AN AMERICAN COLONY UNDER THE SOUTHERN CROSS
Have you ever heard of the Villa Americana in Brazil?
Quite likely you have not, for I had never heard of it myself until my
visit to that interesting country brought it to my notice. We frequently
hear of German villages, Hungarian settlements and Italian colonies,
but a settlement of North Americans on the other side of the equator is
something new. And yet the colony is not new, for it was established more
than a generation ago; children have grown up and married, who still call
themselves North Americans, and who have never set foot on soil over
which waves the stars and stripes. In travelling over Brazil I frequently
met with American young men and women who informed me that they came from
the Villa Americana. So often did that name reach my ears that I decided
to visit this place, and see for myself what kind of a settlement it was,
and how these voluntarily expatriated fellow countrymen lived in this
land so different from our own. It is a journey of about two hours from
Campinas on the Paulista Railway.
But first let me tell you the history of this colony. At the close of the
civil war many Southern families, whose plantations had been devastated
by the northern armies, felt that they could not live again under the
old flag. Proud spirited and unconquered, these brave southern veterans
who had marched with Stonewall Jackson, and the Lees, and Johnsons,
decided that they would leave the land that had given them birth and seek
fortunes anew in a new land, and amidst new surroundings. Brazil appealed
to the leaders in this movement because the plantation system was
similar to that under which they had been raised, and slavery was legal
in that land, which was still an empire. A few men went as an advance
guard and selected a site about one hundred miles northwest of the city
of São Paulo. A favourable report was made to those still back in the
States, and it was not long until several hundred families had left their
Southern homes, and were making new homes underneath the Southern Cross.
In all it is estimated that at least five hundred American families
located in that section of the state of São Paulo, Brazil, between the
years 1865 and 1870. They came from Texas, Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee,
and perhaps one or two other of the seceding states.
As I stepped off the _rapido_, as the express train is called down
there, the name Villa Americana, which means American Village, on the
neat little station struck a sympathetic chord in my heart. It seemed
good also to see a number of tall, slender men, typical Southern types,
such as one might see at almost any station in Tennessee or Georgia,
standing on the platform awaiting the incoming train. One member of the
colony, who was in the government employ, was with me and performed the
introductions necessary. “How do you do,” “Glad to see you,” “Come around
and see me,” and similar cordial expressions came from every one. And
the best of it is that they were sincere, and not the empty, meaningless
expressions so often heard. It was a pleasure to accept several of these
invitations, as many as my limited time allowed.
[Illustration: VIEW IN VILLA AMERICANA.]
On entering the home of perhaps the most prosperous member of this
colony I felt like standing at “attention,” and giving a salute when I
saw the silk starred and striped banner of Uncle Sam fastened up on the
wall of the “best room.” The house itself, with its large hall, roomy
apartments and broad veranda surrounding the house, looked like one
of the plantation houses so common in the South. This man had a large
family of children, all of whom, with one exception, had been educated
in the schools of the United States, and two boys were at that time in
one of our colleges. About the whole house was an American atmosphere
that warmed the very heart’s blood in a traveller so far away from home.
And so it was in the other houses I visited; in every one was the same
cordiality, the same pleasure at seeing some one from the “States,”
and the same loyalty to everything American. In some of the younger
members one could detect a slight accent in speaking English, which is
always noticeable when children learn a Latin tongue in their babyhood.
The older ones said that these young people speak the Portuguese with
a similar foreign accent. The young ladies of the American colony,
and there are a number of them, were typical American girls, bright,
cheery and free as their sisters are at home, and so different from the
Brazilian young women among whom they live, and who are so hampered by
the customs and traditions of the race. We took a “trolley” ride over the
settlement, but it is rather different from the American trolley, for it
is nothing more than an old-fashioned buckboard.
Many of the original members of the colony became dissatisfied, and
returned to their former homes. There are, however, four or five hundred
Americans still living in this colony, or within a radius of a few miles.
A few have moved to other parts of Brazil, and others have intermarried
with Brazilians; but, in general, they have remained true to their
Americanism. Some of the original families purchased slaves and worked
their plantations in that way, until that institution was abolished in
1888. A few have prospered very much, but many others have done just
fairly well. One of the wealthiest men made his little fortune out of
watermelons. Others have sugar plantations and make brandy, or raise
coffee; and still others do general farming, similar to what they were
accustomed in the Southern States. A Protestant church, called the Union
Church, adorns one hill, and a school-house in a conspicuous building is
in another part of the village.
[Illustration: A BRAZILIAN FRUIT MARKET. MELONS FROM VILLA AMERICANA.]
Some one had told me that the war was a tabooed subject; that the few
older members still left were fighting the battles over. When I met the
oldest member of the colony, who had left the United States in 1865,
the impulse came to test this subject. I mentioned the fact that my
own father had served in the Union army and fought for his country on
that side. This old man, who was past the allotted three score and ten,
and who had fought with that intrepid warrior, Stonewall Jackson, then
told me the whole history of the colony, and the causes that led to its
establishment. “It was a mistake,” he said, “but we did not realize it
then, and afterwards it was too late to sacrifice what we had here and
move back. We still love the old flag.” When I left, he gave me the
Brazilian embrace as a special mark of favour; and I verily believe that
I left a good friend in this old man who had the traits that we all love
in the Southern gentleman.
When Senator Root, then Secretary of State, visited Brazil four years
ago, a new station was named Elihu Root in his honour on the Paulista
Railway, and this name stands out conspicuously on every time-table of
that line. The special train conveying him passed through the Villa
Americana, and he was asked to stop and address the Americans. When the
train stopped many of the older residents met him with tears in their
eyes; and, I was told, the eyes of the distinguished American were not
dry; and he has said that it was the most pathetic incident in his trip.
He was asked whether it would be better for the colony to remain in
Brazil or return to the United States. “Stay where you are,” he said,
“and be good Brazilians. You will find the States so changed that they
would no longer seem like home.”
The Secretary was right. A few months before my own visit one of the
prosperous members of the colony went, with his family, to his old home
in Texas, with the intention of remaining there. He left his property in
the hands of an agent for sale. A few weeks after his arrival in Texas he
cabled to his agent not to sell the property, as he was coming back. In a
few months he and his family returned to the Villa, giving as his reason
that the old neighbourhood had changed so much that it did not seem so
much like home as Brazil.
The members of this colony are now Brazilian subjects, the younger ones
because of their birth in that land, and the older ones by virtue of a
general proclamation. Few of them actually take any part in the politics
of the land. All of them, of course, speak the Portuguese language,
but use the English in their homes. They are still Americans at heart.
My visit to this little American settlement in the very heart of the
great Republic of Brazil will always remain a pleasant memory of a most
delightful trip.