divendres, 5 de desembre del 2014

me encendió la mente para cantar el Príncipe Thebano, que armado el pecho de valor ardiente, armo de clava la robusta mano: Aquel justo, aquel fuerte, aquel prudente debelador de monstros Soberano; que la gran pátria liíertó oprimidaj y con Hebe merece immortal vida.José Gregório da Rosa Araújo, que teve a aícunha de Câcâ. Por entre os kodaks das pessoas em evidência nesse dia e nessa época, deslizam, como exigua acção, as peripécias, as aventuras da viagem do autor, arvo- rado em protagonista. Finalmente, êle regressa à sua imaginária terra natal, Alijó dos Vinhos, despedindo-se do leitor: Esta noite lá volto pr'a botica, Mas um grande poema ahi lhes fica.

Do Pequito o nariz que põe ao canto, 
Lá do Egypto a pyramide famosa ; 
E a muitos inda dá no goto hoje 
Ramalho  ir côr de burro quando foge. 

Ironiza o facto do ministério progressista 
não se ter encorporado no cortejo: 

Ministros nem por sombras, o governo, 
Que rege e manda em cousas do paiz. 
Foi de Camões amigo para o inverno, 
Descer dos altos sólios jamais quiz. 
Nem Barros 3 da fazenda de olhar terno, 
Nem outro que Luciano 4 aqui se diz, 
Que em cousas d'esta ordem não são finos 
E mais do que estadistas são Calinos. 

Contrapõe àquele estranho facto o procedimento 
do estimado e popular presidente da câmara munici- 
pal, José Gregório da Rosa Araújo: 

Mas quem levou a palma foi o illustre 
Gregório que também se diz José 5; 
Se a Musa da epopeia me der lustre 
Em verso hei^de mostrar o que elle é. 
Mas porque a minha penna não deslustre 
Outros que nada valem d'elle ao pé, 
Apenas eu direi que a presidência 
Viu tudo desfilar em continência. 



1 Rodrigo Afonso Pequito. 

2 Ramalho Ortigão, que trajava um fato cinzento, de passeio. 

3 Henrique de Barros Gomes.

como em tantas outras composições atribuídas a 
Bocage — eu não creio que este poema seja 
dele, ainda admitindo que para o povo o 
compusesse. 

A última quadra da 1.^ parte é salientemente 
corriqueira e nem por gracejo se pode imputar a 
Elmano: 

Por ora venhão os cobres, 
Senhor povo, que eu com arte, 
O que lá fez o Broega 
Direi na segunda Parte. 

Encontrei uma referência de Sousa Bandeira — o 
chistoso jornalista conhecido por Braz Tisana — a outra obra de J. J. Bordalo, 
«colecção de cartas alfabéticas e vocabulosas (sic) para guia completa dos meninos e meninas». 

Nessa referência informa Bandeira que os redac- 
tores da Semana depenaram sofrivelmente o autor das 
cartas alfabéticas e vocabulosas e depois 
acrescenta: 

«O mestre Bordalo, desconfiando que a sublimi- 
dade de alguma palavra nào fosse percebida pelos 
seus amáveis leitores, apresenta a versão delas 
e diz — 




Têz — quer dizer superfície corpórea! Cerviz — 
escravidão! Calo — o que molesta os pés!
 Kilo, medida e 
peso. 
Vella — a de cebo, cera, e também a de navio. 
— Digerir — quer dizer, consumir no ventre!! 
Já se vê 
que o homem merece os dous patacos!»  

ESTOLEIDA (A). 

Sei que deste poema herói-cómico, o qual ainda 
nào pude vêr, foi autor o português-brasileiro
 padre 
João Pereira da Silva, depois cónego e mais tarde 
nomeado monsenhor da capela real no 
Rio de Janeiro, 
cargo de que não chegou a tomar posse. 

Também sei por informação de um ilustre escritor 
fluminense, meu bom amigo, que o cónego 
Januário 
da Cunha Barbosa transcreveu no seu Parnaso algu- 
mas oitavas do canto 2.°, as quais compreendem a 
descrição do Pão de Assucar e do sítio de Botafogo. 

Nada mais posso acrescentar. 



FARFUNCIA (A) poema heroe-comico offerecido aos 
senhores do Douro por B. J. S. P. C. Porto, 1823, 60 
pags. em 8°, 

autor foi o dr. Bernardino Joaquim da Silva 
Carneiro, lente da faculdade de Direito na Universi- 

1 Escriptos humorísticos, tomo II, pág. 208. 



50 POEMAS HEROI-COMICOS 

dade de Coimbra, muito conhecido pelos seus com- 
pêndios escolares, hoje postos de parte. 

Quando compôs este poema herói-cómico, Bernar- 
dino Carneiro tinha apenas dezassete anos de idade. 

Farfúncia, vocábulo que se autoriza com a lição 
de Filinto Elísio, é sinónimo de farfalhice ou farfân- 
cia. O autor personifica nesta palavra o gosto, a ma- 
nia das famílias durienses pelos chás, dançaS; jogos 
de prendas e de roda, modinhas, batota, etc. 

Farfúncia (assim se chama); mas té gora 
Nenhum Ápelles soube desenhalla ; 
Ou lhe dêm corpo, e talhe de senhora, 
Ou queirão c'os insectos comparalla : 
Em nenhum domicilio se demora; 
Como immensa no Douro se assignala; 
Pois que he todo o seu spirito subido 
O frenesim das sucias 1 conhecido. 

Ella a deosa se diz, a divindade, 
(Das Magas continua a mesma historia;) 
Que invisível preside a sociedade 
Nos dias de prazer, noites de gloria; 
Ella, quem Frazões faz em toda idade; 
No pimponismo induz gente da escoria. 
Ella, as modas inventa, ella farfante. 
Namoros origina a todo o instante. 

Como se vê, o poema (dividido em 4 cantos) é 
composto em oitava-rima; e de medíocre valor literá- 

1 Significando assembleias, partidas de jogo ou dança, em 
casas particulares. Ainda na minha infância assim se dizia no 
Porto. 



PORTUGUESES 51 

rio, uma rapaziada apenas, alegre e incorrecta— até na 
revisão tipográfica. 

Contudo nào se lhe pode negar fidelidade na pin- 
tura dos costumes- sociáveis daquela província, espe- 
cialmente no Alto Douro; e nào digo daquela época, 
porque esses costumes teem ali mudado pouco ou 
nada. • 

Sob este ponto de vista, ainda hoje A Farfuncia é 
verdadeira. 

Quanto ao seu autor, contarei que, sendo já velho, 
os alunos lhe chamavam «Doutor Balandrino» e ju- 
diavam com êle. 

Um ano, no primeiro dia de aula, dia apenas de 
«cavaco», segundo a expressão escolar, um aluno, que 
lhe imitava perfeitamente a voz fanhosa e rouca, lem- 
brou-se de fazer eco a tudo quanto o professor dis- 
sesse. / 

Sentou-se na cátedra o doutor Balandrino e disse: 

— Meus senhores: 
Logo o eco repetiu: 

— «Meus senhores». 

E entào, todo o curso, mordendo o beiço ou guin- 
chando rizinhos, assistiu a esta vivacíssima scena có- 
mica: 

Lente — Vamos começar os nossos trabalhos. 

Eco — Vamos começar os nossos trabalhos. 

Lente — Aqui há-i-eco?! 

Eco — Aqui há-i-eco?! 

Lente — Há-i-há! 



52 POEMAS HEROI-COMIpOS 

Eco — Há-i-há! 

Doutor Balandrino tocou a campainha, veio o be- 
del e êle disse-lhe: 
— Ó seu Galiào. 
Eco — Ó seu Galiào. 
Lente — Vá pedir outra aula. 
Eco — Vá pedir outra aula. 
Lente — Que esta tem eco. 
Eco — Que esta tem eco. 
Lente — Não está ouvindo? 
Eco — Não está ouvindo? 
Bedel — Parece ... 
Eco — Parece . . . 

Lente — Pois não ouve, com todos os diabos?! 
Eco — Pois não ouve, com todos os diabos?! 
Lente — Vá dizer ao reitor e eu vou-me embora. 
Eco — Vá dizer ao reitor e eu vou-me embora. 

Vide Douri-Vinhada, 

FESTA (A) de Baldo, poema mixto, em 8 cantos, 
por Álvaro Teixeira de Macedo, impresso em Lisboa, 
1847, na tipografia de António José da Rocha. Se- 
gunda edição, Lisboa, Tipografia das Horas Român- 
ticas, 1888. Esta edição é o volume \2P da Biblio- 
theca Universal antiga e moderna; traz uma notícia 
biográfica do autor e uma carta de Garrett. 

Álvaro Teixeira de Macedo é português-brasileiro, 
pois nasceu no Recife de Pernambuco, em 1807, 
quando o Brasil estava ainda no seu período colonial. 



PORTUGUESES 53 

Em 1834 o imperador D. Pedro II nomeou-o se- 
cretário (adido) da legação brasileira em Lisboa, onde 
o irmào mais novo de Macedo veio exercer as fun- 
ções de encarregado de negócios. Macedo casou em 
Lisboa com a filha de um' negociante, neta de inglês; 
e faleceu na Bélgica, em dezembro de 1849, quando 
ali representava o Brasil como encarregado de ne- 
gócios. 

O poema Festa de Baldo deve ter sido escrito em 
Lisboa, depois que Álvaro casou, porque nele faz elo- 
giosa referência à esposa: 

Feliz eu, que alcancei das mãos da sorte 
A mulher que meu Baldo procurava; 

Antes do ano de 1843, voltou a Lisboa para 
se tratar de um grave padecimento, em casa da famí- 
lia de sua mulher, padecimento que nào deixou jamais 
de o afligir, roubando-lhe o bom humor de que era 
dotado. 

Contudo a acçào do poema decorre em Pernam- 
buco, na entào vila de Goiana, por uma natural revi- 
vescência saudosa das recordações que o prendiam à 
província em que nascera. 

Garrett diz na carta ao autor que todas as perso- 
nagens do poema falam em português sincero, ornado 
sem exagerações e puro. É verdade. E isto dá mais 
um quilate lusitano à elaboração do poema, posto 
que o assunto seja brasileiro. 

A Festa de Baldo canta com delicadeza, e por ve- 



54 POEMAS HEROI-COMICOS 

zes com graça, as consequências incómodas que 
podem advir, para famílias pacatas, da tentação de tro- 
carem o remanso doméstico pela convivência mundana. 

De vez em quando assombream o bom humor de 
Teixeira Macedo algumas nuvens resultantes da injus- 
tiça com que foi preterido na sua carreira diplomá- 
tica, e perpassam quaisquer alusões políticas, aliás 
mansas e discretas. 

Todo o poema foi composto em verso branco, nào 
isento de algumas falhas na metrificação. 

Da 1.^ edição só vi até hoje um exemplar, na bi- 
blioteca do sr. capitão de artilharia Ferreira de Lima. 

Compreende 93 páginas, sendo uma de dedicató- 
ria e outra de breve prefação ao «Leitor benigno>. 

FILENAIDA, por A. B. de C — Coimbra, 1822. 

O catálogo da livraria Moreira Cabral (Porto) 2.^ 
parte, n.° 5052, designa-o como poema erótico. 

Não sei se será herói-cómico ou não. Ainda o nào 
encontrei. Os livreiros de Coimbra nào me puderam 
dar notícia dele. Nem a Biblioteca da Universidade 
o possui. 

FOGUETARIO (Ò) poema heróico ao muito sórdido, 
fétido e tórrido ^ Deos do fogo, o grande Vulcano, Se- 
nhor dos Ferreiros, Erector ^ das fumaças, Espalhador 



1 Tórrido, segundo Inocêncio; temido, segundo Mendes dos 
Remédios. 

2 Erector, seg. I; Director, seg. M. R. 



PORTUGUESES 55 

das faíscas, Imperador dos fogoens, espirros e escorvas ^ : 
pelo mesmo ^ herói do poema, o muito ^ reverendo có- 
nego Erostato Fogacho, Assoprador dos murroens da 
torre da pólvora *, Thesoureiro mor das buchas, Pro- 
curador ^ das escorias, Capataz e Director da presente 
torre do fogo dos Balbazes ^. Dado á luz ^ pelo Mor- 
domo-mór dos Cien-fuegos, censor das girandolas, quali- 
ficador dos montantes, e sacabuchas geral de todo o ar- 
tificio foguetal ^. Na Officina dos Cyclopes ®. 

Este poema, a que o autor chamou heróico por 
antífrase, é atribuído a Pedro de Azevedo Tojal, ba- 
charel em cánoneS; o qual, depois de ter enviuvado 
duas vezes, seguiu a vida eclesiástica, e faleceu 
em 1742 na quinta das Romeiras, em Santo António 
do Tojal, arrabalde de Lisboa. 

Do Foguetário existiam várias cópias manuscritas, 
algumas incompletas. Em 1884 o dr. Rodrigo Veloso 
planeou fazer imprimir em Barcelos este poema; mas 
a impressão não chegou a concluir-se. Em 1904 o edi- 
tor França Amado, de Coimbra, estampou uma cópia 
integral, que o sr. dr. Mendes dos Remédios encon- 

1 • Seg. M. R. fogoens, espinhos, escorvas e escórias. 

2 Falta esta palavra na cópia de M. R. 

3 Também falta esta palavra. 

4 Na cópia de M. R. — Consumidor da torre da pólvora, 

5 Na cópia de M. R. — Provedor. 

6 Na cópia de M. R. — Torre de fogo, sem as duas seguin- 
tes palavras. 

7 Composto pelo, na cópia de M. R. 

8 Na cópia de M. R. — de fogo. 

9 Segundo a cópia de I. 



56 POEMAS HEROI-COMICOS 

trou na Biblioteca da Universidade, reviu e precedeu 
de um erudito antelóquio. 

Consta o Foguetário de 6 cantos, em oitava-rima. 

O seu assunto é o fogo de artifício, obra de um 
cónego, pirotécnico-amador, que foi queimado por 
ocasião dos magnificentes festejos com que no ano de 
1729 quis D. João V solenizar em Lisboa os despo- 
sórios do príncipe do Brasil, D. José — depois rei 
deste nome — com a infanta espanhola D. Mariana 
Vitória; — festejos que também ficaram assinalados 
por um grande temporal. ^ 

• O poema é chistoso; mas a metrificação não isenta 
de defeitos, alguns dos quais talvez sejam da respon- 
sabilidade dos antigos copistas. 

No castelo de Lisboa armara o cónego pirotécnico 
uma torre que êle devia incendiar, e cuja altura teria 
dado rebate no olimpo, por se arrecearem os deuses 
de que fosse uma nova tentativa revolucionária dos 
Titans ^. 

O autor dessa gigantesca máquina foi denunciado 
a Júpiter por Juno e condenado a degredo no Etna, 
com trabalhos forçados nas forjas de Vulcano^ deus 
do fogo. 

(i Quem se prestou a conduzi-lo à Sicília, não por 
mar, mas por outro meio de transporte? 

Foi o famoso padre Bartolomeu Lourenço de Gus- 
mão, dito o Voador, também chamado o da Passarola, 



1 Este assunto também foi cantado por Tomás Pinto Bran- 
dão na silva Relação nova do fogo do CastellOf 1729, 



PORTUGUESES S7 

em razão das tentativas aerostáticas por ele realizadas 
na cidade de Lisboa, 74 anos antes dos irmàos Mont- 
golfier terem feito ascenções em França. 

É incontestavelmente uma trouvaille, que reforça o 
interesse da acção e a côr histórica do poema. 

O Voador não saiu bem tratado das mãos sa- 
tíricas de Pedro Tojal, como também não saiu das 
de Tomás Pinto Brandão, e outros humoristas da 
época. 

Pobre padre! êle foi um malhadeiro como todos 
os inventores, e o peor é que teve de expatriar-se para 
fugir às garras da Inquisição e de ir morrer misera- 
velmente num hospital de Toledo. 

Vénus toma a defesa do cónego -pirotécnico, e 
consegue que Júpiter Tonante, ouvido o conselho dos 
deuses, lhe perdoe finalmente. 

Então, já livre, o Foguetário é reconduzido à pá- 
tria no mesmo veículo aéreo. 

Emquanto os densos ares navegarão, 
'' Alternadamente forão conversando 

Nos infortúnios, que até ali passáfSo, 
Cada qual respondendo e perguntando, 
Té que com vento prospero chegarão 
A Vai de Cavallinhos, e deixando 
Ahi o Nauta ao Padre, em lom violento 
Deu hum estouro, e foi varando o vento. 

Restituído à pátria, o feliz cónego, herói da pi- 
rotecnia nacional, embasbaca as gentes alfacinhas fa- 
zendo queimar o seu fogo de vistas e reabilitando-se 



58 POEMAS HERÓI-CÓMICOS 

do fiasco originado pela chuva nas primeiras noites 
dos festejos reais. 

Em todo o poema, sào frequentes as liberdades 
de expressão, sobretudo as que se filiam nas frequen- 
tes comparações entre os estrondos do fogo de artifí- 
cio e outros. 

O Foguetário, escrito entre 1729 e 1742, é, por- 
tanto, anterior ao Hissope, que António Denis compôs 
em Elvas entre 1770 e 1772. 

António Maria do Couto designa o poema de To- 
jal pelo Título de Foguetaida. 

FRADALHADA (A) poema alvar devidido (sic) em 
trez cantos — Janeirada, Possidonio o Crú, a Borrada 
ou a Burrada, por ***. Lisboa, 1869. 

Esta sátira — pois assim deve classificar-se — tem 
por objecto os acontecimentos da política portuguesa 
em 1868: os tumultos do mês de janeiro no Porto e 
Lisboa; a queda do ministério da Fusão; a chamada 
do conde de Ávila ao poder, e logo depois a do mi- 
nistério presidido por Sá da Bandeira mas substan- 
cialmente caracterizado pelo bispo de Viseu (D. An- 
tónio Alves Martins), o qual tomou a chefatura do 
novo partido que saiu desses acontecimentos políticos 
com o nome de — reformista. 

A Fradalhada carece de valor literário e graça. 

Também da mesma época (1867-1869) conheço 
outra sátira política — Os heroes da época (Porto, 1869) 
igualmente insignificante. 



PORTUGUESES 59 



G 



GATICANEA, ou cruelissima guerra entre os cães, 
e os gatos, decidida em huma sanguinolenta batalha na 
grande Praça da Real Villa de Mafra. Escripta por 
João Jorge de Carvalho. Lisboa, 1781. 

Fizeram-se mais duas edições— 1817 e 1828. 

Este poema, em decassílabos pareados, tem 4 
cantos, e o seu assunto está claramente expresso no 

título. 

Não devemos atribuir ao autor a pretensão de 
querer imitar a Batrachomyomachia ou guerra dos ratos 
e das rans, que seria um bocejo de Homero (porque 
ele dormitava às vezes) se de Homero fosse. A Batra- 
chomyomachia, não podendo nós penetrar o sentido 
simbólico que porventura a valorize, é uma sensabo- 
ria inçada de nomes gregos, e mal avisado andaria 
quem se lembrasse de imitá-la. 

Nào, Joào Jorge de Carvalho nào teve esse des- 
propositado intento, antes se inspirou, como confessa 
na Prefação, que é também Argumento, num caso que 
um seu amigo lhe recomendou como bom assunto 
para uma epopeia jocosa. 

João Jorge desempenhou-se menos mal do encargo, 
sem esforço, e por vezes com graça: quanto a metri- 
ficação, salvou dignamente a honra do convento. 



60 POEMAS HEROI-COMICOS 

Ferida a grande batalha entre as hostes caninas e 
gatescaS; sào os cães que retornam vencedores. 

Uma das curiosas particularidades deste poema é, 
no canto 3.°^ a descrição do convento de Mafra: 

Elle tem quatro frentes , ou fachadas, 
Com janellas tão grandes, e rasgadas, 
E feitas com tal arte, que por bellas 
Hum poitico parece qualquer delias. 

Em duas ordens postas em redondo 
Tão bella perspectiva vão compondo, 
Que na primeira vista o pasmo ordena. 
Que nem as louve a voz, nem pinte a penna. 
Tal cumprimento tem qualquer dos lados 
Que os grandes Canzarões mais alentados, 
Vistos d'hu n'outro extremo mais, ou menos 
Cachorrinhos parecem mui pequenos. 

No frontispício a bella arquitectura 
Brilha com tão distincta formosura, 
Que julgo ser (e nisto bem me fundo) 
JVlaravilha maior de todo o Mundo. 

As ordens tosca Dórica, e Composta, 
A Jónica, a Corinthia bem disposta, 
Tudo se vê com gosto executado 
■ No grau mais singular, mais levantado. 

Columnas de grandeza portentosa 
No pórtico maior a vista goza 
Nas três portas soberbas, que na entrada 
Á perspectiva formão da fachada. 

Mil estatuas de mármores polidos, 

O chão todo em xadrez com embutidos. 



PORTUGUESES 61 

As torres, que nos lados vão subindo, 
Mil sinos pelos ares retinindo, 
Que sendo por mão destra ali tocados, 
Os minuetes formão bem trinados. 
Distinguem-se também nesta fachada. 
Por maravilha grande, e subhmada, 
Dois grandes torreões, que na grandeza 
Outros não tem a vasta redondeza. 
Hum zimbório soberbo, e sumptuoso, 
Que na Região Etherea do ventoso, 
E sublime hemisfério vai tocando 
As nuvens, que nos ares vão girando. 
De festões adornado, e bellas flores 
Formadas em diversas lindas cores, 
De pedras muito finas, e polidas. 
Na Região do vento suspendidas. 

O Senhor, que erigio este Edificio, 
Nos mesmos torreões do frontispício 
Mandou, que Paço Régio se fizesse, 
Que a seu grande poder correspondesse; 
No qual respira, sem contradição, 
A grandeza de hum Régio coração. 
Que a fama ha de cantar cõ gosto, e gloria, 
Emquanto neste mundo houver memoria. 

Quem era João Jorge de Carvalho? Nada se sabe 
a este respeito. Inocêncio baldou quantas diligências 
fez para averiguá-lo, e eu nào fui mais feliz. 

Vê-se que era homem regularmente instruído, por- 
que intercala no texto versos franceses e espanhóis. 
Também se vê que conhecia bem a Beira-Baixa, Coim- 
bra, Mafra, Ericeira e os arredores destas duas povoa- 
ções; mas nào é lícito concluir do poema que o autor 



62 POEMAS HERÓI-CÓMICOS 

fosse natural ou habitante de Mafra, antes me parece 
dever inferir-se de uma nota (a pág. 84 da 1.^ edição) 
que compusera a- Gaticanea longe dali, talvez em 
Lisboa. 

Por intermédio de um amigo meu, o amável pároco 
de Mafra rebuscou o registo dos óbitos daquela fre- 
guesia e apenas apurou que num dos lugares mais 
afastados da vila houve um João Jorge, que faleceu 
em 1769 e era viúvo de Antónia Rodrigues, o qual 
teve um sobrinho, cujo nome se não menciona. 

Seria arrojada hipótese supor que este sobrinho 
fosse homónimo do tio e autor do poema, tanto mais 
que a tradição oral em Mafra não conserva memória 
alguma do autor da Gaticanea. ^ 

GENEALOGIA PAPERIFERA, ou verdadeira arvore 
da geração do ill."^^ snr. D. Papel; Lisboa, 1811. 

O autor, João Pinheiro Freire da Cunha, foi pro- 
fessor de gramática latina e portuguesa em Lisboa, 
sua pátria, onde instituiu uma Academia Ortográfica 

GRAVES NADAS, poema heroi-comico, sequencia do 
Hyssope, por Teophilo Braga: na 2.^ edição das Folhas 
verdes. Porto, 1869. 

O ^sunto é tirado da 2.^ parte do «Argumento» 
do Hissope — isto é, relativo ao tempo em que o so- 
brinho do Deão, sucedendo-lhe neste cargo, continuou 
o pleito até que o Bispo, cheio de terror, se retratou. 

O poema, em verso solto, abrange 4 cantos; nêle 
figuram algumas das personagens do Hissope. 




Teófilo Braga elaborou-o antes de 1860, e cha- 
ma-lhe «velleidade de criança>. 

Aditou-o com várias notas extraídas do Ms. da 
Universidade a que nos referimos no Hissope, 
quando 
mencionamos a edição deste poema feita pelo dr. Rodrigo Veloso. 

GREGOREIDA ou Aventuras d'um filho d' Alijó dos 
Vinhos em Lisboa, durante as festas do centenário de 
Camões. Poema em oitava-rima composto 
e escrito por 
Gregório Antunes Falcào, substituto do escrivão do 
juiz ordinário d'aquella importante comarca e copiado 
do original manuscripto pelos siamezes do Occidente, 
Castor & Pollux. Lisboa, 1880. 

Este poema conta as supostas impressões do seu 
autor na visita que fez à capital por motivo do tri- 
centenário de Camões. Contém 57 oitavas, em boa 
metrificação, e com benigna maledicência. 

Refere-se ao cortejo cívico e a algumas individua- 
lidades do mundo político e literário. 

Numa só oitava inclui a comissão executiva das 
festas camoneanas em Lisboa: 

A toda a gente causa grande espanto 
Do Eduardinho 1 a calva monstruosa, 
Do Luciano 2 o queixo a vêr-se tanto, 
Do Chagas 3 as bochechas côr de rosa; 


O assunto da paródia, como o título indica, sào 
os acontecimentos, principalmente políticos, daquele 
século em Portugal. 

Os asnos Figurões assignalados, 

Que da classe dos getas e bananas, 

Por motivos já bem justificados 

Passai am inda alem dos fofos Tanas ; 

Em certo dia muito apouquentados, 

Mais do que julgam almas sempre humanas, 

Entre Vianna e Vallada edificaram 

Novo Reino, que tanto sublimaram. 

E também as memorias gloriosas 

D'aquelles taes, que foram dilatando 

A má fé; e as alminhas generosas 

Andaram de Lisboa embarrilando: 

E esses que por obras cavillosas 

Se vão da pelintrice libertando; '>^ 

Cantando espalharei por toda a parte, 

Se a tanto me ajudar o engenho e arte. 

O sr. Almeida era muito conhecido na república 
das letras, como autor de dicionários, tais como: o 
das Sete línguas, o Illustrado, etc. 

Em 1884 deu este autor ao prelo a continuação 
da paródia, que ficou abrangendo dois tomos. 



Les Lusiades travesties, parodie 
en vers burlesques, 
grotesques et sérieux 
Voyage maritime et pedestre du 



grrrand portugais Vasco de Gama par 
J. R. M. Scarron 11. Porto, 1883. 

É um sumário humorístico dos Lusíadas. 

Na variante de género é que está o travestissement. 

O autor tinha o apelido de Mesnier, era já velho, 
e residia no Porto, na rua de Cima de Vila. 

Creio que era pai do sr. gastão Mesnier. 

Sua mulher achava-se ausente no Brasil. A ela de- 
dica o autor, saudosamente, êsíe trabalho literário. 

Na invocação dirige-se Mesnier a Camões, cujo 
auxílio implora: 

Et toi, Grand Camoens, exhausse mon désir, 
Prête moi ton secours, tu me feras plaisir, 
Aide moi dans ce jour, et lance dans ma veine, 
Le souffle Olympien, de ta divine haleine! 

O texto da paródia é composto em alexandrinos 
pareados, mas divididos quatro a quatro. 
Propõe o autor o assunto dizendo: 

Je chante le héros d'un tout petit pays, « 
Les trois petits bateaux, ou pressés, reunis, 
Sont cent quarante huit, serres comme sardines, 
Mais tous forís et nerveux, pourvus de bonnes mines. 
Pour tout bien, leur valeur, de vigoureux gaillards 
Volant à la fortune, aux perils, aux hazards, 
Quittérent, un beau jour, les riants bords du Tage, 
Pour affronter les mers, la tempête et Torage. 

II falait bien qu'ils soient comme un certain marin, 
Qu' Horace dit avoir le cocur doublé d'airain. 

Au moment de partir, vient un vieux rabaclieur 
Qui, je ne sais pourquoi, voudrait leur faire peur; 
II airive et se tient sur le bord du rivage, 
Puis d'une grosse voix, qui fait trembler le Tage, 

II leur dit doucement, etc. 

Por uma das poesias líricas, que vêem em seguida 
à paródia, sabe-se que o sr. Mesnier, ao cabo de 
quarenta anos de residência no Porto, foi juntar-se 
com sua mulher no Brasil. 

Despedindo-se enternecidamente daquela cidade, 
diz êl^: 

Dans tes murs glorieux, tous mes enfants sont nés, 
Dans ton champ de repôs, plusieurs sont inhumés!. 
Cest après quarante ans de tranquille existence, 
Qu'il me faut te laisser, presque sans esperance 
De te revoir, un jour. . . 

dissabte, 29 de novembre del 2014

ESPAÇO MAR TENEBROSO DO VAZIO CARREGADO (E PEJADO TINHA FICADO MELHOR) DE ESCOLHOS INFINITESIMAIS ...SINTO-ME SEM SENTIR TODO ABRASADO NO RIGOROSO FOGO QUE ME ALENTA ...O MAL QUE ME CONSOME E ME SUSTENTA O BEM QUE ME ENTRETEM E DÁ CUIDADO



Sinto-me, sem sentir, todo abrasado

No rigoroso fogo que me alenta;


O mal, que me consome, me sustenta,


O bem, que me entretém, me dá cuidado;


Ando sem me mover, falo calado,


O que mais perto vejo se me ausenta,


E o que estou sem ver mais me atormenta,


Alegro-me de ver-me atormentado;


Coro no mesmo ponto em que me rio,


No mor risco me anima a confiança,


Do que menos se espera estou mais certo;


Mas se de confiado desconfio,


É porque entre os receios da mudança


Ando perdido em mim, como em deserto.








António Barbosa Bacelar

dimarts, 11 de novembre del 2014

THE ELEVEN OF ELEVEN IN A TEN SCALE - DERRIDA AI NA CORRIDA Beyond these two types of war (civil and international) whose dividing line cannot even be distinguished any longer, let us blacken still more the picture of this wearing down beyond wear. Let us name with a single trait that which could risk making the euphoria ofliberal-democrat capitalism resemble the blindest and most delirious of hallucinations, or even an increasingly glaring hypocrisy in its formal or juriditist rhetoric of human rights.11 novembre de 2014 11:27 If one were permitted to name these plagues of the "new world order" in a ten-word telegram, one might perhaps choose the following ten words. 1. Unemployment, that more or less well-calculated deregulation of a new market, new technologies, new worldwide WEARS AND TEARS 101 competitiveness, would no doubt, like labor or production, deserve another name today All the more so in that tele-work inscribes there a new set of givens that perturbs both the methods of traditional calculation and the conceptual opposition between work and non-work, activity, employment, and their contrary. This regubr deregulation is at once mastered, calculated, "socialized" (that is, most often disavowed), and irreducible to prediction-like suffering itself, a suffering that suffers still more, and more obscurely, for having lost its habitual models and language once it no longer recognizes itself in the old word unemployment and in the scene that word named for so long. The function of social inactivity, of non-work or of underemployment is entering into a new era. It calls for another politics. And another concept. The "new unemployment" no more resembles unemployment, in the very forms of its experience and its calculation, than what in France is called the "new poverty" resembles poverty. il 2. The massive exclusion of homeless citizens from any participation in the democratic life of States, the expulsion or deportation of so many exiles, stateless persons, and immigrants from a so-called national territory already herald a new experience of frontiers and identity-whether national or civil. 3. The ruthless economic war among the countries of the European Community themselves, between them and the Eastern European countries, between Europe and the United States, and between Europe, the United States, and Japan. This war controls everything, beginning with the other wars, because it controls the practical interpretation and an inconsistent and unequal application of international law. There have been too many examples in the last decade or more. 4. The inability to master the contradictions in the concept, norms, and reality of the free market (the barriers of a protectionism and the interventionist bidding wars of capitalist States seeking to protect their nationals, or even Westerners ResponElimina or Europeans in general, from cheap labor, which often has no comparable social protection). How is one to save one's own interests in the global market while claiming to protect one's "social advantages" and so forth? 5. The aggravation of the foreign debt and other connected mechanisms are starving or driving to despair a large portion of humanity. They tend thus to exclude it simultaneously from the very market that this logic nevertheless seeks to extend. This type of contradiction works through many geopolitical fluctuations even when they appear to be dictated by the discourse of democratization or human rights. 6. The arms industry and trade (whether it be "conventional" arms or at the cutting edge of tele-technological sophistication) are inscribed in the normal regulation of the scientific research, economy, and socialization of labor in Western democracies. Short of an unimaginable revolution, they cannot be suspended or even cut back without running major risks, beginning with the worsening of the said unemployment. As for arms trafficking, to the (limited) degree that it can still be distinguished from "normal" commerce, it remains the largest in the world, larger than the drug traffic, from which it is not always dissociated. 7 The spread ("dissemination") ofnucleat weapons, maintained by the very countries that say they want to protect themselves from it, is no longer even controllable, as was the case for a long time, by statist structures. It exceeds not only statist control but every declared market. 8. Inter-ethnic wars (have there ever been another kind?) are proliferating, driven by an archaic phantasm and concept, by a primitive conceptual phantasm of community, the nation-State, sovereignty, borders, native soil and blood. Archaism is not a bad thing in itself, it doubtless keeps some irreducible resource. But how can one deny that this conceptual phantasm is, so to speak, made more outdated than ever, in the very ontopology it supposes, by tele-technic dis-location? (By ontopology we meanan axiomatics linking indissociably the ontological value of present ~ being [on] to its situation, to the stable and presentable determination of a locality, the topos of territory, native soil, city, body in general). For having spread in an unheard-of fashion, which is more and more differentiated and more and more accelerated (it is acceleration itself, beyond the norms of speed that have until now informed human culture), the process of dislocation is no less arch-originary, that is, just as "archaic" as the archaism that it has always dislodged. This process is, moreover, the positive condition of the stabilization that it constantly relaunches. All stability in a place being but a stabilization or a sedentarization, it will have to have been necessary that the local difl'erance, the spacing of a displacement gives the movement its start. And gives place and gives rise [donne lieu]. All national rootedness, for example, is rooted first of all in the memory or the anxiety of a displaced-or displaceable-population. It is not only time that is "out of joint," but space in time, spacing. ~ 9. How can one ignore the growing and undelimitable, that is, worldwide power of those super-efficient and properly capitalist phantom-States that are the mafia and the drug cartels on every continent, including in the former so-called socialist States of Eastern Europe? These phantom-States have infiltrated and banalized themselves everywhere, to the point that they can no longer be strictly identified. Nor even sometimes clearly dissociated from the processes of democratization (think-for example -of the schema, telegraphically Simplified here, that would associate them with the history-of-a-Sicilian-mafia-harassedby- the-fascism -of-the-Mussolinian-State-thus-intimately -andsymbiotically -allied -to-the-Allies-in -the-democratic -camp-onboth- sides-of-the-Atlantic-as-well-as-in-the-reconstructionof. the-Italian-Christian-democratic-State-which-has-todayentered- into-a-new-configuration-of-capital, about which the least one can say is that we will understand nothing of what is happening there if we do not take account of its genealogy). All11 novembre de 2014 11:29 these infiltrations are going through a "critical" phase, as one says, which is no doubt what allows us to talk about them or to begin their analysis. These phantom-States invade not only the socio-economic fabric, the general circulation of capital, but also statist or inter-statist institutions. 10. For above all, above all, one would have to analyze the present state of international law and of its institutions. Despite a fortunate perfectibility, despite an undeniable progress, these international institutions suffer from at least two limits. The first and most radical of the two stems from the fact that their norms, their charter, the definition of their mission depend on a certain historical culture. They cannot be dissociated from certain European philosophical concepts, and notably from a concept of State or national sovereignty whose genealogical closure is more and more evident, not only in a theoreticojuridical or speculative fashion, but concretely, practically, and practically quotidian. Another limit is strictly linked to the first: This supposedly universal international law remains, in its application, largely dominated by particular nation-States. Almost always their techno-economic and military power prepares and applies, in other words, carries the decision. As one says in English, it makes the decision. Countless examples, "recent or not so recent, would amply demonstrate this, whether it is a question of deliberations and resolutions of the United Nations or of the putting into practice or the "enforcement" of these decisions: the incoherence, discontinuity, inequality of States before the law, the hegemony of certain States over military power in the service of international law, this is what, year after year, day after day, we are forced to acknowledge.4 These facts do not suffice to disqualify international institutions. Justice demands, on the contrary, that one pay tribute to certain of those who are working within them in the direction of the perfectibility and emancipation of institutions that must never be renounced. However insufficient, confused, or equivocal such signs may still be, we should salute what is heralded today in the reflection on the right of interference or intervention in the name of what is obscurely and sometimes hypocritically called the humanitarian, thereby limiting the sovereignty of the State in certain conditions. Let us salute such signs even as one remains vigilantly on guard against the manipulations or appropriations to which these novelties can be subjected.

Marxist "spirit" to criticize the presumed autonomy of the
juridical and to denounce endlessly the de facto take-over of
international authorities by powerful Nation-States, by concentrations
of techno-scientific capital, symbolic capital, and financial
capital, of State capital and private capital. A "new international"
is being sought through these crises of international
law; it already denounces the limits of a discourse on human
rights that will remain inadequate, sometimes hypocritical, and
in any case formalistic and inconsistent with itself as long as the
law of the market, the "foreign debt," the inequality of technoscientific,
military, and economic development maintain an
effective inequality as monstrous as that which prevails today, to
a greater extent than ever in the history of humanity. For it must
be cried out, at a time when some have the audacity to neoevangelize
in the name of the ideal of a liberal democracy that
has finally realized itself as the ideal of human history: never
have violence, inequality, exclusion, famine, and thus economic
oppression affected as many human beings in the history of the
earth and humanity Instead of singing the advent of the ideal of
liberal democracy and of the capitalist market in the euphoria of
the end of history, instead of celebrating the "end of ideologies"
and the end of the great emancipatory discourses, let us never
neglect this obvious macroscopic fact, made up of innumerable
singular sites of suffering: no degree of progress allows one to
ignore that never before, in absolute figures, never have so many
men, women, and children been subjugated, starved, or
exterminated on the earth. (And proviSionally, but with regret,
we must leave aside here the nevertheless indissociable question
of what is becoming of so-called "animal" life, the life and
existence of "animals" in this history. This question has always
been a serious one, but it will become massively unavoidable.)
The "New International" is not only that which is seeking
a new international law through these crimes. It is a link of
affinity, suffering, and hope, a still discreet, almost secret link,
as it was around 1848, but more and more visible, we have
more than one sign of it. It is an untimely link, without status, without tide OR TIDAL FORCES OR OMO OR AJAX ...OR MÊME TITLE , and without name, barely public even
if it is not clandestine, without contract, "out of joint," without
coordination, without party, without country, without
national community (International before, across, and beyond
any national determination), without co-citizenship, without
common belonging to a class. The name of new International is
given here to what calls to the friendship of an alliance without
institution among those who, even if they no longer believe or
never believed in the socialist-Marxist International, in the dictatorship
of the proletariat, in the messiano-eschatological role of
the universal union of the proletarians of all lands, continue to
be inspired by at least one of the spirits of Marx or of Marxism
(they now know that there is more than one) and in order to ally
themselves, in a new, concrete, and real way, even if this alliance
no longer takes the form of a party or of a workers' international,
but rather of a kind of counter-conjuration, in the
(theoretical and practical) critique of the state of internationali
law, the concepts of State and nation, and so forth: in order to
renew this critique, and especially to radicalize it.
There are at least two ways to interpret what we have just called
the "black-board picture," the ten plagues, the mourning and
promise it announces while pretending to expose or to count.
Between these two interpretations, which are at once in competition
and incompatible, how is one to choose? Why can we
not choose? Why must we not choose? In both cases, it is a
matter of fidelity to a certain spirit of Marxism: one, this one,
and not the other.
1. The nrst interpretation, the most classical and paradoxical at
the same time, would still remain within the idealist logic of
Fukuyama. But so as to draw other consequences. Let us accept
provisionally the hypothesis that all that is going badly in the
world today is but a measure of the gap between an empirical
reality and a regulating ideal, whether the latter is defined as
Fukuyama does or whether one refines and transforms the
concept. The value and the obviousness of the ideal would not
be compromised, intrinsically, by the historical inadequation of
empirical realities. Well, even within this idealist hypothesis, the
recourse to a certain spirit of the Marxist critique remains urgent
and will have to remain indefinitely necessary in order to
denounce and reduce the gap as much as possible, in order to adjust
"reality" to the "ideal" in the course of a necessarily infinite
process. This Marxist critique can still be fruitful if one knows
how to adapt it to new conditions, whether it is a matter of new
modes of production, of the appropriation of economic and
techno-scientific powers and knowledge, of juridical formality
in the discourse and the practices of national or international
law, of new problems of citizenship and nationality, and so forth.
2. The second interpretation of the blackboard picture would obey
another logiC. Beyond the "facts," beyond the supposed "empirical
evidence, beyond all that is inadequate to the ideal, it
would be a question of putting into question again, in certain of
its essential predicates, the very concept of the said ideal. This
would extend, for example, to the economic analysis of the market,
the laws of capital, of types of capital (financial or symbolic,
therefore spectral), liberal parliamentary democracy, modes of
representation and suffrage, the determining content of human
rights, women's and children's rights,6 the current concepts of
equality, liberty, especially fraternity (the most problematic of
all), dignity, the relations between man and citizen. It would also
extend, in the quasi-totality of these concepts, to the concept
of the human (therefore of the divine and the animal) and to
a determined concept of the democratic that supposes it (let us
not say of all democracy or, precisely Dustement], of democracy
to come). Now, even in this last hypothesis, fidelity to the
inheritance of a certain Marxist spirit would remain a duty.
Here are two different reasons to be faithful to a spirit of
Marxism. They must not be added together but intertwined.
They must be implicated with each other in the course of a
WEARSANDTEARS 109
complex and constantly re-evaluated strategy. There will be no
re-politicization, there will be no politics otherwise. Without
this strategy, each of the two reasons could lead back to the
worst, to worse than the bad, if one can put it that way, namely
to a sort of fatalist idealism or abstract and dogmatic eschatology
in the face of the world's evil.
Which Marxist spirit, then? It is easy to imagine why we will
not please the Marxists, and still less all the others, by insisting in
this way on the spirit of Marxism, especially if we let it be understood
that we intend to understand spirits in the plural and in the
sense of specters, of untimely specters that one must not chase
away but sort out, critique, keep close by, and allow to come
back. And of course, we must never hide from the fact that the
principle of selectivity which will have to gUide and hierarchize
among the "spirits" will fatally exclude in its turn. It will even
annhilate, by watching (over) its ancestors rather than (over) fi>
certain others. 7 At this moment rather than at some other
moment. By forgetfulness (guilty or innocent, it little matters
here), by foreclosure or murder, this watch itself will engender
new ghosts. It will do so by chOOSing already among the
ghosts, its own from among its own, thus by killing the dead:
law of finitude, law of decision and responsibility for finite
existences, the only living-mortals for whom a decision, a
choice, a responsibility has meaning and a meaning that will
have to pass through the ordeal of the undecidable. Which is
why what we are saying here will not please anyone. But who
ever said that someone ever had to speak, think, or write in order
to please someone else? And if one interprets the gesture we are
risking here as a belated-rallying-to-Marxism, then one would
have to have misunderstood quite badly. It is true, however, that I
would be today, here, now, less insensitive than ever to the
appeal of the contretemps or of being out-of-step, as well as to
the style of an untimeliness that is more manifest and more
urgent than ever. Already I hear people saying: "you picked a good time to salute Marx!" 
Or else: "It's about time!"
 "Why QUANTUM OF SOLACE so late?" I believe in the political virtue of the contretemps. And if a
contretemps does not have the good luck, a more or less calculated
luck, to come just in time, then the inopportuneness of a
strategy (political or other) may still bear witness, precisely Dustement],
to justice, bear witness, at least, to the justice which is
demanded and about which we were saying a moment ago that
it must be disadjusted, irreducible to exactness Dustesse] and to
law. But that is not the decisive motivation here and we need
finally to break with the simplism of these slogans. What is
certain is that I am not a Marxist, as someone said a long time
ago, let us recall, in a witticism reported by Engels. Must we still
cite Marx as an authority in order to say "I am not a Marxist"?
What is the distinguishing trait of a Marxist statement? And who
can still say "I am a Marxist"?
To continue to take inspiration from a certain spirit of Marxism
would be to keep faith with what has always made of Marxism in
principle and first of all a radical critique, namely a procedure
ready to undertake its self-critique. This critique wants itself to
be in principle and explicitly open to its own transformation,

re-evaluation, self-reinterpretation.

diumenge, 9 de novembre del 2014

There are those, it may be contended, who are not, and never will be, worth a full efficiency wage. Whatever is done to secure them such a remuneration will only involve net loss. Hence it violates our standard of economic justice. It involves payment for a function of more than it is actually worth, and the discrepancy might be so great as to cripple society. It must,[Pg 206] of course, be admitted that the population contains a certain percentage of the physically incapable, the mentally defective, and the morally uncontrolled. The treatment of these classes, all must agree, is and must be based on other principles than those of economics. One class requires punitive discipline, another needs life-long care, a third—the mentally and morally sound but physically defective—must depend, to its misfortune, on private and public charity. There is no question here of payment for a function, but of ministering to human suffering. It is, of course, desirable on economic as well as on broader grounds that the ministration should be so conceived as to render its object as nearly as possible independent and self-supporting. But in the main all that is done for these classes of the population is, and must be, a charge on the surplus. The real question that may be raised by a critic is whether the considerable proportion of the working class whose earnings actually fall short, as we should contend, of the minimum, could in point of fact earn that minimum. Their actual value, he may urge, is measured by the wage which[Pg 207] they do in fact command in the competitive market, and if their wage falls short of the standard society may make good the deficiency if it will and can, but must not shut its eyes to the fact that in doing so it is performing, not an act of economic justice, but of charity. To this the reply is that the price which naked labour without property can command in bargaining with employers who possess property is no measure at all of the addition which such labour can actually make to wealth. The bargain is unequal, and low remuneration is itself a cause of low efficiency which in turn tends to react unfavourably on remuneration. Conversely, a general improvement in the conditions of life reacts favourably on the productivity of labour. Real wages have risen considerably in the last half century, but the income-tax returns indicate that the wealth of the business and professional man has increased even more rapidly. Up to the efficiency minimum there is, then, every reason to think that a general increase of wages would positively increase the available surplus whether that surplus goes to individuals as profits or to the State as[Pg 208] national revenue. The material improvement of working-class conditions will more than pay its way regarded purely as an economic investment on behalf of society. This conclusion is strengthened if we consider narrowly what elements of cost the "living wage" ought in principle to cover. We are apt to assume uncritically that the wages earned by the labour of an adult man ought to suffice for the maintenance of an average family, providing for all risks. It ought, we think, to cover not only the food and clothing of wife and children, but the risks of sickness, accident, and unemployment. It ought to provide for education and lay by for old age. If it fails we are apt to think that the wage earner is not self supporting. Now, it is certainly open to doubt whether the actual addition to wealth made by an unskilled labourer denuded of all inherited property would equal the cost represented by the sum of these items. But here our further principle comes into play. He ought not to be denuded of all inherited property. As a citizen he should have a certain share in the social inheritance. This share should be his support[Pg 209] in the times of misfortune, of sickness, and of worklessness, whether due to economic disorganization or to invalidity and old age. His children's share, again, is the State-provided education. These shares are charges on the social surplus. It does not, if fiscal arrangements are what they should be, infringe upon the income of other individuals, and the man who without further aid than the universally available share in the social inheritance which is to fall to him as a citizen pays his way through life is to be justly regarded as self-supporting. The central point of Liberal economics, then, is the equation of social service and reward. This is the principle that every function of social value requires such remuneration as serves to stimulate and maintain its effective performance; that every one who performs such a function has the right, in the strict ethical sense of that term, to such remuneration and to no more; that the residue of existing wealth should be at the disposal of the community for social purposes. Further, it is the right, in the same sense, of every person capable of performing some useful social [Pg 210]function that he should have the opportunity of so doing, and it is his right that the remuneration that he receives for it should be his property, i. e. that it should stand at his free disposal enabling him to direct his personal concerns according to his own preferences. These are rights in the sense that they are conditions of the welfare of its members which a well-ordered State will seek by every means to fulfil. But it is not suggested that the way of such fulfilment is plain, or that it could be achieved at a stroke by a revolutionary change in the tenure of property or the system of industry. It is, indeed, implied that the State is vested with a certain overlordship over property in general and a supervisory power over industry in general, and this principle of economic sovereignty may be set side by side with that of economic justice as a no less fundamental conception of economic Liberalism. For here, as elsewhere, liberty implies control. But the manner in which the State is to exercise its controlling power is to be learnt by experience and even in large measure by cautious experiment. We have sought to determine the [Pg 211]principle which should guide its action, the ends at which it is to aim. The systematic study of the means lies rather within the province of economics; and the teaching of history seems to be that progress is more continuous and secure when men are content to deal with problems piecemeal than when they seek to destroy root and branch in order to erect a complete system which has captured the imagination. It is evident that these conceptions embody many of the ideas that go to make up the framework of Socialist teaching, though they also emphasize elements of individual right and personal independence, of which Socialism at times appears oblivious. The distinction that I would claim for economic Liberalism is that it seeks to do justice to the social and individual factors in industry alike, as opposed to an abstract Socialism which emphasizes the one side and an abstract Individualism which leans its whole weight on the other. By keeping to the conception of harmony as our clue we constantly define the rights of the individual in terms of the common good, and think of the common good in terms of the welfare of[Pg 212] all the individuals who constitute a society. Thus in economics we avoid the confusion of liberty with competition, and see no virtue in the right of a man to get the better of others. At the same time we are not led to minimize the share of personal initiative, talent, or energy in production, but are free to contend for their claim to adequate recognition. A Socialist who is convinced of the logical coherence and practical applicability of his system may dismiss such endeavours to harmonize divergent claims as a half-hearted and illogical series of compromises. It is equally possible that a Socialist who conceives Socialism as consisting in essence in the co-operative organization of industry by consumers, and is convinced that the full solution of industrial problems lies in that direction, should in proportion as he considers the psychological factors in production and investigates the means of realizing his ideal, find himself working back along the path to a point where he will meet the men who are grappling with the problems of the day on the principles here suggested, and will find himself able to move forward in practice in the front ranks of economic Liberalism. If this is so, the growing co-operation of political Liberalism[Pg 213] and Labour, which in the last few years has replaced the antagonism of the 'nineties, is no mere accident of temporary political convenience, but has its roots deep in the necessities of Democracy. FOOTNOTE: [12] It is true that so long as it remains possible for a certain order of ability to earn £50,000 a year, the community will not obtain its services for £5,000. But if things should be so altered by taxation and economic reorganization that £5,000 became in practice the highest limit attainable, and remained attainable even for the ablest only by effort, there is no reason to doubt that that effort would be forthcoming. It is not the absolute amount of remuneration, but the increment of remuneration in proportion to the output of industrial or commercial capacity, which serves as the needed stimulus to energyMuch more difficult in principle is the question of the more general elements of social value which run through production as a whole. We are dealing here with factors so intricately interwoven in their operation that[Pg 194] they can only be separated by an indirect process. What this process would be we may best understand by imagining for a moment a thoroughgoing centralized organization of the industrial system endeavouring to carry out the principles of remuneration outlined above. The central authority which we imagine as endowed with such wisdom and justice as to find for every man his right place and to assign to every man his due reward would, if our argument is sound, find it necessary to assign to each producer, whether working with hand or brain, whether directing a department of industry or serving under direction, such remuneration as would stimulate him to put forth his best efforts and would maintain him in the condition necessary for the life-long exercise of his function. If we are right in considering that a great part of the wealth produced from year to year is of social origin, it would follow that, after the assignment of this remuneration, there would remain a surplus, and this would fall to the coffers of the community and be available for public purposes, for national defence, public works, education, charity, and the furtherance of civilized life. [Pg 195] Now, this is merely an imaginary picture, and I need not ask whether such a measure of wisdom on the part of a Government is practically attainable, or whether such a measure of centralization might not carry consequences which would hamper progress in other directions. The picture serves merely to illustrate the principles of equitable distribution by which the State should be guided in dealing with property. It serves to define our conception of economic justice, and therewith the lines on which we should be guided in the adjustment of taxation and the reorganization of industry. I may illustrate its bearing by taking a couple of cases. One important source of private wealth under modern conditions is speculation. Is this also a source of social wealth? Does it produce anything for society? Does it perform a function for which our ideal administration would think it necessary to pay? I buy some railway stock at 110. A year or two later I seize a favourable opportunity and sell it at 125. Is the increment earned or unearned? The answer in the single case is clear, but it may be said that my good fortune in this case may be balanced by ill luck[Pg 196] in another. No doubt. But, to go no further, if on balance I make a fortune or an income by this method it would seem to be a fortune or an income not earned by productive service. To this it may be replied that the buyers and sellers of stocks are indirectly performing the function of adjusting demand and supply, and so regulating industry. So far as they are expert business men trained in the knowledge of a particular market this may be so. So far as they dabble in the market in the hope of profiting from a favourable turn, they appear rather as gamblers. I will not pretend to determine which of the two is the larger class. I would point out only that, on the face of the facts, the profits derived from this particular source appear to be rather of the nature of a tax which astute or fortunate individuals are able to levy on the producer than as the reward which they obtain for a definite contribution on their own part to production. There are two possible empirical tests of this view. One is that a form of collective organization should be devised which should diminish the importance of the speculative market. Our principle would suggest the propriety of an attempt in that direction[Pg 197] whenever opportunity offers. Another would be the imposition of a special tax on incomes derived from this source, and experience would rapidly show whether any such tax would actually hamper the process of production and distribution at any stage. If not, it would justify itself. It would prove that the total profit now absorbed by individuals exceeds, at least by the amount of the tax, the remuneration necessary to maintain that particular economic function. The other case I will take is that of inherited wealth. This is the main determining factor in the social and economic structure of our time. It is clear on our principle that it stands in quite a different position from that of wealth which is being created from day to day. It can be defended only on two grounds. One is prescriptive right, and the difficulty of disturbing the basis of the economic order. This provides an unanswerable argument against violent and hasty methods, but no argument at all against a gentle and slow-moving policy of economic reorganization. The other argument is that inherited wealth serves several indirect [Pg 198]functions. The desire to provide for children and to found a family is a stimulus to effort.


THE FUTURE OF LIBERALISM

The nineteenth century might be called the age of Liberalism, yet its close saw the fortunes of that great movement brought to their lowest ebb. Whether at home or abroad those who represented Liberal ideas had suffered crushing defeats. But this was the least considerable of the causes for anxiety. If Liberals had been defeated, something much worse seemed about to befall Liberalism. Its faith in itself was waxing cold. It seemed to have done its work. It had the air of a creed that is becoming fossilized as an extinct form, a fossil that occupied, moreover, an awkward position between two very active and energetically moving grindstones—the upper grindstone of plutocratic imperialism, and the nether grindstone of social democracy. "We know all about you," these parties seemed to say to Liberalism; "we have been right through you[Pg 215] and come out on the other side. Respectable platitudes, you go maundering on about Cobden and Gladstone, and the liberty of the individual, and the rights of nationality, and government by the people. What you say is not precisely untrue, but it is unreal and uninteresting." So far in chorus. "It is not up to date," finished the Imperialist, and the Socialist bureaucrat. "It is not bread and butter," finished the Social democrat. Opposed in everything else, these two parties agreed in one thing. They were to divide the future between them. Unfortunately, however, for their agreement, the division was soon seen to be no equal one. Whatever might be the ultimate recuperative power of Social Democracy, for the time being, in the paralysis of Liberalism, the Imperial reaction had things all to itself. The governing classes of England were to assert themselves. They were to consolidate the Empire, incidentally passing the steam roller over two obstructive republics. They were to "teach the law" to the "sullen new-caught peoples" abroad. They were to re-establish the Church at home by the endowment of doctrinal education. At the same time they were to establish[Pg 216] the liquor interest—which is, after all, the really potent instrument of government from above. They were to bind the colonies to us by ties of fiscal preference, and to establish the great commercial interests on the basis of protection. Their government, as conceived by the best exponents of the new doctrine, was by no means to be indifferent to the humanitarian claims of the social conscience. They were to deal out factory acts, and establish wages boards. They were to make an efficient and a disciplined people. In the idea of discipline the military element rapidly assumed a greater prominence. But on this side the evolution of opinion passed through two well-marked phases. The first was the period of optimism and expansion. The Englishman was the born ruler of the world. He might hold out a hand of friendship to the German and the American, whom he recognized as his kindred and who lived within the law. The rest of the world was peopled by dying nations whose manifest destiny was to be "administered" by the coming races, and exploited by their commercial syndicates. This mood of optimism did not survive the South African War. It received its death-blow at Colenso[Pg 217] and Magersfontein, and within a few years fear had definitely taken the place of ambition as the mainspring of the movement to national and imperial consolidation. The Tariff Reform movement was largely inspired by a sense of insecurity in our commercial position. The half-patronizing friendship for Germany rapidly gave way, first to commercial jealousy, and then to unconcealed alarm for our national safety. All the powers of society were bent on lavish naval expenditure, and of imposing the idea of compulsory service on a reluctant people. The disciplined nation was needed no longer to dominate the world, but to maintain its own territory.
Now, we are not concerned here to follow up the devious windings of modern Conservatism. We have to note only that what modern democracy has to face is no mere inertia of tradition. It is a distinct reactionary policy with a definite and not incoherent creed of its own, an ideal which in its best expression—for example, in the daily comments of the Morning Post—is certain to exercise a powerful attraction on many generous minds—the ideal of the efficient, disciplined nation, centre and dominating force of a powerful, self-contained,[Pg 218] militant empire. What concerns us more particularly is the reaction of Conservative development upon the fortunes of democracy. But to understand this reaction, and, indeed, to make any sound estimate of the present position and prospects of Liberalism, we must cast a rapid glance over the movement of progressive thought during the last generation. When Gladstone formed his second Government in 1880 the old party system stood secure in Great Britain. It was only a band of politicians from the other side of St. George's Channel who disowned both the great allegiances. For the British political mind the plain distinction of Liberal and Conservative held the field, and the division was not yet a class distinction. The great Whig families held their place, and they of the aristocratic houses divided the spoil. But a new leaven was at work. The prosperity which had culminated in 1872 was passing away. Industrial progress slowed down; and, though the advance from the "Hungry 'Forties" had been immense, men began to see the limit of what they could reasonably expect from retrenchment and Free Trade. The work of Mr. Henry George awakened new interest in[Pg 219] problems of poverty, and the idealism of William Morris gave new inspiration to Socialist propaganda. Meanwhile, the teaching of Green and the enthusiasm of Toynbee were setting Liberalism free from the shackles of an individualist conception of liberty and paving the way for the legislation of our own time. Lastly, the Fabian Society brought Socialism down from heaven and established a contact with practical politics and municipal government. Had Great Britain been an island in the mid-Pacific the onward movement would have been rapid and undeviating in its course. As it was, the new ideas were reflected in the parliament and the cabinet of 1880-1885, and the Radicalism of Birmingham barely kept on terms with the Whiggery of the clubs. A redistribution of social forces which would amalgamate the interests of "property" on the one side and those of democracy on the other was imminent, and on social questions democracy reinforced by the enfranchisement of the rural labourers in 1884 stood to win. At this stage the Irish question came to a head. Mr. Gladstone declared for Home Rule, and the party fissure took place on false lines. The upper and[Pg 220] middle classes in the main went over to Unionism, but they took with them a section of the Radicals, while Mr. Gladstone's personal force retained on the Liberal side a number of men whose insight into the needs of democracy was by no means profound. The political fight was for the moment shifted from the social question to the single absorbing issue of Home Rule, and the new Unionist party enjoyed twenty years of almost unbroken supremacy. Again, had the Home Rule issue stood alone it might have been settled in 1892, but meanwhile in the later 'eighties the social question had become insistent. Socialism, ceasing to be a merely academic force, had begun to influence organized labour, and had inspired the more generous minds among the artisans with the determination to grapple with the problem of the unskilled workmen. From the Dockers' strike of 1889 the New Unionism became a fighting force in public affairs, and the idea of a Labour party began to take shape. On the new problems Liberalism, weakened as it already had been, was further divided, and its failure in 1892 is to be ascribed far more to this larger cause than to the dramatic personal incident of the Parnell divorce. In office[Pg 221] without legislative power from 1892 to 1895, the Liberal party only experienced further loss of credit, and the rise of Imperialism swept the whole current of public interest in a new direction. The Labour movement itself was paralyzed, and the defeat of the Engineers in 1897 put an end to the hope of achieving a great social transformation by the method of the strike. But, in the meanwhile, opinion was being silently transformed. The labours of Mr. Charles Booth and his associates had at length stated the problem of poverty in scientific terms. Social and economic history was gradually taking shape as a virtually new branch of knowledge. The work of Mr. and Mrs. Sidney Webb helped to clear up the relations between the organized efforts of workmen and the functions of the State. The discerning observer could trace the "organic filaments" of a fuller and more concrete social theory.
On the other hand, in the Liberal ranks many of the most influential men had passed, without consciousness of the transition, under the sway of quite opposite influences. They were becoming Imperialists in their sleep, and it was only as the implications of Imperialism[Pg 222] became evident that they were awakened. It was with the outbreak of the South African War that the new development of Conservative policy first compelled the average Liberal to consider his position. It needed the shock of an outspoken violation of right to stir him; and we may date the revival of the idea of justice in the party as an organized force from the speech in the summer of 1901 in which Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman set himself against the stream of militant sentiment and challenged in a classic phrase the methods of the war. From the day of this speech, which was supposed at the time to have irretrievably ruined his political career, the name of the party-leader, hitherto greeted with indifference, became a recognized signal for the cheers of a political meeting, and a man with no marked genius but that of character and the insight which character gave into the minds of his followers acquired in his party the position of a Gladstone. This was the first and fundamental victory, the reinstatement of the idea of Right in the mind of Liberalism. Then, as the Conservative attack developed and its implications became apparent, one interest after another of the older[Pg 223] Liberalism was rudely shaken into life. The Education Act of 1902 brought the Nonconformists into action. The Tariff Reform movement put Free Trade on its defence, and taught men to realize what the older economics of Liberalism had done for them. The Socialists of practical politics, the Labour Party, found that they could by no means dispense with the discipline of Cobden. Free Trade finance was to be the basis of social reform. Liberalism and Labour learned to co-operate in resisting delusive promises of remedies for unemployment and in maintaining the right of free international exchange. Meanwhile, Labour itself had experienced the full brunt of the attack. It had come not from the politicians but from the judges, but in this country we have to realize that within wide limits the judges are in effect legislators, and legislators with a certain persistent bent which can be held in check only by the constant vigilance and repeated efforts of the recognized organ for the making and repeal of law. In destroying the old position of the Trade Unions, the judges created the modern Labour party and cemented its alliance with Liberalism. Meanwhile, the [Pg 224]aftermath of Imperialism in South Africa was reaped, and Conservative disillusionment unlocked the floodgates for the advancing tide of the Liberal revival.
The tide has by no means spent itself. If it no longer rushes in an electoral torrent as in 1906 it flows in a steady stream towards social amelioration and democratic government. In this movement it is now sufficiently clear to all parties that the distinctive ideas of Liberalism have a permanent function. The Socialist recognizes with perfect clearness, for example, that popular government is not a meaningless shibboleth, but a reality that has to be maintained and extended by fighting. He is well aware that he must deal with the House of Lords and the Plural vote if he is to gain his own ends. He can no longer regard these questions as difficulties interposed by half-hearted Liberals to distract attention from the Social problem. He is aware that the problem of Home Rule and of devolution generally is an integral part of the organization of democracy. And, as a rule, he not merely acquiesces in the demand of women for a purely political right, but only quarrels with the Liberal party for its tardiness in[Pg 225] meeting the demand. The old Liberal idea of peace and retrenchment again is recognized by the Socialistic, and indeed by the whole body of social reformers, as equally essential for the successful prosecution of their aims. Popular budgets will bring no relief to human suffering if the revenues that they secure are all to go upon the most expensive ship that is the fashion of the moment, nor can the popular mind devote itself to the improvement of domestic conditions while it is distracted either by ambitions or by scares. On the other side, the Liberal who starts from the Gladstonian tradition has in large measure realized that if he is to maintain the essence of his old ideas it must be through a process of adaptation and growth. He has learnt that while Free Trade laid the foundations of prosperity it did not erect the building. He has to acknowledge that it has not solved the problems of unemployment, of underpayment, of overcrowding. He has to look deeper into the meaning of liberty and to take account of the bearing of actual conditions on the meaning of equality. As an apostle of peace and an opponent of swollen armaments, he has come to recognize that the expenditure[Pg 226] of the social surplus upon the instruments of progress is the real alternative to its expenditure on the instruments of war. As a Temperance man he is coming to rely more on the indirect effect of social improvement on the one hand and the elimination of monopolist profit on the other, than on the uncertain chances of absolute prohibition.
There are, then, among the composite forces which maintained the Liberal Government in power through the crisis of 1910, the elements of such an organic view as may inspire and direct a genuine social progress. Liberalism has passed through its Slough of Despond, and in the give and take of ideas with Socialism has learnt, and taught, more than one lesson. The result is a broader and deeper movement in which the cooler and clearer minds recognize below the differences of party names and in spite of certain real cross-currents a genuine unity of purpose. What are the prospects of this movement? Will it be maintained? Is it the steady stream to which we have compared it, or a wave which must gradually sink into the trough?
To put this question is to ask in effect whether democracy is in substance as well as[Pg 227] in form a possible mode of government. To answer this question we must ask what democracy really means, and why it is the necessary basis of the Liberal idea. The question has already been raised incidentally, and we have seen reason to dismiss both the individualist and the Benthamite argument for popular government as unsatisfactory. We even admitted a doubt whether some of the concrete essentials of liberty and social justice might not, under certain conditions, be less fully realized under a widely-extended suffrage than under the rule of a superior class or a well-ordered despotism. On what, then, it may be asked, do we found our conception of democracy? Is it on general principles of social philosophy, or on the special conditions of our own country or of contemporary civilization? And how does our conception relate itself to our other ideas of the social order? Do we assume that the democracy will in the main accept these ideas, or if it rejects them are we willing to acquiesce in its decision as final? And in the end what do we expect? Will democracy assert itself, will it find a common purpose and give it concrete shape? Or will it blunder on, the passive subject of[Pg 228] scares and ambitions, frenzies of enthusiasm and dejection, clay in the hands of those whose profession it is to model it to their will.
First as to the general principle. Democracy is not founded merely on the right or the private interest of the individual. This is only one side of the shield. It is founded equally on the function of the individual as a member of the community. It founds the common good upon the common will, in forming which it bids every grown-up, intelligent person to take a part. No doubt many good things may be achieved for a people without responsive effort on its own part. It may be endowed with a good police, with an equitable system of private law, with education, with personal freedom, with a well-organized industry. It may receive these blessings at the hands of a foreign ruler, or from an enlightened bureaucracy or a benevolent monarch. However obtained, they are all very good things. But the democratic theory is that, so obtained, they lack a vitalizing element. A people so governed resembles an individual who has received all the external gifts of fortune, good teachers, healthy[Pg 229]surroundings, a fair breeze to fill his sails, but owes his prosperous voyage to little or no effort of his own. We do not rate such a man so high as one who struggles through adversity to a much less eminent position. What we possess has its intrinsic value, but how we came to possess it is also an important question. It is so with a society. Good government is much, but the good will is more, and even the imperfect, halting, confused utterance of the common will may have in it the potency of higher things than a perfection of machinery can ever attain.
But this principle makes one very large assumption. It postulates the existence of a common will. It assumes that the individuals whom it would enfranchise can enter into the common life and contribute to the formation of a common decision by a genuine interest in public transactions. Where and in so far as this assumption definitely fails, there is no case for democracy. Progress, in such a case, is not wholly impossible, but it must depend on the number of those who do care for the things that are of social value, who advance knowledge or "civilize life through the discoveries of art," or form a narrow but effective public[Pg 230] opinion in support of liberty and order. We may go further. Whatever the form of government progress always does in fact depend on those who so think and live, and on the degree in which these common interests envelop their life and thought. Now, complete and wholehearted absorption in public interests is rare. It is the property not of the mass but of the few, and the democrat is well aware that it is the remnant which saves the people. He subjoins only that if their effort is really to succeed the people must be willing to be saved. The masses who spend their toilsome days in mine or factory struggling for bread have not their heads for ever filled with the complex details of international policy or industrial law. To expect this would be absurd. What is not exaggerated is to expect them to respond and assent to the things that make for the moral and material welfare of the country, and the position of the democrat is that the "remnant" is better occupied in convincing the people and carrying their minds and wills with it than in imposing on them laws which they are concerned only to obey and enjoy. At the same time, the remnant, be it never so select, has always much to learn. Some men[Pg 231] are much better and wiser than others, but experience seems to show that hardly any man is so much better or wiser than others that he can permanently stand the test of irresponsible power over them. On the contrary, the best and wisest is he who is ready to go to the humblest in a spirit of inquiry, to find out what he wants and why he wants it before seeking to legislate for him. Admitting the utmost that can be said for the necessity of leadership, we must at the same time grant that the perfection of leadership itself lies in securing the willing, convinced, open-eyed support of the mass.
Thus individuals will contribute to the social will in very varying degrees, but the democratic thesis is that the formation of such a will, that is, in effect, the extension of intelligent interest in all manner of public things, is in itself a good, and more than that, it is a condition qualifying other good things. Now the extension of interest is not to be created by democratic forms of government, and if it neither exists nor can be brought into existence, democracy remains an empty form and may even be worse than useless. On the other hand, where the capacity exists the[Pg 232] establishment of responsible government is the first condition of its development. Even so it is not the sole condition. The modern State is a vast and complex organism. The individual voter feels himself lost among the millions. He is imperfectly acquainted with the devious issues and large problems of the day, and is sensible how little his solitary vote can affect their decision. What he needs to give him support and direction is organization with his neighbours and fellow workers. He can understand, for example, the affairs of his trade union, or, again, of his chapel. They are near to him. They affect him, and he feels that he can affect them. Through these interests, again, he comes into touch with wider questions—with a Factory Bill or an Education Bill—and in dealing with these questions he will now act as one of an organized body, whose combined voting strength will be no negligible quantity. Responsibility comes home to him, and to bring home responsibility is the problem of all government. The development of social interest—and that is democracy—depends not only on adult suffrage and the supremacy of the elected legislature, but on all the intermediate organizations which link the[Pg 233] individual to the whole. This is one among the reasons why devolution and the revival of local government, at present crushed in this country by a centralized bureaucracy, are of the essence of democratic progress.
The success of democracy depends on the response of the voters to the opportunities given them. But, conversely, the opportunities must be given in order to call forth the response. The exercise of popular government is itself an education. In considering whether any class or sex or race should be brought into the circle of enfranchisement, the determining consideration is the response which that class or sex or race would be likely to make to the trust. Would it enter effectively into the questions of public life, or would it be so much passive voting material, wax in the hands of the less scrupulous politicians? The question is a fair one, but people are too ready to answer it in the less favourable sense on the ground of the actual indifference or ignorance which they find or think they find among the unenfranchised. They forget that in that regard enfranchisement itself may be precisely the stimulus needed to awaken interest, and while[Pg 234] they are impressed with the danger of admitting ignorant and irresponsible, and perhaps corruptible voters to a voice in the government, they are apt to overlook the counterbalancing danger of leaving a section of the community outside the circle of civic responsibility. The actual work of government must affect, and also it must be affected by, its relation to all who live within the realm. To secure good adaptation it ought, I will not say to reflect, but at least to take account of, the dispositions and circumstances of every class in the population. If any one class is dumb, the result is that Government is to that extent uninformed. It is not merely that the interests of that class may suffer, but that, even with the best will, mistakes may be made in handling it, because it cannot speak for itself. Officious spokesmen will pretend to represent its views, and will obtain, perhaps, undue authority merely because there is no way of bringing them to book. So among ourselves does the press constantly represent public opinion to be one thing while the cold arithmetic of the polls conclusively declares it to be another. The ballot alone effectively liberates the quiet citizen from[Pg 235] the tyranny of the shouter and the wire-puller.
I conclude that an impression of existing inertness or ignorance is not a sufficient reason for withholding responsible government or restricting the area of the suffrage. There must be a well-grounded view that political incapacity is so deep-rooted that the extension of political rights would tend only to facilitate undue influence by the less scrupulous sections of the more capable part of the people. Thus where we have an oligarchy of white planters in the midst of a coloured population, it is always open to doubt whether a general colour-franchise will be a sound method of securing even-handed justice. The economic and social conditions may be such that the "coloured" man would just have to vote as his master told him, and if the elementary rights are to be secured for all it may be that a semi-despotic system like that of some of our Crown colonies is the best that can be devised. On the other side, that which is most apt to frighten a governing class or race, a clamour on the part of an unenfranchised people for political rights, is to the democrat precisely the strongest reason that he can have in the[Pg 236] absence of direct experience for believing them fit for the exercise of civic responsibility. He welcomes signs of dissatisfaction among the disfranchised as the best proof of awakening interest in public affairs, and he has none of those fears of ultimate social disruption which are a nightmare to bureaucracies because experience has sufficiently proved to him the healing power of freedom, of responsibility, and of the sense of justice. Moreover, a democrat cannot be a democrat for his own country alone. He cannot but recognize the complex and subtle interactions of nation upon nation which make every local success or failure of democracy tell upon other countries. Nothing has been more encouraging to the Liberalism of Western Europe in recent years than the signs of political awakening in the East. Until yesterday it seemed as though it would in the end be impossible to resist the ultimate "destiny" of the white races to be masters of the rest of the world. The result would have been that, however far democracy might develop within any Western State, it would always be confronted with a contrary principle in the relation of that State to dependencies, and this[Pg 237] contradiction, as may easily be seen by the attentive student of our own political constitutions, is a standing menace to domestic freedom. The awakening of the Orient, from Constantinople to Pekin, is the greatest and most hopeful political fact of our time, and it is with the deepest shame that English Liberals have been compelled to look on while our Foreign Office has made itself the accomplice in the attempt to nip Persian freedom in the bud, and that in the interest of the most ruthless tyranny that has ever crushed the liberties of a white people.
The cause of democracy is bound up with that of internationalism. The relation is many-sided. It is national pride, resentment, or ambition one day that sweeps the public mind and diverts it from all interest in domestic progress. The next day the same function is performed no less adequately by a scare. The practice of playing on popular emotions has been reduced to a fine art which neither of the great parties is ashamed to employ. Military ideals possess the mind, and military expenditure eats up the public resources. On the other side, the political[Pg 238] economic and social progress of other nations reacts on our own. The backwardness of our commercial rivals in industrial legislation was long made an argument against further advances among ourselves. Conversely, when they go beyond us, as now they often do, we can learn from them. Physically the world is rapidly becoming one, and its unity must ultimately be reflected in political institutions. The old doctrine of absolute sovereignty is dead. The greater States of the day exhibit a complex system of government within government, authority limited by authority, and the world-state of the not impossible future must be based on a free national self-direction as full and satisfying as that enjoyed by Canada or Australia within the British Empire at this moment. National emulation will express itself less in the desire to extend territory or to count up ships and guns, and more in the endeavour to magnify the contribution of our own country to civilized life. Just as in the rebirth of our municipal life we find a civic patriotism which takes interest in the local university, which feels pride in the magnitude of the local industry, which parades the lowest death rate in the country,[Pg 239] which is honestly ashamed of a bad record for crime or pauperism, so as Englishmen we shall concern ourselves less with the question whether two of our Dreadnoughts might not be pitted against one German, and more with the question whether we cannot equal Germany in the development of science, of education, and of industrial technique. Perhaps even, recovering from our present artificially induced and radically insincere mood of national self-abasement, we shall learn to take some pride in our own characteristic contributions as a nation to the arts of government, to the thought, the literature, the art, the mechanical inventions which have made and are re-making modern civilization.
Standing by national autonomy and international equality, Liberalism is necessarily in conflict with the Imperial idea

dimecres, 22 d’octubre del 2014

—Quem é, Thereza? quem é, Thereza? Não ouves passos, que vão pela serra Não ouves gritos, quem é, Thereza? —É D. Sebastião que vae para a guerra ....Ha quantos annos vós estaes fechados N'estas muralhas de granito e cal! Ah se soubesseis, Frades corcovados! O que vae lá por fóra, em Portugal! NA VOSSA JUSTIÇA NÃO ENTRA PIÇA NA LIÇA ? VENÉREA NO TÍTULO DESSE CAPÍTULO ?O os meus dias idos em contemplação! O os meus loucos sonhos que d'ahi eu trouxe! Fallava eu ás flôres, como se ella fosse: «Maria» eu lhes chamava, cego de paixão. Hei-de gravar-te em bronze e tornar-te immortal! Eu hei-de lançar o teu nome aos quatro ventos! Eu, o humilde Snr. Manoel dos Soffrimentos, Eu, por graça de Deus, poeta de Portugal. DO MESSIANISMO BACOCO AO MUITO MUITO LOUCO ...Lisboa á beira-mar, cheia de vistas, Ó Lisboa das meigas Procissões! Ó Lisboa de Irmãs e de fadistas! Ó Lisboa dos lyricos pregões... Lisboa com o Tejo das Conquistas, Mais os ossos provaveis de Camões! Ó Lisboa de marmore, Lisboa! Quem nunca te viu, não viu coisa boa... II És tu a mesma de que falla a Historia? Eu quero ver-te, aonde é que estás.....Ó JUSTIÇA SEM PIÇA ENROLADA NA TRELIÇA COM PELIÇA....COPULA COM COGULA OU SIMPLESMENTE CAPITULA NO ÓLEO FULA? Procura bem Anrique em Portugal; Procura-o na flôr das primaveras, Procura-o na sombra do olival; Procura á luz de todas as chymeras.E MESMO NAS QUIMERAS MAIS BERAS ...NA TRELIÇA DA JUSTIÇA A PIÇA COM PELIÇA COPULA MAS NÃO TRIPULA A COBIÇA ....nessa liça —Quem é, Thereza? quem é, Thereza? Quem é, Thereza, que bate á porta? —Olhe a Fortuna não é com certeza, Por isso... durma, durma, que lhe importa? (O vento uiva, uiva). —Não ouves, Thereza, tres pancadinhas? Vae vêr: é a D. Felicidade. —Mas as senhoras não sahem sósinhas N'uma aldeia, nem mesmo na cidade... Durma menino, a dormir Não soffre tanta paixão, Os sonhos que lhe hão de vir Afasto-os eu, com a mão. Durma menino, a dormir Não ouve o seu coração, E p'ra o ajudar a dormir Eu canto-lhe uma canção: Era uma vez, n'um paço sobre o Tejo, Um moço Rey... de lindos olhos verdes; (Senhor! se a luz dos vossos, perderdes, Tereis os d'elle que sempre abertos vejo.) Andava o moço Rey com seu gibão De prata branca, reluzente d'oiros. Tinha em anneis os seus cabellos loiros, No céu era anjo e cá... Sebastião. (O vento geme, geme sempre).

Uma lembrança dentro em mim se enraiza.
—Dou-te, bom velho! tudo que quizeres,
Se em troca me dás vestes e camiza.

O velhinho sorriu como as mulheres.
A quinzena me deu, e eu dei-lhe a minha,
Que na botoeira tinha malmequeres...

Ninguem a essa hora pela estrada vinha.
Tudo despiu, me deu: fiquei perfeito.
E eu dei-lhe em troca tudo quanto tinha.

Mas não estava ainda satisfeito,
As suas barbas brancas eu queria,
Comprar-lh'as era falta de respeito!

Comprar-lh'as nunca eu me atreveria!
Mas o bom velho o pensamento ouviu,
Que aquelle olhar excepcional ouvia.

Ó grandes barbas! que ainda ninguem viu!
Ó grandes barbas! como eram bellas!
Tal como outrora as de D. João, em Diu!

—Não lh'as vendo, Senhor! mas dou-lh'as, quel-as?
Ó povo portuguez! quanto és sympathico!
Ó povo portuguez das caravellas!
[116]

Cortou-as. Deu-m'as. Eu fiquei extactico.
Beijei-lhe as mãos curvado... E o bom velhinho
Lá se foi, a scismar... tossindo... asthmatico...

O sol cahia ao longe no caminho!
Não tarda a noite, já lhe sinto os passos,
Mas ha tempo: ella anda devagarinho.

Enfarpellei sem grandes embaraços;
A toillete tem poucos elementos,
Muitos remendos sim, rotos os braços...

Perdia-se o velho, ao longe, em passos lentos;
«Que nome tens, amigo?» lhe gritei.
«Manoel». E digo eu, «dos Soffrimentos».

Cahia a noite: com pressa caminhava.
Segui os passos deixados por Maria
Que flôres na mão, andando, desfolhava.

Não era aviso que assim daria?
O meu olhar teria percebido?
Que luz d'esperança a minha alma via!

Entrei no pateo, Senhores! Mas que atrevido
Irão achar o pobre esfarrapado!
Um mendigo velho... e tão mal vestido!
[117]

Pedi esmola e parei sobresaltado.
Emquanto alguns me enchiam a saccola
Um olhar lindo em mim era fixado.

E que olhar p'ra mim! tanta doçura evola!
Senhores, eu não me tinha enganado...
(Assim julguei então... a Vida foi-me escola!...)

Ella passou, de manso, para o meu lado
E murmurou o meu nome, assim, baixinho...
Disse-me depois que o houvera sonhado!



Tens razão, Anrique; mas no emtanto,
Quem soffreu como tu sem descançar,
Anrique, ou dá n'um cynico, ou n'um santo:
Não és cynico, não, sabes chorar.

Ouve-me, Anrique: n'esses céus existe
Um homem, Pae da Terra e mais do Mar,
Que fez o Mundo (por signal tão triste)
E os olhos, não p'ra o vêr, mas p'ra chorar.

Vá! offerece-lhe a tua mocidade.
Vá! vae soffrer por elle e trabalhar.
Ah bem sei que custa tanto, n'essa idade...
Mas que has-de tu fazer? Chorar? Chorar?
[125]

Não tens na vida uma alma amiga
(Tu bem no sabes) para te amparar.
Só eu, embora curvo de fadiga,
Tenho paciencia p'ra te ouvir chorar!

Todos os mais, malvados e egoistas,
(Que tudo a Deus, um dia, hão de pagar)
Não te poriam nem sequer a vista,
Fugiriam, ao verem-te chorar!

A adversidade é uma maravilha
Que certas almas sabem respeitar,
Mas aos olhos dos mais a dôr humilha...
Ah quanto é grande vêr um rei chorar!

Ah pensa, pensa bem na tua sorte,
Cautela, Anrique, nada de brincar.
Ha outros males piores do que a morte,
Cautela, Anrique, vamos trabalhar.

Vae trabalhar por Deus.—«Mas como e aonde?
Não vos disse que morto é Portugal?
P'r'o trabalho quem antes era conde!»—
—Ai meu Anrique, não te fica mal!



Não me dizes que lá por Portugal
Andam as almas todas quebrantadas?
Vae, meu filho, vae para Portugal
Vae levantar as flores, já tão quebradas.

Anda, meu filho: vae dizer baixinho
A esse povo do Mar, que é teu irmão,
Que não fraqueje nunca no caminho,
Que espere em pé o seu D. Sebastião.

Anrique, vae gritar por essa rua
—Virá um dia o «Sempre-Desejado»!
Deu a vida por vós, Tu, dá-lhe a tua,
Esquece n'elle todo o teu passado.

dimarts, 14 d’octubre del 2014

Crush humanity out of shape once more, under similar hammers, and it will twist itself into the same tortured forms. Sow the same seeds of rapacious licence and oppression over again, and it will surely yield the same fruit according to its kind.It was the Dover road that lay, on a Friday night late in November, before the first of the persons with whom this history has business. The Dover road lay, as to him, beyond the Dover mail, as it lumbered up Shooter's Hill. He walked up hill in the mire by the side of the mail, as the rest of the passengers did; not because they had the least relish for walking exercise, under the circumstances, but because the hill, and the harness, and the mud, and the mail, were all so heavy, that the horses had three times already come to a stop, besides once drawing the coach across the road, with the mutinous intent of taking it back to Blackheath. Reins and whip and coachman and guard, however, in combination, had read that article of war which forbade a purpose otherwise strongly in favour of the argument, that some brute animals are endued with Reason; and the team had capitulated and returned to their duty. With drooping heads and tremulous tails, they mashed their way through the thick mud, floundering and stumbling between whiles, as if they were falling to pieces at the larger joints. As often as the driver rested them and brought them to a stand, with a wary "Wo-ho! so-ho-then!" the near leader violently shook his head and everything upon it—like an unusually emphatic horse, denying that the coach could be got up the hill. Whenever the leader made this rattle, the passenger started, as a nervous passenger might, and was disturbed in mind. There was a steaming mist in all the hollows, and it had roamed in its forlornness up the hill, like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding none. A clammy and intensely cold mist, it made its slow way through the air in ripples that visibly followed and overspread one another, as the waves of an unwholesome sea might do. It was dense enough to shut out everything from the light of the coach-lamps but these its own workings, and a few yards of road; and the reek of the labouring horses steamed into it, as if they had made it all. Two other passengers, besides the one, were plodding up the hill by the side of the mail. All three were wrapped to the cheekbones and over the ears, and wore jack-boots. Not one of the three could have said, from anything he saw, what either of the other two was like; and each was hidden under almost as many wrappers from the eyes of the mind, as from the eyes of the body, of his two companions. In those days, travellers were very shy of being confidential on a short notice, for anybody on the road might be a robber or in league with robbers. As to the latter, when every posting-house and ale-house could produce somebody in "the Captain's" pay, ranging from the landlord to the lowest stable non-descript, it was the likeliest thing upon the cards. So the guard of the Dover mail thought to himself, that Friday night in November, one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five, lumbering up Shooter's Hill, as he stood on his own particular perch behind the mail, beating his feet, and keeping an eye and a hand on the arm-chest before him, where a loaded blunderbuss lay at the top of six or eight loaded horse-pistols, deposited on a substratum of cutlass. The Dover mail was in its usual genial position that the guard suspected the passengers, the passengers suspected one another and the guard, they all suspected everybody else, and the coachman was sure of nothing but the horses; as to which cattle he could with a clear conscience have taken his oath on the two Testaments that they were not fit for the journey. "Wo-ho!" said the coachman. "So, then! One more pull and you're at the top and be damned to you, for I have had trouble enough to get you to it!—Joe!" "Halloa!" the guard replied. "What o'clock do you make it, Joe?" "Ten minutes, good, past eleven." "My blood!" ejaculated the vexed coachman, "and not atop of Shooter's yet! Tst! Yah! Get on with you!" The emphatic horse, cut short by the whip in a most decided negative, made a decided scramble for it, and the three other horses followed suit. Once more, the Dover mail struggled on, with the jack-boots of its passengers squashing along by its side. They had stopped when the coach stopped, and they kept close company with it. If any one of the three had had the hardihood to propose to another to walk on a little ahead into the mist and darkness, he would have put himself in a fair way of getting shot instantly as a highwayman. The last burst carried the mail to the summit of the hill. The horses stopped to breathe again, and the guard got down to skid the wheel for the descent, and open the coach-door to let the passengers in. "Tst! Joe!" cried the coachman in a warning voice, looking down from his box. "What do you say, Tom?" They both listened. "I say a horse at a canter coming up, Joe." "I say a horse at a gallop, Tom," returned the guard, leaving his hold of the door, and mounting nimbly to his place. "Gentlemen! In the king's name, all of you!" With this hurried adjuration, he cocked his blunderbuss, and stood on the offensive. The passenger booked by this history, was on the coach-step, getting in; the two other passengers were close behind him, and about to follow. He remained on the step, half in the coach and half out of; they remained in the road below him. They all looked from the coachman to the guard, and from the guard to the coachman, and listened. The coachman looked back and the guard looked back, and even the emphatic leader pricked up his ears and looked back, without contradicting. The stillness consequent on the cessation of the rumbling and labouring of the coach, added to the stillness of the night, made it very quiet indeed. The panting of the horses communicated a tremulous motion to the coach, as if it were in a state of agitation. The hearts of the passengers beat loud enough perhaps to be heard; but at any rate, the quiet pause was audibly expressive of people out of breath, and holding the breath, and having the pulses quickened by expectation. The sound of a horse at a gallop came fast and furiously up the hill. "So-ho!" the guard sang out, as loud as he could roar. "Yo there! Stand! I shall fire!" The pace was suddenly checked, and, with much splashing and floundering, a man's voice called from the mist, "Is that the Dover mail?" "Never you mind what it is!" the guard retorted. "What are you?" "Is that the Dover mail?" "Why do you want to know?" "I want a passenger, if it is." "What passenger?" "Mr. Jarvis Lorry." Our booked passenger showed in a moment that it was his name. The guard, the coachman, and the two other passengers eyed him distrustfully. "Keep where you are," the guard called to the voice in the mist, "because, if I should make a mistake, it could never be set right in your lifetime. Gentleman of the name of Lorry answer straight." "What is the matter?" asked the passenger, then, with mildly quavering speech. "Who wants me? Is it Jerry?" ("I don't like Jerry's voice, if it is Jerry," growled the guard to himself. "He's hoarser than suits me, is Jerry.") "Yes, Mr. Lorry." "What is the matter?" "A despatch sent after you from over yonder. T. and Co." "I know this messenger, guard," said Mr. Lorry, getting down into the road—assisted from behind more swiftly than politely by the other two passengers, who immediately scrambled into the coach, shut the door, and pulled up the window. "He may come close; there's nothing wrong." "I hope there ain't, but I can't make so 'Nation sure of that," said the guard, in gruff soliloquy. "Hallo you!" "Well! And hallo you!" said Jerry, more hoarsely than before.

Come on at a footpace! d'ye mind me? And if you've got holsters to that saddle o' yourn, don't let me see your hand go nigh 'em. For I'm a devil at a quick mistake, and when I make one it takes the form of Lead. So now let's look at you."
The figures of a horse and rider came slowly through the eddying mist, and came to the side of the mail, where the passenger stood. The rider stooped, and, casting up his eyes at the guard, handed the passenger a small folded paper. The rider's horse was blown, and both horse and rider were covered with mud, from the hoofs of the horse to the hat of the man.
"Guard!" said the passenger, in a tone of quiet business confidence.
The watchful guard, with his right hand at the stock of his raised blunderbuss, his left at the barrel, and his eye on the horseman, answered curtly, "Sir."
"There is nothing to apprehend. I belong to Tellson's Bank. You must know Tellson's Bank in London. I am going to Paris on business. A crown to drink. I may read this?"
"If so be as you're quick, sir."
He opened it in the light of the coach-lamp on that side, and read—first to himself and then aloud: "'Wait at Dover for Mam'selle.' It's not long, you see, guard. Jerry, say that my answer was, Recalled to life."
Jerry started in his saddle. "That's a Blazing strange answer, too," said he, at his hoarsest.
"Take that message back, and they will know that I received this, as well as if I wrote. Make the best of your way. Good night."
With those words the passenger opened the coach-door and got in; not at all assisted by his fellow-passengers, who had expeditiously secreted their watches and purses in their boots, and were now making a general pretence of being asleep. With no more definite purpose than to escape the hazard of originating any other kind of action.
The coach lumbered on again, with heavier wreaths of mist closing round it as it began the descent. The guard soon replaced his blunderbuss in his arm-chest, and, having looked to the rest of its contents, and having looked to the supplementary pistols that he wore in his belt, looked to a smaller chest beneath his seat, in which there were a few smith's tools, a couple of torches, and a tinder-box. For he was furnished with that completeness that if the coach-lamps had been blown and stormed out, which did occasionally happen, he had only to shut himself up inside, keep the flint and steel sparks well off the straw, and get a light with tolerable safety and ease (if he were lucky) in five minutes.
"Tom!" softly over the coach roof.
"Hallo, Joe."
"Did you hear the message?"
"I did, Joe."
"What did you make of it, Tom?"
"Nothing at all, Joe."
"That's a coincidence, too," the guard mused, "for I made the same of it myself."
Jerry, left alone in the mist and darkness, dismounted meanwhile, not only to ease his spent horse, but to wipe the mud from his face, and shake the wet out of his hat-brim, which might be capable of holding about half a gallon. After standing with the bridle over his heavily-splashed arm, until the wheels of the mail were no longer within hearing and the night was quite still again, he turned to walk down the hill.
"After that there gallop from Temple Bar, old lady, I won't trust your fore-legs till I get you on the level," said this hoarse messenger, glancing at his mare. "'Recalled to life.' That's a Blazing strange message. Much of that wouldn't do for you, Jerry! I say, Jerry! You'd be in a Blazing bad way, if recalling to life was to come into fashion, Jerry!"