countryside dances. Ultimately, our "national dance" is closely linked to the history of our people, but has not been static. One wishes Fouchard had been able to explore more deeply the various incarnations of the meringue since the mid-19th century until the 1970s, exploring how its popular and elite manifestations diverged and their relationship with other forms of dance in Haiti.
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