11.   Bells Of Bastabales     (Campanas de Bastabales)



Spelling Note

Another acceptable way of spelling "Bastabales" is "Bastavales"; the name derives from the Latin, "vasta vallis," meaning "vast valley."



Typographical Error In the Original

Original line 1.5.1 reads, "Non me roubaron, traidores," which makes stanzas 1.5-1.6 say, "Treacherous loves sweetly mad alas! / Sweetly mad loves alas! / Did not abduct me. / For love has fled / And loneliness arrived... / Consuming me with grief." The statement is incongruous and begs the question, "Then who abducted the protagonist?" Changing one crucial vowel in line 1.5.1. clears up the confusion. What Rosalía de Castro wrote in fact was: "Non me roubaran, traidores," and the typesetter mistook the highlighted "a" for an "o" and the error is understandable because De Castro's caligraphy sometimes produced a's that look like o's when joined to a consonant (see the fifth entry of the section "YouTube Videos" below).



Historical Background

De Castro was the daughter of Father José Martínez Viojo and María Teresa da Cruz de Castro e Abadía. Father Viojo was born in 1798 in the hamlet of Ortoño and he died at the age of seventy-three in the small parish of Iria Flavia on the outskirts of the town of Padrón which is 10 km away from Ortoño. María Teresa was born in 1804 in Iria Flavia and she died at the age of fifty-seven in the city of Santiago de Compostela, 20 km away.1 This family background explains why De Castro spent some time in Ortoño, Padrón and Santiago de Compostela.

The bells of Bastavales are audible in Ortoño which is 3 km away, but they are not audible in Padrón or in Santiago de Compostela. Hence De Castro must have lived in Ortoño long enough to retain a conscious remembrance of the bells. It is certain that she was cared for there until the age of four. Then she was sent to live with her mother and go to school in the town of Padrón. This poem certifies that she returned to Ortoño during the summer holidays and her frequent allusion to the river Sar testifies that the child had a wonderful time playing on its banks. Moreover the Viojo family hailed from Bastavales, guaranteeing that she went there to visit her relatives. Indeed the conviction persists among some neighbours that De Castro eventually took up residence in Soigrexa a place downslope from the church (xensboy, uploader of a Youtube video entitled, "The ringing bells of Bastavales in the summer of 2010," since removed).

Father Viojo and María Teresa kept seeing each other after the birth of their illegitimate daughter. He was chaplain of the Collegiate Church of Iria Flavia, 2 km from Padrón where María Teresa lived. The following excerpt of a letter written in 1923 demonstrates that De Castro knew her father. The writer cites Father Viojo's niece,

When she [the writer's aunt] was 19 years old in the spring of 1859, my aunt returned from school at noon and went as usual into the house where she lived with her uncle, and she bumped into Rosalía chatting with her father in the living room. She retired prudently, it was the first time that she had seen her cousin. She told me that her first impression [of De Castro] was that of a good-enough girl, neither very pretty nor homely, tall and charming.2
The letter elucidates many things. For example the line, "mill in the chestnut forest," of "Adiós rios, adios fontes" tabs the water mill owned by the Viojo family. The letter describes Rosalía's father as "tall, swarthy, plump, ironic and engaging," calling up the traditional portrayal of Friar Tuck. The letter discloses that María Teresa had intended to abandon De Castro in a baby-drop-off facility run by the church, but the father intervened and sent the newborn to Ortoño instead, first under the care of a tailor named Lesteiro and subsequently into the care of Viojo's own family.

To plot the trip taken by the protagonist of "Campanas de Bastabales" the reader must accept the premise that "yonder" (1.4.2-3) is Ortoño or more generally the valley known as Val da Mahía which encompasses both Ortoño and Bastavales. The protagonist no longer dwells there and she must cross hillocks to reach the valley (2.1.2). Where does she dwell now? Section V provides the important clue that the clouds rush toward her house (5.1.2-3). The usual direction of strong winds accompanied by cloudy weather in Val da Mahía is southwesterly or westerly. Therefore her home must lie east of Bastavales, be within walking distance and beyond a range of hills. The city of Santiago de Compostela is the only one of De Castro's known addresses that fits. Thus the poem depicts a journey from the city of Santiago de Compostela to the hamlet of Bastavales.

"Campanas de Bastabales" has the following background script. Section I voices De Castro's regret at having left Bastavales lured by her "treacherous, sweetly mad love" (for Manuel Murguía). The couple married in Madrid in 1858 and settled down in Santiago de Compostela the following year.3 Section II starts her real or imagined walk from the city to her beloved hamlet. In sections III and IV the protagonist exults as she strolls toward Bastavales. Surprisingly she does not reach her destination. Nightfall finds her seated on a small boulder by the trail, a cue that the trip is partly fictitious. Section V reflects De Castro's anguish at having been left alone in her new home. The neighbours are uncaring ("without a friend") her husband is away ("for whom I live pining") and her mother dead ("everyone has departed").4 Under this script the Ave María of the last two stanzas is rung by the bells of St. James' Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela. In addition the peculiar dashed line found on this section may indicate the excision of lines that are too revealing.


1 Xosé Docampo, Tito 11. Rosalía de Castro (nai das letras galegas). Xenealoxía.org. Investigando a historia familiar en Galicia.
2 Luis Tobío Fernández. Letter to Bouza-Brey. August 20, 1923. Historia Local de Ortoño e A Maía.
3 Manuel Murguía. Galician Wikipedia.
4 De Castro's mother died in Santiago de Compostela on June 24, 1862, suggesting that this sad poem was written shortly afterwards.



Affectionate Diminutives

Explanation of some words, terms or expressions

Soidades (refrain, line 3). The best translation may be "to have the blues." Soidá, saudade is dejection triggered by solitude, separation or frustration. At the beginning of the poem "soidades" bespeaks her longing to see Bastavales, at the close her loneliness.

as laradas das casiñas (5.3.2). It was customary to kindle a small blaze (larada) by the gate of a house to protect the hearth from evil spirits or natural dangers.1

The call of the Ave María (5.3.6). That is the Angelus which was rung three times a day: 6:00 AM, noon and 6:00 PM.


1 Marisol Filgueira Bouza. "5 Rituales como terapéuticos: El duelo, el Carnaval, las tribus urbanas, la noche de San Juan, y los ritos populares y grupos terapéuticos." PDF file.



YouTube Videos

Troubadour and songwriter Amancio Prada arranged sections I and III of the poem (first two entries); the audio of the first entry is from the 1997 album Rosas a Rosalía; the audio of the second entry is from the 1991 album Trovadores, Místicos y Románticos.

Uxía arranged section III of the poem with her own melody (third entry).

Soprano María Orán and the Extremadura Symphony Orchestra offer an operatic interpretation of section I (fourth entry).

Amancio Prada, María del Mar Bonet and the Galicia Symphony Orchestra. This song covers section I.

Amancio Prada. This song covers section III.

Uxía from the 2013 album Rosalía Pequeniña.

María Orán and the Extremadura Symphony Orchestra.

De Castro's caligraphy.
 
 
 

Campanas de Bastabales,
cando vos oio tocar,
mórrome de soidades
.

I

Cando vos oio tocar,
campaniñas, campaniñas,
sin querer torno a chorar.

Cando de lonxe vos oio,
penso que por min chamades,
e das entrañas me doio.

Dóiome de dor ferida,
que antes tiña vida enteira,
i hoxe teño media vida.

Solo media me deixaron
os que de aló me trouxeron,
os que de aló me roubaron.

Non me roubaran, traidores,
¡ai!, uns amores toliños,
¡ai!, uns toliños amores.

Que os amores xa fuxiron,
as soidades viñeron...
de pena me consumiron.

II

Aló pola mañanciña
subo enriba dos outeiros,
lixeiriña, lixeiriña.

Como unha craba lixeira,
para oír das campaniñas
a batalada pirmeira.

A pirmeira da alborada
que me traen os airiños
por me ver máis consolada.

Por me ver menos chorosa,
nas súas alas ma traen
rebuldeira e queixumbrosa.

Queixumbrosa e retembrando
por antre a verde espesura,
por antre o verde arborado.

E pola verde pradeira,
por riba da veiga llana,
rebuldeira e rebuldeira.

III

Paseniño, paseniño,
vou pola tarde calada,
de Bastabales camiño.

Camiño do meu contento;
i en tanto o sol non se esconde,
nunha pedriña me sento.

E sentada estou mirando
como a lúa vai saíndo,
como o sol se vai deitando.

Cal se deita, cal se esconde,
mentras tanto corre a lúa
sin saberse para donde.

Para donde vai tan soia,
sin que aos tristes que a miramos
nin nos fale, nin nos oia.

Que si oíra e nos falara,
moitas cousas lle dixera,
moitas cousas lle contara.

IV

Cada estrela, o seu diamante;
cada nube, branca pruma;
triste a lúa marcha diante.

Diante marcha crarexando
veigas, prados, montes, ríos,
donde o día vai faltando.

Falta o día, e noite escura
baixa, baixa pouco a pouco,
por montañas de verdura.

De verdura e de follaxe,
salpicada de fontiñas
baixo a sombra do ramaxe.

Do ramaxe donde cantan
paxariños piadores
que ca aurora se levantan.

Que ca noite se adormecen
para que canten os grilos
que cas sombras aparecen.

V

Corre o vento, o río pasa;
corren nubes, nubes corren
camiño da miña casa.

Miña casa, meu abrigo:
vanse todos, eu me quedo
sin compaña, nin amigo.

Eu me quedo contemprando
as laradas das casiñas
por quen vivo suspirando.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ven a noite..., morre o día,
as campanas tocan lonxe
o tocar da Ave María.

Elas tocan pra que rece;
eu non rezo, que os saloucos,
afogándome parece
que por min tén que rezar.

Campanas de Bastabales,
cando vos oio tocar,
mórrome de soidades
.

Bells of Bastabales,
I die of longing
Whenever I hear you ring
.

I

When I hear you ring,
Dear bells, dear bells,
Without intending to I weep again.

When I hear you afar
I fancy that you are calling to me,
And it hurts me deep inside.

I hurt wounded by pain,
For I was fully alive then
And half alive today.

Just half alive left me they
Who brought me over from yonder,
Who abducted me yonder.

Would that treacherous loves sweetly mad alas!
Sweetly mad loves alas!
Had not abducted me.

For love has fled
And loneliness arrived...
Consuming me with grief.

II

In the early morning hours
I go up the hillocks,
Fleet-footed, fleet-footed.

Fleet-footed like a she-goat
To hear the first clang
Of the dear bells.

The dawn's first which
Kind breezes carry
To see me more comforted.

They fetch it on their wings,
Stirring and groaning,
To see me less tearful.

Groaning and reverberating
Through the green thickets,
Through the green groves.

And over the green prairie,
Over the flat lowland,
Stirring and stirring.

III

I make my way to Bastabales,
Leisurely, leisurely,
In the quiet afternoon.

Pathway of my delight;
And while the sun doesn't hide
I sit on a small boulder.

And seated I am watching
How the moon keeps rising,
How the sun keeps declining.

How it lies low, how it hides,
Meanwhile the moon races
To no one knows where.

Where does she head to so alone
Without hearing or talking to us
Sad ones who gaze at her?

For if she heard and talked to us
Many things I'd say to her,
Many things I'd tell her.

IV

The moon marches on, forlorn,
Each star her diamond,
Each cloud a white feather.

She marches on brightening
Lowlands, grazing fields, hills, streams,
Where daylight is fading.

It's the close of day, and the dark night
Descends, descends little by little,
Over mountains of greenery.

Of greenery and leafage,
Splattered with dear fountains
Beneath the shade of the many branches.

Of the many branches where sing
Little chirping birds
That get up with the dawn.

That fall asleep at night
To let sing the crickets
Which emerge with the shadows.

V

By rushes the wind, the river flows by,
By rush the clouds, the clouds rush by
On their way to my house.

My house, my shelter:
Everyone departs, I am left
Without company or friend.

I am left watching
The guardian fires of the small houses
On account of whom I live pining for.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Night arrives...dies the day,
The bells in the distance ring out
The call of the Ave María.

They summon me to prayer;
I don't pray, the sobs
Choking me, it seems,
Must pray on my behalf.

Bells of Bastabales,
I die of loneliness
Whenever I hear you ring
.




Eduardo Pondal

Translation from Galician to English of 11 poems by Eduardo Pondal


Manuel Curros Enríquez

Translation from Galician to English of 4 Classic Emigration Ballads