Tricksters and Devils

Source

Recently my reading has focused on the evolution of the devil figure in mythic and folkloric narrative of the judeo-christian tradition. In order to understand how he came to be depicted in both the comical and moralizing verse in 20th century Brazil, I wanted to know how readers' or audiences' attitudes towards this figure evolved over time; what socio-cultural narratives may have contributed to the image of the devil found in modern cordel literature.

One of the devil's most important proxies is the Trickster. With the audacity to reveal our base human impulses, and with the wisdom to annunciate core philosophical realities of human experience, the Trickster is a near-ubiquitous character in folk narrative - from all over the world. There are striking similarities in the way in which the devil and the Trickster are portrayed. 

Although I am but a beginner in Trickster studies, Professor Harold Scheub is most certainly not. His book, Trickster and Hero (2012), provides a global perspective on the Trickster figure... Here are some excepts from his fantastic book, which I've been simply devouring. Accompanying his insights are some images of the Zanni tricksters of the Commedia Dell'arte repertoire. 

Jacques Callot (1592-1635) Engraving

"The profane or earth-bound trickster is, like the divine trickster, obscene, aggressive, selfish, amoral. In this, he is closest to the basest of humans. ... Yet, in a way, the profane trickster does retain an echo of the divine connection, if tenuously: he also creates in the sense that he creates a world of illusion; he imposes his own corrupt sense of order on the real world. An agent of chaos, he disrupts harmony; when he establishes harmony, it is according to his own whim, his own sense of order. Trickster combines horror and glee: his is the comedy of the grotesque." 

"The trickster through performance binds present and past. The tale is the moment in which past and present are blended in a performance." 

"Trickster would have no existence, would have no meaning, would make no sense whatsoever if we did not understand the frame in which he operates. He is forever theatrical. He creates theater in the world that we know, the real world. Without that frame, Trickster's antics are merely obscene and silly But within that frame, he becomes significant and eternal. Trickster makes the flawed moment eternal." 

"There are mighty forces, represented by God, Leopard, Lion. The weak cannot prevail over them, they have all the power. They create, they establish boundaries. But in the trickster tale, those boundaries are loosened, violated; the power of gods, of the great animals, is called into question, and chaos results." 

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Who are your favorite tricksters? What are your favorite books about the history of the trickster or devil? 

Until next time - keep rustling!

The Devil on the Road Home

"Landscape with the Temptation of Christ," Pieter Bruegel the Elder; mid-18th century

Yesterday's post described the tumultuous public life of Antônio José da Silva, "The Jew," and offered a brief overview of his artistic production. This post will be dedicated to one of his works in particular: Obras do diabinho da mão furada, which can be roughly translated as: Tales of the devil with the pierced hand. Other versions of this story have surfaced in alternate re-copyings of the original manuscript under the title Obras do fradinho da mão furada which replaces the word "devil" with the word "friar."

Published in the early part of the 18th century, a time in which the Inquisition retained a strong and widespread presence throughout the Iberian peninsula and its colonies, da Silva's portrayal of the devil disguised as a friar both in the story and in the story's title was potentially quite risky -- especially given his already-tenuous relationship with the Holy Office. However, the devil dressed in a friar's robes was not without its precedent in Europe by the time da Silva wrote his tale.

In the German tradition, for instance, plays and pamphlets about Bruder Rausch ("Friar Rush") enjoyed several centuries of success. First appearing in the high middle ages, the story of this demonic trickster in holy garb was reworked and retold throughout Germany from the 15th-19th centuries, including a contribution from Stuttgart native, Wilhelm Hertz, who published a novel-length tale based on the Friar Rush lore in 1882.

Although it is difficult to say if these German tales were retold in Portugal, the devil-disguised-as-friar motif was undoubtedly widespread in Europe since as early as the 15th century. Manuscript marginalia produced by monastic scribes of the medieval period made healthy use of the motif. In her book on humor in the middle ages, Valarie Allen has written about a recurring image of a wolf in Dutch marginalia: a wolf in friar's robes preaching to a flock of sheep.

Da Silva's devil-disguised-as-friar narrative, in spite of these possible influences, is truly unique thanks to the devil's supporting lead character. André Peralta is a broke and weary soldier, trying to make his home to Lisbon after almost a decade of continuous battle in Flanders. The story opens in the midst of a terrible nighttime storm; Perlata is on the road, still far from Lisbon, and desperately he seeks some kind of refuge from the tempest.

"Soldiers in landscape," Pieter Bruegel the Younger; 16th century

Before long, he comes upon what appeared to be an unoccupied house. After warming himself by a fire and consuming the last of his food provisions, he drifts off to sleep, only to be awakened at midnight. Standing before him is a hideous old man, dressed as a friar, with cloven feet.

After only a few minutes of conversation, Peralta figures out who his new companion is, and he is appropriately wary and guarded, trying at the same time not to anger the "friar" nor coalesce with his plans entirely. During their first conversation, the devil tells Peralta that he will accompany him on the rest of his journey home. Peralta quickly declines this offer, whereupon the devil makes the rain pour inside the house, as a warning.

The devil explains that because Peralta has chosen to take refuge the devil's own house, he must show the devil some respect. The devil adds, however, that he feels compelled by some "causa secreta" ("secret cause") to help the poor soldier through to the end of his journey. This is a fairly transparent threat: the "secret cause" that inspires the devil to "help" Peralta is most likely the same impulse the devil has to meddle in anyone's life -- he wants to stir up mischief, hopefully leading to Peralta's downfall, and the devil will not be denied.

Without any other recourse, Peralta agrees, but makes it clear that he has made several promises to God that he will not break, considering the fact that it was God who helped him survive the hideous, endless battles. The pact is sealed. 

From here, a series of fantastical encounters unfold along way home, each one affecting Peralta more and more. The first night, the devil hosts a meeting of witches where he praises them for having sucked the lifeblood from unbaptized children. The next night, Peralta has a Dantesque dream (which may be also understood as "reality") in which his devil companion leads him through Hell.  

Unlike Dante's vision of Hell, there is no hierarchical organization -- things are quite chaotic and there is a lot of running around. Instead of orderly levels that descend into ultimate evil, Peralta seems to be making his way through a series of rooms or caves that have no particular order, a vision of Hell that recalls Spaniard Francisco de Quevedo's early 17th-century Sueños.

Many of the condemned quarrel with their demonic tortures, requesting an audience with Satan himself, arguing that their punishment should be forgiven because their sins helped the cause of Hell. After a while, Peralta approaches the most graphically and painfully tortured residents of Hell, those who do not even try to grapple with their torturers. These poor souls, the devil informs him, are those who in life "judged others" and "interfered with religion" -- an overt allusion to the Inquisition. 

I would argue, too, that an implicit critique of the Inquisition lies in the general chaotic nature of Hell itself. The self-righteous arguing of the condemned with their torturers, the requests to "see the boss," as if they'd be able to reach a deal if only they could talk to someone in charge -- all of these actions seem very, very like the way people (especially powerful people) interacted with the secular bureaucracy of the time. 

"A peasant brawl," Lucas Vorsterman I, circa 1620

When Peralta wakes up from this dream, the two continue their journey. Along the way, the soldier witnesses the way in which the devil sows mischief and anger everywhere he goes. He repeatedly insights townspeople to "jurar," or "swear," with popular expressions of exasperation: "Devil may take it," or "Devil take you!" As people utter these curses, the devil collects what has been commended to him. These scenes are more funny than cautionary, full of scatological and sexual anecdotes, along with a favorite source of humor during the day, a woman's wrath. 

In another folio, the devil shows Peralta a vision in a river that depicts palaces of the 7 deadly sins, personified allegorically as women, inviting sinners into their dwellings. The soldier is almost trapped permanently in this vision by Greed, who does not want to let him go. Her silent bodyguard, Midas, approaches Peralta with fingers outstretched, attempting to turn him into gold so his master can keep him forever. 

"The Allegory of Greed," Pieter Bruegel the Younger, early 16th century

What makes this scene particularly interesting, aside from the fact that da Silva has mixed medieval judeo-christian allegory with Greek mythology, is that in the first folio the devil helped Peralta dig up a forgotten chest of gold. Peralta sowed the coins into his clothes, so that the devil could not take them back. In a way, then, Peralta's physical person is already covered in "bedeviled" gold. This gold eventually serves to help Peralta escape his companion, when Peralta offers it all to a traveling priest's monastery if Peralta is allowed to take the cloth there.

In the end, Peralta succeeds in tricking the devil. He sneaks off one morning while the devil is settling a score with some boatmen (the devil had it in for the boatmen because he heard local people swearing that lot was worse than the devil, replacing their popular curses with "Boatman make take you!"). Peralta enters the monastery, thereby commending his own soul to God and the devil's gold to the service of Good. This ending reveals Peralta to be a more picaresque character than he initially appeared. The devil continues to wander in his friar's robes, recalling another classic trope, the Wandering Jew, as he travels from town to town, never settling, alway meddling.

I find this story fascinating not only because of the political risks it takes but also its mastery of popular style, humor and wisdom. Da Silva deftly interweaves a complex Good and a complex Bad, refusing paradoxically to allow the archetypal characters to occupy 2-dimensional roles. His idiosyncratic portrayal Hell and even the allegorical figures demonstrates his intense creativity and the high literary merit of his writing. Although his life was short, his writing has become immortal and echoes da Silva's criticisms, jokes... and ultimately, his deepest fears.

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What are your favorite tales about the devil or other tricksters? How are they outwitted?

Until next time -- keep rustling!

Antônio José da Silva

One of the books on my Five For Fourteen list was the early 18th-century story attributed to Antônio José da Silva, "The Jew." The book, Obras do diabinho da mão furada (roughly: "Tales of the Devil with the Pierced Hand") is made up of a series of 5 folios written in dialogue-laden prose, interspersed with rhymed verse and popular refrains. The integration of these techniques gives rise to a text that maintains a comedic tone while simultaneously delivering a didactic narrative, full of popular wisdom. In fact, almost all of da Silva's work (the majority of which is theatrical) is considered part of the joco-séria genre (literally: "jocular-serious"). Like his writing, da Silva himself represented a fascinating combination of seemingly disparate phenomena: he was, in a way, both Brazilian and Portuguese, Christian and Jewish, Lawyer and Literati, Celebrity and Villain. This post will hopefully offer a very brief history of da Silva's life, by way of a broad overview of his artistic production.

Devil puppet, made for the Teatro Nacional de São Carlos' theater
production of one of da Silva's plays (Source) 

It is not entirely surprising that several of the characters in Obras are heard using epigrams in Spanish, rather than Portuguese. This could simply be a symptom of the ongoing cultural and linguistic exchange between Hispanic and Lusophone communities of the peninsula. But beyond casual interaction of neighboring cultures, I think it is possible to understand the pan-iberian linguistic references as evidence of da Silva's efforts to establish a cultural critique that extended beyond Portugal's borders. 

Antônio José da Silva, "The Jew"

By including refrains of both Portuguese and Spanish (and Brazilian?) origin, da Silva reinforces the "universality" of the devil, a character who can trick in any language. Thus it becomes possible through this devil character to appraise a broader set of cultural features in western Europe and colonial American, chief among being the Inquisition. The use of multicultural epigrams critiquing the Holy Office are da Silva's attempt to align his criticism with what appears to be more "universal" grievances among Europeans and colonial subjects. When taking into consideration some of the more salient biographical details of Antônio José da Silva, this critique, and the techniques he uses in his writing, acquire even more significance.  

In 1705, Antônio José da Silva was born--not in Portugal--but in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. During this time, Portuguese cultural, legal and theological institutions represented an enormously influential element of Brazilian society. (Brazil was officially a colony of Portugal until 1822, when it became an equal member of the Portuguese United Kingdom; Brazil remained a monarchy until 1889.) As a result of this influence, the Inquisition was capable of extraditing Brazilian residents back to Portugal to be tried for any allegations against them. 

Puppets of Teresa (left) and Sancho (right) Pança - from the Teatro Nacional de São Carlos' theater production of da Silva's play about Quixote (Source)  

Antônio José da Silva’s parents were unlucky enough to have experienced first-hand the far-reaching legal jurisdiction of the Portuguese Holy Office. When da Silva was a mere seven years old, his "converso" family (newly converted to Christianity) was required to travel back to Lisbon where they were brought before the Inquisition for allegations of heretical “Judaizing.” These proceedings resulted in a conviction and punishment, which most likely consisted of having goods and property seized by the State. This sudden lack of resources led the family to settle permanently in Lisbon, where da Silva came of age and eventually died. 

Dom Quixote puppet, created by the
Teatro Nacional de São Carlos
(Source)

Da Silva's writing career began -- and quickly reached its apogee -- while he was completing his studies in law in his 20s. During this time, he began publishing theatrical works that included musical elements and which he called "óperas." These pieces were performed by puppets, rather than actors, in the Teatro do Bairro Alto. 

"The puppets used at the time, made of cork and wood," writes Argentinian researcher and stage director, Jacobo Kaufman, "were relatively tall, about one and a half meters in stature, hanging and manipulated on wires." The puppets were a key element of da Silva's theatrical productions, Kaufman says, because they were "allowed to use foul language and say things an actor or singer would not dare utter on stage." The use of puppets, therefore, provided a presumably safe distance from which da Silva could lambast the rich and powerful -- although this strategy did not always work, as evidenced by the fact that "The Jew" became da Silva's nickname after a lifetime of being persecuted by Inquisitors. Eventually, in fact, the Holy Office condemned Antônio José da Silva to a public death in an auto-da-fe when the young intellectual was only 34 years old. 

Da Silva had hoped that the use of puppets would successfully create a safe distance between the author and his critiques. And although that was ultimately not the case, it seems logical that the main character in Obras do diabinho da mão furada is the devil. The familiar trope of the devil can function in a way similar to the way the puppets function in da Silva's theater -- as a bulwark between the author and his chosen subject matter. The devil is, by his very nature, expected to refer to taboo subjects -- he is the father of bad behavior.

In this story, the devil does not disappoint, as he journeys alongside a hapless traveler, wreaking havoc on small Portuguese towns...and of course, getting all the most memorable lines!

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Tomorrow's post will feature an in-depth discussion of the book that you won't want to miss!

Until then - keep rustling!

Faint Rustlings

Coffee and Vitamin C for fall mornings

My petticoats have been silent for a month! You must've begun thinking that I got too carried away with the apocalypse theme of the last post... But I'm back, and ready to begin rustling the crinolines of literature and art once more.

Colorado has been changing colors these days, going from green and gray to bright fiery reds, oranges and yellows. I will have to get out and take some photographs of all the beautiful leaves before we get a heavy snow (we've already had several light snows!). As a result of the changing weather, mornings have been filled with cozy sweaters, muted light, and the satisfying crunch of leaves under boots. I really love this time of year; it's great reading weather.

A short stack of reading materials and a devil sculpture made by my husband, Emiliano Lake-Herrera 

Recently, my dissertation theme has begun to take shape... a very recognizable shape, as a matter of fact, complete with pointy tail and horns. I have decided to investigate the figure of the devil in Brazilian literature, most likely as expressed through the poetry chapbooks, Literatura de Cordel. Now that I have a general direction in which to go with my research, I've happily begun shirking all other responsibilities in order to read broadly about the idea of the devil and the idea of Brazil...

                       

The devil is often portrayed not as a towering black beast, but as a man. In fact, he is so like man that characters often mistake him for a simple stranger initially (in contrast, if an angel were to appear in a narrative, there is no mistaking their presence and their divine importance). So the devil appears not as an external push towards sin or wrongdoing through fear or coercion, but rather he seems to work more like a magnet, drawing out our trickster qualities when he is near. And the human characters' task is to out trick him-- we must be more clever, better liars, and as sneaky as possible in our dealings with him (human characters must out-devil the devil!).

I am really excited to be working on this project and have already read some amazing things, including an ethnography on Candomblé (an African spiritous religion) and I should really do a whole post on that book alone! So much rustling to do, my friends...

 In the meantime, I'm just happy to be back on the blog. I hope you have all been doing well and finding good things to read. What has been on your bookshelves recently? What has been rustling your petticoats???

My most faithful reading companion, on the job, on a chilly morning

Until next time-- keep rustling!