writing_womans_lives_symposium_paper_book_v2

In his essay “Paris of the Second Empire,” Walter Benjamin quotes an observation of Goethe”s
“that all human beings, both the highest and the lowest, take with them a secret that if known would
make them odious to all the others.” 20 Eça’s criticism in Cousin Basílio will be constructed to a large
scale on the revelation of the intimate secrets of a domestic scene in the life of the character Luisa,
where everybody plays honorable roles, in a comedy that exposes secrets that no one can forgive.
The knowledge of so many intimate details causes certain consternation. Few are spared in this
interrogation. Leopoldina, the woman of dubious reputation, seems innocent when compared to
other characters. And when one thinks there is nothing left to be disclosed, the author presents
Margarida, a “graveyard milliner.” It seems no one is spared in this comedy of adulterous
relationships, or those of other sexual tyrannies. Is Sebastian spared? Perhaps, but even this “poor
good lad” does not escape Eça’s acute and assailing characterization:
Sebastian had an old‐fashioned way about him. He was lonely and withdrawn. But in
Latin, they called him the “hairy” one; they would pin tails on him, impudently steal his
lunchbox. Sebastian, who had the strength of a gymnast, offered the resignation of a
mart yr.
21
The role of martyr does not seem to hold a prestigious place in this society where social
relationships are markedly masks that cover up the violation of “old‐fashioned” moral codes. And
Lisbon, is it spared?
Lisbon operates as a sort of amplified cutout of Luisa’s faults. The perspective that gives shape to
this landscape and to many other cutouts with which Lisbon is presented, does not much differ from
the looks with which Reinaldo and Basílio eye the city. The Lisbon that these eyes reveal is a lesser
city, destitute of its erotic dimension 22 , because, in this novel, the city is more a detail in which to
compose a scene modulated by obscure and oftentimes obscene behavior. If Reinaldo found Lisbon
temperature “paltry” and “soaked himself in perfume due to the ignoble smell of Portugal,” Basílio,
since his return from Paris, “still could not eat. He positively could not eat!” I ask myself where the
magnificent Portuguese cuisine was hidden in this novel? A possible answer could be because in this
city/Luisa, what could be good and sensually appetizing was destitute of its positive attributes.
The resemblance between Lisbon and Luisa is incredible. The same adjectives are very often used
for both. But the similarity is not reserved just for adjectives. With regard to them, what can be
called a lessened characterization occurs. That is, Luisa and Lisbon are seen by what they do not
have, or cannot have. Bazilio’s conquest is basically marked by the devaluation of signs that refer to
the life of Luisa as opposed to the distinction given foreign women. Luisa has no relationships, no
toilettes, nor even a good position. She is a petty bourgeois from the Lowlands, as Eça says. And this
is as paltry as good weather.
It is a bit shocking that a novel that focuses so much on the sexual dimension of its characters
should erase so effectively their erotic dimension. The same way that Luisa is seen in this light, so is
Lisbon. In its streets, plazas and squares, the inhospitable environment impedes the interaction of
people. The Lisbon played in the novel displaces its eroticism to the private sphere. Everything
happens in private, or worse, within an intimate scope that cannot be legitimized. Perhaps we can
see these domestic scenes, painted by Eça in Cousin Basílio, as varied forms of what Richard Sennett
so appropriately denominated “tyrannies of intimacy.” Eça, no doubt, dominated the senses of this
other “evil of the Century,” so brilliantly handled in this novel. This may also explain the enormous
success with which the novel was received at the time.
In the article entitled “Padre Amaro’s and Cousin Basílio’s crimes,” José‐Augusto França tells us
that “Cousin Basílio met with unusual and unexpected success: three thousand copies sold in a
month and a second edition published right after that.” 23 Aterwards, the editions multiplied. Eça’s
criticism of the small Lisbon bourgeois group was very well received. The representatives of the
official, sentimental, literary, agricultural and superstitious world could, thus, be annihilated.
613