Alencar’s approach to Nature followed a tradition made popular in Brazil by the German travellers von Spix and von Martius in the 18th century (See: Reise in Brasilien, München, Gedruckt hei M. Lindauer, 1823), who saw Nature as a source of emotion. A generation before Alencar, the French critics Ferdinand Denis, Théodore Taunay and Édouard Corbière brought to the country the ideas of Montaigne, Rousseau and Chateaubriand about the relevance of autochthonous subjects. [1] In that sense, The Guarany produces no philosophical innovation, it is an offspring of the bon sávage model.
Stylistically, in the task of exalting the natural elements, the author frequently invests in broad angles. The opening passage approaches the scene from a bird’s eye perspective, following the river’s trajectory from source to mouth. The image of the mountain also appears in that scene, being used by Alencar to reinforce the idea of ‘wideness’. The rocky plateau is not chosen by chance to hold the house. From the authorial point of view, the vision of a horizon ‘looking proudly over the vast region that opened around him’ (p.4) allows an assessment of the natural beauty of the scene from a privileged viewpoint. Ultimately, this approach is a way of talking about freedom and independence. It also goes well with the 19th century romantic idea that any praise given to the native land reaffirmed the greatness of the nation. Since the merit of a people depended on the ability of the artist to paint the ‘local colour’, it was necessary to imbue the richest images into the description of the landscape.[2]
Seeking a style that could live up to his epic aspirations, Alencar invests in the discourse of the ‘sublime’ and in figures of language, especially hyperbole, to magnify the natural elements. In this specific point, his poetical language can be approximated to that of Ann Radcliffe. In order to give expression to his stylistic capacities, Alencar employs techniques he learned from his readings of gothic novels.[3] He approaches narrative by alternating sensations to excite the reader (using this tension to create climax), contrasting the sublime and the picturesque, proposing the supernatural and then explaining it. Still, as in Radcliffean gothic, a function of Nature I find recurrent in The Guarany are scenes which anticipate future actions. The passage below presents a torrential storm that forecasts the ‘transformation’ of the friar Angelo di Lucca into his alter-ego Loredano.
One of those fearful tempests that frequently occur on the slopes of mountain ranges was descending upon the earth. The bellowing wind lashed the huge trees, which bowed before it their aged trunks; the thunder reverberated in the dense clouds driven hither and thither through the sky; and the lightning flashed with such frequency that forests, mountains, nature itself, seemed bathed in an ocean of fire. [...] leaning against the other column was a Carmelite friar, who watched with a smile of profound satisfaction the progress of the storm. His handsome face and strongly marked features were animated by a ray of intelligence, and an expression of energy that clearly revealed his character. Seeing this man smiling at the tempest and meeting with unflinching eye the flash of the lightning, one perceived that his soul possessed a strength of resolution and an indomitable will capable of wishing the impossible, and contending against heaven and earth to obtain it.
(The Guarany, part II, chapter I, p. 40)
Although Alencar was committed to his project of creating a national literature, at that moment, his ideas still seemed much based on European standards. Because Nature personified the element of national differentiation in literature, it was intended to appear in the novel full of significance, and the tropical environment offered the ideal setting for the manifestation of that spirit. However, despite the vigour, exuberance and sexuality Alencar symbolises in his picture of tropical Nature, he does not succeed in creating an innovative description. His forest is populated by ‘fantastic’ animals and ‘exotic’ plants. In The Guarany Nature is looked at from the perspective of someone who sees the country from outside.
The view from the house situated on the summit of the region, may invoke the beauty of ‘amplitude’, proposing integration between the civilised and the natural. However, it truly establishes a hierarchic relationship proposed by a difference in ‘height’. The elevated position of the house overbears the landscape around it. The intimate association between man and Nature does not seem to resist severe scrutiny. Looking at the scene from another angle, the stairway, ‘made half by nature and half by art’ (p. 1) is used to confirm the capacity of the colonizer in transforming landscape. The proposed communion inside the house is again deceptive. While the objects from the metropolis are presented as fine, artistic or manufactured, the natural products are mere raw material, treated as ‘curiosities of delicate colors and exquisite forms’ (p. 3). Nevertheless, this kind of ‘exotic language’ would be acceptable within the house, which is the space of the coloniser by definition. The problem starts when it spreads to the surrounding Nature.
The forest below the house is described as a ‘dome of verdure’ (p. 6) or ‘arcades of verdure, with capitals formed by the fans of the palm trees’ (p. 1) and ‘shady vaults of verdure [...], for which the ancient trunks of acaris and araribas served as columns’ (p. 6). The trees invoke features that denote architectural structures found primarily in castles and churches. The plateau on which the house stands is compared to a natural ‘altar’. Further references introduce religious convictions in the forest environment, ‘the light in passing through the dense foliage was entirely absorbed, and not a ray of the sun penetrated into this temple of creation’ (p. 6). The stream and the river also assume feudal references, being called ‘vassal and tributary’ (p. 1). In the lexical choices, Nature becomes a bearer of ideologies, describing the natural in terms of the civilized. It shows an altered ecosystem in which the house becomes the defining voice of the landscape, interpreting and classifying the forest according to its standards. In that sense, the house reads the forest presenting Nature as a source of raw material, while it is the transforming agent.
Could it be a misinterpretation in the project Alencar set himself? No, I believe the picture is more complex than this. By re-locating such a repertoire of discursive terms to the Brazilian landscape, the writer does not intend to submit to the European matrices (nor is he seeking to conceal it). On the contrary, these textual references are a stratagem to quote the foreign tradition. His manipulation of the elements is conscious, to a certain extent. Alencar seems to be saying: if they (Europeans) have castles we (Brazilians) have strong, ancient trees; if they possess temples, our sanctuary is the forest; and if they have knights in shiny metallic armour, we have noble and dextrous Indians adorned with beautiful feathers. His thinking is perfectly coherent and consistent with a Rousseauesque tradition, which ranks Nature above society. However, the comparison is ingenuous in the way it uses the foreign ‘scale’. Instead of measuring it against castles and abbeys, Alencar should have pursued a significant aesthetic rupture. Perhaps what lacked in his account was the invention of a truly original model, rather than the creation of a tropical version of European tradition. But could he? His comprehension of nationality, which worked with the simplistic dichotomy native/foreigner, took him as far as destroying the Portuguese house (imperialism) and trying to measure up to the European architectural heritage. Nevertheless, The Guarany does promote an unprecedented breakthrough, showing that Alencar was in certain ways ahead of his time. His real advance consists of introducing the concept of a multicultural nation by celebrating racial mixture, which is an essential characteristic of Brazilian society and in so doing he ultimately rejects the gothic demonising of his central images.
Stylistically, in the task of exalting the natural elements, the author frequently invests in broad angles. The opening passage approaches the scene from a bird’s eye perspective, following the river’s trajectory from source to mouth. The image of the mountain also appears in that scene, being used by Alencar to reinforce the idea of ‘wideness’. The rocky plateau is not chosen by chance to hold the house. From the authorial point of view, the vision of a horizon ‘looking proudly over the vast region that opened around him’ (p.4) allows an assessment of the natural beauty of the scene from a privileged viewpoint. Ultimately, this approach is a way of talking about freedom and independence. It also goes well with the 19th century romantic idea that any praise given to the native land reaffirmed the greatness of the nation. Since the merit of a people depended on the ability of the artist to paint the ‘local colour’, it was necessary to imbue the richest images into the description of the landscape.[2]
Seeking a style that could live up to his epic aspirations, Alencar invests in the discourse of the ‘sublime’ and in figures of language, especially hyperbole, to magnify the natural elements. In this specific point, his poetical language can be approximated to that of Ann Radcliffe. In order to give expression to his stylistic capacities, Alencar employs techniques he learned from his readings of gothic novels.[3] He approaches narrative by alternating sensations to excite the reader (using this tension to create climax), contrasting the sublime and the picturesque, proposing the supernatural and then explaining it. Still, as in Radcliffean gothic, a function of Nature I find recurrent in The Guarany are scenes which anticipate future actions. The passage below presents a torrential storm that forecasts the ‘transformation’ of the friar Angelo di Lucca into his alter-ego Loredano.
One of those fearful tempests that frequently occur on the slopes of mountain ranges was descending upon the earth. The bellowing wind lashed the huge trees, which bowed before it their aged trunks; the thunder reverberated in the dense clouds driven hither and thither through the sky; and the lightning flashed with such frequency that forests, mountains, nature itself, seemed bathed in an ocean of fire. [...] leaning against the other column was a Carmelite friar, who watched with a smile of profound satisfaction the progress of the storm. His handsome face and strongly marked features were animated by a ray of intelligence, and an expression of energy that clearly revealed his character. Seeing this man smiling at the tempest and meeting with unflinching eye the flash of the lightning, one perceived that his soul possessed a strength of resolution and an indomitable will capable of wishing the impossible, and contending against heaven and earth to obtain it.
(The Guarany, part II, chapter I, p. 40)
Although Alencar was committed to his project of creating a national literature, at that moment, his ideas still seemed much based on European standards. Because Nature personified the element of national differentiation in literature, it was intended to appear in the novel full of significance, and the tropical environment offered the ideal setting for the manifestation of that spirit. However, despite the vigour, exuberance and sexuality Alencar symbolises in his picture of tropical Nature, he does not succeed in creating an innovative description. His forest is populated by ‘fantastic’ animals and ‘exotic’ plants. In The Guarany Nature is looked at from the perspective of someone who sees the country from outside.
The view from the house situated on the summit of the region, may invoke the beauty of ‘amplitude’, proposing integration between the civilised and the natural. However, it truly establishes a hierarchic relationship proposed by a difference in ‘height’. The elevated position of the house overbears the landscape around it. The intimate association between man and Nature does not seem to resist severe scrutiny. Looking at the scene from another angle, the stairway, ‘made half by nature and half by art’ (p. 1) is used to confirm the capacity of the colonizer in transforming landscape. The proposed communion inside the house is again deceptive. While the objects from the metropolis are presented as fine, artistic or manufactured, the natural products are mere raw material, treated as ‘curiosities of delicate colors and exquisite forms’ (p. 3). Nevertheless, this kind of ‘exotic language’ would be acceptable within the house, which is the space of the coloniser by definition. The problem starts when it spreads to the surrounding Nature.
The forest below the house is described as a ‘dome of verdure’ (p. 6) or ‘arcades of verdure, with capitals formed by the fans of the palm trees’ (p. 1) and ‘shady vaults of verdure [...], for which the ancient trunks of acaris and araribas served as columns’ (p. 6). The trees invoke features that denote architectural structures found primarily in castles and churches. The plateau on which the house stands is compared to a natural ‘altar’. Further references introduce religious convictions in the forest environment, ‘the light in passing through the dense foliage was entirely absorbed, and not a ray of the sun penetrated into this temple of creation’ (p. 6). The stream and the river also assume feudal references, being called ‘vassal and tributary’ (p. 1). In the lexical choices, Nature becomes a bearer of ideologies, describing the natural in terms of the civilized. It shows an altered ecosystem in which the house becomes the defining voice of the landscape, interpreting and classifying the forest according to its standards. In that sense, the house reads the forest presenting Nature as a source of raw material, while it is the transforming agent.
Could it be a misinterpretation in the project Alencar set himself? No, I believe the picture is more complex than this. By re-locating such a repertoire of discursive terms to the Brazilian landscape, the writer does not intend to submit to the European matrices (nor is he seeking to conceal it). On the contrary, these textual references are a stratagem to quote the foreign tradition. His manipulation of the elements is conscious, to a certain extent. Alencar seems to be saying: if they (Europeans) have castles we (Brazilians) have strong, ancient trees; if they possess temples, our sanctuary is the forest; and if they have knights in shiny metallic armour, we have noble and dextrous Indians adorned with beautiful feathers. His thinking is perfectly coherent and consistent with a Rousseauesque tradition, which ranks Nature above society. However, the comparison is ingenuous in the way it uses the foreign ‘scale’. Instead of measuring it against castles and abbeys, Alencar should have pursued a significant aesthetic rupture. Perhaps what lacked in his account was the invention of a truly original model, rather than the creation of a tropical version of European tradition. But could he? His comprehension of nationality, which worked with the simplistic dichotomy native/foreigner, took him as far as destroying the Portuguese house (imperialism) and trying to measure up to the European architectural heritage. Nevertheless, The Guarany does promote an unprecedented breakthrough, showing that Alencar was in certain ways ahead of his time. His real advance consists of introducing the concept of a multicultural nation by celebrating racial mixture, which is an essential characteristic of Brazilian society and in so doing he ultimately rejects the gothic demonising of his central images.
[1] Antonio Candido. A Formação da Literatura Brasileira (Momentos Decisivos). 7a. edição. Belo Horizonte: Itatiaia, 1993 (pp. 260-3).
[2] In his translation of The Guarany J.W. Hawes omitted some passages, usually the ones where Alencar gives lengthy descriptions of Nature.
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