Tuesday, 7 January 2025

Tuesday's Serial: “Lavengro” by George Borrow (in English) - XLVI

 

Chapter 91

excursions—adventurous english—opaque forests

Time passed on, and Belle and I lived in the dingle; when I say lived, the reader must not imagine that we were always there. She went out upon her pursuits, and I went out where inclination led me; but my excursions were very short ones, and hers occasionally occupied whole days and nights. If I am asked how we passed the time when we were together in the dingle, I would answer that we passed the time very tolerably, all things considered; we conversed together, and when tired of conversing I would sometimes give Belle a lesson in Armenian; her progress was not particularly brilliant, but upon the whole satisfactory; in about a fortnight she had hung up one hundred Haikan numerals upon the hake of her memory. I found her conversation highly entertaining; she had seen much of England and Wales, and had been acquainted with some of the most remarkable characters who travelled the roads at that period; and let me be permitted to say that many remarkable characters have travelled the roads of England, of whom fame has never said a word. I loved to hear her anecdotes of these people; some of whom I found had occasionally attempted to lay violent hands either upon her person or effects, and had invariably been humbled by her without the assistance of either justice or constable. I could clearly see, however, that she was rather tired of England, and wished for a change of scene; she was particularly fond of talking of America, to which country her aspirations chiefly tended. She had heard much of America, which had excited her imagination; for at that time America was much talked of, on roads and in homesteads—at least, so said Belle, who had good opportunities of knowing—and most people allowed that it was a good country for adventurous English. The people who chiefly spoke against it, as she informed me, were soldiers disbanded upon pensions, the sextons of village churches, and excisemen. Belle had a craving desire to visit that country, and to wander with cart and little animal amongst its forests; when I would occasionally object that she would be exposed to danger from strange and perverse customers, she said that she had not wandered the roads of England so long and alone, to be afraid of anything which might befall in America; and that she hoped, with God's favour, to be able to take her own part, and to give to perverse customers as good as they might bring. She had a dauntless heart, that same Belle. Such was the staple of Belle’s conversation. As for mine, I would endeavour to entertain her with strange dreams of adventure, in which I figured in opaque forests, strangling wild beasts, or discovering and plundering the hoards of dragons; and sometimes I would narrate to her other things far more genuine—how I had tamed savage mares, wrestled with Satan, and had dealings with ferocious publishers. Belle had a kind heart, and would weep at the accounts I gave her of my early wrestlings with the dark Monarch. She would sigh, too, as I recounted the many slights and degradations I had received at the hands of ferocious publishers; but she had the curiosity of a woman; and once, when I talked to her of the triumphs which I had achieved over unbroken mares, she lifted up her head and questioned me as to the secret of the virtue which I possessed over the aforesaid animals; whereupon I sternly reprimanded, and forthwith commanded her to repeat the Armenian numerals; and, on her demurring, I made use of words, to escape which she was glad to comply, saying the Armenian numerals from one to a hundred, which numerals, as a punishment for her curiosity, I made her repeat three times, loading her with the bitterest reproaches whenever she committed the slightest error, either in accent or pronunciation, which reproaches she appeared to bear with the greatest patience. And now I have given a very fair account of the manner in which Isopel Berners and myself passed our time in the dingle.

 

 

Chapter 92

the landlord—rather too old—without a shilling—reputation—a fortnight ago—liquids—irrational beings—parliament cove—my brewer

Amongst other excursions, I went several times to the public-house to which I introduced the reader in a former chapter. I had experienced such beneficial effects from the ale I had drunk on that occasion, that I wished to put its virtue to a frequent test; nor did the ale on subsequent trials belie the good opinion which I had at first formed of it. After each visit which I made to the public-house, I found my frame stronger and my mind more cheerful than they had previously been. The landlord appeared at all times glad to see me, and insisted that I should sit within the bar, where, leaving his other guests to be attended to by a niece of his, who officiated as his housekeeper, he would sit beside me and talk of matters concerning 'the ring,' indulging himself with a cigar and a glass of sherry, which he told me was his favourite wine, whilst I drank my ale. 'I loves the conversation of all you coves of the ring,' said he once, 'which is natural, seeing as how I have fought in a ring myself. Ah, there is nothing like the ring; I wish I was not rather too old to go again into it. I often think I should like to have another rally—one more rally, and then—but there's a time for all things—youth will be served, every dog has his day, and mine has been a fine one—let me be content. After beating Tom of Hopton, there was not much more to be done in the way of reputation; I have long sat in my bar the wonder and glory of this here neighbourhood. I'm content, as far as reputation goes; I only wish money would come in a little faster; however, the next main of cocks will bring me in something handsome—comes off next Wednesday, at ——; have ventured ten five-pound notes—shouldn't say ventured either—run no risk at all, because why? I knows my birds.' About ten days after this harangue I called again, at about three o'clock one afternoon. The landlord was seated on a bench by a table in the common room, which was entirely empty; he was neither smoking nor drinking, but sat with his arms folded, and his head hanging down over his breast. At the sound of my step he looked up; 'Ah,' said he, 'I am glad you are come, I was just thinking about you.' 'Thank you,' said I; 'it was very kind of you, especially at a time like this, when your mind must be full of your good fortune. Allow me to congratulate you on the sums of money you won by the main of cocks at ——. I hope you brought it all safe home.' 'Safe home!' said the landlord; 'I brought myself safe home, and that was all; came home without a shilling, regularly done, cleaned out.' 'I am sorry for that,' said I; 'but after you had won the money, you ought to have been satisfied, and not risked it again—how did you lose it? I hope not by the pea and thimble.' 'Pea and thimble,' said the landlord—'not I; those confounded cocks left me nothing to lose by the pea and thimble.' 'Dear me,' said I; 'I thought that you knew your birds.' 'Well, so I did,' said the landlord; 'I knew the birds to be good birds, and so they proved, and would have won if better birds had not been brought against them, of which I knew nothing, and so do you see I am done, regularly done.' 'Well,' said I, 'don't be cast down; there is one thing of which the cocks by their misfortune cannot deprive you—your reputation; make the most of that, give up cock-fighting, and be content with the custom of your house, of which you will always have plenty, as long as you are the wonder and glory of the neighbourhood.'

The landlord struck the table before him violently with his fist. 'Confound my reputation!' said he. 'No reputation that I have will be satisfaction to my brewer for the seventy pounds I owe him. Reputation won't pass for the current coin of this here realm; and let me tell you, that if it ain't backed by some of it, it ain't a bit better than rotten cabbage, as I have found. Only three weeks since I was, as I told you, the wonder and glory of the neighbourhood; and people used to come to look at me, and worship me; but as soon as it began to be whispered about that I owed money to the brewer, they presently left off all that kind of thing; and now, during the last three days, since the tale of my misfortune with the cocks has got wind, almost everybody has left off coming to the house, and the few who does, merely comes to insult and flout me. It was only last night that fellow, Hunter, called me an old fool in my own kitchen here. He wouldn't have called me a fool a fortnight ago; 'twas I called him fool then, and last night he called me old fool; what do you think of that?—the man that beat Tom of Hopton, to be called, not only a fool, but an old fool; and I hadn't heart, with one blow of this here fist into his face, to send his head ringing against the wall; for when a man's pocket is low, do you see, his heart ain't much higher; but it is of no use talking, something must be done. I was thinking of you just as you came in, for you are just the person that can help me.'

'If you mean,' said I, 'to ask me to lend you the money which you want, it will be to no purpose, as I have very little of my own, just enough for my own occasions; it is true, if you desired it, I would be your intercessor with the person to whom you owe the money, though I should hardly imagine that anything I could say—' 'You are right there,' said the landlord; 'much the brewer would care for anything you could say on my behalf—your going would be the very way to do me up entirely. A pretty opinion he would have of the state of my affairs if I were to send him such a 'cessor as you; and as for your lending me money, don't think I was ever fool enough to suppose either that you had any, or if you had that you would be fool enough to lend me any. No, no, the coves of the ring knows better; I have been in the ring myself, and knows what a fighting cove is, and though I was fool enough to back those birds, I was never quite fool enough to lend anybody money. What I am about to propose is something very different from going to my landlord, or lending any capital; something which, though it will put money into my pocket, will likewise put something handsome into your own. I want to get up a fight in this here neighbourhood, which would be sure to bring plenty of people to my house, for a week before and after it takes place; and as people can't come without drinking, I think I could, during one fortnight, get off for the brewer all the sour and unsaleable liquids he now has, which people wouldn't drink at any other time, and by that means, do you see, liquidate my debt; then, by means of betting, making first all right, do you see, I have no doubt that I could put something handsome into my pocket and yours, for I should wish you to be the fighting man, as I think I can depend upon you.' 'You really must excuse me,' said I; 'I have no wish to figure as a pugilist; besides, there is such a difference in our ages; you may be the stronger man of the two, and perhaps the hardest hitter, but I am in much better condition, am more active on my legs, so that I am almost sure I should have the advantage, for, as you very properly observed, “Youth will be served.”' 'Oh, I didn't mean to fight,' said the landlord; 'I think I could beat you if I were to train a little; but in the fight I propose I looks more to the main chance than anything else. I question whether half so many people could be brought together if you were to fight with me as the person I have in view, or whether there would be half such opportunities for betting, for I am a man, do you see; the person I wants you to fight with is not a man, but the young woman you keeps company with.'

'The young woman I keep company with,' said I; 'pray what do you mean?'

'We will go into the bar, and have something,' said the landlord, getting up. 'My niece is out, and there is no one in the house, so we can talk the matter over quietly.' Thereupon I followed him into the bar, where, having drawn me a jug of ale, helped himself as usual to a glass of sherry, and lighted a cigar, he proceeded to explain himself further. 'What I wants is to get up a fight between a man and a woman; there never has yet been such a thing in the ring, and the mere noise of the matter would bring thousands of people together, quite enough to drink out, for the thing should be close to my house, all the brewer's stock of liquids, both good and bad.' 'But,' said I, 'you were the other day boasting of the respectability of your house; do you think that a fight between a man and a woman close to your establishment would add to its respectability?' 'Confound the respectability of my house,' said the landlord; 'will the respectability of my house pay the brewer, or keep the roof over my head? No, no! when respectability won't keep a man, do you see, the best thing is to let it go and wander. Only let me have my own way, and both the brewer, myself, and everyone of us, will be satisfied. And then the betting—what a deal we may make by the betting—and that we shall have all to ourselves, you, I, and the young woman; the brewer will have no hand in that. I can manage to raise ten pounds, and if by flashing that about I don't manage to make a hundred, call me horse.' 'But suppose,' said I, 'the party should lose, on whom you sport your money, even as the birds did?' 'We must first make all right,' said the landlord, 'as I told you before; the birds were irrational beings, and therefore couldn't come to an understanding with the others, as you and the young woman can. The birds fought fair; but I intend that you and the young woman should fight cross.' 'What do you mean by cross?' said I. 'Come, come,' said the landlord, 'don't attempt to gammon me; you in the ring, and pretend not to know what fighting cross is! That won't do, my fine fellow; but as no one is near us, I will speak out. I intend that you and the young woman should understand one another, and agree beforehand which should be beat; and if you take my advice, you will determine between you that the young woman shall be beat, as I am sure that the odds will run high upon her, her character as a fist-woman being spread far and wide, so that all the flats who think it will be all right will back her, as I myself would, if I thought it would be a fair thing.' 'Then,' said I, 'you would not have us fight fair?' 'By no means,' said the landlord, 'because why?—I conceives that a cross is a certainty to those who are in it, whereas by the fair thing one may lose all he has.' 'But,' said I, 'you said the other day that you liked the fair thing.' 'That was by way of gammon,' said the landlord; 'just, do you see, as a Parliament cove might say, speechifying from a barrel to a set of flats, whom he means to sell. Come, what do you think of the plan?'

'It is a very ingenious one,' said I.

'Ain't it?' said the landlord. 'The folks in this neighbourhood are beginning to call me old fool; but if they don't call me something else, when they sees me friends with the brewer, and money in my pocket, my name is not Catchpole. Come, drink your ale, and go home to the young gentlewoman.'

'I am going,' said I, rising from my seat, after finishing the remainder of the ale.

'Do you think she'll have any objection?' said the landlord.

'To do what?' said I.

'Why, to fight cross.'

'Yes, I do,' said I.

'But you will do your best to persuade her?'

'No, I will not,' said I.

'Are you fool enough to wish to fight fair?'

'No,' said I, 'I am wise enough to wish not to fight at all.'

'And how's my brewer to be paid?' said the landlord.

'I really don't know,' said I.

'I'll change my religion,' said the landlord.

 

 

Chapter 93

another visit—a clever man—another statue

 

One evening Belle and myself received another visit from the man in black. After a little conversation of not much importance, I asked him whether he would not take some refreshment, assuring him that I was now in possession of some very excellent Hollands, which, with a glass, a jug of water, and a lump of sugar, was heartily at his service; he accepted my offer, and Belle going with a jug to the spring, from which she was in the habit of procuring water for tea, speedily returned with it full of the clear, delicious water of which I have already spoken. Having placed the jug by the side of the man in black, she brought him a glass and spoon, and a tea-cup, the latter containing various lumps of snowy-white sugar: in the meantime I had produced a bottle of the stronger liquid. The man in black helped himself to some water, and likewise to some Hollands, the proportion of water being about two-thirds; then adding a lump of sugar, he stirred the whole up, tasted it, and said that it was good.

'This is one of the good things of life,' he added, after a short pause.

'What are the others?' I demanded.

'There is Malvoisia sack,' said the man in black, 'and partridge, and beccafico.'

'And what do you say to high mass?' said I.

'High mass!' said the man in black; 'however,' he continued, after a pause, 'I will be frank with you; I came to be so; I may have heard high mass on a time, and said it too; but as for any predilection for it, I assure you I have no more than for a long High Church sermon.'

'You speak a la Margutte,' said I.

'Margutte!' said the man in black, musingly, 'Margutte!'

'You have read Pulci, I suppose?' said I.

'Yes, yes,' said the man in black, laughing; 'I remember.'

'He might be rendered into English,' said I, 'something in this style:

 

'To which Margutte answered with a sneer,

I like the blue no better than the black,

My faith consists alone in savoury cheer,

In roasted capons, and in potent sack;

But above all, in famous gin and clear,

Which often lays the Briton on his back;

With lump of sugar, and with lymph from well,

I drink it, and defy the fiends of hell.'

 

'He! he! he!' said the man in black; 'that is more than Mezzofante could have done for a stanza of Byron.'

'A clever man,' said I.

'Who?' said the man in black.

'Mezzofante di Bologna.'

'He! he! he!' said the man in black; 'now I know that you are not a gypsy, at least a soothsayer; no soothsayer would have said that—'

'Why,' said I, 'does he not understand five-and-twenty tongues?'

'Oh yes,' said the man in black; 'and five-and-twenty added to them; but, he! he! he! it was principally from him, who is certainly the greatest of Philologists, that I formed my opinion of the sect.'

'You ought to speak of him with more respect,' said I; 'I have heard say that he has done good service to your See.'

'Oh yes,' said the man in black; 'he has done good service to our See, that is, in his way; when the neophytes of the Propaganda are to be examined in the several tongues in which they are destined to preach, he is appointed to question them, the questions being first written down for him, or else, he! he! he!—Of course you know Napoleon's estimate of Mezzofante; he sent for the linguist from motives of curiosity, and after some discourse with him, told him that he might depart; then turning to some of his generals he observed, “Nous avons eu ici un exemple qu'un homme peut avoir beaucoup de paroles avec bien peu d'esprit.”'

'You are ungrateful to him,' said I; 'well, perhaps, when he is dead and gone you will do him justice.'

'True,' said the man in black; 'when he is dead and gone, we intend to erect him a statue of wood, on the left-hand side of the door of the Vatican library.'

'Of wood?' said I.

'He was the son of a carpenter, you know,' said the man in black; 'the figure will be of wood for no other reason, I assure you; he! he!'

'You should place another statue on the right.'

'Perhaps we shall,' said the man in black; 'but we know of no one amongst the philologists of Italy, nor, indeed, of the other countries inhabited by the faithful, worthy to sit parallel in effigy with our illustrissimo; when, indeed, we have conquered these regions of the perfidious by bringing the inhabitants thereof to the true faith, I have no doubt that we shall be able to select one worthy to bear him company—one whose statue shall be placed on the right hand of the library, in testimony of our joy at his conversion; for, as you know, “There is more joy,” etc.'

'Wood?' said I.

'I hope not,' said the man in black; 'no, if I be consulted as to the material for the statue, I should strongly recommend bronze.'

And when the man in black had said this, he emptied his second tumbler of its contents, and prepared himself another.

Saturday, 4 January 2025

“In Nomine Domine” by Pope Nicholas II (translated into English by Ernest Flagg Henderson).

(a.) Papal Version.

In the name of the Lord God our Saviour Jesus Christ, in the year of his incarnation 1059, in the month of April, in the 12th indiction—the holy Gospel being placed before us and the most reverend and blessed apostolic pope Nicholas presiding, while the most I'everend archbishops, bishops, abbots and venerable priests and deacons assisted —in the church of the Lateran patriarch, which is called the church of Constantine, this same venerable pontiff, decreeing by apostolic authority, spoke thus concerning the election of the supreme pontiff: Ye know, most blessed and beloved fellow bishops and brothers—nor has it been hidden from the lower members also—how much adversity this apostolic chair, in which by God's will I serve, did endure at the death of our master and predecessor, Stephen of blessed memory: to how many blows, indeed, and frequent wounds it was subjected by the traffickers in simoniacal heresy; so that the columns of the living God seemed almost to totter already, and the net of the chief fisher to be submerged, amid the swelling blasts, in the depths of shipwreck. Wherefore, if it please ye brethren, we ought prudently to take measures for future cases, and to provide for the stace of the church hereafter, lest—which God forbid—the same evils may revive and prevail. Therefore, strengthened by the authority of our predecessors and of the other holy fathers, we decree and establish:

 

1.            That, when the pontiff of this Roman universal church dies, the cardinal bishops, after first conferring together with most diligent consideration, shall afterwards call in to themselves the cardinal clergy; and then the remaining clergy and the people shall approach and consent to the new election.

2.            That—lest the disease of venality creep in through any excuse whatever—the men of the church shall be the leaders in carrying on the election of a pope, the others merely followers. And surely this order of electing will be considered right and lawful by those who, having looked through the rules or decrees of the various fathers, also take into consideration that sentence of our blessed predecessor Leo. " No reasoning permits," he says, " that those should be considered as among the bishops who have neither been elected by the clergy, nor desired by the people, nor consecrated by the bishops of their province with the approval of the metropolitan." But since the apostolic chair is elevated above all the churches of the earth, and thus can have no metropolitan over it, the cardinal bishops perform beyond a doubt the functions of that metropolitan, when, namely, they raise their chosen pope to the apex of apostolic glory.

3.            They shall make their choice, moreover, from the lap of this (Roman) church itself, if a suitable man is to be found there. But if not, one shall be chosen from another church.

4.            Saving the honour and reverence due to our beloved son Henry who is at present called king, and will be in the future, as it is hoped, emperor by God's grace; according as we now have granted to him and to his successors who shall obtain this right personally from this apostolic see.

5.            But, if the perversity of depraved and wicked men shall so prevail that a pure, sincere and free election can not be held in Rome, the cardinal bishops, with the clergy of the church and the catholic laity, may have the right and power, even though few in numbers, of electing a pontiff for the apostolic see wherever it may seem to them most suitable.

6.            It is to be clearly understood that if. after an election has been held, a time of war, or the endeavours of any man who is prompted by the spirit of malignity, shall prevent him who has been elected from being enthroned according to custom in the apostolic chair: nevertheless he who has been elected shall, as pope, have authority to rule the holy Roman church and to have the disposal of all its resources; as we know the blessed Gregory to have done before his consecration.

 

But if any one, contrary to this our decree promulgated by a synodal vote, shall, through sedition or presumption or any wile, be elected or even ordained and enthroned: by the authority of God and of the holy apostles Peter and Paul he shall be subjected, as Antichrist and invader and destroyer of all Christianity, to a perpetual anathema, being cast out from the threshold of the holy church of God, together with his instigators, favourers and followers. Nor at any time shall he be allowed a hearing in this matter, but he shall irrevocably be deposed from every ecclesiastical grade, no matter what one he had previously held. Whoever shall adhere to him or show any reverence to him, or shall presume in any way to defend him, shall be bound by a like sentence. Whoever, moreover, shall scorn the import of this our decree, and shall attempt, contrary to this statute, presumptuously to confound and perturb the Roman church, shall be condemned with a perpetual anathema and excommunication and shall be considered as among the impious who do not rise at the Judgment. He shall feel against him, namely, the wrath of Almighty God, the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, and shall experience in this life and in the next the fury of the holy apostles Peter and Paul whose church he presumes to confound. His habitation shall be made a desert, and there shall be none to dwell in his tents. His sons shall be made orphans and his wife a widow. He shall be removed in wrath, and his sons shall go begging and shall be cast out of their habitations. The usurer shall go through all his substance and strangers shall destroy the results of his labours. The whole earth shall fight against him and all the elements oppose him; and the merits of all the saints at rest shall confound him, and in this life shall take open vengeance against him. But the grace of Almighty God will protect those who observe this our decree, and the authority of the blessed apostles Peter and Paul will absolve them from the bonds of all their sins.

I, Nicholas, bishop of the holy catholic and apostolic Roman church, have signed this decree promulgated by us as it stands above. I, Boniface, by the grace of God bishop of Albano, have signed. I, Humbert, bishop of the holy church of Sylva Candida, have signed. I, Peter, bishop of the church of Ostia, have signed. And other bishops to the number of 76, with priests and deacons have signed.

Nicholas II

Rome, 1059.

 

 

(b.) Imperial Version.

(The beginning and the ending of the imperial version are, with the exception of a word or two, identical with those of the papal. The differences are to be found in the numbered paragraphs. The cardinals in general and not only the cardinal-bishops are to be the prime movers in the election, and the emperor's share in their proceedings is largely increased.)

 

1.            (…) That, when the pontiff of this Roman church universal dies, the cardinals, after first conferring together with most diligent consideration—saving the honour and reverence due to our beloved son Henry, who is at present called king, and will be in the future, as it is hoped, emperor by God's grace, according as we now, by the mediation of his envoy W. the chancellor of Lombardy, have granted to him and to those of his successors who shall obtain this right personally from this apostolic see,—shall approach and consent to the new election.

2.            That—lest the disease of venality creep in through any excuse whatever—the men of the church, together with our most serene son king Henry, shall be the leaders in carrying on the election of a pope, the others merely followers.

3.            They shall make their choice, moreover, from the lap of this (Roman) church itself, if a suitable man is to be found there. But if not, one shall be chosen from another church.

4.            But, if the perversity of depraved and wicked men shall so prevail that a pure, sincere and free election can not be held in Rome, they may have the right and power, even though few in numbers, of electing a pontiff for the apostolic see wherever it may seem to them, together with the most unconquerable king, Henry, to be most suitable

5.                It is to be clearly understood that if, after an election, has been held, a time of war, or the endeavour of any man who is prompted by the spirit of malignity, shall prevent him who has been elected from being enthroned according to custom in the apostolic chair: nevertheless he who has been elected shall, as pope, have authority to rule the holy Roman church, and to have the disposal of all its resources; as we know the blessed Gregory to have done before his consecration. (…).

Friday, 3 January 2025

Friday's Sung Word "Tic-tac do Meu Coração" by Alcyr Pires Vermelho and Valfrido Silva (in Portuguese)

O tic-tac do meu coração
Marca o compasso do meu grande amor
Na alegria bate muito forte
E na tristeza bate fraco
Porque sente dor

O tic-tic
O tic-tac do meu coração
Marca o compasso de um atroz viver
É o relógio de uma existência
E pouco a pouco vai morrendo
De tanto sofrer

Meu coração já bate diferente
Dando o sinal do fim da mocidade
O seu pulsar é o soluçar constante
De quem muito amou na vida com sinceridade
Às vezes eu penso que o tic-tac
É um aviso do meu coração
Que já cansado de tanto sofrer
Não quer que eu tenha nesta vida uma desilusão 

  You can watch Carmen Miranda singing "Tic-tac do Meu Coração" with the Bando da Lua in the movie "Springtime in the Rockies" here.

 

You can listen "Tic-tac do Meu Coração" sung by Ney Matogrosso here.


Thursday, 2 January 2025

Thursday's Serial: “A Moreninha” by Dr. Joaquim Manoel de Macedo (in Portuguese) - II

 

I - APOSTA IMPRUDENTE

— Bravo! exclamou Filipe, entrando e despindo a casaca, que pendurou em um cabide velho. Bravo!... Interessante cena! Mas certo que desonrosa fora para casa de um estudante de medicina e já do sexto ano, a não lhe valer o adágio antigo: o hábito não faz o monge.

— Temos discurso!... Atenção!... Ordem!... gritaram a um tempo três vozes.

— Coisa célebre! acrescentou Leopoldo, Filipe sempre se torna orador depois do jantar...

— E dá-lhe para fazer epigramas, disse Fabrício.

— Naturalmente, acudiu Leopoldo, que, por dono da casa, maior quinhão houvera no cumprimento do recém-chegado; naturalmente Bocage, quando tomava carraspanas, descompunha os médicos.

— C’est trop fort! bocejou Augusto, espreguiçando-se no canapé em que se achava deitado.

— Como quiserem, continuou Filipe, pondo-se em hábitos menores; mas por minha vida que a carraspana de hoje ainda me concede apreciar devidamente aqui o meu amigo Fabrício, que talvez acaba de chegar de alguma visita diplomática, vestido com esmero e alinho, porém tendo a cabeça encapuçada com a vermelha e velha carapuça do Leopoldo; este, ali escondido dentro de seu robe de chambre cor de burro quando foge, e sentado em uma cadeira tão desconjuntada que, para não cair com ela, põe em ação todas as leis de equilíbrio, que estudou em Pouillet; acolá, enfim, o meu romântico Augusto, em ceroulas, com as fraldas à mostra, estirado em um canapé em tão bom uso, que ainda agora mesmo fez com que Leopoldo se lembrasse de Bocage. Oh! V.S.as tomam café!

Ali o senhor descansa a xícara azul em um pires de porcelana... aquele tem uma chávena com belos lavores dourados, mas o pires é cor-de-rosa... aquele outro nem porcelana, nem lavores, nem cor azul ou de rosa, nem xícara... nem pires... aquilo é uma tigela num prato...

— Carraspana!... Carraspana!... gritaram os três.

— Ó moleque! prosseguiu Filipe, voltando-se para o corredor, traz-me café, ainda que seja no púcaro em que o coas; pois creio que, a não ser a falta de louça, já teu senhor mo teria oferecido.

— Carraspana!... Carraspana!...

— Sim, continuou ele, eu vejo que vocês...

— Carraspana! Carraspana!...

Não sei de nós quem mostra...

— Carraspana! ... Carraspana!

Seguiram-se alguns momentos de silêncio, e ficaram os quatro estudantes assim a modo de moças quando jogam o siso. Filipe não falava, por conhecer o propósito em que estavam os três de lhe não deixar concluir uma só proposição; e estes, porque esperavam vê-lo abrir a boca para gritar-lhe: carraspana!

Enfim, foi ainda Filipe o primeiro que falou, exclamando de repente:

— Paz! Paz!...

— Ah! já?... disse Leopoldo, que era o mais influído.

— Filipe é como o galego, disse um outro; perderia tudo para não guardar silêncio durante uma hora.

— Está bem, o passado, passado: protesto não falar mais nunca na carapuça, nem nas cadeiras, nem na louça do Leopoldo... Estão no caso... sim...

— Hein?... olha a carraspana...

— Basta! Vamos a negócio mais sério. Onde vão vocês passar o dia de Sant’Ana?

— Por quê?... Temos patuscada?... acudiu Leopoldo.

— Minha avó chama-se Ana.

— Ergo!...

Estou habilitado para convidá-los a vir passar a véspera e dia de Sant’Ana conosco, na ilha de...

— Eu vou, disse prontamente Leopoldo.

— E dois, acudiu logo Fabrício.

Augusto só guardou silêncio.

— E tu, Augusto?... perguntou Filipe.

— Eu?... Eu não conheço tua avó.

— Ora, sou seu criado; também eu não a conheço, disse Fabrício.

— Nem eu, acrescentou Leopoldo.

— Não conhecem a avó, mas conhecem o neto, disse Filipe.

— E ademais, tornou Fabrício, palavra de honra que nenhum de nós tomará o trabalho de lá ir por causa da velha.

— Augusto, minha avó é a velha mais patusca do Rio de Janeiro.

— Sim?... Que idade tem?

— Sessenta anos.

— Está fresquinha ainda... Ora.... se um de nós a enfeitiça e se faz avô de Filipe!

— E ela, que possui talvez seus 200 mil cruzados, não é assim, Filipe? Olha, se é assim, e tua avó se lembrasse de querer casar comigo, disse Fabrício, juro que mais depressa daria o meu "recebo a vós" aos cobres da velha, do que a qualquer das nossas "toma-larguras" da moda.

— Por quem são!... Deixem minha avó e tratemos da patuscada. Então tu vais, Augusto?

— Não.

— É uma bonita ilha.

— Não duvido.

— Reuniremos uma sociedade pouco numerosa, mas bem escolhida.

Melhor para vocês.

— No domingo, à noite, teremos um baile.

— Estimo que se divirtam.

— Minhas primas vão. Não as conheço.

— São bonitas.

— Que me importa?... Deixem-me. Vocês sabem o meu fraco e caem-me logo com ele: moças!... moças!... Confesso que dou o cavaco por elas, mas as moças me têm posto velho.

— E porque ele não conhece tuas primas, disse Fabrício.

— Ora… o que poderão ser senão demoninhas, como são todas as outras moças bonitas?

— Então tuas primas são gentis?... perguntou Leopoldo a Filipe.

— A mais velha, respondeu este, tem dezessete anos, chama-se Joana, tem cabelos negros, belos olhos da mesma cor, e é pálida.

— Hein?... exclamou Augusto, pondo-se de um pulo duas braças longe do canapé onde estava deitado: então ela é pálida?...

— A mais moça tem um ano de menos: loira, de olhos azuis, faces cor-de-rosa... seio de alabastro... dentes...

— Como se chama?

— Joaquina.

— Ai, meus pecados! ... disse Augusto.

— Vejam como Augusto já está enternecido...

Mas, Filipe, tu já me disseste que tinhas uma irmã.

— Sim: é uma moreninha de catorze anos.

— Moreninha! Diabo!... exclamou outra vez Augusto, dando novo pulo.

— Está sabido... Augusto não relaxa a patuscada.

— É que este ano já tenho pagodeado meu quantum satis; e, assim como vocês, também eu quero andar em dia com alguns senhores, com quem nos é muito preciso andar de contas justos no mês de novembro.

— Mas a pálida?... A loira?... A moreninha?...

— Que interessante terceto! exclamou em tom teatral Augusto; que coleção de belos tipos!... Uma jovem com dezessete anos, pálida… romântica e, portanto, sublime; uma outra, loira… de olhos azuis... faces cor-de-rosa… e... não sei que mais; enfim, clássica e por isso bela. Por último, uma terceira de catorze anos… moreninha, que, ou seja romântica ou clássica, prosaica ou poética, ingênua ou misteriosa, há de por força ser interessante, travessa e engraçada; e por conseqüência qualquer das três, ou todas ao mesmo tempo, muito capazes de fazer de minha alma peteca, de meu coração pitorra!... Está tratado… não há remédio... Filipe, vou visitar tua avó. Sim, é melhor passar os dois dias estudando alegremente nesses três interessantes volumes da grande obra da natureza, do que gastar as horas, por exemplo, sobre um célebre Velpeau, que só ele faz por sua conta e risco mais citações em cada página do que todos os meirinhos fizeram, fazem e hão de fazer pelo mundo.

— Bela conseqüência! É raciocínio o teu que faria inveja a um calouro, disse Fabrício.

— Bem raciocinado… não tem dúvida, acudiu Filipe; então, conto contigo, Augusto.

— Dou-te palavra… e mesmo porque eu devo visitar tua avó.

— Sim... já sei... isso dirás tu a ela.

— Mas vocês não têm reparado que Fabrício tornou-se amuado e pensativo, desde que se falou nas primas de Filipe?...

— Disseram-me que ele anda enrabichado com minha prima Joaninha.

— A pálida?… pois eu já me vou dispondo a fazer meu pé de alferes com a loira.

— E tu, Augusto, quererás porventura requestar minha irmã?...

— É possível.

— E de qual gostarás mais, da pálida, da loira ou da moreninha?...

Creio que gostarei, principalmente, de todas..

— Ei-lo aí com sua mania.

— Augusto é incorrigível.

— Não, é romântico.

— Nem uma coisa nem outra... é um grandíssimo velhaco.

— Não diz o que sente.

— Não sente o que diz.

— Faz mais do que isso, pois diz o que não sente.

— O que quiserem… Serei incorrigível, romântico ou velhaco, não digo o que sinto, não sinto o que digo, ou mesmo digo o que não sinto; sou, enfim, mau e perigoso, e vocês inocentes e anjinhos. Todavia, eu a ninguém escondo os sentimentos que ainda há pouco mostrei: em toda a parte confesso que sou volúvel, inconstante e incapaz de amar três dias um mesmo objeto; verdade seja que nada há mais fácil do que me ouvirem um "eu vos amo" , mas também a nenhuma pedi ainda que me desse fé; pelo contrário, digo a todas o como sou; e se, apesar de tal, sua vaidade é tanta que se suponham inesquecíveis, a culpa, certo que não é minha. Eis o que faço. E vós, meus caros amigos, que blasonais de firmeza de rochedo, que jurais amor eterno cem vezes por ano a cem diversas belezas... sois tanto ou ainda mais inconstantes que eu!... Mas entre nós há sempre uma grande diferença; vós enganais e eu desengano; eu digo a verdade e vós, meus senhores, mentis...

— Está romântico!... Está romântico!... exclamaram os três, rindo às gargalhadas.

— A alma que Deus me deu, continuou Augusto, é sensível demais para reter por muito tempo uma mesma impressão. Sou inconstante, mas sou feliz na minha inconstância, porque, apaixonando-me tantas vezes, não chego nunca a amar uma vez...

— Oh!... Oh!... Que horror!... Que horror!...

— Sim! Esse sentimento que voto às vezes a dez jovens num só dia, às vezes numa mesma hora, não é amor, certamente. Por minha vida, interessantes senhores, meus pensamentos nunca têm damas; porque sempre têm damas; eu nunca amei... eu não amo ainda… eu não amarei jamais.

— Ah!... Ah!... Ah!... E como ele diz aquilo!

— Ou, se querem, precisarei melhor o meu programa sentimental; lá vai: afirmo, meus senhores, que meu pensamento nunca se ocupou, não se ocupa, nem se há de ocupar de uma mesma moça durante quinze dias.

— E eu afirmo que segunda-feira voltarás da ilha de... loucamente apaixonado de alguma de minhas primas.

— Pode bem suceder que de ambas.

E que todo resto do ano letivo passarás pela rua de... duas e três vezes por dia, somente com o fim de vê-la.

— Assevero que não.

— Assevero que sim.

— Quem?... Eu?... Eu mesmo passar duas e três vezes por dia por uma só rua por causa de uma moça?... E para quê?... Para vê-ia lançar-me olhos de ternura, ou sorrir-se brandamente quando eu para ela olhar, e depois fazer-me caretas ao lhe dar as costas?... Para que ela chame as vizinhas que lhe devem ajudar a chamar-me tolo, paleta, basbaque e namorador?... Não, minhas belas senhoras da moda! Eu vos conheço!... Amante apaixonado quando vos vejo, esqueço-me de vós, duas horas depois de deixar-vos. Fora disto só queimarei o incenso da ironia no altar de vossa vaidade; fingirei obedecer a vossos caprichos e somente zombarei deles. Ah! ... Muitas vezes, alguma de vós, quando me ouve dizer: "Sois encantadora", está dizendo consigo: "Ele me adora", enquanto eu digo também comigo: "Que vaidosa!"

— Que vaidoso!… te digo eu, exclamou Filipe.

— Ora, esta não é má!... Então vocês querem governar o meu coração?...

— Não; porém eu torno a afirmar que tu amarás uma de minhas primas durante todo o tempo que for da vontade dela.

— Que mimos de amor que são as primas deste senhor!

— Eu te mostrarei.

— Juro que não.

Aposto que sim.

— Aposto que não.

— Papel e tinta: escreva-se a aposta.

— Mas tu me dás muita vantagem, e eu rejeitarei a menor. Tens apenas duas primas: é um número de feiticeiras muito limitado. Não sejam só elas as únicas magas que em teu favor invoquem para me encantar: meus sentimentos ofendem, talvez, a vaidade de todas as belas; todas as belas, pois, tenham o direito de te fazer ganhar a aposta, meu valente campeão do amor constante!

— Como quiseres, mas escreve.

— E quem perder?...

— Pagará a todos nós um almoço no Pharoux, disse Fabrício.

Qual almoço! acudiu Leopoldo. Pagará um camarote no primeiro drama novo que representar o nosso João Caetano.

— Nem almoço, nem camarote, concluiu Filipe; se perderes, escreverás a história da tua derrota; e se ganhares, escreverei o triunfo da tua inconstância.

— Bem, escrever-se-á um romance, e um de nós dois, o infeliz, será o autor.

Augusto escreveu primeira, segunda e terceira vez o termo da aposta; mas depois de longa e vigorosa discussão, em que qualquer dos quatro falou duas vezes sobre a matéria, uma para responder e dez ou doze pela ordem; depois de se oferecerem quinze emendas e vinte artigos aditivos, caiu tudo por grande maioria, e entre bravos, apoiados e aplausos, foi aprovado, salva a redação, o seguinte termo:

 

"No dia 20 de julho de 18... na sala parlamentar da casa; ... da rua de..., sendo testemunhas os estudantes Fabrício e Leopoldo, acordaram Filipe e Augusto, também estudantes, que, se até o dia 20 de agosto do corrente ano, o segundo acordante tiver amado a uma só mulher durante quinze dias ou mais, será obrigado a escrever um romance em que tal acontecimento confesse; e, no caso contrário, igual pena sofrerá o primeiro acordante. Sala parlamentar, 20 de julho de 18... Salva a redação".

Como testemunhas — Fabrício e Leopoldo.

Acordantes — Filipe e Augusto.

 

E eram oito horas da noite quando se levantou a sessão.

Wednesday, 1 January 2025

Wednesday's Good Reading: "Noturno" by Raul de Leoni (in Portuguese)


No parque antigo, a noite era afetuosa e mansa,
Sob a lenda encantada do luar...

Os pinheiros pensavam cousas longas,
Nas alturas dormentes e desertas...
O aroma nupcial dos jasmins delirantes,
Diluindo um cheiro acre de resinas,
Espiritualizava e adormecia
O ar meigo e silencioso...
A ronda dos espíritos noturnos,
Em medrosos rumores,
Gemia entre os ciprestes e os loureiros...
Na penumbra dos bosques, o luar
Entreabria clareiras encantadas,
Prateando o verde-malva das latadas
E as doces perspectivas do pomar...

As nascentes sonhavam, em surdina,
Numa tonalidade cristalina,
Monótonos murmurinhos,
Gorgolejos de águas frescas...

Sobre a areia de prata dos caminhos,
A sombra espiritual dos eucaliptos,
Bulindo ao sopro tímido da aragem,
Projetava ao luar desenhos indecisos
Ágeis bailados leves de arabescos,
Farândolas de sombras fugitivas...

E das perdidas curvas das estradas,
De paragens distantes
Como fantasmas de serenatas,
Ressonâncias sonâmbulas traziam
A longa, a pungentíssima saudade
De cavatinas e mandolinatas...
Lembro-me bem, quando em quando,
Entre as sebes escondidas,
Um insidioso grilo impertinente,
Roendo um som estridente,
Arranhava o silêncio...

No parque antigo, a noite era afetuosa e mansa,
Sob a lenda encantada do luar...
Eu era bem criança e, já possuindo
A sensibilidade evocadora
De um poeta de símbolos profundos,
Solitário e comovido,
No minarete do solar paterno,
Com os pequeninos olhos deslumbrados,
Passei a noite inteira, o olhar perdido,
No azul sonoro, o azul profundo, o azul eterno
Dos eternos espaços constelados...

Era a primeira vez que eu contemplava o mundo,
Que eu via face a face o mistério profundo
Da fantasmagoria universal
No prodígio da noite silenciosa.

Era a primeira vez...
E foi aí, talvez,
Que começou a história atormentada
Da minha alma, curiosa dos abismos,
Inquieta da existência e doente do Além...
Filha da maldição do Arcanjo rebelado...

Sim, que foi nessa noite, não me engano,
– Noite que nunca mais esquecerei –
Que – a alma ainda em crisálida, – velando
No minarete do solar paterno,
Diante da noite azul – eu senti e pensei
O meu primeiro sofrimento humano
E o meu primeiro pensamento eterno...

Como fora do Tempo e além do Espaço,
Ser sem princípio, espírito sem fim,
Sofria toda a humanidade em mim,
Nessa contemplação imponderável!

Já nem ouvia o trêmulo compasso
Das horas que fugiam pela noite,
Que os olhos soltos pela imensidade,
Numa melancolia deslumbrada,
Imaginando cousas nunca ditas,
Todo eu me eterizava e me perdia
Na ideia das esferas infinitas,
Na lenda universal das distâncias eternas...

No parque antigo, a noite era afetuosa e mansa,
Sob a lenda encantada do luar...

Foi nessa noite antiga
Que se desencantou para a vertigem
A suave virgindade do meu ser!

Já a lua transmontava as cordilheiras...
Cães ladravam ao longe, em sobressalto;
No pátio das mansões, na granja das herdades,
O cântico dos galos estalava,
Desoladoramente pelos ares,
Acordando as distâncias esquecidas...

E, então, num silencioso desencanto,
Eu fui adormecendo lentamente,
Enquanto
Pela fria fluidez azul do espaço eterno
Em reticências trêmulas, sorria
A ironia longínqua das estrelas...