THE LUSIADS AND THE ASIAN READER BALACHANDRA RAJAN University of Western Ontario I n M ARCH 1553 four ships set sail from Lisbon along the route that Vasco da Gama had pioneered for Western commerce. Three were lost on the way. The fourth ship, the Sao Bento, dropped anchor in Goa only to be lost on the way back. Among those disembarking from the Sao Bento was a common soldier, Luis Vaz de Camoens, the author-to-be of The Lusiads. Goa had been seized by Albuquerque in 1510, an event foretold by Jupiter in The Lusiads, who assures the importunate Venus that Goa will in time be the queen of all the East. Camoens had not arrived to savour the truth of this prophecy, regarding a city that he described elsewhere as a modern Babylon, or to enjoy the fruits of that paradise that Vasco da Gama had hailed, or even to conduct preliminary research for The Lusiads. He came because he may have had no alternative. In a street brawl on Corpus Christi day in 1552 the quarrelsome Camoens had wounded a court official, Garcalo Borges. He was cast into prison for eight months. Borges did not press charges and in fact forgave the poet after receiving an apology. The king’s pardon followed on 7 March 1553, presumably with a condition attached to it. A fortnight later Camoens embarked for Goa. “I set out,” he wrote dejectedly, “as one leaving this world for the next.” He continued on his colourful course, taking part in an expedition against the king of Chembe on the Malabar coast within six weeks of his arrival and, perhaps, in an expedition to Ormuz in 1554. In February 1555 he “can be located with some precision in what used to be Italian Somaliland (Lusiads, intro, xix). In the following year he appears a third of the way across the world in Macao as Trustee for the Dead and Absent. Opinion differs as to whether this was a promotion or a further degree of exile. In Macao Camoens once again displayed his customary talent for not getting on with authority. Relieved of his post, he was in some danger of providing his successor with an additional dossier, by himself joining the ranks of the dead and absent. The hospitable Vietnamese rescued him from a shipwreck in the Mekong estuary. Clutched to his heart was the waterlogged manuscript of The Lusiads. It is a story that seems designed to belong to literature rather than fact. Camoens endows it with a double legitimacy by incorporating it into his epic poem (x, 124). He also anticipates Milton here and elsewhere in The Lusiads in E nglish Stu d ies in C a n a d a , 23, 1, March 1997 his infiltration of the epic voice by the personal (Sims 374-84; Martz 45-59, esp. 58). From Macao, Camoens returned to Goa and was in and out of prison, once for not paying his debts and once, it is conjectured, because of the enemies he had made at Macao. He decided to return to Portugal, but languished for two years at Mozambique, unable to pay his passage further. It was not until 1570 that he reached Lisbon. The Lusiads was published two years later. The king awarded Camoens a pension of 15,000 reis, which is described as not magnificent but not a pittance (intro., xxv). It compares well with the payment of ten pounds that Milton received for writing Paradise Lost. A life that reads like a tale out of Conrad is reflected in a poem that is more robust than thoughtful. Innumerable and boastful accounts of Portuguese victories past and future remind one of that “tedious havoc” that Milton castigates (PL IX, 30), though only after indulging in a fair measure of it himself. Camoens courts comparison assiduously with Virgil through more than eighty allusions to the Aeneid and claims superiority over past epics in that his hero is actual rather than legendary. The machinery of the poem complete with Greek gods and Olympian squabbling is also lavishly emulative of the ancients. It becomes something of an embarrassment in a poem written under Christian...
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