I
COULDN'T THINK OF THE RIGHT TITLE FOR THIS ARTICLE
By Prof. Plinio Corrêa de
Oliveira (*)
Scene:
A small town having all of the conventional characteristics of a small town: a
central public square leading to a graceful church with stained-glass windows,
a tower, bells, and a clock; across from the church, a water fountain; then,
the homes, modest but comfortable; nearby, adjacent to one narrow street, an elementary
school; then, more narrow streets, all of them blending into the peaceful green
pastures at a distance; and not so far away, a dark forest, from which wild
boars and packs of wolves come out with a certain frequency.
First
character: A teacher, who instructs with angelic tenderness and
patience. She is tall, alert, modest, and unpretentious.
Second character: A young shepherdess, who leaves early
every morning to take her sheep to the pastures. She is youthful, pure, loving,
and at case with isolation and prayer.
Third
character: The hunter. He is not an inexperienced amateur, but a
modest public servant, who is called from time to time to recruit the most
courageous men in the small town and lead them into the dark forest to combat
the voracious animals, a hard job indeed, consisting of long journeys and
tiring vigils. He is between 20 and 30 years old, strong and powerful, a leader
made for the job. His hair is thick and bushy; his walk, firm and heavy; his handshake,
strong, enabling one to feel the calluses on his, fingers. Early in the
morning, one may see him coming back from a hunt, frequently carrying upon his
shoulders a dead animal, still dripping warm blood. He is jovial and dedicated,
and ever since he accepted the job, not a single wolf has come into the town,
nor has a wild boar destroyed the plantations. When he crosses the central
public square, the comments that are made about him are not all identical. Some
find him agreeable, appreciating his happy and youthful courage and his frank
and masculine outlook. But others resent him. His presence in town makes them
uncomfortable, especially when he recalls some of the unpleasant dangers he
faces in the forest. The coldness with which he hunts, corners, wounds, and then
kills animals blurs the vision of these persons, making it difficult for them
to perceive the kindness of his soul. To see him happily carrying the
blood-dripping body of an animal in the exercise of his brave profession, raises in the minds of some of his fellow
residents the impression that he might be capable of spilling the blood of
anything, even a human being. To sum the whole matter up, to some he appears to
be the personification of masculinity, dedication, and talent; to others, he is
a hideous image of fighting, violence, and war.
Fourth
character: The grandfather. He looks his role, having a long
white beard, deep clear eyes, and shaky and bony hands. He is a little deaf.
Fifth
character: A retired business agent. He is between 50 and 60
years old, a little too fat, with beady eyes which move constantly. He is
always changing the tone of his voice. At times it is serene; at other times,
harsh; and at other times, almost whispering. He has traveled many places,
analyzed many things, and become a little rich. He is the boss of the town,
having solid contacts in all of the neighboring towns and villages. Through his
hands pass all of the significant decisions, and
everyone goes to him for advice about serious matters. By being in contact with
him, everyone learns what is happening outside of the village and region.
Setting:
A bar, small and crowded, where a subject of conversation has been established,
and ideas about it are passing from one table to the next.
Theme:
Everyone is talking about the main events of the year, and the conversation
leads to the question of who is the most popular person in town?
There are many opinions. Some say it is the beautiful
young shepherdess. When she leaves with her flock, she appears to be going out
to meet her enchanted prince, so graceful and delicate is she.
When she returns slightly tired, she draws sympathy
from all, as she symbolizes in a charming way the hardships of the pastoral
work in which the residents of the region are engaged.
Others choose the teacher. To them, she represents
learning, wisdom, culture, the wonderful goods of the spirit, and the opening
of new opportunities for future generations. She is more than an agent of
economic production; she is a factor of human edification. To them, she is a
shepherdess of children, which should be worth more than to be the shepherdess
of sheep. They recall the tenderness with which she conducts the children
toward the central public square, to lead them in prayer, with the sound of the
bells announcing the end of the activities of the day. They also recall the way
she leads, afterwards, the children in play, around the fountain, singing and
skipping, before taking them back to their homes.
Nobody knows with certainty whom to choose. There
isn't a person who fails to appreciate both of them. But soon the leaders of
two trends of thought begin to appear, seeking the answer to a higher problem.
Which is worth more: the prosperity symbolized by the one, or the knowledge
symbolized by the other? And from another point of view, which deserves the
greater honor: the grace of the shepherdess, or the sweet seriousness of the
teacher? These are universal problems, problems of all times, which for this
very reason arouse great interest.
During a lull in the discussion, the voice of the
grandfather is heard: "What about heroism? It too has its merit. It is a
merit which we must take into consideration if we are going to be fair. We are
talking about merits, aren't we? As you all know, I was a soldier. I could feel
the wonder of the wind that lifted our enthusiasm in the hours of combat. We
fought hard so that the normal life of labor, prayer, study, and rest might
continue: the shepherds leading their sheep to pasture, the teachers
instructing their pupils, the wives preparing their homes for their husbands
returning from work, and the churches raising prayers for the glory of God in
the highest of heavens and for peace on earth to men of good will. We fought so
that the principles of justice and charity, upon which the whole Christian
order is based, would not be violated by an aggressor and enemy. Our souls
became enlarged proportionately to the ideal for which we were fighting. Our
temper became stronger than steel, and our courage greater than the wild boar
or the voracious wolf. We would go forth happily to fight, to wound, and to
kill, knowing that we might be wounded and even die. The ideal was everything.
Oh, how wonderful was that ideal, how beautiful the
fight in its sacred grandeur."
The old man was standing up now. His deep voice could
be heard in the silence of the room. No one imagined that such a frail figure
could monopolize the attention of the participants in the room as he did. Then,
the old man, becoming tired, sat down. His last words: "I propose that
you go beyond the teacher and the shepherdess, and also consider if there is a
place for the name of our hunter of wild beasts. Couldn't there be a place of
honor for someone who is a hero?"
There was emotion and a certain
uneasiness among the listeners. They recalled that some days ago the parish
priest made a sermon in which he spoke about these words of Our Lord:
"Greater love has no man than he lay down his life for his friend."
* * *
The debate continued, and the parties were still
divided. But now everyone was either for or against the heroic guardian. Those
who were against him no longer cared whether the shepherdess or the teacher won
first place. All that they wanted now was to keep the guardian from getting the
place of honor. But there were others who were convinced that it was
indispensable to honor the hero.
As was usual in that small town, when the time arrived
to make the important decision, the businessman took the floor. Everyone turned
toward him, and, little by little, that ever-changing voice began to be heard.
He touched everyone's heart when he enthusiastically praised the mission of the
shepherdess. They were all convinced when he spoke about the importance of
culture. And at last, as if pronouncing the final verdict, addressing himself
to the old man, he said he respected him, but the days of fighting were gone.
The world would one day proceed — and indeed had already begun — to fuse all
religions, all races, and all peoples. Intelligent men could have nothing but
horror for the spilling of blood. The fact that someone, upon being hired, had
accepted the mission of killing wild animals, was a
sad necessity, but to place fighting and the pretense of heroism on the same
level with culture and economic production was an anachronism. The businessman
concluded by proposing the removal of the name of the slayer from the list, but
at the same time asked all to show their esteem for the old man by giving him a
hand.
Everyone clapped his hands. Only a few appeared
unhappy.
It was late, and they decided to leave.
The next morning no one saw the hunter at the square.
They didn't see him any time after that either. He had decided to move to other
lands, far away, to become rich doing something less dangerous. And the small
town forgot about the incident.
Next year the number of wild boars and voracious
wolves increased a little. The year after that, their number increased still
more. In the third year, the plantations, decreased. Some children had been
made orphans and some families had become poor.
The retired businessman complained: "How can one live in such a place?" And he moved away.
As for the small town, it continued to decay and to
die…
* * *
What should this story be called? What title should be
given to this article?
"Peace, Culture, and Heroism"? Or maybe, "Ungratefulness and Punishment"? I don't
know. Maybe we could call it, "The Crime of the Villianous
Demagogue." Another idea, "THE HAWKS AND THE DOVES"; perhaps
this would be the best.
The reader may choose for himself.
(*)
Reproduced of “Folha de S. Paulo”,