Un 22 June 1865 he died Angel Saavedra, Duke of Rivas, Spanish poet and playwright, and best known for his most famous romantic drama Don Álvaro or The Force of Fate, emblematic work of the romanticismo Spanish. To recall his memory, I choose a series of fragments of this title.
Ángel Saavedra, Duke of Rivas
Born in Cordova, Ángel Saavedra was a playwright, poet, historian, painter and statesman. Of liberal ideas, fought against the French in the war of independence and later against the absolutism of Fernando VII. This led him into exile in Malta and inspired some of his poems, such as With eleven fatal wounds.
His first verses, gathered in Poetry and plays like Ataulfo y Lanuza, are framed within the neoclassicism. But during his Maltese exile he discovered the work of William Shakespeare, Walter Scott and Lord Byron and joined the romantic movement with poems The outcast, Ethe outlaw's dream o The lighthouse of Malta.
Don Álvaro or the force of fate
It was the work that inaugurated the Spanish romantic theater and, in addition, the modern theater. It is a drama in five acts or days, in prose and in verse. It has all the typical ingredients of romanticism, such as melancholy or pessimism, and develops a characteristic theme: that of the man dragged into disgrace by a destiny against which he cannot fight. It is the mysterious combination of chance and necessity that directs the actions of the characters.
The protagonist is Don Álvaro, a knight in love with Leonor, the daughter of the Marquis of Calatrava. One night Don Álvaro bursts into Leonor's room with the intention of kidnapping her, but is surprised by the Marquis of Calatrava. Don Álvaro accidentally kills him and has to flee. After several years, during which the lovers have lived apart, Don Álvaro in the war, and Leonor, hidden in a hermitage, both meet, but fate will prevent their love.
Fragments
Act I - Scene VII
DON ÁLVARO: (With great vehemence.)
Comforting angel of my soul!
Are the holy heavens already going to give an eternal crown to my sleeplessness?
Joy drowns me ...
Are we holding each other so that we are never separated?
Before, before death
that separating me from you and losing you.
DOÑA LEONOR (Very agitated.).
Don Álvaro!
DON ALVARO.
My good, my God, my everything ...
What agitates and disturbs you in such a way?
Does it trouble your heart to see that your lover
is at this moment
more proud than the sun? ...
Garment adored!
[...]
DON ALVARO.
Ms!
MRS LEONOR.
Oh! you break my soul ...
DON ALVARO.
My heart is shattered ... Where is it, where,
your love, your firm oath?
Wrong with your word corresponds
so much irresolution at such a moment.
Such a sudden move ...
I don't know you, Leonor. Did the wind blow away
from my delirium all the hope?
Yes, I have blinded on the spot
when the brightest day dawned.
They will take me deceased
from here, when immortal leave believed.
Deceptive sorceress,
The beautiful perspective that you fallaciously offered me so undo?
Perfidious! Do you please
to rise to the throne of the Eternal,
and then sink into hell?
Is it just left for me now? ...
DOÑA LEONOR. (Throwing herself into his arms.)
No, no, I adore you.
Don Álvaro!… My good!… Come on, yes, come on.
***
Act I - Scene VIII
Marquis.- (Furious) Vile seducer!… Infamous daughter!
Doña Leonor .- (Throwing herself at her father's feet) Father! Dad!
Marquis.- I am not your father ... Depart ... and you, vile upstart ...
Don Álvaro.- Your daughter is innocent… I am the culprit… Pierce my chest. (Gets down on one knee.)
Marquis.- Your pleading attitude shows how low your condition is ...
Don Álvaro.- (Rising) Mr. Marquis! ... Mr. Marquis! ...
Marquis.- (To his daughter) Quita, wicked woman. (Curra, who holds his arm) and you unhappy, do you dare touch your master? (To the servants) Hey, get on that infamous one, hold him, tie him up ...
Don Álvaro.- (With dignity.) Unfortunate person who loses respect for me. (He takes out a pistol and mounts it).
Doña Leonor.- (Running towards Don Álvaro) Don ÁIvaro!… What are you going to do?
Marquis.- Get on him at once.
Don Álvaro.- Woe to your servants if they move! You only have the right to pierce my heart.
Marquis .- You die at the hands of a gentleman? Not; you will die to those of the executioner.
Don Álvaro.- Mr. Marquis of Calatrava! But, ah, no; you have the right to everything ... Your daughter is innocent ... As pure as the breath of the angels that surround the throne of the Most High. The suspicion that my presence here at such hours may give rise to conclude with my death, come out wrapping my corpse as if it were my shroud ... Yes, I must die ... but at your hands. (He puts one knee on the ground) I await the blow resigned; I will not resist it; you already have me disarmed. (He throws the pistol, which when it hits the ground, it fires and wounds the Marquis, who falls dying into the arms of his daughter and the servants, yelling)
Marquis. - I'm dead! ... Oh, me! ...
Don Álvaro.- My God! Baleful weapon! Terrible night!
Doña Leonor.- Father, father!
Marquis.- Set aside; get me out of here ..., where I die without this vile contaminating me with such a name ...
***
Act III - Scene IV. Monologue of Don Álvaro.
What unbearable burden
it is the vital environment
for the petty mortal
that is born in terrible fate!
What a horrible eternity
the short life! This world,
What deep dungeon,
for the unhappy man,
who is the angry sky looking at
with his furious frown!
It seems, yes, that to measure
which is harder and more bitter
the more it extends, the more it lengthens
fate our life.
If it is granted to us
just to suffer,
and very brief be
the happy one, as in sorrow
that its object does not fill,
It is a terrible thing to be born!
To the one who is calm, joyful,
live between applause and honors,
and of innocent loves
drain the tasty chalice
when he is stronger and more spirited,
death his days mark,
his fortunes run over:
and I, how unhappy I am,
I, looking for her I go,
I can't find her.
But how am I to obtain it,
Unfortunate me!
Well, when I was born unhappy,
I was born to grow old
If that day of pleasure
(that one I have only enjoyed),
fortune would have set,
How soon premature death
with his fierce scythe
my neck would have cut!