Page images
PDF
EPUB

"Then from out his breast the picture forth with trembling hands he drew,
And the fair face of the maiden flashed upon the gazer's view-
Flashed, as doth the stars of evening through the rosy twilight skies,
With the beauty, and the candour, and the magic of her eyes!

VI.

"And the Moorish youth retiring, waited for the dawn of day,
Then from out Purchena sallied, on a steed of dapple-grey.
On his feet were yellow buskins, all with silken sandals twined,
Shield and spear he bore before him, and a short sword hung behind;

VII.

"And a firelock hung suspended from his right-hand saddle-bow,
Which the Moor, in fair Valencia, learned to manage long ago.
Forth along the wild Sierra, through the dusk he wandered thence,
Fearing not the Christian forces now that Love is his defence.

VIII.

"When at length the sun had risen o'er the morning vapours damp,
In the fields about Huescar he beholds the Christian camp.

For the night he waits in Orca, there conceals his dapple grey,
And through darkness to Galera by a footpath takes his way.

IX.

"From the clouds the rain was falling-from the heavens the snow came down, In the pitchy dark of midnight did he reach the fated town;

Ruined walls were strewn around him, bloody corses strewed the ground,
And the house of his Maleca cannot in the dark be found.

X.

"Oh! the anguish of that moment! Oh! the bitterness to wait
Till the slow-returning daylight would reveal the dear one's fate.
Is she dead? or rudely captured by some ruffian soldier horde?
She, the beautiful and gentle-she, the worshipped and adored!

XI.

"When at length the dawn of morning glimmered through the lonely street, To the house of his beloved turned the Moor his trembling feet;

In the court-yard Moorish corses, men and women, blocked the way,
And, oh! bitter, bitter sorrow! there the fair Maleca lay :-

:

XII.

"Like a lily in a garland twined of dusky Autumn flowers

Like a silver birch-tree shining in the midst of gnarled bowers-
Like the young moon's pearly crescent, seen beside a rain-filled cloud-
Thus the fair, the dead Maleca, lay amid the swarthy crowd!

XIII.

"Then the Moor, with tears down pouring for this foulest crime of crimes,
Pressed her in his sad embraces, kissed her lips a hundred times-
Cried aloud, Oh! cruel Christian, thou who quenched this beauteous sun,
Dearly, dearly, by Mohammed, shalt thou pay for what thou'st done.'

XIV.

"Then he hollowed out the narrow-house, where all that live must dwell, Piled the cold earth on her bosom, took his long, his last farewell,

Smoothed the ground around, lest prying eyes the new-made grave might trace, Then inscribed their names together on the white walls of the place.

XV.

"From that mournful scene departing, slowly, sadly turned the Moor,
Found his steed again at Orca, passed unnoticed and secure,
Reached Purchena, when to Malec he revealed his tale of pain,
How he found Galera taken, and his beauteous sister slain."

Tuzani was a native of Cantoria, and possessed great courage and spirit. Being from his childhood brought up in a family of old Christians, he spoke the Spanish language so perfectly that none would suppose him to have been a Moor. Resolved on seeking revenge for the death of his mistress, he quitted the Valley of the Almanzora in the dress of a Christian soldier, with his good sword by his side, and his matchlock on his shoulder, of which he had learned the use at Valencia and other places. Leaving Purchena, and carrying with him passports from Malec, lest any of the Moors might interrupt him on the journey, he arrived at Baza, and went from thence to the camp of Don John, where he enlisted in the regiment of Naples.

In this capacity he always preserved in his memory the recollection of the death of the beautiful Maleca. The portrait of his mistress never quitted his bosom, and he never ceased to think of the vengeance he had vowed. In order to discover the Christian who had killed her, he mingled constantly among the soldiers, and when he saw a number of them assembled together, he immediately joined them, and endeavoured as soon as possible, to turn the conversation upon the storming of Galera. 66 Certainly, comrades," said he, "there was never a more brilliant action than that, nor was there ever a greater slaughter of Moors.

For my

own part, I confess that I killed more than forty of the most beautiful women in the place, not to talk of the men and the children, who were still more numerous." And thereupon, the soldiers, according to their custom, began to vie with each other in detailing the numbers they had killed, and the plunder they had gained. One day that he had resorted to this stratagem, for the purpose of obtaining information, a soldier answered him in these words, "If you, senor soldier, have killed so many in the storming of Galera, without having compassion on the women and chil dren, you must certainly have a hard and flinty heart, for, after all, it is a sad and mournful action to kill a wo

man, particularly if she be beautiful. Why punish these unfortunate creatures for the crimes that men commit? As for me, I have killed but one, and it grieved me to the soul, particularly when I learned from other women who escaped, that she whom I had slain was sister to the Captain Malec of Purchena. And, indeed, it was evident that she was a woman of rank from her dress, her bracelets, and her ear-rings, which I took away after her death; I only left her her under garment, although it was not less rich than the others, in order that she should not remain entirely naked. It was broidered with green silk. Other soldiers wished to despoil her of it, but I prevented them. The regret that I felt for having killed her was very great, because she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. All those who saw her loaded me with maledictions, saying, "A curse on the villanous soldier who did this deed, and who thus deprived the world of so much beauty! Many persons, both common soldiers and captains, came purposely to see her, and one would say, I would have given five hundred ducats for her,' and another would say, I would have presented her to the king as one of the most precious gifts in the world;' for, indeed, to behold her thus lying upon the ground in that broidered chemise, and with her beauteous hair scattered over her breast like threads of gold, she seemed more like a beautiful angel than a woman; and the fame of her beauty became so extended, that a celebrated painter who is here in the camp, in the com pany of Don Bertrand de la Péna, spent an entire day in painting her portrait, which is so good a likeness, that one is enchanted at beholding it, and is so prized, that the painter rejected an offer of three hundred ducats for it, as if they were three hundred maravedis. For all which reasons I feel the greatest grief and sorrow for what I have done, and always bear about with me the recollection of this unfortunate Moor."

Tuzani had been very attentive to the recital of the Christian. He re

cognised at once that it was he who was the assassin of the beautiful Maleca. Every expression that issued from his mouth in praise of her beauty, went like a dagger to his heart, and he suffered so much from listening to the mournful tragedy, that his paleness became so excessive as to be noticed by the soldiers. Making some excuse, he asked the soldier whether he still retained any of the jewels which the Moor had worn. "Nothing remains," said he, "but a pair of earrings, and another of gold, which I took from her finger; I sold all the rest in Baza for want of money, and I will sell them now to any one who desires them very willingly, in order to try my fortune at the gaming-table with the price." "I will purchase them," said Tuzani, "if we can come to an agreement, and I will bring them to Velezel Blanco, and show them to a sister of the deceased who is there in the service of the marquis." "Come with me, then, to the messroom," said the other, "and you can see them, and buy them, if you are so disposed." Saying this, the soldier and Tuzani withdrew, and on coming to the mess-room, the former drew from a bag the ear-rings and the fingerring, which Tuzani at once recognised as having often seen in the possession of Maleca, at which he could not restrain his most bitter sighs and tears. Checking them, however, he purchased the rings from the soldier, and having placed them in his bosom, he proposed to him to pass a little out of Andarax. Having reached some distance from the village, Tuzani, seeing that the hour of his revenge had come, said to the soldier, "If I show you the portrait of that Moor whom you slew, will you recognise her?"

I have no doubt that I will," said the soldier, "for so firmly are her features impressed upon my memory, that it does not appear an hour since I killed her." Tuzani then putting his hand into his breast, drew from the lining of his doubtlet a piece of parchment, rolled carefully up, which contained the picture. Presenting it to the soldier, he said, "Is this, perchance, the face of the beautiful Maleca?" The soldier throwing his eyes upon it, and being astonished at its wonderful resemblance, exclaimed, "It is she, without doubt, and I tremble at beholding her."

Then Tuzani, no longer able to restrain himself, cried out-"Tell me, O soldier! destitute of honour or of courage, why did you kill one so beautiful? Know that this Moorish maiden was my only delight; that she was my betrothed, and that your cruelty has deprived me of all my hopes of happiness. It is to revenge her that I have come hither; so draw your sword, and defend yourself. We shall soon see whether you will kill me as you killed her, thus triumphing over two lives."

Having said these words, Tuzani commenced a furious attack upon the soldier, who, though somewhat surprised, did not lose his courage, but opposed Tuzani with all the daring of a lion, and thus the combat continued for some time. But Tuzani, who, besides being very valiant, was particularly well skilled in the management of the sword, grievously wounded his adversary, saying, at the same time, "Take, wretch, the just reward of thy barbarity. It is Maleca that sends it to you-she whom you slew without any cause."

The soldier fell, mortally wounded, and the revengeful Moor plunged his sword a second time into his body, saying, "With two wounds you slew my adored mistress, and with two wounds you yourself must die." Then replacing his sword in its scabbard, he withdrew into the mountains, and did not return into Andarax until night.

Tuzani being at length betrayed, and delivered to Don John, asked this prince why he was arrested. But seeing that all was discovered, he wished to deny nothing.

"I am," said he, "a native of Finis, a village between Cantoria and Purchena. I am a Moorish cavalier, and my name is Tuzani. I have assumed this disguise in order to kill a wretch, who, in the assault of Galera, slew my mistress, who was the most beau. tiful being on earth, when he could have made her his prisoner. I swore that I would seek him, and that I would kill him; and I did seek him, and did kill him, two days ago. Such is the truth; let your highness do with me as you please. If I die, I will die content, because I have revenged my mistress, which was my only desire. I hope in the goodness of God that I will see her after my

war.

death, and that she will not have to complain that I left her unavenged. I will die a Christian, and I know that she was a Christian also; for it was agreed that I should take her away, and marry her in Murcia, when we would wait the termination of the It was for this reason that she asked leave from her father to visit Galera, under the pretence of seeing her relatives. Fate, however, ordered it otherwise. Galera was taken-my mistress was slain. I found her dead. With pious tears I laid her in the ground. Upon her tomb I wrote the short tale of her love and my sorrow. I came to revenge her, and I have kept my vow. Now that you have arrested me, I will die content, since I die by the orders of so illustrious a prince. I have only to implore one favour of you. Preserve the portrait of my mistress, lest it should fall into hands that would be unworthy to touch it. Take, also, these jewels; they have little intrinsic value, but they belonged to her, and they are therefore priceless." Having thus Having thus spoken, without his countenance changing in the slightest degree, he bent his knee respectfully before the prince, and presented him with the portrait, and the jewels of Maleca.

His highness, wondering at the calmness with which Tuzani had related his history, and pitying his evil fortune, approached him, and received the portrait and the jewels from his hands. In delivering them up, Tuzani heaved a profound sigh, as if, in surrendering these memorials of his mistress, he surrendered herself and his heart along with her. Don John examined the portrait, and was astonished at the beauty of Maleca, as well as the other cavaliers who sur

rounded him, who all said that Tuzani had acted like a brave soldier and a true cavalier, in revenging the death of so beautiful a lady.

Don Lope, considering the valour of Tuzani, raised him up, and after two or three oaths, said to the prince,

"This soldier is very well justified in what he has done; he has done nothing for which he should suffer death. And if your highness will liberate and restore him his arms, I will be happy to take him into my own company; for I vow to God, if any one killed my mistress, I would not only kill the villain himself, but his whole lineage."

The prince, to satisfy Don Lope and the other officers, ordered the Moor to be liberated, and his arms to be restored.

"Come, my friend," said Don Lope, "enrol yourself under my standard. I love to see such soldiers as you are, there; and in order that you may serve me more willingly, I will take care of this picture of your mistress, and get it framed, in order that it may be saved from any danger of being injured."

"I know well," replied Tuzani, "O hero of your age! that you will be henceforward the master of my fortune, good or bad; but it seems that I lose my mistress a second time. I will serve you faithfully as a good and loyal soldier, if the loss of this picture will not precipitate my death."

Don Lope, how knew how impos. sible it was to combat a notion of that kind, and fearing that the loss of the portrait would cause the soldier a fatal melancholy-"Here," said he, "preserve your consolation, and remain near me I am sure of having in you a valiant friend."

Then Tuzani assumed the name of Ferdinand de Figueroa, and attached himself altogether to the service of Don Lope, and was with him at the battle of Lepanto, and in all his other engagements.*

Such is the story on which the principal interest of this play of Calderon's (Amar despues de la Muerte) depends. There is an under plot which is less interesting, as well as some comic scenes, both of which we have avoided in our specimens, as interfering with the effect of Maleca

* In the "Guerras Civiles de Granada," the adventures of Tuzani are scattered over a great many pages, in the twenty-second and twenty-fourth chapters of that work. We have availed ourselves principally of the abridgment given by M. Damas Hinard, in his “Theatre Espagnol," Calderon, Second Série, but always with a constant reference to the original, introducing from it whatever appeared to add to the picturesqueness of the narrative. Of those additions, the Romance which we have translated, and the Epitaph, are the principal.

and Tuzani's history. It would be unjust to Calderon not to mention the sympathy and toleration which he expresses throughout the play for the persecuted Moors. This generosity (says his French translator) is not confined to him; it is common to the Spanish dramatists generally, and is not only creditable to the character of these poets, but to the national character of their country itself.

THE BETROTHMENT OF TUZANI AND

MALECA.

[The scene represents a beautiful mountain district. On the side of a gentle hill are seated DON FERNANDO VALOR (ABENHUMEYA) and DONNA ISABEL TUZANI (LIDORA). A crowd of Moors and musicians are seen at a little distance.]

ABENHUMEYA-LIDORA.

Aben. Here amid these fragrant bowers,
Twined of thyme and mountain heather,
Where the Spring has called together
The rich Cortez of her flowers-
Where the ground is overstrown
With emerald leaves and buds of gold,
And our ravished eyes behold

The queenly Rose ascend her throne-
Here, Lidora, thou canst rest-

My beauteous spouse-a tranquil hour,
While, perchance, sweet music's power
May charm the sadness from your breast.
Lid.-Ah! my valiant lord, no narrow
Fame for thee is Fate bestowing,
Not alone for thee are growing
Victor oaks in Alpujarra ;

The laurel, too, shall bloom for thee-
The sacred tree that loves the plain-
When the wail of conquered Spain
Shall proclaim thy victory.
No, my lord; 'tis not disdain
Of your grandeur, your affection,
Makes me feel the deep dejection
Weighing on my heart and brain;
'Tis the price at which we buy
Joy's divine but fleeting treasure-
Never comes the light of pleasure
But the shade of grief is nigh:
This alone, my lord, believe me,
Is my secret cause of anguish-
'Tis for this alone I languish-
"Tis for this alone I grieve me.

Thus changeful Fate with power malign
Wounds and heals my doubting breast-
I must be sad for being blest-
And must be blest for being thine.

Aben. If such a cause as this control thee,
And thou art sad from too much gladness,
I, too, must feel a joyful sadness
That I never can console thee.
Never can this grief decay,
Ne'er can cease this sweet dejection,
Since your power and my affection
Must be greater every day.

But sing, sing, in notes of gladness,
Sing the beauty of my bride,
Ever have been close allied
Music and such happy sadness.
The musicians sing.

There is little need to say
Whose thou art, sweet joy divine,
Since 'tis plain thou must be mine
By the shortness of thy stay.

[MALEC enters and advances to speak to ABENHUEYMA. TUZANI (DON ALVARO) and MALECA (DONNA CLARA) appear in the Moorish costume at opposite sides of the stage, and remain there without advancing.

Maleca. "There is little need to say Whose thou art, sweet joy divine- [aside. Tuz." Since 'tis plain thou must be mine By the shortness of thy stay."

[The instruments continue to play during
the remainder of this scene.
Maleca.-What a strange and mournful
feeling

Has this song awakened now!

Tuz.-At this voice, I know not how, Terror through my breast is stealing! Maleca. When to treat about my marriage,

Hither came my lord and father

Tuz. When I hoped Love's fruits to
gather,

After many a sore miscarriage.
Maleca.-Ah! my joy-the sweet notes

say

Tuz.-Ah! my hope, this fate is thine-
[Both sing with the musicians.

Yes, 'tis plain thou must be mine
By the shortness of thy stay.

Malec.-Since, my lord, the light of Love
Shineth through the smoke of Mars-
As the light of evening stars

Through the passing clouds above-
I have come to tell to thee,

That to-day I wed my daughter.

Aben. Of the many that have sought her,

Who is then the favoured he?

Malec.-Tuzani, Lidora's brother.
Aben.-Ah! thou hast selected duly
Since I know how long and truly
They have been faithful to each other.
For them Love shines not dark or dim,
Nor yet a doubtful fate doth give-
He without her can never live,
And she must perish without him.
Where are they both?

[TUZANI and MALECA approach.
Behold me here,

Maleca.Glad at thy feet.

[blocks in formation]
« PreviousContinue »