The Lusiad; Or, The Discovery of India, an Epic Poem
turns round. It is used on board ship to weigh the anchors, raise the
masts, etc. The versification of this passage in the original affords a
most noble example of imitative harmony:--
"Mas ja nas naos os bons trabalhadores
Volvem o cabrestante, & repartidos
Pello trabalho, huns puxao pella amarra,
Outros quebrao co peito duro a barra."
STANZA X.
[559]
_Mozaide, whose zealous care
To Gama's eyes reveal'd each treach'rous snare.--_
Had this been mentioned sooner, the interest of the catastrophe of the
poem must have languished. Though he is not a warrior, the unexpected
friend of GAMA bears a much more considerable part in the action of the
Lusiad than the faithful Achates, the friend of the hero, bears in the
business of the Æneid.
[560] _There wast thou call'd to thy celestial home._--This exclamatory
address to the Moor Monzaida, however it may appear digressive, has a
double propriety. The conversion of the Eastern world is the great
purpose of the expedition of GAMA, and Monzaida is the first fruits of
that conversion. The good characters of the victorious heroes, however
neglected by the great genius of Homer, have a fine effect in making an
epic poem interest us and please. It might have been said, that Monzaida
was a traitor to his friends, who crowned his villainy with apostacy.
Camoëns has, therefore, wisely drawn him with other features, worthy of
the friendship of GAMA. Had this been neglected, the hero of the Lusiad
might have shared the fate of the wise Ulysses of the Iliad, against
whom, as Voltaire justly observes, every reader bears a secret ill will.
Nor is the poetical character of Monzaida unsupported by history. He was
not an Arab Moor, so he did not desert his countrymen. These Moors had
determined on the destruction of GAMA; Monzaida admired and esteemed
him, and therefore generously revealed to him his danger. By his
attachment to GAMA he lost all his effects in India, a circumstance
which his prudence and knowledge of affairs must have certainly
foreseen. By the known dangers he encountered, by the loss he thus
voluntarily sustained, and by his after constancy, his sincerity is
undoubtedly proved.
[561] _The joy of the fleet on the homeward departure from India._--We
are now come to that part of the Lusiad, which, in the conduct of the
poem, is parallel to the great catastrophe of the Iliad, when, on the
death of Hector, Achilles thus addresses the Grecian army--
"Ye sons of Greece, in triumph bring
The corpse of Hector, and your pæons sing:
Be this the song, slow moving toward the shore,
'Hector is dead, and Ilion is no more.'"
Our Portuguese poet, who in his machinery, and many other instances, has
followed the manner of Virgil, now forsakes him. In a very bold and
masterly spirit he now models his poem by the steps of Homer. What of
the Lusiad yet remains, in poetical conduct (though not in an imitation
of circumstances), exactly resembles the latter part of the Iliad. The
games at the funeral of Patroclus, and the redemption of the body of
Hector, are the completion of the rage of Achilles. In the same manner,
the reward of the heroes, and the consequences of their expedition
complete the unity of the Lusiad. I cannot say it appears that Milton
ever read our poet (though Fanshaw's translation was published in his
time); yet no instance can be given of a more striking resemblance of
plan and conduct, than may be produced in two principal parts of the
poem of Camoëns, and of the Paradise Lost.--See the Dissertation which
follows this book.
[562] _Near where the bowers of Paradise were plac'd._--Between the
mouth of the Ganges and Euphrates.
[563] Swans.
[564] _His falling kingdom claim'd his earnest care._--This fiction, in
poetical conduct, bears a striking resemblance to the digressive
histories with which Homer enriches and adorns his poems, particularly
to the beautiful description of the feast of the gods with "the
blameless Ethiopians." It also contains a masterly commentary on the
machinery of the Lusiad. The Divine Love conducts GAMA to India. The
same Divine Love is represented as preparing to reform the corrupted
world, when its attention is particularly called to bestow a foretaste
of immortality on the heroes of the expedition which discovered the
eastern world. Nor do the wild fantastic loves, mentioned in this little
episode, afford any objection against this explanation, an explanation
which is expressly given in the episode itself. These wild fantastic
amours signify, in the allegory, the wild sects of different
enthusiasts, which spring up under the wings of the best and most
rational institutions; and which, however contrary to each other, all
agree in deriving their authority from the same source.
[565] _A young Actæon._--The French translator has the following
characteristic note: "This passage is an eternal monument of the
freedoms taken by Camoëns, and at the same time a proof of the
imprudence of poets; an authentic proof of that prejudice which
sometimes blinds them, notwithstanding all the light of their genius.
The modern Actæon of whom he speaks, was King Sebastian. He loved the
chase; but, that pleasure, which is one of the most innocent and one of
the most noble we can possibly taste, did not at all interrupt his
attention to the affairs of state, and did not render him savage, as our
author pretends. On this point the historians are rather to be believed.
And what would the lot of princes be, were they allowed no relaxation
from their toils, while they allow that privilege to their people?
Subjects as we are, let us venerate the amusements of our sovereigns;
let us believe that the august cares for our good, which employ them,
follow them often even to the very bosom of their pleasures."
Many are the strokes in the Lusiad which must endear the character of
Camoëns to every reader of sensibility. The noble freedom and manly
indignation with which he mentions the foible of his prince, and the
flatterers of his court, would do honour to the greatest names of Greece
or Rome. While the shadow of freedom remained in Portugal, the greatest
men of that nation, in the days of Lusian heroism, thought and conducted
themselves in the spirit of Camoëns. A noble anecdote of this brave
spirit offers itself. Alonzo IV., surnamed the Brave, ascended the
throne of Portugal in the vigour of his age. The pleasures of the chase
engrossed all his attention. His confidants and favourites encouraged,
and allured him to it. His time was spent in the forests of Cintra,
while the affairs of government were neglected or executed by those
whose interest it was to keep their sovereign in ignorance. His
presence, at last, being necessary at Lisbon, he entered the council
with all the brisk impetuosity of a young sportsman, and with great
familiarity and gaiety entertained his nobles with the history of a
whole month spent in hunting, in fishing, and shooting. When he had
finished his narrative, a nobleman of the first rank rose up: "Courts
and camps," said he, "were allotted for kings, not woods and deserts.
Even the affairs of private men suffer when recreation is preferred to
business. But when the whims of pleasure engross the thoughts of a king,
a whole nation is consigned to ruin. We came here for other purposes
than to hear the exploits of the chase, exploits which are only
intelligible to grooms and falconers. If your majesty will attend to the
wants, and remove the grievances of your people, you will find them
obedient subjects; if not----" The king, starting with rage, interrupted
him, "If not, what?" "If not," resumed the nobleman, in a firm tone,
"they will look for another and a better king." Alonzo, in the highest
transport of passion, expressed his resentment, and hasted out of the
room. In a little while, however, he returned, calm and reconciled: "I
perceive," said he, "the truth of what you say. He who will not execute
the duties of a king, cannot long have good subjects. Remember, from
this day, you have nothing more to do with Alonzo the sportsman, but
with Alonzo the king of Portugal." His majesty was as good as his
promise, and became, as a warrior and politician, one of the greatest of
the Portuguese monarchs.
[566] _With love's fierce flames his frozen heart shall burn._--"It is
said, that upon the faith of a portrait Don Sebastian fell in love with
Margaret of France, daughter of Henry II., and demanded her in marriage,
but was refused. The Spaniards treated him no less unfavourably, for
they also rejected his proposals for one of the daughters of Philip II.
Our author considers these refusals as the punishment of Don Sebastian's
excessive attachment to the chase; but this is only a consequence of the
prejudice with which he viewed the amusements of his prince. The truth
is, these princesses were refused for political reasons, and not with
any regard to the manner in which he filled up his moments of leisure."
Thus Castera, who, with the same spirit of sagacity, starts and answers
the following objections: "But here is a difficulty: Camoëns wrote
during the life of Don Sebastian, but the circumstance he relates (the
return of GAMA) happened several years before, under the reign of
Emmanuel. How, therefore, could he say that Cupid then saw Don Sebastian
at the chase, when that prince was not then born? The answer is easy:
Cupid, in the allegory of this work, represents the love of God, the
Holy Spirit, who is God himself. Now the Divinity admits of no
distinction of time; one glance of his eye beholds the past, the
present, and the future; everything is present before him."
This defence of the fiction of Actæon is not more absurd than useless.
The free and bold spirit of poetry, and in particular the nature of
allegory, defend it. The poet might easily have said, that Cupid
_foresaw_; but had he said so his satire had been much less genteel. As
the sentiments of Castera on this passage are extremely characteristic
of French ideas, another note from him will perhaps be agreeable.
"Several Portuguese writers have remarked," says he, "that the wish--
'Of these lov'd dogs that now his passions sway,
Ah! may he never fall the hapless prey!'
Had in it an air of prophecy; and fate, in effect, seemed careful to
accomplish it, in making the presaged woes to fall upon Don Sebastian.
If he did not fall a prey to his pack of hounds, we may, however, say
that he was devoured by his favourites, who misled his youth and his
great soul. But at any rate our poet has carried the similitude too far.
It was certainly injurious to Don Sebastian, who nevertheless had the
bounty not only not to punish this audacity, but to reward the just
eulogies which the author had bestowed on him in other places. As much
as the indiscretion of Camoëns ought to surprise us, as much ought we to
admire the generosity of his master."
This foppery, this slavery in thinking, cannot fail to rouse the
indignation of every manly breast, when the facts are fairly stated. Don
Sebastian, who ascended the throne when a child, was a prince of great
abilities and great spirit, but his youth was poisoned with the most
romantic ideas of military glory. The affairs of state were left to his
ministers (for whose character see the next note), his other studies
were neglected, and military exercises, of which he not unjustly
esteemed the chase a principal, were almost his sole employ. Camoëns
beheld this romantic turn, and in a genteel allegorical satire foreboded
its consequences. The wish, that his prince might not fall the prey of
his favourite passion, was in vain. In a rash, ill-concerted expedition
into Africa, Don Sebastian lost his crown in his twenty-fifth year, an