Volume 2 / Book 2 — CHAP. II. HISTORY OF PORTUGUESE POETRY AND ELOQUENCE FROM THE EPOCH OF THE INTRODUCTION OF THE ITALIAN STYLE, TILL TOWARDS THE END OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

Tranquil Adoption of the Italian Style.

The introduction of the Italian style into Portuguese poetry was unaccompanied by any remarkable struggle or sensation. No mention is made by writers on general literature, of the existence of a party strenuously opposed to that style in Portugal; and even the works of the Portuguese poets present few or no traces of any literary conflict on the subject. That a change which excited so violent a storm in Spain passed tranquilly in Portugal, was certainly not owing to indifference on the part of the Portuguese in matters of taste. But the Portuguese most distinguished for cultivation, were not attached to the old romance poetry by so decided a predilection as the Castilians. Besides, as has already been stated, that class had become, at an early period, acquainted with Italian poetry. Some of the Italian syllabic metres might already be regarded as vernacular in Portugal, and the spirit of Italian poetry was certainly not unknown to the Portuguese, since they had, from an early period possessed translations of some of Petrarch’s sonnets. Thus the way was already traced out for the thorough reform of the old taste, and the natural flexibility of the Portuguese character was more easily reconciled than Castilian stubbornness to that reform. When, therefore, even Spanish poets had set the judicious example of improving their national poetry, an opposition which would have appeared the mere imitation of an unreasonable party spirit was not to be expected in Portugal. Finally, the poet with whose works the new epoch in Portuguese poetry commences, so successfully seized the delicate tone by which the union of the Italian and the old Portuguese styles was to be accomplished, that the national taste found in him precisely what it required, and the innovation was accommodated to the Portuguese character under the most pleasing forms.

SAA DE MIRANDA.

The romantic Theocritus, Saa de Miranda, one of the most distinguished poets of the sixteenth century, has already been noticed in the History of Spanish Poetry.60 He shines indeed more conspicuously among the Spanish than the Portuguese poets; but in his native country he stands at the head of a poetic school. The present is, therefore, the fit place to relate the necessary particulars of his biography.61

Saa de Miranda, the descendant of a noble family, was born at Coimbra, in the year 1495. His parents destined him for the study of the law, and wished, if possible, that he might become professor of jurisprudence in his native city. To occupy the chair of a teacher of law was at that period considered an object worthy of the ambition of persons of rank; and to take an interest in the prosperity of the university of Coimbra was found to be a strong recommendation to the favour of the sovereign. Saa de Miranda had but little taste for jurisprudence, yet, for the sake of pleasing his parents, he pursued his study of legal science until he obtained the degree of doctor. He was afterwards appointed to a professorship, and is said to have distinguished himself by his lectures. But on the death of his father, Saa de Miranda immediately bade farewell to jurisprudence, and resolved to live after his own taste. We are not informed what age he had attained at this period. That his character was, however, truly poetic, is sufficiently obvious, not only from his writings, but from several anecdotes which are related of him. In mixed companies he often sat in a state of silent abstraction, without observing or being aware that he was himself observed. Tears would sometimes flow from his eyes, without any apparent cause, and he himself was so little conscious of their presence, or cared so little to conceal them, that if any one happened to address him, he would, while he suffered himself to be quietly drawn into conversation, frequently forget to dry his moistened cheeks. He cherished a particular desire to travel; and this inclination he gratified when filial duty no longer bound him to the professor’s chair. He declined the offers of King John III. who, in order to detain him would have provided for him in another way, and proceeded to Spain, where he probably acquired a more intimate knowledge of the Castilian language than he had before possessed. He next travelled to Italy, and visited the cities of Venice, Rome, Florence, Naples, and Milan, where he found sufficient opportunities for rendering himself intimately acquainted with the Italian poetry. On his return to his native country he was appointed to a place at court, and enjoyed the favour of the king. He was now accounted one of the most accomplished courtiers in Lisbon, notwithstanding the cast of melancholy which still distinguished him. His pastoral poetry, however, peaceful as its character was, involved him in a dispute with a Portuguese nobleman, who discovered in an eclogue some allusions which he applied to himself. The quarrel having become warm, the poet found it necessary to quit the court. He retired to his estate of Tapada near Ponte de Lima, in the province of Entre Minho e Douro, where he devoted himself wholly to his literary studies, and to the cultivation of rural and domestic happiness. Next to poetry, he took most interest in practical philosophy. His acquaintance with ancient literature was sufficient to enable him to enrich his books with passages from Homer, in the form of marginal notes. He also understood music, and was a performer on the violin. Notwithstanding the gentleness of his temperament, he was fond of chivalrous exercises, and took particular delight in hunting the wolf. He lived happily with his wife, though she was not handsome nor even young at the period when he married her. During his life, his poetic fame was widely spread. Several poets, who reflect honour on their native country, particularly Antonio Ferreira and Andrade Caminha, formed themselves chiefly on the model of Saa de Miranda. His two comedies so highly pleased the Infante Cardinal Henry, that they were performed in the palace of that prince, before a company of prelates, and other persons of rank. After the poet’s decease these comedies were printed by order of the cardinal. Having reached the sixty-third year of his age, he died universally admired and beloved, at Tapada, in the year 1558.

No trace of resemblance to a style produced by imitation, distinguishes the works of Saa de Miranda from the more ancient Portuguese poetry. What he learnt from the Italians was a genuine though not perfect refinement of the old Portuguese style, under more beautiful forms. He was indeed, and ever continued to be, too true a Portuguese to aim at the highest degree of Italian correctness, though it appears, from what he has himself stated, that he was most industrious in the revisal of his works.62 According to his own declaration, it also appears that he did not rely with much more confidence on systematic criticism, than on the fickle approbation of the public. That feeling under the dominion of which he always lived and moved, was, in the dernier resort, his critical rule and guide. The Italian models only directed him to the course which he himself would naturally have adopted. To use his own expression, he culled flowers with the muses, the loves, and the graces.63

Had Saa de Miranda been in a greater degree an imitator than a self-dependent poet, his sonnets would, doubtless, have been more numerous; for he was peculiarly fitted, from his knowledge of the delicacies of the Italian style, to shine in that form of composition. But his Portuguese as well as his Spanish sonnets are few in number; and those of the tender cast, like the sonnets of Boscan, and most of the Spanish writers, entirely harmonize with the old national tone. Besides indulging himself in the use of masculine rhymes, he represented the complaints of love in the old strain of despair, and contributed his share in pourtraying the endless conflict between passion and reason.64 But he particularly excelled in painting the soft enthusiasm of love,65 and his sonnets acquire a peculiar colouring from the mixture of pastoral simplicity, which he could never entirely exclude from his style of poetic representation. The reiterated allusion to the joys and sorrows of human existence, and the transitoriness of all things, is a grecian trait in the compositions of this poet.66

The romantic pastoral world was the native sphere of Saa de Miranda’s muse. The greater number and by far the most beautiful of his eight eclogues are, however, in the Spanish language, for he wrote only two in Portuguese. It can scarcely be doubted, therefore, that Saa de Miranda considered the Spanish language to be more expressive or more elegant than the Portuguese, or that for some other reason he preferred it to his mother tongue; and yet as far as a foreigner may presume to judge between the two languages, his choice ought to have been reversed, for the Portuguese seems expressly formed for romantic pastoral poetry. Perhaps Saa de Miranda thought, without being himself clearly conscious of entertaining such an idea, that it was more poetic to give dignity to the soft pastoral style, by the help of the sonorous Castilian tongue, than to suffer it to be altogether naturally expressed through the medium of the Portuguese idiom. For the character of his pastoral style was to be romantic and wholly national, to resemble the idyllic style of Theocritus only in the simplicity of rural expression, but by no means to be popular, in a prosaic sense. Whether Saa de Miranda’s shepherds and shepherdesses converse in Spanish or in Portuguese, the rural scene is always laid in Portugal. On this account the first of the two Portuguese eclogues of this modern Theocritus, is partly unintelligible to the foreigner, who possesses only a literary knowledge of the peculiarities of the rural idiom of Portugal. The poet himself observes, at the conclusion of his dedicatory stanzas to the Infante Dom Manoel, that he discourses in a new language.67 The new language here alluded to is produced by a delicate blending of the turns most remarkable for graceful simplicity in the Portuguese vernacular dialect, with a set of dignified words and phrases approximating more nearly to the latin. But the effect of the union is very imperfectly appreciated by a foreigner; and the finest charm of the expression is lost in the labour of studying a poetic language of this kind. Besides the simplicity of the composition does not exclude from Saa de Miranda’s eclogues, those mysterious allusions to the romantic manners of the age, which are so common in the writings of the old Portuguese poets. The first eclogue which he wrote in his native language, abounds in such allusions, though it is in other respects one of the least artificial of the poet’s productions in the class to which it belongs. It is a pastoral dialogue in tercets concerning love and indifference, happiness and unhappiness. Three cantigas, the first in octaves, the second in redondillas and in the Spanish language, and the third in the syllabic measure of an Italian canzone, form the poetic essence of this, simple composition. The disposition to prefer the Spanish language for imagery, and the Portuguese for reasoning, which is a striking feature in Saa de Miranda’s poetry, plainly betrays itself in this eclogue. The romantic conversation which forms the frame work to the cantigas in this eclogue, consists chiefly of general observations, which in the simple pastoral language in which they are expressed, have a very piquant character, but which are rendered scarcely intelligible to a foreigner, by the occurrence of broken popular phrases in a half ironical, half serious tone.68 To the philological obscurity of several passages is added the enigmatical expression of suppressed pain, which, however, is natural enough in the mouths of the persons to whom it is assigned. In a word this eclogue is entirely national. None but a Portuguese can justly estimate its poetic merits and demerits. To a foreigner the cantigas are decidedly the best portion.69

The second Portuguese eclogue, included in the works of Saa de Miranda, has essentially the same tone and character as the first; with this difference, that it is versified throughout in national stanzas of ten lines (decimas). Descriptions of the general instability and transitory nature of earthly things are particularly conspicuous in this as well as in several of Miranda’s other poems.70 But it would be in vain to look in these Portuguese eclogues for passages of such exquisite beauty as those which occur in the Spanish eclogues of the same author. It was only on the Castilian Parnassus that Saa de Miranda established his fame as one of the most distinguished of bucolic poets. With the exception of elegant language and versification, his Portuguese eclogues are not much superior to the cordial effusions of Ribeyro.

Saa de Miranda seems to have wished to display his native language to advantage in another department of composition, in which, however, he did not shine with equal lustre. A series of poetic epistles which in the collection of his works follow the pastoral poems, are all, except one, written in Portuguese. At the time of their appearance, no similar productions existed in Portuguese literature: but they were speedily surpassed by other writers. Nevertheless it is not merely for the circumstance of their being first attempts that they claim attention. They are distinguished from other poems of this class by the delicate and characteristic union of that peculiar style of pastoral poetry which Miranda formed for his eclogues, with a didactic diction which indicates the disciple of Horace. At the same time Horatian ideas are but thinly scattered through these epistles, and Miranda’s elegance of language is far from reaching the force and precision of the latin model. The poetry in which he endeavoured to approach the style of Horace, is of the romantic didactic class—full of sound morality, conveyed in ingenious reflections and pleasing representations—full of truth and warmth of feeling—but like all romantic poetry, it is somewhat too prolix, and its learning like the most of that which has passed through the scholastic conduits of the cloister, is not drawn from a very profound source. To interest by new views and ideas in didactic poetry, was not a task suited to a catholic poet of the sixteenth century, and least of all to one who so piously adhered to the principles of his faith as Saa de Miranda. The most interesting ideas of this poet, in so far as the value of such ideas is to be considered, must be estimated by their truth and not by their novelty; and their natural application to manners and characters within the scope of the poet’s own observation, constitutes the basis of their poetic merit. The verse chiefly employed consists of light redondilhas, running in stanzas of five lines; and thus, even in metrical form, these epistles depart considerably from the style of Horace. The two last, which, together with those written in the Spanish language, are versified in tercets, must in other respects be ranked in the same class with the rest. Miranda, according to the old custom, styles the whole series of these compositions Cartas (letters), and not Epistolas, the term which at a somewhat later period was properly, though not generally employed by Portuguese writers, to designate poems of a didactic or amusing description under the form of individual correspondence. The first is addressed to the king. After a long series of introductory compliments, full of the accustomed phrases of servile devotion to the throne, the author enters into popular reflections on the art of government, and particularly on the risk of deception, to which sovereigns of the best intentions are constantly exposed. Some of these reflections resolve very happily into practical traits of didactic description.71 Miranda must be forgiven for his useless display of erudition which was quite in the spirit of his age. In recompense, the legitimate character of the poet predominates throughout the whole composition. The succeeding epistles possess more of the light ironical tone of Horace. They are addressed to friends and acquaintances. They relate to the advantages of rural life;—the equivocal nature of city manners and amusements;—the mischievous effects of luxury in Portugal since the introduction of the treasures of India;—the value of literary occupation;—and similar subjects, which an author, who had lived in the gay world, and afterwards retired to solitude, might be expected to discuss in pleasing verse. Thus from the nature of their subjects Miranda’s epistles may also be ranked among the literary pictures of manners in the sixteenth century. The philanthropic and patriotic poet particularly laments the insatiable spirit of trade which prevailed in his native country. He declares his opinion that danger was not to be apprehended from the extended love of the arts and sciences, but from the “perfumes of the Indian spices,” which had the melancholy effect of enervating the old national character.72

Saa de Miranda also contributed to improve the sacred poetry of his native country. His two hymns to the Holy Virgin were the first compositions in Portuguese literature which were executed entirely in the style of the Italian canzone. They cannot, however, be regarded as lyric master pieces any more than the spiritual canzoni of the Italians. Had a catholic poet been able to guard himself against romantic prolixity in such hymns, still must his fancy, on any attempt to elevate it to the poetic spirit of the ode, have again been subdued by the humiliating idea of the guilt and unworthiness of man; and the more truly Christian the song of praise might be, the more would it partake of the litany character. Saa de Miranda cannot be regarded as a model for the composition of hymns. But in his two spiritual Canções he extended the sphere of Portuguese lyric poetry by the noble diction which he introduced into them.73 In the second Cançaõ he has, among other faults, indulged in a play on words, than which no verbal conceit could be more antipoetic; for he finds a wonderful analogy of contradiction between the fall of womankind and the merits of the Holy Virgin, in the name Eve and the word Ave with which the angelical salutation commences.74 But these remains of monkish quibbling are to be expected in spiritual, and particularly in catholic spiritual poems of the sixteenth century.

In the series of Saa de Miranda’s lyric poems, there are several popular songs written in some of the more ancient forms of Portuguese poetry, which are, however, dignified by purity of language and accuracy of expression and versification. These songs are chiefly of the style called cantigas, or poetic mottos, with variation (voltas) which are shorter than the Spanish glossas. They repeat the idea of the motto differently turned or applied, but its text is not literally interwoven with the variations; and this is precisely the difference of form which distinguishes the older Portuguese cantigas from the Spanish villancicos. To these lyric compositions is added a beautiful elegy in tercets, in which Miranda with manly dignity bewails the death of his beloved son who accompanied King Sebastian to Africa, and who fell in the same battle in which that monarch lost his life.75

With Saa de Miranda the literary history of the Portuguese drama likewise commences. Any attempts at dramatic composition which may have been previously made in the Portuguese language, obtained no literary celebrity, and are now forgotten. That in the time of Saa de Miranda, theatres existed in Lisbon, in which dramas, similar to those in the Spanish language were performed, is a fact sufficiently evident from several allusions in Miranda’s two comedies, as well as from the works of Gil Vicente, which will soon claim particular notice. But no national taste for any particular species of drama was then formed in Portugal. The Castilian style could not give the tone to the Portuguese; for at the period in question, which was half a century previous to the birth of Lope de Vega, the Spanish drama was still in its infancy and wavering amidst heterogeneous forms. Thus the Portuguese writers who turned their attention to dramatic poetry, were not, in their choice of styles and forms, restrained by any capricious conditions demanded by the public. These circumstances afforded an opportunity for commencing, without any literary warfare, the improvement of the Portuguese drama by the works of two poets, who like Saa de Miranda and Gil Vicente trod in very different paths. Miranda wrote two comedies in prose. They are dramas of character in the style of Plautus and Terence:—one is entitled Os Estrangeiros (the Foreigners); the other is called Os Vilhalpandos, from two Spanish soldiers, who had both adopted the name Vilhalpando, which, at that period, was probably celebrated in the military world. It has already been mentioned that the Infante Cardinal Henry was particularly pleased with these two dramas, that he permitted them to be performed at his court, and that he gave orders for having them printed. How they happened to obtain these honours is explained partly by their own intrinsic merits and partly by contingent and temporary circumstances. At the papal court, in the beginning of the sixteenth century, a favourable reception had been given to the early Italian comedies in prose, and in particular to Bibiena’s Calandra.76 Miranda’s taste had been formed in Italy, and what pleased a pope might well afford entertainment to a cardinal. Miranda, as a dramatic poet, retraced the footsteps of Bibiena and Ariosto; and Cardinal Henry of Portugal followed the example of Leo X. It is, however, more than probable that the Portuguese public was not induced by such high patronage to manifest particular regard for this class of dramatic entertainments, any more than the Italian public had been, by the marks of distinction bestowed on the plays of Bibiena and Ariosto.

The two comedies of Miranda are, nevertheless, even at the present day, worthy the attention of the critic. They are the first compositions of their kind in Portuguese literature; and in none of the essentials of the dramatic art are they surpassed by the subsequent productions for which they have served as models. Both dramas exhibit highly natural, though not ingenious delineations of character, unaffected diction, and a pleasing and rapid flow of dialogue; and though in their composition they really possess but little dramatic merit, still it is evident that a dramatic spirit has governed their execution.77 These comedies are indeed imbued throughout with the delicate and refined spirit of a poet, whose aversion from pedantry was equal to his feeling of delicacy and love of nature. Miranda, as a dramatist, endeavoured to draw common characters from the life, after the manner of Plautus and Terence, of whom he avowed himself an imitator,78 but he felt the necessity of elevating, by some degree of refinement, the vulgar phraseology which the characters he chose to pourtray actually employed in common life. For this purpose he availed himself of the interesting popular style in which he acquired such extraordinary facility as an idyllic poet. Had the poetic spirit of this popular style shone as conspicuously in his comedies as in his pastoral poems, the former, like the latter, would have been novel and single in their kind. But Saa de Miranda was born a pastoral poet, and only made himself a dramatist by imitation. If he had been penetrated with the spirit of the comic dramatists of Rome, as he was with that of the father of the Greek bucolic, he would have endeavoured to become a Portuguese Plautus or Terence in the same manner as he became a Portuguese Theocritus. He would not then have transplanted foreign manners to the comic stage of his native land. Still less would he have imitated his models in the manner of Bibiena; a manner which even in Italy had been relinquished by Ariosto, who, as a dramatist, struck into the same bypath, and missed the goal. Miranda then did not, strictly speaking, follow Plautus and Terence; but Bibiena and Ariosto, in their character of imitators of those ancient poets, were his guides in the region of dramatic poetry, where the spirit of modern times demanded more than he was capable of supplying. Besides, why did this poet, who was a master in the art of versification, write his dramas in prose? Wishing to adhere throughout to the nature of prose, he makes the principal persons of his dramas explain, chiefly in soliloquies, their own characters, with a garrulity, which though certainly natural, is nevertheless low and tedious; and the popular morality which floats in this prolix stream of vulgar phraseology affords no pleasurable compensation to the auditor or reader.79 Faithful to his models, Miranda has not, in either of his two comedies, laid the scene of action in his native country, where he might have dramatized national customs; the events which he describes are supposed to take place in Italy, and the manners, and in general the characters which he paints, are Italian. In the selection of those characters, he however follows Plautus and Terence, without paying any apparent regard to the distinction between different ages, by which the choice of the dramatic poet ought to be directed. Of the principal characters there is only one perfectly modern in the Estrangeiros, and in like manner only one of the same description appears in the Vilhalpandos. The first is a pedantic doctor named Juris; the second is a lady named Fausta, a hypocrite, surrounded by a group of pretended devotees. The other characters in Miranda’s two dramas, besides valets and waiting maids, are some old men, ostentatious soldiers, and enamoured youths, a grumbling tutor, (ayo,) two or three merchants, a parasite, (truhaõ,) a match-maker, (casamenteiro), and others of a still baser description, which the author seems to have thought could not be dispensed with in any imitation of the ancient drama. In the Vilhalpandos the author has also incidentally introduced the modern characters of a hermit and a French page. No remarkable intricacy of events is produced by these characters being brought in contact with each other; for Saa de Miranda was not formed to be a writer of dramas of intrigue. His scenes are strung together, rather than drawn out of each other. It is not worth while more minutely to analyze the composition of these two dramas. No highly comic scenes occur in either of them. But their general tone is spirited; and, if well performed, they doubtless would, in the age in which they were produced, interest an audience disposed to be pleased with the comic delineation of character; for most of the scenes are of a kind which might enable a player to supply by good acting that comic force in which they are deficient. Thus it happened that though the Portuguese public took no particular interest in dramas of this class, no party was formed, as in Italy, avowedly hostile to them. The bitterest portion of the satire with which Miranda invigorates, not the comic spirit, but the morality of his dramas, is directed against the Italian and particularly the Romish priesthood, to whose scandalous mode of life, the basest characters are made, as the most proper witnesses in such a case, to bear ample testimony. It appears, therefore, that at this time satire might be openly and fearlessly directed against the clergy, and that its application in that way was not displeasing to the heads of the Portuguese church; for had it been otherwise, so pious a writer as Saa de Miranda would scarcely have ventured to indulge in such representations even if he could have made them in secret.

Having taken a general view of the services which this memorable writer rendered to Portuguese poetry, it can scarcely be necessary to state that he was the first classic poet of his nation; but if it be wished to make a more rigid application of this title and to confer it only on writers, whose poetic cultivation, according to the classic models of the ancients, leaves nothing farther to be desired, it were better to abstain altogether from employing it in the history of modern poetry. Miranda presented to his countrymen the first example of the manner in which poetic genius aspiring to the highest pinnacle of art, ought to study the classic poets of antiquity, in order to acquire clearness of poetic perception, solid judgment in invention and precision, elegance and ingenious simplicity in composition and diction, without renouncing his individual character and the genius of his age and nation.80

The account of the classic school which Saa de Miranda founded in Portuguese poetry, must be deferred until historical justice be rendered to the genius of a less cultivated poet, who flourished at the same period with Saa de Miranda, but who chose for himself a totally different path on the Portuguese Parnassus.

GIL VICENTE.

Writers on literature have not recorded the date of the birth of Gil Vicente, who is styled the Portuguese Plautus.81 There is reason to suppose that at the latest he was born within twenty years of the close of the fifteenth century. It is known that he belonged to a family of rank, and that he studied the law in compliance with the wish of his family. But it appears that he speedily relinquished his juridical studies and devoted himself wholly to the dramatic art. It is not recorded whether or not he was regularly pensioned as a writer to the court; but he was most indefatigable in furnishing the royal family and the public with dramatic entertainments suited to the taste of the age. He constantly resided at court, where his poetic talents were held in permanent requisition for the celebration of spiritual as well as temporal festivals; and no dramatic writer in Europe was more admired and esteemed than Gil Vicente. His first productions were performed with approbation at court in the reign of Emanuel the Great; but his reputation acquired additional brilliancy in the reign of John III. a monarch who, as has already been mentioned, did not scruple in his younger years to perform characters in the dramas of this favourite author. Vicente seems also to have possessed all the requisite qualifications for a theatrical manager. We are not informed whether he was himself an actor; but he was the tutor of the most distinguished actress of his age, namely, his daughter Paula, maid of honour to the Infanta Maria, a poetess, an amateur performer on several instruments, and, as it appears, celebrated for every thing except beauty. Erasmus is said to have learned Portuguese for the express purpose of reading the comedies of Vicente in the original. There are no notices extant by which farther insight into the personal character of this poet could be obtained. He died in the year 1557 at Evora, and, as there is reason to believe, at an advanced age. Five years after his death, his son Luis Vicente edited a complete collection of his works, or at least of all that had been preserved in manuscript.82

Gil Vicente would have been the Portuguese Lope de Vega, if not something even superior, had he been born half a century later, and had he been as much indebted to his age as the Spanish dramatist was to that in which he flourished. But no one was less calculated than Gil Vicente to become an improver of taste; and indeed he was far from being ambitious of earning that honourable title. Had not the favour of the public been continued to him and his dramas even after the middle of the sixteenth century, when the school of Saa de Miranda had risen and acquired the ascendancy in the polite world, he might with propriety be ranked as the last in the series of the Portuguese poets of the fifteenth century. His diction, as well as his whole poetic style, belongs to that age, and to the latest period of his life he continued faithful to the old national manner. In the conflict with the new style introduced by Saa de Miranda’s school, Gil Vicente appeared as the representative of the yet enduring national taste, which even at court, where the adherents of the new party were most honourably distinguished, preserved a co-equal authority with that party. That each party should under such circumstances maintain its credit is not a little remarkable. Perhaps they became accommodated to each other merely because the Portuguese had no relish for literary feuds. It may be presumed that each party therefore felt itself secure, and, content with its own security, took no notice of the other.

Here we again arrive at the point, at which the historian of the cultivation of the Portuguese and Spanish drama finds a stumbling-block in the way of his enquiries; for the materials necessary to the right prosecution of his labour are either entirely wanting or involved in contradiction. In the history of the Spanish theatre it has already been stated how little positive knowledge the Spaniards possessed even in the age of Cervantes and Lope de Vega, respecting the early formation of their national comedy.83 To Torres Naharro, so strangely overlooked by Cervantes, the honour of being the real father of the Spanish comedy, must, on every just principle of historical criticism, be conceded. But Gil Vicente was a contemporary of Torres Naharro; and the dramatic compositions of the Portuguese poet, so far approximate to the ruder forms of the Spanish comedy, as to entitle Portuguese writers to claim for their own country the honour of the invention of that comedy. Spanish Autos either did not exist in the beginning of the sixteenth century, or if they did, they have disappeared from the domain of literature. A whole series of Autos by Gil Vicente are, however, extant; and several were written within the first ten years of the sixteenth century. Some are entirely in the Spanish language; others are half in Portuguese and half in Spanish, but all present, in their radical features, the form and character of the Spanish spiritual comedy. Was Gil Vicente then the first writer who exhibited a kind of poetic design in dramatic entertainments for the celebration of christian festivals, and thus raised to literary consideration a style of composition which had previously been degraded by monks and buffoons? Or are the corresponding works of contemporary Spanish writers lost in oblivion? Was Gil Vicente an imitator of Torres Naharro, or did the latter copy from the former?

The number of dramas which Gil Vicente has bequeathed to posterity is considerable, though compared with the fertility of some of the Spanish poets, by no means extraordinary. They are arranged in classes either by himself, or, as is more probable, by his son, by whom they were published; and in taking a critical view of them this classification is very convenient. At the commencement appear the Autos or spiritual dramas; next follow some anomalous works, which are oddly enough, in preference to all others, styled comedies; these are succeeded by the tragi-comedies; and last of all come the Farsas. Various small poems in the Spanish and Portuguese languages form an appendix to the collection. These works display a true poetic spirit, which, however, accommodated itself entirely to the age of the poet, and which disdained all cultivation. The dramatic genius of Gil Vicente is equally manifest from his power of invention, and from the natural turn and facility of his imitative talent. Even the rudest of these dramas is tinged with a certain degree of poetic feeling. Scenes in stanzas and redondilhas which, though harmonious, are of antiquated construction, succeed each other with wonderful truth and simplicity. But there appears in these compositions no perception of what may be properly called the perfection of dramatic poetry; and no trace of an endeavour to attain classic excellence, calls to mind the spirit of the sixteenth century. Gil Vicente’s language, too, is altogether in the old and uncultivated style.

The Autos, or spiritual dramas, contained in the collected works of this poet, are sixteen in number. They cannot properly be called Corpus Christi pieces, or Autos Sacramentales; for most of them were written to be performed on Christmas night, in celebration of that festival, either before the court at Lisbon, or at royal residences in the country, and they perfectly correspond with the object for which they were intended. Pastoral poetry forms the basis of the whole, even of those which, taking a totally different turn from the rest, become alternately didactic and allegoric. By this characteristic feature they are distinguished from most of the Autos of Spanish or posterior origin. Accident favoured the national poetic genius of the Portuguese in the creation of the spiritual pastoral drama. Gil Vicente while yet a youth and a tyro in the poetic art, surprised King Emanuel and the Queen on the birth of the Infante, afterwards King John III. by the production of a little pastoral drama, which appears better adapted for celebrating the festival of Christmas than the birth of a hereditary prince, but which was, perhaps, on that very account the more flattering to the royal family. This pastoral drama is, in consequence of the distinction it thus obtained, placed before Vicente’s Autos, and a notice by the son of the poet explains the reason why that precedence is assigned to it. The little piece is written in the Spanish language. Vicente’s son observes in his notice, that it was received with particular favour because it was something new in Portugal.84 It is therefore probable that at this period Gil Vicente, as yet unconscious of his own talent, only followed in the footsteps of the venerable Juan del Enzina.85 Having at the request of the royal family altered his piece in such a way as to render it more suitable to representation at Christmas, he was thus accidentally directed into the path which naturally led to the union of dramatic poetry with christian mysteries, and which he afterwards steadily explored. Year after year with increasing taste and fancy he continued to write Christmas pieces, which at last assumed a more enlarged form. Among the personages introduced in these dramas there are always some of the pastoral class, intended to represent directly, and also in a certain degree allegorically, the shepherds at the manger of Bethlehem. But the inventive poet soon advanced a step further. He composed dramas in the same style for the celebration of other religious festivals, without any admixture of pastoral poetry. Among his Autos, however, there is one in celebration of the festival of Corpus Christi, which was one of his earliest productions. The notice annexed to it states that it was performed in the year 1504. It is founded on a simple incident in the life of St. Martin, and possesses scarcely any thing of the character of the later spiritual dramas, or Autos Sacramentales, properly so called. But a far greater display of fancy and theatrical splendour, was the result of Gil Vicente’s subsequent endeavours to dramatize the mysteries of the catholic faith. It would appear that spiritual dramas of this class, in which so much was to be seen and admired, had never before been produced either on the Portuguese or the Spanish stage. It cannot, therefore, be doubted, that Gil Vicente’s Autos had their effect on the Spanish dramatists of the sixteenth century; and that if they were not imitated as models, they served at least as examples for emulation.

The invention and the execution of Gil Vicente’s Autos present an equal degree of rudeness. The least artificial are also those in which the most decided traits of national character appear. The shepherds and shepherdesses who are introduced into these Autos are Portuguese and Spanish both in their names and manners. Their simple phrases and turns of language are similar to those employed by the characters in Saa de Miranda’s eclogues, except that their discourse is more negligent and occasionally more coarse. In combining the appearance of angels, the devil, the holy virgin and allegorical characters, with popular scenes, an effect perfectly consistent with the ideas of the audience was produced; for, according to the catholic doctrine, the miracles with which Christianity commenced are continued without intermission; through the mysteries of faith, the connection between the terrestrial, celestial and infernal worlds is declared; and by allegory that connection is rendered perceptible. The critic would therefore judge very unfairly, were he to regard as proofs of bad taste the consequences which a poet naturally entails on himself in writing according to the spirit of his religion. Making allowance, however, for that spirit, the rudeness of Gil Vicente’s Autos must be acknowledged even by him who measuring them by the rule of critical judgment, is perfectly disposed to view every system of religion only on its poetic side. For instance in one of the simplest of these Autos some shepherds who discourse in Spanish, enter a chapel, which is decorated with all the apparatus necessary for the celebration of the festival of Christmas. The shepherds cannot sufficiently express their rustic admiration of the pomp exhibited in the chapel. Faith (La Fè) enters as an allegorical character. She speaks Portuguese, and after announcing herself to the shepherds as true Faith, she explains to them the nature of faith, and enters into an historical relation of the mysteries of the incarnation.86 This is the whole subject of the piece. Another Auto in which the poet’s fancy has taken a wider range, presents scenes of a more varied nature. Mercury enters as an allegorical character, and as the representative of the planet which bears his name. He explains the theory of the planetary system and the Zodiac, and cites astronomical facts from Regiomontanus, in a long series of stanzas in the old national style. A Seraph then appears who is sent down from heaven by God in compliance with the prayers of Time. The Seraph, in the quality of a herald, proclaims a large yearly fair in honour of the Holy Virgin, and invites customers to it.87 A Devil next makes his appearance with a little stall which he carries before him. He gets into a dispute with Time and the Seraph, and asserts that among men such as they are, he shall be sure to find purchasers for his wares.88 He therefore leaves to every customer his free choice. Mercury then summons eternal Rome as the representative of the church. She appears, and offers for sale peace of mind, as the most precious of her merchandize. The Devil remonstrates; and Rome retires. Two Portuguese peasants now appear in the market. One is very anxious to sell his wife, and observes that if he cannot sell her, he will give her away for nothing, as she is a wicked spendthrift. Amidst this kind of conversation a party of peasant women enter, one of whom, with considerable comic warmth, vents bitter complaints against her husband.89 The man who has already been inveighing against his wife immediately recognizes her, and says:—“that is my slippery helpmate.”90 During this succession of comic scenes the action does not advance. The Devil at last opens his little stall and displays his stock of goods to the female peasants; but one of them who is the most pious of the party seems to suspect that all is not quite right with regard to the merchandize, and she exclaims: “Jesus! Jesus! True God and man!” The Devil immediately takes to flight, and does not re-appear; but the Seraph again comes forward and mingles with the rustic groupes. The throng continues to increase; other countrywomen with baskets on their heads arrive; and the market is stored with vegetables, poultry and other articles of rural produce. The Seraph offers virtues for sale; but they find no purchasers. The peasant girls observe that in their village money is more sought after than virtue, when a young man wants a wife. One of the party, however, says, that she wished to come to the market because it happened to fall on the festival of the mother of God; and because the Virgin does not sell her gifts of grace (as graças); but she distributes them gratis (de graça). This observation crowns the theological morality of the piece, which terminates with a hymn of praise, in the popular style, in honour of the Holy Virgin.

These specimens will afford an adequate idea of the spirit and style of Gil Vicente’s Autos. His largest work of this class may, however, be referred to, in proof of the little attention he bestowed on dramatic plan in the composition of his spiritual comedies. It purports to be “A Summary of the History of God.” After the prologue, which is spoken by an Angel, Sir Lucifer (Senhor Lucifer,) enters, attended by a numerous retinue of devils. Belial is president of his court of justice (meirinho de corte), and Satan gentleman of his privy council, (fidalgo do conselho). After this privy counsellor has performed his part in the temptation of Adam and Eve in Paradise, the whole details of which are represented on the stage, Lucifer confers on him the dignities of duke and captain of the kingdoms of the world.91 Next succeeds a series of scenes which summarily represent the history of the christian redemption. The World accompanied by Time and angels enters as a king. The representation of the fall of man is followed by the history of Abel, by whom a beautiful and simple hymn is sung.92 The next scenes exhibit the histories of Abraham, Job, and David; and thus the Auto proceeds through the incidents of the old and new testaments until the ascension of Christ, which is represented on the stage amidst an accompaniment of drums and trumpets.

On comparing the Autos of Gil Vicente with those of Calderon, the difference appears not much less considerable than that which exists between the works of Hans Sachs and Shakespeare. But the graceful simplicity with which many of the scenes of these spiritual dramas are executed, raises the Portuguese poet infinitely above the poetic shoe-maker of Nuremberg.

The most unimportant of the dramatic works of Gil Vicente are those which the poet and his son have called comedies. One is a dramatized novel, in which a young lady, whom her lover, a priest, has seduced, appears on the stage in child-bed, and after long lamentations and discussions is actually delivered of a daughter. In the second half of the piece the child whose birth is thus announced has attained the age of womanhood, and is in her turn introduced as a lady loving and beloved. The action, however, is not destitute of interest. In the first half of the drama, a Witch, who summons the Devil on the stage, assists the unfortunate lady in child-bed, and afterwards, five laundresses (lavandeiras) make their appearance. Nevertheless, amidst much extravagance and absurdity, the author has represented several scenes of domestic life, in a style equally pleasing and natural. No example of the intrigue of the Spanish theatre is to be found in this piece, but there is introduced a fool (parvo), or more properly a waggish clown, a character which appears to be the rude prototype of the Spanish gracioso. Pleasing songs in the Spanish language are interspersed through the dialogue. The young girl who was born at the commencement of the piece takes leave of the public in the character of a princess. Several of Gil Vicente’s other works, which are styled comedies, are dramatized novels, similar to that just described. One which is entitled, A Floresta de Enganos, (the Forest or Gardens of Deception),93 is merely a dramatized garland of sprightly fancies enriched with allegorical and mythological ornaments. At the head of the dramatis personæ appears the burlesque character of a philosopher, who, because he has reproved some wicked men for their misconduct, is, by way of punishment, tied to a fool (parvo) with whom he is thus compelled to associate. He regards this punishment as the severest torture that could be inflicted on a philosopher. He speaks Spanish, and the replies of the fool are more remarkable for their rudeness than for their wit.94

Gil Vicente’s tragi-comedies may be regarded as rough outlines of that kind of drama which subsequently formed a variety of the heroic comedies95 of the Spanish stage. They are not historical dramas, but festival pieces adorned with a certain pomp of allegory, mythology, magic, &c. and occasionally interspersed with pathetic scenes. They were performed before the court on festivals or particular occasions, which are specified. One of these dramas, entitled, Amadis de Gaula, and founded on some of the incidents in the celebrated romance of the same name, was, in spite of its inoffensive character, forbidden to be performed in Spain in the reign of Philip II. The cause of this prohibition probably was, that the disguise of Amadis, as a pilgrim, was deemed a profanation of the sacred habit. This piece which is written in the Spanish language, is destitute of all merit of invention. Others of these dramas exhibit more traces of the poet’s fancy; but in none is there the foundation of a genuine dramatic plot. One entitled, Exhortaçaõ de Guerra, (Exhortation to War), was doubtless a favourite with the court. A pious magician appears who has learned necromancy in a sybil’s cave. By powerful spells he summons to his presence some subject demons, whom he suffers to revile him in the coarsest language.96 He however obliges them to conjure up the spirits of Polyxena, Penthesilea, Achilles, Scipio, and other celebrated characters of antiquity. These spirits appear in succession, and address fine compliments to the royal family. In another tragi-comedy Providence is introduced as a Princess. But the most varied of all is Triumpho do Invierno, (Winter’s Triumph), in two parts. Besides a multitude of characters, among which an allegorical personification of Winter is one of the most conspicuous, Gil Vicente exhibited to his audience a view of the open sea, agitated by a storm during the most inclement season of the year. The noise and confusion among the ships in distress, and the oaths and prayers of the Portuguese sailors expressed in rhymes and redondilhas, would naturally be gratifying to a public who at the period when the piece was written, took particular interest in maritime affairs.97 Another of these tragi-comedies is also a satire.

Gil Vicente was destined by nature to be a comic poet. His farças (farces) are by far his best productions; and to them he was indebted for the chief portion of his fame, as well as for the honourable but ill-chosen surname which some critics have applied to him. If the literary relationship between two dramatic writers were to be decided by the comic strength of their works, then indeed Gil Vicente might be truly termed a second Plautus. But neither in respect to their form nor their spirit can Vicente’s farces be ranked in the same class with the regular comedies of Plautus. Nevertheless the name of farces, was not given to those comic dramas, on account of their irregularity or their burlesque style. At the rise of the modern theatre in Spain and Portugal all dramas were denominated farces,98 and that the name has been continued to be applied to Vicente’s comedies, is an accident arising merely from the want of a better term of classification. It is in like manner the result of accident, that in France, England and Germany, the same term is still employed to distinguish precisely that species of drama to which Gil Vicente’s farces belong. These pieces are equally burlesque in their design and execution. They may, in a certain sense, be styled dramas of character; for Vicente attached great importance to the burlesque representation of some characters which he sketched from life. But he never thought of founding his comic interest on plot and intrigue; and in the degree of cultivation to which he had attained, and above which he never rose, he was incapable of designing and executing, on a comprehensive scale, a dramatic picture of character with true delicacy of outline, and still less with interesting truth of colouring. His farces, like his other dramas, have no regular plot for their ground-work. They are dramatic conceptions of scenes of real life, rapidly sketched by a glowing fancy, with genuine comic feeling, with a certain poetic keeping, even when derived from the commonest nature, and worked up by more or less of plastic talent, into some form, but without any regard to correctness, and altogether executed as a mere sportive task. In these farces the language and metrical form are the same as in Gil Vicente’s other dramas. The alternation of the Portuguese and Castilian idioms is seldom governed by any other rule than the caprice of the poet. Upon the whole Gil Vicente’s farces bear much resemblance to the Entremeses which subsequently became favourite entertainments on the Spanish stage; like them they are not divided either into acts or scenes.

Among the eleven dramas, which in the collected works of Gil Vicente are entitled farces, there are two festival pieces, in the popular style, which might with equal propriety have been ranged in one of the preceding classes. The first piece is truly a farce. Two miserable servants, the one a Portuguese, the other a Spaniard, who are almost starving in the service of two coxcombs, meet together in the street at midnight, and each in his respective language complains of his sad fate. The Portuguese describes his master as an enamoured enthusiast, who employs himself day and night in writing silly verses, and in singing them to his own wretched music, but who never appears to think of eating and drinking.99 This romantic gentleman (escudeiro) soon makes his appearance with one of his own song books in his hand. Before he begins to sing a song, he reads aloud its title, and names himself as the author. When he has finished it he commences a new song, first pronouncing very formally the words, “Another by the same,” in the style of the old Cancioneiros. He proceeds to sing under the window of his mistress Isabella, a miller’s coquetish daughter, where his music is accompanied by the barking of dogs and the mewing of cats. The blending of these songs, which though insipid, possess something of the tender and melancholy character of the old cantigas, with the conversation of the lover and his servant,—with the whisperings of the serenaded Isabella from her lattice window,—and with the rage of the gallant at the dogs and cats, which mortify him by the interruption of his singing, was doubtless calculated to operate very powerfully on the risibility of the audience, though much of the ludicrous effect of the scene must now be supplied by the imagination of the reader.100 The mother of Isabella at length appears, with a lantern in her hand, endeavouring to learn what is the cause of the uproar. Here a change of scene commences with the lamentations of the old woman in a burlesque caricature style.101 She enters into a dispute first with her coquetish daughter, who has expressed herself pleased with the serenade, and then with the gallant, who at length sings a farewell stanza, and departs. But this collection of songs and dialogues is as far from having any real dramatic object as are the other farces of Vicente, in which he sometimes introduces Witches,—at that period objects of particular interest with the public,—performing incantations in concert with the Devil; sometimes Frenchmen and Italians who speak a kind of broken Portuguese, perhaps often enough heard on the quays of Lisbon. In another of these lively entertaining dramas, an enamoured old man is the principal character.

Of all these farces, however, that entitled Inez Pereira, is distinguished by the most remarkable plot and the greatest stretch of dramatic talent. The history of this piece serves to throw some light on the relation in which Gil Vicente stood with respect to the Portuguese public. Some persons, it appears, had expressed doubts of his title to the authorship of the admired farces attributed to him, and in order to maintain the reputation of his talent, he was desirous that a pointed theme should be prescribed to him as a ground-work for dramatic composition. It was accordingly suggested that he would find a fit subject in the Portuguese proverb: “I prefer an ass that carries me, to a horse that throws me.”102 For the comic representation of this proverb, Vicente chose the prettily conceived story of a young girl, who rejects the matrimonial offer of a wealthy simpleton, because she is resolved to marry none but a man of superior understanding and talents. Inez at length finds a man after her own heart. She gives him her hand, but soon grows very unhappy, because she finds that with such a husband, his will must always be her law. She now sincerely repents the coyness with which she had listened to the proposals of her less gifted lover. Death soon interposes in her favour, and she becomes a widow. Her former suitor offers himself again, and Inez triumphs in the possession of a husband whom she finds it easy to manage. This happily chosen fable is worked up with more care than Vicente seems to have bestowed on his other farces. Had this poet been placed in circumstances similar to those which a hundred and fifty years later operated in favour of Moliere, Inez Pereira would in all probability have been made one of the best comic pieces of character in the dramatic literature of modern times. But in this drama Gil Vicente has contented himself with grouping his characters in a brilliant but confused throng, stringing his scenes together like a wreath of roses, exhibiting events, between which, days, weeks, and months intervene, in immediate succession, like pictures in a rareeshow; and thus upon the whole he has made little approximation towards the point of cultivated taste.103 But this farce supplies illustrations of the manners of the age, which could not easily be obtained from any other source.—We learn from it that the jews in Lisbon were then particularly celebrated as marriage brokers (casamenteiros) and that they carried on this employment as an ordinary branch of traffic. One of the suitors is introduced by some jews of this profession to Inez Pereira.

On reverting from the dramas of Gil Vicente to the poetic works of the classic writers, at whose head Saa de Miranda stands, the reader will find himself transported to a totally different world. But this transition belongs to the chronological order of the subject.

FERREIRA.

Antonio Ferreira, surnamed the Portuguese Horace, was born at Lisbon in the year 1528. His parents, who belonged to the first class of nobility, destined him for a statesman or public functionary. He obtained the degree of Doctor at the University of Coimbra, where he studied the civil law. He took however less interest in his jurisprudential studies than in the lectures of a professor of ancient literature, named Diogo de Tieve, who at that time possessed great celebrity, and for whom after quitting the university he continued to entertain a strong affection and regard. While Ferreira was pursuing his studies at Coimbra, the works of Horace, and other poets of antiquity, produced on him an impression totally different from that which was experienced by the other students, who directed their attention to ancient literature. Among the latter it was a fashion to write verses in latin, and to look with disdain on the Portuguese language; but Ferreira, while yet a youth, proved himself an enthusiastic lover of his mother tongue. He resolved not to write a line in any foreign language, not even in Spanish; and he faithfully kept his determination. In his beautiful introductory or dedicatory stanza, to readers after his own taste (a os bons engenhos) he intimates that his poems shall belong “to those readers to whose pure bosoms he may commit them. For himself he will be content with the glory of having it said that he loved his native land and his countrymen.”104 But the patriotic spirit which thus glowed in the soul of Ferreira was combined, in a manner then altogether uncommon, with a similar enthusiasm for the ancient classics, and particularly for the poetry of Horace. The example of Saa de Miranda had also its influence in forming his taste; and he closely studied the Italian poets from whom he learned to combine classic correctness of ideas and language, on the model of the ancients, with a natural poetic style, suited to the age in which he lived. The beautiful structure of Italian verse so charmed him, that he thought no other metres possessed sufficient dignity to entitle them to be introduced into Portuguese poetry. He accordingly never composed in redondilhas, and, generally speaking, in no verse in the old national style. The whole object of his ambition was to be a classical poet, and in that character to give to Portuguese poetry a new, and according to his taste, a more noble diction. Inspired with the hope of accomplishing this purpose, he laboured with so much assiduity, that before he left the university he had composed the greater portion of the hundred and thirteen sonnets which are contained in the collection of his poems. Whether the “Lady of his Thoughts,” who supplies in these sonnets the place of Petrarch’s Laura, was no imaginary character, is uncertain. It cannot, however, be doubted, that in his fifth elegy the poet alludes to a real and beloved Manila, who had been snatched from him by death. Ferreira was twenty-nine years of age when he published the first collection of his poetic works. He had previously been engaged in delivering academic lectures, probably on jurisprudence, in the university of Coimbra. In his poetic pursuits, he was joined by several young men of similar talent, particularly Andrade Caminha, Jeronymo Cortereal, and Diogo Bernardes, who, together with other poets of that age, formed a circle of disciples and admirers of Saa de Miranda. But he grew tired of his university studies, and visited the court where he soon acquired distinction. He obtained the high office of desembargador de camara de supplicaçaõ (judge of the council of grace), and he was likewise appointed a fidalgo da casa real (gentleman of the royal household). For the young poets of Portugal he now became an oracle of criticism; and a most brilliant prospect had opened itself to him, when in the year 1569, and at the age of forty-one, he died of the plague which was supposed to be brought to Lisbon from the Levant. A monument was erected to his memory in the church where he was buried; but the stone is now much defaced.105

Though not a poet of the first rank, Ferreira has, as a classical poet, been surpassed by no other in Portuguese literature, and has in that respect also had but few equals in the literature of Spain. His fancy was circumscribed, and to originality he seems to have put forth no pretension; but the sound taste which he manifested from the commencement of his poetic cultivation, was a thing totally new in Portugal at that period. Ferreira was by no means a blind or pedantic imitator of the ancients and the Italians. He was, however, animated by an enthusiastic feeling for every thing truly exemplary in the writings of the foreign poets whom he chose for prototypes; his vigorous understanding, cherished with particular predilection the idea of reforming the national Portuguese poetry after such models; and patriotic zeal prompted him to complete what poetic feeling and sound judgment had combined to suggest. Correctness of ideas as well as of language was to him the first requisite of all poetic beauty. He wished to banish from the poetry of his native land those traces of orientalism which it still retained. It was not less his study to avoid the eccentric than the common. He attached more importance to noble than to extraordinary ideas. But to poetic energy, precision and plenitude of picturesque expression, or what may be termed the poetry of language, his attention was chiefly directed. This quality he cultivated with a degree of talent and judgment, which would have imparted to his style Horatian perfection, were it not for the philosophic laconism peculiar to the diction of Horace, and which no modern poet, Klopstock alone excepted, has been able to approach. Ferreira was the first Portuguese writer who manifested a particular interest in the poetic dignity of his native tongue. He was the first who practically proved that the soft toned accentuation and simple popular idiom of that language were not inconsistent either with the energetic expression of didactic poetry, or the sonorous rhythm of the loftier styles. In this respect he essentially departed from the manner of Saa de Miranda; and thus his poetry lost the national colouring by which that of his predecessor is peculiarly distinguished. The works of Ferreira belong indeed to that class of Portuguese poetry which is most easily intelligible to a foreigner possessing a knowledge of latin. Ferreira’s latinity of expression extends even to metrical scanning in which he assumed new freedoms;106 and the title under which he published his poems, and which they still retain, has a sort of latin air.107 Ferreira has therefore never been a favourite poet with the great mass of the Portuguese public. There was indeed a time during the seventeenth century in which he was despised even by the polite world as a learned pedant;108 but a later posterity has rendered justice to his merits. Precisely such a poet as Ferreira was wanting to create among the Portuguese that taste for sound good sense in poetry, which they but too soon lost, and which, in these latter times, they have tardily endeavoured to recover. Ferreira himself takes various opportunities of explaining the principles by which he was guided in the composition of his works. In an epistle to Diogo Bernardes, he says—his first rule is to be as distrustful of himself as he is of superficial censurers; to follow his natural feelings, and to avoid a forced use of art; to respect only the judgment of those who are capable of judging; to follow the counsel of well informed and sincere friends; and to polish the rudeness of genius by industry and judicious imitation.109

Ferreira’s sonnets which amount to a considerable number, are divided into two books. They were all, as has already been remarked, written by the poet at an early period of life. The study of the Petrarchian sonnet is every where manifest in those attempts to emulate the pure Italian style, which, though imitations, are free of all traces of effort and affectation. In general, however, Ferreira’s tender complaints exhibit only feeble glimmerings of the intensity and grace of Petrarch; but on the other hand they are disfigured by fewer extravagancies than the similar effusions of passion by other Portuguese and Spanish poets; and the energy of the expression is usually ennobled by classic grace of diction. Some of these amatory sonnets may be regarded as models.110 In others, however, the poet speaks of “burning snow and freezing fire.”111 Among the best are some which occur in the second book, in which the poet laments the death of his mistress.112 Ferreira seems to have felt no inclination to imitate Petrarch’s didactic sonnets probably, because he had at an early period given to his didactic poetry a different form, and one which bore a more decided resemblance to his favourite Horace.

In the composition of odes Ferreira unquestionably endeavoured to form his style on the model of Horace. But among the thirteen poems, which in the collection of Ferreira’s works are ranged under the title of Odas, and which notwithstanding their scanty number are divided into two books, there is not one which exhibits a truly lyric flight of fancy. In all the language is excellent; the sentiment noble; and the didactic tone and the dignity of the whole manner are in admirable unison with the sonorous melody of the metre; but no new and energetic ideas, no lyric boldness, which, at first sight, might seem irregularity, surprise and charm the reader. Ferreira indeed expressly proposed to himself to soar even as a writer of odes above “the ignorant multitude;”113 but by his frequent repetition of certain pompous and sonorous phrases, he widely departs from the character of the Horatian style.114 Even the moral energy of sentiment which appears in Ferreira’s odes, is not the energy of Horace.115 It would appear that the Italian canzoni with their superfluity of beautiful words and phrases had influenced Ferreira to an extent of which he was unconscious. Some of his odes have precisely the metrical form of the canzone, with the exception of the concluding flourish or apostrophe of the poet to his poem. Others have shorter stanzas like those of the Spanish odes of Luis de Leon.116 Is possible that Ferreira may have been acted upon by the example of Luis de Leon, as they were contemporaries and almost of equal age; or, perhaps, the Spaniard was influenced by the Portuguese poet. This, however, is a subject to which writers of neither country make allusion; but it is certain that the character of Ferreira had nothing in common with the tranquil yet captivating enthusiasm of Luis de Leon. Nevertheless in the composition of the ode he became a model for the poets of his own nation, as Luis de Leon was for those of Spain; and every poem to which the title of ode has subsequently been given in Portuguese literature, exhibits nearly the same character and metrical form of which he set the example. In Ferreira’s odes the descriptive passages are usually the best.117

The elegies of Ferreira, at the period at which they were written, had also the advantage of the charm of novelty in the literature of his country; for with the exception of the single elegy of Saa de Miranda no poem of that class existed in the Portuguese language. Ariosto seems to have been the model whom Ferreira particularly copied in elegiac composition. Like Ariosto, he very happily seized the idea of the pleasing voluptuous elegy of the ancients, which was soon after neglected and continued long lost to modern literature. His elegy on May is a classic masterpiece.118 He was less successful in plaintive elegy. Among the elegies of this kind which he composed, several deserve only to be regarded as occasional poems on the death of distinguished persons. Others are properly epistles, abounding in moral reflexions and observations on the uncertainty of human affairs, but wanting in that tone of tender melancholy which is essential to the true plaintive elegy.119 A few free translations from the Greek of Moschus and Anacreon are annexed to this collection of elegies.

Ferreira’s eclogues possess little poetic merit; and, excellent as is the diction, the style is not sufficiently bucolick. Ferreira was no less susceptible than Saa de Miranda of the philosophic enjoyment of a country life and the beauties of rural nature; but an ideal pastoral world was foreign to the scope of his genius, and bucolick simplicity was not at all reconcilable with his taste, which invariably inclined him to masculine reflexion, clothed in a tone of didactic seriousness. He would not, therefore, had he even possessed the natural requisites for pastoral poetry, have been disposed to prefer that style as the poetic form for occasional compositions, however agreeable it might be to the individuals of the royal family to have their festivals poetically illustrated by such contributions to the general gallantry of the court.

Ferreira’s epistles occupy the chief portion of the first volume of his poems; and they are, upon the whole, entitled to the first rank in the poet’s works. It is worthy of remark, that these epistles retain the old title of Cartas instead of that of Epistolas, notwithstanding Ferreira’s predilection for latinity in his choice of words. But they differ in so many various ways from the poetic Cartas of Saa de Miranda, that they may be regarded as the first productions of their kind in Portuguese literature. Their contents evidently shew that they were all written when the poet had attained the age of maturity. At that period he resided at court, and from his practical philosophy, for which he was partly indebted to his literary studies, he deduced the maxims which daily received confirmation from the events of real life. Yet the more he was tied to the great world, the more valuable did retirement appear to him. The natural nobleness of his turn of mind was constantly at variance with the manners and characters of the persons by whom he was surrounded. In this state of feeling he wrote his epistles. They are for the most part addressed to men of the first rank, with whom Ferreira was more or less intimate, and among whose names appear those of the most celebrated poets who laboured in common with him for the classic improvement of the national taste. The didactic poems addressed by Ferreira to these men are nearly all in the same strain. The delicacy of the didactic tone of Horace was not to be attained by a poet who had to open the first path for the restoration of classical style in a country in which the old romantic character in poetry, and the scholastic theological spirit in philosophy, were only beginning to yield to the influence of a more liberal cultivation. Neither was Ferreira, with all his elegance, sufficiently cultivated for that Horatian gaiety, which frequently rises to wanton sportiveness, and jests with the very precepts it inculcates. The characteristics of his philosophy are dignified gravity and sound judgment, unalloyed by any thing like pedantry or pretension. But the philosophic medium through which he viewed the vicissitudes of fortune and the follies of mankind, partook more of religious austerity than of epicurean pleasantry; and notwithstanding his general correctness in epistolary composition, even in that respect, he falls, like almost every other modern poet, far short of the energetic precision of the Horatian style. As an epistolary poet, therefore, Ferreira is no more a Portuguese Horace than the two Argensolas are Horaces in Spanish literature.120 But the sound judgment and noble feeling, which may be said to form the moral soul of these poems, are expressed in that natural, unostentatious, pleasing and varied manner, which belongs to the true spirit of the didactic epistle; and the poet’s fancy has scattered as many flowers on the path of ornate wisdom, as are necessary to distinguish it from the high road of moralizing prose. Patriotism and zeal for the national greatness of Portugal give a peculiar colouring to these epistles. In the spirit of this feeling Ferreira extols the union of Portuguese military glory, with the improvement of manners and the cultivation of the understanding; and with regard to cultivation, according to models, he says—one should seek to “excel others in what is best, and only in other respects to imitate.”121 He zealously exhorts his friend Andrade Caminha not to make the muses in Portugal speak any thing but Portuguese.122 He expresses his dissatisfaction at the little encouragement which in his opinion was extended to genius at that period in Portugal. He also inveighs against the perverted appreciation of good and bad, right and wrong.123 Within the limits of his faith, he himself discourses exquisitely on the beauty of reason.124 But the soft language of feeling more particularly glows in those epistles in which he speaks of the joys of friendship and the pleasures of rural life.125 Occasionally Ferreira’s didactic style takes an ironic jocular turn, and then only does it present true Horatian facility.126 Upon the whole if the poetry of reason and sentiment be not more lightly esteemed than the poetry of luxuriant fancy, Ferreira’s epistles must be numbered among the best in modern literature.

Ferreira endeavoured to introduce epigrams, composed after the manner of the ancients, into the poetry of his native country. But he did not succeed in seizing the spirit of the ancient epigram. Ausonius was his model; and the epigrammas and epitaphios which appear among the works of Ferreira are not distinguished either by the tenderness or the energy of the esteemed Greek poems of the same class. Their chief merit is an elegant precision of language conveyed in the metrical form of the Italian octaves; but it is only in a few instances that this elegant precision is in any degree poignant and pleasing.127 The epitaphs are in general dedicated to the memory of men distinguished in Portuguese history.

Ferreira is the author of a tale written in honour of a female national saint, named Colomba, or, according to the popular pronunciation, Comba. Beauty of language also constitutes the whole poetic merit of this piece; and even the introduction, which is long and tedious, sufficiently proves that when Ferreira undertook to celebrate the virtues of St. Colomba he stepped out of his sphere. The subject of the tale is a legend which might have formed the ground-work of a better production. The fair saint, a Portuguese shepherdess, tending her flocks and singing pious songs, becomes the object of the ardent passion of a Moorish king, who discovers her in one of his hunting excursions. The king pursues her until she has no longer any hope of saving herself by flight. In this extremity she implores a rock to open and receive her. The miracle takes place. The disappointed king strikes his lance against the rock, and a clear fountain gushes forth, the waters of which continue to possess miraculous properties. The narrative is, however, much too cold for such a subject; and the description given of the Moorish king is so extremely grotesque, that it is difficult to conceive how a man of Ferreira’s taste could have brought himself to sketch so rude a picture. He has represented the king as being covered with shag like a bear; and in addition to this ornament has given to one side of his head the ear of an ass, and to the other the ear of a dog.128

Ferreira likewise wished to introduce into the dramatic poetry of Portugal a classical style, approximating to that of the ancients as closely as the difference of times and manners would permit. Among his dramatic works there are a tragedy and two comedies. Ferreira’s patriotic feeling induced him to borrow the subject of his tragedy from the history of Portugal; and he selected the story of Inez de Castro, which has since been so frequently handled by Portuguese poets, though before Ferreira’s time it seems to have been untouched. When it is recollected that at the same period the Dominican Bermudez was engaged in writing a Spanish tragedy on the same story, and according to similar principles,129 the conclusion that one of these tragedies in some measure owes its existence to the other is not easily avoided. Both present a striking similarity in invention and arrangement. But neither poet alludes in any way to his contemporary; and even the critics who notice the one work are silent with respect to the other. The prize of tragic art must, however, be awarded to the Inez de Castro of Bermudez. Ferreira’s Castro (for so the tragedy is briefly called by the Portuguese) contains many beautiful passages; but throughout the whole piece there is a deficiency of true pathos; the imitation of the Greek style in form and manner is painfully elaborate; the dramatic, interest of the composition is extremely feeble, and the dignity of tragic poetry is maintained in the language alone. Inez de Castro with her attendant or nurse (ama), the Infante Don Pedro with his secretary, King Alphonso with his three inhuman counsellors, and finally a messenger, are the acting or rather the speaking characters; and a chorus of Coimbrian women are brought into co-operation with these characters in the same manner as in the tragedy of Bermudez. Ferreira, like Bermudez, deviates from the strict laws of the Greek drama only in the neglect of the unities of time and place; and it is evident that this liberty is by both poets only taken from necessity, because they had not sufficient art otherwise to connect the requisite scenes. Both tragedies contain in appearance five acts; but Ferreira has also rendered his fifth act merely an historical appendage. In the opening of Ferreira’s tragedy Inez enters with her attendant, and after some preliminary complaints circumstantially relates the way in which she became connected with the Prince, and through him with the royal family; though it may be presumed that these particulars must have been sufficiently well known to her confidante long before. The scene changes, and the Infante appears accompanied by the female chorus, which Bermudez has more suitably introduced in connection with Inez. The Infante engages in a long discussion with his secretary on the situation of a Prince who has to maintain a conflict between love, and duty and policy. A hymn to love by the chorus closes the first act. The following acts are constructed in a similar manner. At the close of the fourth act the death of Inez is announced by the chorus; and in the fifth a messenger relates the event to the Prince. The lyric passages are the best in the whole tragedy, and among them the hymn to love is particularly beautiful.130 The lines which Inez delivers on her first entrance indicate at once the lyric character of the piece. The dialogue is elegant throughout, but it frequently exhibits over-strained antitheses. The observations occasionally delivered by the chorus, in a metre formed on the model of the sapphic, are sufficiently moral, though they are in general of the commonest character. The decisive scene, in which Inez appears before the king, approaches nearest to true pathos, but never completely attains that height.131 Upon the whole Ferreira was not a tragic poet. He totally failed in seizing the true idea of modern tragedy.

In spirit and in form Ferreira’s two comedies perfectly resemble those of Saa de Miranda. One which is called “Bristo,” (Comedia do Bristo) takes its name from the principal character in the piece. The other is entitled the “Jealous Man,” (Comedia do Cioso). The comedy of Bristo was the production of Ferreira’s early youth. In his dedication to the king, he says that he wrote it during the holidays, in the course of the few days which he was able to snatch from his more serious studies at the university of Coimbra. To this task he was in all probability incited by the example of Saa de Miranda. It may also be presumed that at a subsequent period, Ferreira gave a finer polish to this comedy, to which Portuguese writers usually refer, when they wish to prove how admirably their native language is adapted to light and elegant prose. But it is not merely in this philological point of view that the merits of this work ought to be estimated. In facility, precision and elegance of dialogue, it surpasses the comedies of Saa de Miranda, and many which in other respects are justly ranked among the best in modern literature. The delineation of character, so far as it goes, is natural and decided: indeed some of the characters, among which is a hectoring profligate knight of Rhodes, who resembles the ostentatious soldiers of Plautus, are particularly well sustained. In the Comedia do Cioso, the principal character, though somewhat overcharged, is strikingly sketched. Both dramas contain some comic scenes; but they are upon the whole as deficient in real comic force as they are overburthened with common place morality; and that morality too, as in the comedies of Saa de Miranda, is conveyed in tedious soliloquies.

But the public favour which the court conferred on the regular dramas of Ferreira, in common with those of Saa de Miranda, and the rude compositions of Gil Vicente, may be regarded as one of the circumstances which operated to prevent the formation of a national drama in Portugal. For the rise, as in Spain, of a national party, which might rouse and incite a poet to advance from the point at which Gil Vicente had stopped, became now much more difficult. Thus the art of dramatic invention and composition long wavered amidst heterogeneous forms, until the Portuguese poets who wished to write for the theatre, had no alternative but to become imitators of the Spanish authors who had preceded them, or entirely to renounce the formation of any thing like a national drama. No Portuguese Lope de Vega arose; and Ferreira’s name was only preserved in the recollection of the learned.

After having perused with critical reflection the history of Portuguese poetry and eloquence, from the introduction of the Italian style to the present point, the reader will be prepared to recognize the rank which Camoens holds among the poets of his country. Respecting this most celebrated of the Portuguese poets, indeed almost the only one among them who has obtained any celebrity beyond the limits of his native country, all the writers of the classic school of Saa de Miranda, Diogo Bernardes excepted, are silent, which is a sufficient proof that they did not include him in their party. But the public voice of Portuguese criticism, combined with the general national approbation, has long since elevated him above those who neglected to mention his name, though they were always ready to bestow praise on each other. Camoens, it is true, was a poor adventurer, wandering in India, at the period when Ferreira, Andrade Caminha, and other contemporary writers were setting the poetic fashion at the brilliant court of Lisbon. But the poems which he produced previously to his departure for India, approximate in a striking degree to the classic works of the school of Saa de Miranda; and hence it is probable that the influence of that school, and of the older Portuguese poetry, may have operated in an equal degree on his genius. This relationship of Camoens with all parties in the polite literature of his native country, will be placed in the clearest point of view by introducing him after Ferreira, and before the other poets, who hand in hand with the latter pursued the newly opened course. Thus the genius of Camoens, as the first of Portuguese poets, may be considered conjointly with his merits as a poet in the spirit of the age in which he lived.

CAMOENS.

The biography of Luis de Camões, or Camoens, again brings to recollection that period in which the poets of Portugal considered their character very imperfectly maintained, if their real life did not prove a faithful mirror of the poetic joys and sorrows embodied in their works. Camoens was born at Lisbon, probably in the year 1524. His parents, as it appears, were not rich; but they belonged to the class of ancient nobility, and they were enabled to give their son an education which facilitated his entrance on the career of military and civic honor. From his father, who was captain of a vessel, and who lost his life in shipwreck on the coast of India, it is probable that Camoens heard many stories, which were calculated to inspire him with a taste for adventure and daring enterprize. Of the history of his early youth no remarkable particulars are recorded. He attended the university of Coimbra, where he acquired a fund of historical and mythological knowledge. Some of his elegies and sonnets which have descended to posterity, seem to have been written at this period, though it does not appear that those productions gained for him the friendship of Ferreira, and other contemporaries of eminent talent, who were about the same time studying at Coimbra. It is probable that these young men, who had joined in a mutual and earnest endeavour to attain classic correctness, anticipated nothing extraordinary from the ardent Camoens, who adopted the new style, but did not disdain the old, and whose fancy was too restless to submit to the didactic controul of the judgment. On quitting the university Camoens returned to Lisbon, but with what design is not mentioned by Portuguese authors, nor has any conjecture been formed respecting the views of success which he might have had in that city. He soon, however, became an object of public notoriety through his imprudent conduct in gallantry, which, next to poetry, at that time engrossed his thoughts. The particulars of a love affair, in which he became involved, are not accurately known; and, therefore, how far with respect to it, he was to blame, cannot now be ascertained. It however appears, that the object of his regard was named Catharina de Attayda, and that she was a dama do paço, (lady of honor) at the court. Either on account of this lady, or of some other circumstance which operated unfavourably for the romantic poet, he was banished from Lisbon; and with this event commences the second part of the life of this extraordinary man.

Thus cut off in the age of aspiring pretension and glowing enthusiasm, from the hope of advancing by the course usually open to youthful ambition, Camoens remained for some time tranquilly at Santarem, the place of his exile, in the neighbourhood of Lisbon. There instead of considering what was now necessary to be done with a view to his future welfare, he occupied himself in writing verses, which have been handed down to posterity, but which only served to fix more deeply a passion the object of which was still near him. With a caprice not uncommon in such a state of feeling, Camoens, who cherished at once romantic ideas of patriotism, and indignant emotions of disgust, suddenly changed the whole system of his life. He became a soldier, and served against the Moors as a volunteer on board the Portuguese fleet in the Mediterranean. To be at once a hero and a poet was now the object of his ambition. Whenever time and opportunity permitted, he composed verses, which often, particularly those of the lyric and elegiac class, had for their subject the recollection of his hopeless passion. Whether he had at this period clearly conceived the plan of his national heroic poem, or whether he was actually engaged in its execution, are questions which, like almost every other fact relative to the history of this poet’s talent, remain enveloped in doubt. It is known, however, that he combated the enemies of his country in a naval battle fought off Ceuta. During this action, in which he eminently distinguished himself, he received a gun-shot wound in consequence of which he lost the sight of his right eye. He now hoped to obtain, in the character of a hero, that reward which he had failed to acquire as a poet. He returned to Lisbon. But no individual at court took any active interest in his welfare. All his efforts to gain an honourable competence were unsuccessful; and he was now verging on the age of maturity. More dissatisfied, and yet more proud than ever, he loudly accused his country of ingratitude, while at the same time his poetic effusions prove that his heart overflowed with the warmest feelings of national attachment. At last, determined to leave for ever a land to which his heart was still bound by the ties of another passion besides patriotism, he embarked in the year 1553, at the age of twenty-nine, for India. That his thankless country should not have even his bones, was the sentiment which, on his departure, his indignant feelings prompted him to exclaim in the words of Scipio:—Ingrata patria, non possidebis ossa mea!

From this period the life of Camoens exhibits a chain of successive adventures and calamities; but fate watched over him with miraculous care, and seemed to rescue him from every danger in order that he might complete his poetic career. The squadron with which he sailed to India consisted of four ships. Three were lost in a storm, but Camoens arrived on board the fourth, in the port of Goa. From this circumstance he augured that fortune was now about to smile on him. He soon found, however, that employment was not to be obtained at Goa, and he entered as a volunteer in a military corps, forming part of an expedition which the Portuguese viceroy was fitting out for the aid of an Indian prince. On the arrival of the troops at the place of their destination, a great portion of the Portuguese fell a sacrifice to the insalubrity of the climate; but Camoens returned in safety to Goa after the object of the expedition had been attained. In the situation in which he then stood, there remained for him no other alternative than to embark in a new expedition which was about to sail for the Red Sea to attack the Arabian corsairs. At the island of Ormus, where he passed the winter, Camoens again found leisure to indulge in the workings of his imagination. His mind gave a poetic colouring to every thing which he saw or heard; and the ardour of his patriotism continued to increase in proportion as he became more intimately acquainted with the theatre of the Portuguese atchievements in India. But many circumstances which came within his observation induced him also to indulge in satirical sports of wit. The government of Goa had hitherto done nothing for him. He did not, however, try to promote his interest by flattery. On the contrary, he ridiculed the disparates na India, (follies in India) as he unceremoniously styled some portion of the proceedings of the government of Goa. The viceroy, who took particular umbrage at this satire, banished Camoens to the Chinese island of Macao. The fate of the unfortunate hero and poet was now more deplorable than ever. He however gained permission to quit Macao and visit the Molucca islands, where he collected fresh materials for pictorial poetry; but he could no longer, as the lines beneath his portrait express, “bear in one hand the sword, in the other the pen.132” He was glad to accept the very unpoetic and unheroic post of provedor mòr dos defuntos, (administrator of the effects of deceased persons) by the emoluments of which he was enabled to subsist. Whenever circumstances permitted he turned his attention to his heroic poem, and thus indemnified himself in the ideal world for the part which he was compelled to perform in real life. At length, on the arrival of a new viceroy at Goa, he obtained permission to return to that island, but in the passage thither was shipwrecked on the coast of Camboya. With difficulty he saved his life, and also his poem, the manuscript of which, soaked with sea-water, he brought to land. This circumstance is noticed in the work itself.133 The story of his swimming ashore with his poem in one hand, while he supported himself by the action of the other, and thus saving his Lusiadas as Cæsar saved his commentaries, has obtained currency through the statement of a German writer, who seems to have misunderstood a very intelligible passage of a Portuguese author.134 On his return to Goa, Camoens was well received; but he had not long enjoyed the smiles of fortune, when another change took place in the viceroyship. The new viceroy lent a ready ear to the enemies of the poet, who was now publicly accused of malversation in the discharge of the office which he had filled at Macao. Camoens was thrown into prison, and there left to work out his justification. It appears he fully cleared himself of the charges which had been brought against him; but he was still detained because he was unable to satisfy the demands of his creditors. A poem, which he addressed to the viceroy, at length procured his liberation. After experiencing many other disagreeable adventures he ardently wished to return to Europe, but it was not in his power to defray the expence of his passage. Even when prepared to embark he was stopped by a demand for the re-payment of a loan, and was nearly reduced to despair, but several liberal individuals stepped forward and provided the sum necessary for his relief. Finally, in the year 1569, Camoens, after an absence of nearly sixteen years, arrived at Lisbon, from the rich shores of India, well in health, but in a state of the most abject poverty.