The Publisher and His Authors
THE SON OF a wealthy Portuguese merchant based in Barra de São João, on the north coast of Rio de Janeiro province, Casimiro de Abreu spent over three years in Portugal with a view to improving his business skills. His father, José Joaquim Marques de Abreu, spared no effort to turn his son into a top-notch trader. However, much to José Joaquim’s chagrin, young Casimiro’s talents lay more in poetry than in commerce. While in Portugal, he published some poems in literary magazines. In January 1856, the company based at the Dom Fernando Theater in Lisbon staged Camões e o Jaú (Camoens and the Javanese), a one-act play by Casimiro de Abreu that was published by the Panorama Press a few months later. On that occasion, the contract between Casimiro and the Portuguese publisher stated the following:
I, the undersigned, hereby declare that I have contracted with Mr. Antonio José Fernandes Lopes, publisher and established proprietor with a book store on Rua Aurea, no. 227 and 228, to reprint my verses, which will be entitled Primaveras [Spring], of the ones that I already have collected and others that I will collect in Rio de Janeiro, where I intend to print the first edition to present to my friends; and the said Mr. Lopes [will] reprint as many editions as he pleases, but on condition that it will be two years from the date of that first edition I intend to publish in Rio; furthermore, he may also include in the reprints that are to be made the poetry written by me that has been published in his literary journals, Panorama, and Ilustração Luso-Brasileira, which have been bought and paid for and belong to him now and in perpetuity, and my original one-act play entitled “Camões e o Jaú” for which I sell the rights to him and for which I have received payment on this date. And because we have signed this contract, I am obliged not to contract with anyone else regarding the reprinting of these works, nor to reprint them on my own, subjecting me to the laws of this and my own country; furthermore, Mr. Lopes is obliged to deliver in Lisbon to me or by my order, one hundred bound copies of the abovementioned Primaveras for each of the reprints he publishes, which copies represent the value of the sale and assignment [of rights] I made to him. Lisbon, July 12, 1856. Casimiro d’Abreu.1
When he arrived in Rio de Janeiro, Casimiro’s baggage contained a published book and another that had been previously contracted with a publisher. Nevertheless, the edition of Primaveras published in Rio de Janeiro by Paula Brito was far from being just a gift for friends, and can be considered a commercial edition, sold by subscription and over the counter in the city’s bookshops. There is strong evidence that Casimiro had cheated the Portuguese publisher, because after the poet’s death, his mother, Luíza Joaquina das Neves, went to court over the matter.2
Upon his return to Rio, at his father’s insistence Casimiro went to work as a clerk at Câmara, Cabral & Costa, which owned tapioca, gum, arrowroot, and grain stores at two addresses in the city.3 However, the clerk insisted on remaining a poet, and before long Casimiro’s verses began appearing in the newspapers and journals of Rio de Janeiro. As early as April 1858, he confirmed to Francisco do Couto Sousa Júnior, an old school friend, that he intended to publish a collection in book form:
– Rio de Janeiro April 1, 1858 –
Dear [friend] –
Could you please, and if it is not too much trouble, send me the issue of the Popular that contained “Virgem loura” [Blonde virgin] because I have lost the manuscript and do not know in which issue of the [Correio] Mercantil it came out.
I want to go on arranging and amending all my foolish blunders, as I am getting ready, in January, on my birthday, to bring to light a volume of poetry and then . . . who knows? You should prepare yourself as well, because I want subscriptions; but we have plenty of time, that business will start in September or October—you know very well that I do not work at full throttle.
Continue holding me in your esteem and believing that I am – Your sincere friend –
Casimiro JM. d’Abreu4
The copious correspondence between the poet and Sousa Júnior, who lived in Porto das Caixas, Rio de Janeiro province, shows that Casimiro moved heaven and earth to see his poetry published in book form. In late April, the poet confessed to his friend that he was starting to cut back on the publication of his verses in the press because, after all, “having to publish [them in] a book, one must not show them all in the newspapers.”5 Soon afterwards, in July, when he heard that Gonçalves Dias had just arrived on the latest British packet steamer to dock in Rio, Casimiro wrote that he intended to ask the celebrated poet for “a critical review—of my book of poetry.” In the same letter, Casimiro revealed that he wanted it to be a small volume so that “all my verses are not included, which I will reserve for another book, since many poems are unfinished or require revision.”6
It was most likely during this period that he engaged the services of Paula Brito to print the book. The publication was originally supposed to be financed through subscriptions. To a point, that method was a sound one, because by relying on a large number of loyal subscribers, he could, for example, print enough books to avoid remaindering a large number of copies. The subscription system also indicates that, wary of the risks, publishers refused to cover the full cost of publishing some titles, even if they were the “songs of a young poet whose heart is beginning to awake . . . like nature’s smiles in spring,” according to the Correio mercantil, in an article reporting that Casimiro was preparing “a posy of his loveliest productions, which will be published under the title of Primaveras. Subscriptions are accepted at the address of the publisher, Mr. Paula Brito.”7 Thrilled by the news he had read the day before, Casimiro once again wrote to his friend Francisco:
Mon cher –
– Yesterday in the miscellaneous news [section] the Mercantil made the grand announcement that subscriptions are available for my poetry—I beg you also to announce, quite simply, that subscriptions are being accepted at the office of the Popular, and in a few days I will send you some lists. By the way, I want to know what you think about including my portrait in the volume: should I do it or not? I think not, and if the poetry of Teixeira de Melo (very close to being published) does not contain one, I will not be so foolish as to put one in mine—I recommend reading the book by Teixeira de Melo that it will be entitled—Sonhos e sombras [Dreams and shadows]—and I think it will be the best thing to come out; I have never seen lovelier poetry.
– Goodbye, I . . . give you a hug and I am, as allways [sic]
Your dear friend,
Casimiro Abreu8
In late July, subscriptions for Primaveras were sold in Rio and the outlying area. Casimiro sent lists to Francisco in Porto das Caixas, entrusting him personally with collecting names at the Military School, the Naval Academy, and the Medical School of Rio de Janeiro—“because I want to be read by the lads.” A certain “Freitinhas” must have sent subscriptions from Queimados and Cantagalo, which Casimiro added up hopefully: “I am firmly convinced that I will cover the printing costs, which is my desire.”9 However, despite the efforts of the poet and his friends, they failed to raise enough money to publish the book. Apparently, Paula Brito would not print a single verse without first seeing the color of the thousands of réis agreed for publishing the work.
The money eventually came from the pockets of the poet’s father.10 However, Mr. Marques de Abreu did not finance the book without setting some pre-conditions, which made Casimiro very unhappy: “He wrote to my masters’ business, saying that if they think this will make me do my work better, they can provide me with the necessary amount.”11 José Joaquim had little interest in his son’s poetic tendencies; what he really wanted was to see Casimiro do well at his job. To be sure, from the perspective of a Portuguese man who made his fortune by trading in lumber, leaving more than 150,000,000 réis in his will,12 Primaveras was nothing but a youthful whim. A whim that, to Casimiro’s despair, was slow to be fulfilled. He wrote to his friend, “No news about my book yet!” And he continued, “Paula Brito says it will be ready in June, but I believe it won’t even [come out] by the end of the year; the man cozens me and I endure it all with my usual negligence.”13 Whether Paula Brito was cozening him or not, we do know that Primaveras only came out in September in a “clearly printed paper edition on Holland paper.”14
Although Paula Brito helped Casimiro distribute some copies, possibly to those who had paid for subscriptions at his bookshop, the poet’s letters show that he made strenuous efforts to ensure that his book reached the other subscribers. In October, for example, Casimiro sent thirty copies to Sousa Júnior, recommending to his friend that, if any were left over, he should send them to Nova Friburgo, “in the care of Freitinhas,” or sell them at the price set by Paula Brito.15 In the following weeks, Primaveras won critical acclaim, although it did not sell well enough to cover the cost of publication.16 Casimiro died a year after the book was released, at the age of twenty-one, six months after his father’s death. When dictating his will, afflicted with an advanced stage of tuberculosis, the poet recalled his debt to Paula Brito: “I do not recall the total amount, [being] the remainder for the printing of my poetry.”17
Paula Brito had only printed and distributed Casimiro de Abreu’s book, leaving the selection of the works published and, more importantly, the cost of publication, to the poet himself. However, in other cases, Paula Brito purchased manuscripts and paid for the publication of original works at his own expense and risk. Therefore, in addition to striving to set up a large-scale press, the publisher was also looking to finance the publication of Brazilian authors. In 1855, the articles of association of the Dous de Dezembro literary publishing house clearly included the “protection . . . of authors by rewarding their works [and] purchasing their manuscripts.” For that purpose, it earmarked the fabulous sum of 20,000,000 réis “to be used as the association sees fit, both in its interests and in the interests of literature, authors, and translators.”18
Although I have not been able to find contracts between Paula Brito and his authors similar to the existing agreements of the publisher Baptiste Louis Garnier,19 articles in the literary section of Marmota fluminense indicate that Paula Brito was purchasing the rights to publish literary works. The novel Maria, ou, A menina roubada (Maria, or, The kidnapped girl), by Teixeira e Sousa, which was initially serialized in September 1852, was preceded by a note stating that “To engage all people of different tastes in reading our newspaper, we have just hired one of our novelists, whose writing is already known to the public for many and varied works.”20 When the first installment of the novel came out in Marmota fluminense, another note informed its readers that “Our endeavor, from today onwards, will be to encourage Brazilian talent, offering advantages to those who devote themselves to the belles-lettres, and prove themselves worthy of public praise and every sacrifice we can possibly make.”21 In addition to Teixeira e Sousa’s novel, the publisher’s first literary venture, Paula Brito also published a considerable number of works by Joaquim Manuel de Macedo.
TABLE 11. Selection of works by Joaquim Manuel de Macedo published between 1844 and 1861
Source:
A Catálogo da Biblioteca Brasiliana USP, www.brasiliana.usp.br
B José de Paula Ramos Jr., Marisa Midori Deaecto, and Plinio Martins Filho, eds., Paula Brito: Editor, Poeta e Artífice das Letras, 2010.
C Catálogo de Obras Raras da Biblioteca Nacional do Rio de Janeiro, catcrd.bn.br.
The publisher once wrote in Marmota that “Dr. Joaquim Manuel de Macedo . . . has insisted on having a rapport with me since the time when, as a Latin student, he was writing Odes ao Barata (Odes to Barata) in 1832, in the village of Itaboraí.” From then on, he had taken pride in that association. “He always takes pleasure in appreciating my ideas, perhaps because he has as yet nothing to regret, and God forbid [he should].”22 A selection of thirteen of Macedo’s works published between 1844 and 1861, the year of Paula Brito’s death, indicates that the two men were indeed very close.
Table 11 shows that seven of the thirteen works selected were published by Paula Brito, which suggests that although the publisher and the author may have disagreed on politics, that was not a problem where publishing was concerned. Macedo was elected provincial deputy and general deputy for the Liberal Party in several legislatures, and A carteira do meu tio (My uncle’s wallet), a work published by the Conservative Paula Brito in serialized and book form, was a frontal attack on the conciliation of political parties backed by the Conservatives. Therefore, it was not unreasonable for the advertisements published in the press to describe it as “opposition satire.”23 However, the two men’s conflicting ideologies may have been overcome by Macedo’s success with the reading public. His early novels were published by a different press, perhaps at his own expense. However, between 1854 and 1856, five books came out with Dous de Dezembro’s imprint. In this regard, the publication of Vicentina is a good example. The original novel was originally published in installments in Marmota fluminense in March 1854.24 Meanwhile, the book version was ready for publication, as Paula Brito offered it to the company’s shareholders as a premium.25 The following year, when A carteira do meu tio was first serialized in Marmota fluminense, Paula Brito published an article stating that the “advancement of literature” in many cases required the “sacrifice of profits” for the newspaper:
For the advancement of literature, the editorial team is undoubtedly striving to obtain important original works from Brazilian pens, and is happy to be able to start today the lovely joco-serious story of A carteira de meu tio, in addition to a new novel from Dr. Macedo, which may begin on Tuesday.
The editors sacrifice all Marmota’s profits to the present day in order to reach the number of subscribers it wants to have in the future, which it hopes to achieve, based on its six years of existence, and seeing that every year it receives valuable contingents of new subscriptions from the public.26
The records do not show the retail price of these “important original works from Brazilian pens.” Even so, the announcement indicates that “Brazilian literature” was a major draw for the newspaper, and Paula Brito spared no effort to publish it. However, sometimes a great deal of effort was not required to provide readers and subscribers with such delights. For example, in 1859, Bruno Seabra, a literato from Paraná who was living in Rio de Janeiro, became seriously ill. Stricken with violent fevers, the young man urgently needed money to pay his debts, including what he owed to the pharmacist who supplied him with medicine. Amid all these difficulties, he wrote a novel and sought out Paula Brito, who purchased the manuscript—on what terms we do not know. In any case, according to the author of the account originally published in the newspaper A regeneração, “with the income from Paulo, the poet was able to pay his debts, considering himself very fortunate at a time when his recovery was very much in doubt.”27
Paulo, Bruno Seabra’s novel, followed the same course as the works of Joaquim Manuel de Macedo—it was serialized in Marmota before being published in book form.28 Thus, it is clear that owning a literary journal was of vital importance for nineteenth-century publishers, and not just in Rio de Janeiro. By the early 1850s, the US publishing market was absorbing novels with print runs in the hundreds of thousands, such as Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin and The Wide, Wide World, by Susan Warner. However, literary magazines run by publishers, such as Putnam’s Monthly, later Putnam’s Magazine, and Harper’s Monthly continued to play a decisive role in that market. Similarly, according to Mollier, Louis Hachette’s Journal pour tous, which reached an impressive print run of seventy-five thousand, was a “laboratory for author recruitment.” The same thing happened in Britain with Blackwood’s Magazine, published since 1817.29
This is highly significant because Paula Brito, who was aware of the value of a publication like A marmota, had a serious falling-out with the newspaper’s founder, Próspero Diniz, who was born in the province of Bahia. The bi-weekly, which sometimes had print runs of more than one thousand copies,30 went through three different stages. During the first stage, from September 1849 to March 1852, it was called Marmota na Corte and belonged to Próspero Diniz, who was introduced to Paula Brito by Manuel de Araújo Porto-Alegre shortly after Diniz’s arrival from Bahia. Paula Brito himself tells us how their meeting came about:
Having arrived in [Rio], Mr. Próspero Diniz in September 1849 came to my house and, wanting to publish a newspaper, recalled the titles Luneta, Marmota (Groundhog), Marmota fluminense, and I don’t know what else; it was my opinion that Mr. [Diniz] should continue writing under the title of his newspaper in Bahia—Marmota—so we agreed that a new newspaper should be called Marmota na Corte (Marmota in Rio), a recollection that was later corroborated by Mr. Porto-Alegre, the first person who told me about Mr. [Diniz].31
The honeymoon with the Bahian writer was short-lived, and money was at the root of their troubles. “After just one issue was published, Mr. [Diniz] demanded that I give him 60,000 réis per month; a few days later he wanted 80,000 réis, and finally 100,000 réis, because the newspaper was so influential and was selling well,” explained Paula Brito, who thought it absurd “to pay 100,000 réis per month to an employee for a few articles he wrote without being responsible for anything else [!]”32 Their problems worsened when Diniz decided to return to his home province in December 1850, promising to continue collaborating with the newspaper, whose title he still owned. After calculating the wages owed, Paula Brito paid him for “that month up to the present day.” At first, Diniz kept his promise, but to Paula Brito’s indignation, he then launched a newspaper entitled Verdadeira Marmota de Próspero Diniz (Próspero Diniz’s Real Marmota). Soon afterwards, after moving to Recife, Pernambuco, he started up A marmota pernambucana. Meanwhile, just as Diniz was starting up Marmotas in the northern part of the Empire, Paula Brito was still editing and printing A marmota na corte, whose readership was growing steadily.33
In September 1851, when Dous de Dezembro was just getting started, the Bahian newspaper editor returned to Rio de Janeiro and sought Paula Brito out to receive the money he was owed. At the time, the publisher only wanted to pay him for the original articles Diniz had submitted while he was away. But the Bahian wanted more. Justifying his demands with the excuse that the money would go to his mother, Diniz managed to get Paula Brito to pay him half the newspaper’s profits—“about 360,000 and some réis”—which the publisher rounded up to 400,000 réis.34 Paula Brito was clearly angry with the journalist, but even so, he entered into a “new agreement” with him:
I reached a new agreement with Mr. [Diniz], who wanted the same 100 [thousand] réis he had received in 1849, [which] I did not want to give him because the circumstances had changed, and I was sure that A marmota would no longer sell as well as it had back then. If this is what transpired, how can Mr. Diniz say that he created and then handed over Marmota to me, which I took over to make a fortune? . . . Make a fortune from Marmota! . . . What an idea!35
Paula Brito might not have been getting rich from Marmota, but he was still unwilling to give it up. The following extract is wonderful because, in addition to showing that the publisher was furious about Diniz’s behavior, it gives us a glimpse into the working relations between Paula Brito and the journalists in his employ:
Mr. [Diniz] started writing in September, and that month I paid him 90,000 réis for the news of his arrival. I opened a 2,000 réis subscription for four months to see if I could get more advantageous entries; But Mr. [Diniz’s] influence was waning, like all things in this world, so I set him a monthly fee of 60,000. Mr. [Diniz] became ill, and in that time he wrote nothing until the end of January (as can be seen from his article on his sufferings); I always paid him 60,000 réis, taking it to his home, while he was bedridden; but once Mr. [Diniz] had recovered, and seeing that he could not, or would not write, I told him in March that he would be dismissed from the editorial staff at the end of the month if he carried on with such negligence; Mr. [Diniz] then began writing, and indeed, in April, he wrote a few articles (always one to two pages); but seeing that, despite these much-publicized articles, A marmota was not selling, and to support it I was obliged to pay (as I have always paid) several other employees (as well as those who honor me their manuscripts), and publishing songs, fashion plates, etc., which is what the readers like most these days; I told Mr. [Diniz] that he was no longer part of the editorial staff, and accordingly I paid him 60,000 réis for April, for which he issued a receipt, as usual.36
Considering the amounts that Próspero Diniz received, the monthly wage of a Marmota employee must have been about 60,000 réis in 1852. That year, an arroba (about 14.7 kilos) of rice cost 1,000 réis, a bushel of beans cost 2,050 réis, and an arroba of beef jerky cost 2,800 réis.37 From the point of view of a basic diet, such wages might have been satisfactory. However, in Diniz’s case, the outcome was not at all amicable. The former editor saw himself as the owner of the newspaper’s name, which Paula Brito contested, claiming that there were several papers in the Empire with the same name. Próspero Diniz also accused Paula Brito of “mutilating” his articles, and Paula Brito concurred, as he considered Diniz’s writing offensive.38 After Próspero Diniz’s departure from the newspaper in late March 1852, Paula Brito became the sole owner of A marmota da corte. He renamed it Marmota fluminense: Jornal de modas e variedades (Rio de Janeiro province Marmota: Newspaper of fashion and varieties) and continued publishing it under that title until late June 1857, when, after Dous de Dezembro went bankrupt, it changed its name to A marmota.
Active for more than a decade, it is no exaggeration to say that A marmota’s longevity was a major feat in the history of the nineteenth-century Brazilian press. The loyal subscribers who ensured its success included Miguel Archanjo Galvão, a civil servant who made his career in the Ministry of Finance. According to receipts found among manuscripts in Brazil’s National Library, dated between 1859 and 1861, when he was a clerk, Galvão paid his subscription for the biweekly publication religiously.39 In 1861, the “periodical published by the learned Mr. Francisco de Paula Brito, the artist par excellence,” was recommended by A. C. Azevedo Coimbra as being highly beneficial reading for Brazilian families. In the same article, he named the “skilled pens” of its collaborators: “of the distinguished poet Antônio Gonçalves Teixeira e Sousa; of the erudite publicist, Dr. Justiniano José da Rocha; of the learned Moreira de Azevedo; of the talented poet, Bruno Seabra, and Messrs. Machado de Assis, Bráulio Cordeiro, José Morais e Silva, Castanheda Júnior, Leo Junius, Rodrigues Proença, and other young men of recognized talent.”40 However, this Pleiad did not include an author who already enjoyed considerable prestige. Although he lived near Paula Brito’s bookshop, residing at no. 73, Praça da Constituição, it took some time for the two men to form a closer relationship. The reason for that was chiefly political, and the author in question was José de Alencar.
Alencar wrote his first novels, as well as Cartas sobre a Confederação dos Tamoios (Letters on the Tamoio Confederation), when he was editor-in-chief of the Diário do Rio de Janeiro. Indeed, after being published in that newspaper’s serialized novels section, they were published in book form by the newspaper’s press, Empresa Tipográfica do Diário. Alencar’s procedure of engaging in literary polemics, as in the case of Cartas, as well as producing prose fiction, such as A viuvinha (The little widow) and O guarani, to boost the newspaper’s circulation was not unfamiliar to Paula Brito, and possibly any other newspaper editor of that time. However, in his literary autobiography, Alencar wrote that he had sold the publishing rights for one thousand copies of O guarani to “the Brandão bookshop” for 1,400,000 réis.41 He could have sold them to his neighbor Paula Brito, following the example of Joaquim Manuel de Macedo, a recognized author whom Alencar himself had praised. Why he chose not to may be an interesting question to pose.
José de Alencar and Paula Brito were never openly at war, unlike, for example, the dispute between the publisher and Próspero Diniz over ownership of A marmota. However, as Paula Brito wrote to Alencar in November 1857, “we lack the titles and close relations required to honor ourselves with the name of FRIEND,”42 attesting to a quarrel with aesthetic and political ramifications. The roots of discord may have been set down in 1856, when Paula Brito was not at all pleased by José de Alencar’s contemptuous treatment of Domingo José Gonçalves de Magalhães’s Confederação dos Tamoios (Tamoio Confederation).
TABLE 12. Selected works by José de Alencar published between 1856 and 1861
Sources:
1. Catálogo da Biblioteca Brasiliana (USP), www.brasiliana.usp.br.
2. Catálogo de Obras Raras da Biblioteca Nacional do Rio de Janeiro, catcrd.bn.br.
Gonçalves de Magalhães’s tragedies—Antônio José, ou, O poeta e a inquisição (Antônio José, or, The poet and the inquisition), Olgiato, and Otelo, ou, O mouro de Veneza (his translation of Shakespeare’s Othello)43—were among the first plays Paula Brito published back in the days of the Impartial Press. The same occurred with the epic poem in ten cantos Confederação dos Tamoios, penned by Gonçalves de Magalhães when he was serving as a diplomat in Europe. However, in this case, Pedro II made it his personal mission to transform the poem into the magnum opus of Brazilian literature, entrusting Paula Brito—then the “Printer of the Imperial House”—with the task of publishing it. Therefore, all indications are that in May 1855 the monarch hired the publisher to produce two editions. According to a report in Correio mercantil, “the first, luxury [edition] has a limited number of copies and belongs exclusively to His Majesty the Emperor, as it was paid for from his own purse.” The second edition, which was supposed to be released one month after the Imperial edition, and for which lists of subscribers were formed, would be “produced at the publisher’s expense, according to the powers invested in him for that purpose.”44
Paula Brito’s “purse” must have been delighted with the profits that would certainly fill it through the publication of that poem. The publisher worked hard and, a year later, the newspapers announced the publication of Confederação dos Tamoios, stressing the peerless quality of that edition. As agreed, one month before distributing copies to his subscribers, Paula Brito delivered the emperor’s volumes, richly bound by the Lombaerts, who, according to the newspapers, would be sending copies to Germany. In this regard, the quality of that volume of poetry even garnered praise from France, and it was described by a reviewer from Rio de Janeiro as “clearly printed, elegant, even luxurious. It does honor to the presses and arts of Brazil, which it so ably represents and for which such efforts have been expended.”45
Everything was going well until a certain “Ig,” a pseudonym used by José de Alencar, began systematically pointing out the defects of that work. As a result, Cartas sobre a Confederação dos Tamoios, came on the scene—a series of eight articles published in the Diário do Rio de Janeiro which were so popular that they were published in a small volume in the course of the heated debate.46 With Cartas, Alencar sparked a literary controversy of which the imperial publishing industry had never seen the like. The battle lines were drawn, with the editor-in-chief of the Diário on one side and Manuel de Araújo-Porto, Friar Francisco do Mont’Alverne, and Pedro II himself on the other. Well-known to historians,47 there is no solid evidence that the squabble about Confederação dos Tamoios affected sales of the book. The publisher may even have benefited from the curiosity aroused by the dispute. But if that did in fact occur, it would have been no consolation for that loyal subject of Pedro II.
The following year, the novelist and the publisher fell out because of O demônio familiar (The family demon), a four-act comedy by José de Alencar staged in the Ginásio Dramático Theater. Paula Brito was in the audience on opening night, November 5, 1857, which was well attended. The curtain rises on the adventures of Pedro, a slave and the title character, who is doing everything he can to become a coachman, creating a number of embarrassing situations for his master, a doctor named Eduardo. The publisher left the theater feeling unsettled by what he had seen, so much so that, five days after the premiere, he wrote a lengthy critique in A marmota. In the first part of the review, Paula Brito introduced the characters and gave a summary of the plot, identifying Figaro in The Barber of Seville as José de Alencar’s main inspiration. However, focusing on the problem of the slave’s manumission at the end of the comedy, he concluded that O demônio familiar did not have “an entirely moral ending.”
Paula Brito analyzed the play from a very specific angle. He found Eduardo to be a weak master, incapable of being “the lawmaker in his house, the competent judge to punish the lapses” of his subordinates. He also considered Pedro, the slave who “despite being a student’s boy, the mistress’s Creole [and] the village idiot,” to be capable of developing complex reasoning, quoting aphorisms, and saying and doing anything that came to mind. Therefore, the publisher supported using manumission as a reward for good captives, but slaves like Pedro did not merit that seigneurial gift: “the best and greatest of prizes that can and should be given to a good slave, to one who dwells in our heart, well raised, that is—freedom.” The man holding the pen and espousing these ideas was the slaveowner Paula Brito who, although he knew something about dramatic literature, was much more familiar with the institution of slavery. In sum, the publisher concluded, “The author of the comedy should note that, speaking in this manner, we accept things as our laws and our society require.”48
The publisher also disapproved of the fact that the slave was named Pedro—after all, why not call him “Constantine” instead of naming him after the Brazilian emperor? Furthermore, he thought it inappropriate and even disrespectful for the play to have been dedicated to the empress. The response to Paula Brito’s review came swiftly, published the following day in José de Alencar’s newspaper. The article in the Diário’s arts and entertainment segment stated that the publisher suffered from “criticomania,” and was incapable of “critiquing” but merely of “critiquizing,” randomly spewing out baseless opinions:
According to review, however, Mr. Alencar’s comedy is no good.
It is immoral; perhaps because it does not contain the innocent graces of cracking verses; it made Mr. Paula Brito blush: it should not have been dedicated to Her Majesty the empress, who accepted it, and for which she sought the opinion of the emperor, who, due to the protection he gives to Brazilian verses, even protected an immoral production. Finally, a [young slave] is called Pedro.
But seriously, Mr. Paula Brito, this last observation is disgusting; and the author of the comedy does not fear it, because Mr. Paula Brito with his Marmota, his opinions, and his sui generis respect, will not make him accept it. Your opinions, Mr. Paula Brito, do not even have the power to influence weak minds like mine.49
Finally, the author of the article, which a biographer of José de Alencar has attributed to Leonel de Alencar, the novelist’s brother,50 addressed one last word to the critic: “Let us not be angry; frankness is repaid with frankness; we may despise a man’s opinions, but we value the individual for his good qualities.”
At this point, the Alencar brothers and Paula Brito disagreed not only about theatrical matters but also about politics. José and Leonel were the sons of the priest, senator, and historic liberal José Martiniano de Alencar. Protected by his father’s prestige, José de Alencar ran for office as a deputy for the Liberal party in his home province, Ceará. He only won two votes in that election. Nevertheless, the novelist was far from orthodox, like his father, who had played an active role in the Liberal revolts of 1842 and 1848.51 Upon the death of a Conservative leader, the Marquess of Paraná, José de Alencar wrote an obituary in which he praised the policy of party conciliation that the deceased politician had devised. Furthermore, when he became editor-in-chief of Diário do Rio de Janeiro, Alencar saw no problem with asking another prominent Conservative, Eusébio de Queirós, to grant him the concession to publish of the official acts of the province, which would bring in good money for the newspaper.52
Paula Brito and José de Alencar clashed openly in the political press, especially when the publisher launched O moderador, a newspaper which, as we have seen, fervently defended the Conservative cabinet headed by the Marquess of Caxias. The Diário do Rio de Janeiro, “with whom we deeply feel we do not always agree,” according to one of the Moderador’s editorials, was then headed by José de Alencar, and had been eagerly awaiting the fall of that same cabinet since 1857. “It seems that the modern intellectual,” wrote Paula Brito in one of his articles addressed to the Diário, “is full of curiosity to see who the new ministers will be; is impatient to wield his weapons against them, and so is angry at those who do not want to see the seats for the new opponents he awaits immediately vacated.”53
In 1860, however, Senator Alencar’s son went over to the other side.54 After his father’s death and his own departure from the Diário, José de Alencar’s occasional flirtation with the Conservatives quickly developed into a courtship, engagement, and marriage. That year, the novelist once again ran for a seat in parliament for the province of Ceará, this time as a Conservative. In addition to getting himself elected, by forming strong links with Rio’s Conservatives Alencar also established closer ties with Paula Brito who, while not being an openly declared enemy, had not considered him a friend. Indeed, it was only after José de Alencar became a Conservative that Francisco de Paula Brito published two of his books. As we can see in Table 12, they were the second edition of the libretto for the opera Noite de São João (St. John’s Night), which came out in 1860, and the play Mãe (Mother), released by Paula Brito’s widow in 1862. Like all books published in Rio de Janeiro, they faced obstacles to their printing and distribution.