I said a few words yesterday about this book; insufficient, though. I emphasized my respect for the author, but I forgot the protagonist. I redeem myself on this note: Dom Pedro II is the greatest example of honor and prudence in the history of Brazil. He ruled for more than half a century, always being an icon of tolerance and detachment from power; Brazil was able, thanks to his temperament, to make an exchange of regime peacefully — how many countries can say the same? — and in return, he was expelled from the country as a thief, condemned to exile and sorrow, spending his last days in a bleak solitude. When he died, lonely, having a sachet with sand from Copacabana in his pocket, the military, led by abject Floriano Peixoto, denied him even a diplomatic representation at the funeral, which was monumental, but paid by France, gratefully, between other things, for being Dom Pedro II the first statesman to visit the country after devastated by the Franco-Prussian War. The poignant of the whole story is that the “grandson of Marcus Aurelius”, as Victor Hugo referred to him, resigned stoically in being the target of cruel injustice, believing the story would reward him. Today, we well know, the memory of Dom Pedro II is non-existent; our students learn only half a note about his life and his character. And there is one of the beautiful ironies of history, very well represented by the fire of the Museu Nacional: being the museum, the character; and the fire, the reward.
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