BRAZILIAN SOCIETY AND SCENERY
I have already jotted down a few characteristics that struck me in the
people of Brazil, and these will form a sort of prelude to what I am
now about to say. For a traveller who claims to convey only first-hand
information, the difficulty, of course, is to make any definite
statements when aware that his observations were all too hasty and
brief to warrant generalities.
Brazilian society is very different from that of the Argentine, its
elements being more distinct and more complex, while equally European
in trend, and with the same immutably American base; the strain of
French culture is more attenuated, the impulsive temperament more
apparent, but for steady perseverance and capacity for hard work the
Brazilians cannot be surpassed. In criticising the social conditions
in Brazil, it must be borne in mind that the abolition of slavery
dates only twenty years back. I do not think the slave-owner was
systematically cruel, but slavery does not precisely rest on any
inducement to kindliness. Certain buildings that I came across and the
explanation of their use that was given to me showed plainly enough,
what we already knew, that the blacks were treated like cattle, with
just as much consideration as was dictated by self-interest. Since
man is almost as humane as he is cruel, no doubt the masters had
their benevolent moments, but the institution was, nevertheless,
fully as demoralising for owners as owned. The blacks multiplied,
however,[53] and if the abolition of slavery was not accompanied here
as in the United States by acts of violence, the reason is that, to
the everlasting honour of the white man, the institution had been
universally condemned before emancipation was proclaimed.
It has been said that in Brazil slavery was buried beneath flowers.
The fact is it had become practically impossible when its disappearance
was publicly and officially acknowledged. And as, happily, there
was no race hatred between whites and blacks, these two elements
of the population were able to continue to live peaceably side by
side in a necessary collaboration. They went farther than this, as
a matter of fact, and the races mixed with a freedom that I noticed
everywhere. From the point of view of social concord, this is cause for
rejoicing, while it must be left to time to correct any lowering of the
intellectual standard. Every one knows that the principal feature of a
slave-owning community is the absence of a middle class whose mission
it must be to hold the balance in an oligarchy and prepare the way for
the emancipation of the oppressed.
When the principle of democracy was proclaimed by the "big whites" of
Brazil, they could rely for support only on the leading intellectuals
of sound general education, and on the inorganic masses of the
population formed or deformed morally by slavery, and its attendant
evils, with an incoherent admixture supplied by immigration. This,
necessarily, was the situation that had to be faced on the morrow of
the decree of emancipation. By degrees this state of affairs has been
and is still being improved. The substratum of the community remains,
however, such as I have shown it. I am aware, of course, that in
this immense territory there are vast districts of varying soil and
climate where Indians and blacks are very unequally divided. For the
purposes of this brief summary, I am naturally only taking into account
representative centres of population. In some parts the negroes have
deserted the plantations for the towns to which they were attracted
by the opportunities for employment, and their place has been taken
by Italian colonies who have established themselves as small farmers.
Elsewhere the ex-slaves remained in their cabins and continued their
accustomed tasks with more or less zeal, content if thus enabled to
live as they liked. They appear to work and live in perfect harmony
with their former owners.
As regards the social _élite_, it is less easy to pick out its general
features here than it is in the Argentine, where on every hand there
are visible points of comparison with Europe. We are constantly
obliged to revert to our starting-point, which is a feudal oligarchy,
the centre of culture and refinement, which by a voluntary act is in
process of formation into a single heterogeneous mass without any
jarring of racial relations. For a long time the Empire preserved a
nucleus of aristocracy of which only a vestige remains to-day. There
might now be a danger of submersion beneath an inferior intellectual
element which lacks the powerful bias towards higher education peculiar
to the Brazilian mind. It is necessarily this element which will prove
the salvation of the country. It is on his plantation (_fazenda_),
in the centre of his influence, that we must seek the planter
(_fazendero_). Of a highly refined theoretical feudalism, deeply
imbued with European ways of thinking, and with the generous social
standards that distinguished, at one time, our own eighteenth-century
aristocracy, sublimely unconscious--and destined probably to remain
so--of the first spasmodic movements of forces whose evolution towards
a new order implies confusion at the outset, he is infinitely superior
to the generality of his kind in Europe, who are either the product of
tradition or the outcome of democratic circumstance. He leads the broad
and simple life of the large landowner in a land whose soil offers
every inducement to try fresh experiments. Everywhere within you will
notice evidences of his search for the Beautiful and his thirst for
knowledge. And everywhere without you will see the convincing proofs
of his endless activity. In Paris one of these influential men may
pass unnoticed, so little does he resemble his prototype as invented
by satirists, with his modesty of speech and simplicity of bearing. He
would, however, repay a closer study, and when he comes among us to
obtain fresh force for his strenuous task, I should like to see some of
our young men seize the opportunity to improve themselves by paying him
a visit.
All these social forces have a natural tendency to form themselves
into groups. But the Brazilian planter, like other feudal survivals
in Europe, is exposed to the attack of every modern commercial
and industrial force that is tempted to wield some sort of social
authority. This is now the base of all communities--in Rio, in Saint
Paul, or in any other city of the world. A reception on extremely
Parisian lines given by Senator Azeredo, assisted by Señora Azeredo,
proved once again how strong is the likeness between circles that
believe themselves to be utterly different. A single telegram suffices
to give uniformity to the toilettes of all the women in the world, and
if those to be seen in Señora Azeredo's _salons_ were less extravagant
than some Parisian examples, Rio struck me as being quite as eager
as Paris in its pursuit of beauty's adornments. Shall I mention that
Brazilian women have large black eyes, which seem to ask a thousand
questions, usually pale complexions, sometimes of a golden bronze tint,
that they are vivacious in speech and take a delight in conversational
tourneys?
Señores Pinhero Machada and Guanabara were kind enough to give me
an invitation that enabled me to see a little more of some of their
politicians. Señor Pinhero Machada has a house that is built among the
palm-trees on a height that commands the whole of the bay. I confess
that in this enchanting place I was more tempted to open my eyes than
my ears; still, in spite of the counter-attractions of the lovely
landscape, I managed to study the mysteries of Brazilian politics a
little more closely, and, as I had begun to do at Señor Guanabara's,
to realise that reasons for union are and will remain predominant
providing that the question of personalities does not obtrude.
How shall I fail to speak of the ball given in commemoration of the
Independence of Chile, where I had the pleasure of meeting the flower
of Rio society together with the representatives of all the foreign
Powers? I should only give it a passing mention were it not that the
President of the Republic, who opened the ball in person, had conceived
the idea of inviting me to form one of the official quadrille, with
the thought, of course, of paying a compliment to my country. When the
excellent Prefect of Rio announced this decree of public authority, I
believed a catastrophe was imminent, and did not hesitate to impart
my fears to his charming wife, who declared herself ready to go under
fire by my side. The worst of it was that I had before me the mocking
eyes of the papal nuncio with whom I had just shaken hands, and I could
see that he was far from wishing me success in the perilous career on
which I was about to embark. Timidly, I broke it to my partner that it
was over fifty years since I had danced a quadrille, and she returned
my confidence by acknowledging that her education as regards the art of
dancing had been totally neglected. The great fat man in scarlet, whose
ring was large enough to boil an egg in, found our predicament vastly
amusing. I saw myself about to become the scandal of Christianity.
Uniting our ignorance, my partner and I took up our positions and
arranged to imitate to the best of our ability the movement that
might be suggested by the music to the youthful couple that formed
our _vis-à-vis_. Thereupon, the orchestra, a piano and some other
instrument, began to play, and we saw that the charming young couple
on whom we relied were obviously waiting for us to set the example.
What was to be done? I looked at my neighbours. They could not agree.
One advanced, the other retired. The President of the Republic tried
to encourage the rest of us by getting himself into hopeless muddles.
I soon saw that all we needed to do was to tread on the toes of our
neighbours and then bow our apologies, to begin again immediately the
same manoeuvre. This I accomplished, to the great disappointment of the
scarlet man, who was obliged to give a wry smile at the spectacle of
the grace I managed to display in the service of my country.
I should have liked to see the theatres. Time was lacking. I saw only
a performance of _The Daughter of the Regiment_, given in Italian at
the Lyric Theatre, formerly the principal play-house of Rio under the
Empire. The Imperial box was placed at my disposal and proved to be a
veritable apartment, furnished in the style of Louis Philippe. I was
told it had been kept unchanged.
The Municipal Theatre, practically a copy of our own opera-house, is
one of the finest buildings in the Brazilian capital, its only fault
being that it swallowed up too many of the public millions. On the
ground floor there is a very luxurious restaurant containing a faithful
copy in glazed bricks of the frieze _The Immortals_, brought by M.
and Mme. Dieulafoy from Suez and now in the Louvre. Here the French
colony gave a dinner in my honour. A certain number of statesmen
accepted the invitation of my compatriots, and thus I had the great
pleasure of assuring myself by my own ears of the friendly relations
that exist between French and Brazilians. At one time we had a very
important colony in Rio. For reasons that are not too clear to me, it
has dwindled away of late. I found, however, at the reception held by
the French Chamber of Commerce that if lacking in quantity, the quality
of these French representatives left nothing to be desired. The natural
affinity between the two peoples is so obvious that the multiple
attractions of this great and beautiful country are for French people
enhanced by the joy of a genuine communion of thought and feeling
which links their hopes and aims. To my intense satisfaction, I had a
proof of this at my first contact with the public of Rio, and the same
experience was pleasantly renewed later at Saint Paul; I found that I
could speak with the utmost freedom as a Frenchman to Frenchmen, for
there was not the smallest suggestion of a foreign element in the mind
of my audience to remind me to adapt myself to new susceptibilities. I
know not how adequately to thank my audiences for what in French eyes
appeared the supreme gift of a spontaneous manifestation of French
mentality. The Academy of Medicine were good enough to invite me to
pay them a visit, and I will freely confess that a consciousness of my
unworthiness made me hesitate to face this learned assembly. On this
point they reassured me by declaring that the meeting would be merely
in honour of French culture. I went accordingly, and scarcely had
we exchanged our first greetings when I already felt myself at home
in a French atmosphere. Medical science being out of the question,
the delicate fare offered to me was some reflections on the general
philosophy of science, as developed by the magnificent intellectual
labour of France, and on the powerful lead given to the activities of
civilisation by our country. Could anything be more encouraging than
this disinterested acceptance of the testimony of history, considering
how many there be who would exalt themselves at the expense of France?
A very different atmosphere awaited me at the Bangu factories, where
are admirable spinning and weaving mills; here the raw Brazilian cotton
is transformed into those printed stuffs of vivid colourings in which
the working classes love to drape themselves and thus supply a feast
for our eyes. Here there were fewer abstract terms employed to declare
the esteem so freely accorded to France. But here, as in other parts
of the great Republic, I found the few brief words uttered in private
encounters still more convincing than the noisier demonstrations.
Wherever the work of social evolution is being carried on, wherever
there is seen a fine promise for the future, their it is a joy for the
French to find the name of their country associated with the forward
movement. The splendid industrial development of Bangu among many other
similar centres shows what is being done in Brazil in this direction.
I have seen nothing more striking in Europe. The Brazilians possess in
an equal degree with the Argentinos the capacity of bringing to the
highest possible perfection any work to which they set their hand.
I have already said that in Brazil our laws for the protection of
industrial and agricultural labourers are unknown. Not but what
politicians have studied the matter. But in the imperfectly centralised
organisation of all these floating authorities, it is difficult to see
how such laws, if voted, could be effectually applied. All the more
credit is therefore due to the large employers of Brazilian labour who
have done their best to improve the material condition of their hands
without waiting to be compelled to do so. The working population of
Bangu is scattered about the country in _chalets_ that appear to be
admirably hygienic, and all wear the aspect of the finest of physical
and moral well-being. A large building has been provided for meetings
of all kinds and a theatre in which the hands may amuse themselves
with theatricals and concerts. It is unnecessary to state that we were
received to the strains of the _Marseillaise_ and that the French
Republic was vigorously cheered. I do not go so far as to say that
there were no dark sides here or elsewhere to the picture. I have
not concealed the fact that immigrants complain loudly of the want
of supervision from which they suffer in some regions. It seems fair
to infer from what has already been accomplished that more is being
attempted. It is naturally the farmer on the _fazendas_ who receives
the most attention because he is the deep and almost inexhaustible
source of the national wealth.
It would appear that there are no limits to the productiveness of this
soil, whose fertility has been developed and renewed during so many
centuries by the combined action of sun and rain. Side by side with
the barbarism of slavery there has been a barbarous system applied to
the land, which has resulted in its impoverishment. Now the relation
between production and fertilisation has come prominently forward.
There is still, however, much virgin land that awaits the farmer. The
real problem of a rational system of agriculture to be applied in
Brazil will be left for a future generation. Meantime, their finest
forests are burning and filling the horizon with smoke. This represents
what the Brazilians call "clearing" the land. But the Brazilian forests
deserve a volume, not a paragraph, or chapter--and its writer should
be both learned and a poet. I did not visit the fairylike regions
of the Amazon, but however amazing they may be, I think they could
scarcely surpass the powerful impression made on me by the forests
of Saint Paul. There is a limit to our nervous receptivity, beyond
which point we become insensible to sensation. We in Europe have dwelt
amid a beautiful harmony of the forces of Nature which have moulded
all our impressions in a certain form of beauty; to find fault with
them would be sacrilege, since the highest inspirations of art have
been drawn from this source. Thus, consciously or not, we have lived
in an equilibrium of pleasing emotions, that imposes on us certain
limitations of sensation to be derived from the spectacle that Nature
provides. Therefore, when we are suddenly confronted with an unknown
Nature, whose power and vigour shatter all our preconceived notions,
and alter the whole focus of our organs, the only possible effect at
first is one of complete bewilderment. We must take time to get used to
this new order of sensations before we expose ourselves to another and
get back again to the standpoint of a corresponding sense of æsthetics.
I had to endure several headaches before I could rise to the level of
the genius of Berlioz or Wagner. What if we compared our own landscape
with the music of Gluck or Mozart? Then you may grasp the Wagnerian
fury of the virgin forests which produce a stupefaction that leaves
you incapable of analysis and a prey to a tumult of superlatives. And
all this happens simply because we have been exposed to the shock of a
higher manifestation of the terrestrial forces of the world.
The Botanical Gardens of Rio are famous the world over. The astounding
forms of foliage, the bold growth of ancient tree and young shoot,
the illimitably dense profusion of every form of vegetable life,
recalling what must have been the earliest stage of the life of our
planet, reduced me to a state of speechless surprise. I promised
myself a second visit to its marvels, but never accomplished this, for
spectacles of even greater magic detained me elsewhere.
"Bon Vista," the Emperor's country house in a suburb of Rio, is
surrounded by a fine park which is going to be turned into a public
garden. The _Flumineuses_ make frequent pilgrimages thither, with
their families, to spend a day in the shade of its trees during the
hot season. But, to tell the truth, while they in this way enjoy
Europeanising themselves in artificially made gardens, I took a delight
in drinking in the Americanisation that awaits you in the outposts of
the young Corcovado forest, which seems to be advancing to the attack
of urban civilisation and pursues man even in the very streets of Rio.
This urban forest is one of the charms of the Brazilian capital.
It clasps the city in its powerful embrace and seems determined to
drive back the population into the sea, whence it sprang, creeping
insidiously into every open space, blending with the avenues, spreading
over squares and parks, and everywhere declaring the triumph and
victory of the first force of Nature over the belated but redoubtable
energy of humanity. Trees, creepers, ferns, shrubs--all these forms
seem to be mounting to the heights that crown the bay in order to draw
from the sunshine a renewal of their vigour. The high peak of the
Corcovado (over 2000 feet) that broods over the city, looms large on
the horizon, and one can readily believe that the first thought of the
invader was to climb that height and survey the marvellous panorama
before him. Unlike the Galilean, he needed no tempter to sow in his
mind the desire of possession. But, alas! the task of appropriation is
not accomplished without encountering some obstacles, and the would-be
mountain climber is forced to concentrate his attention on one spot of
the planet that holds him in the grip of an irresistible attraction.
A funicular railway performs this office for him; and with no more
trouble than that of letting yourself be drawn up under the branches,
you suddenly emerge on a height whence you get a magic vision of Rio,
with her bay, her islets, and a mass of mountains heaped one upon the
other, until they are finally swallowed up in the sea. A new world
is here revealed to your gaze--a world in which the whole miracle of
the earth's multiple aspects is epitomised, where the eternal play
of light and shade constitutes an ever-changing picture that creates
a world-drama in inanimate Nature. Are you surprised to meet some
Parisians up here? No, not much. The first result of our industrial
equipment is to diminish the proportions of the globe. It is easier
to-day to go from one continent to another than it used to be to
go from one village to the next. I am personally glad of this, for
nothing could be better for us French people than to travel in foreign
countries, since in this way we get a standard of comparison that we
badly need.
Coming down from the Corcovado, you must stop at "Silvestre," whence
a shady path cut in the mountainside will bring you back to the city,
through a wilderness of wood where a profusion of parasitic growth
covers the boughs, tying them up in a mad confusion of tendrils.
Next after the Corcovado the Tijuca will attract you, and, like the
former, it ends in wondrous points of view. In this case the pleasure
is in getting there. You pass now through lines of tall bamboos,
whose light foliage meets overhead; now you follow the course of a
noisy waterfall that seethes amid the verdure of the forest; anon you
descend into a valley that is shaded by the fresh and delicate foliage
of the banana-trees, or rise to the top of a hill from which all the
indentations of the great bay are plainly visible, and a small gulf
hidden in an avalanche of rocks and boulders lies revealed, where the
mysterious waters sob and vanish on a bed of flowers. Ever onward,
the motor-car pursues its headlong way at a speed one longs to check.
Often we stop to prolong the pleasure of a moment, but if one did not
take care one might stop for ever. The pen is powerless to convey
what, perhaps, the brush might reveal--the joy of life that swells to
bursting the sap of every twig and leaf, every flower and fruit, from
the humblest blade of grass to the loftiest extremity of the tallest
trees, and renders so impressively active every organ of the vegetable
world. I remember pausing before a simple creeper which had produced
some billions of blossoms, and had imprisoned a whole tree in a kind of
tent of blue flames. This example alone will serve to give the measure
of the tropical fecundity. The object of our drive was the "Emperor's
Table" and "China Street." After the view from the Corcovado this
seemed less grandiose, but in any other country of the world it would
arouse a rapture of admiration. We returned to the city by another
route, traversing a part of the mountain where rows of villas embowered
in flowers seemed hung up half-way between sky and sea. You are back
in Rio before you realise that you have left the forest.
It is impossible to speak of Rio without mentioning Petropolis, which
owes its success to the yellow-fever mosquito. The _Flumineuses_ formed
the habit of migrating to this mountain station in order to escape
from the attacks of the plague-carrying mosquito, which is so active
after sunset. A well-founded fear of the scourge drove all those who
could afford it out of Rio, and at their head were the Emperor--later
the President of the Republic, the Ministers, and diplomatists, with
their families. Thus Petropolis, an hour's journey from Rio, became in
some sort a fashionable watering-place, whose charming villas stand
in a forest of tropical gardens. It is a delightful spot for all who
can turn their back on the business of the outside world, which seems,
indeed, far enough away. For this reason the European diplomatists
spend long days here, filled with visiting, excursions (there are
many charming ones to be made from this centre), or the idle gossip
that constitutes that work is lacking; but we know that everywhere
custom is stronger than utility, and custom is very exacting. Now
that the mosquito has deserted Rio the Government has settled in the
capital, leaving the mountain station to the diplomats and their
papers. How can diplomacy exist without a Government round which to
"circumlocutionise"? For the smallest formality one must take the
train. Coming back in the evening is fatiguing. One goes to the hotel
for the night. Your friends take possession of you, and while you
are dawdling in Rio all your correspondence is lying unanswered at
Petropolis. There is, in consequence, a strong feeling now that "the
diplomats ought to settle at Rio," near to the Baron de Rio Branco, who
somehow invariably manages to be at Rio when they are at Petropolis and
_vice versa_, just to upset our worthy "plenipotentiaries." All this is
not done without a certain expenditure of money. Budget commissioners,
beware!
Theresopolis is another mountain station, three hours from Rio. On the
opposite shore of the bay a railway climbs or winds round the lower
slopes, cutting its way through the forest as far as a vast plateau,
whence radiates a number of paths that invite you to wander amongst
the astonishing phenomena of this fiercely abundant vegetation. A
"circus" of bare rocks bristles with pointed peaks, one of which,
bearing some resemblance to the forefinger of a human hand, is known
as "the Finger of God." Whichever way you bend your steps this
formidable and imperious finger lifts itself against the horizon, as
if tracing the path of the planets through the heavens. The beauty
of Theresopolis lies in its madly bounding torrents, which leap the
giant boulders heaped up in its course, ruthlessly destroying the
green growths that make a daily struggle for life. For me this giant
strife provides an incomparable spectacle. I confess that the series
of forest panoramas that open out on either side of the railway, from
Rio Bay to Theresopolis, give a magic charm to the day's excursion.
Tall ferns raised against the sky the transparent lacework of a light
parasol, monstrous bamboos threw into the mêlée their long shoots,
shaped like green javelins; shrubs, both slender and stout, and of
every kind of leafy growth, encroach upon the heavy branches, worn out
with the weight of parasites; the creepers twined like boas round their
supports, flinging back from the crest of the highest trees a wealth
of fine tendrils that, on reaching once again their native earth, will
there take fresh root and draw renewed force for the future fight with
fresh resistances, a single one of the family, with leaves like a
young bamboo, so fine that the stalk is well-nigh invisible, entirely
shrouding a whole tree in its frail yet stubborn network, transforming
it into a green arbour that would put to shame any to be found in our
ancient and classic gardens--all these and many other aspects of the
marvellous forest arouse an unwearying and never-ending admiration,
mingled with wonder at the blows dealt on a battlefield of opposing
forces where the weapons are none the less deadly for being immovable.
There is no forest to be seen on the road from Rio to Saint Paul. Here
man has passed. On all sides are visible the signs of destruction
wrought by systematic fires. Thanks to Señor Paul de Frontin, the
Company's manager, and two friends of whom I shall have occasion to
speak again later--Señores Teixera Soarès and Augusto Ramos--I made
the journey under the best possible conditions. The great point was
to see the country as we passed. Could any better way be imagined
than that of placing the locomotive behind the coach, which was
arranged like a _salon_, its front wall being taken away and replaced
by a simple balcony? With rugs to guard against the freshness of the
breeze, you find yourself comfortably installed in the very centre of
a landscape whence you may see mountains, rivers, valleys, fleeing
before you in the course of a run of five hundred kilometres. For
the whole of the day I was able to drink in the fresh air and strong
lights, as I looked out eagerly to discover new beauties. As a matter
of fact, I saw nothing but mountains and hillsides that had been
wantonly despoiled of their native vegetation. Here and there a small
banana-wood growing in a crevice showed the proximity of the cabins
of negro colonists and their offspring, who displayed in the sunlight
the unashamed bronze nakedness for which none could blush. They were
leading the nonchalant life of the farmer who expects to draw from the
earth the maximum of harvest for the minimum of trouble. Whether under
cultivation or lying waste, at this time of the year the land presented
the same appearance of bare wildness. Sometimes on the top of a hill
there would be seen one of the old plantations surrounded by walls
built to imprison the slaves, or coffee-gardens, now abandoned because
the soil was worn out for want of dressing, or long stretches of pale
green denoting young rice crops, watercourses dashing over rocks and
gliding through brushwood--the last resort of the birds,--vestiges of
calcined forests where the new growth of vegetation eager to reach
the sun was ever cut back and repressed; and everywhere flashes of
red light that resolve themselves into birds, shuddering palpitations
of blue flames that become butterflies, or the bronzed reflections of
phosphorescent light that reveals a dancing cloud of hummingbirds. On
the horizon spots of black smoke, betokening forests that are blazing
in all parts to make way for future harvests--a melancholy spectacle of
a wanton destruction of natural beauties that has not even the excuse
of necessity, since the splendid forests are only attacked to save the
trouble of fertilising the land exhausted by cultivation. I was told
that at the first outbreak of fire the great birds of carrion come up
in flocks to cut off the retreat of the monkeys and serpents that flee
in terror. I did not witness this part of the tragedy, but I was near
enough to see all the horror of the fearful flare. In the crackling of
the burning palms, in the whirling clouds of blinding smoke furrowed
with a sinister glow, boughs and branches lay heaped up on the ground
in immense flaming piles, through which the charred stumps of boles,
brought low by fire, crashed noisily to earth, where their corpses lay
and slowly smouldered to ashes on the morrow's coffee plantation in
accordance with the law of Nature, which builds fresh forms of life out
of the decomposed elements of death.
At nightfall, we entered the station of Saint Paul, where the cheers
of the students, loudly acclaiming the French Republic, made us a
joyous welcome. A few minutes later we found ourselves at a banquet
attended apparently by representatives of every country of the world,
and Brazilians and Frenchmen here united to express their brotherly
aspirations in words of lofty idealism.
The city of Saint Paul (350,000 inhabitants) is so curiously French in
some of its aspects and customs that for a whole week I had not once
the feeling of being abroad. The feature of Saint Paul is that French
is the universal language. Saint Paul's society is supposed to be more
markedly individual than any other community in the Republic, and it
offers this double phenomenon of being strongly imbued with the French
spirit, and, at the same time, of having developed those personal
traits that go to make up its determining characteristics. You may
take it for granted that the Paulist is Paulist to the very marrow of
his bones--Paulist in Brazil as well as in France or any other land;
and then tell me if there was ever a man more French in courtesy, more
nimble in conversation in his aristocratic guise, or more amiable in
common intercourse, than this Paulist business man, at once so prudent
and so daring, who has given to coffee a new valuation. Talk a little
while with Señor Antonio Prado, Prefect of Saint Paul, and one of the
leading citizens, whose mansion, set in the frame of a marvellous park
of tropical vegetation, would be a thing of beauty in any country, and
tell me whether such elegant simplicity of speech could imaginably
express any but a French soul. The same might be said of his nephew,
Señor Arinos de Mello, of whom I have already spoken, a clever man
of letters who divides his life between the virgin forest and the
boulevard, and who might easily be taken for a Parisian but for a soft
Creole accent. Frenchmen basking in Brazilian suns, or Brazilians
drinking deep of Latin springs--what matter by which name we know them,
so that their pulses beat with the same fraternal blood!
The fact that the Paulist character has been strongly developed along
lines of its own and that the autonomy of Brazilian States permits of
the fullest independence of productive energy within the limits of
federal freedom has led some to draw the hasty conclusion that there is
a keen rivalry between the different provinces, and to see separatist
tendencies where there exists nothing but a very legitimate ambition
to forward a free evolution under the protection of confederated
interests.
The States of Saint Paul and Rio stand at the head of the
confederation, both by reason of their intellectual superiority and by
their economic expansion, and the steady increase of their personal
weight in the federation is naturally in proportion to the influence
they have succeeded in acquiring in the exercise of their right to
self-government. As no one seeks to infringe any of their prerogatives,
and as the only criticism one might make would be that certain States
are at present unfit to fulfil all the duties of government, while any
attempt at separatism must tend to weaken each and all, no serious
party, either at Saint Paul or Rio, or, indeed, in any other province,
would even consent to discuss the eventuality of a slackening of the
federal tie. The Paulists are and will ever remain Paulists, but
Brazilian Paulists.
My first visit was paid to the head of the government of Saint Paul,
who extended to me the most generous of hospitality. Señor Albuquerque
Lins, President of the State, received me in the presence of his
Ministers--Señor Olavo Egydio de Souza, Minister of Finance; Señor
Carlos Guimaraès, Minister of the Interior; Señor Washington Luis,
Minister of War; and Señor Jorge Tibiriça, who had just vacated the
Presidential Chair, and was one of the most distinguished statesmen
of Saint Paul. Señor Augusto Ramos and our Vice-Consul, M. Delage,
whose tact, intelligence, and wide understanding of his duties are
above all praise, were also present on the occasion. The President,
who had an exaggerated opinion of the defects of his French, managed
to convey to me in excellently worded phrases his warm sympathy for
France, which, indeed, he proved by his cordial reception of us. I,
in my turn, assured him of the fraternal sentiments of France for
Brazil and Brazilian interests in general, as also for Saint Paul
and Paulist society in particular. And then, as though to prove that
our compliments were not merely those demanded by etiquette, the
conversation turned upon matters in which Saint Paul and France were so
mixed that the Paulist seemed to take as much pleasure in acclaiming
France as did the Frenchman in expressing his admiration for the
stupendous work carried out by the Paulists with such giddy rapidity,
in developing a modern State that founds its hopes for the future on
the miracles accomplished in the past.
It was a joy to me to run about the city at haphazard. You do not ask
from Saint Paul the stage-setting furnished by Rio; yet there is no
lack of the picturesque. The suburbs of Saint Paul, where costly villas
make bright spots of colour in the gorgeously beflowered gardens, can
offer some fine points of view. At the end of an esplanade bordered
with trees the plateau suddenly falls away into a gentle valley which
would seem admirably designed for the site of a park, worthy the
ambitions of Saint Paul if the authorities would but set about it while
the price of land is still moderate. The only public garden at present
owned by the town is a pretty promenade that can scarcely be considered
as more than a pleasant witness to a modest past.
In the course of our walk we came upon the museum, which stands on the
hill, from which the independence of Brazil was proclaimed. It contains
fine zoölogical, botanical, and paleontological collections. I was
shown moths of more than thirty centimetres in breadth of wing, and
hummingbirds considerably smaller than cockchafers. I paused for an
instant before the cases containing relics of prehistoric America, with
utensils, ornaments, and barbaric dresses of the aboriginal Indians who
to-day are sadly travestied in abbreviated breeches and remnants of
hard felt hats.
There was no time to visit the schools, to whose improvement the
Paulist Government attaches high importance. I promised, however, to
call at the Training College, and, indeed, could scarcely have done
less, since this marvellous institution would be a model in any country
of Europe. I can but regret that I am unable to lead the reader through
the building to see it in all its details--its rooms for study, its
gardens, its workshops. The young Headmaster, Señor Ruy de Paula
Souza, who was a pupil at our Auteuil College, does his professors the
greatest credit and does not conceal his ambition to surpass them. A
much too flattering reception was given me, in the course of which I
had the surprise of hearing quotations from some of my own writings
introduced into a speech made by one of the professors. France and
French culture received a hearty ovation. The warmth of the welcome
given me at Saint Paul could only be outdone by Rio. The charm of a
hearty expansion of fraternal feeling was added to the cordiality of
the demonstrations in honour of our country. The pleasure felt when
members of the same family meet after separation, and find their
mutual affection has been generously developed in the course of life's
experience--this was the impression made on me by the greeting of the
students both at the Training College and at the Law Schools, where one
of the young men delivered a speech in excellent French that formed the
best of introductions to the lecture that followed. In the evening the
same young men organised a torchlight procession. I stood at a window
with a French officer on either side of me. A moving speech was made
to me by a student who stood on the balcony of the house opposite.
The procession passed by to the strains of the _Marseillaise_, amid a
tumult of hurrahs, in honour of France.
I mentioned two French officers. There is here now a French Military
Mission, to whom has been entrusted the training of the police
force, whose duty it will be to ensure order in the State of Saint
Paul. Colonel Balagny, who is in command, was away on furlough.
Lieutenant-Colonel Gattelet, who takes his place, is a highly deserving
soldier, who appears to combine strict discipline with the national
urbanity.
I observed with satisfaction that the Mission was very popular at
Saint Paul. When the march of the _Sambre-et-Meuse_ rang out a crowd
assembled to watch the passing of the troops with their French officers
at their head. Intensely proud of this force, the public takes a
delight in cheering them. I was present at a fine review held on the
field of manoeuvres at Varzea de Corma. The soldier of Saint Paul would
figure creditably at Longchamp, for in precision and regularity of
movement he can bear comparison with any. I must add that the Brazilian
officers who second the efforts of the Mission are actuated by a zeal
that merits a large share of the credit of the results.
When I congratulated Colonel Gattelet I felt I ought to inquire whether
he had been obliged to have frequent recourse to punishment in order to
bring the men to the point at which I saw them.
"Punishment!" he said. "I have never had to administer any. I have no
right, for one thing; and if I wanted to punish I should have to ask
the permission of the Minister of War. But I have never had occasion
even to think of such a thing, for all my men are as docile as they are
alert and good-tempered."
I could only admire. It is true we were discussing a select troop, who
enjoy not only special pecuniary advantages but also quarters called by
the vulgar name of barracks, but which, for conveniences, hygiene, and
comfort, far surpass anything that our wretched budgets ever allow us
to offer to the French recruits.
FOOTNOTES:
[53] It was the custom in many plantations to free any negress who
bore six children. The master in such cases had done a good piece of
business.