AMERICAN JOURNALS

Born in Algeria in 1913, Albert Camus was living in

occupied France when he wrote The Myth of Sisyphus
and The Outsider, the two works that brought him
fame. Other major works published during the
period covered by these journals include The Plague,
The Rebel and all his important plays. His other works
include The Fall, Exile and the Kingdom, the acclaimed
Cahiers and Camels, and A Happy Death. In 1957,

Camus was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature.

In 1960 he was killed in a car accident.

ALBERT CAMUS

American Journals
Translation by Hugh Levick

(ABACUS)

AN ABACUS BOOK

First published in Great Britain by

Hamish Hamilton Ltd 1989
Published by Sphere Books Ltd in Abacus 1990
Reprinted 1990
Copyright Editions Gallimard 1978
Copyright (first English language edition) Paragon House 1988
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any
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permission in writing of the publisher, nor be
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without a similar condition including this
condition being imposed on the subsequent
purchaser.
Printed and bound in Great Britain by
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&

Wyman Ltd, Reading

ISBN 0 3491 0087

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A Division of
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&

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Macmillan Pt'rgamon Publishinr;:: Corporal ion

Contents
Preface to the English Language Edition ...... .. 7
.

Introduction to the French Edition

............11

The United States (March-May 1946) ..........19

South America Uune-August 1949) ............57
Notes ..

Chronology

.... . . ............. ...

.

.................

A Note on the Author

143

. . .. 149
.

...... ........... .155

.

A Note on the Type .............

. .. . 157
.

Preface to the English

Language Edition

American journals is a translation of Journaux de

voyage, which was published by Gal l i mard in 1978.
The complete text has been translated, with the
exception of several explanatory notes unneces
sary for English-language readers. Some notes
have also been added , to idemify names and terms
perhaps more fam i liar to French readers than to
those reading in English .
The volume incorporates two of Camus's
notebooks: one kept during his 1946 visit to the
7

AMERICAN JOURNALS

United States, and the second, during his 1 949

trip to South America. The United States journal,
which is the shorter of the two, is loosely struc
tured : Camus seems to be writing when the mood
strikes him . Entries are generally labelled by days
of the week or descriptive headings. In contrast,
every entry in the South A merican journal begins
with a date, and there is an entry for every date,
except July 29 , and August 28-30 (during the lat
ter period , Camus was ill and anxious to return to
Paris, his departure having been postponed sev
eral times).
These journals reflect the stress of travel and
a hectic schedule of public appearances, and thus
they afford us glimpr.es of Camus at his most sar
donic and his most vulnerable. Witness his first re
action to New York : " . . . Everyone looks like
they've stepped out of a B-film "; and his thoughts
during the sea voyage to South A merica : "Twice,
the idea of suicide . . . I thin k I u nderstand now
how one kills oneself. " Camus's attitude toward the
sea best expresses his ambivalence: "That's the
way the sea is, and that's why I love it! A call to life
and an invitation to death!" The journals are filled
with humorous observations, somber musings on
philosophy and the meaning of life , and notes
which would later become parts of larger works,
including "The Growing Stone, " "The Sea Close
By, " Neither Victims nor Executioners and The Plague.

PREFACE 9

The introduction wh ich follows was written

by Roger Quil l iot, a long-time editor of Camus,
who compiled the Pleiade edition of Camus's
works.

Introduction to the
French Edition

Several years ago , when we published the second

volume of A lbert Camus's Notebooks, two difficul
ties presented themselves: one a problem of princi
ple, the other tech nical i n nature.
The notebook devoted to South A merica was
not filed with the others; the manuscript was also
separate.1 It was entitled Voyage to South America. I t
was clear that t h e author h a d questioned h imself
about its fate. Furthermore, when i n 19 54 he sent
me the typed manuscript of these collected
11

12

AMERICAN JOURNALS

Notebooks, the trip to South America appeared in a

special folder. Had Camus envisaged fleshing it
out, making of it a larger work? We have no proof.
But everything indicates that the trip and its nar
ration occupied a special place in his mind.
This being the case, i n what form could we
publish it, since the notebook itself was too short
to come aut as an individual volume? Very logi
cally, we imagined associating it with a trip to
North America which was included in the chrono
logical sequence of the other notebooks.2 An in
clusion which is easy to understand i f one consid
ers that aside from some traveller's notes
concerning the crossing of the Atlantic and the
discovery of New York, Camus speaks rather little
about the meetings and adventures that consti
tuted this voyage, and even less about the lectures
he gave in New York and at Harvard and how peo
ple reacted to them. On the other hand, the
pre(lccupations that are strewn throughout the
1945 and 1946 notebooks are presen t in these
pages, in particular The Plague.
Despite these differences in texture we de
cided to issue the two notebooks together. The
text was established by Madame Camus and myself
by exam ining different typescripts and manu
scripts, one of wh ich-the notebook of the Voy-

INTRODUCTION

13

age to the U . S . A . -belonged, like all the note

books of its type, to Mada me Camus, the other to
Madame Maria Casares, who generously en trusted
it to us for exam ination .
To avoid all useless speculation, let me say
once again that these texts are published, l ike
those wh ich preceded them, without any cuts. I n i
tials, when they exist, were chosen by the author.
One exception, however: twice we have replaced
the name of the same person with an X .

The two notebooks have one point of interest

in common : they show us how Camus passed from
rough notes to a fin ished work. Several passages
from the Voyage to the U. S . A . can be found in
"The Rains of New York "; important fragments
from the Voyage to South A merica have been in
tegrated either into "The Sea Close By " (L'E te),
or even more volumi nously into "The Growing
Stone . " Two dance scenes, actually witnessed , are
condensed into one of the only exotic texts which
Camus ever wrote; the trip to I guape and the epi
sode of the growing stone, recorded as simple folk
lore, take on, in the short story, symbolic value.
There are few examples which so clearly exhibit
the transformations of the raw fact into the cre
ated myth-and it is a myth willed opti m istic by
the author, for whom the actual voyage was ex
hausting and depressing.

1 4 AMERICAN JOURNALS

The different circumstances of the two voy

ages i n fluenced Camus's reactions: the trip to the
U. S . A . , begun March 10, 1946, is the voyage of a
well-known journalist who has not yet attained ful l
recogn ition as an author. From which fact springs
the wary welcome of the American immigration
police who see in Camus the moving spirit behind
a newspaper which proudly flaunts the motto,
From Resistance to Revolution. The amazing thing is
that Camus tells us nothing about his visits to the
American universities, wh ich should have been as
tonishing for a French traveller, nor about the
most prestigious of them, Harvard, wh ich none
theless recorded his passage in its monthly bulle
tin. H is notes suggest a kind of bewilderment,
both admiring and reproach fu l , face to face with
this New World, limitless both in its skyscrapers
and its expanses; and a vague anxiety about the
unconscious expansionism i mplied by such colossal
power. In the near future, between the two hostile
camps forming in the East and the West-of
which the U. S . A . is one of the pillars-Cam us will
obstinately refuse to choose . Nonetheless, at this
time he confides to his former teacher, M. Ger
mai n : " M y trip to America taught me a lot of
things, the details of which would take more space
than I have here . I t's a great country , strong and
disciplined i n liberty , but unaware of many things,
foremost of which is Europe . "

INTRODUCTION

15

The Voyage to South America is of a differ

ent nature: Camus is in a precarious state of health
at the outset, but it is only progressively that he
begins to suspect a new attack of tuberculosis. I n
t h i s sense his itinerary is also that o f t h e re-emerg
ing ill ness, which is one of the subjects of "The
Sea Close By." He cannot be fa r from those who
are dear to him wi thout great pain, to which his
nervousness about mail delays testifies. Finally, it is
his first official voyage as a celebrity: they will not
get him to do it again (although later on he, in
reality, gives lectures in I taly and Greece). If he
does manage to amuse h imself from time to time,
more often than not he is annoyed by the many
constraints in herent in this kind of project: a vari
ety of meetings, often disappointing, the uneven
quality of his hosts and how he is received
everything is set up to irritate a man who detests
fashionable gatherings, but who knows that having
undertaken this trip, he must also accept these
annoyances . Thus we see him submitting himself,
with vexation, to an excessively busv schedule of
events of varying degrees of in terest .
On the whole these pages bear the mark of a
state of crisis w h ich is confirmed from the very
beginning as he reads Vigny on the boat. It is a
physical crisis wh ich will take Camus many months
to overcome; an existential crisis which translates

1 6 AMERICAN JOURNALS

into his obsession with suicide and hi s acute feeling

of exile-another aspect of this voyage which
places it at the source of "The Growing Stone."
He also appears to be particularly sensitive to
the intense contrasts within these American lands,
as seen from a European vantage point: wealth
and extreme poverty; refined and primi tive cul
tures, someti mes within the same community. Not
to mention the enormous problem that .the over
popu lation of these lands-particularly in the
large cities-poses for any lucid observer! Not
without discomfort does Camus discover what was
beginning to be called the Th ird World. And
without a doubt he suffers from seeing it in a whirl
of airplane flights and fashionable gatherings .

Two trips separated from one another by a

span of three years. During the twelve years which
follow, Camus rarely con sents to lectures i n for
eign countries: he will refuse a huge sum from Ja
pan . On ly from a sense of obl igation will he resign
h imself to the Nobel Prize celebrations i n Stock
holm, and even then only at the insistence of
Roger Martin du Gard and his publ ishers.
Paradoxically, even though the young man
without great resources had travelled freely
throughout Europe , the writer at the height of his

INTRODU CTION

17

fame, after I 948, gave up the voyages which gen

erally en riched the lives of his contemporaries .
R. Qui lliot

I. It is announced in the manuscript of notebook VI by the indica

tion, "seeS. Am. journal june to August 1949."
2. In manuscript these pages are found in notebook V, a student
notebook like the preceding ones, and the text is connected to the
page which was begun before his departure. In the two typescripts,
the numbering of the pages does not indicate any discontinuity. In
contestably, the notes were made spontaneously, and were not re
wriuen.

The United States

A M E R I C A. D E P A R T U R E .

The light anxiety of departure has passed. I n the

train, I meet R., a psychiatrist who is goi ng over
there to make contacts. I know that he ' l l be i n my
cabin on the boat, and that's all right because I
find him both discreet and friendly. I n my train
compartment , th ree kids rather wild at the start,
but who eventually calm down, their little maid,
their mother, a tal l , elegant woman with bright
eyes, and a tiny little blond woman who sits oppo19

20

AMERICAN JOURNALS

site me crying. An u neventfu l trip except for one

incident. I do several favors for the young blond
wom a n . Before Rouen , a sort of tall woman with
thick features, dressed i n a long fur coat, asks me
i f all the people i n this part of the train are going
to America . If I ' m going. "Yes . " She excuses her
sel f and then asks me i f she can ask me what I ' m
goi n g t o d o there .
"Some lectures . "
" Li terary o r scien tific?"
" Literary . "
A truly theatrical exclamation , complete with
raising her hand quickly to cover her mouth-es
capes her. " Ah!" she says, " i s n ' t that marvelous!"
And two seconds later, her eyes lowered: "I
am also i n literature . "
" O h , real ly!"
" Yes. I am goi ng to publish a book of poems . "
"That's very good , " I say .
" Yes, and I 've gotten Rosemonde Gerard to
contribute

preface . She's written a very beautiful

sonnet for me . "

"That's wonderful!"

TH E UN ITED STATES

21

" Of course, it's only my first book. Bu t to

make a l iterary debut with a preface by Rose
monde Gerard . . . . "
" Who's the publisher?"
She gives me a name that I don ' t know . She
explains that it's traditional verse "because my
leaning is towards the classical forms. I don ' t know
what you think about modern l i terature . . . but I
don 't l ike what I can ' t understand," etc . , etc . She
gets off the train at Rouen and offers to mail a
telegram for me that I want to send to Paris be
cause I 've left beh ind R's New York address . She
never sent it because I haven ' t received an answer.
In the dining car I see R. and we eat lunch sit
ting opposi te the tiny blond who can ' t manage to
crack her walnuts. In Le Havre the tiny little
woman , who seems completely lost , asks me to
help her. Waiting for the bus we talk a little. She's
goi ng to Philadelph ia. The bus is an old pol ice
van , di rty and dusty. Le Havre , with its immense
ru ins. The air is hot and humid. When we arrive at
the Oregon, I see that it's a freighter, a large
freighter, but a freigh ter nonetheless. Customs ,
foreign exchange, pol ice stat ion with the small
box of cards that a cop checks while you tell him
your name-and that I know well because of some
close calls that I had with boxes like th is one dur
ing the occupation . And then boarding the ship.

22

AMERICAN JOURNALS

The cabin for four with showers and a toilet

has become a cabin for five where it's impossible
to sneeze without knocki ng something over. We
are asked to go to the dining room to see the
maitre d ' hotel. I n reality we've been convened to
watch a comic performance. The maitre d'hotel
looks like the Frenchmen that one sees in Ameri
can films, and on top of it, he's afflicted with a tic
that has him passing out irritating wi nks right and
left. In order to compose harmon ious dining ta
bles he has, like a good hostess, a layout of the din
ing room and a list of the professions of those pas
sengers who've come specially recommended.
Naturally, he wants to put me with a journalist}
But I refuse energetically and finally manage to
get a table with R. and the little blond whose name
is-wonderfully-Jeanne Lorette. She's a little
Parisian who's in the perfume business, who was
crying this morn ing because she had left her twin
sister who's everything to her, but she's goin g to
Philadelphia to meet an American whom she's
supposed to marry. R. is delighted by the natural
ness, discretion, and k i ndness of Lorette. Me too.
We ' re a little less deligh ted by the cabin. The fold
out bed, i n the middle of the room, is occupied by
an old man of 70. The bu n k above mine belongs
to a middle-aged guy whom I take to be a business
man. Above R. is a vice consul who's on his way to
Shanghai and who has an open, fu n-loving appear-

TH E UNITED STATES

23

ance. We get settled and then I decide to do SOJTie

work.
I dine with R. , Lorette, the ta l l lady from the
train compartment (she's not really so tal l-but
th in and elegant), and a Mex ican couple "who are
in busi ness ." The two women seem to look at our
Lorette a little distrustful ly. But since she j ust con
ti nues being natural, she's the one who appears to
have the most class. She tells us that her mother
in-law who doesn't even know her sends her the
nicest letters, and that it seems that American
mothers-in-law are absolutely top quality. Her fi
anci is religious, and he neither drinks nor
smokes. He asked her to go to confession before
leaving France. The morni n g she was leaving (dur
ing the preceding days, she had been getting the
necessary papers, etc .) she got up at 6 A.M. to go to
church, but it was closed and the train was leaving
early. So she ' l l confess over there and, she says in
her light Parisian accent (most of the time she ar
ticulates very badly and you have to strain to catch
what she's saying), "I prefer that because the one
over t here won 't understand very well what I 'm
saying, and he'll give me absolution ." We explain
to her that in cases like this they always give abso
lution . " Even for mortal ones." But of course, R.
says, convinced . A nd we poin t out to her the fact
that there's undoubtedly a chaplain on the boat.

24

AMERICAN JOURNALS

A fter dinner R. and I agree on the fact that

the charming Lorette tries to calm her own appre
hension by presenting to others and consequently
to herself a comforting image of her situation
which is perhaps comforting, but this is not the
question. In any case we also agree on wishing for
this curious little creature all the happiness that
she deserves. Goi ng to sleep is a more difficult
project. The cabin is packed . There are two snor
ers, the old man and the businessma n . On top of
that R. and I had opened the porthole, but the old
man closes it in the middle of the night. I have the
i mpression that I ' m breath ing the breath of the
others and I want to go sleep on the deck. Only
the idea of the cold holds me back. Wake up at
7:30A.M. because after 8 : 3 0 we can no longer have
breakfast . Work in the morning. At 12:15 lunch.
The Mexican tells me that he represents French
perfumes in Mexico and goes on and on about
French quality. The beautiful bright eyes opposite
me lose a little of their haughtiness, and one per
ceives that there was a lot of timidity in their brilli
ance. Lorette assures us that she will never permit
her fam i ly to speak badly of France. She portrays
the people of Antwerp as having outstanding
judgement. (If they buy jewels for their wives,
they're always uncut diamonds, never set rings.
That way, they have capita l . And fur coats. Safe
investments in short .)

TH E UNITED STATES

25

I n the afternoon we speak with the vice

consu l . I ' m not surprised to learn that he is from
Oran. And naturally we pat each other enth usiasti
cally on the shou lder. He's been to the most unbe
l ievable countries, among them Bolivia, which
he describes very wel l . La Paz is at an alti tude of
1 3 ,000 feet . Automobiles there lose 40% of their
power , ten nis balls hardly make it over the net,
and horses can only jump low obstacles. He man
aged there by eating garlic. His wife, a cultivated
Polish woma n , tells R. stories about magic. 3 P.M.
The ship leaves . The sea is smooth. The wife of
one of the sailors, in fu l l mourning, runs clumsily
down the pier waving goodbye to the ship. My last
i mage of France is of destroyed buildings at the
very edge of a wounded eart h .

T O W O RK.

At dinner the Mexican tells stories about passing

through customs. Only one is i n teresting: the one
about an American in Mexico who, after an acci
dent , wanted to bring his defunct leg back with
him i n a crystal box. Three days of discussions to
know whether or not this object fel l into a cate
gory which had been established to restrict the
importation of materials that could lead to epi
demics. But the American having declared that he
would remai n in Mexico rather than be separated

26

AMERICAN JOURNALS

from his leg, the United States took action so as

not to lose an honorable citizen . Lorette coughs a
lot and is afraid of getting seasick. R. wants to cure
her through autosuggestion. Which he does very
skil lfully. After din ner I have a drink with Ma
dame D . , the tall , bright-eyed woman. Husband at
the Washington Embassy.

l 0

A. M.

T u E s D A y.

The night was short but good. This morn ing it's
raining and the sea is swel ling. The bar is practi
cally empty. I work in peace. The Atlantic is the
color of a pigeon's wing. Before lunch I lie down,
my stomach a little upset, and after sleeping for
half an hour, I wake up fresh as a daisy. A t lunch
some abstentions. Our Lorette stays in her bunk
all day. The Mexicans leave the table before the
end of the meal. Mme. D., R. and I enjoy a
friendly chat. But R. is a little uncomfortable and
goes to lie dow n . And even though I feel fine, I do
the same. I feel too sluggish to work. But I do read
War and Peace. How I would have been i n love
with Natasha!
The day drags on, heavy and monotonous.
After dinner Mr. X of the furs talks to me about
Oriental wisdom . I t's the kind of conversation that
I've never been able to stand for more than five
minutes. I leave to join N atasha Rostov i n bed.

THE UNITED STATES

27

W E D N E S D A Y.

Awake with a fever and a vague discomfort in my

throat. Despite a rough sea the sun is beautifu l . I
spend the morning stretched out beneath it. I n the
afternoon English with R. on the bridge and cock
tails with M me. D. at the Captain's. After dinner
R. tells me about his memories as a doctor . Da
chau . Diarrhea flow ing from the bodies of the
dyi ng pi led one on top of the other.

T H U R S DA Y.

Lousy day with shivers from a flu . I n the evening a

little champagne with R. and Mme. D . revives me.
But my head is empty. N evertheless, English in the
afternoon .

FRIDAY.

The flu subsides. But life continues to be monoto

nous. I work a little in the morning. The sea still
rough . I n the afternoon together with the consul
(Dahoui) we receive Mme. D. and L. in our cabin.
An enjoyable conversation . The consul tells (with
Algerian eloquence) the story of a little vice-consul
from Andripole who was unable to pay his first
visit to the consul because of fou r orangutans
which were tied up in the consul's waiting room .

28

AMERICAN JOURNALS

He fi nally decides to make the call, but continues

to spend fearful days in the consulate. Finally, af
ter the consul tells h i m that one of the animals had
died from eating a box of matches, the vice-consul
brings a box each day and gives it affectionately to
one of the animals until its death is achieved.
When all four of them are buried, he breathes eas
ily again.
Also a classic story of consuls who've spent 3 0
years i n Djeddah2 a n d elsewhere, who dri n k and
die i n solitude (for me).
In the evening after din ner, since we are
going to sail near the Azores, I go onto the deck
and, in a corner sheltered from the strong wind
wh ich has been blowing si nce our departure, I re
vel in a pure night, with rare but enormous stars
which pass quickly in a straight line above the ship.
A slender moon gives the sky a light without brilli
ance w h ich lights up the turbulent water with its
reflectio n . Once again I look, as I have for years,
at the designs that the foam and the wake make on
the surface of the water, this lace which is inces
santly made and u n made, this liquid marble . . .
and once more I look for the exact comparison
that will hold for me this marvelous flowering of
sea, water, and light that has escaped me for so
long now. Still in vain . For me, it's a recurring
symbo l .

TH E UNITED STATES

29

F R I DA Y. S A T U RDA Y. S U N DAY.

Same program . The sea still too rough, we head

towards the South and pass the Azores. Th is soci
ety in miniature is both fasci nating and d u ll .
Everyone prides himself on being elegant and
knowing how to live. The performing dog aspect .
But some of them are opening up. The fu rrier X is
on the boat . Thus we learn that he has a magnifi
cent porcelain serv ice , superb sil ver, etc., but that
he uses copies that he's had made and keeps the
originals locked up. Wh ich made me think that he
also has a copy of a wife with whom he's never
been able to enjoy anything more than a copy of
love.
Th ree or four passengers are obviously going
to the U . S . A . to export capital. I even have the
crafty strategy explained to me. "Notice," says
one of them, "that I'm not doing anything agai nst
my country. I ts intentions are good, but Fra nce
doesn't know anything about business ." These
people, on the contrary, know about busi ness.
I share with R. , who continues to be a charm
ing companion, the opi nion that the only contem
porary problem is money. Ugly-looking custom
ers . . . greed and impotence . Fortu nately, there is
the company of women . I t's the basic truth .
Mme. D. more and more charm ing. L. also.

30 AMERICAN JOURNALS

M O N DA Y.

Beautiful day. The wind has subsided . For the fi rst

time, the sea is calm. The passengers come up
onto the deck like mushrooms after a rainfal l . We
breathe easily. Even ing a magni ficent sunset. Af
ter dinner, moon light on the sea . M me . D . and I
agree that most people don't lead the lives that
they would like to lead and that it's a question of
cowardice.

S U N DA Y.

They announce that we will arrive in the evening.

The week has gone by in a whirl . The evening of
Tuesday the 21st, our table decided to celebrate
the arrival of spring. Drinking until 4 A.M. The
next day as wel l . Forty-eight euphoric hours dur
ing which all relationships rushed forward to new
levels. Mme. D . is in revolt against her mi lieu. L.
confesses to me that she's going to make a mar
riage of reason. On Saturday we've left the Gulf
Stream and it gets terribly chilly. The time passes
very quickly, however, and actually I 'm not in such
a hurry to arrive. I've fi n ished my lecture . And
the rest of the time I look at the sea , and I talk,
mostly with R.-truly intelligent-and of course
M me. D. and L .

TH E UNITED STATES

3l

Today at noon , we see land. Since this morn

ing seagu lls have been flyi ng over the boat, seem
ingly suspended , immobile, above the decks . The
fi rst th ing we see is Coney Island, wh ich looks like
the Porte d'Orleans. "It's St . Denis or Gennevi l
liers," L. says . It's absol utely true. In the cold,
with the grey wind and the flat sky, it's all rather
depressing. We'll drop anchor in the bay of the
Hudson and we won ' t disembark until tomorrow
morni ng. In the distance, the skyscrapers of Man
ha ttan against a backdrop of mist. Deep down, I
feel ca lm and indifferent, as I generally do i n front
of spectacles that don ' t move me.

M 0 N DA Y.

Go to bed very late. Get up very early. We enter

New York harbor. A terrific sight despite or be
cause of the mist. The order, the strength, the
economic power are there . The heart trembles in
front of so much adm irable in human ity.
I don't disem bark unti l 1 1 A.M., after long for
malities during which I am the only one of all the
passengers to be treated as suspect . The immigra
tion officer ends by excusing h imself for having
detained me for so long. 3 "I was obliged to, but I
can ' t tell you why." A mystery, but after five years
of occupation!

32 AME RICAN JOUR NALS

Met by C . , E., and an envoy from the consu

late. C. unchanged . E. also. But in all this bustle,
the goodbyes with L, M me. D., and R. are rapid
and perfunctory .
Tired . My flu comes back. And it's on shaky
legs that I get the first impact of New York. At
first glance, a hideous, inhuman city. But I know
that one changes one's mind. A few details strike
me: that the garbage men wear gloves, that the
traffic moves in an orderly fash ion without police
men at the intersections, etc., that no one ever has
cha nge in this country, and that everyone looks
like they've stepped out of a B-film . In the eve
ning, crossing Broadway in a taxi, tired and fever
ish, I am literally stupefied by the circus of lights. I
am just com ing out of five years of night, and this
orgy of violent lights gives me for the fi rst time
the impression of a new continent. An enormous,
50-foot-h igh Camel billboard : a G.l. with his
mouth wide open blows enormous puffs of real
smoke. Everything is yel low and red . I go to bed
sick in both body and soul, but knowing perfectly
well that I will have changed my mind in two days.

T U E S DA Y.

Wake up with fever. I ncapable of going out before

noon . A little better when E. arrives. I have lunch

TH E UNITED STATES

33

with h i m and D., a Hungarian journal ist, in a

French restaurant. I rea lize that I haven 't noticed
the skyscrapers; they 've seemed so natural to me.
It's a question of general proportions. And then
also you ca n't live all the time looking up. There
fore you only have in your field of vision a reason
able proportion of stories . Magnificent food
stores. Enough to make all of Europe droo l . I ad
m ire the women in the street, the color of their
dresses, and the colors-reds, yellows, greens-of
all the taxis wh ich look l ike insects in their Sunday
best. As for the stores selling ties, you have to see
it to believe it. So much bad taste hardly seem s
imaginable. D. affirms th at Americans don't l i ke
ideas . That's what they say. I'm not so sure .
At 3 o'clock I go to see Regine Junier. Admi
rable old maid who sends me all her wealth be
cause her father died of consumption at 27 and
so . . . She lives in two rooms in the m iddle of an
army of hats which she makes, and which are ex
ceptionally ugly. But nothing tarn ishes the gener
ous and attentive heart that shows in each word
that she speaks. I leave her, devoured by fever and
unable to do anything but go to bed . So much for
the other meetings. -Odor of New York-a per
fume of iron and cement-the iron dominates.

34

AMERICAN JOURNALS

I n the evening dinner with L. M. at "Rubens. "

He tells me the story of his secretary, very "Amer
ican Tragedy. " Married to a man with whom she
has two children , she and her mother discover that
the husband is a homosexua l . Separation. The
mother, a puritanical Protestant, works on the
daughter for months , breeding in her the idea that
her children are degenerates. The idiot finally suf
focates one and strangles the other. Declared in
competent, she is freed. L.M. gives me his per
sonal theory about Americans. I t's the fifteenth
that I've heard .
At the corner of East I st Street , little bar
where a loud j u ke box smothers all the conversa
tions. To have five minutes of si lence , you have to
put in five cents.

WE D N E S D A Y.

A little better this morning. Visit from Liebling, of

the New Yorker. Charming man. Ch iaromonte4
then Rube . The latter two and I have lunch in a
French restaurant. I n my opinion, Ch . talks about
America like nobody else. I point out to him the
"fu neral homes. " He tells me how they function.
One way to know a country is to know how people
die there. Here , everything is anticipated. "You
die and we do the rest , " say the advertisements.

THE UNITED STATES

35

The cemeteries are private property: "Hurry up

and reserve your place ." Everything happens
in the store, transportation, ceremonies, etc. A
dead man is a finished man .-At Gilson's, radio.
Then at my hotel with Vercors, Thi merais, and
O'Brien.5 Tomorrow's lecture . At 6, a drin k with
Gral at the St. Regis. Returni ng, I walk down
Broadway, lost i n the crowd and the enormous, il
luminated billboards. Yes, there is an American
tragic. It's what has been oppressing me since I ar
rived here, but I still don 't know what it's made
from .
Bowery Street, side b y side for a quarter o f a
mile shops selling wedding gowns. I eat alone i n
t he restaurant where I h a d lunch . And I g o back
to write.
Negro question. We sent a diplomat from
Martinique to the consulate here. He was lodged
in Harlem . With regard to his French colleagues,
he perceived for the first time that he was not of
the same race.
Contradictory observa:ion: in the bus a mid
dle-class American sitting opposite me gets up to
give his seat to an old Negro lady.

36

A MER ICA N JOUR NALS

I mpression of overflowi n g wealth . I nflation is

here, a n American says to me.

T H U R S D A Y.
The day spent dictating my lecture. I n the evening
a little stage fright, but I throw myself into i t right
away and the public is " hooked . " But w h i le I ' m
speaking someone l i fts t h e box office receipts
which were supposed to be given to French chil
dren . At the end O ' Brien announces the theft , and
a spectator proposes that everyone give the same
sum at the exit that he originally gave when enter
i n g . Everyone gives much more and the receipts
are considerable . Typical of American generosity.
Their hospitality, their cordiality are l i ke that too,
spontaneous and without affectation . I t ' s what's
best in them .
Their love of animals. Pet stores with several
floors : on the first floor the canaries and on the
top floor the big mon keys. Several years ago on
5th Avenue a man was arrested for driving a truck
with a giraffe i n it. He explained that his giraffe
lacked fresh air in the suburbs where he kept it,
and that this was his solutio n . In Central Park, a
lady grazes a gazelle. I n court the lady explains
that the gazelle is a perso n .

THE UNITED STATES

37

"However, it doesn 't speak," says the j udge.

"Yes, the language of goodness."
Five dollar fine. After that, a tunnel 3 ki lome
ters long under the Hudson and the terrific New
Jersey bridge.
After the lecture, a drink with Sch i ffrin,6
Dolores Vanetti, who speaks the purest slang that
I ' ve ever heard, and others. Mrs. Sch i ffrin asks me
if I've ever been an actor.

F R I D A Y.

Knopf.' 11 A.M. The big time. 12. Broadcasting.

Gilson is nice. We'll go see the Bowery together. I
have lunch with Rube and J. de La nnux who takes
us for a drive through New York . Beautiful blue
sky which forces me to remember that we're on
the same latitude as Lisbon, something wh ich is
hard to believe. In rhythm with the traffic, the
gi lded skyscr::tpers turn and turn in the blue above
our heads. It's a good moment.
We go to Tryon Park above Harlem and look
down at the Bronx on one side, the Hudson on the
other. Brilliant magnolias all over the place. I sam
ple a new specimen of these "ice creams" which
are such a joy to me. Another good momen t .

38

AMERICAN JOURNALS

At 4 o'clock Brom ley is waiting for me at the

hotel. We take off for New Jersey. Gigantic land
scape of factories, bridges, and railroads. And
then, suddenly East Orange and a countryside as
postcard as can be, with thousands of neat and tidy
cottages like toys in the midst of tall poplars and
magnolias. I ' m shown the little public library,
bright and gay, which the neighborhood uses a lot
-with a huge room for ch ildren . (Finally a coun
try where the children are rea lly taken care of. ) I
look in the card catalogue under phi losophy: W.
James and that's it.
At Bromley's house, American hospital ity (in
fact, his father is from Germany). We work on the
translation of Caligula, which he has fin ished. He
explains to me that I don ' t know how to take care
of my publicity, that I have a standing here of
which I should take advantage, and that the suc
cess of Ca ligula here would put me and my chil
dren on Easy Street . By his calcu lations I should
make 1 ,500,000 dollars. I laugh and he shakes his
head. "Aach! You don ' t have any sense." By the
time we return to the city, we' ve become quite
friendly. He's a great guy and he wants us to go to
Mexico together. (N.B.: he's an American who
doesn 't drin k!)

THE UNITED STATES

39

S A T U R D A Y.

Regine. I bring her my presents and she cries tears

of gratitude!
A drink at Dolores'. Then Regine takes me on
a tour of the big American department stores. I
think of France. I n the even ing dinner with L. M .
From the top o f the Plaza, I admire the island cov
ered with its stone monsters. In the night with its
millions of lit wi ndows, and its large black walls
wh ich carry the flickering lights halfway i nto the
sky, I have the i mpression that a gigantic fire is
under way which would raise to the horizon thou
sands of immense black carcasses stuffed with tiny
points of combustion . The charming countess .

SUN D A Y.

A trip to Staten I sland with Chiaramonte and

Abel. 8 On the way back, i n lower Manhattan, an
immense geological dig between skyscrapers
wh ich stand very close to one another; we ad
vance, overwhelmed by a feeling of something
prehistoric. We eat in Ch inatow n . And I breathe
for the first time i n a place where I feel the expan
sive but orderly life that I truly love .

40 AMERICAN JOURNALS

M 0 N D A Y M 0 R N I N G.

Wal k with Georgette Pope who came to my hotel,

God knows why. She's from New Caledonia.
"What is your husband's job?-Magician! " From
the top of the Empire State Building, in a freezing
wind, we admire New York , its ancient rivers and
its overflowing of stone.
At lunch Saint-Ex . 's wife-a maniac-tells us
that in San Salvador her father had, along with 17
legitimate children , forty bastards, each of whom
received an acre of land.
Evening, an interview at L'Ecole Libre des
Hautes Etudes. Tired , I go to Broadway with J . S .
Roller skating. W. 52nd Street. A n i mmense
rink covered with dust and red velvet. In a rectan
gular box stuck in the back under the ceiling, an
old lady plays a great variety of tunes on a large
orga n . Hundreds of sailors, and girls dressed for
the occasion in j umpsuits revolve arm i n arm in an
infernal din of little metal wheels and organ stops.
The description is worth working on.
Then Eddy and Leon , a n ightclub without any
charm . To make up for the dreariness of the
place, J.S. and I have ourselves photographed as
Adam and Eve by means of two completely naked

THE U NITED STATES

41

cardboard mannequins (li ke the ones a t a fair) with

holes at head level where you insert your face.
J ., who has interesting thi ngs to say about
American love , wants to introduce me to the taxi
girls. A small, dusty, softly lit hall. Each dime buys
you a dance . But if you want to talk to one of the
girls, you have to go to the back of the hall where,
each on one side of a small barrier, it's i mpossible
to come any closer. Impression of repression and
terrible sexual exasperation. J. tells me about V-E
Day and the orgiastic scenes at Times Square.

T U E S D A Y.

With H arold (charming), who also talks to me

about the A merican woman . In the evening
French I nstitute boring. But we go to a Negro
night club with Dr. Jerry Winter. Rocco, the best
N egro pianist I've heard in years. A piano on roll
ers which he pushes in front of hi m as he plays.
The rhythm , force, and precision of his playing
and him, jumping, dancing, throwing his head and
hair right and left.
Impression that only the Negroes give life,
passion , and nostalgia to this country which , in
their own way, they colonized.

42 A MERICAN JOURNALS

N ight on the Bowery. Poverty-and a Euro

pean wants to say : "Finally, reality. " The utterly
derelict. And twenty cent hotels. Decorated like a
"saloon , " Bowery Follies, where some very old
female singers perform for an impoverished audi
ence. And, several steps away , the most splendid
bridal shops that one can imagine-everything in
one place--mirrors , brilliant , etc. Yes, an aston
ishing night.
W. Fra nk .9 One of the few superior men that
I've met here. He despairs a little for the A merica
of today and compares it with the A merica of the
19th century. "The great minds (Melville) have
always been sol itary here. "
Vassar College. An army of young starlets
who recline on the lawns with their long legs
crossed . What they do for young people here is
worth rememberi ng.

S U N D A Y.

Long conversation with Ch . Can we create a secu

lar church?
The afternoon with students. They don't feel
the real problem; however, their nostalgia is evi
dent. In this country where everything is done to

THE UNITED STATES

43

prove that life isn't tragic, they feel something is

missi ng. This great effort is pathetic, but one must
reject the tragic after having looked at it, not
before .

M ON D A Y .

Ryder 1 0 and Figari . l1 Two very great painters.

Ryder's paintings, mystical i n inspiration and
almost workmanlike in technique (they're almost
enamels) force you to think of Melville, with
whom he was more or less contemporary
(younger). Yes, the great A merica is there. And
now? Figari has everything: nostalgia , strength ,
humor.
Then Alfred Stieglitz, a kind of old American
Socrates. "As I get older, life seems more and
more beautifu l , but living is more and more
difficult. Don't hope for anything from A merica .
Are we an end or a beginning? I think we're an
end. I t's a country that doesn't know love . "
I n the evening. Circus. Four-ring. Everyone
performs at the same time . And I don't see
anything.
Tucci : H uman relationships are very easy
here because there are no human relationships.

44 AMERICAN JOURNALS

Everything stays on the surface. Out of

and from laziness.

respect

1 9 APR I L.

Another night on the Bowery . And the "elevated"

-we're in the front-which speeds along fi ve
stories above the ground, and the skyscrapers spin
slowly, and the machine swal lows the little red and
blue lights, is momentarily digested by the l ittle
stations and then takes off again towards more and
more miserable neighborhoods where there are
fewer and fewer cars in the streets.
Once again the Bowery Follies and the old
singers who end their careers performing here .
Enormous, with sweating, bloated faces-and
suddenly they start prancing around and the
bundles of unshapely flesh with which they are
covered start bouncing up and down. "I am a bird
in a gilded cage . " "I ain't got no ambition . " " I 'm
nobody's baby , " etc. The less ugly ones are not
popular. Either you have to be very beautiful or very
ugly. Even in ugliness there's such a thing as
mediocrity . And then the night. And, in an
atmosphere of squalor, these Rumanians who sing
and dance until they gasp for breath. Carried to
the lim its of an exalted world-and that
unforgettable face.

TH E UN ITED STATES 4 5

When you look from upper Riverside dow n

the highway that runs along the Hudson, the
uninterrupted line of smooth-run n i ng, wel l-oiled
cars creates a deep and distant song which is
exactly the sound of the waves.
In Phi ladelph ia, enormous gas tanks tower
over little cemeteries full of flowers.
Placid evenings on the vast lawns of
Washington, when the sky turns red and the grass
begi ns to darken-a host of Negro childre n ,
shrieking w i t h joy , playing stickba l l , while
Americans in unbuttoned shirts, slouched on
benches, having come straight from an old movie
house, with their last bit of energy suck at ice
creams molded into little paper cups, while
squirrels come to unearth tidbits at your feet, the
delicacy of which they alone appreciate. I n the one
hundred thousand trees of the city, a mil lion birds
greet the appearance of the first star i n the sti ll
clear sky above th e Washington monument, while
long-legged creatures mend their way through
the paths in the grass, in view of the grand
monuments, offering to the sky a momentary
relaxation of their imposing face and loveless gaze .
Plague:

without air.

it's a world without women and thus

46 A MERICAN JOURNALS

The one who is right is the one who has never

killed. So it can't be God .
I have suddenly ceased to be curious about
this country . Like certain people in whom , without
explanation , I suddenly lose in terest (F.
reproaches me for this). And I see clearly the
thousand reasons one can have for being
interested in this place, I would be capable of
presenting its defense and its apology , I can
reconstruct its beauty or its future, but my heart
has simply ceased speaking and . . .
Chinese theater in C h inatown. A large,
round, dusty hall. The show lasts from 6 to 11 P.M.
and is watched by 1500 Chinese who eat peanuts,
jabber, enter, exit, and follow the show with a
kind of steady distraction . Children run around in
the middle of the hall. On stage the costumed
actors work alongside musicians in street clothes
and suspenders who stop playing from time to
time to eat a sandwich or straigh ten a child's
trousers. Li kewise , during the action , stagehands
in vests and shirtsleeves enter to pick up the sword
that's fal len from the hands of someone who's
died, place a chair or take one away, all of which is
not really necessary . From time to time through
the doors that give onto the wings one sees the
actors chatting or following the action as they
await their cues.

TH E UNITED STATES

47

As for the play, the program being in

Chi nese , I tried to invent the subject . But I suspect
that I misinterpreted everything. Because just as a
brave man is dying on stage in a very realistic
fashion am idst the lamentations of his widow and
his friends, and I feel completely serious , the
public laughs. And when a kind of magistrate with
a grating voice makes a clownish entrance, I am
the only one who laughs, the rest of the audience
man i festing a kind of respectful attention . A kind
of butcher covered with blood kills a man. He
forces a young Chi nese man to carry the body.
The young man is so frightened that his knees
bang against each other . . .

F R 0 M N E W Y 0 R K T0 C A N A D A.

Large, clea n , spacious countryside with small and

large white-columned houses and tal l , strong trees
and lawns wh ich are never separated by fences so
that it's one lawn that belongs to everyone where
beautiful chi ldren and supple adolescents laugh in
a life fi l led with good things and rich creams.
Nature here contributes to the beauti ful American
fairy tales.
An accoun t of an American childhood and he
looks in vain for what his heart is seeking. He
resigns himself.

48 AMERICAN JOURNALS

The owl who was playing the drums at the

Bowery Follies.
Two beings love each other. But they don't
speak the same language. One of them speaks both
languages, but the second language very
imperfectly. It suffices for them to love each
other. But the one who k nows both languages
dies. And his last words are in his native tongue
which the other is unable to grasp. He searches, he
searches . . .
Small inn in the heart of the Adirondacks a
thousand m i les from everything. Entering my
room , this strange feeling: duri ng a business trip a
man arrives, without any preconceived idea, at a
remote i n n in the wi lderness. And there, the
silence of nature , the simplicity of the room, the
remoteness of everything, make h i m decide to stay
there permanently, to cut all ties with what had
been his life and to send no news of h imself to
anyone .
New England and Maine. The region of lakes
and red houses. Montreal and the two h i lls. A
Sunday. Boredom. Boredom. The only amusing
thing: the street cars which resemble, in their
form and the fact that they are gilded , carnival
chariots. This big country, calm and slow. One

THE UNITED STATES 49

feels that it has been completely unaware of the

war. I n the course of a few years Europe, which
was several centuries ahead i n knowledge, moved
several cen turies ahead in moral consciousness.
Remake and recreate Greek thought as a
revolt against the sacred . But not the revolt
against the sacred of the romantic-which is in
itself a form of the sacred-but revolt as putting
the sacred i n its place . 1 2
The idea o f messianism a t the base o f all
fanaticism . Messianism against man . Greek
thought is not h istorica l . The values are pre
existant. Against modern existentialism . u

Plague: Tarrou makes regular visits to the

Span ish dancers. Passion is his only love. Naturally
a man should fight. "But if he loves only that,
what's the use of fighting."
I n the American newspapers: A weapon more
frightening than the atomic bomb. "In certain
places in the M iddle Ages the black plague killed
60% of the population. We don 't know if
American scient ists have found a way to spread it,
but in China the Japanese failed . They had sown
the black plague in the rice crop."

50

AMERICAN JOURNALS

The stupendous Quebec countryside . At the

point of the Diamond Cape before the immense
breach of the Saint Lawrence , air, light , and water
i nterpenetrate in i n fi n ite proportions. For the first
time on this continent a real impression of beauty
and true magnitude. It seems that I would have
something to say about Quebec and its h istory of
men who came to struggle i n the wilderness,
driven by a force that was greater than they were.
But to what end? Now there are a lot of things that
artistically speaking I know I could make work. But
this no longer means anything to me. The only
thing that I want to say I have been incapable of
saying up until now and I will without a doubt
never say it.
Do a play about bureaucracy (as stupid in
America as elsewhere). 14
Even the Salvation Army advertises here. And
in their advertisements the Salvation women have
red cheeks and brilliant smi les . . .
Zaharo's 15 father. Polish. Slaps an officer at
fi fteen . Flees. Gets to Paris during Carnival. With
the little money he has, he buys confetti and sells
it. Th irty years later he has an enormous fortune
and a family. Completely illiterate; his son reads
whatever is at hand to him . He reads hi m Socrates'

THE UNITED STATES

51

Apology . "You'l l no longer read me any other

books, " says the father. "This one says
everything. " And ever since he always has this
book read to h i m . He detests judges and the
police.
Manhatta n. Sometimes from beyond the
skyscrapers, across the hundreds of thousands of
high walls, the cry of a tugboat finds you i n your
insomnia in the middle of the night, and you
remember that this desert of iron and cement is an
island . 1 6
The guy from the Holland Tunnel in New
York or the Sumner Tunnel in Boston. A l l day
long on a raised footbridge he counts the cars
which pass endlessly in a deafening din the whole
length of the violently lit tunnel which is too long
for him to be able to see either one of the exits.
This is the hero of a modern novel.
B. as an elevated kind of American . H is
psychology : ocean people love the mou ntains and
mountain people love the sea .
Rain on New York. 1 7 I t flows u n tiringly
between the high cement cubes. The tax i ' s rapid
and monotone windshield wipers sweep a water
which is incessantly reborn-bizarre feeling of

52

A MERICAN JOURNALS

remoteness. I mpression of being trapped in this

city, that I could escape from the monoliths that
surround me and run for hours without finding
anything but new cement prisons, without the
hope of a hill, a real tree, or a bewildered face.
B . 's father. Supreme Court judge in
Hamburg. His bedside reader is the German Chaix
Indicateur which gives the schedules of all the
trains in the entire world. 1 8 He knows it almost by
heart , and B. cites this anomaly with an admiration
absolutely devoid of irony .
New York rains.
I ncessant, sweeping
everything. And the skyscrapers in the grey haze
rise up whitened l i ke the immense sepulchers of
this city inhabited by the dead . Through the rain
one sees the sepulchers sway on their fou ndations.
Terrible feeling of bei ng abandoned . Even if I
hugged all the beings of the world to my breast, I
would remain unprotected.
Plague: To Tarrou :-Do you believe that you
know life total ly?

Tarrou :-Yes.

THE UN ITED STATES

'5 3

Revolt. Thorough analysis o f the Terror and

its relationship to bureaucracy . -Note that our
age marks the end of ideologies. The atom bomb
prohibits ideologies . 1 9
Julian Green wonders (Journal) i f i t i s possible
to imagine a saint who writes a novel . Naturally
not because there is no novel wi thout revolt. Or
one must imagine a novel which is an accusation of
earthly things and man-a novel absolutely
without love. Impossible.

A T S E A.

Slowness of this return voyage . The evenings at

sea and this passage from the setting sun to the
moon are the only moments when I feel my heart
a little relaxed. I will have always loved the sea . I t
will have always made everythi ng peaceful inside
me.
Terrible mediocrity of these people. Up until
now I haven't suffered once from the mediocrity
that may have surrounded me . Up u n t i l now. But
here , this int imacy is unbearable. And at the same
time, in everythi ng thi s somethi ng that cou ld go
very far, if only . . .

54

AMERICAN JOURNALS

Two young, beautiful creatures have started a

romance on this boat and immediately a kind of
nasty circle has closed around them . These
begi nnings of love! I love and approve of them
from the bottom of my heart-with even a feeling
of grati tude for those who preserve on this deck,
in the m iddle of the sun-glittering Atlantic,
halfway between two insane continents, these
truths which are youth and love.
But why not also give this name to the longing
that I feel in my heart and to the tumultuous
desire to find again the i mpatient heart that I had
at 20. But I know the remedy : I ' l l gaze for a long
time at the sea .
Sad to stil l feel so vulnerable. I n 2 5 years I ' l l
b e 5 7 . 2 5 years then t o create a body of work and
to find what I ' m looking for. After that, old age
and death. I know what is the most important for
me. And I still find a way to give in to little temp
tations, wasting time on frivolous conversations or
fruitless idling about. I ' ve mastered two or three
thi ngs in myself. But how far I am from the kind
of superiority that I so badly need .
Marvelous night on the Atlantic. This hour
when the sun has disappeared and the moon has
just barely been born , when the west is stil l

THE UN ITED STATES

55

luminous and the east i s already dark . Yes, I ' ve

loved the sea very much-this calm immensity
these wakes folded under wakes-these l iquid
routes. For the fi rst time a horizon that measures
up to the breath of a man , a space as large as his
audacity. I 've always been torn between my
appet ite for people, the vanity and the agitation,
and the desire to make myself the equal of these
seas of forgetful ness, these unlimited silences that
are l i ke the enchantment of death . I have a taste
for worldly vanities, my fellows, for faces but, out
of step with this century, I have an example in
myself which is the sea and anything in this world
wh ich resem bles it. 0 sweetness of nights where a l l
the stars sway a n d sl ide above the masts, a n d t h i s
si lence in myself, this si lence w h i c h fi nally frees
me from everything.

South America

30 JUNE

sea. Exhausting day. R. and I drive ful l speed to

reach Marseille on time. Desdemona 1 comes
through . In Marseil le, torrid heat and, at the same
time, a wind that' l l blow your head off. Even na
ture is an enemy. Cabin to myself. I wait for the
departure, walking the decks and corridors. Feel
ing of shame, seeing the 4th class passengers
lodged in the hold on bunks stacked one on top of
the other, concentration camp style. Dirty diapers
At

57

58

AMERICAN JOURNALS

hanging. Some c h i ldren are going to live for 20

days in t h i s h e l l . And me . . . The s h i p l i fts anchor

2 hours late. D i n ner. A t my table G. , Professor of

H istory and P h i losophy at the Sorbon ne-a small
young man who's goi n g to meet his fam i l y i n Ar
gen t i n a , and Mme.

C.

who's going to meet

h usba n d . She's from Marse i l l e , a tall brunette.

her
She

says a n y t h i n g that comes i n to her head-and

sometimes i t ' s amusing. Other ti mes . . . A t
rate, she's a l i v e . The others are dead-and

any
me

too , after a l l . After dinner, G. , who has made a llu

sions to the condition of the plague-stricken , i ntro
duces me to a Bra z i l i a n professor and h i s w i fe as
" the author of

The Plague. " I

look healthy! I n

the

" m usic h a l l " (wh ere they could have eas i l y accom
modated half of the 4 t h c lass e m i grants), G. enter
ta i n s us w i t h dood les on

the s h i pboard piano

which see m s to have shot all i t s rod s . Then a con

versation . Eulogy of Salazar by t h e B r a z i l i a n pro
fessor . M m e .

C.

m a k es two enormous blunders

try i n g to persuade the Bra z i l i a n s that there ' s a rev

olution every day in South A m e r i c a . I overhear
" S h e was from the work i n g-class , about as low as
you can get , " a n d other gem s . I say goodbye and
leave . In t h e stern , w h ere I take refuge, the emi
gra n t s are dri n k i n g wine from a goatsk i n and sing
ing.

stay w i t h t h e m , u n k n o w n a n d h appy (for

ten

seconds) . T h e n I go look at the sea . A sl iver of

moon rises above t h e m a s t s . A s far as one can

see,

SOUTH AMERICA

59

in the n o t y e t opaque n i g h t , t h e sea-a nd a fee l i n g

of ca l m , a powerfu l melancholy rises i n t h i s mo
ment from the waters. I ' ve a l ways been calm at
sea , and for a m o m e n t this i n fi n i t e s o l i t ude i s good
for me, a l t hough today I have t h e i m pression that
t h i s sea i s made of a l l t h e tears i n the wor l d . I re
turn to my cabin to write t h i s-as I would l i ke to
do every even i n g , say i n g not h i n g i n t i mate, but for
gett i n g not h i n g of the day ' s even t s . Turned to
wards what I have left , m y heart anxious, I would
nonetheless like to sleep.

J ULY 1 ST
Waking up with a fever, I stay in bed , drea m i n g
and d o z i n g for p a r t of the morn i n g . A t I I I feel
better and go out. G. on the dec k . We talk about
philosoph y . H e wants to do the p h i l osophy of the
h istory of p h i losophy. H e ' s dead righ t . But accord
ing to h i m , h e ' s remained you n g and loves to l i v e .
H e ' s r i g h t aga i n . L u n c h w i t h my t h ree m uske
teers . M m e .

C.

blu nders aga i n , asking G. i f he's

h i gh school teacher, when in fact h e ' s a professor

at the Sorbonne. But she does n ' t rea l i ze it. I notice
the attitude that men have towards her. They
t h i n k she's superficial because she's merry . N a tu
ral l y , this is an error . In the a fternoon I read an
accoun t of the Brazi lian revolutions-Europe is
nothing. At five o'clock I go work i n the su n . The

60 AMERICAN JOURNALS
sun crushes the sea , w h ic h hardly breathes, and
from bow to stern the boat is fu l l of silent people.
I n revenge the boa t ' s loudspeaker blasts banalities
to the four corners of the earth . I am i n t roduced
to a young Rumanian woman w h o ' s left England
to go live i n Arge n t i n a . A passionate one-neither
beautifu l nor ugly , and a light m usta.c he. I go read
in my cabi n , then get dressed for dinner. Sad. I
drink w i n e . A fter d i n n e r , conversation , but

look

at the sea and try once aga i n to fix the image that
I ' ve been see k i n g for twenty years for t hese pat
terns and dra w i n gs made on the sea by the water
thrown u p by the stem . 2 When I find it, i t ' l l be fin
ished .
Twice, the idea of suicide. The second time,
still look ing at the sea , I feel a dreadfu l burning in
my temples. I think I u nderstand now

how one

kills

onese l f. Conversation agai n-a lot of words, not

much said. I n the darkness I c l i m b to the upper
dec k , a n d , after h a v i n g made some decisions about
work, fi n i s h the day fac i n g the sea , the moon , and
the sta rs . T h e surface of the waters are slightly il
l u m i nated , but you feel their profound darkness.
That's the way the sea is, and that's w h y I love it! A
call to l i fe and an i n v i tation to death .

SOUTH AMERICA 6 1

J ULY 2
Monotony settles i n . A l i t t le work t h i s morn i n g .
Sun on the upper dec k . Before l u n c h I end up
being introduced to all the passengers . W e ' re not
spoi led by a surplus of pretty wome n , but I say it
without bitterness . The sea suddenly ca l m , we
spend a l l afternoon i n front of Gibraltar, t h i s
enormous rock with c e m e n t i n c l i nes and an ab
stract, hostile gu llet. Then Tangiers w i t h its soft
white houses. At six o'clo<. k , as the day ends, the
sea rises a little and w h i l e the loudspeakers blast
the

Eroica ,

we leave the haughty l i m its of Spa i n

and leave Europe for good . I can ' t stop loo k i n g a t

the land , my heart oppressed .
A fter d i n n e r , a fi l m . A h igh-powered A meri
can dud . I can only stomach the fi rst few images. I
return to the sea .

J ULY 3
These days are relentless. This morn i n g a swim i n
the pool ( t h e water comes up to my stomach) a n d
ping-pong w here I fi n a l l y ma nage to stretch my
muscles. This a fternoon horse rac i n g (with dice)
and my usual bad luck. We're on the A t l a n t i c , the
sea is high and the boat rolls a lot. Tried to work
but without much success. F i n a l l y , I read V igny ' s

62

A MER ICAN JOURNALS

diaries where many thi ngs enchant me, but not the
side of h i m that's like a constipated swa n . And
above all I prefer this neat l ittle cab i n , this hard
b u n k , and this destitution . Either this stripped
down sol itude or the storm of love-noth i n g else
i n the world i n terests me. Have I forgotten any
thing? I don ' t t h i n k so. As usual I fi n ish the day
before the sea , sumptuous this even i n g beneath
the moon , which writes A rab symbols with phos
phorescen t streaks on the slow swells. There is no
end to the sky and the waters. How well they ac
company sadness!

JULY 4
Same day . Made worse by drowsiness-as if this
long series of i n somniac n i ghts were suddenly
catch i n g up w i t h m e . Several t i m es d u r i n g the day
I lie down and fa l l asleep even though last night
was a good o n e . M e a n w h i l e , work , poo l , sun (at 2
A.M.

because the rest of t h e t i m e i t ' s a frog pond)

and V i g n y . I find lots of t h i ngs i n i t w h i c h coi ncide

with m y state of m i n d . And t h i s aga i n : " I f suicide
is permitted, i t ' s in one of those s i t uations where,
i n the m idst of a fa m i ly , a man is unwanted, and
h i s death will bring peace to those for whom his
l i fe i s noth i n g b u t a problem . " I must say , how
ever, that tanned, rested , wel l-fed, and dressed in
w h i t e , I possess all the s i gn s of l i fe . It seems to me
that I could be attrac t i v e . But to whom?

SOUTH AMERICA 63

I n front o f the sea , before going to bed . This

time the moon l i ghts up a corridor of sea w h i c h ,
with t h e movement of the s h i p , see m s , i n the dark
ocea n , to be an abundant and m i l k y river descend
ing relentlessly towards u s . 3 D u r i n g the day I have
already tried to jot down some aspects o f the sea :

Morning

sea :

I m mense fish pond-heavy and

wriggli ng-sca ly-sticky-covered w i t h cool drib

ble.4

Noon

sea :

pale-large i ron p l a t e t u r n i n g w h i te

-grey i n g also- i t ' s goi n g to turn over abruptly to

o ffer the sun i t s h u m i d side, now i n the obscure
shadows . . . etc . 5
Good n i gh t .

J ULY 5
Morning some swim m i n g , some su n , and then
some work . At noon we pass the Tropic of Cancer
beneath a vertical sun that k i l l s every shadow .
However, i t ' s not excessively h o t . But the sky is
fu l l of a nasty haze and the sun looks l i k e a sick
ness . The sea looks l i k e an enormous swe l l i n g w i t h
the meta l l i c bri l l iance of decay . I n the afternoo n , a
great even t : we pass a s h i p t h a t ' s fol lo w i n g the
same route we are . The greet i n g that the two sh ips

64 AMERICAN JOURNALS

give each other w i t h t h ree grand preh istoric a n i

mal roars , the waving of the passen gers lost at sea
and alert to the presence of other h u m a n beings,
the i rrevocable separation on the gree n , malevo
lent waters-all that weighs on the heart a l i ttle.
A fterwards I rema i n staring at the sea for a long
time, fu l l of a strange and good exaltation . A fter
d i n ner I go to the bow . The e m i grants play the ac
cord ion and dance in the n i g h t , where the heat
seems to mount as if i t were day.

J ULY 6
The day ri ses on a steely sea , storm y , and full of
blinding flakes of l i g h t . The sky is w h ite with haze
and heat , a dead but u nbearable bri l l iance, as if
the sun had been l i q u i fied and spread out i n the
thickness of the clouds over the whole expanse of
the celestial skullcap. As t h e day advances, the
heat bui lds in the l i v i d a i r . All day long the stem
flushes out swarms of fly i n g fish from their wave
bushes. At 7 in the even i n g the coast appears,
gloomy and leprous. We disembark into the night
at Dakar. Two or th ree cafes v i o l e n t l y l i t with
neon , the ta l l , a d m i rably digni fied and elegant
N egroes in their long w h i te robes, the Negresses
in brigh tly colored , trad i t ional dresses, the smell
of pea nuts and d u n g , dust and heat. Only a few
hours, but I find once aga i n the odor of my A frica,

SOUTH AMERICA 6 5

an odor o f misery and abando n , a virgin b u t also

strong odor wh ose seductiveness I know. When I
get back on board the boa t , a letter. For the first
time I go to bed slightly pac ified .

JULY 7
N ight of insom n i a . Heat. S w i m m i n g pool and then
I come back and stretch out i n my cabi n . V i g n y ,
which I fi n i s h . After breakfast I t r y i n vain t o
sleep . I w o r k u n t i l

w i t h good resu lts. A n d then I

follow-on the deck-this stran ge character that I

have observed since the begin n i n g of the voyage .
Even in the Tropics a lways dressed in a dark grey
su i t , stiff col lar, peaked cap, black shoes ,

60

years

old. Smal l , t h i n , looks l i k e a self-wil led !"at. A lone

i n the d i n i n g roo m , h i s lounge chair a lways i n the
same place on the dec k , he reads not h i n g but

Nouvelles litteraires

Les

of w h i c h he seems to have an

inexhaustible supply and wh ich he reads from be

gi n n i n g to end. He smokes c i gar after c i ga r and
speaks to no one. The only conversation that I ' ve
heard him have was with a sailor whom he asked
whether porpoises were fat or lea n . Sometimes it
also happens that he'll drink (pastis) with a young
German-spea k i n g Swiss who doesn ' t spea k French .
And he does n ' t speak German . T h i s makes for a
conversation of deaf-mutes. This even i n g , w h i l e I
wal ked around the deck four times, I noticed that

66 AMERICAN JOURNALS

not once did he look at the sea . N o one on board

knows what kind of work h e does.
Before dinner, I watch the sun go dow n . But
it is absorbed by the haze well before reach i n g the
horizon . A t this moment the sea is pink on the
port side and blue starboard. We proceed through
a l i m i t less expanse. There won ' t be any land be
fore R i o . Suddenly the eveni n g hour is marvelous.
The thick water looks slightly tarnished . The sky
expands. A n d then during the hour when the
tranq u i l lity

is

greatest,

h undreds

of porpoises

spri n g out of the water, prance about for a mo

ment, and flee towards a hori zon without men.
Once they've gone, i t ' s silence and the anguish of
the primitive seas. A fter dinner, I come back to
face the sea a t the bow of the boat. It's sumptuous,
heavy and embroidered. The wind w h ips my face
bruta l l y , com i n g at me head o n , a fter traversing
spaces the extent of which I can ' t even imagine. I
feel alone and a little lost , finally delighted and
feel i n g l ittle by little the rebirth of my strength i n
the face of t h i s u n k nown future a n d t h i s immens
ity w h ich I love.

o J ULY 8
N i ght of insom n i a . A l l day long I have a hollow
head and an empty heart. The sea is rough . The

SOUTH AMERICA 67

sky is covered . The decks are deserted . S i nce

Dakar, there are only twenty passengers left . Too
tired to describe the sea today .

JULY 9
Better n i gh t . I n the morn i n g I stroll on the big
empty decks. The trade w i n ds that we run i n to
now have made it cooler. A short and sturdy wind
brushes the sea which twists upwards i n smal l ,
foam less waves.
A l i ttle wor k , a lot of idling about . I notice
that I ' m not writing down conversations with the
passengers .

Even

though some of them-with

Dela m a i n , the publ isher, and h i s wife-are i n ter

esti n g . Read a charm i n g novel about fidelity by
h i m . I ' ll get back to i t . But i t ' s also that my i n terest
at this moment is not really di rected towards peo
ple but towards the sea and this profound sadness
in myself to wh ich I am not accustomed .
At 6

P . M ..

at sunse t , t h i s even i n g as a l ways, rec

ords of great music. Sudde n l y the Toccata , just a t

t h e moment w h e n the s u n disappears beh i n d t h e
clouds accumulated on t h e l i ne of the h o r i zon . I n
t h e operatic s k y , i m mense red tra i l s , black plush ,
fragile arc h i tectures, w h i c h seem to be made of
wire and feathers, are set in a vast arrangement of

68 AMER ICA N JOUR NALS

reds, greens, and blacks-covering the whole sky,
evolving i n an always changing light, fol lowing
the most majestic choreograph y . The Toccata , on
this sleeping sea , beneath the festivals of this royal
sky . . . the moment is u n forgettable. To such an
extent that the entire ship grows quiet, the passen
gers crowded against the western railing of the
dec k , recal led to silence and to that which i s most
real in them , removed for a moment from the pov
erty of days and the pai n of being.

J ULY 1 0
We pass the equator i n the morning, i n Parisian
weather-cool, a little harsh , a fleecy sky, the sea
slightly ruffled . The equator ceremony having
been cancelled for lack of passengers, we replace
the ritual w i t h several water games in the swim
ming poo l . And then a moment with the emi
grants who are playi n g the accordion and singing
i n the bow of the ship, turned towards the desolate
sea . Once more I notice amongst them a woman
whose hair is turn i n g grey, a woman of superb
class , a soft , proud , and beautifu l face, hands and
wrists l i k e stems, and a n unequaled sense of style.
A l ways fol lowed by her husba n d , a tal l , blond, taci
turn m a n .

I n formation gathered-she's fleeing

Poland and the Russians and is seeking exile in

South America. She is poor. But looking at her, I

SOUTH AMER ICA 69

t h i n k of the well-dressed but vulgar matrons who

occupy several of the

fi rst-class cabi n s .

still

haven ' t dared to spea k to her.

Calm day . Except for a big champagne dinner
i n honor of pass i n g the equator. I f there are more
than four peop l e , soc ial gatherings are hard for
me to stomac h . A story of M m e . C . ' s : Her grand
mother: "As for me, i n my l i fe , you see , I ' ve only
s k i m med over the surface of t h i n gs . " Her grand
father: " Come now , my dea r , you ' v e nonetheless
borne me two sons!"
After d i n ner we passen gers are treated to a
Laurel and Hardy. But I flee to the bow to con
template the moon and the Southern Cross to
wards w h i c h we ceaselessly advance .

Surprised

to see how few stars, and those almost anemic

loo k i n g ,

in

t h i s southern

sky.

t h i n k of our

Algerian n i g h t s , swarm i n g with stars.

Stayed a long time look i n g at the sea . Despite
a l l my efforts and reaso n i n g s , i m possible to shake
this sadness which I do not understand at a l l .

JU LY 1 1
Day brea ks i n the m iddle of the Pot au N o i r6 be
neath a driving rai n . The rain pours in buckets

70 AMERICAN JOURNALS

over the deck s , but the temperature remains sti

fl i n g , dead l y . In t h e middle of t h e day the sky
clears, but t h e sea is rough and the ship pitches
and rol l s . Some people don ' t make it to the d i n i n g
roo m . Worked . Bad l y . Little by l i t t l e towards eve
n i n g the sky clouds up agai n , th ickens from min
ute to minute. N ig h t descends, very q u i c k l y , onto
an i n k-black sea .

JULY 1 2
R a i n , w i n d , fu rious sea . Some people are sick . The
ship advances surrounded by the smoky sea-spra y .
S l e p t and worked . Towards the end of the a fter
noon the sun appears . W e ' re already at the lati
tude of Pernambouc and heading towards the
coast. In the even ing the sky is overcast aga i n .
Tragic skies come to greet us from t h e continent
-messengers from a dreadfu l shore . It's an idea
that comes to me sudde n l y , reawakening the ab
surd apprehension that I had before sett i n g out on
this trip. But a little sun will clear up every t h i n g .

J ULY 1 3
A radi a n t sun floods t h e spaces of t h e sea . And the
en tire boat is bathed i n a dazz l i n g l i gh t . S w i m m i n g
pool , su n . A n d I w o r k a l l afternoo n . The even i n g

SOUTH AMERICA 7 1

is cool and sweet. We arrive i n two days. A l l of a

sudden the idea of leaving this ship-this narrow
cabin where during long days I was able to shelter
a heart cut off from everyt h i ng, this sea w h ich har.
been such a help to me-frightens me a l i t t l e . To
begin living aga i n , spea k i n g . People, faces, a role
to play . I ' l l need more courage than I feel capable
of. Fortunatel y ,

I'm

i n good shape physica l l y .

There a r e moments, however, when I w o u l d l i k e

to a v o i d o t h e r human bei ngs .
Late at n i gh t , on the sleeping boa t , I watch
the n i g h t . The curious austral moon , with its flat
tened summ i t , l i ghts up the waters towards the
sou t h . One imagines the thousands of ki lometers,
these sol i tudes where t h e thick and brilliant waters
are like oily fields. This at least would be peace.

J ULY 1 4
Endless good weather. I fi n ish up m y work , at least
the work that I was able to ma nage on sh ipboard,
the rest bei n g i m possible under t h ese cond itions.
I n the afternoo n , several hundred meters away, an
enormous black beast rises to the surface , rides
several waves and spouts two jets of water spra y .
The waiter who is n e a r me con firms that i t ' s
a w h a l e . And w i t h o u t

doubt the size , the awe

some power of its s w i m m i n g , its aura of solitary

72

AMERICAN JOURNALS

beast . . . but I remain skeptica l . In the afternoon,

mail and suitcases. In the evening the Captain's
reception and d i n ner for the 1 4t h of July. For the
first time a sunset without haze. Right and left the
sun is bracketed by the first c l i ffs of Bra z i l , black
facades. We dance, sign menus, exchange cards,
and promise that w e ' l l all meet aga i n , cross our
hearts. Tomorrow everyone w i l l have forgotten
everyone else. I go to bed late, tired and reasoning
with myself to re lax a l i ttle for my encounter with
t h i s coun try .

JULY 1 5
At

A.M.

a racket on the upper deck awakens me. I

get up. I t ' s still dark . But the coast is very near:
blac k , even h i l ls with very c lear outlines, but the
o u t l i nes are soft , round-old profiles of one of the
oldest continents on t h e planet . In the d istance,
l i gh t s . W h i l e the darkness l i fts, we fol low the
coast , the water q u i vers only slightly, we tack
about and now the l ights are opposite us but very
distan t . I return to my cabi n . When I go back up,
we are a l ready i n the bay, immense and smoking a
l i t t l e in the newborn day w i t h the sudden conden
sa tions of l i g h t w h i c h are the islands. The mist dis
appears rapid l y . And we see the lights of Rio run
n i n g all along the coast , the " Sugar Loa f ' with
four lights on its summit a n d , on the peak of the

SOUTH AMER ICA

73

highest of the mounta i n s , which seem to crush the

city, an enormous and unfortunate i l l u m i nated
Christ. As the light gradua lly i ncreases , we get a
better view of the city, squeezed between the sea
and

the

mounta i n s ,

spread

out

lengthwise,

stretched out endlessly . I n the center enormous

buildings. Every m i nute a roa r above our heads:
an airplane takes off i n the daw n i n g day, at fi rst
i nextricably blended with the hues of the land,
then rising i n our direction and passing above us
with its great insect buzzing. We're i n the middle
of the basin and the mountains make an al most
perfect circle around us. Finally, a blood-red light
an nounces the arrival of the sun, which rises up
beh i n d the eastern mountains opposite the city
and begins to ascend i n to a pale, cool sky. The
rich ness and sumptuousness of the colors that play
on the bay , the mountains, and the sky once again
i nduce everyone to silence. One m i n u te later the
colors seem to be the same, but it's a postcard. Na
ture abhors m i racles that last too long.
Formalities. Then disembarking. Right away
it's the w h i r l w i n d that I was afraid of. Some j our
nal ists have already come on board . Quest ions,
photos. Neither worse nor better than anyw here
else. But once i n Rio, with M m e . M. and a famous
Brazilian journ a l i st-al ready met him

in

Paris,

very n ice-the calvary begi ns. In the confusion of

a first day , I notice by chance:

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A MERICAN JOURNALS

1 . They ask me to choose between a room at

the embassy , which is deserted , and one of the
many luxury hotels. I flee the nasty-looking hotel,
and congratulate myself on finding a simple and
most charmi n g room i n the completely empty em
bassy .

2 . Brazilian dri vers are either joyous madmen

or icy sadists. The confusion and anarchy of this
traffic are regu lated by only one law: get there
first, no matter what the cost.

3. There is a stri k i n g contrast between the

l u x u rious display of palaces and modern buildings
and the shanty town s , w h i c h are someti mes sepa
rated from each other by no more than a h undred
yard s ; the shanty tow n s , stuck to the sides of the
h i l l s , with neither water nor light, are home to an
i m poverished

popu lation

of

both

blacks

and

wh ites. The women go for water at the foot of the

h i l l s , where they wait i n line, and they bri n g i t
back i n pa i l s w h i c h t h e y carry on t h e i r heads like
the women of Kaby l i a . 7 W h i le they w a i t , an unin
terrupted stream of c h romed and s i l e n t beasts
from the American automobile industry pa s ses i n
fron t of them . N ever h a v e I seen wea lth and pov
erty so i n solently i n tertw ined. It is true that, ac
cord i n g to one of my compa n i o n s , "at least they
have a good time . " Regret and cynicism

only B.

SOUTH AMERICA

75

generous. H e ' l l take m e t o the shanty towns that

he knows we l l : " I 've been a cri m i nal reporter and
a com m u n i st , " he say s . "Two good reasons to
know the neighborhoods of m isery . "
4 . People. Lunch w i t h M m e . M . , B . , and a
kind of notary , t h i n , c u l t ivated and spiritual-!
can only remember h i s u n usual first name, A n n i
bal-at a coun try club w h i c h perfectly resembles
its name: ten n i s , lawns, you n g people. A n n ibal has
six daugh ters , a l l of whom are pretty. He says that
i n Brazil the m i x t u re of religion and love i s very
i n teresting.

To a Brazilian professor who had

translated Baudelaire, A n n ibal sent the following

telegra m : " Kindly retra n slate me back i n to French
i m mediatel y . Signed: Baudelaire . " H e resembles
many of these very refined Spaniards that one
meets i n the Spanish provinces.
5. One of the t hree or four Brazilian battle
ships that I was shown , and that seem to me to be a
little out of date , is called

Terror do Mondo.

It has

seen service i n several revolutions.

6.

Peopl e . A fter lunch a reception at M m e .

M ' s . Beautifu l apartment on t h e bay . T h e after

noon is soft on the waters. A lot of peop l e , but I
forget the names. A translator of Moliere w h o a
colleague tells me added an act to

The Imaginary

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AMERICAN JOURNALS

Inva lid,

w h ich was not long enough to make a play

out of. A Polish p h i losopher from whom heave n ,

i f it is merc i fu l , w i l l protect m e . A young French
biologist on m ission here , furiously appea l i n g and
nice. A bove a l l some young people from a black
theater troupe w h o want to put on

Caligula;

prom ise to work w i t h them . W i t h my frightful

Spanish I manage to reach an agreement with one
of them w h o spea ks Spanish : on Su nday

will

go with them to a N egro bal l . He's deligh ted with

the trick w e ' re playing on m y official hosts with
such a rendezvous and h e keeps repeat i n g to me:
" Segreto. Segreto . "

7 . Just when I t h i n k every t h i n g i s fi n i shed,

M m e . M. an nou nces that I ' m d i n i n g w i t h a

Bra

z i l i a n poe t . I say not h i n g , promising myself that

start i n g tomorrow I ' l l cut every t h i n g that isn't in
dispensabl e . And I consent with resignation.

But

in no way did I expect the ordeal that was to fol

low . Enormous, i ndolen t , folds of flesh around his
eyes , h i s mouth hanging ope n , the poet arrives.
A n x ieties, a sudden movemen t , then he spi l l s him
self into an easy chair and stays there a l i ttle while,
panting. He gets u p , does a pirouette and falls
back down into the easy chair. H e talks about

Ber

nanos ,8 Mauriac , Brisso n , Halevy.9 Apparently he

knows everybody . H e ' s been treated badly . He's
not in vol ved i n Franco-Brazi lian pol i tics, but with

SOUTH A M ER I CA

77

some Frenchmen he created a fert i l i zer factory .

Besides h e ' s never bee n decorated . I n t h i s cou ntry
they ' ve decorated a l l the enemies of France. But
not him, etc . , etc.
He dreams for a momen t , s u ffe r i n g visibly
from God knows w h a t , and fi n a l l y su rrenders the
conversation to a senor who seizes hold of it
greedily . Because this is a senor l i ke the ones who
wal ked their gracefu l dogs on the Calle Major in
Palma, Mal lorca 1 0 before goi n g to watc h , with the
pleasure of connoisseurs, the executions of ' 3 6 . H e
rattles on a b o u t every t h i n g : I should s e e t h i s , d o
t h a t , Brazil is a cou n t ry wh ere o n e does not h i n g
b u t work , no v i c e s , no t i m e for them , we work , w e
work , and Bernanos t o l d h i m , and Bernanos cre
ated in t h i s country a way of l i v i n g , a h : we love
France so much . . .
A ppalled by the prospect of t h i s o u t i n g , I per
suade the young biologist to come to dinner with
us. I n t h e car
taura n t .

And

ask that we not go to a deluxe res

the poet emerges from

his

300

pounds a n d tells m e , w i t h raised fin ger : " T h ere i s

no deluxe in Brazi l . We a r e poor, m i serabl e , " as
he affectionately taps the shoulder of the chauf
feur in l i very w h o ' s driving h i s enormous C h rys
ler. And having said t h i s , the poet s i g h s pa i n fu l l y
and returns to h i s n e s t of fl e s h where he beg i n s

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AMERICAN JOURNALS

distractedly gnawing at one of his complexes. The

senor shows u s Rio which is on the same latitude as
M adagascar and oh so much more beautiful than
Tananari ve. " Everyone ' s a worker , " he repeats,
slouched against h i s cushion. But the poet stops
the car i n front of a pharmacy, with great effort
drags h i mself from his sea t , and asks us to k indly
wait a couple of m i n u tes for him-he's goi n g to
get an i njection .
We wait, and the senor com ments: " Poor fel
low, h e ' s diabet ic . "
" I s i t get t i n g worse?" L e target asks politely .
Ah yes!
" I t ' s get t i n g worse . "
The poet ret u r n s , w h i m peri n g , a n d collapses
on h i s poor cush ion in h i s m i serable c a r . We land
i n a resta urant near t h e market-where t h ey serve
o n l y fi s h - i n a quadra n g u l a r , h i gh-ce i l i n ged room
w h i c h is so bru t a l l y l i t w i t h neon t h a t we all look
l i ke pale fi sh floa t i n g t h rou gh u n real waters. The
senor w a n t s to order for me. But I ' m exhausted
a n d , w a n t i n g to eat l i g h t l y , I refuse every t h i n g he
su ggest s . The poet i s served fi rst , and w i t hout
w a i t i n g for us, h e begi n s eati n g , some t i m e s using
his short , fat fi n gers i n s tead of his for k . H e talks
abou t

Michaux , 1 1

Superv i e l l e , 12

B e guin , l '

etc . ,

SOUTH AMERICA

79

stopping from t i m e to t i m e to spit-s i t t i n g stra i g h t

up-bones and m o r s e l s of fi sh i n t o h i s p l a t e . I t ' s
t h e fi rst t i m e I ' ve ever seen t h i s operation done
without the person bend i n g over his plate. M arvel
ously s k i l l ful for the most pa r t , he only m i sses h i s
p l a t e once . But then we ' re served , and I s e e t h a t
the senor has ordered fried s h r i m p for m e , w h ich
I refuse, expla i n i n g , i n what I believe to be a
friendly manner, t h a t I k now t h i s d i s h because i t ' s
q u i t e common i n A l ge r i a . The senor gets a n gry
over t h i s . T h e y ' re only try i n g to please me, t h a t ' s
a l l . V e r y h u m b l y , i n fac t , v e r y h u m b l y . I mustn ' t
look i n Bra z i l for what I have i n France, etc . , etc.
Rising up out of m y fa t i gue a stupid a n ger over
comes me, and I push back fro m the table to get
up and leave . Letarge t ' s k i n d i n tervention and a l so
the sympathy t h a t I feel despite every t h i n g for t h i s
curious poet hold me bac k , a n d I make a n effort t o
c a l m myself. " A h , " s a y s the poe t , s u c k i n g h i s fi n
gers, "in Bra z i l one needs a lot of patience , a lot of
patience . " I simply rep l y , i n order to get i t off my
chest, t h a t i t does n ' t seem to me t h a t u p until now
I ' ve been lacking i n patience. A s q u i c k l y and as i r
rationa l l y as he got exci ted , t h e senor now calms
dow n , and to smooth t h i ngs over he overpowers
me with com p l i ments that leave me speechless. A l l
of Bra z i l awa its me feverish l y . M y v i s i t i s the most
i m portant thing t h a t ' s happened i n this country
for many years . I ' m as fa mous as Proust . . .

80 AMERICAN JOURNALS

There ' s no stoppi n g h i m now. But fi n a l l y he fin

ishes w i t h : " I t ' s for t h i s reason that you should be
patient w i t h Brazi l . Brazi l needs your patience. Pa
tience . . . t h a t ' s w h a t ' s necessary in Brazil . . . " and
so on . Despite every t h i n g the rest of the meal is
ca l m , even t h ough the poet and the sefior toss off
constant asides in Portuguese , a n d I sense that
t h e y ' re compla i n i n g about me. A s for the rest,
t h ese bad man ners are d i sp layed so naturally that
the whole t h i n g becomes rather frien d l y . Leaving
the restaurant the poet declares h i mself in need of
a cup of coffee. H e drives us to his c l ub-an imita
tion of an English c l ub-where I consent to drink
a " rea l " cognac for which I have absolutely no de
sire . The senor lau nches i n to an explanation of
the a d m i n istrative d i fficulties of t h e

Figaro,

which

I a l ready know very wel l , but no matter; he contin

ues w i t h a perem ptory description w h i c h is com
pletely fa lse . In fact C h a m fort is righ t : i f you want
to succeed i n society you have to let people who
don ' t know a n y t h i n g teach you a lot of t h i n gs you
a l ready know . I say that I want to leave.
T h e senor poi n t s t ri u mphantly a t t h e poet,
who's spread out i n his easy chair beh i n d a mon
strous cigar: " S . i s the greatest Bra z i l i a n poet . "
T o w h ic h t h e poe t , wea k l y waving h i s cigar,
replies i n a pa i n ed voice: " T here is no greatest
Brazi l ian poet . "

SOUTH AMERICA 8 1

I n t h e vest i b u l e , j u st when I t h i n k i t ' s fi n ished ,

the poet sudde n l y becomes a n i mated and grabs m y
arm . " Do n ' t move , " h e s a y s to m e . " O bserve w i t h
a l l y o u r fac u l t i e s . I ' m go i n g to s h ow you a c h a rac
ter from one of your nove l s . "
We see on t h e sidewa l k a smal l , t h i n m a n , fe
dora askew, sharp features . The poet h u rries to
wards h i m , gobbles h i m up in a long, Brazilian h u g
and says to m e : " T h i s is a m a n . H e is D e p u t y of t h e
I n terior. But h e is a m a n . "
The other replies t h a t Federico i s excessively
kind.
The senor j u mps i n t o t h e ga m e . M ore hugs,
t h i s time between equ a l s , since t h e senor is a feath
erwei g h t . A n d the senor p u l l s back the depu t y ' s
ves t : " Look . "
The deputy i s carryi n g a revolver i n a hand
some holster. We con t i n u e o n our way.
" H e ' s k i l led a t least 40 men , " t h e poet says,
fu l l of admiration . " A nd w h y?- Enemies . "
Ah!
" Yes, h e k i l led one, t o o k c o v e r beh i n d the
cadaver, and k i l led t h e others . "

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AMERICAN JOURNALS

" H e ' s authori zed to carry a r m s , " Letarget

says without fl i n c h i n g , " because h e ' s a deputy . "
Loo k i n g a t m e , the poet says: " I s n ' t h e a c har
acter for you?"
" Y e s , " I say.
But he's m istaken- h e ' s the one w h o ' s the
c h a racter.

J ULY 1 6
Get up early. Work . I put m y notes i n order . Con
versa t i o n with the w a i ter w h o ' s serv i n g me. H e ' s
from N i ce. H e wants t o go to North A merica be
cause he t h i n k s t h e G . l . ' s are nice. U nable to ob
t a i n an i m m igration v i s a , he came to Bra z i l , t h i n k
i n g that once here it would be easier to get his
v i sa . It's not easier. I ask h i m what h e wants to do
i n t h e U n i ted States. He's torn between boxi n g
and s i n g i n g . F o r t h e t i m e bei n g h e ' s tra i n i n g to be
a boxe r . I ' l l go w i t h h i m Monday to h i s gym .
L u n c h with Barleto in t h e horne of a Bra z i l ia n
woma n , a novelist and translator. C h a r m i n g house
on t h e side of a h i l l . N a t u ra l l y there are a lot of
peop l e , and among them a novel i s t who i s said to
have written the Brazi l i a n Buddenbrooks, but who
m a n i fests a curious c u l tura l ignorance. If I a m to

SOUTH .AMERICA 8 3

believe B . , t h e novelist w a s heard to s a y " English

authors l i ke S h a kespeare , Byron , or David Cop
perfield . " At the same t i m e h e ' s obviously well
rea d . Since i t doesn ' t matter to me i f he m i stakes
David for Charles, I fi n d him very i n t e l l igen t . A t
l u n c h the Bra z i l i a n couscous t u r n s out to be fi s h
c a k e s . W h e n I ask to s e e a soccer gam e , t h e guests
get very excited , and when I mention that I had a
long career as a soccer player, I provoke a genera l
del iriu m . U n w i t t i n g l y . I ' ve stumbled upon t h e i r
principal passion . But t h e mistress of t h e house
translates Prous t , and everyone prese n t i s pro
fou ndly knowledgeable about French culture. A f
terwards I suggest to B. t h a t we take a w a l k in t h e
city .
G a i l y l i t up by m u l t icolored signs, t h e l i t t l e
pedestrian streets a r e h a rbors of peace n e a r t h e
large arteries w i t h their growl i n g traffic. A s i f, be
tween Concord e , the M adelei n e , and the Avenue
de I ' Opera , no cars were a l lowed on the rue St.
Honore. The flower market. L i t t l e bar where you
drink " l i t t l e coffees" seated on m i n iscule c h a i r s .
Moorish h o u s e s next to s kyscrape rs. Next Barleto
makes me take a l i ttle tramway t h a t c l i mbs a steep
path up the c i t y ' s h i l l s . We reach a n e i g h borhood
-at once poor and l u x urious-that looks out
over the city. A t dusk the city extends to the hori
zon . Above her a m u l t i tude of colored signs stand

84 A MER ICAN JOURNALS

smoking in the moist eveni n g a i r . In the soft sky
one can see the profiles of h i l l s w h ich end in jut
ting h i gh pal m s . There is a tenderness i n this sky,
and a nostalgia which is a lmost swee t . Descending
on foot, down steps and along s m a l l , slanting
streets, we return to the city prope r . In the first
real street that w e come u pon , a positivist temple .
There' s a cult here to Clotilde de Vaux 1 4 and i t ' s
i n B r a z i l that A u guste C o m t e i s immorta l ized b y
his m o s t disconcerti n g legacy . A little further on
there ' s

Goth ic church built of rei n forced con

crete . The temple, on the other hand, i s Greek.

But they must have been short of money because
there are no corn ices on the col u m n s . Small bar
where we chat with B . N . Charming m a n , some
t i m es profound ("by sitting i n the sun and letting
our s k i n turn dar k , a certai n i n nocence i s lost")
who, i t seems to m e , l i ves the drama of our era
with dignity. I leave him to meet Abdias, the black
actor , a t M m e . M i neur's and to go on from there
to

macumba.

A M A C U M B A , I N B R A Z I V5
A t M m e . M . ' s , anxiety reigns . The " father of the
saints" (priest a n d principal dancer) , w h o was sup
posed to orga n i ze the

macumba,

consulted the saint

of the day, but was refused h i s authorization .

Abdias, the black actor, t h i n k s he probably d i d n ' t

SOUTH AMER ICA 8 5

prom ise enough money t o w i n t h e good w i l l of t h e

sa i n t . I n h i s opinion we should risk a n exped ition
to Caxias, a subu rba n v i l lage 25 m i les from Rio,
where by c h a nce we might be able to find a mac
umba . During d i n ner t h e macumbas are explai ned
to me. The pu rpose of th ese ceremonies is always
the sa m e : t h rough dances and songs, to a t t a i n the
descent of t h e god i n t o oneself. T h e goal is the
tra n c e . W h a t d i s t i nguishes macumbas from other
ceremonies is t h e m i xture of C a t h o l i c i s m and Afri
can ritua l s . T here is E c h o u , an A frican god and
spirit of evi l , but a l so Ogou n w h o is our Saint
George . T here are a l so S a i n t Cosme and Saint
Damien , etc . , etc. T h e c u l t of s a i n t s i s i n tegrated
here i n to rites of possession . Each day has its sa i n t ,
w h o cannot b e feted o n a n y other d a y un less spe
cial a u t h or i zation is obtained from the principal
" father of the s a i n ts . " T h e " fa t h e r o f t h e sa i n ts "
has h i s daugh ters ( a n d h i s son s , I su ppose) , a n d h e
is req u i red to ver i fy t h e i r trances .
A fter rece i v i n g t h i s e l e m e n tary i n formation ,
we depart . 2 5 m i les in a k i n d of fog . I t ' s 1 0

P M

Caxias, w h i c h makes m e t h i n k of a v i l l a ge fa i r fu l l
o f stands. W e stop a t t h e v i l l a ge square where
there are a l ready about t w e n t y cars a n d many
more people t h a n we had i m a g i n e d . N o soo ner
have we stopped t h a n a you n g m u l atto comes up
to m e , offers m e a b o t t l e of aguard i e n t e , a n d a s k s

86 AMERICAN JOURNALS

me if I ' ve brou g h t Tarrou w i t h m e . He breaks out

laugh i n g , jokes w i t h m e , and i n troduces me to h i s
friends. H e ' s a poe t . I l e a r n t h a t i t w a s k n o w n i n
Rio t h a t I was to b e taken to a macumba ( I was
told to keep i t secret w h i c h I i n noce n t l y d i d ) , and a
lot of people have shown up. Abdias tries to get in
formation a n d directions. We rem a i n t here i n the
m i d d l e of t h e square, chatting w i t h t h e people
from the v i l l age. Abdias is i m m o b i l e . Appare n t l y ,
no one i s t a k i n g c a r e of a n y t h i n g ; everyone is j ust
standing arou n d , staring up a t the stars. Sudde n l y :
general exciteme n t . A bdias t e l l s m e t h a t we h a v e
to g o up t h e mou n ta i n . We take off, drive several
m i les on a beat-up road and th e n , for n o apparent
reason , sudde n l y stop. W a i t i ng-no one seems to
be doing a n y t h i n g . T h e n off we go agai n . Sud
d e n l y t h e car turns a 45 degree a n gle and sets off
up t h e mou n t a i n roa d . I t struggles pa i n fu l l y for a
few m i n u tes a n d t h e n stops: i t ' s too steep. We
leave the car beh i n d and set off on foot . The h i l l is
barre n , very l i t t le vegeta t i o n , but we ' re i n the
open s k y , a m idst t h e stars , i t see m s . T h e a i r smells
of s m o k e . I t ' s so t h ick you seem to be c u t t i n g
t h rough i t a s you wa l k . A t t h e sum m i t of the h i l l
we h e a r t h e d r u m s a n d songs i n t h e d i st a n c e , but
then t h ey stop. We walk i n t h e i r d i rect i o n . N o
t rees , no houses; i t ' s a desert . But i n a h o l low w e
s e e a k i n d of vast h a n ga r w i t h o u t w a l l s . P a p e r gar- .
lands are strung across t h e ce i l i n g . Sudde n l y I see

SOUTH A M ERICA 8 7

a procession of b l a c k girls com ing towards u s .

They 're dressed

in

long-waisted

w h ite

dresses

made of coarse s i l k . A man is fol lowing them . H e ' s

dressed in a kind of red j u m per and is wearing
neck laces of m u l t icolored teet h . Abdias stops h i m
and i n t roduces m e . H i s gree t i n g is serious , b u t
friend l y .

B u t there is a complication .

They're

goi n g to join another macu mba twenty m i n u tes

awa y , and we have to follow them . We set out. A t a
crossroads I see a kind of niche where t h e statues
of saints or devi ls (extremely crude , i n t h e style of
Saint S u lpice) are set i n front of a candle and a
bow l fu l of water . 1 6 They show me Echou , red and
ferocious, w i t h a k n i fe i n h i s hand. The path
snakes t h rough t h e h i l l s u nder a star-fi l led sky.
The dancers go on ahead of u s , laugh i n g and jok
ing. We go down one h i l l , cross t h e road by which
we arrived , and start u p another h i l l . Cabins made
of branches and clay, fu l l of wh i speri n g shadows.
Then the procession stops i n front of a raised ter
race surrounded by a wall of reed sta l k s . We hear
drums and songs com i n g from inside. When we're
all together, the first women climb u p t h e terrace
and en ter backwards t h rough the reed door. Then
the men . We enter a courtyard fu l l of rubbish .
The sound of s i n g i n g is com i n g from a l i t t l e
t h atched h o u s e opposite u s . We g o i n . I t ' s a very
crude kind of cabi n ; however, the w a l l s are stuc
coed . The roof is held up by a central mast , the

88 AMERICAN JOURNALS

floor is earthen . A sma l l lean-to shelters a n altar

above w h i c h is a colored i mage of S t . George . U
S i m i lar images are h u n g arou n d the w a l l s . I n a
corner, on a l i ttle platform decorated w i t h palm
leaves , t h ree m usicians are play i n g short and long
dru m s . Before we arrived there were a l ready some
forty dancers. We double that n u m ber so i t ' s very
crowded and hard to brea t h e . I back up against a
wa l l and watc h . T h e dancers set t hemselves i n two
concentric circles, the men i nside and the women
outside. The two " fa t hers of the saints" (the one
who welcomed us is dresse d , l i ke t h e dancers, in
what looks l i k e w h i t e paja mas) are face to face i n
the center of the circles. O n e a fter t h e o t h e r they
sing the first notes of a song t h a t ' s taken u p i n cho
rus by the dancers. The c i rcles move clockwise.
The dance is s i m p l e : a foot stamp onto w hich is
grafted the double u n d u lation of the r h umba. The
" fathers" mark t h e r h y t h m very l i g h t l y . M y trans
lator i n forms me t h a t t h e songs are e n t rea t i n g the
sai n t to aut horize our presence i n this place. The
breaks between the son gs are rather long. Near
the a l tar one woman s i n ger shakes a small bell in
cessa n t l y . The dancing i s h a rdly frenetic. The
style is mediocre and i t ' s h eavy . As i t gets h otter,
the breaks are a l m ost unbearabl e . I notice:

1 . that the dancers don ' t even work u p a l ight

swea t :

SOUTH AMERICA

89

2 . a w h i te m a n and woman who dance worse

than the others.
One of the dancers approaches and speaks to
me. M y translator tel l s me that I am bei n g asked to
uncross my arms because t h i s position i m pedes t h e
descent of the spi r i t . I subm i t and k e e p my arms at
my sides . Little by l i ttle the breaks between the
songs get shorter and the dance more lively. A l i t
candle is brought to the center and stuck i n t h e
earth near a glass of water. The songs i n voke S t .
George .

He arrives in moonlight
He leaves in sunlight
and continues:

I am the battlefield ofgod.

In fac t , one or two of the dancers a l ready
seem to be i n a trance, but, i f I may say so, t h e
trance i s rat h e r cal m : h a n d s on the s m a l l of t h e
bac k , legs stiff, eyes u n m o v i n g and vacan t . 1 8 T h e
"father" i n r e d pours water i n t w o concentric cir
cles around the candl e , and a l most without i nter
ruption the dances resume, one after the other.
From t i m e to time a man or woman leaves the cir
cles to dance in the m iddle , near, but never cross-

90 AMERICAN JOURNALS

i n g , the ci rcles of water. Their r h y t h m is faster,

and t h e y ' re sei zed by spasms and inarticu late cries.
The dust rises from the floor and t h ickens the air
which is a l ready s t i fl i n g . M ore and more dancers
leave the circles to dance around the two fathers
who have a l so quic kened the tempo of t h e i r move
ments (the father in w h i te dances very w e l l ) .

Now

the drums are ragi n g , and a l l of a sudden t h e fa

ther in red breaks loose . l 9 Eyes i n flamed , arms and
legs w h i r l i n g around his bod y , he leaps from leg

to

leg with ben t knee, accelerati n g his r h y t h m u n t i l

the dance ends and he s t a n d s s t a r i n g a t everyone
with a fi xed and fr ightening ga ze. A t this moment
a dancer comes forward from a dark corner,
kneels, and offers him a sheathed sword . T h e fa
ther in red p u l l s t h e sword and swi ngs it around
his body i n a t h reate n i n g manner. They bri n g h i m
an enormous c i g a r . L i t t l e by l i t t l e everyone l ights
cigars and smokes them while they dance . The
dance con t i n u e s . One by one t h e dancers prostrate
themselves before the fat h e r , placing their heads
between his fee t . H e hits them diagona l l y with the
flat of the sword , stands them up, touches his right
shou lder to t h e i r left and vice versa . H e pushes
them violently i n to the circle, and two out of t h ree
times t h i s movement sets off a crisis w h i c h takes a
d i fferent form depe n d i n g on t h e dancer: a fat
black man , i m mobi l e , stari n g vaca n t l y at the cen
tral mast, has o n l y a q u i vering at the back of his

SOUTH AMERICA 9 1

neck which con t i n ues i n cessa n t l y . H e looks l i ke a

boxer down for the cou n t . A t h i c k w h i t e woman
w i t h a n animal face barks relentless l y , shaking her
head from right to left . 20 B u t t h e young black
women enter i n to the most h ideous trance, t h e i r
feet g l u e d to the ground and their bod ies racked
by starts and jerks which become more violent as
they ascend toward the wome n ' s shou lders. Their
heads shoot back and forth and look as i f they are
goi n g to fly off t h e i r nec k s . They scream and
how l . Then t h e women begi n to fa l l . They are
picked u p , patted on the forehead , and they start
i n again u n t i l they fa l l once more. The s u m m i t is
reached when everyone starts screa m i n g : strange,
hoarse sounds t h a t resemble barki n g . I a m told
that t h i s will con t i n u e i n cessa n t l y until dawn . I t ' s

A.M.

The hea t , the dust , the c i gar smoke , and t h e

s m e l l of bodies m a k e t h e a i r u n breathabl e . I go
out staggeri n g , and breat h e in the fresh air w i t h
del i g h t . I l i k e the n i g h t and the sky better t h a n the
gods of men .

J ULY I 7
Work in the morn i n g .

eat l u n c h w i t h G . and two

B ra z i l i a n professors . Th ree professors i n fac t , but

nice. Then Lucien Febvre , 2 1 a n old, rather taci
turn man, joins u s , and we take a drive t h rough
the mountains that encircle R i o . One h u ndred

92

.AMERICAN JOURNALS

views of the Tij uca garde n s , the M e y r i n k chape l ,

t h e Corcovado, t h e bay of R io-each v i e w very
different from a l l the others . And the i m m ense
beaches of the South , with w h i te sand and emerald
waves , which run deserted for thousands of m iles
into U ruguay . The tropical forest and its three
layers. Brazil i s a land without men . Every t h i n g
created h e r e i s created at t h e p r i c e of i n ordinate
efforts. N a t u re suffocates man. " I s space suffici e n t
to create c u l ture?" t h e good Brazilian professor
asks me. I t ' s a mea n i n gless question . But these
spaces are the ones that w i l l gai n from tech nical
progress. The faster the a i rplane flies, the less im
porta n t are Fra n c e , Spa i n , and I t a l y . They were
nations, now they are provinces, and tomorrow
they w i l l be the world ' s v i l lages . The fu ture i s not
ours, and there ' s n o t h i n g we can do aga i n s t this ir
resistible movemen t . Germany lost the war be
cause i t was a nation and modern warfare req u i res
the means of empires. Tomorrow t h e means of en
t i re con tinents will be necessa ry . And now t h e two
great empires seek the conquest of their conti
nents. W h a t ' s to be done? The only hope is the
birth of a new c u l t u r e , and a South A merica that
can perhaps m o l l i fy t h e mechanical fol l y . 22 That's
what I badly ex pressed to m y professor as we sat
before a h i ssing sea , lett i n g sand run between our
fi n gers.

SOUTH AMERICA 9 3

A fter bei n g c h i l led in the car and a l so u nder

the Corcovado C h r i s t , I return to the hotel to w a i t
for the fa i t h fu l Abdias w h o ' s supposed to t a k e me
to dance the samba a fter dinner. Disappo i n t i n g
eve n i n g . I n a n o u t l y i n g neighborh ood , a k i n d o f
work i n g c l a s s dance h a l l l i t , o f cou rse , b y neon .
For the most part t h ere are only blac k s , but in Bra
z i l this means a grea t variety of skin colors. S u r
prised to see how slowly these blacks dance , as i f
underwater. Perhaps i t ' s the c l i ma t e . The Harlem
madmen would probably c a l m down here. Except
for the color of the s k i n , noth i n g d i s t i n guishes t h i s
dance h a l l from a thousand oth ers t h roughout t h e
world . Spea k i n g of t h i s , I notice t h a t I h a v e to con
quer i n myself a reverse prej udice. I l i ke blacks a

priori,

and I ' m tempted to see in them q u a l i ties

that they don ' t rea l l y have. I w a n t these peopl e to

be beaut i fu l , but i f I imagine them with w h i te s k i n ,
I find a rather pretty collection of clerks and dys
peptic employees . Abdias agrees . The race is u g l y .
However, of the m u latto women who i m mediately
come to drink a t our table , not because it's o u rs
but because we're d r i n k i n g there, one or two a re
pretty . I ' m even attracted to one w h o ' s lost her
voice , dances a lax samba w i t h another woma n ,
taps m e on t h e side t o awaken m y appet i t e , and
then sudde n l y i n forms me t h a t I ' m bored . Tax i . I
return to the hote l .

94 AMERICAN JOURNALS

J ULY 1 8
I t ' s pour i n g buckets onto t h e smoking bay and
onto the c i t y . C a l m morn i n g of wor k . I go to l u nch
with Lage in a nice restaura n t that gives onto the
por t . I have a date with Barleto at 3 to visit the
wor k i n g class suburbs. We take a suburban tra i n .

Meier. Todos o s santos. 2 Madeidu ra . I ' m struck by

how Arab it see m s . Stores w i t h o u t sh op-fronts.
Every t h i n g i s i n the stree t . Saw a hearse : a ceno
taph i n Empire style with enormous gi lded bronze
co l u m n s on a del i very truck pain ted blac k . Let the
rich have horses. V i o l e n t l y colored fabrics on dis
play. We cross i n terminable subu rbs in a bumpy
streetcar. Sad and most of t h e t i m e empty (the
tribes of workers camped a t t h e entra n ces of hol,ls
ing developmen ts24 rem ind me of B . 25) but coagu
l a t i n g a t long i n terva l s around a center, a square
bri l l i a n t with neon , w i t h red and green l i g h t s (in
the m iddle of the day) , cra m m ed w i t h t h i s m u l t ico
lored crowd at whom , from t i m e to t i m e , a loud
spea ker screa m s the latest footba l l scores . One
t h i n k s of these crowds o f peop l e , i ncessa n t l y grow
ing over the surface of the world , who w i l l eventu
ally

cover

every t h i n g and

end

up

s u ffocat i n g

t h e m s e l v e s . I understand R i o better l i ke t h i s , at
any rate better than at the Copacabana-that as
pect of i t t h a t ' s like an o i l stain extending i n fi n i tely
i n every direction . Return i n g i n a

lotacao, a kind of

group tax i , we see one of the n u m erous accidents

SOUTH A M ERICA 9 5

that resu lt from t h i s u n bel ievable traffi c . O n a n

avenue s h i m m e r i n g w i t h l i g h t s a speed i n g b u s h i t s
a poo r , o l d b l a c k m a n , s e n d s h i m fl y i n g l i ke a ten
nis ba l l , drives a round the bod y , and takes off.
The driver flees beca use of t h e stupid law of fla

gra n te delicto,

w h ich would send him to pri son . So

he takes off, there's no

flagra nte delicto,

and he

won ' t go to prison . N obody comes t o help t h e old

black man . The shot he took would have k i l led a
bu l l . Later on I learn t h a t t h ey ' l l p u t a w h ite sheet
over h i m - w h i c h will s l o w l y t u r n red with h i s
bl ood-set l i t candles around h i m , a n d t h e traffic
w i l l continue to by-pass h i m u n t i l t h e a u t h o r i t ies
arnve.
I n the even i n g , d i n ner at Robert C laver i e ' s .
N o t h i n g but Frenc h , w h ich i s rela x i n g . H u x ley
says that when one spea ks a foreign lan guage
there ' s someone inside of onese l f who refuses .

JULY 1 9
Bea u t i ful wea t h e r . A charm i n g , myopic lady j o u r
na l i s t . M a i l . Lunch w i t h t h e Del a m a i n s in a restau
ra n t a t the t ra i n station-neo n , o f course. The
mea l . Dark though t s . A t t h e end of t h e afternoon
I go to a drama schoo l . I n terview w i t h professors
and stude n t s . D i n n er at t h e C h a pass ' home w i t h
the

national

poet

Manuel

Bandera ,

smal l ,

96 AMERICAN JOURNALS

extremely refined m a n . A fter d i n ner Kai m i , a

black man w h o w r i tes a n d composes the sambas
that are sung t h roughout Brazi l , comes to sing and
play his gu i t a r . O f all songs t h ese are the saddest
and most m o v i n g . The sea and love , nostalgia for
Bah i a . L i t t l e by l i t t l e everyone sings. One sees

black man , a depu t y , a u n i versity professor , and a

notary public s i n g t hese sambas together w i t h very
natural grace. Completely seduced .

J ULY 20
Bea u t i fu l m o r n i n g i n a motor boat on t h e bay of
R i o . O n l y a l i g h t , cool w i n d brushes the surface of
the water. We run alongside the islands; little
beac hes (two twins named Adam and Eve) . F i n a l l y ,
a swim i n t h e pure , c o o l water. A fternoo n , a v i s i t
from M u r i l l o M e n des-a p o e t and i n p o o r h ea l t h .
A p u r e , u n y i e l d i n g spi r i t . Real l y one of t h e t w o or
th ree t h a t I ' ve not iced here. Lecture in t h e eve
n i n g . W h e n I arrive, I fi nd a crowd bloc k i n g the
e n t ra nce . U n able to fi nd a sea t , C laverie a n d the
ravish i n g Mme.

Petitjean are about to leave.

manage to get sea ts for t h e m , but not w i t h o u t dif

fi c u l t y . The auditorium holds 8 0 0 peopl e , but i t ' s
overfl o w i n g a n d s o m e of the p u b l i c a re obl i ged t o
s t a n d or sit o n the fl o o r . The society peopl e , diplo
m a t s , etc . , n a t u ra l l y a r r i v i n g late, have to choose
between s t a n d i n g or leav i n g . The Spanish am bas-

SOUTI-1 AMERICA 97

sador sits beh i n d the rostrum on a board sup

ported by two sawhorses. In a l ittle while h e ' l l be
educated . N i n u , a Spanish refugee whom I knew
i n Paris , is there! He's head of the

campeones

in a

ranch 60 m i les from R i o . H e came 60 m i les to

hear

his

"campanero. "

He's

lea v i n g

tomorrow

mor n i n g . When you know what i t means to go 60

m i les on these roads . . . I ' m moved to tears. Tak
ing out a pack of cigarettes , h e tells m e that these
are closest to the

"gusto frances, "

and offers m e

one. I s t i c k close to h i m a l l even i n g , h appy to have

him i n the auditorium and thinking to myself that
i t ' s for men l i k e him that I ' m goi n g to speak . A n d ,
i n fact, this is h o w I speak ,26 and I get through t o
t h e men l i k e N . , a n d , i t seem s to m e , t o the young
people who are there . But I doubt that I w i n over
the society people . A fterwards, t h e stampede . I
harvest several honest responses. The rest is play
acting. Go to sleep at m i d n i g h t , knowing I have to
get up at

4:30

A.M.

for a plane to Recife .

J ULY 2 1
Get up at

A .M.

I t ' s pouring. J ust goi n g from the

embassy door to the tax i , I get soaked . During the

form a l i ties at the a i rport I'm asleep on my feet.
It's a long way from the ai rport to the aerodrome.
I n t h i s cli mate one gets wet twice: once from the
rain , and then from one's own perspi ra t i o n . A

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A MERICAN JOURNALS

long wait. W e don ' t end up leaving u n t i l 8 : 3 0 , and

once again I ' m in a rage against airplanes. While
I'm waiti n g I look at a chart that shows the dis
tances between R i o and the capitals of the world.
Paris is 6000 miles away . Two m i n u tes later La vie

en rose

on the radio. U nder a low sky , burdened

with rai n , the airplane takes off heavi l y . I try to

sleep but can ' t . Four and a half hours later, when
we land at Recife , the a i rplane door open s onto
red earth consumed by hea t . I t ' s true that we're
once aga i n at the equator. I nsomniac, vaguely fe
verish from a cold I ' ve caught t h i s morn i n g , I stag
ger u nder the weight of t h e heat . No one's waiting
for m e . It's not surpr i s i n g since i t seems the plane
is early . So I wait in a n empty room i n air that's on
fi r e , contemplati n g in the distance the coconut
forests that surround t h e c i t y . The delegation ar
rives. Everybody n i c e . The th ree Frenchmen who
are there are all over six feet tal l . W e ' re well rep
resented. We take off. Red earth and coconut
trees . A n d then t h e sea and i m mense beaches. Ho
tel on t h e pier. The masts are h i gher than the par
ape t . I try to sleep. In va i n . Four hours. They
come to fetch m e . There ' s the director uf the old
est newspaper in South A merica , Le journal

nambouc.
city.

de Per

H e ' s t h e one who takes me around the

A d m i rable ,

very

w h i te colonial

churches,

where the Jesu i t i c style is made c learer and l i gh ter

by the stucco . The i n terior is baroq u e , but without

SOUTH AMERICA 99

the excessive heaviness of European baroq u e . The

Golden Chapel i n particular is admirable. H ere
the

azulejos

are perfectly preserved .

Only

the

" w icked " J udas, the Roman soldiers, etc . h a v e

been disfigured by the people; and i t ' s the s a m e
thing with the pai n t i ngs. A l l t h e i r faces a r e con
sumed and bloody . I admire the old city-the red ,
blue, and och re houses, t h e streets paved w i t h
large pointed pebbles. The square of t h e San
Pedro churc h . Right next to a coffee factory t h e
church is b l a c k from the smoke of t h e roasters . I t
l i tera l l y has a coffee pati n a .
D i nner alone. Fai n t l y , the sou n d of a n orches
tra . Exile has its pleasures . A fter d i n ner, a lecture
for about one h undred people w h o , as they leave,
seem very tired. I definitely do like Recife . F l or
ence of the tropics, between its cocon u t forests, its
red mounta i n s , its w h i te beaches.

JULY 2 2
Wake up w i t h the grippe and a fever . Wobbly legs .
I get dressed and wait at the hotel for t h ree i n
tellectua l s who a r e deter m i ned to s e e m e . T w o a r e
pleasa n t . We g o to s e e O l i n d a , a smal l , h istoric c i t y
w i t h old churches, on the b a y opposite Rec i fe .
Very beautifu l convent o f Saint-Fra n c i s . W h e n I
return I ' m s h i vering w i t h fever and take aspi r i n

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AMERICAN JOURNALS

and g i n . Lunch at the consu l ' s . A fter lunch a walk

through a coconut forest that borders the sea.
Through the ope n ings we see the sai l s of junsahes
at sea , a k i n d of narrow raft , made of trunks of
a very l ight wood held together by rope . I'm told
that these fragi le assemblages can remain at sea
for days and days. Here and there straw huts. But
in the suffocating, l u m inous air, the shadow of
the coconut trees trembles before m y eyes. The
grippe gets worse and, with an i nterview at 5
o'cloc k , I excuse myself to rest. Can ' t s leep. A
round table discussion which, thanks to two whis
keys, I manage to get t h rough . A fterwards, depar
ture for a fiesta orga n i zed for m e . They give me
an i njection for my grippe. U ni n terest i n g songs
and dances . A chic macumba . But the bomba-men

boi is an extraord i nary spectacl e . I t ' s a k i n d of gro

tesque ballet danced by r:nasked dancers and totem
fi gures on a theme that never varies: the putting
to death of a stee r . While they dance the charac
ters recite, a n d i m provi se , a text in verse . What I
see lasts one hour. But I ' m told that it can last all
night. The masks are extraordinary . Two red
clowns, the "sailor h orseman " inside a merry-go
round h orse, a swa n , a clown dressed as a gaucho.
Two I ndians, and of course the steer-the "dead
bearing the l i v i n g"-a k i n d of two-bodied figure
worn by a single actor , the

cachasa (or drunk), the

son of the horse, a prancing col t ,

m a n on stilts,

SOUTH AMERICA

101

the crocodile, and, dom i nating everyth i n g , a dead

man at least 9 feet ta l l who contemplates the per
formance, his head high up in the n i g h t sky . The
orchestra consists of a drum and a steel dru m . The
religious origi ns are evident (there are sti l l prayers
i n the text) . But all that is drowned i n a diabolic
dance , a thousand gracefu l or grotesque inven
tions ending w i t h the m u rder of the steer w h i c h is
reborn soon afterwards and carries off a l i ttle girl
between its horns. The e nd-a great shout: " Long
live Senor Camus and the one h undred

kings of the

Orien t . " I return to the hote l , brutali zed by t h e

grippe .

JULY 2 3

A.M.

Leave for Ba h i a . M y grippe is a l i t t l e better.

But I ' m sti l l feverish and ach i n g . It's cold i n t h e

airplane , G o d k n o w s w h y . And it bounces around
tt:rrib l y . A fter t h ree hours we see the appearance
of l i t t l e h i l l s covered with snow on a vast plai n . At
least that's the i mpression that this w h i t e sand ,
w h ich is everywhere here, gives m e , im maculate
waves which resemble a desert surrou n d i n g Bah i a .
F r o m the aerodrome to the city fou r m i les of road
winds between banana trees and dense vegetation .
The earth is completely red . Bah i a , w h ere one sees
only blacks, seems to me to be a n enormous collec
tion of markets-tee m i n g , i mpoverished , fi l t h y ,

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AMERICAN JOURNALS

and beaut i fu l . I n n u merable stands made of torn

sheets and old p l a n k s , old, low houses stuccoed
with red, apple-green , and blue l i m e , etc.
Lunch at t h e port . Large boats w i t h blue and
ochre lateen sails u n load bunches of bananas. We
eat dishes that are spicy enough to make cripples
walk aga i n . The bay that I see from t h e w i ndow of
m y hotel ex tends rou nd and pure, fu l l of a strange
silence, beneath a grey s k y , w h i l e the i mmobile
sails t h a t one sees seem i m prisoned i n a sea that
has sudde n l y become rigid. I prefer this bay to the
one at R i o- too spectac u l a r for my tastes. At least
this one has moderation and poetry . Si nce the
morn i n g

brutal

and

abundant

downpours

They've transformed the broken streets of Bahia

i n to rush i n g torrents. A n d we dri"e i n t h e m iddle
of two large blades of water w h ich pour down in
cessa n t l y over both sides of the car.
V i s i t the c h u rches. Even though they have
bigger repu tatio n s , t h e y ' re t h e same as t h e ones at
Rec i fe . The C h u rch of the Good J e s u s with its vo
tive offe r i n gs (plaster cast s , a buttoc k s , an X -ray ,
corpora l ' s stripes). S u ffoca t i n g . But t h i s harmoni
ous baroque is very repe t i t i v e . In fac t , it's the o n l y
t h i n g to s e e i n t h i s cou ntry and i t does n ' t t a k e l o n g
to s e e i t . Real l i fe rema i n s . B u t i n t h i s oversized
land w h i c h has the sadness of large spaces, l i fe is

SOUTH AMERICA

103

terribly banal a n d i t would take years to i n tegrate

oneself. Do I want to spend years i n Brazil? No. At

P.M.

I take a shower, sleep, and wake u p fee l i n g a

bit better. Din ner alone. Then a lecture before a

patient public. The consul j o i n s me afterwards
and, after the last glass has been dru n k , slips m e ,
under the table, an en velope conta i n i n g approxi
mately 4 5 ,000 francs i n Bra z i l i a n cu rrency. This is
what I ' m bei n g paid by t h e U n iversity of Bah i a .
T h e consu l ' s surprise w h e n I refuse . H e explains
to me that " t here are others who demand t h i s
payment . " F i n a l l y he desists. I k n o w t h a t h e can ' t
help t h i n k i n g : " I f he needed i t , h e ' d accept . " I n
fact . . .
Before fi n i s h i n g I jot down several of t h e
house r u l e s i n the French of the Palace(?) H otel of
Ba hia- " I n Brazil everyone speaks French . " So
goes the propaganda .
"The fai l u re to pay b i l l s , as stipu lated i n para
graphs

and 4, w i l l obl i ge the management to e f

fect the w i t h h o l d i n g of baggage as security aga i n st

the debt, and as a consequence the c l i e n t w i l l i m
mediately disoccupy the occupied room . "
" I t i s prohibi ted to possess birds, dogs , or
other animals i n the room s . "

104 A MERICAN JOURNALS

" I n the h otel lobby one still finds a well
appo i n ted American Bar and a spacious readi n g
room . "
And t h i s one for the e n d :
" I n the h o t e l lobby there is a barber s h o p a n d
a manicure salon . The c l i e n t s c a n employ their
functions i n their rooms. "

J U L Y 2 4 (S U N D A Y)
At 1 0

A.M.

Eduardo Catalao, a charming Brazilian

who is pol ite i n a way that people no longer are,

takes me, by way of a road in extreme disrepair, to
the I tapoa beac h . I t ' s a v i l lage of fishermen i n
straw huts. B u t t h e beach i s w i l d a n d beautifu l , the
sea frothy at the foot of the coconut trees. This
grippe , wh ich won ' t end and has me enslaved,
keeps m e from goi n g s w i m m i n g . We meet a group
of young French fi l m people who are l i v i n g in a
straw h u t and m a k i n g a fi l m abou t Bah i a . Sur
prised to see me i n t h i s out of the way p lace . They
smell a little of S t . -Germain-des-Pres.
A v i triolic lunch at t h ree. From

5 to 7,

I work.

D i n ner at the consu l ' s . Then we go to see a

domble,27

can

a new cerem o n y of t h i s curious Afro

Brazi l i a n rel igion which is t h e Catholicism of the

SOUTH AMERICA

105

blacks here . I t ' s a k i n d of dance execu ted i n front

of a food-laden table, accompa n ied by th ree drums
of differen t sizes and a flattened fu nnel t h a t is
struck with a t h i n , iron stick. The dances are di
rected by a k i n d of matron (who replaces the " fa
thers of the sa i n ts")

and

all

t h e dancers are

wom e n . The costu mes are much richer than a t

Bah i a . Two of the dancers, b o t h enormous, have
their faces covered by straw vei l s . Nonetheless I
learn noth i n g new u n t i l the e n t rance of a group of
youn g black girls, sem i-hypnotized, eyes a lmost
closed , sta n d i n g straigh t but swinging their feet
forward and bac k . One of the m , a tall t h i n gir l , de
lights me. She's wearin g a green dress and a blue
h u n tress ' hat w i t h m usketeer feathers and t h e
b r i m t u r n e d u p . I n her hand she's h o l d i n g a green
and yellow bow loaded with a n arrow a t the end of
which i s a brooch represe n t i n g a m u l t i colored
bird.

The

smooth

handsome ,

and

i n noce n t

sleepi n g face
melancholy .

reflects
This

black

Diana is i n fi n itely gracefu l . A n d when she dances,

this e xtraord inary gracefu lness remai n s u n d i m i n
ished . When the m usic stops, she totters . The
rhythm alone lends her a k i n d of i nvisible guard
ian around which she spi n s her a rabesques , u t ter
ing from time to time a strange, piercing but
somehow melodious bird cry . A l l the rest isn ' t
worth m uch . M ediocre dances express i n g degen
erated rituals. We leave w i t h Catalao. But in t h i s

1 06

A MERICAN JOURNALS

faraway neighborhood , as we stumble along the

streets fu ll of holes, through the heavy , aromatic
night, the wounded bird's cry comes back to me
and I reca l l my bea u t i fu l slumber i n g one.
I would like to go to bed , but Catalao wants to
dri n k w h i skey i n one of those morbidly depressing
n i g h t cl ubs one can find anywhere . W i thout my
knowing, h e requests some French music and,
for the second t i m e , I hear

La vie

en

rose

i n the

Tropics.

J U LY 2 5
Wake up at 7

A.M.

I have to wait for an airplane

that may or may not leave. Then it's con firmed. It

will depart at 1 1

A.M.

My grippe is better, but my

legs are shaky. Furious desire to return home. I

lose two hours at t h e aerodrome . We leave . I t ' s

1 : 30 and we won ' t a r r i v e i n Rio before 7. I ' m writ

ing all t h i s in the airplane, where I feel very alone.
Eve n i n g . Arri ved w i t h a furious relapse i n to
both grippe and fever . This time it seems serious.

SOUTH AMERICA

1 07

JULY 26
I n bed . Feve r . O n l y t h e m i n d works o n , obsti
nately. H ideous t h ough t s . U n bearable fee l i n g of
advancing step by step toward a n u n k nown catas
trophe w h i c h w i l l destroy every t h i n g arou nd m e
and i n m e .
Even i n g . T h e y c o m e to fetch m e . I 'd forgot
ten that ton i g h t the black t h eater group was sup
posed to show me an act of

Caligula.

T h e theater's

been reserved a n d there's not h i n g to be don e . I

cover myself as if I were goi n g to t h e North Pole
and take a tax i .
Strange t o see these black R o m a n s . A n d t h e n
what seemed to m e to be a c r u e l and vigorous text
has become a slow , tender, vaguely sensual cooi n g .
A fter t h a t they perform a s hort B ra z i l i a n play
which I e njoy very m uc h . H ere's a synopsis :
" A man w h o frequently participates i n mac
u mbas i s visi ted by t h e spi r i t of love. He showers
atten tions on his w i fe , who is transported and fa l l s
i n l o v e w i t h the spirit i n h a b i t i n g her h usba n d .
W i t h the s a m e s o n g , as often as possible, she i n
vokes the presence of the spi r i t , w h i c h on stage
becomes a pretext for frequent and a n i mated bac
chanals. F i n a l l y the h usban d u n derstands t h a t she
i s i n love not w i t h h i m but w i t h God , and h e k i l l s

1 08 AMERICAN JOURNALS

her. She dies happi l y , however, because she's con

v i nced that she's goi n g to j o i n her beloved God . "
T h e eve n i n g ends w i t h Brazilian music which
seems, to m e , mediocre. I mporta n t , however, that
Brazil is the only coun t ry with a black population
that continually produces new tunes. The finale is
a frevo, a dance from

Pernambou c , i n which

everyone participates and which is the w ildest con

tortion that I ' ve seen so far . Charm i n g . As soon as
my head hits the pillow, I ' m out l i k e a l i g h t ,
don ' t wake up u n t i l

9 A.M. , i n fi n i tely

a nd

better .

J ULY 2 7
Set on this i mmense continent tee m i n g w i t h natu
ral and prim itive forces, Brazi l , with its t h i n armor
of modern i t y , makes me t h i n k of a bu i l d i n g being
gnawed at by i n v isible termites. One day the build
i n g w i l l col lapse , and a swarm of l i t tle people
blac k , red , and yellow- w i l l spread across the sur
face of the con t i n e n t , masked and armed with
spears, for the victory dance .
Brea k fast with the poet M u r i l l o M e n des (a
sensitive and melancholy spirit), his w i fe , and a
you n g poet whom R i o ' s intelligent traffic system
cost 1 7 fractures and a pair of crutches. After
break fast they take me to the " S u gar Loaf. " But

SOUTH AMERICA

1 09

the morn ing is spe n t w a i t i n g in l i n e , and we never

get past the first pea k-to the great d i s t ress of
Mme. Mendes who's sure I ' m bored when i n fact
I ' m i n a good mood because t h e i r company is so
pleasa n t . M. knows and quotes C h a r28 a n d bel ieves
that he's our most i mporta n t poet since R i mbaud .
That makes me happy .

J ULY 2 8
The Montevideo embassy complicates my stay by
wanting to change the dates that had been agreed
upon . F i n a l l y , i t ' s agreed I ' l l stay in

Rio u n t i l

Wednesday before goi n g to S a o P a u l o . L u n c h w i t h

S i m o n and Barleto w h o m I l i k e more a n d more
each day . The a fternoon spe n t work i n g . In the
eve n i n g a charming reception a t t h e em bassy , but
I'm bored there. I take French leave, as t h ey say
here, and go home to bed .

J ULY 2 9
The days i n Rio hardly make any sense a n d
pass q u i c k l y a n d , at t h e same t i m e , slow l y . Lunch
with M me . B . and her sister-i n-la w . French women
have their good sides. L i v e l y , spiritua l ; t h e t i m e
passes quickl y . Then a w a l k along t h e b a y i n mar
velous, soft weather. With difficulty I tear myself

1 10 AMERICAN JOURNALS
away from these pleasa n t , natural moments to run
off to the embassy to meet M e n des and his w i fe
who are supposed to take me to Correa ' s , an ex
publ isher, where I ' m to meet a student who . . . ,
etc. What I ' ve obsti nately refused a l l my l i fe , I ac
cept h ere-as if in advance I had agreed to every
t h i n g about t h i s trip w h i c h I never wan ted to un
dertake i n the fi rst place . I leave i n time to meet
Claverie, M m e . B . , and her sister-i n-la w , whom
I ' ve i n v ited to d i n n e r . A fter d i n ner Claverie drives
us along roads w h i c h bore th rough the mountain
and the night. T h e warm air, the tiny, n u merous
stars, the bay below . . . but all t h i s makes m e more
melancholy than happy .

JULY 3 0 AND 3 1
Weekend a t C l . 's i n Teresopol i s . I n the mountains

90

m i les from R i o . T h e drive i s bea u t i fu l , espe

cially between Petropolis and Teresopol i s . From

time to time you round a corner and a n ipecac
bush covered w i t h yellow flowers bursts upon you
against a background of mountains w h i c h extend
to the horizon . One aga i n u nderstands h ere what
had struck m e when I was i n a n airplane flying
over t h i s cou n t r y . I m mense, virgi n , and sol i tary
expanses in the face of w h ich the cities, set along
the shore, are no more than l i ttle specks of no im
portance. At a n y moment this enormous conti-

SOUTH AMERICA

111

nent, entirely surrendered to the natural w i lder

ness, could turn upon and cover over the false
luxuriousness of these cities. The weekend i s spe n t
taking wa l k s , s w i m m i n g , a n d playing p i n g-pong. I n
this cou ntryside I can fi na l l y brea t h e . A n d t h e a i r
at 2 600 feet s h o w s me h o w e x h a u s t i n g the c l i mate
of Rio rea l l y i s . When we go back down Sunday
night, it's without pleasure that I return to the
city. Besides , i n fron t of the embassy , I ' m wel
comed back by one of those scenes too frequently
witnessed i n Rio. Once aga i n , a bleed i n g woman
stretched out i n front of a bus. A n d a crowd look
ing on i n silence without h e l p i n g her. T h is barbar
ian practice disgusts me. M uc h later I hear the si
ren of a n arri v i n g ambulance. During a l l that time
the poor, dying woman was left moa n i n g i n the
stree t . As compensation they make a big show of
adori n g c h i ldre n .

AUGUST 1
D i fficult w a k i n g . To live is to hurt others, a n d
t h rough o t h e r s , to h u r t oneself. Cruel e a r t h ! H o w
c a n we ma nage not to t o u c h a n y t h i n g? To fi n d
what u l t i mate exi le?
Lunch at the embassy. I learn that i n Brazil
there is no death pen a l t y . In the a fternoon a lec
ture on Chamfort . 29 I wonder why I a lways attract

1 1 2 A MERICAN JOURNALS

worldly wome n . A lot of fancy hats! D i n ner with

Barleto, Machado , etc. i n a nice I talian restaura n t .
I n the afternoon we g o to a suburban ghetto. N u
merous negotiations before entering t h i s " city" o f
wood , t i n , and reeds, s t u c k to the fl a n k of a hill
above the l panema beach . F i n a l l y , we're told that
we can have a consultation (it's true that we have
as a letter of i n t roduction two good bottles of
cachado) with one of the ladies of the place . I t ' s
night when we e n t e r , pass i n g between compart
ments w here the soun d of radios and snoring can
be heard . The ground i s sl ippery, covered with
garbage,

and

sometimes absolutely vertica l .

It

takes us a good fi fteen m i n u tes t o arrive, o u t o f

breath , at the pythoness' h u t . B u t on the terrace,
i n front of the hut , w e ' re rewarded : beneath a
half-moon

the

motion less

beach

and

bay

are

stretched out before us. The pythoness seems to

be sleepi n g . But she lets us i n . I ' ve seen a lot of
huts l i k e t h i s , w i t h m u l ticolored fabrics hanging
from the cei l i n g . In a corner a bed w i t h someone
sleepi n g on it. In the m iddle a table with laundry
covered by a red curtain that makes it look l i ke a
cadaver. An alcove w here there ' s an altar and all
the statues of sa i n ts

that

St.

S u lpice

t h roughout the world. A l so a statue of

exports

Redskin

how it got there i s anyone's guess . The pythoness

gives the i mpression of bei n g a n i c e , honest home
maker. S h e ' s j ust fi n ished her consultations, w hich

SOUTH A MERICA

1 13

she gives only when the sai nt is within h e r . The

saint has left . We'll have to come back another
time . It's hot. But these blacks are so nice and pre
possessing that we stay and chat. Descending i s a
real race with deat h . One imagines the women
going to get water two or t h ree times a day , and
climbing back up with the bucket on their heads .
One imagines the days when it's rai n i n g . As it is,
Barleto takes a spi l l . I arrive safe and soun d , and
the evening ends at the home of Machado, who
tell s m e about the healers who help the dying in
M inas . '0 I n certain cases, when the agony lasts too
long,

these m e n , who are licensed , are called.

They arrive, dressed as masters of ceremony, say

hello, take off their gloves and go to the dying
one. They have h i m repeat " M ary-Jesus" without
stopping, place a knee on his stomac h , cover his
mouth and apply pressure u n t i l their agonized
client has crossed to the other side . They retire
from the roo m , put their gloves back on , receive
fifty cruzeiros and leave, accompanied by the grat
itude and esteem of the dead m a n ' s fam i l y .

AUGUST 2
Tired of writing down m eaningless bits and pieces.
( I ' m writing this in the airplane that's tak i n g me to
Sao Paulo. Yesterday was ful l of mean ingless bits
and pieces. Even a conversation with Mendes on

1 1 4 A MER ICAN JOURNALS

the relationship between culture and violence,
which h elped me clarify my thoughts, seemed
meaningless to m e . )
I n reality, haunted i n the glorious light of R i o
b y the i d e a of the h a r m we d o to others from t h e
m o m e n t we l o o k at t h e m . I have to confess that
for a long time making people suffer was a matter
of indifference to me. I t ' s love that e n l i g h te ned
me on t h i s poin t . Now I can no longer bear i t . In a
way i t ' s better to k i l l someone than to make h i m
suffer.
What I rea l ized clearly yesterday is that I want
to die.

AUGUST 3
Sao Paulo and t h e sun setting fast-bright signs
light up one by one on top of the massive skyscrap
ers. Royal pal m trees rise up between t h e buildings
and the u n i nterrupted song of thousands of birds,
welcomi n g the day ' s end, is h eard, m u ffl i n g the
low-pitched car horns which an nounce the return
of the businessmen . D i n ner w i t h Oswald de An
drade , remarkable character (develop t h i s) . His
poin t of view is that Bra z i l is populated w i t h primi
tive people and that i t ' s for the best.

SOUTH AMERICA

1 15

The city of Sao Pau lo, strange c i t y , l i m i t less

Ora n .
Stupidly I forgot t o note the t h i n g w h i c h
touched me the most . O n S a o P a u l o radio there's
a program i n w h i c h poor people go on the a i r to
speak of their problems and ask for h e l p . T h i s eve
n i n g a large , poorly dressed black man w i t h a l i ttle
girl of

months i n h i s arms and the baby 's bottle

i n h i s pocket explained fran k l y and simply that

since h i s w i fe had abandoned h i m , h e was looki n g
for someone who would t a k e care of the c h i ld
without stea l i n g her from h i m . A n ex-fighter pilot,
u nemployed , was looki n g for a job as a mech a n i c ,
etc . T h e n , i n the offices , we wait for telephone
calls from the l i steners. Five m i n u tes a fter the end
of the program , the phone is ringing consta n t l y .
Everybody offers somet h i n g . W h i l e the b l a c k m a n
is on the p h o n e , t h e ex-pi lot rocks the i n fa n t i n h i s
arms. And here ' s the best one: a large , older black
man , h a l f-dressed , comes i n to the offices. H e was
sleeping and his w i fe , who was l isten i n g to the pro
gra m , woke h i m up and said: " Go get the c h i ld . "

AUGUST 4
Press conference in the morn i n g . L u n c h sta n d i n g
up at A ndrade ' s . I don ' t rea l l y know w h y , but a t 3
o'cloc k , I ' m taken to t h e city pen i ten tiary , " t h e

1 1 6 AMERICAN JOURNALS
most beautifu l one i n Brazi l . " S l I n fac t , i t i s beauti
ful , like a penitentiary in an A merican fi l m . Except
for the odor , the h ideous odor of man t h a t l i n gers
in every prison . I ron bars , doors, bars, doors, etc.
A n d the signs. " Be good " and above all " Opti
m i s m . " I feel ashamed in front of one or two of
the prisoners-and these are ones w i t h special
privi leges-who have service jobs in the priso n .
Then the doctor-psychiatrist treats m e to a n i nter
m i nable d i ssertation on the classification of per
verse m e n t a l i t i e s . A n d as I leave, someone repeats
the r i t u a l i s t i c , " M ake yourse l f at home here" to
me.
I forgo t . O n our way t h e r e , we w e n t d o w n a

street fu l l of prost i t u tes. They stand beh i nd b l inds

t h rough w h ich they can be see n , a n d for t h e most
part they ' re c h a r m i n g look i n g . You discuss the
price t h rough ope n i n gs i n the b l i n d s , w h i c h are
pai n ted a l l colors : gree n s , red s , yellows, sky blue.
They are caged birds.
Then c l i m b i n g up a

little skyscrape r .

Sao

Paulo in the n i gh t . The fairy tale aspect of m odern

cities w i t h t w i n k l i n g avenues and rooftops. Sur
rounded by coffee and orc h i d s . But i t ' s difficult to
imagi n e .

SOUTH AMERICA

1 17

Then Andrade tells me h i s theory : c a n n i bal

ism as a vision of the world. Confron ted w i t h the
failure of Descartes and science , return to t h e
prim itive fer t i l i zation : matriarchy and a n t h ropo
phagy . S i nce the first bishop to arrive in Bahia was
eate n , Andrade dates his review from the year

3 1 7 , the year of the i n gestion of Bishop Sardine

(he was named Sardine).
Last h ou r . A fter my lecture, A n d rade i n forms
me that i n the model penitentiary t h ey have seen
prisoners com m i t suicide by beati n g their h eads
against the walls and by closing drawers agai nst
their throats to t h e poi n t of su ffocation .

AUGUST 5 , AUGUST 6 , AUGUST 7

(The trip to I guape)g2
We leave for the religious festivals of I guape, but
at

10

i nstead of

as p l a n n e d . In fac t we were sup

posed to drive a l l day i n l a n d , on the deplorable

Brazi lian roads, and i t would have been better to
arrive before n i g h t fa l l . But there were delays, t h e
c a r was n ' t read y , e t c . We leave S a o Paulo and be
gin drivi ng south . The road , whether made of dirt
or ston e , is covered w i t h red dust , and the vegeta
tion on each side of the road for h a l f a m i le is cov
ered w i t h

layer of dried m u d . A fter several m i les

1 1 8 AMERICAN JOURNALS

we too-that is, the driver who looks l i k e A u guste

Com te; A n d rade and his son , whose head is ful l of
p h i losophers; Sylvestre , the French c u l tural at
tache; and myself-are covered with

the same

dust. I t gets i n t h rough every ope n i n g i n the large

Ford pickup truck and slowly fi l l s up our noses and
mouths. O n top of i t all a ferocious sun that roasts
the earth and bri n gs all l i fe to a h a l t . A fter t h i rty
m i les, a disturbi n g noise. We stop. A spring i n
front is broken , visibly sticking o u t from t h e clus
ter of spri n gs and brush i n g agai nst t h e rim of the
tire. A u guste Comte scratches h i s head and an
nounces that we can get i t fi xed ten m i les u p the
road. I advise him to take t h e broken spring out
i m mediately before i t gets wedged aga i n s t t h e tire.
But he's opt i m istic about it. We go another t hree
m i les

and

stop-t h e

spri n g

is

stuc k .

A uguste

Comte decides to get a tool : from a chest i n the

back of the truc k , h e p u l l s out a t h i c k iron rod
w h i c h he uses as a h a m m e r , ba n g i n g it h arder and
harder aga i n s t the plate, i m agi n i n g that h e can
force i t loose .
I explain t h a t t h e re ' s a n u t to take off and the
t i re i tsel f. But finally I rea l i z e t h a t he's set out on
t hese bad roads for a long trip w i t h o u t a monkey
wrenc h . We wa i t , beneath a sun that could k i l l , un
t i l fi na l l y a truck comes along, a n d t h e driver,
thank goodness, has a mon key wrenc h . T h e tire is

SOUTH AMERICA

1 19

taken off, the nut u n screwed , a n d the plate of the

spri ng is fi n a l l y removed . We set out aga i n be
tween the pa le, craggy mounta i n s ; from t i m e to
time we sight a starv i n g water buffalo w i t h a n es
cort of sad vultures . At I o' clock we arrive in P ie
dade , a n unpleasa n t l i t t l e v i l lage , where we're
warm ly welcomed by the i n n keeper Dona A nesia
whom , a t one t i m e , A ndrade must have courted.
Served by M a r i a , a n I ndian metis, who ends up of
fering me artificial flowers . A n i n term i n able Bra
zilian meal which one manages to get down t h a n ks
to the

pinga,

which is t h e name of the local

cachasa.

In the meantime they've repaired the spr i n g , and

we leave . We're constantly asce n d i n g and the air i s
becoming very t h i n . T here a r e i m m ense u n i n ha
bited and uncultivated expanses. T h e terrible soli
tude of this u n l i m ited w ilderness explai n s certai n
t h i ngs about t h i s country. Arrive at P i lar at 3 . But
there Auguste Comte real i zes that h e ' s made a
m istake. We're told that we've driven 40 m iles too
far . W h ic h mea n s , here , two or t h ree hours of
traveling. Our bodies ach i n g from the bumpy ride ,
and covered with dust, we set off to find the right
road. In fact, i t ' s not until the e n d of the day that
we begin to descend the other side of the Serra . I
have time to see the first m i les of virgin forest, the
density of this sea of vegetation , to i magine the
solitude i n the middle of this u nexplored worl d ,
a n d n ight falls as we plunge i n to the forest. We

1 20 AMERICAN JOURNALS

drive for hours, p i t c h i n g and roc k i n g along a nar

row road t h a t r u n s between w a l l s of h i gh trees,
amid a t h i c k , s u gary odor. From t i m e to time
t h rough the t h ick ness of the fores t , fireflies pass,
and birds w i t h red eyes brush aga i n s t the w ind
s h i e l d . Apart from t h a t the i m m obi l i ty a n d m ute
ness of t h i s dreadfu l world are abso l u t e , even
though from time to time A ndrade t h i n ks h e ' s
heard a n oce lot . The road weaves and w i n d s , con
t i n ues over bridges of sway i n g p l a n k s that cross l i t
tle r i vers. Then comes the fog and a fi n e rain that
d i s s o l ves the light from our head l i g h t s . W e ' re not
d r i v i n g , but l i tera l l y creep i n g along. I t ' s al most

P.M . .

we ' ve been on the road s i nce 1 0

A.M .

and our

fa t i gue i s such that we receive with a certa i n fatal

ism A u guste Com t e ' s a n n ouncement that we're
ru n n i n g out of gas . However, the forest i s not
q u i te so t h ick-and slow l y , t h e landscape i s chan g
i n g . We fi n a l l y reach t h e open a i r and a small vil
lage wh ere we're h a l ted by a large river. Light sig
n a l s on the other side and we see a large ferry boat
approac h i n g by means of rods p u l led by m ulattoes
in straw h a t s , the oldest system t h ere i s . We em
bark and the ferry d r i fts slowly across the R i beira
river. The river i s wide and flows gen t l y towards
the sea and the n i g h t . On the ba n k s the forest is
s t i l l dense . Misty stars i n the thick sky. O n board
nobody spea k s . The absol ute silence of t h e hour is
broken only by the lappi n g of the river against the

SOUTH AMERICA

121

flanks of the ferry . I n the bow of the ferry , I watch

the river descend ; the strangeness of this setting,
which is nonetheless fam i l i a r . B i zarre bird cries
and the call of bullfrogs rise from the two ban k s .
At this exact moment it i s m i d n i g h t i n Paris.
D isembarkment. Then we con t i n u e to creep
towards Registro, a true Japanese capital i n the
middle of Brazi l , H w h ere

have the

time

to

glimpse houses delicately decorated and even a

k i mono. W e ' re told that I guape is only 40 m i les
farther.
We set off aga i n . A humid breeze, a n i n ces
san t m ist i n dicate that the sea is not far . The road
becomes sand-more difficu l t and dangerous than
i t was before . I t ' s midnight when we finally arrive
at I guape . Not counting stops, i t took us ten hours
to drive the 1 80 m i les that separate us from Sao
Paulo.
Everyth i n g is closed at the hotel . A distin
guished townsman , whom we meet by chance i n
the n i g h t , takes u s to the mayor' s house ( h e ' s
called the prefect here) . T h rough the door t h e
mayor t e l l s u s that w e ' re sleep i n g at the hospital .
Set off for the hospi tal . Despite m y fatigue, t h e
city seems to me to be beautifu l , with its colon ial
churches, the nearby forest, its low , n aked houses

1 2 2 AMERICAN JOURNALS

and the thick softness of the damp air. A n drade

i magi nes that we can h ear the sea . But i t ' s far. At
the Happy Memory Hospital (that's its name), the
friendly city father leads us to a renovated ward
that smells of fresh pai n t from th irty yards away . 55
W e ' re told that i n fact i t ' s been repa i n ted i n our
honor. But there's no l i g h t : the local power plant
shuts down at I I

P.M.

In the glow from our lighters

we nonetheless see six clean and simple beds. I t ' s

o u r dormi tory . We put d o w n o u r suitcases. And
the city father wants us to j o i n h i m for a sandwich
at his club. E x h a usted , we go to the club. 56 The
club is a kind of second floor bistro where we meet
other distingu i s h ed persons w h o shower u s with
their respects. Once again I notice the exquisite
Brazi l i a n pol i teness, perhaps a bit ceremonious,
but still much better than the Eu ropean tactless
ness. Sandwich and beer. But a tall imbecile who
can hardly stand on h i s own feet is struck w i t h the
curious idea of demand i n g to see m y passport. I
show h i m my passport , and he tells me that i t ' s in
val i d . T i red, I send him pack i n g . I ndignant, the
personages h uddle together for a moment, and
t h e n come over to tell me that they ' re goi n g to put
this policeman (for that's what he is) i n priso n , and
that I will be able to choose the c harges that I
wan t to press against h i m . I beg of them not to put
h i m in prison . They explain to me that this foul
mouthed i m becile has d isregarded the great honor

SOUTH AMERICA

123

that I have done I guape , and that h i s bad manners

must be punished. I protes t . But they ' re deter
m i ned to honor me i n this way. The affair lasts un
til the fol lowing eve n i n g w h e n I fi n a l l y fi n d the
right approach , asking them , as a personal fa vor to
m e , to spare t h i s scatter-brai ned policema n . They
proclaim m y c h i va l ry and tell me that i t shall be
done accord i n g to m y wishes. 7
In any case, the night of the drama we leave
for

the

hospital

and

h a l fway

there

meet

the

mayor, who has gotten u p to accompany us to our

beds . H e has also awakened the power plant per
son nel , and we have lights. They make sure w e ' re
comfortable almost to the poi n t of tuck i n g us i n ,
a n d fi n a l l y , a t I

A.M .

overw h e lmed w i t h fatigue, w e

try t o sleep . I say try because m y bed slants a little

and my neighbors turn from side to side and A u
guste Comte snores ferociously . F i n a l l y , very late,
I fal l i nto a dreamless sleep.

AUGUST 6
Wake up very ear l y . U n fortunately , no water i n
t h i s hospita l . I shave a n d wash a l i ttle u s i n g m i n
eral water. T h e n t h e personages arrive a n d take u s
to the main ward for breakfast . F i n a l l y , we g o o u t
into I guape .

1 24 AMERICAN JOURNALS

I n the little garden of the Foun ta i n , 5 8 soft and

mysterious with c lusters of flowers between the
banana trees and the palms, I regain a l i ttle ease
and tranqu i l li t y . In front of a grotto, some metis,
m u lattoes and the first gauchos that I ' ve seen wait
patiently to obtain some pieces of the " growing
ston e . " I n fact I guape is a city where an effi gy of
the Good Jesus was found i n the water by some
fishermen who came to this grotto to wash it. Ever
since , a stone grows there i n e l uctably, and people
come to c h i sel off beneficent pieces of i t . The city
itself, between the forest and the river, is crowded
around the large c h u rch of the Good Jesus. Sev
eral h u n dred houses in a single style- low , stuc
coed, m u l ticolored .

Beneath the fine rai n that

soa ks its badly paved streets, with the motley

crowd-gauchos, Japanese ,

I ndians,

metis,

ele

gan t , distinguished persons-w hich is its popula

tion, I guape bears the colonial sta m p . The melan
choly there is particular; it's the melancholy of
places that are at the ends of the earth . Aside from
the heroic route that we too k , only two weekly
flights connect I guape to the rest of the world.
One could find refu ge here .
T h roughout the day the k i ndness of our hosts
is consta n t . But we've come for the processi o n . As
soon as

the afternoon

begi ns

firecrackers are

goi ng off everywhere, start l i n g i n to fl ight the bald

SOUTH AMER ICA

1 25

vultures adorn i n g the rooftops . The c r o w d gets

bigger. SGme of these pilgrims have been travel
ling the deplorable i n l a n d roads for five days. One
of them who looks Assyria n , w i t h a beautifu l black
beard , tells us that he was saved by the Good jesus
from a s h i pwrec k , after one night a n d one day
stranded in high seas , and that he has vowed to
carry a 1 3 0-pound stone on his head for the e n t i re
procession . 59
church

come

The

hour

pen i tents

approaches.
in

surplices:

From

the

fi rst

the

blac k s , then the w h i tes; then c h i ldren dressed as

angels ; then the " c h i ldren of M a ry " ; then a n ef
figy of t h e Good J esus h i m self, beh i n d w h ich the
bearded man advances, barechested a n d carry i n g
a n enormous s l a b on h i s head. F i n a l l y a n orchestra
comes, play i n g a double-step and, at t h e end of the
processio n , the crowd of p i l g r i m s , w h ich is the
only really i n terest i n g sigh t , the rest being ordi
nary and rather sord i d . B u t the crowd that pro
ceeds down a narrow stree t , fi l l i n g i t a l most to
bursting, is one of the stra n gest assemblages that
one could imagine. The ages , races , the colors of
the clothes, the c lasses, the i n firm ities, all are
m i xed together i n a gaudy , osc i l l a t i n g mass, lit up
at i n tervals by bursts of holy candles, above w h i c h
firecrackers explode i n cessa n t l y . F r o m t i m e t o
t i m e an a i rplane-out of place i n t h i s ageless
world-al so passes overhead . Mobi l i zed for the
occasion , i t rumbles by at regular i n tervals above

1 26 AMERICAN JOURNALS

the personages in their elegance and the Good

Jesus. We go to wait for the procession at another
strategic poi n t , and when it passes i n fron t of us,
the bearded man i s w i n c i n g with fat i gue and h i s
legs a r e trem b l i n g . But he makes i t t o the e n d
nonetheless. T h e bel l s ring, stores and houses o n
the route of the procession w h i c h had closed their
doors a n d w indows now open them-and we go to
dinner.
A fter d i n n e r , i n the square t h e you ng gauchos
sing, a n d everyone sits i n a circle arou nd them.
The fi recrackers con t i n u e , a n d a child gets a fin
ger blown off. He cries a n d scream s as t h e y ' re tak
i n g him away . "Why d i d the Good J esus do that?"
(Th i s cry of the sou l is translated for m e . )
I g o r i g h t t o bed because w e ' re lea v i n g early
the next day . But the fi recrackers and the horren
dous sneezes of A u guste Comte keep me from fall
i n g asleep until very late.

AUGUST 7
Same road , but we avoid t h e detou r of the other
day , and we cross t h ree rivers. Saw a h u m m in g
bird. And once aga i n for hours I watch this mo
notonous nature a n d these i m mense spaces: one
can ' t say they are beautifu l , but they c l i n g i n sis-

SOUTH AMERICA

127

tently t o the sou l . Cou n t ry where the seasons are

confused with one another, where the vegetation
is so i n tertwi ned as to become formless, where
bloods are so m i xed up that the soul loses its bor
ders . A loud splas h i n g , the sea-green l i g h t of the
forests , the varn ish of red dust w h ich covers a l l
thi ngs, the m e l t i n g of t i m e , the slowness of t h e
country, the brief and extravaga n t excitement of
the big c i t ies- i t ' s the cou n t ry of i n d i fference and
blood-explosions. Try as i t m ig h t t h e skyscraper
has yet to overcome the spirit of the forest - the
i m mensity, the melancholy. Sambas- t h e authen
tic ones-best express w h a t I m ea n .
B u t t h e last t h i rty m i les are t h e most exhaust
ing. D r i v i n g prude n t l y , Auguste Comte lets every
one pass us. But each car raises so much red dust
that the head lights can ' t penetrate t h i s m i neral
fog and we have to stop the car. We no longer
know where we are, and I feel m y nostrils and
mouth bei ng pasted with su ffocating m u d . Sao
Paulo, the hotel and a hot bat h are a welcome re
lief.

AUGUST S
A l l the latitudes and longitudes w h ich still l i e be
fore me make me nauseou s . Gloom y , agitated day
( I ' m writing t h i s in the plane that's flying m e to

1 28 AMERICAN JOUR NALS

Fort A lesa) . At 1 1

A.M.

Brazi l i a n phi losophers come

to ask m e for several "explanation s . " Lunch at a

young couple's house , both French professors.
Charming. Then a visit to t h e A l l iance Francaise.
Walk with M m e . P. t h rough t h e streets of Sao
Paulo where

happen

upon a photo of my

self, which makes me feel modest. Cockta i l s at

Valeu r ' s .

D i nner a t Sylvestre ' s .

Lecture.

Once

aga i n the auditorium is packed and some people

have

to

stand .

brought me some

thoughtfu l

Gauloises. 40

French

girl

has

A fter the lecture I ' m

taken t o a t h eater t o hear a Brazi lian woman sing.

Then champagne a t A ndrade ' s . I return to t h e ho
tel drai ned and exhausted , t i red of h u m a n faces.

AUGUST 9
A ndrade and Sylvestre are emotional , etc . , as I
depart for Porto A legre . Lunch on t h e p l a n e . For
the fi rst t i m e a s l i g h t attack of asth m a . But no one
notices. I n Porto Alegre i t ' s b i t ter cold . Four or
five frozen Frenchmen are wai t i n g for me at the
a i rport . T h ey tell me that I ' m supposed to lecture
t h i s eve n i n g , an event w h i c h was not scheduled.
V iew from Kapotes4 1 -the l i g h t is very beautifu l .
C i t y u g l y . Despite its fi v e rivers. These islands of
civi l i zation are often h ideous . Lecture in t h e eve
n i n g . People are t urned away . The press exagger
ates i t . But t h is amuses me more t h a n anything

SOUTI-1 AMERICA

1 29

else. I j u st want to leave and to fi n i s h with i t , to

finish once and for a l l . Someone notices that I
don ' t have my visa for C h i l e . I have to stop at
Montevideo , telegraph , etc .

AUGUST 1 0
Walk i n the c i t y . At 2

P.M.

the airplane, w here I ' m

writing t h i s a n d w h a t precedes i t . Terrible sadness

and a fee l i n g of isolation . M y mail hasn ' t reached
me and I'm trave l i n g farther and farther away
from it.
The French officials i n M o n tevideo do not
greet me warm ly. M y lecture dates had to be
changed several times. But I wasn ' t responsible for
that. They've even neglected to reserve a room
for me. I w i n d up, feel i n g blue, in a kind of closet
-where nonetheless I feel better by myself than I
did before w i t h t hose who were forced to be m y
h o s t s . I stay up l a t e , pac i n g the room , and concen
trating my w i l l on not weaken i n g psyc h ically be
fore the end of the trip.
Obl iged to adm i t that for the first time i n my
l i fe I feel myse l f i n the middle of a psych ological
collapse . Despite all my efforts this delicate bal
ance, w h ich up u n t i l now has w i t hstood every
t h i n g , is bei n g upse t . T here are glaucous waters

1 30

A MER ICA N JOUR NALS

within me where vague forms pass , diluting my

energies . I n a way this depression is hellish. If my
hosts here knew the effort I was making just to
seem normal , they would at least make an effort to
smile from time to time.

AUGUST l l
Wake up early, write some letters. Then , with no
news from my official chaperones, I go out into a
beautifu l , icy day to look around Montevideo. The
tip of the city is bathed by the yellow waters o f the
La Plata river. Airy and orderly, Montevideo is
surrounded by a necklace of beaches and a mari
time boulevard which

find

rather beautiful.

There's comfort i n this city, which seems easier to

live in than others I ' ve see n . M imosas i n the resi
dential neighborhoods; palms make me think of
Menton . Also relieved to be i n a Spanish-speaking
country . Return to the hote l . M y official chaper
ones wake up. I ' l l leave this even i n g for Buenos
Aires on the La Plata riverboat. Lunch at the cul
tural attache's house. Quai d' Orsay and flowery
stupidities . In the eve n i n g the boat leaves Monte
video. Once again I watch the moon on the muddy
waters. But my heart is colder than it was on the

Campana.

SOUTH AMERICA

13 1

AUGUST 1 2
Morning. Buenos Aires. Enormous accu mulation
of houses jutting out. W . R . is waiting for m e . We
discuss the question of lectures. I hold fi r m , add
ing t h a t my lecture, i f I give it, w i l l be i n part
about freedom of expression . He supposes t h a t ,
like every t h i n g else , my lecture c o u l d b e subjected
to a pre l i m i nary readi n g by the censors, a n d I
warn h i m t h a t I would fla t l y refuse. I n that case
he's of the opi nion that i t ' s better not to go look
ing for trouble.42 Same for the a m bassador . Tour
of the c i ty-exceptionally ugly. Some people in
the afternoon . I end up a t V . O . ' s . 4 3 Large , pleas
ant house i n the

Gone with the Wind style . Grand

and old luxury. I want to lie down there and sleep

until t h e end of the wor l d . In fac t , I do fa ll asleep.

AUGUST 1 3
Good n i gh t . I awake to a col d , hazy day . From her
bedroom V . sends m e some letters. Then t h e
newspapers. The Peron ist press either i gnored o r
softened the declaration I m a d e yesterday a fter
noo n . Lunch with the d i rector of the
pos i t ion

newspaper) ,

police

Prensa (op

proceedings,

etc.

A fternoo n , forty people. Lea v i n g there, d i n ner

w i t h V . and talk u n t i l midnigh t . S h e plays Britten ' s

Rape of Lucretia and some record i n gs of Baude-

1 3 2 A MER ICA N JOUR NALS

laire's poems-wonderfu l . First evening of real re
laxation since my departure . I should stay here un
til

the

day

return-to

avoid

the

continual

struggle that is exhausting m e . There is a tempo

rary peace in this house .

AUGUST 1 4
At

A.M.

no news about the airplane that's sup

posed to take me to C h i l e . At noon they call . Day

spen t at V . ' s waiting to leave . Rafael Alberti is
there, with his wife . N ice. I know that h e ' s a Com
munist. Finally I explain my poin t of view to h i m .
A n d h e agrees w i t h m e . B u t o n e day slander w i l l
separate me from this man w h o should remain a
comrade . W h a t ' s to be done? W e ' re in the age of
separatio n . Finally, at sunset, t h e airplane leaves.
We pass the A ndes at night (the symbol of this
trip), and I see not h i n g . At most , I catch sight of
the snow-covered ridges i n the dar k . But I had
time before nightfa l l to see the i m m e nse and mo
notonous pampas-endless . Through a velvety sky
the descen t i nto Santiago is done in a flash . At our
feet a forest of b l i n k i n g stars. Caressing soft ness of
these cities, which are spread out i n the night
along the edge of oceans.

SOUTH AMERICA

133

AUGUST 1
O n the Pacific with Charvet and Fron . C h . talks to
me about the i n fluence of earthqua kes on the C h i
leans' behavior. Five h u ndred qua kes per year-of
which several are catastrop h i c . T h i s creates a psy
chology of i nstabi l i t y . The C h ilean is a gambler,
spends every t h i n g h e makes, and i n d u l ges i n capri
cious pol itics.
We drive: t h e Pacific covered w i t h long w h i te
rol l s . Santiago tucked in between the waters and
the A ndes-violent colors (the marigolds are rust
colored) , flowering p l u m and almond trees stand
out against a background of snowy peaks-won
derfu l cou n t ry .
A fternoo n :

bushed .

At

six,

symposium

where I ' m i n good shape. D i n ner at Charvet 's

where I ' m completely depressed. From fatigue I
drink too much and go to bed late . Wasted t i m e .

AUGUST 1 6
I n fernal day. Radio, tourism . Lunch w i t h V i ncent
A n i dobre ' s son i n a little house a t the foot ot t h e
A ndes. Symposium here w i t h s o m e theater peopl e .
At 7

P.M.

a lecture w h ich is tiring because the audi

torium is so dense with people. Dinner a t the em-

1 34 AMERICAN JOURNALS
bassy . I was bored to tears. Only the ambassador is
amusing; yesterday h e took off his jacket and
danced .

AUGUST 1 7
Day of disturbances and riots. Yesterday t h ere
were demonstrations. But toda y , i t ' s l i ke a n earth
quake overta k i n g them . The issue is a price in
crease for the " m icros" (Sa n t iago ' s buses) . They
turn t h e buses over and set them on fire. They
break t h e w i ndows of passi ng ones. I n t h e a fter
noon I ' m told t h a t the u n iversit y , w here the stu
dents were demonstrat i n g , has been closed-and
that my lecture won ' t take place . W i t h i n two hours
the French department has orga n i zed a lecture at
t h e French I ns t i t u t e . W h e n I leave t here, stores
have barred t h e i r w i ndows and armed , helmeted
t roops l i terally occupy the c i t y . Sometimes shoot
ing i n to the a i r . I t ' s a state of siege . D u r i n g the
n i g h t I hear isolated shots.

AUGUST 1 8
A irplane is late, won ' t take off u n t i l nighttime.
The A ndes are blocked . I sleep badly or very l ittle
h ere-and I ' m t i red . The C h a rvets come for me
at eleven , and I'm asleep on my fee t . But their

SOUTH AMERICA

135

ki ndness is not burdensome , and we drive t h rough

the C h i lean coun tryside . The m i mosas and the
weep i n g w i l lows. Bea u t i fu l , strong nature. We stop
for an exce l l e n t l u n c h , eaten i n front of a fi re
place . Then we fork off towards the Andes, and
we stop for a snack at a mountain hote l , once
aga i n i n fron t of a bea u t i fu l fi r e . I feel good in
C h i le and u nder d i fferent c i rcum stances cou ld live
here a l i ttle w h i l e . W h e n we return , we learn t h a t
the a i rplane has b e e n postponed u n t i l tomorrow .
I t ' s pou r i n g . D i n n e r at t h e C h a rvets ' . Go to bed at
m i d n i g h t . At the hotel I fi nd goodbye prese n t s . It
takes me a long t i m e to fa l l asleep.

AUGUST 1 9
At

4:30

A.M.

t h e a i r l i n e company telephones m e . I

should be at t h e field at 6 . At 7 t h e a i rplane takes

off. But, after loo k i n g for a way t h rough , i t de
scends toward the sou t h and a t the end of a 1 2 5mile detour en ters another pass . The A ndes : pro
digious,

shattered

reliefs ,

tea r i n g

t h rough

mountains of clouds-but the snow dazzles me.

We pitch and roll i ncessa n t l y and i n addi tion , I
suffer a fi t of asthma. I narrowly avoid t h e worst
-and pretend to be sleep i n g .
I t ' s n o o n b y the t i m e we reach Buenos A i res.
At t h i s moment t h e lack of sleep i s overw h e l m i n g .

1 36 AMERICAN JOURNALS

V . O . has come to pick me up, but there's no one

from the embassy , and they haven ' t reserved me a
ticket for Montevideo, where I ' m supposed to
speak at

6:30.

T h a n k s to V . we get to Buenos

A i res quickly and then to the seaplane term i n a l .

There a r e no s e a t s available.

V.

telephones a

friend. Every t h i n g is arranged . I leave at

4:45

in

overca s t , yellow weather above yellow waters. A t

6: I 5,

M o n tevideo. The embassy has s e n t someone

who tells me that they have decided to cancel the

lecture and to take me to the French h igh school
i nstead . T here the director tells me that some peo
ple have shown up anyway , and t h a t he does n ' t
k n o w what to do. I suggest a debate, e v e n t hough
I ' m ex hausted . They accept and schedule two lec
tures for me for the next day, one a t I I , the other
at

6.

Debate . And I go to bed , dru n k w i t h fatigue.

AUGUST 20
Brutal day . I O A . M . journalists and A . ; a t I I , the
first lecture , i n a n auditorium a t the U n i versity. In
the middle of t h e lec t u re a strange character en
ters the auditorium . A cape , short beard, a dark
gaze . He stands at the back of the room, and con
spicuously opens a magazine and reads it. From
time to time he coughs loud l y . He, a t least , adds
some l i fe to the auditorium . A moment with jose
Bergamin , 44 refined, face deeply etched, with the

SOUTH AMERICA

1 37

worn-out look of a Spanish i n tel lectua l . He does n ' t

w a n t to choose between Catholicism and Commu
nism as long as the Spanish war is not over. A hy
pertense man whose energy is purely spiritual . I
love this kind of man .
Bergamin : my most profound temptation is
suicide . And spectacular suicide. (Return to Spain
at the risk of being condemned, resist , and d i e . )
L u n c h with several n ice couples, professors o f
Frenc h . At

4,

press conference . A t

5,

I s e e the d i

rector of the theater that's goi n g to put on Cali

gula. He wants to stick some ballet in i t . I t ' s an in

ternational m a n i a . A t 6 , M iss Lussitch and the
charmi n g lady who is the cultural attache from
U ruguay take me for a short drive t hrough the
gardens at the entrance to the city. The eveni n g i s
soft , short , s l i g h t l y tender. This country is simple
and beautifu l . I relax a little. At 6 : 3 0 , second lec
ture . The ambassador fel t obl i ged to come with
h is better half. Seated i n the first row are the sin is
ter faces of boredom and vulgarity. A fter the
lecture, I take a walk with Bergamin . We end up in
a crowded cafe . H e doubts the effectiveness of
what he's doi n g . I tell him that uncomprom isingly
susta i n i n g

refusal

is

positive

act

whose

consequences are also positive.- Then din ner at

Suzannah Soca' s . A crowd of worldly women who

1 38

AMERICAN JOURNALS

become unmanageable a fter the t h i rd w h iskey.

Several of them l itera l l y proposition me. But they
are n ' t even tempt i n g . A French lady manages to
construct a n apology for Franco i n fron t of me.
Exhausted, I lay i n to her-and rea lize that I 'd bet
ter leave . I ask the cultural attache to have a drink
with me, and we escape . A t least t h i s pretty face
helps me with the struggle of l i v i n g . The light lies
softly on Montevideo. A pure sky, the rust l i n g of
dry palms above Constitution Place, pigeons tak
ing fl i g h t , w h i te in the black sky. The hour would
be simple and my solitude- 1 8 days wi thout news,
without i n t i macy-could be eased a little. But my
charm i n g companion starts reciting for me, i n the
middle of the square , some French verses she has
written , miming the tragic style, arms crossed o n
her breast, voice rising and fal l i n g . I wait i t o u t .
Then we g o h a v e a drin k and I t a k e her home. I
go to bed , but anxiety and melancholy keep me
from sleeping.

AUGUST 2 1
Out of bed at 8

A.M.

I slept

or 4 hours . But the

airplane i s tak i n g off at 1 1 . Beneath a tender,

fresh , cloudy sky, Montevideo unrolls its beaches
-charm i n g city where everyth i n g impl ies happi
ness-and a spiritless happiness. Stupidity of these
airplane trips-barbarian and regressive means of

SOUTH AMERICA

transportation . At 5

P.M.

1 39

we fly over Rio a n d , get

ting off the plane, I am welcomed by this close,

humid

air-the

consistency

of

cotton-wool

which I had forgotten and which is pec u l iar to

R i o . At the same t i m e , s h r i l l and m u l ticolored par
rots and a peacock w i t h a discordan t voice . Barely
capable of going to bed , and sti l l without news,
since there was no mail waiting for me at the em
bassy .

AUGUST 2 2
They bring me my mai l ; i t had been sitting for I 8
days in some office. Tired, I stay in my room a l l
day . Eveni n g , a lecture, a fter w h i c h a d r i n k a t
M m e . M i neur's. Go to bed w i t h a fever.

AUGUST 2 3
Get up a little better. M y departure is approach
i n g . I t ' l l b e Thursday or Saturda y . I t h i n k of Paris
as i f i t were a m onastery . Lunch at Copacabana
facing the sea . The waves are high and supple. I t
relaxes me a l i ttle t o watch them . Return t o the
hote l . I sleep a little. A t 5, public debate with the
Brazilian students. I s i t the fatigue? It's never been
so easy for me. D i n ner at the Claveries' with M m e .
R . , ravish ing woman but, i t seems to m e , without
dept h .

1 40 AMERICAN JOURNALS

AUGUST 2 4
I get up feel i n g even better than yesterda y . The
departure has now been set for Saturday. Visitors
in the morn i n g and the fatigue returns. To the
extent that I decide not to have l u n c h . At 1 : 3 0
Pedrosa a n d h i s w i fe come t o take me t o see paint
i n gs by the insane, in a suburban hospital of mod
ern lines a nd ancient fi l t h .

My heart contracts

seeing faces behind the ta l l , barred wi ndows. Two

i n teresting pai n ters. Without a doubt the others
have what i t takes to send progressive Parisian
m i nds into ecstasy . But, i n fac t , it's u g l i ness. Even
more stri k i n g i n the ugly and vulgar sculptures.
I ' m appalled when I recogn ize a psych iatrist from
the hospital as the young man w h o , in the begin
n i n g , asked me the most idiotic question I was
asked i n all of South A merica . H e ' s the one who
decides

the

fate

of these

u n fort u n a te people.

M oreover, he's i n the advanced stages of i l lness

h imself. But I ' m even more appal l ed when h e tells
me that h e ' s goi n g to make the trip to Paris with
me on Saturda y . Enclosed with him i n a metal
cabi n for

36

hours- t h i s is the final ordea l .

I n t h e eve n i n g , dinner at Pedrosa ' s w i t h some

intellige n t people. Driving rai n as I return to the
hotel .

SOUTH AMERICA

141

AUGUST 2 5
Grippe . Without a doubt I ' m not sui ted to t h i s c l i
mate . I work a little during the morn i n g , then go
to the zoo to see the slot h .
B u t t h e sloth i s at liberty a n d o n e is obliged to
look for h i m i n the park ' s th ousands of trees . I let
it drop. Splendid ocelots at least ; h i deous l i zards
and the a n teate r . Lunch with Letarget at Copaca
ban a . Rio is vei led by an i ncessa n t ra i n that fi l l s the
holes i n the roads and sidewalks and dissolves the
fa lse gloss w i t h w h i c h they have tried to cover i t .
The colonial city reappears and I must s a y i r ' s
more attractive l i k e t h i s w i t h its m u d , i t s tram
pling, its steamy sky. Errands i n the afternoon .
Every t h i n g I

fi n d in

t h i s cou n t ry comes from

somewhere else. At 5 o ' clock in the eve n i n g , at the

M endes' house. Once aga i n a h u ge crowd and I ' m
bored without having the strength t o h ide i t . P h ys
ica l l y , I can no longer endure large gatherings of
people. Same t h i n g at din ner where there are
seven of us-when I thought i t would only be Ped
rosa and Barleto-where everyone, by i n creasing
the amplitude of h i s voice , i n terrupts everyone
else . With m y grippe on top of i t a l l , the ordea l be
comes i n ferna l . I would l i ke to go back to the ho
te l , but I don ' t dare say so . At l

A.M .

M me . Pedrosa

sees that I can ' t keep m y eyes ope n , and I go to

bed .

1 42

AMERICAN JOURNALS

AUGUST 26 AND 2 7
Two frightfu l days w h ere I drag about w i t h my
grippe to d i ffere n t places and peop l e , blind to
what

see ,

preoccupied

with

rega i n i n g

my

strengt h , am idst people who, from friendship or

hysteria , perceive nothing of the state I ' m in and
thus make i t a little worse . Eve n i n g at the consu l ' s
w here I h e a r someone com ment that corporal
punishment is a necessity in our colonial armies.
Saturday

P . M.

I ' m notified that the airplane

motor has broken down and that the departure

has been moved to tomorrow , Su nday . The fever
i ncreases and I begin to wonder if i t ' s not a ques
tion of some t h i n g more than the grippe .

AUGUST 3 1
Sick.

Bronc h i t i s at

least .

They

telephone that

w e ' re leaving this a ftern oon . The day is radiant.

Doctor. Penici l l i n . The trip ends i n a metallic cof
fin between an i n sa n e doctor and a diplomat,
heading towards Paris.

Notes-United States

1. Camus makes the trip as a journalist.

2. Port in Saudi Arabia where foreign diplomatic
corps are stationed.
3. I t later becomes known that the positions taken by
Combat, the Resistance newspaper that Camus ed
ited, are the source of this suspicion.
4. An I talian critic and writer, a frienJ of Albert Ca
mus.
5. O ' Brien translated the works of Camus in the
U.S.A.
6. American publisher.
7. Knopf was to become Camus's principal publisher.
8. Lionel Abel, writer and journalist, who translated
Camus's lecture at Harvard.
1 43

1 44

A MER ICAN JOURNALS

9. Waldo Franck, A merican writer who had a long

correspondence with Camus.
1 0. American painter ( 1 847- 1 9 1 7). Exhibited at the
Metropolitan M useum in New York.
1 1 . Painter from U ruguay. Friend of Bonnard .
1 2. T h i s is already t h e theme of The Rebel.
1 3. One finds this disagreement with modern existen
tialism in the letter to the director of the Nef.
(Pleiade, I , p. 1 74 5 , .January 1 946).
14. One finds echoes of this preoccupation in State of
Siege.

1 5. Young American who offered Camus, with great

discretion, free use of his apartment whenever he
wanted it.
1 6. Cf. " La Mer au plus pres" (Pleiade, 1 1 , p. 879): "On
certain days in New York, lost at the bottom of
those stone and steel shafts where millions of men
wander, I would run from one shaft to the next,
without seeing where they ended , until, exhausted,
I was sustained only by the human mass seeking its
way out. " (Translated as "The Sea Close By" in
Lyrical and Critical Essays, New York : Knopf, 1 969,
p. 1 7 3 .)
1 7. "The Rains of New York" (Forms and Colors,
I 94 7), (Pleiade, 1 1 , p . 1 8 29).
1 8. Camus will give this trait to Tarrou's father
(Pleiade, I, p. 1 420).
1 9. A recurrent theme in Neither Victims nor Execution
ers (Ni Vic times ni Bou rreaux, Pleiade, I I , p. 3 3 2 ff.) .

Notes-South America

1. Name that Camus gave his car.

2. Cf. " La Mer au plus pres" (Pleiade, I I , p. 880):
" From time to time the waves lap against the bow;
a bitter, unctuous foam , the gods' saliva, flows
along the wood and loses itself i n the water, where
i t scatters into shapes that die and are reborn, the
hide of some white and blue cow, an exhausted
beast that floats for a long time in our wake . "
(Translated a s "The Sea Close B y " in Lyrical and
Critica l Essays, New York: Knopf, 1 969, p . 1 7 4.)
3. Cf. " La Mer au plus pres, " p . 8 8 2 : "At last , at its
zeni t h , it l ights-a whole corridor of sea , a rich river
of milk which , with the motion of the ship, streams
down inexhaustibly toward us across the dark
ocean . " (Knopf, p. 1 7 6 . )
1 45

1 46 AMERICAN JOURNALS

4.

Cf. " La Mer au plus pres, " p. 8 8 0 : "Thus,

throughout the morning, we hear our sails slap
ping above a cheerful pond. The waters are heavy,
scaly, covered with cool froth . " (Knopf, p. 1 74 )
Cf. " La Mer au plus pres, " p. 8 8 1 : "After an
hour's cooking, the pale water, a vast white-hot
iron sheet, sizzles. In a m inute it will turn and offer
its damp side, now h idden in waves and darkness,
to the sun . " (Knopf, p. 1 7 5 . )
Camus is referring t o an area in t h e southern At
lantic renowned for its lack of wind. The term de
rives from navigators' slang, signifying a place
from which one can not move . Aviators use the
term to refer to poor visibility due to fog.
A region of mountains in Algeria.
French author ( 1 8 88- i 948).
Daniel Hall:vy, French historian ( 1 8 72- 1 962).
Without a doubt this is a memory from his trip to
Mallorca in the summer of 1 9 3 5 , m ixed with the
memory of nationalist repression in Mallorca
which is denounced by Bernanos in A Diary of My
.

5.

6.

7.
8.
9.
1 0.

Times.

1 1 . Belgian poet ( 1 899- 1 984). Author of A Barbarian

in Asia ( 1 9 3 3 ) .
1 2. U ruguayan-born French poet, dramatist , a n d nov
elist ( 1 8 84- 1 960). His works include The Colonel 's
Children (poetry , 1 926), Boliva r (play , 1 9 36), and
A long the Road to Bethlehem (novel, 1 93 3).
1 3. Swiss cnuc, translator, and editor ( 1 90 1 1 957). Beguin translated Hoffmann and Goethe
into French.
14. Was the lover of Auguste Comte, whom she met in
1 844.

NOTES-SOUTH AMERICA

147

Cf. "The Growing Stone" in Exile a n d the Kingdom .

The macumba scene is taken from three journal
fragments.
1 6. Cf. " La Pierre qui Pousse " ("The Growing
Stone"), Pleiade, I, p. 1 6 7 4 .
1 7. Ibid, p. 1 6 6 4 .
1 8. /bid, p . I 6 7 5 .
1 9. Ibid, p. 1 6 7 5 . Most o f the paragraph is used.
20. Ibid, p. 1 6 7 6 . This time it is about a black woman .
2 1 . French historian ( 1 8 7 8 - 1 9 5 6 ) .
22. One sees here the reappearance of the obsession
with the Cold War which creates two opposing
camps, and the idea of an intermediary force
which would balance them.
23. Bay of the state of Bah ia.
2 4 . Approximate quotation from A ctuelles I.
25. B . : probably Belcourt, a suburb of Algiers.
26. Camus had writte n : "in fact, this is how I speak,
1 5.

with more clarity and violence tha n ev e r before . "

2 7. This candom ble appears in "The Growing Stone , "

where it is grafted onto the macumba .
28. French poet ( 1 9 0 7 ) Author of Hypnos Waking: Poetry and Prose ( 1 9 5 6 ) .
2 9 . Camus had published an introduction to Chamfort
in 1 94 4 (cf. Pleiade, I I , p. I 0 9 9 ) .
30. The Minas Gerais, a state in central Brazil .
3 1 . There i s an allusion t o this visit in t h e Dia rio d e Sao
Pa ulo from August 6, 1 94 9 .
32. T h e story " T h e Growing Stone" is set in I guape.
33. Cf. " La Pierre qui Pousse, " p. 1 6 7 5 .
34. Cf. " La Pierre q u i Pouse, " p. 1 6 5 9 .
35. Ibid, p. 1 6 6 0 .
3 6 . Ibid, p. 1 66 2 .
.

1 48

AMERICAN JOURNALS

3 7. All of this episode is taken up again in " La Pierre

qui Pousse, " pp. 1 664 and 1 6 7 2 .
38. Cf. " La Pierre qui Pousse , " p. 1 66 7 .
39. This i s the character called "the cook . " The rest
of the text is found in a transposed form , p. 1 6 80
ff.
40. Cheap, trendy French cigarettes.
4 1 . Camus may have meant Kapok.
42. Cf. above, pp. 96-9 7 .
43 . Victoria Ocampo.
44. Spanish philosopher and essayist.

Chronology

I I . 7 . 1 3 . B i r t h of A l bert C a m u s a t Mondov i , Constan

t i n e , French N o r t h A frica .

I 0 . 1 1 . 1 4 . L u c i e n C a m u s , h i s fa t h e r , is k i l led a t t h e fi rst
Battle

of the

Marne.

His

mother,

nee

Catherine

S i n te s , g o e s to l i ve i n Belcou r t , a w o r k i n g-class s u b u r b
o f A l gi e r s . S h e works as a c h a r w o m a n to p r o v i d e for
C a m u s a n d h i s elder bro t h e r Lucien , w h o are brou g h t
up l a r g e l y by t h e i r maternal gra n d m o t h e r .

1 9 1 8 - 1 9 2 3 . C a m u s a t t e n d s t h e ecole com m unale of B e l

cou r t . H i s Nobel P r i ze speech of 1 9 5 7 i s dedicated t o
h i s teac h e r , Lou i s Germ a i n .

1 9 2 3 . W i n s sc h o l a r s h i p to t h e lycee i n A l giers ( n o w Ly
cee A l bert C a m u s ) .

1 9 2 8 - 1 9 3 0 . I s goal keeper for t h e Raci n g U n i versitaire

d ' A i ge r .

1 49

1 50

AMERICAN JOURNALS

First attack of tuberculosis.

First marriage, to Simone Hie.
1 9 3 4 . Joins Communist Party . Works on the Arab ques
tion . Laval's visit to Moscow in 1 9 3 5 brings about a
change in the Party line, and Camus begins to feel crit
ica l . He did not, however, according to Roger Quil
liot, actually leave the Party until 1 9 3 7, the date at
which the Theatre du Travail, which he had been in
strumental in founding, broke its Comm unist links and
became the Theatre de L ' Equipe.
1 9 3 5 . Begins the cahiers. Completes his licence de philoso
phie (B. A . ) in june. Plays an active part in the Commu
nist Maison de la Cultu re in Algiers. Cooperates in writ
ing Revolte dans les Astu ries, a play about the revolt of
the Oviedo miners in Spa i n . The play was not allowed
to be publicly performed but was privately published.
Begins research on Ploti nus, for his diplome d 'etudes
superieu res (roughly an M . A . by thesis). During the
whole of this time he is supporting himself by various
jobs, and works for the I nstitut de Meteorologie.
1 9 3 6 . May. Successfully presents his thesis, on Neo-Pia
tonisme et Pensee Chretienne. Begi ns to work as an
actor for the touring company of Radio Algiers. His
first marriage is dissolved . In the summer, travels to
Austria and returns via Prague and I taly.
1 9 3 7 . Publication of L 'Envers et L 'Endroit (written
1 9 3 5-6). Compelled to go to Embru n , in France, for
reasons of health in summer, and again travels back
through I taly. Refuses a post as teacher in Sidi-bel
Abbes . Breaks with Com munist Party .
1 9 3 8 . Foundation , in October, of A lger-Repu blicain, an
independent left-wing paper edited by Pascal Pia.
Camus joins the staff, and his first article appears on
October 1 0 , 1 9 3 8 . He reviews books regularly, but
1 930.

1 93 3 .

CHRONOLOGY

151

also writes a large number of other articles. Completes

first version of Caligu la.
1 9 3 9 . January- March . Series of articles in Alger-Repub
licain leading to the acquittal of Michel Hodent. July.
Publication of eleven articles on Kabylia, describing
the poverty of the area and criticizing government
policy . The more important of these were republished
in Actuelles III in 1 9 3 8 , and some were translated in
Rtsista nce, Rebellion, a nd Dea th in 1 9 6 0 .
1 9 3 9 . September. Camus made editor o f t h e evening
paper Le Soir-Republicain, where he signs a number of
articles Jean Mersaul t . Publication of Noces. Rejected
for m i litary service for reasons of health.
1 94 0 . January-February. Both Soir-Republicain and
Alger-Republica in cease to appear. Camus is u nable to
find a job i n Algeria because of his political affi lia
tions, and goes to Paris, where Pascal Pia finds him a
place in Pa ris-Soir. Camus contributed no articles to
this paper, which he disliked, and worked only as a
typesetter.
1 94 0 . June. Leaves Paris with Pa ris-Soi r and goes to
Clermont-Ferrand. Then to Bordeaux and Lyons . De
cember. Second marriage, to Francine Faure.
1 94 1 . Return to Oran. Teaches for a short time i n a pri
vate school. Completes Le Mythe de Sisyphe.
December 1 9 . Execution of Gabriel Peri-an event
which , according to Camus himself, crystallized his re
volt against the Germans.
1 94 2 . Return to France. July. Publication of L 'Etranger.
Camus joins the resistance network Combat in the
Lyons region. January. New attack of tuberculosis.
1 94 3 . Publication of Le Mythe de Sisyphe. First of the
Lettres a un Ami Allemand (translated in Resistance, Re
bellion, and Death). Combat sends him to Paris, where he

1 52

AMERICAN JOURNALS

is by now well known in literary circles. He becomes a

publisher's reader and permanent member of the ad
ministrative staff at Gallimard. In order to avoid ever
feeling that he had to publish books in order to earn
his living, Camus kept this job until the end of his life.
1 94 4 . August. Editor of Combat. His unsigned, and sup
posedly anonymous, editorials are characteristic of the
hopes and aspirations of the liberation period, and,
coming after the first performance, in June 1 94 4 , of
Le Ma lentendu (written 1 942- 1 9 4 3 ) , emphasized the
dual nature of his attitude toward the world.
1 94 5 . Still with Comba t, though writing less frequently.
First performance of Caligula, in September, with Ger
ard Philipe in title role. Publication of Lettres a un Ami
A llemand and of La Rema rque sur la Revolte, starting
point of L 'Homme Revolte. Birth of his twin children,
Catherine and Jea n .
1 94 6 . Visit t o America. (Camus tours N e w England,
New York and Washington , D . C . ) Completion of La
Peste.

June. Publication of La Peste. Great success. On

June 3 , 1 94 7 , Camus leaves Combat, whose fi nancial
difficulties no longer allow an independent editorial
policy.
1 94 8 . October. First performance of L ' E tat de Siege.
1 94 9 . June-August. Lecture tour in South America, de
scribed in detail in America n journals. Camus falls ill,
and has to spend a long time convalescing.
1 9 5 0 . Publication of Actuelles I. Performance of Les

1 94 7 .

justes.
1 9 5 1 . L 'Homme Revolte.

Public quarrel with Sartre.

Replaces Marcel Herrand as producer at the Fes
tival d' Angers. Actuelles II.

1 952.

1 95 3 .

CHRONOLOGY

1 53

Publication of L 'EIR, a collection of essays written

between 1 9 3 9 and 1 9 5 4 . Includes Le Minota ure ou Ia
Ha lte d 'Oran, many passages of which were first writ
ten in the Ga rnets. (Cf. English translation by Justin
O' Brien in the volume containing the 1 9 5 5 English
translation of Le Mythe de Sisyphe . )
1 9 5 5 . Travels to Greece. Goes back to journalism in
L 'Express to support the election campaign of Mendes
France. Appeals for an agreement by both sides in the
Algerian War to respect the civilian population .
1 9 5 6 . Publication of La Chute. Adaptation of Faulkner's
1 954.

Requiem for a Nun.

Publication of the short stories L 'Exil et le Roy

Publication of the Rejlexions sur La Guillotine, in a
companion volume with Arthur Koestler's Reflections
on Hanging. Awarded the N obel Prize for Literature.
1 9 5 8 . Publication of A c tu e l les Ill. Articles on Algeria
dating from 1 9 3 9 - 5 8 .
1 9 5 9 . Adaptation of Dostoevsky 's The Possessed. Camus
continues work on his projected novel Le Premier
1 95 7 .

aume.

Homme.

January 5. Killed in an automobile accident.

The two most useful studies on Camus's life are by
Roger Quilliot, La Mer et les Prisons (Gallimard , 1 9 5 6 ) ,
and by Germaine Bree, Camus (Rutgers, 1 9 59).
1 96 0 .

A Note on the Author

Albert Camus was born on N ovember 7, 1 9 1 3 in Mon

dovi, Algeria. His father, an itinerant agricultural
worker, was killed on the Marne in 1 9 1 4 ; his Spanish
mother worked as a charwoman. While a student at Al
giers U niversity, Camus became active in the propa
ganda war against international fascism and protested
the French establishment's treatment of the Arab popu
latio n . Before the outbreak of World War I I , Camus had
already established a reputation as co-founder (director,
actor, writer, theorist) of a theater for the proletariat,
and as an essayist. U nable to find a job in Algeria due to
his political affiliations, he moved to France in 1 94 2 ,
where h e assumed editorship o f t h e Resistance news
paper Combat until 1 9 4 7 .
Throughout his career, his writings addressed contem
porary political and moral issues (fascism, genocide, co
lonialism , and political repression), as well as philosophi
cal questions, such as the absurdity of modern life . He is
considered by many to be the subtlest and most pro
found seeker of a valid liberal humanism in the twen
tieth century .
Camus's major works include The Myth of Sisyphus and
The Rebel (essays); Ca ligula and State of Siege (drama); and
The Stra nger and The Plague (novels) . He won the N obel
Prize for Literature in 1 9 5 7 . He died on January 5 ,
1 96 0 , i n a n automobile accident.
155