_Artist--Apostle--Prophet_
Few writers of the tremendously virile and significant school of modern
Spain summarize in their work so completely the tendencies of the
_resurgimiento_ as does Eduardo Zamacois. "Renaissance" is really the
watchword of his life and literary output. This man is a human dynamo, a
revitalizing force in Spanish life and letters, an artist who is more
than a mere artist; he is a man with a message, a philosophy and a
vision; and all these he knows how to clothe in a forceful, masterly and
compelling style, which, though not always lucid, always commands.
Zamacois _sees_ life, and paints it as it is, sometimes with humor,
often with pitiless, dissecting accuracy.
To me, Zamacois seems a Spanish Guy de Maupassant. He tells a story in
much the same way, with that grace and charm which only genius, coupled
to infinite hard work, can crystallize on the printed page. His subjects
are often much the same as those of de Maupassant. His sympathy for what
prigs call "low life"; his understanding of the heart of the common
people; his appreciation of the drama and pathos, the humor and tragedy
of ordinary, everyday life; his frank handling of the really vital
things--which we western-hemisphere hypocrites call improprieties and
turn up our noses at, the while we secretly pry into them--all mark him
as kin with the great French master. Kin, not imitator, Zamacois is
Zamacois, no one else. His way of seeing, of expressing, is all his; and
even the manner in which he handles the Castillian, constructing his own
grammatical forms and words to suit himself, mark him a pioneer. He is a
hard man to translate. Dictionaries are too narrow for the limits of his
vocabulary. Many of his words baffle folk who speak Spanish as a
birthright. He is a _jeune_ of the _jeunes_. A creative, not an
imitative force. Power, thought, vitality, constructive ideals: these
sketch the man's outlines. He comes of a distinguished family. The great
Spanish painter, of his same name, is a close relative.
His personality is charming. My acquaintance with him forms one of the
pleasantest chapters in a life of literary ups and downs. Ruddy,
vigorous, with short hair getting a bit dusty; with a contagious laugh
and a frequent smile; with a kind of gay worldliness that fascinates; a
nonchalant, tolerant philosophy; a dry humor; a good touch at the piano;
an excellent singing voice for the performance of _peteneras_ and
folk-songs without number; a splendid platform-presence as a lecturer on
Spanish literature and customs, Zamacois is an all-round man of intense
vitality, deep originality and human breadth. He is a wise man, widely
traveled, versed in much strange lore; and yet he has kept simplicity,
courtesy, humanity. Spain is decadent? Not while it can produce men,
thinkers, writers like this man--like this member of the new school that
calls itself, because it realizes its own historic mission, _el
resurgimiento_.
"Nothing binds nations together so securely," he said to me one day,
"and nothing so profoundly vitalizes them, as literature and art.
Commercial rivalries lead to war. But artistic and literary matters are
free and universal. Beauty cannot be appreciated, alone. It must be
shared, to be enjoyed. My ambition--or one of my ambitions--is to bring
the old world to the new, and to take back the new to the old." He spoke
with enthusiasm, for he is an enthusiast by temperament, filled with
nervous energy that looks out compellingly from his gray eyes--not at
all a Spanish type, as we conceive the typical Spaniard. "I am sorry you
Americans know so little of Spanish letters. You have always gone to
France, rather than to Spain, for your literary loves. To you, as a
race, the names of Galdós, Benavente, Emilia Pardo Bazan, Valle Inclán,
Martinez Ruiz, Baroja, Trigo, Machado, the Quintero, Carrere, Marquina,
Dicenta, Martinez Sierra and Linares Rivas are but names. The literary
world still looks to France; but Spain is slowly coming into her own.
Her language and literature are spreading. Civilization is beginning to
realize something of the tremendous fecundity and genius of the modern
Spanish literary renaissance."
When I asked him about himself, he tried to evade me. The man is modest.
He prefers to talk about Spain. Only with difficulty can one make him
reveal anything of his personality, his life.
"I have no biography," he laughed, when I insisted on knowing something
of him. "Oh, yes, I was born, I suppose. We all are. My birth took place
in Cuba, in 1878. When I was three, my parents took me to Brussels. I
grew up there, and in Spain and Paris. My education--the beginning of
it--was given me in Paris and at the University of Madrid. Degree?
Well--a '_Philosophe ès Lettres_.' I much prefer the title of
Philosopher of Humanity." That, alone, shows the type of mind inherent
in Zamacois.
His first novel was published when he was eighteen. He has since written
about thirty more, together with thousands of newspaper articles in _El
Liberal_, _El Imparcial_, and no end of others. He has produced ten
plays, and many volumes of criticisms, chronicles and miscellanea,
beside two volumes on the great war. His pen must have had few idle
moments!
In addition to all this, he has edited several papers. At twenty-two he
was editing _Germinal_. A Socialist? Yes. Once on a time more radical
than now, when the more universal tendencies have entered in, he still
believes in the principles of Socialism, as do so many of the "young,"
all over Europe.
He himself divides his work into three main epochs. The first has love
for its keynote; and here we find _El Seductor_, _Sobre el Abismo_,
_Punto-Negro_, _Loca de Amor_, _De Carne y Hueso_, _Duelo a Muerte_,
_Impresiones de Arte_, _Incesto_, _La Enferma_, _De mi Vida_, _Amar a
Obscuras_, _Bodas Trágicas_, _Noche de Bodas_, _El Lacayo_, and
_Memorias de una Cortesana_. The second epoch deals with death and
mysteries, the future life, religion. (Zamacois is religious in the
sense that so much of the young blood of the Latin world is
religious--negatively. They think more clearly than we Anglo-Saxons, in
some way, these Latins!) _El Otro_, _El Misterio de un Hombre Pequeñito_
and some others fall into this epoch. The third is characterized by a
wider vision, a more complete realization of the essential tragedy and
irony of human life, and is tempered by the understanding that comes to
all of us when graying hair and fading illusions tell us we are no
longer young. Here we find _Años de Miseria y de Risa_, _La Opinión
Ajena_ and stories of the type of those in the present volume. Surely
_El Hijo_ and _El Collar_ are cynical enough to rank with masterpieces
of cynicism in any tongue.
Zamacois' plays are distinguished by the same dramatic, often mystic,
elements that make his novels and short stories of such vital interest.
The more important titles are: _Teatro Galante_, _Nochebuena_, _El
Pasado Vuelve_, and _Frio_.
"Spain still dominates the whole of Spanish literature," says Zamacois.
"The Latin new world has had but slight influence thereon. And Spain is
fast becoming liberalized. _Resurgimiento_ is the pass-word, all along
the line. Even our women are becoming liberalized--or we are beginning
to emancipate them, a little. That is highly revolutionary--for Spain!
The war has flooded Spain with new ideas, not only abstract but
concrete. We are getting free speech and a free press--is America
winning more latitude, or shrinking to less?--and we are enforcing
education. We are reviving physically. Athletic sports are coming in.
These are all signs of the Renaissance, just as the new school of
writers is a sign. I suppose most of the new blood is indifferent to
religion. Spain has a small body of religionist fanatics, a strong
minority of non-religious, intellectual élite, and a vast body of
indifferent folk, slowly making progress toward enlightenment.
"Spain's misfortune is this--that you foreigners have seen in her only
the picturesque, the medieval, the exotic. Spain has scientific,
engineering and literary triumphs to be proud of now, as well as
ivy-grown cathedrals, bull-rings and palaces. Under her old, hard
carapace, new blood is leaping; it leaps from her strong heart, across
half the world.
"Our real rebirth took place after the Spanish-American war, when our
colonial system collapsed and we had to roll up our sleeves and support
ourselves by hard work. Defeat was to us a blessing in disguise. Spain
is to-day a much different and better land than it was twenty years ago.
For one thing, we use more soap, these days. As the church declines,
bathtubs multiply. _¿Tendré que decir más?_
"A new spirit and a new life are to-day stirring in ancient Iberia. A
splendid artistic and literary renaissance, vast commercial undertakings
and enormous manufacturing enterprises are all developing hand in hand.
Spain's past is glorious. Her future is both glorious and bright."