Who calls me,
whose voice pierces
the hard centre of the globe,
who gives me wings
to fly up from the depths?
Who takes me from myself, whose voice rings in my ears?
It is your Divine Director.
A sigh from my voice,
a sign from my hand comes
to summon you, to shape
your formless dark material.
What is your will? What do you want of me?
I am your Director, and you are my creation.
Today I have an idea you are sure to applaud.
I want to stage a play to celebrate my own power,
for if I consider the most natural way to
display my greatness, it is with celebrations
enacted by the whole of Nature;
it has always been true
that what most gladdens and amuses
is a well-applauded performance,
and human life is a performance,
that shall be the play
Heaven sees in your theatre today.
As I am the Director and the celebration is mine,
I should also choose my acting company.
It was I who chose the very first human beings,
made them in my image and likeness,
and they, in the Theatre of the World,
which contains four parts,
will portray their roles
with appropriate style.
I will give each one the part
that suits them best,
and because a production like this
must be set off by beautiful scenery,
stage-effects, and elegant costumes,
today I want you to joyfully and generously
prepare flattering illusions,
designing a stage that passes
from nothingness into being.
I will be the Director, for now,
you will be the Theatre, and Man will be the actor.
The above sample taken from the translation The Great Theatre of the World by Kathleen Jeffs (née Mountjoy) is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
I know that within man’s free will
if he were faced with the choice,
no one would choose to play
the role of the suffering;
everyone would want to play the
ruler and commander,
without seeing, without realising
that in so unique a play,
everything is pretence,
even if they think it is real life.
But I, the sovereign Director,
know well which role best fits
each one of them; and so I
will distribute them myself.
He gives them each a part.
You will play the King.
I am honoured.
The Lady, which is Human Beauty, you.
What good fortune!
You will play the Rich Man, the powerful man.
Then I have been born fortunate
to see the pure light of the sun.
You have to play the farm labourer.
Is it a difficult job or a gift you are giving me?
It is a job that requires hard work.
I will be a bad worker.
I swear, my Lord,
for although I am a son of Adam,
please don’t assign me such hard labour,
even if you give me possessions,
because I would much rather
sit around and not do much of anything.
[...] [omitting lines 349-68]
You will play the part of Discretion.
I am fortunate indeed.
You will play the miserable one, the beggar.
You give me that part?
You will die without ever being born.
That role won’t take much rehearsal.
In this way we have every living thing represented.
I am justice itself;
I assign each man the role he deserves.
If I could excuse myself from this role, I would.
The above sample taken from the translation The Great Theatre of the World by Kathleen Jeffs (née Mountjoy) is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
Calderón de la Barca, Pedro. 2008. Calderón de la Barca: Four Great Plays of the Golden Age, trans. Rick Davis. Lyme, NH, Smith and Kraus
Your Author calls—
And all it took to summon you
Was one sigh of my breath, one wave of my hand—
That’s what took you from your primal chaos,
Gave you form.
But—what do you want from me?
I’m your author, and you’re my creation.
Today I’m thinking of a project I want done,
And you’re the one I want to do it.
I want to stage a festival in honor of my powers.
Nature’s always celebrating me
With dazzling shows of sound and light,
But I’m in search of something different:
A simple comedy of human life.
Ages ago I cast mankind to be
My company, and they’re the one’s who’ll act
In this great theater of the world.
I’ll give a part to each one that appears.
And your role will be just as crucial,
Preparing all the wonders of the stage –
The costumes, scenery, props, the lights and sound—
You’ll be in charge of everything behind the scenes.
I’ll write the play.
Mankind will form the company of Actors.
My generous Author, whose every breath’s
Obeyed by everyone, you may indeed
Call me the Great Theater of the World,
Because upon my stage mankind will act,
And each one finds in me the things they need
To do their work—especially that crucial skill
Of following directions without the need for praise.
Since it’s obvious that even though the hard work’s mine,
The glory is all yours. And now to work:
It’s always better not to see
The stage before the play begins, so I’ve arranged
A black curtain to hide the scene.
Because as you know better than anyone,
It’s Chaos back there until everything is set.
They’ll all be running around in a fog until
I light the stage and chase away the mist.
I’ll use two lamps—
One is the divine lantern of the day,
And the other one lights up the night,
Along with those thousand little diamonds
That sparkle across the face of night and lend a hand.
In the first act, when everything’s still simple,
Innocent, and governed only by
The great law of nature, the first light of the first day
Will reveal a garden that’s so beautiful
That you’ll begin to wonder how nature knew
Enough to make such graceful works without
Even having a degree in art.
All the flowers, in or out of season, will burst forth
To see the Dawn. The trees will be filled with tasty fruit,
And none of it yet poisoned by that envious snake.
A thousand brilliant crystals will break themselves apart,
Flying up towards the still-dark sky
So that the Dawn can cry them down as tiny dewdrops.
To ensure abundance in this human heaven,
I’ll see that it’s provided well with virgin fields.
And wherever we need a mountain or a valley,
A mountain or a valley there shall be;
And rivers, wise and vigorous, digging their way
Through the earth in all directions, carrying their waters
To the wild arms of the sea.
So there it is—Scene One—
There’s not a single building yet, but in an instant
You will see republics, cities, palaces revealed.
And that will be Scene Two.
And when all the walking wears the mountains down
And the air grows tired of bearing all the birds,
I’ll change the scene completely:
A raging flood will cover all the world.
Everyone will drown.
And yet amid the ocean’s rise and fall
A ship will come, heaving blindly,
Its belly pregnant with mankind,
With birds and beasts. When Heaven signals peace,
A rainbow of three colors will appear
And the waves will take their proper places once again,
Gently caressing the edges of the earth,
Which once again reveals its true face,
Its fresh and newborn face, no longer wan and withered.
And so the First Act ends. Now the Second Act begins:
The act of the Commandments.
Here I’ll show great things:
The flight of the Hebrews headlong out of Egypt
Through the crystal waters of the Red Sea;
The waves will rise on either side so that
Everyone will see the miracle I’ve made.
And then with two great pillars of fire I’ll light
The desert all the way into the Promised Land.
Moses will catch a wind-swift cloud to reach
A mighty mountain where he will receive
The Laws. And then this second act will end
In a terrible eclipse. The Sun will seem
To flicker and almost die. Darkness and smoke.
A final paroxysm. The blue earth staggers.
Latitude and longitude tumble and are lost.
The mountains shake. The walls collapse,
Leaving all the transitory troubles
Of this world in ruins.
Now let’s hear a bit about the Third Act:
The Law of Grace, we’ll call it, and we’ll see
Portents great and small, which happily
I don’t have to spend much time describing here.
And so: three acts, three laws.
The Law of Nature, The Law of the Commandments,
And the Law of Grace. To end our revels
The whole great scene and all its apparatus
Will dissolve in one pure flame, one ray of light:
Because light’s the kind of theme our Author
Really likes. Wait! What am I saying?
Imagining it, I tremble, I am shaken;
We must delay this scene, this horrible end
So future centuries will never see it!
Now mankind will see prodigious things
Presented in three acts, and none of them
Will lack a thing through any fault of mine.
I’ve prepared the theater so well
That everything is here and ready now.
To make an entrance or an exit, see
How I’ve provided for two doors,
The only doors we need:
One is the Cradle, the other is the Grave.
As to the costumes, everything’s in order:
To make a King, royal purples and stately laurel;
For a valiant Captain, dress him in his armor,
Courage, and his victories. A scholar?
Books, scholastic robes; the cleric, dressed
In his devotions. Insults for the criminal,
Due honors to the noble; and for the masses,
Their right and proper liberties. To the worker,
Who has to labor for a living
(Thanks to that idiot Adam’s little slip),
I’ll give him simple tools. As for the one
Who has to play the Lady, I’ll adorn her
With those perfections that are sweet poison
To so many. Only the poor will not be dressed—
That part calls for nakedness.
And now no one can complain that they
Didn’t have the proper things to play their roles—
If they slip up, the fault will not be mine.
And since the stage is ready, Come on, mortals!
Come and get your costumes on, each one of you,
So that you can act in our Great Theater of the World!
The above sample taken from the translation The Great Theatre of the World (2008) by Rick Davis is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
Calderón de la Barca, Pedro. 2008. Calderón de la Barca: Four Great Plays of the Golden Age, trans. Rick Davis. Lyme, NH, Smith and Kraus
(enter the BEGGAR)
Of all who live on earth, whose misery
Is worse than mine? This ground's my feather bed,
The sky's my only shelter, so I have
No place to hide from frost and heat.
Hunger and thirst as well—Lord, give me patience!
Now what can I do to show off my riches?
And what can I do to endure my misfortunes?
(sings)
Do good, for God is God.
Oh, how that voice consoles me!
Oh, how it tires me out!
The King is coming to walk these gardens.
I feel a powerful ambition to be
Inferior to no one! None at all!
I’ll place myself in front of him to see
If my beauty can make him fall in love with me.
I’ll stay behind; I don’t want him to notice me
And say--“well, there’s a worker— and here I’ve got
A brand new tax for him to pay.” You see,
I don’t want any more favors.
(enter THE KING)
This world’s not so grand, now that I see it.
In my empire the narrowest spits of land
Contain whole provinces the size of this
Inferior corner of creation.
I am the absolute lord, the supreme master
Of everything surrounded by the sea
And lit by sun. My imperial vassals bow
Before me wherever I go. So tell me:
What should I be doing in the world?
(sings)
Do good, for God is God.
You’re prompting each one better
Than the one before.
I look out from deep within my misery—
And what’s before my eyes? What do I see?
Unhappily enough, the happiness
Of others. The King, great lord, enjoys
His majesty, not comprehending that
I need him; Beauty pays attention only
To herself, she doesn’t know that there is pain
And deprivation in the world; and there’s
Discretion, always occupied in prayer,
Who serves God well, it’s true, but always serves
In comfort. Then the worker: he comes home
From laboring in his field dead tired, and then
He finds an honest table set for him,
Not opulent, but ample. The rich man
Has everything he wants, twice over. I—
I, alone in all the world, need everything,
And so I come to everyone for help,
Not because I want to, understand:
Because I need to. Because they can all
Live just fine without me but I can’t
Live even for a day without their help.
I’ll beg from Beauty. In the name of God,
Can you spare some alms?
Oh fountains! Yes, you fountains over there,
Since you’re my mirrors of the moment, tell me—
Which dress do you like better on me?
And what about my hair? Straight? Curls?
Don’t you see me?
Don’t you see your begging is in vain?
Why should she take care of you,
Who is so careless of herself?
I’ll try the rich man. Sir, since you
Have so much more than you must need,
Please give me something.
Aren’t there other doors for you to knock on?
How dare you dare to be where I am.
You should get no closer than the threshold
Of the outer hallway—you should not
Under any circumstance be here. Where I am.
Please don’t treat me so unkindly.
Get out of here, rude beggar. Now.
You’ve got so much—enough for every pleasure—
Can’t you spare a little?
No!
The parable’s still with us-- of Lazarus
And the man of Avarice.
Now my necessity’s so great, it drives
Me mad, deprives me of my reason, makes
Me flout the law and beg from the King.
Alms, sir? Alms?
Ah yes. For things like this
I have my Ministry of Alms, Aid, Comfort,
And Assistance. Go see them. Goodbye.
A King will always cleanse his conscience
By passing on a problem to a Minister.
Mr. Worker? Since you receive God’s blessing
In the sprouting of your seeds, I guess
In my great need I turn to you.
If God
Did bless me, the blessing’s cost me plenty
Of plowing, sewing seeds, and sweat to
Make a penny from it. Tell me:
Aren’t you ashamed to beg from me?
Why don’t you get a service job? And if
You need a meal, here-- take this hoe
And earn one for yourself—or dig one up.
In this particular play today I have
The beggar’s part, and not the worker’s.
Well, my friend, I don’t suppose our author
Demands that you do absolutely nothing else
Than beg. You don’t have to be useless.
Sweat and toil are in the script whenever you are poor.
In the name of God, you’re hard on me, my brother.
And for your part, you’re demanding quite a bit.
At least give me some comfort.
(gives bread) Here, take this, and pardon me.
Oh, a bit of bread. Well, sister, now
I see we’re in your debt as well.
There’s trouble when Religion gives you bread.
Oh, my lord.
What’s going on?
Some trouble
That Religion’s poking into.
(DISCRETION begins to fall; the KING offers his arm)
I’m here to help you.
That’s good. No one can offer us the kind
Of help that you can.
I could certainly correct all these
Mistakes I’m seeing here, but then what good
Would free will be? I’ve given it to each
Of them, to see what choices they will make
In working out the action of the play.
That’s my project. Improvisation is
The order of the day. At least for now.
When things get too confusing,
I’ll simply have my prompter call:
(sings)
Do good, for God is God.
(speaks)Love your neighbor as yourself,
Do good, for God is God.
The above sample taken from the translation The Great Theatre of the World (2008) by Rick Davis is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
Calderón de la Barca, Pedro. 2008. Calderón de la Barca: Four Great Plays of the Golden Age, trans. Rick Davis. Lyme, NH, Smith and Kraus
I offered punishment or reward to those
Who played their parts in worse or better style,
And now they’ll see exactly what I meant by that.
(the Celestial Globe closes, with the AUTHOR inside)
Well—the play was awfully short!
But then the play of human life is never long;
The more so when you realize it all comes down
To just an entrance and an exit!
I can report they’ve left the theater now,
Reduced to their essential matter.
As dust they’ll scatter, just as they arrived.
Now as a good stage manager, my job
Is to make sure I get back everything I gave them.
I’ll station myself right here in this door,
To make sure my ghosts have not contrived
To steal any props or little scraps of costume.
As dust they’ll scatter, just as they arrived.
(enter the KING)
Tell me, what part did you play?
You’re the first one to come back.
What’s this—does the World forget me so quickly?
I’ve only just departed.
The World, I’m afraid, has indeed forgotten you.
We stood right there; right there, you gave me
All the gold the sun could offer-- there you
Dressed me in light and splendor, and the arms
Of dawn cradled me as I was born,
Until at last I came to lie in the arms of night.
Upon this stage I ruled, judged, commanded,
Reigned over lands without number;
There I found, inherited, acquired a royal
Store of memories; I had brave and loyal subjects
By the score; many victories were mine;
And I wrote the histories that made them famous.
I gave my favorites jewels, gold, and more;
And under rich embroidered tapestries,
I dressed in purples, clutched my scepters, wore
My laurels.
Well, it’s time to leave it all behind,
Take off the crown, your majesty is gone,
Get rid of it, it’s lost, forgotten.
(the KING takes off his gear).
Give back the trappings of your life.
The purple that you crowed about will soon
Be dressing someone else. You’ll find
You’re done with clutching scepters, wearing laurels.
Didn’t you give me all those ornaments?
Why are you taking back what you gave?
Because they weren’t a gift, no, they were lent
To you so you could play your part.
What’s left to me for having been the King?
Only this: a punishment or a reward.
Our Author will decide which one, according
To how well you played your part. Don’t look at me,
As I suspect you are, to know how well you did:
Just make sure I get back everything I gave you.
The above sample taken from the translation The Great Theatre of the World (2008) by Rick Davis is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
Entry written by Kathleen Jeffs. Last updated on 4 October 2010.