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!