Maria Dusá: Lindolpho Rocha. Story of diamond hunters in the interior of Bahia.
Braz Cubas and Quincas Borba: Machado de Assis. Historical novels dealing with colonial life.
Esphynge: Afranio Peixoto. Social life of Rio and Petropolis, or Dentro da Noite or Vida Vertiginosa, by “João do Rio,” also social life of the Capital.
There are also the finely written novels of Brazil’s woman writer, Julia Lopez de Almeida, whose Fallencia is a very skilful piece of work; and no study of Brazilian life would be complete without José Verissimo’s Scenas da Vida Amazonica, preserving tales and legends of the Amazon, and the kindly Memorias da Rua do Ouvidor, of J. M. de Macedo, telling tales of the early days of Rio de Janeiro.
Poets are many. The “Prince of Brazilian poets,” acclaimed by public vote, is Olavo Bilac, whose Via Lactea is a beautiful work: he is one of the most distinguished members of the Academia Brasileira, whose President is the publicist and orator of international fame, Senator Ruy Barbosa.
Olavo Bilac is something more than a poet; he has recently made it his mission to sound a “call to arms,” addressed to Brazilian young men, with the object of bringing about physical and moral improvement through military service. His addresses in the capitals in 1915 made a great stir: he later, in the middle of 1916, began a tour of Brazil, penetrating into interior regions as well as visiting coast towns, to repeat his appeal. A most admired and beloved poet, Bilac has prestige which few other people could bring to such a self-appointed task.
After Bilac comes Alberto de Oliveira, and a long list of other dexterous versifiers; many produce charming poems, and he who wishes to have an acquaintance with classical Brazilian verse must read the output of Gonçalves Dias, who took the life of the Indians for his theme, as well as that of the lyric writer Gonzaga and the graceful Claudio da Costa.
Brazil also has a national stage. I know of no play of first-class importance, but there is an active supply of native Brazilian actors and actresses, and if their work is generally that of playing in the home-made revistas, and if these revistas are not very high art, at least they are genuinely Brazilian, and often extremely amusing. I suppose that on the stage, as in the pages of the Brazilian press, there is a limit beyond which the libel law would become active, but I cannot imagine where it is drawn; the audience rocks with laughter when well-known political personages are caricatured upon the stage—as they are lampooned in the press—and no notice appears to be taken of whatever alludes to matters of intimate family concern. Nobody in the public eye is exempt, and the result is that Brazil possesses a lively, home-made stage which is at least a beginning in dramatic craft.
Brazil has an exuberant press. There is a large number of dailies and weeklies in proportion to the population, many of the smaller journals existing to serve the purposes of some special movement, colony, or party, and there are many technical periodicals of varying merit. Grace, pungency and a frequently merciless frankness are the chief characteristics of the free-lance sections of the Brazilian press, although there are certain staid and conservative journals whose dignity never deserts them. The first of all Brazilian newspapers was a little sheet started in Rio, soon after the arrival of Dom João, by Frey Tiburcio; it was practically a Court Journal. Two of its notable antagonists later on were the Tamoyo and the Sentinella. All of these early periodicals died a natural death, the newspaper of longest continual publication in Brazil being the Diario de Pernambuco.
The premier newspaper in Brazil, which is also perhaps the best in South America, although it has a formidable rival in the Argentine, is “o velho,” the famous Jornal do Commercio, the semi-official, powerful, wealthy, and most excellent daily of Rio, with a circulation all over Brazil and reaching out as well to most parts of the educated world. It is a great paper in all senses of the word, is finely printed—this great sheet, often with thirty-two and sometimes eighty big pages, eight columns wide, printed in a language requiring the “til,” “cedilla,” acute and circumflex accents, constantly employed, comes out day after day almost without any typographical errors. Its reviews of commercial affairs are made with authority; it is remarkable for having no editorials, anything that needs to be said editorially appearing in the “Varias Noticias;” months may pass without this column containing more than chronicles of official acts and movements, but when the Jornal is moved to speak its voice comes in no uncertain tone. Its denunciations and pronouncements are discussed like a Papal Edict in the Middle Ages.