An Interview with Juan E. Pivel Devoto^*

[Editorial Note. The following interview features a scholar whom probably many of our readers will have difficulty identifying. Though essentially self-taught, Juan E. Pivel Devoto is nevertheless a key figure—the key figure—in the development of a modern historical discipline in Uruguay. He first set out to establish the case for a separate Uruguayan national identity on the basis of documentary evidence, as distinct from patriotic rhetoric. In his subsequent history of Uruguayan political parties (to which he points in the interview as the work that has given him the most satisfaction), he demonstrated that the history of the national period could be written on a serious, objective level rather than in partisan polemics. Later still, in his Raíces coloniales de la Revolución Oriental de 1811 (though he does not emphasize the work), he pointed the way to economic and social analysis of his country’s past.

Apart from writing history and playing a role in publishing historical documents and the works of others, Pivel Devoto compiled a remarkable record in museum management, a field in which he was, again, largely self-taught. And, as in the case of so many other Latin American intellectuals, these accomplishments were joined to an active political career. Pivel Devoto’s identification with the Nacional or Blanco party, and with that party’s long-time leader, Luis Alberto de Herrera, complicated matters for him in some respects, as Herrera’s concept of Uruguayan nationalism made him a neutralist in World War II, and there were those who sought to tar him with allegations of nazi-fascism; this, in turn, hurt the image of Pivel Devoto, and was one reason why the national university did not open its doors to him. Nevertheless, toward the end of his career, and especially from the 1970s, he came to play a prominent and widely respected political role, first as an outspoken critic of Uruguay’s lapse into military dictatorship and then as an educational administrator in the restored democratic regime of Julio María Sanguinetti, a political foe but personal friend.

Though Pivel Devoto comments in the interview on his lack of “disciples,” two students of his, José Pedro Barrán and Benjamín Nahum, were honored in 1987 by the American Historical Association with the Clarence H. Haring prize for the outstanding work of history produced by a Latin American scholar during the previous five-year period. What Pivel Devoto may have lacked in quantity of “disciples,” he clearly made up for in quality. He has also been more than helpful to a succession of foreign historians studying Uruguay (one of the latter is Milton I. Vanger, some of whose comments informally offered over the telephone have been shamelessly plagiarized in this note).]

This series of interviews with renowned historians has not included, until the present moment, anyone from the Río de la Plata. It is therefore desirable to remedy this situation by presenting here the main portions of some conversations with the Uruguayan historian Juan Ernesto Pivel Devoto, who was already considered the foremost authority on Platine diplomatic history in 1942, when he was introduced as such to the Sociedad Argentina de Historiadores by the distinguished Argentine historian Abel Cháneton. This high praise is still applicable today. Pivel Devoto is recognized as a precursor, and there is unanimous agreement that his uninterrupted research, publications, and teaching have made him the principal historian of Uruguay. In addition, he has profound knowledge of the Río de la Plata, and, by extension, of American and European history.

The long career of Pivel Devoto is ample proof of how influential the written word is in the intellectual history of a society. This impact is reflected by the wide dissemination of his articles, books, lectures, and notes, despite the fact that they frequently represent an unorthodox position.

The major part of Pivel Devoto’s teaching career took place in the Instituto del Profesorado Artigas, Montevideo, and in secondary schools, though he also taught informally during three decades as director of the Museo Histórico Nacional, generously assisting Uruguayan and foreign researchers to whom he made available the rich repositories of that institution and of the documents of the Archivo General de la Nación. While it is difficult to deal with Pivel Devoto because of his somewhat gruff personality, he is also a man of passion, possessing a rich vocabulary and expressing his ideas without rhetorical superficialities. His intellectual ability and incredible capacity for work are thoroughly concealed by a slight and fragile physique, invariably clothed in black. From an early age, he broke with the rigid academic procedures that characterized the Universidad de la República, attracting dissatisfied students to this heterodoxy, while inevitably alienating many of his colleagues, who treated him with disdain and coolness. In any case, the controversial and intense personality of Pivel Devoto never caused any doubts as to his probity as a historian, his masterful teaching of several generations of students, and, above all, his dauntless and unsurpassed work of rescuing the historical patrimony—documentary and artistic—of Uruguay.

This interview is a synthesis of numerous conversations that I had with Professor Pivel Devoto since 1955. The meetings occurred on a weekly basis in 1958, when he traveled to Buenos Aires and La Plata to teach a course on nineteenth- and twentieth-century Uruguayan history, which I frequently attended. Our conversations were subsequently interrupted by my extended residence in Europe and the United States, and then resumed, on a daily basis, in January 1986. The final interviews took place in Montevideo between September 24 and 28, 1987. It is appropriate here to indicate that Pivel Devoto never grants “interviews,” thereby making his openness to these discussions all the more appreciated.

Alicia Vidaurreta: Professor Pivel Devoto, would you start by discussing your childhood and early studies?

Juan E. Pivel Devoto: I was born in Paysandú, on the bank of the Uruguay River, on March 22, 1910, to middle-class parents of French Basque and Italian descent. I was the fifth son of that prolific union that resulted in a family of 12 children. My childhood world was naturally that of a provincial boy, accustomed to a simple lifestyle and rigid moral ethic. The only contact that I had with the outside world consisted of occasional visits to the neighboring town of Concordia [Argentina], where my grand-mother lived. This traveling gave me an opportunity to interest myself in the history of Entre Ríos, with which I became thoroughly familiar. My avidity or even voraciousness for reading was already evident, despite the geographical and intellectual isolation, as a student at the Colegio de la Orden de los Religiosos Salesianos, and is insatiable to this day. Then I was a youthful reader of Rubén Darío and the literary school of modernists that he founded, and of various publications that my father received from France during the First World War, while at the same time showing a precocious tendency toward melomania—another enduring trait inherited from my mother. Keep in mind the numerous difficulties present in a provincial town, for the intellectual development of a curious and restless boy, in comparison to the advantages offered by Montevideo, with its proximity to Buenos Aires and a port open to European culture.

AV: What was your first contact with the historiographical literature?

JEPD: When I was 15 years old, I began reading the Ensayo de historia patria, by Hermano Damasceno [Montevideo, 1913], which was then the only manual of Uruguayan history. Other classics followed: Tabaré and La leyenda patria, by Juan Zorrilla de San Martín, who combined a fine literary style with the simple and truthful exposition of historical events.6 Today these works are forgotten.

AV: When and how did you start to write?

JEPD: About 1918 I could no longer contain myself and desperately needed to write. The beginnings, of course, were obscure. A group of us students founded El Uruguay, a newspaper that lasted for a short time and was printed on donated paper. In reality, it was a small-town newspaper that printed trivialities and local items. I remember having published in its pages an article on Leandro Gómez and the heroic defense of Paysandú in 1865. To be truthful, I recognized that I was wasting my time and engrossed myself fully in reading, though not in a methodical way. I read my father’s entire library; my mother presented me with La epopeya de Artigas by Juan Zorrilla de San Martín; and I invested my meager schoolboy’s savings in acquiring the works of Mitre, Sarmiento, unknown travelers to the Río de la Plata, and obscure pamphlets that people scorned and even gave away. The comparison of texts and contrasting historical interpretations made me comprehend, very quickly, the tendentious distortions of Mitre with respect to Artigas’s personality. The move of my family to Montevideo in 1923 was decisive in my life and studies. I began my secondary schooling in the Instituto Alfredo Vázquez Acevedo.

AV: To what extent did that move facilitate your precocious vocation as a historian?

JEPD: I did not find the atmosphere at the institutes of learning agreeable. I was a rebellious student who transgressed the regulations, for which I was punished various times. Frankly, I was bored with the interminable theoretical classes, full of empty rhetoric, and, finally, I made the decision to attend only the classes that interested me. I passed the examinations as an independent student. But I should confess that, in this period of agitated political life, when the system of representative government by popular elections was being consolidated, I was more interested in the party conventions and in following closely the polemical publications of the flowering contemporary press than in attending classes. I also opted in that period to concentrate on my historical studies: I read in their entirety and without respite the library of the Instituto Alfredo Vázquez Acevedo; the then-rich Biblioteca Nacional and its very complete periodical collection; the libraries belonging to the Ateneo, Círculo Católico, and Museo Histórico; and several private collections that were generously placed at my disposal. The historical scholar left behind the undisciplined student. I was convinced that I did not have the vocation for an academic career, where it is fair to point out that dilettantes of history abounded. Since there was no alternative at that time other than to study law and easily obtain a lawyer’s degree, I chose anonymity and went ahead with my vocation despite the multiple difficulties that I knew I would encounter in a tranquil society like that of Montevideo. The majority of the men of my generation had studied law, but they abhorred their not-always-lucrative profession as practiced in a small city like Montevideo. They ended up holding the most unlikely government jobs. Along these lines, I invoke the advice that I received from Dr. Julio Lerena Joanicó, a man of profound sensibility and humanistic culture: “You will become what you wish to be, if you follow your calling and discipline your conduct.” His words turned out to be prophetic.

AV: I understand that you interrupted your university studies. What were the reasons?

JEPD: In effect, I registered as a student, but I abandoned, shortly thereafter, the required courses that did not interest me in the least. As in the secondary school, in a rebellious attitude, I attended only those that attracted me. Instead, I devised a systematic plan of readings of sources that did not appear in the curricular programs. My initial guide was the prologue in which Francisco Bauzá [Historia de la dominación española en el Uruguay, 1895] formulated his critique of the classical sources that he used to write his work. At the same time, in 1926, I initiated my research in the then-chaotic Archivo General de la Nación. Those years, until 1930, were decisive in my life: I comprehended perfectly that the direct analysis of primary documentary sources was indispensable in order to clarify the historical profile of Uruguay. Also, during the unfolding of my readings and research, I understood that the historian cannot isolate himself in an ivory tower and that, together with the disciplined study of the profession, he should be a citizen who participates in the political life of the country. This decision, certainly, led me afterward into personal and professional situations that are well known and about which I prefer not to talk.

AV: What other topics attracted you?

JEPD: Fundamentally, at that time, the little-known documentation relating to the military campaign of 1825, a period on which I concentrated my attention, stimulated by the polemic over the date of the centennial of Uruguayan independence that was engaged in, among others, by Pablo Blanco Acevedo, Mario Falcao Espalter, Gustavo Gallinal, and Ariosto González. I was able to locate, with great difficulty, the military archive of 1825-28 in the headquarters of the Estado Mayor del Ejército. I first classified that vast documentation, abandoned and very deteriorated, in order to be able to consult and copy it without difficulties. Using those materials, I published the Archivo de la Cruzada Libertadora (1825-1828), initiated in two volumes and continued in the Boletín del Ejército. At the same time, I was going to the archives of the cathedral of Montevideo and of other churches, which gave me a deeper knowledge of the heterogeneous formation of Uruguayan society. Happily, those valuable archives have been saved today by means of the microfilming undertaken by the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints and the Utah Genealogical Society.

AV: Which historians exercised influence in your formation?

JEPD: Dr. Julio Lerena Joanicó was my unforgettable guide: he opened many doors for me and gave me direct contact, despite my youth, with his colleagues Pablo Blanco Acevedo, Felipe Ferreiro, Mario Falcao Espalter, and Gustavo Gallinal. And in 1929, I met Luis Alberto de Herrera, with whom I came to form an intimate friendship until his death in 1958.

AV: May I ask you, without being indiscreet, how did you make your living at that stage?

JEPD: I performed various jobs and functions, among them, that of proofreader. I also had an honorary position in the Archivo del Estado Mayor del Ejército, where a fine gentleman, don Santiago Abella, obtained authorization from President Juan Campisteguy for me to be appointed to that military unit as a civilian. Shortly afterward, I was presented to President Campisteguy: a man who was the embodiment of austerity and simplicity.

AV: How were you initiated into teaching?

JEPD: I still ask myself that question. At 18 years of age, without an academic diploma and with my first historical investigations and initial publications as my only recommendation, I was named professor of history and government at the Instituto Magisterial Gabriela Mistral. This first teaching experience was a very important stage in my formation, since, from that modest position, I was able to expose my students to the results of my readings and research and to my criticism of an antiquated historiography. One year later, in 1931, I was offered work in the Instituto Histórico y Geográfico del Uruguay (the equivalent of the academies of history of other countries) in the capacity of prosecretario; and I joined the Archivo General de la Nación in order to classify the rich collection strangely known as the Fondo ex-Archivo y Museo Histórico Nacional, possibly because it was moved from that institution to the Archivo in 1926.

AV: Did such varied and absorbing activities leave you time to order and systematize the fruits of your research?

JEPD: In effect, it was a period of absorbing and arduous work that was increased by my joining the Comisión de Límites; by the publication of the Revista del Instituto Histórico y Geográfico del Uruguay, of which I was managing editor; and by my work on the Boletín del Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores. But I did not neglect the methodical organization and analysis of the knowledge I was acquiring, the better to transmit it through my classes and future publications with coherence, reflection, and critical sense.

AV: I am impressed by the fact that at such an early age you initiated your studies of diplomatic history and of the international relations of Uruguay. What led to this interest?

JEPD: The disciplined reading of classical and modern works, of periodical publications and pamphlets, as well as the original documentation, convinced me that it was indispensable to clarify and make known that important aspect of Uruguayan history. It should be borne in mind that Argentina, Brazil, France, and Great Britain exercised influence and power throughout the history of Uruguay. This is the origin of my studies, “La misión de Nicolás de Herrera a Rio de Janeiro” and “La misión de Francisco Joaquín Muñoz a Bolivia,” both published in the Revista del Instituto Histórico y Geográfico del Uruguay in 1932 and 1933. They were my initiation in diplomatic history, and they opened the way for me to be commissioned to do research in the archives of Rio de Janeiro in 1934.

AV: You were one of the first foreigners who did research in those archives. Was it a profitable experience?

JEPD: Profitable, delightful, and fundamental. I arrived in Rio de Janeiro at an exceptional political moment, when the government of Getúlio Vargas (it should be remembered that he was a gaúcho from Rio Pardo) had opened the archives to a select group of the until-then-isolated historians of Rio Grande do Sul. The centennial of the Revolución de los Farrapos was being commemorated in 1935. Aurelio Porto, Emilio Fernandes Souza Docca, Augusto Tasso Fragoso, Rego Monteiro, Jonatas da Costa, unforgettable colleagues and comrades, were my working companions in the Arquivo Histórico de Itamarati. I had, likewise, an excellent relationship with Rodolfo Garcia, director of the Biblioteca Nacional, who was preparing the new edition of the annotated Historia geral do Brasil by the viscount of Porto Seguro. At the same time, I attended an interesting series of lectures at the Instituto Histórico e Geográfico Brasileiro. These coincided with the publication of the Anais do Itamarati, an invaluable compilation of documents, while I continued, in that period of which I preserve such pleasant memories, to multiply my own research efforts in the Arquivo Nacional and in the rare manuscript collection of the Biblioteca Nacional, directed at that time by Dr. Alzides Bezerra. This research gave me an excellent knowledge of the history of Brazil, and, above all, of Luso-Brazilian politics in the Río de la Plata. Moreover, I was a witness to the political transformation that was occurring in Brazil with Vargas in power.

AV: How did you resume your activities in Montevideo?

JEPD: In 1936, I began to serve as adjunct professor to Dr. Felipe Ferreiro, who occupied the chair of history of America. I was also named professor of the preparatory courses in law at the Universidad de Mujeres. One year before, shortly after my return from Rio de Janeiro, I was designated secretary and miembro de número of the Instituto Histórico y Geográfico del Uruguay, which automatically meant that I was a corresponding member, at 25 years of age, of all of the Latin American academies and of the Real Academia de la Historia de España. But I want to make it clear that I have not frequented the Instituto for decades. It was very prestigious at one time but today, lamentably, brings together mere amateurs of history. I am not a man who belongs to clubs or wastes time in sterile or foolish conversations. Returning to my teaching activities, I competed for, and obtained, the position of professor of national history in the Escuela Militar. At that time, I had already distanced myself from the Archivo General de la Nación because of disagreements with the director over internal affairs of an administrative nature.

AV: What is your impression of the prolific decade of 1930-40 in the culture of Uruguay?

JEPD: I followed, with great interest, the national problems that inspired the passion of public opinion: like labor and social reforms, electoral legislation and the development of public education—all subjects that, like others, were debated in the press, parliament, and in the conventions of the political parties. I also continued my historical work and published, with Father Guillermo Furlong Cárdiff a study on the origins of printing in Uruguay. The longstanding boundary problems with Argentina and Brazil continued to attract my attention, as did the electoral system, the Colegiado, and co-participation in the exercise of executive power, among many other topics, that I shall not mention so that I do not overwhelm you.. . . In 1937, I joined the Instituto de Estudios Superiores, a cultural organization that was not supported by official funds, which meant an effort that resulted only in some intellectual satisfaction. I taught a course on the foreign policy of Uruguay, and then went on to the Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores to organize its chaotic and devastated archives.

AV: I must say that it is difficult to understand how one person could effectively undertake such diverse and demanding tasks. You seem to have been a forerunner of the multiple jobholder in the Río de la Plata.

JEPD: I still do not understand how I was able to fulfill so many obligations at the same time. I slept scarcely four hours daily. This became a habit over the years. I also taught a course on the Guerra Grande in 1936 and another, in 1939, on the history of political parties in Uruguay, both at the already mentioned Instituto de Estudios Superiores. I found the last topic increasingly interesting, and I did research on it, despite the objections of timid people who felt it better to avoid analysis of that veritable labyrinth which is the history of Uruguay in the nineteenth century. At that time, I had already studied and analyzed all the materials available in official and private archives and libraries, besides what I acquired for my own library. I was particularly interested in the obscure pamphlets and other printed matter that were undervalued by everyone. My physical health was tested by my many activities at the Universidad de Mujeres, the Instituto Vázquez Acevedo, the Liceo Francés, the Escuela Militar, and by my new position as advisor in the Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, which in 1938 was headed by Dr. Alberto Guani. Today, in my old age, I pay the chronic and painful consequences. After all, my salary was very meager and most of the positions I held were honorary. Young people no longer want the kinds of nonremunerative jobs that affected my weak constitution.

AV: Did your political militancy and your close friendship with Dr. Luis Alberto de Herrera open doors for your political career?

JEPD: In truth, I never gave up political activism in the Partido Nacional, though my family and my own father were linked to the Partido Colorado. Herrera was very generous in his praise of my political activities; he always backed me, but he advised me, which I now view as very wise, not to interrupt my career as a historian by occupying public offices that would interfere with it and divert me from my true vocation. I rejected the possibility of a candidacy for the office of national deputy and chose to be a mere historian, convinced that the best way in which to serve my country was by making its tortuous history better known, on the basis of documents.

AV: How were you able to attain this objective?

JEPD: By way of a suggestion from Dr. Herrera, and with the support of figures from other parties, like Drs. Buenaventura and Juan Caviglia, President Alfredo Baldomir appointed me director of the Museo Histórico Nacional in April of 1940, a position which became vacant on the death of Daniel Martínez Vigil. I rejected flattering and lucrative offers for diplomatic posts, and preferred to accept that position, considerably more modest, but which made it possible to realize the dream of establishing a great bibliographical and documentary repository. Of course, at a time when a purely partisan historical perspective was predominant, it was necessary to overcome many difficulties and to attend, obligatorily, the events that alternately paid homage to Leandro Gómez, Fructuoso Rivera, Venancio Flores, Bernardo P. Berro, Julio Herrera y Obes, Washington Beltrán, and those shot in 1858. It was ridiculous that, for purely political reasons, so much respect was shown for personages who represented a remote period, apparently now left behind. Those commemorations were steeped in exalted and polemical tones that only confused the Uruguayans’ understanding of their own history.

AV: Of all your works, which is the one that gave you the most satisfaction?

JEPD: Dr. Mateo J. Magariños de Mello, whom I knew in Rio de Janeiro, a friend for more than half a century, had typed the notes from my course on the history of political parties in Uruguay that had been taken by Dr. Alcira Ranieri, whom I later married. That union, as far as family is concerned, produced two children, and, referring to its intellectual offspring, I added the documentation in my possession to those notes, and began to give definite shape to the two volumes of Historia de los partidos políticos en el Uruguay. I wrote them in exhausting shifts at night, since the days were totally occupied with teaching and the administration of the museum, which involved endless and confusing bureaucratic procedures. I wrote the work during the summer nights of 1941, at my office in the museum, helped by the silence. The Universidad de la República had just announced a contest for historical works, with the principal prize named after Pablo Blanco Acevedo. With great haste, and helped by my friends, the necessary copies of the two volumes were typed. “Rojo y Blanco” was the pseudonym that I chose, but it was not difficult to surmise who the author was. Lauro Ayestarán, the great historian of music, was entrusted with presenting the work in compliance with the regulations. I had the satisfaction of being chosen, unanimously, for the coveted prize on November 6, 1941, by a panel made up of Rafael Schiaffino, Eduardo Acevedo, Felipe Ferreiro, Ariosto González, and the rector of the university, José Pedro Varela. It should be remembered that I was not a university graduate. The work was published in 1942 and 1943. For many reasons, and, above all, because of the effort that it represented for me, it is the book that I cherish the most. It has become a classic of Uruguayan historiography, and, since it is out of print—unscrupulous hands stole a huge number of copies from the university’s depository—a second edition has been proposed.

AV: Raíces coloniales de la Revolución Oriental de 1811, published in 1952and reissued in 1956, is also a classic work. Did it not give you satisfaction as well?

JEPD: Certainly, even though the subject is different and I wrote it less hurriedly. My purpose was to bring out the original causes of the movement for independence, by showing the economic, geographical, and military factors which anticipated during the colonial period what later would take on overt characteristics: the rivalry between Spain and Portugal; the economic significance of the open port of Montevideo and the disputes with Buenos Aires over the attraction of European commerce; the natural boundaries traced by the great rivers; and the unifying power of Artigas.

AV: Transformed into a museum curator, which was your initial task?

JEPD: I worked as director of the Museo Histórico Nacional, as I have indicated, from 1940 to March 22, 1982, when I was pensioned off because I had turned 70 years of age. In reality, this unjust measure was due to my active participation against the military regime that governed Uruguay at that time; to my attending all of the events that publicized human-rights violations (my son was imprisoned then); and as an element of personal revenge on the part of the president of that deplorable government, General Gregorio Álvarez, a less-than-mediocre student of mine at the Escuela Militar. But returning to your question and leaving aside that distressing episode, I should mention that, in the first place, I was able to relocate the museum from the old site, on Calle Colonia at the corner of Minas, to the house that belonged to General Fructuoso Rivera, a large and noble building in the so-called Ciudad Vieja. The new Museo Histórico Nacional that opened its doors in 1943 had nothing to do with the heterogeneous collection that it had received. This does not mean that the old museum did not contain some very valuable items, but in 1940 it was the perfect expression of a country without a professional museum tradition: a disorderly depository of material that was deteriorating and whose classification had not even been attempted.

With respect to the documentary collection of the old museum, formed between 1901 and 1927 by the efforts of the directors Luis Carve and Telmo Manacorda through private donations, that collection was moved —as I have mentioned—to the Archivo General de la Nación, where I organized and cataloged it. Under the rather innocuous title of Fondo ex-Archivo y Museo Histórico Nacional, 375 volumes of documents and 99 volumes of pamphlets were organized, to which 346 private archives were added afterwards, besides the documentation of an administrative character originating in the cabildos, the custom house of Montevideo, and other public institutions.

Since that valuable store of documents had already been separated from the museum, I had to organize what would be kept in the institution from then on. The initial nucleus of the museum was made up of the manuscript collection and Americanist library of Pablo Blanco Acevedo, which, after his death in 1935, was donated by his wife, Rosina Pérez Butler. It consisted of 146 volumes of correspondence, most of it private, and 700 hojas sueltas, maps, contemporary engravings, and a numismatical collection. To make the materials available to researchers, they were moved to the Casa de Lavalleja, the first branch site of the museum, which I converted during my tenure into a museum complex, consisting of seven separate historic buildings. In time, the Colección Pablo Blanco Acevedo, installed in such a quiet place, was augmented by 1,099 volumes that contain 67,373 documents, printed materials, and national and foreign bibliographies, besides an excellent Americanist library that was placed in the Museo Romántico, situated in the vicinity of the other holdings. It was physically impossible to place all of the acquisitions and donations in a single location, which explains this organized dispersion.

AV: Can you define the criteria that you followed for the recovery of such vast documentary holdings?

JEPD: The very broadest. My persistent and, not infrequently, obstinate efforts at recovering the national historical patrimony were, I must admit, rewarded by the generosity of many families, which donated books, engravings, invaluable cartographic pieces, manuscripts, musical scores, newspapers, and other objects. In general, it can be said that they were donated as a token of friendship or appreciation, or as recognition for some bibliographic or historical consultation. But it is also necessary to point out that the incorporation of some collections of documents demanded great efforts to secure funding, because their acquisition was costly. I was always guided, in sum, when requesting donations and acquiring materials, by the belief that the country’s history was not to be written solely on the basis of information from manuscripts that reflect (not always objectively) the activities and ideas of diplomats, military men, or politicians; rather, it was necessary to complement that information and illustrate the important economic, intellectual, political, and social contexts of a nation’s history with other sources of data. This patriotic enterprise of rescuing the largest number of documents possible for the country was complemented by the costly microfilming of documents relating to Uruguay that resided in the great archives of Argentina, Brazil, France, Great Britain, Italy, Portugal, and Spain, many of which were published in the Archivo Artigas and Revista Histórica.

AV: You have mentioned this last publication, which had such a long and fruitful run, now interrupted, that was the object of your special attention and care. How did you view its publication?

JEPD: It had been first interrupted in 1926. Publication was resumed in 1942, and, as you know, it ceased in 1982, when I was removed from the directorship of the Museo Histórico Nacional. Forty-four volumes were published. Within broad guidelines, works by proven national and foreign historians were accepted by the journal. It offered as much information as possible, so that everyone’s research would benefit; it published documents on the most varied subjects; and it reproduced unknown bibliographical items and travelers’ accounts. It was not patriotera, as some have tried unsuccessfully to classify it, but the product of scientific endeavor, made possible by the sacrifice of those who labored in silence. In genuine intellectual creativity, one’s calling and determination can make great miracles happen, except that of coining the money for publication costs.

AV: Did you perform other duties at that time?

JEPD: I never abandoned my position as professor at the Instituto del Profesorado Artigas, nor the directorship of the museum, when I went on to perform new and absorbing duties, including membership in the Concejo Departamental de Montevideo [1955-59], the presidency of SODRE [Servicio de Difusión Radioléctrica, 1959-63], and minister of Instrucción Pública y Previsión Social, to which I was appointed in 1963. I then delegated the direction of the museum to Professor María Julia Ardao, but I never abandoned the professorship at any time. This was a decision that many people did not understand; perhaps it was due to my vocación sarmientina. The position of minister obliged me to do nothing less than to consider and resolve such unrelated problems as those of education, the prisons and reformatories, the gambling casinos, and the welfare system of Uruguay. In truth, I still cannot explain how I was able to attend to this vast conglomeration of duties. During the same period, I acted, on an interim basis, as minister of foreign relations and minister of industry and labor. I believe that this was the most intense period of my life. I had previously been an official delegate of Uruguay to UNESCO [1960 and 1964], and to the Ecumenical Council that met in Rome in 1960. Later on, I was an official delegate at the transfer of the presidential mandate in Peru in 1963, and I represented Uruguay in the meetings of the Organization of American States that were held in Bogotá in 1963 and in Buenos Aires in 1966. It was destiny that caused me to find myself next to Dr. Arturo U. Illia, the Argentine president, during his last public act, a few hours before his overthrow by a nefarious military coup, one that would open a dark and painful period in the contemporary history of Argentina. Once that period ended, I had the privilege of witnessing the return of democracy to Argentina, as a member of the Uruguayan delegation that accompanied my old friend, President Dr. Julio María Sanguinetti (I was a professor of his wife), when I attended the inauguration as president of Dr. Raúl Alfonsín. Recently, I also traveled with President Sanguinetti to Brazil and participated in the signing of the protocols on Brazilian-Uruguayan integration. My already long life, as you can appreciate, has given me the opportunity to witness profound historical and political changes, and to be acquainted with many political figures.

AV: What were the principal accomplishments, in your judgment, during your ministry?

JEPD: It was essential to repair and construct school buildings, and to restore and preserve the nation’s architectural and artistic patrimony, something I had already been working for in 1940, before the program of UNESCO was initiated. The objective was to restore the old buildings of Montevideo to their original appearance. I also presided over the commission that coordinated the bicentennial of Artigas, whose archives and related correspondence had begun to be published by the Comisión Nacional Archivo Artigas in 1950. With the same purpose of preserving our national patrimony, I arranged an inventory of the collection belonging to the Museo de Bellas Artes and the publication of its catalog, at the same time that an inventory of the existing artistic works in the interior of the country was carried out. I also adopted measures to hasten preparation of the new seat of the Biblioteca Nacional.

AV: Such work must have taken away time, certainly, from your activities as a historian and professor. Were you able to reconcile all these activities?

JEPD: I never discontinued my courses, until my forced retirement. The administrative duties obligated me, certainly, to delegate the direction of the museum to Professor Ardao, and forced me to limit my publications, which, in that period, were focused on the Archivo Artigas [20 vols., 1951-81] and the Colección de clásicos uruguayos, sponsored by the Ministerio de Instrucción Pública. I had 60 volumes of the latter published, at very reasonable prices. At present, I continue to direct both publications: volumes 21 and 22 of the Archivo Artigas, whose prologues I have written, are being published with great financial difficulties. We have been able to publish 170 titles in the Colección de clásicos uruguayos, which are reprints of literary texts, social and political histories, and other works, with explanatory prefaces written by specialists.

AV: If you will permit me, I would like to return to the subject of teaching. An intense and prolonged career like yours, joined to your reputation as a historian, implies the formation of disciples and influence as an advisor to foreign researchers arriving in Uruguay. Can you mention some names?

JEPD: I had a veritable legion of students. My classes were always very well attended. I do not know the reasons, but I think that perhaps I made them lively, because I made the documents “talk,” without rhetoric or euphemisms. I brought in illustrations and curious texts, and by that natural method I got my students to not reject history, like a fossilized reality, as something purely for memorization. I tried to have them identify with history, using the most varied pedagogical resources, so that they would assimilate it as something vivid and tangible.

I did not have many “disciples,” in the usual sense of the word: José Pedro Barrán, Benjamín Nahum, and Elisa Silva Cazet worked closely with me. Perhaps others were discouraged because of the rigidity of my personality and my system. Or, I simply did not know how to attract them. One must be able to acknowledge human weaknesses. I had, on the other hand, a faithful and select group of collaborators at the museum, who gave me an unforgettable sign of solidarity, when, owing to my forced retirement, they resigned also.

Among the foreign researchers that came to me, I remember Madaline W. Nichols and John Street, the Britisher, who wrote two excellent works on Uruguayan history. Street was an authentic pioneer who, in the English language, made known the federalist thought of Artigas. Afterwards, Milton Vanger, the best historian of the first presidency of José Batlle y Ordóñez, arrived at my office; and I keep an indelible memory of his wedding ceremony, celebrated in Montevideo. I also remember Joseph Criscenti, whom I alerted to the existence of an archive from which he published documentation in the HAHR. But I want to emphasize that, apart from these friendships, to which I was drawn by a common interest in historiography, I have cultivated those of many writers, of politicians of different ideologies, of progressive feminists, of communist women, and even of anarchist workers. In this sense, I was always very receptive and open to the ideas of others.

AV: Besides everything that you have said, I would appreciate your mentioning something very special that you encountered as a professor, whether it was a personality or a very gratifying experience.

JEPD: I recall the year 1959 with gratitude, as very happy and fruitful for me, when, for the only time, I occupied a university position outside of Uruguay—as a visiting professor at the Universidad Nacional de La Plata, during the rectorship of Dr. Enrique M. Barba. He was a lifelong friend, as was [the Argentine historian] Ricardo R. Caillet-Bois, to whom I was joined by a fraternal relation from 1933 until his death. I traveled from Montevideo every week, to present a course on the history of Uruguay in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, holding the classes on Fridays and Saturdays, so that my work at the museum, SODRE, and my courses at the Instituto Artigas would not be affected. It was very gratifying, personally and intellectually, and a distinguished group of Argentine professionals attended.

AV: There is another aspect of your intellectual interests that I would like you to talk about: your vocation as bibliophile and collector. Your personal library is considered, at present, the most extensive in the Río de la Plata. When did you begin the collection, and what does it consist of?

JEPD: I started it with my meager savings as a student and with the help of my mother. Books, printed materials, pamphlets were acquired in the most diverse places: at street fairs and auctions, from peddlers, and from individuals who gave up materials that did not interest them. Today, the library has taken over all of this simple house. It is classified in the following manner: history of Uruguay and of the Americas (with 650 folders that include annotations and copies of documents from the archives that I have frequented); newspaper articles on historical topics (160 folders); a rare collection of original manuscripts related to the history of Uruguay (250 folders and 24 volumes); and my collection, more extensive every day, of art books in different languages. The library is made up of 20,000 books on topics as diverse as world, Latin American, and Uruguayan history, and on literature, art, law, philosophy, and religion. The collection also includes practically all of the travelers’ accounts printed in the nineteenth century, and 10,000 pamphlets on political history. This library was assembled over a period of 68 years of sacrifices shared by my family, and it is the only legacy that I leave my children. It is my desire that the library stay in Uruguay and that it not be scattered, as has occurred with other private libraries.

AV: Finally, we should return to the subject of your political career. It is curious that, being so prominent, you occupied relatively few political offices.

JEPD: As I have indicated, I was politically active from my adolescence. I came to political action through the slow and arduous clearing away of the complexities of Uruguayan history. I was interested, above all, in what concerned education, the sciences, international relations, the topic of sovereignty and national independence. And, in particular, I was concerned with the perfection of representative republican government and the protection of the rights and liberties of citizens. Concerning my un-interrupted militancy in the Partido Nacional, I wish to emphasize that, in the period 1936-51, I worked arduously in favor of a governmental formula that would make possible the coexistence and co-participation of the political parties. This was the only method, in my opinion, that would permit the consolidation of democracy and maintenance of human rights, and would preserve this small country, with a great democratic tradition, from the totalitarian influences of left and right that darkened the world. For this reason, I was a determined partisan of the [constitutional] reform of 1951 which introduced the colegiado system. While it was in effect, until 1967, I constantly preached the advantages and democratic character of the collegiate type of government, which implies the joint participation of different ideologies. I did this as a political activist and as a teacher, in government positions, and in the press. I was elected a member of the directorate of the Partido Nacional in 1970, to which I brought a program of civic principles and action that updated the program then in effect and was approved in 1972. Occupying that position, it was my lot to face the dramatic events that would lead to the military coup of 1973.

AV: This situation, almost unheard of in Uruguay, with the exception of the coup led by Gabriel Terra in 1933, led you into a clandestine activity, according to what I understand. What was your life like in that period?

JEPD: As you have said, I was acting clandestinely, like so many other compatriots. Two of them, Zelmar Michelini and Héctor González Ruiz, were assassinated by the Argentine government known as the Proceso. My son was imprisoned. I have painful memories of that dark period, but I received with great satisfaction the results of the public plebiscite of 1980, when the government’s proposed constitution was rejected. Then I was president of the directorate of the Partido Nacional, in the difficult period of 1983-85, until the constitutional government was installed in office. In March 1985 I accepted President Sanguinetti’s offer of the presidency of the Consejo Nacional de Educación. At 77 years of age, as you can imagine, the continuing struggle against bureaucracy in public education, the lack of financial resources, and many other administrative problems, along with my deteriorating health, compel me to retire, hoping that my work will be continued by others. Everything that has been said seems appropriate for my obituary—on account of which I would appreciate it if we could go on to another topic.

AV: Of course. You contributed frequently to Marcha, perhaps the most important weekly publication of the Río de la Plata in the last few decades. Is it possible to speak of a Marcha generation?

JEPD: I was a contributor to Marcha, in effect, from 1947 to 1973, but it is not possible, by any means, to speak of a Marcha generation. Under the expert guidance of Dr. Carlos Quijano, men of the most diverse ages and ideologies worked on the weekly: men of letters, art critics, politicians, and historians. It is true that Marcha represents a landmark in the intellectual history of Uruguay, but it should be looked on as a unifying factor that permitted men and women of a great intellectual capacity to express themselves, without being confronted by obstacles to their criticisms or ideologies. In this sense, Dr. Quijano’s breadth of vision should be recognized.

AV: Returning to the essential aspects of this interview, could you explain your ideas on the role of history in these young countries?

JEPD: I was convinced, very early, that each country had to search for its national identity in the roots of its history, which are found only in documents. That is why I devoted myself to the rescue of all the documentation that could possibly be used to make understandable the changing history of these countries of anarchic origins. I did it for this reason, not with the mentality of an antiquarian or collector. I am convinced that the only valid way to study history is in the primary sources. Studies based on secondary literature can be charming or soporific, but generally are vehicles for personal or political interpretations of history; they are superficial and do not reveal the least interest in the use of original sources. On the other hand, the opening of the historical profession to new topics—urban history, quantitative data, women’s history, the history of labor movements, among others—opens up many possibilities for using new methodologies and sources; but here it is necessary to be very cautious, because when foreign historians focus on these topics, they generally have a very superficial understanding of the nation’s historic, economic, and social processes, and of their interactions.

AV: Since you admit the benefits of breaking with the traditional historiography, what do you think of combining the methods of different fields or topics in the study of history?

JEPD: I think that it is a positive step. My generation did not have access to refined methodologies, nor to foreign bibliographies or sources, to which there is easy access today. The generous fellowships, and extraordinary advances in today’s technology, accelerate and facilitate research. But there is another side to these advantages: their beneficiaries have, many times, only a skin-deep knowledge of the history that they attempt to reconstruct; computers and word processors are useless when that deficiency exists. At the same time, there is a considerable number of journals where they can publish the results of their research, but there is also brutal competition. I do not refer, naturally, to poor local publications, where insignificant articles, which are no more than fragmentary rudiments, are readily published. In this sense, I am categorical: there exists a lot of useless material that does not come close to being history.

Selected Bibliography of Books and Articles