No More Learning

Camoens, tired of his
inactive, obscure life, went to Ceuta in this expedition, and greatly
distinguished his valour in several _rencontres_. In a naval engagement
with the Moors in the Straits of Gibraltar, Camoens, in the conflict of
boarding, where he was among the foremost, lost his right eye. Yet
neither the hurry of actual service, nor the dissipation of the camp,
could stifle his genius. He continued his _Lusiadas_; and several of his
most beautiful sonnets were written in Africa, while, as he expresses
it,

"One hand the pen, and ant the sword employ'd. "

The fame of his valour had now reached the Court, and he obtained
permission to return to Lisbon. But while he solicited an establishment
which he had merited in the ranks of battle, the malignity of evil
tongues (as he calls it in one of his letters) was injuriously poured
upon him. Though the bloom of his early youth was effaced by several
years residence under the scorching sky of Africa, and though altered by
the loss of an eye, his presence gave uneasiness to the gentlemen of
some families of the first rank where he had formerly visited. Jealousy
is the characteristic of the Spanish and Portuguese; its resentment
knows no bounds, and Camoens now found it prudent to banish himself from
his native country. Accordingly, in 1553 he hailed for India, with a
resolution never to return. As the ship left the Tagus he exclaimed, in
the words of the sepulchral monument of Scipio Africanus, "_Ingrata
patria, non possidebis ossa mea! _" (Ungrateful country, thou shalt not
possess my bones! ) But he knew not what evils in the East would awaken
the remembrance of his native fields.

When Camoens arrived in India, an expedition was ready to sail to
revenge the King of Cochin on the King of Pimenta. Without any rest on
shore after his long voyage, he joined this armament, and, in the
conquest of the Alagada Islands, displayed his usual bravery. But his
modesty, perhaps, is his greatest praise.
In a sonnet he mentions this
expedition: "We went to punish the King of Pimenta," says he, "_e
succedeones bem_" (and we succeeded well). When it is considered that
the poet bore no inconsiderable share in the victory, no ode can
conclude more elegantly, more happily than this.

In the year following, he attended Manuel de Vasconcello in an
expedition to the Red Sea. Here, says Faria, as Camoens had no use for
his sword, he employed his pen. Nor was his activity confined to the
fleet or camp. He visited Mount Felix, and the adjacent inhospitable
regions of Africa, which he so strongly pictures in the Lusiad, and in
one of his little pieces, where he laments the absence of his mistress.

When he returned to Goa, he enjoyed a tranquility which enabled him to
bestow his attention on his epic poem. But this serenity was
interrupted, perhaps by his own imprudence. He wrote some satires which
gave offence, and by order of the viceroy, Francisco Barreto, he was
banished to China.

Men of poor abilities are more conscious of their embarrassment and
errors than is commonly believed. When men of this kind are in power,
they affect great solemnity; and every expression of the most distant
tendency to lessen their dignity is held as the greatest of crimes.
Conscious, also, how severely the man of genius can hurt their interest,
they bear an instinctive antipathy against him, are uneasy even in his
company, and, on the slightest pretence, are happy to drive him from
them. Camoens was thus situated at Goa; and never was there a fairer
field for satire than the rulers of India at that time afforded. Yet,
whatever esteem the prudence of Camoens may lose in our idea, the
nobleness of his disposition will doubly gain. And, so conscious was he
of his real integrity and innocence, that in one of his sonnets he
wishes no other revenge on Barreto than that the cruelty of his exile
should ever be remembered. [8]

The accomplishments and manners of Camoens soon found him friends,
though under the disgrace of banishment.