My promise is already said
That I will in a convent live.
_C._ How many perils mar the peace
Of this gloomy sea of love,
315 From day to day they still increase
And its tempests greater prove.
If a monk then thou must be
Husband mine will ne'er be seen:
If a monk thou must be, for me
320 Thou leavest of necessity
The fate of Dido, hapless queen.
_F._ Thou wilt find no sure escape
With Gonçalo not to marry,
For whatever plans thou shape
325 Thou wilt never round the cape
And thy father the day will carry.
_C._ O deliver us from ill!
May such never be my lot,
For Gonçalo loves me not,
330 And Gonçalo I love less still.
But there he comes, see, Ferdinand,
Above there in the mountain pass,
And Madanela goes before,
She it is that he searches for.
335 _F._ Behind this hedge here we will stand
And listen to them as they pass
And we will see what's in his mind
And if to thee he be inclined
Or if thou art given o'er.
340 _Enter Madanela, singing, and behind her Gonçalo:_
(_Song:_)
When here below there's rain and snow
What will it be on the mountain-height?
On the hills of Coimbra 'twas snowing
345 and raining,
What will it be on the mountain-height?
(_Spoken:_)
Gonçalo, what is your pretence?
_G._ Madanela, Madanela!
350 _M._ Go back at once, I say, go hence,
Since thou hast so little sense.
_G._ Madanela, Madanela!
_M._ What another plague is here,
What annoyance, by my soul!
355 What, wouldst thou now follow me?
_G._ I suppose I need not fear
That thou shouldst eat me whole.
But if me thou wouldest kill
Because of this my love for thee
360 Not serious surely is thy will.
_M._ Gonçalo, go back, go back to thy plough,
For all this is but vanity.
_G._ What reason canst thou give me now
To refuse to marry me?
365 I shall have of wheat enow
And thy life with me shall be
As a goldfinch's free from toil.
I will not have thee hoe the soil,
I will not have thee work in the sun,
370 But thou shalt sit and take thy ease
And by me all the work be done.
Art thou willing, Madanela?
_M._ Gonçalo, go back, go back to thy plough,
With none will I marry, I avow,
375 In the whole Serra da Estrella,
In vain wilt thou persist and tease.
Catalina is a very good girl
And fair enough, though not a pearl,
Comes of good stock and loves thee well,
380 And she is very sensible.
Then take what's offered thee and so
Shalt balm of thy desire know.
_G._ Nay, but I pray thee do not seek
To teach my heart what way to go.
385 _M._ Go hence, if nonsense thou must speak.
_G._ I say I will not marry her.
_M._ And I will not marry thee.
But yonder comes Rodrigo, see,
After Felipa, and I aver
390 That not a fig for him cares she.
_Enter Rodrigo, singing:_
My love, let's be going, be going together,
Be going together.
Rodrigo and Felipa were crossing the river,
My love, let's be going.
395 How is it, Felipa, with thee?
_F._ And what business is that of thine?
Days past I've bidden thee thy chatter
To thy father to confine.
_R._ But that, my dear, does not suit me.
400 _F._ And why drag me into the matter?
_R._ Felipa, turn thy eyes this way
And give me that fair hand of thine.
_F._ Away, away with thee, I say,
What art thou to me, in the name of evil?
405 _R._ So, Felipa, thou art here, I see.
_F._ Rodrigo, wouldst thou begin again?
If ever there was feather-brain,
But I would not be uncivil.
_R._ Would then that thou mightest be
410 Now less shrewish and unkind.
Yet even that is to my mind,
So charming art thou unto me
So graceful and so fair to see.
_F._ Everyone should regulate
415 At reason's bidding his request,
Thou my heart requirest
But I cannot give thee that
Nor listen to thee save in jest.
And as to my marrying I wis,
420 Although I keep the sheep, withal
An honoured judge my father is
And by his side the rest are small,
He's best related of them all.
At Court too he's been many a day
425 And the king once spoke to him, to say:
'In the district of Monsarraz
And Fronteira, Affonso Vaz,
What is the price of wheat, I pray?'
So that here to marry would be for me,
430 Rodrigo, to act unreasonably.
_R._ Shouldest thou a courtier marry
What amusement unto me
And consolation that would carry!
For if as a country-lout he harry
435 Thee all day and for evermore,
Would I, what though my heart should grieve,
Rejoice, since, though I thee adore,
Me thus contemptuously dost thou leave,
And if he bid thee keep thy place
440 As being but of low degree:
Since thou despisest such as me
Thee shall the mighty then abase.
_F._ When I see a courtier fine
With his velvet slippers, and
445 His viola in his hand,
'Tis all up with this heart of mine
Nor can I his ways withstand.
_R._ Gonçalo, come help me now
At the labour of my plough
450 And I'll help thee anon with thine.
For as to the other 'twill be in fine
When its fortune shall allow.
_G._ As for Madanela, I
Have ceased at last my luck to try.
455 _R._ Ah! then the same thing it must be
As with Felipa and me.
_G._ Yes, 'tis even so we stand.
_R._ And how is't with thee, Ferdinand?
_F._ I am in both smiles and frowns,
460 And a lover's life is planned
In a maze of ups and downs.
_Enters a hermit who says:_
_H._ Shepherds, for love of God, on me
Pray bestow your charity.
_R._ Rather him it now behoves
465 Charitable towards us to be
And tie the knots of all our loves.
_H._ Marrying is in God's hand
And from Him comes fortune too,
For by His especial grace
470 All men fortune may embrace
And good sense assists thereto.
Place yourselves beneath His sway,
Take not any thought to choose
But receive what comes your way,
475 For these idle loves, I say,
You'll in sure repentance lose.
Your names, my daughters, here you
leave;
My sons, now each your lot receive:
Behave yourselves in such a sort
480 That you your infinite thanks shall give
To God, and to the King and Court.
_The hermit takes from his sleeve three small written pieces of paper
and gives them to the shepherds that each may take his lot, and
Ferdinand says:_
Rodrigo shall the first lot claim.
We'll see now if he acts aright.
_R._ In the Virgin Mary's name
485 Read it, padre, for the same
Brings to me my day or night.
_The hermit reads the writing:_
'By Fortune's and by God's command
Whosoever draws this lot
Shall to Felipa give his hand,
490 Shall do so and reason not.'
_R._ I have won the victory,
Felipa, come hither to me, my dear.
_F._ Away with thee, away, dost hear,
Thinkest thou this will profit thee?
495 Ne'er such a victory shalt thou see.
_G._ Draw thy lot now, Ferdinand,
Let's see what for thee is planned.
_F._ Here goes then in the name of Heaven;
Read, padre, what is written there.
_The hermit reads:_
500 'The sentence is already given
And its substance doth declare
That thou shalt Madanela wed.'
_M._ Well, Ferdinand, I do not care,
If it must be so, no more be said.
505 _F._ Many a day hast thou heard that from me
But thou e'er hadst me in disdain.
_C._ O Ferdinand, my uncle's swain,
Would that I might marry thee!
_G._ O Madanela, if only now
510 We had come together, I and thou.
_C._ Rather might I straight expire
Than that Ferdinand should stay there
So remote from my desire.
Yet I do not greatly care,
515 Since to thee I am inclined,
Gonçalo.
_G._ And even so,
Catalina, art thou to my mind,
But come away that I may know
What graces I in thee shall find.
520 _F._ Rodrigo, as I look upon thee
I begin to grow content.
_R._ If to that I have not won thee
By me no further prayers be spent.
For while I have courted thee
525 Daily hast thou flouted me.
_C._ Though from time to time I thus,
Rodrigo, behaved, truly
Very fond was I of thee.
And when most contemptuous
530 Thy wife I refused to be
'Twas not that I had no love
But, that I tested thee, to prove
The heart of thy audacity.
_Hermit._ Now I have a mind to say
535 What I came to look for here.
For my wish it is to stay
In a hermitage that may
Yield me plenty of good cheer.
Ready-made would I find it: ill
540 Could I all these joys fulfil
Worn out by toil and labour fell.
Wide not narrow be my cell
That I may dance therein at will;
Be it in a desert land
545 Yielding wine and wheat alway,
With a fountain near at hand
And contemplation far away.
Much fish and game in brake and pool
Must I have for my own preserve
550 And as for my house it must never swerve
From an even temperature, cool
In summer and in winter warm.
Yes, and a comfortable bed
Would not do me any harm,
555 All of it of cedar-wood,
A harpsichord hung at its head:
So do I find a monk's life good.
I would lie and take my rest
And sleep on far into the day
560 So that I could not my matins say
For noise of the whistling and the singing
Of shepherdesses' songs clear ringing.
On partridge would I sup and dine,
Of stockfish should my luncheon be
565 And of wine the very best.
And the Judge's daughter should make for me
The bed on which I would recline.
And even as my beads I tell
She should forget her flock of sheep
570 And embrace me in my cell
And bite my ears and make me weep:
Yes, even thus it would be well.
My brothers, since you know, I trow
The recesses of each vale and hill
575 Be good enough to tell me now
Where best I may so have my will
And this holy life fulfil.
_G._ Yonder, padre, there's a briar
All in flower, thick and green,
580 And its thorns are long and dire:
Naked laid thereon, I ween
You would soon lose your desire.
Go and make no further stay,
For the life you wish to live
585 The true God will never give
Howsoe'er for it you pray.
_Serra._ Come, my sons, now come away,
Each with his fair bride to-day,
That our Queen and Sovereign we
590 May go visit speedily,
And let none of you gainsay,
For you must go all together,
Since, if report say true, I ween
I as nurse must serve the Queen
595 And therefore do I go thither.
Such milk as mine you will not find
No, not in all Portugal,
So plentiful and such kind
As God has blessèd me withal:
600 Pure butter were not more refined.
And since she will be princess
Of such flocks and all this land,
No other nurse shall be to hand,
For the perfect shepherdess
605 My hill-sides alone command.
_G._ From every village, house and town
Great presents must with us come down.
_S._ The town of Sea of its store
Shall five hundred cheeses send
610 All home-made, and furthermore
Of calves will she send thrice five score
And of her merino sheep
A thousand, and lambs two hundred keep
So fat that on no hills you'll find
615 Any more unto your mind.
And two thousand sacks Gouvea
Of chestnuts that there abound
Of such size, so fine and round
That all men will wonder where
620 Things so excellent are found.
And Manteigas will prepare
A store of milk for years twice seven,
By Covilham much fine cloth be given
That is manufactured there.
625 From the houses in the heather
High upon the mountain-top,
For pillows shall be sent a crop
All of royal eagles' feather
That men there are wont to gather.
630 From the Penados vale below
And the hills where three roads meet
That through rough mountain country go
They will send as present meet
Three hundred ermines white as snow
635 As edging of brocades to show.
Mines of gold too I will bring
And give all I have within
If the Queen and if the King
Order it to be brought in:
640 Plenty is there there to win.
_G._ And with presents none the less
Will we in her honour sing
With great joy and revelling
That God hath willed the Queen to bless
645 For her people's happiness.
_Enter two players from Sardoal, Jorge and Lopo, and the Serra says:_
From Castille, brothers, do you hale
Or from down yonder in the vale?
_J._ Now in the devil's name, amen,
They would have us be Castilian men
650 A lizard I would rather be
By the Holy Gospels verily.
_S._ Well and from what land come you then?
_J._ From Sardoal, and by your leave
We are come hither to defy
655 The Serra our challenge to receive
With us in song and dance to vie.
_R._ 'Tis a proud challenge for your ill,
For shepherds are so many here
And their dancing of such skill
660 That of none need they have fear.
_L._ Many peasants come yonder too
From the hills for sustenance
And we watch them sing and dance
Even as up here they do:
665 Their way of it shall you see at a glance.
_Lopo sings and dances in imitation of the men of the Serra:_
Ah, should I lay my hand on you,
Love, fair my love.
A friend of mine, a friend of old,
Sends unto me apples of gold,
670 How fair is love!
A friend I loved, even my friend,
Apples, apples of gold doth send.
So fair is love!
Apples of gold he sends amain,
675 The best of them was cleft in twain,
So fair is love!
[Apples of gold he sends to me,
The best was cleft for all to see.
How fair is love!]
(_Spoken:_)
680 That I think is, well or ill,
How you dance on fell and hill.
_S._ But now I would have you sing
As in Sardoal they do.
_L._ That is quite another thing,
685 Wait then and I'll show it you:
Now no more my lady wills
That I speak with her alone.
How am I now woe-begone!
On a day my lady said
690 That she would fain speak with me,
Now I for my sins atone
Since she says it may not be.
How am I now woe-begone!
For to me my lady said
695 That she fain would speak with me,
Now I for my sins atone
Since me now she will not see.
How am I now woe-begone!
Now I for my sins atone
700 Since she says it may not be,
Through the world will I begone
Where'er fortune carry me.
How am I now woe-begone!
_The players sing this song, dancing together, and when it is finished
Felipa says:_
I pray you go not away so,
705 But wait until the fiddle come,
O wait until you hear the drum,
Then how to move you'll scarcely know
So dead with dancing shall you go.
_C._ And meanwhile by my life I ween
710 'Twere well that we our dance and song
Should order here upon the green
And we will go with it along
To see the King and see the Queen.
_All these shepherds took their places in the dance after their custom,
but its song was sung to the accompaniment of the organ and with the
following words:_
O strike me not, mother,
715 The truth I'm confessing.
For, mother, a squire
Of our queen all on fire
With love came to woo me:
Of what he said to me
720 The truth I'm confessing.
He came for to woo me
And 'O,' said he to me,
'Were you in my power,
Alone without dower!'
725 The truth I'm confessing.
_And with this dance they went out and the play ended._
¶ LAUS DEO.
NOTES
AUTO DA ALMA
PAGE 1
The _Auto da Alma_, produced probably in 1518, which in some sense forms
a Portuguese pendant to the _Recuerde el alma_ of Jorge Manrique
(1440?-79), is a Passion play, corresponding to the modern _Stabat_ on
the eve of Good Friday, and was suggested, perhaps, by Juan del Enzina's
_Representacion a la muy bendita pasion y muerte de nuestro precioso
Redentor._ It was not, however, acted in a convent or church, but in the
new riverside palace which saw so many splendid _serões_ during King
Manuel's reign (1495-1521). King Manuel was now in the full tide of
prosperity. His sister, Queen Lianor or Eleanor (1458-1525), Gil
Vicente's patroness, who so keenly encouraged Portuguese art and
literature, was the widow (and first cousin) of his predecessor, King
João II. The theme of the play, the contention of Angel and Devil for
the possession of a human soul, was far from new. Its treatment,
however, was original and the versification is clear-cut and well
sustained throughout, while a deep sincerity and glowing fervour raise
the whole play to the loftiest heights. The metre is mostly in verses of
seven short (8848484) lines (_abcaabc_) with an occasional slight
variation. There is a French version of the play, presumably in verse
(see _Durendal_, No. 10: Oct. 1913: _Le Mystère de l'Âme_; tr. J.
Vandervelden and Luis de Almeida Braga), but the difficult task of
translating it would require, to be successful, the delicate precision
of a Théophile Gautier. In his hands it might have become in French a
thing of beauty and a joy for ever, as it is in the original Portuguese.
As to the text, without emulating the pedantry of the critic who added a
fourth season to Shelley's three, and thereby provoked a splendid
outburst of wrath from Swinburne, we may assume that in passages where
Vicente appears to have gone out of his way to avoid a required rhyme,
this is merely a case of corruption repeated in successive editions.
Thus in the _Auto Pastoril Portugues_, where _Catalina minha dama_
rhymes with _toucada_ we may perhaps substitute _fada_ for _dama_. (Cf.
_Serra da Estrella_, l. 530: _amigo_ for _marido_.) So here verse 114
must read _tristeza_, not _tristura_, to rhyme with _crueza_. In 3 one
of the _mantimentos_ should perhaps be _alimentos_: see Lucas Fernández,
_Farsas_ (1867), p. 247 (cf. the two _vaydades_ in 14); in 26 _fortunas_
should probably read _farturas_ (cf. _essas farturas_ in the _Dialogo
sobre a Ressurreiçam_); in 35 the words _mui fermosos_, or a single
longer word, have evidently dropped out; in 54 _tendes_ was perhaps an
alteration by some critic who did not realize that the Angel might
naturally associate itself with the Church (or with the Soul) and say
_temos_; the last line of 100 was perhaps the word _pecadora_ or _e
senhora_ (cf. Fr. Luis de León, _Los Nombres de Cristo_, Bk I: _mi única
abogada y señora_); in 108 also a line is missing and a rhyme required
for _figura_ (_lavrado_ must go with _Deos_, _triste_ with _vereis_,
omitting _seu_). On the other hand it is hardly necessary to alter 42 or
45 (although here _esmaltado_ is in the air) or 46 so as to make them
exactly fit the metre.
1 _perigos dos immigos_, cf. _Os Trabalhos de Jesus_, 1665 ed. p. 94: _o
caminho do Ceo he cercado de inimigos e perigos para o perder. Qualibus
in tenebris vitae quantisque periclis Degitur hoc aevi quodcunque est!_
7 Cf. Newman, _The Dream of Gerontius_, l. 292 _et seq._:
O man, strange composite of heaven and earth,
Majesty dwarfed to baseness, fragrant flower, etc.
7-10 These exquisite verses have something of the scent and perfection
of wild flowers, and that mystic rapture which is not to be found in
Goethe's more worldly _Faust_. We may, if we like, call the _Auto da
Alma_ (as also the witch-scene in the _Auto das Fadas)_ a 16th century
_Faust_, but really no parallel can be drawn between the two plays. The
ethereal beauty of Vicente's lyrical _auto_, carved in delicate ivory,
is far less varied and human: it has scarcely a touch of the cynicism
and not a touch of the coarseness of Goethe's splendid work cast in
bronze. It can be compared at most with such lyrical passages as _Christ
ist erstanden_ or _Ach neige, Du Schmerzenreiche, Dein Antlitz gnädig
meiner Not_, and as a whole is a mere lily of the valley by the side of
a purple hyacinth.
9 _Planta sois e caminheira_. Cf. the white-flowered 'wayfaring tree.'
16-17 This passage resembles those in the Spanish plays _Prevaricación
de Adán_ and _La Residencia del Hombre_ quoted in the _Revista de
Filología Española_, t. IV (1917), No. 1, p. 15-17.
17 Cf. _The Dream of Gerontius_, l. 280 _et seq._: 'Then was I sent from
Heaven to set right, etc.'
18 _porá grosa_, attack, criticize, gloss. (= _glosar_. Cf. the modern
'to grouse.')
35 Cf. Antonio Prestes, _Auto dos Cantarinhos_ (_Obras_, 1871 ed. p.
457): _todo Valença em chapins_. The _chapim_ was rather a high-heeled
shoe than a slipper. The reference is to the Spanish city Valencia del
Cid. Cf. Fr. Juan de la Cerda ap. R. Altamira, _Historia de España_,
III, 728: 'En una mujer ataviada se ve un mundo: mirando los chapines se
verá a Valencia'; Alonso Jerónimo de Salas Barbadillo in _El Cortesano
Descortés_ (1621) speaks of 'un presente de chapines valencianos'; and
in _La Pícara Justina_ (1912 ed. vol. I, p. 70) we have 'un chapin
valenciano.'
38 _marcante_. In the _Auto da Feira_ the Devil is similarly a
_bufarinheiro_ (pedlar) and _mercante_.
43 _a for da corte_. _For_ = _foro_ (v. Gonçalvez Viana, _A postilas_,
vol. I, p. 353).
58 Cf. Plato, _Respublica_, 365: ̃̓αδικητέον κὰι θυτέον ̓απ̀ο τ̑ων
αδικημάτων, κ.τ.λ. Vicente in his plays often inculcates the need of
something more than a formal religion.
_xiquer_. Cf. _Auto da Barca do Inferno_: _Isto hi xiquer irá_.
59-60 These two verses are in the true spirit of Goethe's
Mephistopheles.
62 _esta peçonha_. Would Vicente have written thus (cf. 66 and _Obras_,
III, 344, sermon addressed to Queen Lianor; and also Garcia de Resende,
_Miscellanea_, 1917 ed. p. 50) of the soul had there been the slightest
gossip or suspicion that his patroness, Queen Lianor, had poisoned her
husband? (See the most interesting studies in _Critica e Historia_, por
Anselmo Braamcamp Freire, vol. I. Lisbon, 1910.)
71 Cf. _The Dream of Gerontius_, l. 210-1:
Nor do I know my attitude,
Nor if I stand or lie or sit or kneel.
73 _day passada_ = _perdoai_, _dai licença_. Cf. Jorge Ferreira de
Vasconcellos, _Eufrosina_, II, 5. 1616 ed. f. 79 v.
77 In Basque _pastorales_ one of the main attributes of the devils and
the wicked is that they are never quiet on the stage. In the _Auto da
Cananea_ (1534), a play in many ways resembling the _Auto da Alma_, the
line _Como andas desosegado_ recurs, addressed by Belzebu to Satanas. It
is the 'incessant pacing to and fro' of _The Dream of Gerontius_ (l.
446). In its beauty and intensity as a whole and in many details
Cardinal Newman's _The Dream of Gerontius_ is strikingly similar to the
_Auto da Alma_. But in it the strife is o'er, the battle won, and the
sanctified soul, rising refreshed from sleep with a feeling of 'an
inexpressive lightness and sense of freedom,' passes serenely,
accompanied by its guardian angel, above the 'sullen howl' of the demons
in the middle region. Cf. _Calte por amor de Deus, leixai-me, não me
persigais_ with 'But hark! upon my sense Comes a fierce hubbub which
would make me fear _Could I be frighted_' (l. 395-7).
80 Cf. Amador Arraez, _Dialogos_, No. 1, 1604 ed. f. lv.: _S. Jeronimo
diz que é grande o reino, potencia e alçada das lagrimas...atormentam
mais aos Demonios que a pena infernal_.
84 The author of the _Vexilla regis_ hymn was Venantius Fortunatus
(530-600).
95 Cf. Antonio Feo, _Trattados Quadragesimais_ (1609), II f. 23: _assy
na Cruz como no monte Oliueto chorou porque vio vir a quem ouuera de
chorar_.
97 Cf. Gomez Manrique, _Fechas para la Semana Santa_ (ap. M. Pelayo,
_Antología_, t. III, p. 92).
108 Cf. Juan del Enzina, _Teatro_ (1893), p. 39: _Veis aqui donde vereis
Su figura figurada Del original sacada_.
116 _dais o seu a cujo he_, cf. _Triunfo do Inverno_: _Porque se devem
de dar As cousas a cujas são_; _C. Res._ I (1910), p. 64: _dar o seu a
cujo hee_.
121 Cf. Gomez Manrique, _Fechas_ (_Antolog._ t. III, p. 93):
Y vamos, vamos al huerto
Do veredes sepultado
Vuestro fijo muy prouado
De muy cruda muerte muerto.
EXHORTAÇAO DA GUERRA
PAGE 23