To enter into a description of the contents of this universally known

master-piece, or to give a circumstantial analysis of its plan,

would be equally superfluous. A few words, however, on the happy and

original idea which forms the foundation of the whole work may here be

introduced. It has often been said, though the opinion has, perhaps,

not been fully weighed, nor even expressed with sufficient precision,

that the venerable knight of La Mancha is the immortal representative

of all men of exalted imagination, who carry the noblest enthusiasm to

a pitch of folly; because with understandings in other respects sound,

they are unable to resist the fascinating power of a self-deception,

by which they are induced to regard themselves as beings of a superior

order. None but an experienced observer of mankind, endowed with

profound judgment, and a genius to the penetrating glance of which one

of the most interesting recesses of the human heart had been newly

disclosed, could have seized the idea of such a romance with energetic

decision. None but a poet and a man of wit could have thrown so much

poetic interest into the execution of that idea; and none but an author

who had at his disposal all the richness and variety of one of the

finest languages in the world, could have diffused over such a work

that classical perfection of expression, which gives the stamp of

excellence to the whole. The originality of the idea of Don Quixote is

not only historically demonstrated, by no romance of a similar kind

having previously existed--for pictures of ingenious roguery in the

style of Lazarillo de Tormes, belong to a totally different species of

comic romance--but it is also physiologically certain, that a creative

fancy, which was only capable of continuing to invent where another had

stopt, could not, with the boldness of Cervantes, have combined traits,

apparently heterogeneous, in order thereby to exhaust to the utmost

the idea by which he was inspired. Those who are acquainted with Don

Quixote only through the medium of the common translations, will not

certainly be inclined to regard it as a work of inspiration, in the

highest sense of the word. But it is impossible to form a more mistaken

notion of this work, than to consider it merely as a satire, intended

by the author to ridicule the absurd passion for reading old romances

of chivalry. Doubtless this is one of the objects which Cervantes had

in view; for among the romances which the Spanish public indefatigably

perused, few were tolerable, and only one or two possessed first-rate

merit. We must not, however, attribute to him the absurd conceit of

wishing to prove the prejudicial influence, which the reading of bad

romances produced on the taste of the Spanish nation, by exhibiting

the individual folly of an enthusiast, who would have been just as

likely to have lost his senses by the study of Plato or Aristotle, as

by the reading of romances of chivalry. The merit and the richness

of the idea of a man of elevated character, excited by heroic and

enthusiastic feelings to the extravagant pitch of wishing to restore

the age of chivalry, must be regarded as the seed of inspiration

whence the whole work originated. As a poet, Cervantes was aware of

the resources which this idea furnished; and he must also have been

satisfied with his power to prosecute it, as he has proved in the

execution what he was capable of accomplishing. In the invention of a

series of comic situations in the most burlesque style, he found full

scope for the exercise of his fancy. The painting of these situations

afforded opportunities for the free and energetic developement of his

poetic talent. Finally, he knew how to combine the knowledge of human

nature, which he had acquired during a life of fifty years, with the

most delicate satire, so as to render his comic romance also a book of

moral instruction, to which no parallel existed. These brief remarks

on the idea which forms the foundation of the romance of Don Quixote,

must be allowed to supply the place of a detailed analysis of the

manner in which that celebrated work is composed. Other critics have

sufficiently proved that the composition is by no means faultless.

In the preface to the second part, Cervantes has himself pointed out

some inadvertences which produce incongruities in the history, but he

disdained to correct them, because he conceived that they had been too

severely condemned.

The character of the execution of this comic romance, is no less

original than the invention. Character in the strictest sense of the

term is here meant. The superficial sketches of a sportive fancy, for

which the Spaniards in the age of Cervantes entertained so high a

predilection, had not sufficient interest for him. He felt a passion

for the vivid painting of character, as all his successful works

prove. Under the influence of this feeling, he not only drew the

natural and striking portrait of his heroic Don Quixote, so truly

noble-minded, and so enthusiastic an admirer of every thing good and

great, yet having all those fine qualities, accidentally blended

with a relative kind of madness; but he likewise pourtrayed, with no

less fidelity, the opposite character of Sancho Panza, a compound of

grossness and simplicity, whose low selfishness leads him to place

blind confidence in all the extravagant hopes and promises of his

master. The subordinate characters of the great picture exhibit equal

truth and decision: but the characteristic tone of the whole is still

more remarkable. A translator cannot commit a more serious injury to

Don Quixote, than to dress that work in a light anecdotical style. A

style perfectly unostentatious and free from affectation, but at the

same time solemn, and penetrated, as it were, with the character of the

hero, diffuses over this comic romance an imposing air, which, were it

not so appropriate, would seem to belong exclusively to serious works,

and which is certainly difficult to be seized in a translation. But it

is precisely this solemnity of language, which imparts a characteristic

relief to the comic scenes. It is the genuine style of the old romances

of chivalry, improved and applied in a totally original way; and only

where the dialogue style occurs is each person found to speak, as he

might be expected to do, and in his own peculiar manner. But wherever

Don Quixote himself harangues, the language re-assumes the venerable

tone of the romance style;[334] and various uncommon expressions of

which the hero avails himself, serve to complete the delusion of

his covetous squire, to whom they are only half intelligible.[335]

This characteristic tone diffuses over the whole a poetic colouring,

which distinguishes Don Quixote from all comic romances in the

ordinary style; and that poetic colouring is moreover heightened by

the judicious choice of episodes. The essential connection of these

episodes with the whole has sometimes escaped the observation of

critics, who have regarded, as merely parenthetical, those parts in

which Cervantes has most decidedly manifested the poetic spirit of

his work. The novel of _El Curioso Impertinente_, cannot indeed be

ranked among the number of these essential episodes; but the charming

story of the shepherdess Marcella, the history of Dorothea, and the

history of the rich Camacho and the poor Basilio, are unquestionably

connected with the interest of the whole. These serious romantic parts,

which are not, it is true, essential to the historical connection, but

strictly belong to the characteristic dignity of the whole picture,

also prove how far Cervantes was from the idea usually attributed to

him of writing a book merely to excite laughter. The passages which

common readers feel inclined to pass over, are, in general, precisely

those in which Cervantes has shewn himself more a poet, and for which

he has manifested an evident predilection. On such occasions he also

introduces among his prose, episodical verses, which are for the most

part excellent in their kind, and which no translator can omit without

doing violence to the spirit of the original.

Were it not for the happy art with which Cervantes has contrived to

preserve an intermediate tone between pure poetry and prose, Don

Quixote would not deserve to be cited as the first classic model of

the modern romance or novel. It is, however, fully entitled to that

distinction. Cervantes was the first writer who formed the genuine

romance of modern times on the model of the original chivalrous

romance, that equivocal creation of the genius and the barbarous

taste of the middle ages. The result has proved that modern taste,

however readily it may in other respects conform to the rules of the

antique, nevertheless requires in the narration of fictitious events,

a certain union of poetry with prose which was unknown to the Greeks

and Romans in their best literary ages. It was only necessary to

seize on the right tone, but that was a point of delicacy which the

inventors of romances of chivalry were not able to comprehend. Diego

de Mendoza, in his Lazarillo de Tormes, departed too far from poetry.

Cervantes, in his Don Quixote, restored to the poetic art the place

it was entitled to hold in this class of writing: and he must not

be blamed if cultivated nations have subsequently mistaken the true

spirit of his work, because their own novelists had led them to regard

common prose as the style peculiarly suited to romance composition.

Don Quixote is moreover the undoubted prototype of the comic novel.

The humorous situations are, it is true, almost all burlesque, which

was certainly not necessary, but the satire is frequently so delicate,

that it escapes rather than obtrudes on unpractised attention; as for

example in the whole picture of the administration of Sancho Panza in

his imaginary island. Besides, the language even in the description

of the most burlesque situations, never degenerates into vulgarity.

Throughout the whole work it is in general noble, correct, and so

highly polished, that it would not disgrace even an ancient classic

of the first rank.[336] This explanation of a part of the merits of

a work, which has been so often wrongly judged, may, perhaps, seem to

belong rather to the eulogist than the calm and impartial historian.

Let those who may be inclined to form this opinion, study Don Quixote

in the original language, and study it rightly, for it is not a book

to be judged by a superficial perusal. But care must be taken that the

intervention of many subordinate traits, which were intended to have

only a transient national interest, does not produce an error in the

estimate of the whole.

It would be scarcely possible to arrange the other works of Cervantes

according to a critical judgment of their importance; for the merits

of some consist in the admirable finish of the whole, while others

exhibit the impress of genius in the invention, or some other

individual feature. A distinguished place must, however, be assigned

to the _Novelas Exemplares_ (Moral or Instructive Tales.) They are

unequal in merit as well as in character. Cervantes, doubtless,

intended that they should be to the Spaniards nearly what the novels

of Boccacio were to the Italians: some are mere anecdotes, some are

romances in miniature, some are serious, some comic, and all are

written in a light, smooth, conversational style. With regard to the

practical knowledge which these novels are intended to convey to the

reader, Cervantes has effected more than Boccacio; and at all events

he extended the literature of his country by their publication, for no

similar compositions had previously existed in the Spanish language.

In them Cervantes has again proved himself the experienced judge of

mankind, and has given, with admirable success, truly genuine and

judicious representations of nature, in the various situations of real

life. The reader must naturally feel inclined to pardon the want of

plan which this little collection of novels occasionally exhibits,

when he finds that the author through the medium of his characters

relates and describes all that he had himself seen and experienced

under similar circumstances, particularly during his abode in Italy

and Africa. The history of the _Licenciado Vidriera_, (the Glass

Licentiate) which is the fifth in the collection, is totally destitute

of plan, and is related in simple prose like a common anecdote. But the

novel of _La Gitanilla_, (the Gipsey Girl) is ingeniously conceived and

poetically coloured; and the same may be said of some others. The story

of _Rinconete y Cortadilla_, or the Lurker and the Cutter, as the names

with reference to their etymology may be translated,[337] is a comic

romance in miniature.

_Galatea_, the pastoral romance which Cervantes wrote in his youth, is

a happy imitation of the Diana of Montemayor, but exhibiting a still

closer resemblance to Gil Polo’s continuation of that poem.[338] Next

to Don Quixote and the _Novelas Exemplares_, this pastoral romance is

particularly worthy of attention, as it manifests in a striking way

the poetic direction in which the genius of Cervantes moved even at

an early period of life, and from which he never entirely departed in

his subsequent writings. As, however, the Galatea possesses but little

originality, it constantly excites the recollection of its models, and

particularly of the Diana of Gil Polo. Of the invention of the fable

likewise, but little can be said, for though the story is continued

through six books, it is still incomplete. In composing this pastoral

romance, Cervantes seems to have had no other object than to clothe

in the popular garb of a tale, a rich collection of poems in the old

Spanish and Italian styles, which he could not have presented to the

public under a more agreeable form. The story is merely the thread

which holds the beautiful garland together; for the poems are the

portion of the work most particularly deserving attention. They are

as numerous as they are various: and should the title of Cervantes

to rank, with respect to verse as well as to prose, among the most

eminent poets, or his originality in versified composition, be called

in question, an attentive perusal of the romance of Galatea must banish

every doubt on these points. It was remarked by the contemporaries of

Cervantes that he was incapable of writing poetry, and that he could

compose only beautiful prose; but that observation had reference solely

to his dramatic works. Every critic, sufficiently acquainted with his

lyrical compositions, has rendered justice to their merits. From the

romance of Galatea it is obvious that Cervantes composed in all the

various kinds of syllabic measure which were used in his time. He even

occasionally adopted the old dactylic stanza.[339] He appears to have

experienced some difficulty in the metrical form of the sonnet, and

his essays in that style are by no means numerous;[340] but his poems

in Italian octaves display the utmost facility; and among the number,

the song of Calliope in the last book of the Galatea is remarkable for

the graceful ease of the versification.[341] In the same manner as

Gil Polo in his Diana makes the river Turia pronounce the praises of

the celebrated Valencians, the poetic fancy of Cervantes summoned the

muse Calliope before the shepherds and shepherdesses, to render solemn

homage to those contemporaries whom he esteemed worthy of distinction

as poets. But the critic can scarcely venture to place reliance on

praises which are dealt out with such profuse liberality. The most

beautiful poems in the Galatea are a few in the cancion style, some

of which are in iambics,[342] and some in trochaic or old Spanish

verse.[343] Cervantes has here and there indulged in those antiquated

and fantastic plays of wit, which at a subsequent period he himself

ridiculed.[344] The prose of the Galatea, which is in other respects so

beautiful, is also occasionally overloaded with a sort of epithetical

ostentation.[345]

Cervantes displays a totally different kind of poetic talent in

the _Viage al Parnaso_, (Journey to Parnassus) a work which cannot

properly be ranked in any particular class of literary composition, but

which, next to Don Quixote, is the most exquisite production of its

extraordinary author. The chief object of the poem is to satirize the

false pretenders to the honours of the Spanish Parnassus, who lived

in the age of the author. But this satire is of a peculiar character:

it is a most happy effusion of sportive humour, and it yet remains a

matter of doubt whether Cervantes intended to praise or to ridicule

the individuals whom he points out as being particularly worthy of the

favour of Apollo. He himself says--“Those whose names do not appear

in this list, may be just as well pleased as those who are mentioned

in it.” To characterize true poetry according to his own poetic

feelings; to manifest in a decided way his enthusiasm for the art even

in his old age; and to hold up a mirror for the conviction of those

who were only capable of making rhymes and inventing extravagances,

seem to have been the objects which Cervantes had principally in view

when he composed this satirical poem. Concealed satire, open jesting,

and ardent enthusiasm for the beautiful, are the boldly combined

elements of this noble work. It is divided into eight chapters, and

the versification is in tercets. The composition is half comic and

half serious. After many humorous incidents, Mercury appears to

Cervantes, who is represented as travelling to Parnassus in the most

miserable condition; and the god salutes him with the title of the

“Adam of poets.”[346] Mercury after addressing to him many flattering

compliments, conducts him to a ship entirely built of different kinds

of verse, and which is intended to convey a cargo of Spanish poets to

the kingdom of Apollo. The description of the ship is an admirable

comic allegory.[347] Mercury shews him a list of the poets with

whom Apollo wishes to become acquainted; and this list, owing to the

problematic nature of its half ironical and half serious praises, has

proved a stumbling block to commentators. In the midst of the reading

Cervantes suddenly drops the list. The poets are now described as

crowding on board the ship in numbers as countless as drops of rain in

a shower, or grains of sand on the sea coast; and such a tumult ensues,

that to save the ship from sinking by their pressure, the sirens raise

a furious storm. The flights of imagination become more wild as the

story advances. The storm subsides, and is succeeded by a shower of

poets, that is to say, poets fall from the clouds. One of the first

who descends on the ship is Lope de Vega, on whom Cervantes seizes

this opportunity of pronouncing a pompous eulogium. The remainder of

the poem, a complete analysis of which would occupy too much space,

proceeds in the same spirit. One of the most beautiful pieces of verse

ever written by Cervantes, is his description of the goddess Poesy,

whom he sees in all her glory in the kingdom of Apollo.[348] To this

fine picture the portrait of the goddess Vain-Glory, who afterwards

appears to the author in a dream, forms an excellent companion.[349]

Among the passages which for burlesque humour vie with Don Quixote is

the description of a second storm, in which Neptune vainly endeavours

to plunge the poetasters to the bottom of the deep. Venus prevents

them from sinking, by changing them into empty gourds and leather

bottles.[350] At length a formal battle is fought between the real

poets and some of the poetasters. The poem is throughout interspersed

with singularly witty and beautiful ideas; and only a very few passages

can be charged with feebleness or langour. It has never been equalled,

far less surpassed by any similar work, and it had no prototype. The

language is classical throughout; and it is only to be regretted, that

Cervantes has added to the poem a comic supplement in prose, in which

he indulges a little too freely in self-praise.

The dramatic compositions of Cervantes, were they all extant, would

be the most voluminous, though, certainly, not the best portion of

his works. Perhaps those which are now lost may yet be recovered;

for a fortunate accident brought to light two dramas, which had

remained concealed in manuscript till near the end of the eighteenth

century.[351] Cervantes includes some of his dramas among those

productions with which he was himself most satisfied; and he seems to

have regarded them with the greater self-complacency in proportion

as they experienced the neglect of the public.[352] This conduct has

sometimes been attributed to a spirit of contradiction, and sometimes

to vanity. The editor of the eight plays (chiefly heroic) and eight

interludes, which were the last dramatic productions of Cervantes, has

adopted the absurd notion, that Cervantes in writing these pieces,

intended to parody and ridicule the style of Lope de Vega;[353] which

is merely saying that he attacked the whole literary public of

Spain in the most discourteous way. No traces of parody appear in

any of those dramas. They are, however, with the exception of a few

successful scenes, so dull and tedious, that one might be inclined to

regard them as counterfeit productions by another author, were it not

that their authenticity seems to be sufficiently proved. The little

interludes alone exhibit burlesque humour and dramatic spirit. That

the penetrating and profound Cervantes should have so mistaken the

limits of his dramatic talent, would not be sufficiently accounted for

even by his vanity, had he not unquestionably proved by his tragedy

of Numantia how pardonable was the self-deception of which he could

not divest himself. Cervantes was entitled to consider himself endowed

with a genius for dramatic poetry. But he could not preserve his

independence in the conflict he had to maintain with the conditions

required by the Spanish public in dramatic composition; and when he

sacrificed his independence, and submitted to rules imposed by others,

his invention and language were reduced to the level of a poet of

inferior talent. The intrigues, adventures, and surprises which in that

age characterized the Spanish drama, were ill suited to the genius

of Cervantes. His natural style was too profound and precise to be

reconciled to fantastical ideas, expressed in irregular verse. But he

was Spaniard enough to be gratified with dramas, which, as a poet, he

could not imitate; and he imagined himself capable of imitating them,

because he would have shone in another species of dramatic composition,

had the public taste accommodated itself to his genius.

With all its imperfections and faults, Cervantes’s tragedy of Numantia

is a noble production, and, like Don Quixote, it is unparalleled in the

class of literature to which it belongs. It proves that under different

circumstances the author of Don Quixote might have been the Æschylus of

Spain. The conception is in the style of the boldest pathos, and the

execution, at least taken as a whole, is vigorous and dignified. The

ancient Roman History from which Cervantes selected the story of the

destruction of Numantia, afforded but few positive facts of which he

could avail himself in his heroic tragedy. He therefore invented along

with the subject of his piece a peculiar style of tragic composition,

in doing which he did not pay much regard to the theory of Aristotle.

His object was to produce a piece full of tragic situations, combined

with the charm of the marvellous. The tragedy is written in conformity

with no rules save those which Cervantes prescribed to himself;

for he felt no inclination to imitate the Greek forms. The play is

divided into four acts (_jornadas_), and no chorus is introduced. The

dialogue is sometimes in tercets, and sometimes in redondillas, and

for the most part in octaves, without any regard to rule. The diction

does not maintain equal dignity throughout; but it is in no instance

affected or bombastic. Cervantes has evinced admirable skill in

gradually heightening the tragic interest to the close of the piece.

The commencement is, however, somewhat cold and tedious. Scipio appears

with his generals in the Roman camp before Numantia. In a speech which

might have been improved by abridgment, he reprimands his troops,

whose spirit has begun to give way to effeminacy. The soldiers are

re-inspired with courage. Numantian ambassadors enter with proposals

for peace, which are rejected. It is here that the tragedy properly

begins. Spain appears as an allegorical character, and she summons the

river Duero, or Durius, on whose banks Numantia stands. The old river

god appears, attended by a retinue of the deities of the smaller rivers

of the surrounding country. These ideal characters consult the book of

fate, and discover that Numantia cannot be saved. Whatever may be said

against the bold idea of endeavouring to augment the tragic pathos by

means of allegorical characters, it must be acknowledged that in this

case the result of the experiment is not altogether unsuccessful, and

Cervantes justly prides himself in the novelty of the idea. The scene

is now transferred to Numantia. The senate is assembled to deliberate

on the affairs of the city, and among the members the character of

Theagenes shines with conspicuous lustre. Bold resolutions are adopted

by the senate. The transition into light redondillas, for the purpose

of interweaving with the serious business of the fable, the loves

of a young Numantian named Morandro, and his mistress, is certainly

a fault in the composition of the tragedy. But to this fault we are

indebted for some of the finest scenes in the following act. A solemn

sacrifice is prepared; but amidst the ceremony an evil spirit appears,

seizes the victim, and extinguishes the fire. The confusion in the

town increases. A dead man is resuscitated by magic, and the scene in

which this incident occurs has a most imposing effect.[354] All hope

has now vanished. After the return of a second unsuccessful embassy,

the Numantians, by the advice of Theagenes, resolve to burn all their

valuable property, then to put their wives and children to death, and

lastly to throw themselves in the flames, lest any of the inhabitants

of the town should become the slaves of the Romans. Scenes of the most

heart-rending domestic misery, and the noblest traits of patriotism

then ensue.[355] Famine rages in Numantia.[356] Morandro, accompanied

by one of his friends, ventures to enter the Roman camp. He returns

with a piece of bread smeared with blood, and, presenting it to his

famished mistress, falls at her feet mortally wounded.[357] The action

proceeds with unabated interest to the end. An allegorical character of

Fame enters at the close of the piece, and announces the future glory

of Spain.

Allegorical characters, for instance, Necessity and Opportunity,

likewise appear in Cervantes’s comedy, _El Trato de Argel_ (Life

in Algiers, or Manners in Algiers). But their introduction amidst

scenes of common life injures the story, which is besides by no means

ingenious, and imparts a cold and whimsical character to the piece.

This comedy, however, which is divided into five acts, is not destitute

of interest and spirit.

The romance of Persiles and Sigismunda, which Cervantes finished

shortly before his death, must be regarded as an interesting appendix

to his other works.[358] The language and the whole composition of the

story, exhibit the purest simplicity, combined with singular precision

and polish. The idea of this romance was not new, and scarcely deserved

to be reproduced in a new manner. But it appears that Cervantes at the

close of his glorious career took a fancy to imitate Heliodorus. He

has maintained the interest of the situations, but the whole work is

merely a romantic description of travels, rich enough in frightful

adventures, both by sea and land. Real and fabulous geography and

history are mixed together in an absurd and monstrous manner; and the

second half of the romance, in which the scene is transferred to Spain

and Italy, does not exactly harmonize with the spirit of the first half.

If we cast a glance on the collected works of Cervantes, in order to

ascertain what their author was entitled to claim as his original

property, independently of his contemporaries and predecessors, we

shall find that the genius of that poet, who is in general only

partially estimated, shines with the brighter lustre the longer it is

contemplated. That kind of criticism which is to be learnt, contributed

but little to the developement and formation of his genius. A critical

tact, which is a truer guide than any rule, but which abandons genius

when it forgets itself, secured the fancy of Cervantes against the

aberrations of common minds, and his sportive wit was always subject

to the control of solid judgment. The vanity which occasionally made

him mistake the true bent of his talent, must be confessed to have been

pardonable, considering how little he was known to his contemporaries.

He did not even know himself, though he felt the consciousness of

his genius. From the mental height to which he had raised himself,

he might, without too highly rating his own abilities, look down on

all the writers of his age. More than one poet of great, of immortal

genius, might be placed beside him in his own country; but of all the

Spanish poets Cervantes alone belongs to the whole world.

LOPE DE VEGA.

Lope Felix de Vega Carpio, the rival and conqueror of Cervantes in

the conflict of dramatic art, was born at Madrid, in the year 1562.

He was consequently fifteen years younger than Cervantes. Marvellous

stories are related respecting the early developement of his poetic

genius and his talent for composing verses. Though his parents were

not rich, yet he received a literary education; and he is also said to

have distinguished himself in corporeal exercises. He lost his parents

before he was old enough to attend the university; but through the

assistance of Don Geronymo Manrique, the grand inquisitor, and Bishop

of Avila, who was much attached to him, he was enabled to complete a

course of philosophy at Alcala. After obtaining his degree at that

university, he returned to Madrid, where he became secretary to the

Duke of Alba. He shortly afterwards married; and from this period,

which seemed to promise a career of tranquil happiness, the stormy

vicissitudes of his life commenced. He became engaged in a quarrel,

fought a duel, wounded his antagonist dangerously, and was obliged

to fly. For several years he lived an exile from Madrid; and on his

return his wife unfortunately died. Harrassed by this series of

calamities, and being as warm a patriot as he was a sincere catholic,

he entered into one of the military corps which were embarked on board

the invincible armada for the invasion of England. Though he himself

returned in safety to Madrid, yet he was deeply grieved at the ill

success of the armada. His vigorous constitution, however, enabled

him to keep up his spirits; he again became a secretary, once more

entered into the married state, and passed some time in uninterrupted

domestic happiness. On the death of his second wife, who survived her

marriage only a few years, he resolved to forego the pleasures of the

world, and for that purpose took holy orders. He did not, however,

retire to a convent; but he devoted himself wholly to the study of

poetry,--to that study, which from childhood upwards, had principally

engrossed his mind, and in the active prosecution of which he produced

so extraordinary a result, that it is difficult to conceive how any

man could even during the most protracted existence, write as much as

Lope de Vega: and yet he spent a part of his life in civil business,

and in the discharge of military duties. He composed in all the various

kinds of verse which were in use in his time; and he succeeded in all.

But his dramas in particular were received with an enthusiasm which

the labours of no other Spanish poet had ever excited. He so precisely

struck the chord which harmonized with the taste of the Spanish public,

that he has been worshipped as the inventor of the national comedy,

though he only pursued the tract which Torres Naharro originally opened.

Lope de Vega’s fertility of invention is as unparalleled in the history

of poetry, as the talent which enabled him to compose regular and well

constructed verses with as much facility as if he had been writing

prose. Cervantes styles him _el monstruo de naturaleza_, (the prodigy

of nature) and this name was not given him merely in levity. He was

constrained by no rules of criticism; not that he was ignorant of the

theory of the ancient poetry, but he took delight in letting his verses

flow freely from his pen, confident in the success of whatever he might

produce. The public, he observed, paid for the drama, and he thought it

but fair that those who paid should be served with that which suited

their taste. Lope de Vega required no more than four-and-twenty hours

to write a versified drama of three acts in redondillas, interspersed

with sonnets, tercets and octaves, and from beginning to end abounding

in intrigues, prodigies, or interesting situations. This astonishing

facility enabled him to supply the Spanish theatre with upwards of

two thousand original dramas, of which not more than three hundred

have been preserved by printing. In general the theatrical manager

carried away what he wrote before he had even time to revise it;

and immediately a fresh applicant would arrive to prevail on him to

commence a new piece. He sometimes wrote a play in the short space of

three or four hours. The profits which the theatrical managers derived

from the writings of Lope de Vega, enabled them to bestow such liberal

payment on the author, that at one time he is supposed to have been

possessed of upwards of a hundred thousand ducats. But he did not long

preserve his fortune, though from the commencement of his celebrity he

always possessed enough to enable him to live with comfort. His purse

was ever open to the poor of Madrid.

But Lope de Vega’s poetic talent procured him even more glory than

gain. No Spanish poet was ever so much honoured during his life. The

nobility and the public vied in expressing their admiration of him.

He was chosen president (_capellan mayor_) of the spiritual college

of Madrid, of which he had previously been admitted as a member. Pope

Urban VIII. sent him the cross of Malta, and the degree of doctor of

theology, accompanied by a flattering letter. The pope also appointed

him fiscal of the apostolic chamber. For these distinctions Lope

de Vega was not indebted merely to his poetic talents. No Spanish

poet of celebrity had hitherto manifested in his writings such

enthusiastic interest for the triumph of the catholic religion. He

was accordingly appointed familiar to the inquisition, a post which

was at that period regarded as singularly honourable. But the Spanish

public adopted another mode of expressing their admiration of their

favourite dramatist. Whenever Lope de Vega appeared in the streets,

he was surrounded by crowds of people, all eager to gain a sight of

the prodigy of nature. The boys ran shouting after him, and those who

could not keep pace with the rest, stood and gazed on him with wonder

as he passed. He died in 1631, in the sixty-third year of his age. His

funeral was conducted with princely magnificence. The ceremony was

directed by his patron, the Duke of Susa, whom he appointed executor

of his will. The music of the high mass which was celebrated at his

funeral, was executed by the performers of the chapel royal. During

the exequies, which lasted three days, three bishops officiated in

their pontifical robes. The memory of the “Spanish Phenix,” as he was

usually styled by the publishers of his plays, was celebrated with no

less pomp in all the theatres of Spain. Arithmetical calculations have

been employed, in order to arrive at a just estimate of Lope de Vega’s

facility in poetic composition. According to his own testimony, he

wrote on an average five sheets per day; it has therefore been computed

that the number of sheets which he composed during his life, must have

amounted to one hundred and thirty-three thousand, two hundred and

twenty-five, and that allowing for the deduction of a small portion of

prose, Lope de Vega must have written upwards of twenty-one millions,

three hundred thousand verses.[359]

Nature would have overstepped her bounds and have produced the

miraculous, had Lope de Vega, along with this rapidity of invention

and composition, attained perfection in any department of literature.

Nature, however, did her utmost for Lope de Vega; for even the rudest,

most incorrect, and verbose of his works, are imbued with a poetic

spirit which no methodical art can create. This poetic spirit is, at

the same time so national and so completely Spanish, that without

an intimate acquaintance with the works of other Spanish poets, and

particularly those who flourished at an early period, it is impossible

to perceive Lope de Vega’s merits and defects, or to understand their

connection with each other. On this account, however, he was in a

peculiar manner the poet of the Spanish public, the favourite of all

ranks; and on this account have his writings always been partially or

erroneously judged.

Lope de Vega was born for dramatic poetry. In every other class of

composition, he was merely an accurate imitator, or if he struck out

a new course, it was in so imperfect a way, that his example was

injurious to the cause of literature. But as a dramatic poet, if he did

not create the Spanish comedy, properly so called, his inexhaustible

fancy and the fascinating ease of his animated composition confirmed

to it that character which has since distinguished it. All subsequent

Spanish dramatic poets trod in the footsteps of Lope de Vega, until

genius was banished from the sphere it occupied by the introduction

of the French taste in Spain. The successors of Lope de Vega merely

improved on the models which he had created. He fixed for a century

and a half the spirit and the style of nearly all the different kinds

of dramatic entertainment in Spain. It may therefore be proper to

unite with a notice of the dramatic works of Lope de Vega, a sketch of

the characteristics of the various species of plays then performed in

Spain; and this sketch will at the same time serve as a key to all the

peculiarities of the Spanish drama.

Since the age of Lope de Vega, the word comedy (_comedia_) has had

in the dramatic language of Spain a totally different signification

from that which was attached to it by the ancient Greeks and Romans,

and which it retains in most countries of modern Europe. It is the

generic name of several species of drama, some of which, according to

our established notions, are neither comedies nor tragedies; but all

of which approximate to one common spirit of invention and execution.

The critic will inevitably form an erroneous judgment of these works,

if he be guided by notions deduced from the Greek and Roman drama,

and which, with certain limitations, are applicable to all dramatic

compositions except the Spanish comedy. The spirit of the Spanish

comedy must not be sought for in that popular satire, which constitutes

the very essence of the ancient and modern comedy, properly so called.

The compositions in which it is to be found are of a totally different

nature. In them stories of country and city life are clothed in

romantic poetic colours, and blended with the interesting inventions

of a bold and irregular fancy, without any distinction between the gay

and the serious, or the comic and the tragic. In a word, a Spanish

comedy is in its principle a dramatic novel; and as there are tragic,

comic, historical, and purely imaginative novels, so, in like manner,

the Spanish comedy readily adopts those various modes of exciting

interest on the stage. In Spanish comedies as in novels, princes

and potentates are no more out of place than jockeys and fops; and

these dissimilar characters may all be introduced on the stage at

once, should the progress of the intrigue require so heterogeneous

an approximation. Satire is therefore merely an agreeable accessary

in the Spanish comedy, of which the poet may avail himself at his

pleasure. In these comedies the powerful delineation of character

is no more essential than in novels. Even a motley combination of

burlesque and serious, vulgar and pathetic scenes, is not hostile to

the spirit of a Spanish comedy, the object of which is not to maintain

the interest in a particular direction. The subject of the piece

may be a moving or a horrific story; still the picture presented is

entertaining, but entertaining in a manner totally different from

that kind of comedy which exhibits the follies of life in a satirical

point of view. A continuance of the pathetic or the horrific would be

as little congenial to the spirit of those dramatic novels which the

Spaniards call comedies, as a continuance of the ludicrous. In this

is manifested the first of the peculiar conditions required by the

Spanish public, of which notice has already been taken in treating

of the origin of the Spanish comedy. With any other people than the

Spaniards these dramatic novels would have assumed a somewhat different

character, without, however, departing from their original spirit. But

this class of dramatic composition, which admits of the most singular

mixture of the pompous and the ludicrous, was particularly suited to

the Spaniards of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, as by it

they were relieved from any long duration of serious impressions.

With this first requisite of a changeable dramatic form, which Lope

de Vega completely satisfied, was associated a second. A complicated

plot was indispensable in every drama, the subject of which was drawn

from the sphere of common life. As a substitute for that sort of plot

in historical comedies, extraordinary and striking adventures were

introduced, and in spiritual comedies, miracles. According to the

universally received notion of a Spanish comedy, in Lope de Vega’s

time, no distinction was made between the sacred and the profane

styles; for a legend was dramatized as a spiritual novel.

Whether a nation which was satisfied with such comedies did or did not

beguile itself of the purest and most perfect developement of dramatic

genius, is a question for separate discussion. But the Spanish comedy

considered in all its modifications, as a particular species of drama,

may stand the test of sound criticism; and Lope de Vega in a great

measure contributed to fix the national taste in these modifications.

In his time the classification was first made of sacred and profane

dramas, or as the Spaniards called them, _comedias Divinas y Humanas_.

The profane comedies were again divided into _comedias Heroycas_,

(Heroic comedies); and _comedias de Capa y Espada_, (comedies of the

Cloak and Sword.) The heroic comedies were originally the same as the

historical, but the title was subsequently extended to mythological and

allegorical dramas. The comedies of the _Capa y Espada_, were founded

on subjects selected from the sphere of fashionable life, and exhibited

the manners of the age; they were likewise performed in the costume of

the times. At a later period a subdivision of these _comedias de Capa y

Espada_ was formed under the name of _comedias de Figuròn_, because the

principal character was either a needy adventurer representing himself

as a rich nobleman, or a lady of the same class. In Lope de Vega’s time

also, the sacred comedies began to be divided into dramatized _Vidas

de Santos_ and _Autos Sacramentales_. Both classes were founded on the

model of the dramas, which used to be represented in the cloisters. The

_Autos Sacramentales_, which had all a reference to the administration

of the sacrament, according to catholic notions, seem to have had

their origin in the age of Lope de Vega; at least in the prelude to

one of his _Autos_ (the word literally signifies acts) a countrywoman

questions her husband respecting the nature of these dramas.[360]

Finally, to the different kinds of Spanish comedy existing in Lope de

Vega’s age, must be added the little preludes or recommendatory pieces,

called _loas_, and the interludes, or _entremeses_, introduced between

the prelude and the principal comedy, and which when interspersed with

music and dancing, are denominated _saynetes_.

Heroic and historical comedies form a considerable portion of the

dramatic works of Lope de Vega, in so far as they have been preserved.

The tragic scenes in many of these comedies, so well harmonized with

the national taste of the Spaniards, that they readily dispensed with

genuine tragedy; and as vivid a recollection of the old national

history was maintained by these theatrical representations as by the

old romances. But few of Lope’s historical comedies relate, like his

_Gran Duque de Moscovia_, to foreign subjects. In point of composition,

his dramas do not materially differ one from the other. Even in his

historical pieces, he uses such freedoms with respect to the unity of

action, that only a slight similitude connects the acts and scenes

together; and he totally disregards the unities of time and place. The

execution of these dramas is no less irregular than their composition.

According to the humour in which the author happened to be when engaged

in his literary labour, his descriptions and language are vigorous or

feeble, noble or mean, unpolished or highly refined. A description

of _Las Almenas de Toro_ (the Battlements of Toro), one of the best

productions in the class to which it belongs, will afford a tolerably

correct idea of Lope de Vega’s historical comedies. The subject of this

piece is the murder of King Don Sancho, by Bellido Dolfos, a knight

whom the king had offended by a violation of his promise, a story

which has likewise furnished materials for several old romances. The

Cid Ruy Diaz is a principal character in this comedy, which, like all

others of the same kind, is divided into three acts.[361] The scene

opens with a view of the country before the strongly fortified town of

Toro in Leon. The King Don Sancho, the Cid, and a Count Anzures enter.

The king explains to the two knights, that state reasons prevent him

from fulfilling his father’s will, and that he cannot leave his two

sisters, the infantas Elvira and Urraca, in possession of the strong

fortresses of Toro and Zamora.[362] The Cid with noble sincerity

avows his opinion of the king’s injustice towards his sisters, and

offers himself as a mediator in the dispute. The king and Count

Anzures retire. The Cid advances to the walls, and meets a knight

named Ordonez, who has just come out of the fortress to execute some

enterprize in favour of the infanta Elvira. Both knights are about to

draw; but they recognize each other, and embrace. The Cid is pourtrayed

in all the greatness of his character.[363] The infanta appears on the

walls, and states to the Cid her reasons for not opening the gates

to her brother. The king re-appears, and orders preparations for

storming the garrison. The scene changes--Don Vela, an old knight who

has withdrawn from the tumult of public life, appears in front of his

country residence. He communes with himself in a speech full of dignity

and beauty, but in some passages too poetical for the drama.[364]

His daughter enters singing, and surrounded by a rustic group. This

scene introduces a romantic episode which is interwoven with the main

action, and the hero of which is a prince of Burgundy, disguised as a

peasant, who is enamoured of the daughter of Don Vela. The scene again

changes to the neighbourhood of Toro. The infanta Elvira appears on

the battlements, and negotiations are once more set on foot. The king

himself holds a conversation with his sister, which, however, produces

no conciliatory result. This brief, pointed, and not very courteous

dialogue, is interspersed with plays of wit on the word _Toro_, the

name of the fortress, which in Spanish signifies a bull.[365] The king

instantly commands scaling ladders to be brought, and the storming

of the fortress commences, but the besiegers are repulsed. Thus the

first act concludes. With the commencement of the second act the

rural episode becomes more nearly allied to the main action. A sonnet

in which the disguised prince of Burgundy, and his mistress Sancha,

express their sentiments of mutual attachment, affords an instance of

that protracted kind of metaphor, which Lope de Vega employed on such

occasions, and which, a hundred years afterwards, Metastasio likewise

adopted in his opera songs, as the poetic language of passion.[366]

Don Bellido Dolfos prevails on the king to promise him the hand of

the infanta Elvira, on condition of his taking the fortress. By dint

of the vilest perfidy Bellido Dolfos succeeds; but the king, who is

of opinion that a traitor should be rewarded with treachery, refuses

to abide by his promise. Bellido Dolfos meditates revenge. Meanwhile

Elvira escapes in the disguise of a peasant, and takes refuge in the

house of Don Vela. With this combination of heroic and tender, domestic

and rural situations, the action proceeds, until Bellido Dolfos murders

the king; an incident, however, which does not take place oh the stage.

The infanta Elvira returns to Toro, where she receives the homage of

her people, and the prince of Burgundy avowing his real character, is

united to his beloved Sancha.

Lope de Vega’s _Comedias de Capa y Espada_, or those which may

properly be denominated his dramas of intrigue, though wanting in the

delineation of character, are romantic pictures of manners, drawn from

real life. They present, in their peculiar style, no less interest

with respect to situations than his heroic comedies; and the same

irregularity in the composition of the scenes. The language, too, is

alternately elegant and vulgar, sometimes highly poetic, and sometimes,

though versified, reduced to the level of the dullest prose. Lope

de Vega seems scarcely to have bestowed a thought on maintaining

probability in the succession of the different scenes; ingenious

complication is with him the essential point in the interest of his

situations. Intrigues are twisted and entwined together, until the

poet, in order to bring his piece to a conclusion, without ceremony

cuts the knots he cannot untie; and then he usually brings as many

couples together as he can by any possible contrivance match. He has

scattered through his pieces occasional reflections and maxims of

prudence, but any genuine morality which might be conveyed through the

stage, is wanting, for its introduction would have been inconsistent

with that poetic freedom on which the dramatic interest of the Spanish

comedy is founded. His aim was to paint what he observed, not what he

would have approved, in the manners of the fashionable world of his

age; but he leaves it to the spectator to draw his own inferences.

In this indirect way only, could the Spanish public tolerate useful

applications in the drama; for the Spaniard always considered the

morality with which he was occupied in church sufficient. An exuberant

gallantry, which may or may not be veiled by decorum, and which is at

all times only slightly restrained by notions of honour, but never by

a sense of moral duty, constitutes the very essence of these dramas,

_de Capa y Espada_. Where the passion is vehement, it advances with

true Spanish ardour to the attainment of its object; where it is

tender and sentimental, the romantic tirades and far-fetched plays of

wit are inexhaustible. That _love excuses every thing_, was at this

time the darling maxim of the gay world in Madrid; and in conformity

with its spirit, Lope de Vega’s young heroes and heroines plunge

headlong into intrigue. Free scope is given to the basest artifice

and perfidy; the man of fashion draws his sword on the slightest

provocation; and whether he desperately wounds, or even kills his

adversary, is a matter of indifference. Disguises, too, abound in these

dramas. One of the most interesting of Lope’s comedies in this class,

is _La Villana de Xetafe_, (the Peasant Girl of Xetafe, a village

in the vicinity of Madrid). It exhibits a series of the boldest and

most dexterous impostures, by means of which the interesting heroine

succeeds in entrapping her lover, who is a man of condition, into the

bonds of matrimony. The confessors must have found some difficulty in

counteracting the ill effects which could not fail to be occasionally

produced by such examples, though they were by no means set up as

models. The fascinating natural painting of these intrigues, which at

the same time always possess a certain poetic elevation, constitutes

the chief charm of Lope de Vega’s comedies. The deviation from nature

in expression, which has frequently been a subject of reproach to

this prolific writer, is in most instances merely attributable to

negligence or rapidity of composition. He faithfully embodies the

general forms of character, which, to be sure, are all alike in the

class of Spanish comedies now under consideration. The _vejete_ (old

man), the _galan_ (lover), the _dama_ (young lady), together with

a suitable number of servants and waiting women, are the standing

characters which are constantly introduced with no variety, except in

the situations; but at the same time, they are drawn in such animated

colours, that the perusal of one or two of these dramas of intrigue is

sufficient to render the reader familiar with the whole world which the

poet describes. In Lope’s comedies, as in real life, the (_gracioso_)

buffoon and the fool are occasionally the same character. They have

also superfluous parts; personages totally unconnected with the

business of the drama are sometimes introduced.

In order to afford an idea of the composition of this portion of the

dramatic works of Lope de Vega, we may select, as a specimen, the

comedy entitled, _La Viuda de Valencia_ (the Widow of Valencia). It

is one of the pieces of this master in the art of intrigue in which

the complication is best contrived, and it is besides remarkable in

the class to which it belongs for the unity which is preserved in the

action. The scene is laid in Valencia in the time of the carnival.

Leonarda, a young rich and handsome widow, living according to her

own fancy, has resolved never to re-marry. She enters with a book

in her hand; for she reads works of all sorts, sacred and profane,

not from piety or love of literature, but merely to amuse herself,

while she never deigns to bestow a thought on the suitors by whom

she is surrounded. On the subject of her reading she discourses very

reasonably with her waiting woman.[367] Her arch attendant turns

the conversation in such a way, that the young widow, with all her

pretended wisdom, is induced to view herself in a looking glass, and

in the very act of doing so, she is surprised by a visit from her

uncle. The old gentleman assures his fair niece, who is highly vexed

at the surprise, that she does well to convince herself of the power

of her charms by such indisputable testimony.[368] When, however,

he begins to talk of marriage, the lady contemptuously sketches a

burlesque portrait of a Madrid beau,[369] and describes, though in a

less happy style the unfortunate consequences of an imprudent match.

The old uncle takes his leave, and the scene changes, or rather it is

transferred to the other division of the stage. The three admirers of

the beautiful Leonarda meet each other in front of her house. They

express their wishes and hopes in sonnets, the subjects of which are

long-winded metaphors. As none of the party can boast of his mistress’s

favour, they mutually acknowledge their ill success, and each describes

a burlesque adventure, which has occurred to him during the night, in

front of Leonarda’s house. One relates, that under the supposition

that he was stabbing a rival, he thrust his poignard into a skin of

stolen wine.[370] Meanwhile Leonarda hastily returns from church,

where she has seen a young gentleman with whom she has fallen deeply

in love. She immediately forms a plan to induce this gentleman, whose

name is Camillo, to visit her, without either knowing who she is or

whither he is conducted. The whole intrigue is managed by Leonarda’s

coachman Urbano, who is at the same time the _gracioso_, or buffoon

of the piece.[371] While Urbano is gone out in quest of Camillo, the

three suitors, without any previous arrangement with each other,

arrive disguised as dealers in books and copper-plate prints. They

obtain an interview with Leonarda, and make avowals of their passion;

but she receives them very unfavourably, and they are all obliged to

make a rapid retreat to avoid being roughly handled by the servants.

This scene is highly amusing. In the second act Camillo appears,

and after long hesitation, he consents to engage in the romantic

adventure. Urbano dresses him in a doctor’s cloak, and drawing the

hood (_capirote_) over his eyes, he conducts him blindfold, with comic

effect, through a variety of windings, to the house of Leonarda. The

lady receives him in the dark. Lights are afterwards brought in, but

Leonarda remains masked. A sumptuous collation is prepared, of which

the young gentleman’s doubt and embarrassment will not permit him to

taste a morsel. He compares himself to Alexander, when he took the

suspected goblet from the hand of his physician.[372] A tender dialogue

ensues, after which the hood is again drawn over the eyes of Camillo,

and he is conducted from Leonarda’s house. In this manner the intrigue

proceeds; but between many of the scenes, whole days, and even weeks

are supposed to intervene. Leonarda and her lover become more and more

intimate, though he neither knows who she is, nor where she resides.

All his endeavours to discover these secrets are unavailing; and at

length he begins to suspect that his unknown mistress is an old cousin

of Leonarda. In the mean time the three rejected suitors, who still mix

in the plot, become jealous of the coachman Urbano; and one spirited

scene succeeds another until an affray occurs in which an honourable

suitor of Leonarda is wounded. This accident produces the denouement.

Camillo recognizes in his unknown mistress the beautiful widow with

whom he was previously acquainted, and whose hand he joyfully accepts.

Thus the piece is a comedy from beginning to end.

Lope de Vega’s spiritual comedies, afford a picture of the religious

notions of the Spaniards in the age in which he lived, not less

faithfully pourtrayed than that by which his dramas of intrigue

represent the manners of Spanish society. Pure piety, according

to catholic ideas, wildly blended with the most contradictory

chimeras, and these chimeras again ennobled by the boldest flights of

imagination, form altogether a monstrous and extravagant patch-work;

but this heterogeneous variety is, nevertheless, united by the

ramifications of a poetic spirit, into a whole, to which no European

imagination could now be expected to produce a resemblance. But Lope

de Vega seems not to have come to a positive determination respecting

what ought to have been the true spirit of these dramatic pictures of

religious faith. The mixture of poetic and unpoetic elements is very

unequal in his different spiritual comedies. His Lives of the Saints

possess far more dramatic spirit than his Autos Sacramentales; while

on the other hand, allegory imparts a higher dignity to the religious

mysticism of the latter. Both, however, have in common a kind of

operatic style, combined with the display of theatrical machinery and

decoration, calculated to captivate the senses. Of all the dramatic

works of Lope de Vega, the Lives of the Saints are in every respect the

most irregular. Allegorical characters, buffoons, saints, peasants,

students, kings, God, the infant Jesus, the devil, and all the most

heterogeneous beings that the wildest imagination could bring together,

are introduced. Music seems always to have been an indispensable

accessary. Lope de Vega’s spiritual comedy, entitled the Life of Saint

Nicolas de Tolentino,[373] commences with a conversation maintained by

a party of students, who make a display of their wit and scholastic

learning. Among them is the future saint, whose piety shines with the

brighter lustre when contrasted with the disorderly gaiety of those

by whom he is surrounded. The devil disguised by a mask joins the

party. A skeleton appears in the air; the sky opens, and the Almighty

is discovered sitting in judgment attended by Justice and Mercy, who

alternately influence his decisions. Next succeeds a love intrigue

between a lady named Rosalia, and a gentleman named Feniso. The future

saint then re-enters attired in canonicals, and delivers a sermon

in redondillas. The parents of the saint congratulate themselves on

possessing such a son; and this scene forms the conclusion of the first

act. At the opening of the second a party of soldiers are discovered;

the saint enters accompanied by several monks, and offers up a prayer

in the form of a sonnet. Brother Peregrino relates the romantic history

of his conversion. Subtle theological fooleries ensue, and numerous

anecdotes of the lives of the saints are related. St. Nicolas prays

again through the medium of a sonnet. He then rises in the air, either

by the power of faith, or the help of the theatrical machinery; and the

Holy Virgin and St. Augustin descend from heaven to meet him.[374] In

the third act the scene is transferred to Rome, where two cardinals

exhibit the holy sere cloth to the people by torch light. Music

performed on clarionets adds to the solemnity of this ceremony, during

which pious discourses are delivered. St. Nicolas is next discovered

embroidering the habit of his order; and the pious observations which

he makes, while engaged in this occupation, are accompanied by the

chaunting of invisible angels. The music attracts the devil, who

endeavours to tempt St. Nicolas. The next scene exhibits souls in the

torments of purgatory. The devil again appears attended by a retinue

of lions, serpents, and other hideous animals; but in a scene, which

is intended for burlesque, (_graciosamente_) a monk armed with a great

broom drives off the devil and his suite.[375] At the conclusion of the

piece the saint whose beatification is now complete, descends from

heaven in a garment bespangled with stars. As soon as he touches the

earth, the souls of his father and mother are released from purgatory

and rise through a rock; the saint then returns hand-in-hand with his

parents to heaven, music playing as they ascend.

The _Autos Sacramentales_ of Lope de Vega must have been far less

attractive than his Lives of the Saints. Compared with the latter,

their construction appears very simple, and they are executed in a

style of theological refinement which could not have been perfectly

intelligible to the multitude. But the allegorical characters, which

are the most prominent in these pieces, produce an imposing effect.

The dramas themselves are in general short. In one which represents

the fall, Man disputes with Sin and the Devil, and Earth and Time take

part in the dialogue. Next are discovered Justice and Mercy seated

beneath a canopy, and at a table furnished with writing materials.

Man is interrogated before this tribunal. The Prince of heaven, or

Saviour, enters. Reflection, or Care, (_Cuidado_) kneels and delivers

a letter to him. The Saviour, who takes his station behind a grating,

makes Man undergo another judicial examination, and pardons him.[376]

But the devil re-appears and protests against the pardon.[377] Man

has next to contend with Vanity and Folly, who are introduced as

allegorical characters. Christ again appears with the crown of thorns.

In conclusion, the heavens open and Christ ascends to his celestial

throne, with the usual accompaniment of music. Direct allusions to the

sacrament of the altar were seldom necessary in the Autos, as the whole

tendency of the allegorical action was directed to that object.

Lope de Vega’s _Loas_, and more particularly his _Entremeses_ and

_Saynetes_, seem to have been intended to indemnify the audience for

the theological allegory of the sacramental dramas; for it is only in

connection with the Autos that these preludes and interludes are to be

found. The Loas are not always comic, and are sometimes only spirited

monologues. The interludes, or Entremeses and Saynetes, may also be

called preludes, for though they were performed after the Loa, which

was properly the prologue, yet they preceded the Auto: these interludes

are burlesque from beginning to end, and form a preparation for the

devotion of the Auto, quite in the Spanish taste. Farces of this kind,

pourtraying the incidents of common life, never destitute of genuine

comic spirit, and written for the most part in verse, soon became

indispensable to the Spaniards, and even to this day are never omitted

in their dramatic performances. The interludes of Lope de Vega and

Cervantes seem to have been the models of all that succeeded them.

The dramatic genius of Lope de Vega has rendered him immortal. In the

seventeenth century his plays were universally read and performed

throughout Spain. In general they were first published singly, and

for the most part with the bookseller’s epithet--_Comedia Famosa_,

(the Celebrated Comedy), which subsequently became a universal device,

affixed to all comedies printed in Spain. In this manner Lope de Vega’s

most popular comedies were, partly during the life of the author, and

partly after his death, collected in five-and-twenty volumes;[378]

exclusively of the Autos, preludes, and interludes, which afterwards

formed a separate publication.[379] Among Lope’s scattered dramas which

have been printed at a later period, are some which are expressly

denominated tragedies.[380]

The other poetic works of this prolific writer, must be very briefly

noticed; for to give any thing like a particular account of them

would require the space of a considerable volume.[381] In epic poetry

he maintained an unsuccessful contest with Tasso. His _Jerusalem

Conquistada_,[382] consists indeed of twenty cantos in octaves, and

contains some beautiful passages, but it will in no respect bear a

comparison with the Italian poem. Lope de Vega also augmented the

number of the continuers of Ariosto’s Orlando, by the publication of

_La Hermosura de Angelica_,[383] (the Beauty of Angelica), which is

also a narrative poem in twenty cantos, though shorter than those

of the Jerusalem. His other attempts at epic composition are--_La

Corona Tragica_,[384] (the Tragic Crown), or the history of the

unfortunate Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland; and the _Circe_ and

_Dragontea_.[385] The _Corona Tragica_ is full of furious invective

against the protestants and against Queen Elizabeth in particular.[386]

The hero of the _Dragontea_ is Admiral Drake, who is introduced in

this poem as the tool of Satan, in order that he may finally serve as

an example of poetic justice. To compete with Sanazzar, Lope wrote a

second Arcadia,[387] in the style of the Italian. He likewise wrote

several poems, which may be called eclogues in the proper sense of

the term. His _Arte Nueva de Hazer Comedias_, (New Art of Writing

Comedies), is a humorous satire on his opponents under the appearance

of ridiculing himself.[388] He anonymously supplied the _Romancero

General_ with thirty-six romances.[389] His spiritual poems are to

be found in great profusion; and the number of his sonnets, some

of which possess first-rate merit, is considerable. His _Laurel de

Apolo_, a Eulogy on various Spanish Poets, which has been frequently

quoted, is but an indifferent production.[390] His epistles are

sufficiently numerous. Among his miscellaneous poems, those of the

comic kind have most originality, as for example: _La Gatomachia_,

(the Battle of Cats),[391] and the whole collection of miscellaneous

poems which he published under the assumed name of the Licentiate Tomè

de Burguillos.[392] Among his most celebrated prose works, are _El

Peregrino en su Patria_, (the Stranger in his own Country), a tolerably

long novel.[393] _Dorothea_, a dramatic story, or as it is called,

_Accion en Prosa_;[394] and a Collection of Novels.[395]

THE BROTHERS LEONARDO DE ARGENSOLA.

Among the poets who flourished during the period now under

consideration, the place next in rank to Cervantes and Lope de

Vega, must be assigned to two brothers, whom their countrymen have

surnamed the Horaces of Spain. Lupercio Leonardo de Argensola

born in 1565, and Bartholemè Leonardo de Argensola, born in 1566,

belonged to a respectable family, of Italian origin, but settled in

Arragon. Lupercio, who pursued his academic studies in Saragossa,

had the satisfaction to witness the successful performance of three

tragedies, which he wrote in the twentieth year of his age, and which

are honourably mentioned by Cervantes in his Don Quixote. His taste,

however, led him to cultivate another style of poetry, in which he

could imitate Horace, of whom he was an enthusiastic admirer. His

family connection facilitated his introduction to persons of rank;

and he became secretary to the Empress Maria of Austria, who at that

time resided in Spain. He was soon after appointed chamberlain to the

Archduke Albert of Austria. King Philip III. nominated him one of

the chroniclers or historiographers of Arragon, and directed him to

continue the annals of Zurita; and the states of Arragon, which already

possessed their own particular chronicler, seized some plausible excuse

for dismissing him, in order that Lupercio Leonardo de Argensola

might also be appointed historiographer for them. He then determined

to devote himself exclusively to the duties of his office; but he

was induced to go to Italy in company with the Count de Lemos, the

celebrated patron of Cervantes, who was at that time viceroy of Naples.

Lupercio was appointed secretary of state and of war for Naples; but

amidst the varied and laborious duties attached to such a situation,

he actively pursued his poetic studies, and did not even discontinue

his Arragonese annals. He was the principal founder of the academy at

Naples. While prosecuting this honourable career he died in 1613, in

the fortieth year of his age. Like Virgil, when he felt the approach of

death, he burnt a considerable portion of his poems.

Bartholemè, the younger Leonardo de Argensola, entered the

ecclesiastical state. During the first half of his life, his success

in the world was inseparably connected with the fortunes of his

brother. He was chaplain to the Empress Maria of Austria, then a canon

in Saragossa; and afterwards proceeded to Naples in company with his

brother and the Count de Lemos. He quitted Italy on the death of his

brother, and was appointed to complete the continuation of the annals

of Arragon which Lupercio had left in an imperfect state; a task which

he executed in a way that gave universal satisfaction. While the

Count de Lemos was president of the council of the Indies, Bartholemè

Leonardo de Argensola wrote a history of the conquest of the Molucca

islands. He was indefatigable in the pursuit of his historical and

poetic studies; and after passing a tranquil and honourable life, he

died at Saragossa in 1631, in the sixty-sixth year of his age.[396]

The poetry of these two brothers, who, in a critical point of view,

may both be regarded as one individual, is not characterized by

originality, or by depth of genius, in the extended sense of the

word. It is, however, remarkable for a fine poetic feeling distinct

from enthusiasm, a vigorous and aspiring spirit, a happy talent for

description, poignant wit, classic dignity of style, and above all,

singular correctness of taste. Both pursued the same course with equal

ardour and adroitness; but Bartholemè had the better opportunity of

cultivating his talent, because he lived longest. Next to Luis de Leon,

they are the most correct of all Spanish poets.

The tragedies with which Lupercio commenced his poetic career,

considered as youthful essays, are worthy to be remembered, though

they do not merit the unbounded praise which Cervantes bestowed on

them in a fit of panegyrical enthusiasm. It appears that they did not

long maintain their place on the stage. Two of the three mentioned by

Cervantes were, at no very remote period, rescued from oblivion, and

the third still remains undiscovered.[397] The two which have been

recovered, and which are entitled, the one _Isabella_, and the other

_Alexandra_, afford excellent specimens of language and versification.

The Alexandra contains scenes, particularly in the second and third

acts, which the greatest tragic writer might advantageously adopt and

interweave into a better constructed piece.[398] The Isabella is a

trivial web of love intrigues, and terminates in a manner sufficiently

awful; but the piece is totally destitute of tragic dignity,

notwithstanding that it exhibits the languishing and raging of two

Moorish kings, with all the pomp of oriental accessaries. Alexandra

presents more numerous and correct traits of resemblance to the ancient

drama; and yet towards the close the action becomes most extravagant,

and is marked by all the tumult of a modern theatrical spectacle.

But the poetic fame of Lupercio Leonardo de Argensola, does not rest

on his tragedies. His lyric poems, epistles, and satires in the

manner of Horace, have transmitted his name, without the aid of any

recommendation to posterity. Lupercio formed his style after that

of Horace, with no less assiduity than Luis de Leon; but he did not

possess the soft enthusiasm of that pious poet, who in the religious

spirit of his poetry is so totally unlike Horace. An understanding

at once solid and ingenious, subject to no extravagant illusion, yet

full of true poetic feeling, and an imagination more plastic than

creative, impart a more perfect horatian colouring to the odes, as

well as to the canciones and sonnets of Lupercio. He closely imitated

Horace in his didactic satires, a style of composition in which no

Spanish poet had preceded him. But he never succeeded in attaining

the bold combination of ideas which characterizes the ode style of

Horace; and his conceptions have therefore seldom any thing like the

horatian energy. On the other hand, all his poems express no less

precision of language, than the models after which he formed his style.

His odes, in particular, are characterized by a picturesque tone of

expression, which he seems to have imbibed from Virgil rather than from

Horace.[399] The extravagant metaphors by which some of Herrera’s odes

are deformed, were uniformly avoided by Lupercio. His best sonnets

are those of a sententious cast, which have some moral idea for their

subject.[400] He was likewise successful in the composition of popular

songs in redondillas. His epistles in tercets present, in their

kind, about the same degree of resemblance to the epistles of Horace,

as is observable between his odes and those of his classic model.

The ideas are expressed in a clear, precise, and pleasing style; and

these compositions are not destitute of poetic and didactic interest.

Still, however, the vigour of Horace is wanting.[401] Lupercio did

not enter, with sufficient decision, into the true spirit of horatian

satire. He consigned to his brother the task of cultivating that class

of composition, in which poetry is scarcely distinguishable from

spirited prose. Among his writings, which escaped the flames, there is

only one piece of satirical raillery, in the form of an epistle to a

coquette.[402]

The poetic works of Bartholemè, the younger Leonardo de Argensola,

which have been preserved, are twice as numerous as those of Lupercio.

The style of the two brothers is so similar, that in some cases it is

difficult, and in others totally impossible to distinguish the one

from the other. This extraordinary conformity of character, talent and

taste, appears at first sight no less singular a phenomenon than the

inexhaustible fertility of Lope de Vega. But it will be recollected,

that these brothers, who were nearly of an age, and almost inseparable

companions, and who were constantly occupied in the study and imitation

of the same models, could not fail, by the cultivation of similar, and

in neither original talents, closely to approximate. Still, however,

traces of difference are discoverable in their works. Bartholemè,

by his numerous epistles and satires, performed greater services to

Spanish poetry than his brother Lupercio. He was the first Spanish

writer who introduced concentrated satire in sonnets, which he probably

did after he became acquainted with the Italian poems of that class,

but he has imitated them with the spirit of Horace, and has avoided

every thing like Italian flippancy. His spiritual canciones, which

are not equalled by any in the poetic works of Lupercio, are among

the best in the style to which they belong. His most esteemed works

bear the impress of a more cultivated talent than is discernible in

the writings of his brother. His longer and properly didactic satires

are characterized by more causticity than gaiety in the ridicule of

general and particular follies.[403] But the enthusiasm of the moralist

never leads him into declamation in the manner of Juvenal; and these

satires are equally replete with traits of mild philanthropy and

sound judgment. His epistles on human felicity and human weakness have

nearly the same character, but they are for the most part serious and

devoid of irony.[404] His satirical sonnets present unequal degrees

of merit; but in the best, the pupil of Horace is more obviously

recognisable.[405] That Bartholemè should have succeeded in spiritual

canciones, may at first sight be deemed a psychological enigma. But it

was precisely his critical and reflective turn of mind which proved

most essentially serviceable in guiding him through the gloomy regions

of catholic mysticism. Being an enthusiastic catholic, he wanted

no extraordinary inspiration to furnish him with religious ideas;

and the faculties of a language eminently picturesque, supplied him

with new views and images which he alternately developed in majestic

descriptions,[406] and pleasing comparisons.[407]

The praises lavished on the Argensolas by all parties, would afford

sufficient ground for the conjecture that their poetic works had

produced some influence on their contemporaries. But that influence is

chiefly obvious from the poetic style of the men of talent with whom

they lived on terms of intimacy, of one of whom, named Alonzo Esquerro,

there is extant a short but excellent epistle, published along with the

answer of Bartholemè de Argensola.

The historical works of the younger Argensola, are also deserving

of honourable mention in an account of the polite literature of

Spain. Few narratives of Indian affairs are written with so much

judgment and elegance as his History of the Conquest of the Molucca

Islands;[408] and his continuation of the Annals of Zurita,[409]

exceeds in rhetorical merit the work of the original historiographer.

The circumstances connected with the accession of Charles V. and the

Castilian rebellion, subjects to which no Spanish writer had previously

ventured to allude, are related by Argensola with no less freedom and

fidelity than other events; though of course without his attempting to

urge any apology for the rebels. In the reign of Philip III. but little

danger was to be apprehended from such freedom; and when, in the year

1621, Philip IV. ascended the throne in the seventeenth year of his

age, Argensola did not hesitate to dedicate his Arragonian Annals to

the Duke of Olivarez, who in the name of the young king was invested

with unlimited sovereign authority. The Duke of Olivarez on receiving

this dedication little imagined that the recollection of the ancient

privileges of the Arragonian states, which had been solemnly ratified

by Charles V. and which were so much expatiated on in these annals,

would, at no very remote period, be the means of rousing the people of

Arragon to take up arms in defence of their constitution, on which the

duke wished to encroach, in order to recruit the exhausted strength of

Castile.

CONTINUATION OF THE HISTORY OF SPANISH POETRY AND ELOQUENCE

DURING THE AGE OF CERVANTES AND LOPE DE VEGA.

A very accurate idea of the general spirit of elegant literature in

Spain, during the age of Cervantes and Lope de Vega, will be obtained,

if, to an examination of the works of those eminent men and the two

Argensolas, be added a recollection of the labours of their immediate

predecessors; for the other Spanish poets of this period followed in

the beaten path as far as they were able to go, and if any one ventured

on a new course he only wandered into insipidity. These authors, though

deficient in originality, are not without merit; but so great is their

number, that it would be impossible to find room for even a very brief

notice of all their works in a general history of literature. There

was at this time a sort of poetical ferment in Spain, which can only

be compared with that which prevailed in Italy during the sixteenth

century. The blending of the Italian style with the old Spanish, had

excited a new enthusiasm throughout the whole nation; and in proportion

as the Spaniards were excluded from philosophic thinking, their passion

for works of fancy was augmented. Under these circumstances eloquence

could only follow in the train of poetry.[410]

FRESH FAILURES IN EPIC POETRY--ERCILLA’S ARAUCANA.

Success in epic poetry was still denied to the Spanish muse. The

confounding of epic poetry with relations of actual events embellished

with poetic language, seems to have perverted the talent for true

epopee. The Spanish poets who attempted this style, studied after the

deceitful model of Lucan, and, according to an old critical phrase,

endeavoured to be more _Lucanists_ than Lucan himself. The imagination

which possessed unbounded dominion over the stage, seems to have

obtained in narrative poetry only the scanty privilege of inventing a

few ornaments.

Among the unsuccessful attempts at epopee, particular distinction is

due to the _Araucana_ of the heroic and amiable Alonzo de Ercilla y

Zuñiga, a poem which has the accidental advantage of being better

known on this side of the Pyrenees than many other Spanish works of

far superior merit. Ercilla has recorded the most remarkable events

of his own biography in the _Araucana_, and the remainder of the poem

also reflects an interest on the author. He was born at Madrid in

1540, or according to some in 1533, and became page to the prince of

Asturias, Don Philip, with whom he travelled to Italy, the Netherlands,

and England. At the age of twenty-two, he embarked as an officer for

America, along with a newly appointed viceroy of Peru. He distinguished

himself in the war against the Araucans, the bravest of the South

American tribes. In the midst of his exploits, he conceived with a

youthful ambition the plan of writing a narrative of the conquest of

Arauco in an epic form, but with the strictest regard to historical

truth. He executed his project in spite of the dangers which surrounded

him, and the fatigues he had to undergo. In a wilderness inhabited by

savages, in the midst of enemies, and under no other cover than that of

heaven, he composed at night the verses which were to be the memorials

of the events of the day. In prosecution of his purpose, he was obliged

to use scraps of waste paper, which often could not contain more than

six lines, or to make pieces of leather supply the total want of paper.

In this way he completed the first part of his poem, consisting of

fifteen cantos. Before he was thirty years of age he returned to Spain,

full of hope, both as a soldier and a poet; but the gloomy Philip,

to whom he enthusiastically dedicated the _Araucana_, took little

notice of him, and less of his work. Ercilla deeply felt this neglect;

but nothing could damp his romantic attachment to his cold-hearted

sovereign, whom he still persisted in celebrating in the sequel of his

poem. He received no mark of favour except from the Emperor Maximilian

II. who appointed him one of his chamberlains. Dissatisfied with his

fate, Ercilla travelled from place to place; but his journies did not

prevent him from proceeding with his poem until he completed it by the

addition of a third part. When he died is not known, but it was after

he had attained his fiftieth year.

The _Araucana_, so called from the country Arauco, is really no

poem. It is, however, impossible to read the work without becoming

attached to the author, and being delighted by his talent for lively

description, and for painting situations, his possession of which no

just critic can call in question. But notwithstanding that talent,

Ercilla is merely a versifying historian, capable of clothing his

subject in a poetic garb, but not of elevating it to the sphere of true

poetry. His diction is natural and correct; and to this the _Araucana_

is in a great measure indebted for its celebrity. Its descriptive

beauties, and some scenes in the style of romantic love, certainly

make the composition approximate to poetry; but the heroic spirit

which pervades the whole work, is by no means a poetic spirit. The

principal events follow each other in chronological order. The combats

are described in succession, as they actually arose, without any regard

to poetic interest. Ercilla, indeed, prided himself on this historical

precision, and he challenged any of his countrymen who were acquainted

with the war in Arauco, to detect a single inaccuracy in his narrative.

The historical succession of events imparts, however, a sort of epic

unity to the work. The Spaniards in Arauco are surrounded by dangers,

which gradually augment until they reach a crisis; when a reinforcement

arrives from Peru, and the Spaniards experience a favourable change of

fortune. The capture of Caupolican, the Araucan commander, who is put

to death in a way repugnant to humanity, closes the narrative, though

it does not terminate the war; but the barbarous and unjust execution

of this brave chief being decreed by a Spanish council of war, is not

censured by Ercilla. From the manner in which the poem concludes, it

must be regarded as incomplete, considered as an historical narrative.

Even the moral interest of the events operates in a way contrary to

the intention of the author; for the feelings of the unprejudiced

reader are, from the commencement excited in favour of the brave

savages, who half-naked, and destitute of fire arms, contend for their

natural freedom against enemies so superior in the art of war. The

style of historical truth in which the principal events are narrated,

forms a disagreeable contrast with the fiction in the details, which is

intended to diffuse a poetic character over the whole work; for Ercilla

at length found it necessary to depart from his plan in order to escape

from the monotony into which he had fallen. In the first fifteen cantos

the poetic colouring is merely confined to the descriptions; but in

the two following parts,[411] the author has interwoven a number of

fabulous accessaries. He has introduced, for example, a poetic account

of the magician Fiton’s wonderful skill and garden of paradise,[412]

and also the story of the fair savage Glaura, who recounts the

incidents of her life in the style of a Spanish romance.[413] Ercilla

likewise relates the death of Dido after Virgil, and in honour of his

king he gives a detailed account of the battle of Lepanto. In addition

to the descriptions, some of the speeches, particularly that delivered

by the Cacique Colocolo in the second canto,[414] may be referred to as

the best parts of this unpoetic poem.

Meanwhile the passion for epic poetry, which took possession of so many

Spanish writers in the age of Cervantes and Lope de Vega, gave birth to

a torrent of heroic poems. To the Caroliads, which have already been

noticed, there succeeded _La Restauracion de España_, (the Restoration

of Spain), by Christoval de Mesa; _Las Navas de Tolosa_, (the Plains

of Toulouse), by the same author; _La Numantina_, by Francisco de

Mesquera; _La Invencion de la Cruz_, (the Invention of the Cross), by

Lopez Zarate; _Maltea_, by Hyppolyto Sanz; _El Leon de España_, (the

Spanish Lion), by Pedro de Vezilla; _Saguntina_, by Lorenzo de Zamora;

_Mexicana_, by Gabriel Laso de Vega; _Austriada_, by Rufo Guttieraz;

&c. None but men who make this branch of literature their particular

study, now think of perusing these and similar patriotic effusions,

which were at the period of their publication regarded as epic

poems,[415] but which only serve to prove, with the greater certainty,

that Spain is incapable of producing a Homer. A genuine subject for

epopee was scarcely to be found in the national history of Spain, even

during the ages of chivalry; and modern history was not then more

susceptible than now of receiving a truly epic form.

LYRIC AND BUCOLIC POETS OF THE CLASSIC SCHOOL OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

Lyric and bucolic poetry and also elegant satire, after the two

Argensolas had given the tone to that species of composition, continued

to be cultivated by various pupils of the classic school of the

sixteenth century. This school which was then on the decline in Italy,

still maintained its ground in Spain, and preserved its reputation in

spite of the opposition made by the different parties who contended

for their respective styles, particularly by that of Lope de Vega,

and by one of a still more dangerous kind, which will soon be more

distinctly noticed. The disciples of this classic school, together

with those writers who, since the time of Boscan and Garcilaso de la

Vega, had formed their style on the model of the ancients and the most

esteemed poets of Italy, may be called the Spanish _Cinquecentisti_,

in a favourable sense of the term, though some of them wrote in

the seventeenth century. The most distinguished among them really

flourished in the sixteenth century; and the rest, whose number is

incalculable, possessed, at least, the merit of endeavouring, like the

Italian _Cinquecentisti_, to express sensible ideas in correct language.

To this classic school belongs Vicente Espinel, an ecclesiastic of the

province of Granada. He was likewise celebrated as a musician, and he

perfected the Spanish guitar by the addition of the fifth string. He

died in poverty, in the ninetieth year of his age, at Madrid in 1634.

His canciones, idyls, and elegies, though destitute of originality,

are distinguished by a spirited and inartificial character, and they

abound in beautiful images and descriptions. Espinel’s poetic style is

extremely melodious. In his idyls he has very successfully imitated

the pleasing syllabic measure which Gil Polo introduced into Spanish

literature under the name of _Rimas Provenzales_;[416] and he was one

of those writers who most contributed to bestow a metrical polish

on the redondilla stanzas of ten lines, (_decimas_). He translated

Horace’s Art of Poetry, in iambic blank verse, and several of Horace’s

Odes after the manner of Luis de Leon. Some of this author’s prose

works will hereafter be noticed.[417]

Christoval de Mesa, an ecclesiastic of Estremadura, was contemporary

with Tarquato Tasso, with whom he maintained the most friendly

intercourse. He made, however, very little improvement in epic art

through his intimacy with that celebrated man. Of three compositions,

which Christoval de Mesa intended for epic poems, not one has been

preserved from oblivion. His tragedy of Pompey is likewise forgotten.

He was nevertheless a good translator; and his translations of the

Æneid and the Iliad are esteemed even at the present day. He also

published a Spanish version of Virgil’s Georgics.

Juan de Morales obtained a similar reputation through his translation

of Horace’s Odes and Virgil’s Georgics. The particulars of his life are

not known. He wrote some good sonnets.[418] This writer must not be

confounded with his namesake, Ambrosio de Morales, the historian.

Agustin de Texada, or Tejada, who was born in the year 1635, is

distinguished as a writer of spiritual odes and canciones. His poems in

this class vie with those of the younger Argensola in poetic dignity of

composition and genuine lyric diction.[419] He has, however, committed

the error of introducing mythological images in his christian poetry.

But in this respect he merely conformed with the bad taste of his age,

which in Spain and Portugal favoured the most absurd misapplication

of the Greek mythology; for, to humour the prejudices of the church,

it was necessary that the heathen deities should appear only as

allegorical characters in catholic poetry.

Andres Rey de Artieda, a brave Arragonian officer, was a very learned

scholar and a particular friend of the Argensolas. Among other works,

he wrote poetic epistles which are full of good sense and natural

feeling.[420] His sonnets are remarkable for their novel and poignant

style.[421]

Gregorio Morillo imitated Juvenal in his didactic satires, and vented

his spleen in well-turned verses.[422]

Luis Barahona de Soto is, in preference to many of his contemporaries,

entitled to an honourable place among Spanish poets. He was born in the

province of Granada, and was a physician by profession. His eclogues

resemble those of Garcilaso de la Vega; and his canciones abound in

romantic grace.[423] His satires, which were lately republished, have

the spirit of Juvenal, but want the delicacy of Horace; they are,

however, written in a clear and energetic style. This writer moreover

gained celebrity by a continuation of the Orlando Furioso, which was

highly esteemed by Cervantes, and which is entitled, _Las Lagrimas de

Angelica_, (the Tears of Angelica).[424]

Pedro Soto de Rojas, who was a particular favourite of Lope de Vega,

endeavoured to introduce the academic systems of Italy, which had never

been successfully imitated in Spain. A literary society established

at Madrid, after the Italian fashion, received the ludicrous title of

_Academia Selvaje_, (Academy of Savages;) and in this society Soto de

Rojas was distinguished by the surname of _l’Ardiente_. His eclogues

have the usual character of Spanish poems of that class, clothed in

elegant and harmonious language.[425]

Luis Martin, or Martinez de la Plaza, an ecclesiastic of Granada,

a province fertile in literary talent, was particularly celebrated

for the grace of his madrigals, and other small poems of a similar

kind.[426]

Balthazar del Alcazar, who appears to have been a native of Andalusia,

sought to distinguish himself as a writer of epigrammatic madrigals.

In his comic madrigals,[427] he was, however, less successful than in

those of gallantry.[428] He also appears to have been one of the first

Spanish poets who wrote odes in sapphic feet, in so far as the Spanish

language would permit the employment of that measure.[429]

Gonzalo de Argote y Molina, one of those brave men, who, in the

reign of Philip II. combated with enthusiasm for the honour of their

country and their king, but whose valour remained unrequited, was

more distinguished as an historian than as a poet. To his literary

patriotism the Spaniards were indebted for the publication of the

Infante Don Manuel’s _Conde Lucanor_.[430] His poems are, however,

worthy of honourable notice. An ardent love of country is the soul of

his canciones and other lyric compositions.[431]

Francisco de Figueroa spent a portion of his life in Italy, in the

twofold capacity of an officer and a statesman. During his residence

among the Italians, he enjoyed a degree of public esteem which was

extended to few of his countrymen. He wrote poems in Italian as well as

in Spanish. Among his friends and admirers he was called the _divine_,

and he was ranked among the most eminent Petrarchists of his age. His

amatory sonnets are written in a pleasing and natural style, and abound

in the softest touches of romantic melancholy.[432] The admirers of

Francisco de Figueroa likewise conferred on him the surname of the

Spanish Pindar; but that was a mere whim.[433]

Christoval Suarez de Figueroa, who was an imitator of Montemayor, wrote

a pastoral romance, entitled _Amarillis_, which was very generally read

at the time of its publication. He also made a translation of Guarini’s

Pastor Fido, and cultivated with some degree of success the Italian

lyric forms of pastoral romance. Some of the poems of the latter class

contained in the _Romancero General_, appear to be written by this

author. His _Endechas_, or Elegiac Songs in the popular style, though

not particularly rich in ideas, are nevertheless pleasing with respect

to language and versification.[434]

Another poet of this name, Bartholomè Cayrasco de Figueroa, is the

author of a long series of spiritual canciones and tales called

_cantos_, which were much esteemed on account of the edification

attributed to their contents. In these poems he explains the mysticism

of the christian religion, according to the catholic dogmas and the

scholastic ideas of christian virtue, in a manner more pedantic than

poetic; but yet in pure and elegant language. He was likewise one of

the Spanish imitators of the Italian verse with dactyllic terminations,

called _versos esdrujolos_, from the Italian _versi sdruccioli_.[435]

Juan de Arguijo, a native of Seville, seems to have enjoyed high

reputation among the poets of his time. Lope de Vega formally dedicated

several of his works to him. Some well written sonnets and other small

poems are the only productions of this author now extant.[436]

Pedro Espinosa, an ecclesiastic who possessed some poetic talent,

and who wrote on various subjects, compiled a lyric anthology of the

works of the above and other Spanish poets, who adhered more or less

rigidly to the principles of the old school, but whose fancy sometimes

roamed unrestrained with Lope de Vega, or sometimes degenerated into

affectation with Gongora.[437]

RISE OF A NEW IRREGULAR AND FANTASTICAL STYLE IN SPANISH POETRY.

It is impossible to draw a rigid line of separation between the

disciples of the classic school, and the partizans of lyric

irregularity, who indulged in no less freedom than Lope de Vega, while

at the same time they endeavoured to exceed him in forced conceits.

Even the disciples of the classic school are not totally exempt from

extravagant ideas and unnatural metaphors; and they occasionally pour

forth a torrent of words, which though sometimes big with brilliant

ideas, more frequently wastes itself in mere froth and foam. It

cannot be doubted that the Italian school of the Marinists exercised

an influence on these Spanish poets. But Marino, being a Neapolitan

by birth, was a Spanish subject, and educated among Spaniards. It is

therefore more natural to regard his style as originally Spanish,

than to trace to Italy the source of those aberrations of fancy,

which, in the age of Cervantes and Lope de Vega, again found admirers

in Spain. Marino’s was the old Spanish national style, with all its

faults, divested of its ancient energy and purity, polished after

a new fashion, stripped of its simplicity, tortured into the most

absurd affectation of refinement, and that affectation displayed in a

boundless prolixity.

One of the most zealous adherents of this party was Manuel Faria y

Sousa, a Portuguese by birth. Some cause of discontent had induced him

to quit his native country and to fix his residence in Spain; and in

composing both poetry and prose, he in general preferred the Castilian

to his vernacular tongue.[438] It can scarcely be supposed that he

introduced this perverted taste from Portugal; though his Portuguese

poems exhibit no less affectation of style than those which he composed

in Castilian, and in which a judicious direction of the fancy is seldom

observable. His ideas are, for the most part, intolerably fantastic.

One of his Castilian songs, for example, is composed in honour of his

mistress’s eyes, “in whose beauty, (he says) love has inscribed the

poet’s fate, and which are as large as his pain, and as black as his

destiny, &c.”[439] He displays similar extravagance in most of his

Castilian sonnets: in one, for instance, he relates “how ten lucid

arrows of chrystal, were darted at him from the eyes of his Albania,

which produced a _rubious_ effect on his pain, though the cause was

chrystaline,” &c.[440] In this absurd style he composed hundreds of

sonnets. Faria y Sousa, however, wrote several good works on history

and statistics;[441] and it must be recollected that in his poetry he

merely followed the party which he most admired, and which indeed had

its precursors in Portugal as well as in Spain.

This party which soon became powerful, imitated the negligence of

Lope de Vega. But Lope de Vega was not a pedant; and when he failed

in producing real beauties, he did not coin false ones. His pretended

imitators, however, used the alloy of pedantry most unsparingly, and

thereby carried the affectation of ingenious thoughts, in the style of

the Italian Marinists, to an incredible height.

GONGORA AND HIS ESTILO CULTO--THE CULTORISTOS--THE CONCEPTISTOS.

Luis de Gongora de Argote was the founder and the idol of the

fantastical sect, which at this period led the fashion in literature,

and attempted to create a new epoch in Spanish poetry by dint of

exquisite cultivation and refinement. Gongora was a man of shrewd

and powerful mind; but his natural faculties were perverted by a

systematic prosecution of absurd critical reveries. Through life he

had to maintain a constant struggle with the frowns of fortune. He was

born in Cordova, in the year 1561; and after completing his studies in

his native city found himself without any provision for the future.

He took holy orders, and after eleven years of solicitation at the

court of Madrid, obtained a scanty benefice. The dissatisfied turn of

mind, occasioned by his adverse fortune, contributed to develope that

caustic wit, for which he was particularly distinguished. He wrote

satirical sonnets, which for bitterness of spirit can scarcely be

exceeded;[442] and he was still more successful in romances and songs

in the burlesque satirical style. Works of this kind, did not, it is

true, possess the merit of novelty in Spanish literature; but Gongora’s

satirical poems are vastly superior to those of Castillejo. It would

be scarcely possible to preserve, in a translation, the caustic

spirit of Gongora’s romances and songs. To give full effect to these

compositions, the genuine national spirit of the serious romances and

canciones must never be lost sight of. In Gongora’s satirical works the

language and versification are correct and elegant, and the piquant

simplicity of the whole style would never lead to the supposition that

the ambition of marking an epoch in literature could have betrayed

the author into the most intolerable affectation.[443] He was less

successful in seizing the cordial tone of the old narrative romances.

But his canciones in the ancient Spanish style are in general masterly

compositions, full of true natural and poetic feeling.[444]

It was doubtless in one of his moments of ill-humour that Gongora

conceived the idea of creating for serious poetry a peculiar

phraseology, which he called the _estilo culto_, meaning thereby the

highly cultivated or polished style. In fulfilment of this object,

he formed for himself, with the most laborious assiduity, a style as

uncommon as affected, and opposed to all the ordinary rules of the

Spanish language, either in prose or verse. He particularly endeavoured

to introduce into his native tongue the intricate constructions of

the greek and latin, though such an arrangement of words had never

before been attempted in Spanish composition. He consequently found it

necessary to invent a particular system of punctuation, in order to

render the sense of his verses intelligible. Not satisfied with this

patchwork kind of phraseology he affected to attach an extraordinary

depth of meaning to each word, and to diffuse an air of superior

dignity over his whole style. In Gongora’s poetry the most common

words received a totally new signification; and in order to impart

perfection to his _estilo culto_, he summoned all his mythological

learning to his aid. Such was Gongora’s _New Art_. In this style he

wrote his _Soledades_, his _Polyphemus_, and several other works. Even

the choice of the title _Soledades_, (Solitudes), was an instance of

Gongora’s affectation; for he did not intend to express by that term

the signification attached to a similar Portuguese word, (_Saudade_),

which is the title for a work relating to the thoughts and aspirations

of a recluse. Gongora wished by his fantastic title to convey an idea

of solitary forests, because he had divided his poem into _sylvas_,

(forests), according to a particular meaning which the word bears in

latin. This work, like all Gongora’s productions in the same style,

is merely an insipid fiction, full of pompous mythological images,

described in a strain of the most fantastic bombast.[445] The Duke

of Bejar, to whom the work is inscribed, must, if he only read the

dedicatory lines, have imagined himself transported to some foreign

region, in which the Spanish language was tortured without mercy.[446]

Gongora appears to have been peculiarly anxious to develope the spirit

of his _New Art_, both at the commencement and the close of his

whimsical compositions.[447]