HISTORY OF SPANISH LITERATURE FROM ITS DECLINE IN THE LATTER HALF
OF THE SEVENTEENTH TO THE END OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
This book is intended to be only a compendious supplement to the two
preceding books of the History of Spanish Poetry and Eloquence. Were it
even an agreeable task to describe in detail through what gradations a
nation rich in intellect, which unfortunately descended from the most
brilliant height of literary independence, to the servile imitation of
foreign forms, passed in this lamentable decline, until the depressed
national spirit began with patriotic feeling again to arise, and slowly
to re-animate the native literature--it still would be proper to leave
that office to the writer whose object it may be to give an account of
every production which appears within the circle of polite learning.
From him, however, who has rather chosen to take a general historical
view of the developement and progress of literary genius and taste in
modern Europe, it would be unreasonable to expect specific notices of
inferior works, published during the period of an expiring and slowly
reviving literature. In the eighteenth century, no poet arose in Spain
to form an epoch such as that finally marked in Italian literature by
Metastasio; and whatever was then accomplished in Spanish prose, was a
consequence of the imitation of French models.
It is scarcely necessary to observe, that according to the laws of
nature and the human mind, no distinct line of separation can exist
between this period and that which precedes it. When lights are
gradually and imperceptibly extinguished, it is impossible to name
the moment when obscurity commenced. It would be no less difficult
to fix precisely the epoch of the revival of Spanish literature, for
it is marked by no particular phenomenon. The necessary division
in the history of the progressive and retrogressive state of
Spanish literature must therefore be referred, without any precise
determination, to the reign of Charles II. from 1665 to 1700. Some
dramatic authors who maintained the respectability of the Spanish
national theatre, to the beginning of the eighteenth century, will
consequently be included in this last book. Thus the account of the
new dawn of national genius, promising better times, will be given in
connexion with the immediately preceding literary transactions.
This book may be conveniently divided into three chapters. The first
will contain the history of the complete decay of the Spanish national
spirit in respect to literature. In the second will be given a brief
account of whatever literary events appear to deserve consideration
from the reign of Charles II. to the commencement of the reign of
Charles III. The third chapter will be devoted to a summary notice of
the more recent occurrences, which particularly in the last ten years
of the eighteenth century appear to have given a new direction to
Spanish literature.
CHAP. I.
GENERAL VIEW OF THE STATE OF POETICAL AND RHETORICAL CULTIVATION
IN SPAIN DURING THIS PERIOD.
Within the century composed of the reigns of the three Philips, from
1556 to 1665, that is to say, the golden age of Spanish literature,
the national spirit, which the vicious system of the government was
calculated to repress, became at last like the national resources,
completely exhausted. Under Charles II. the wounds of the body politic
which had long profusely bled, began to exhibit frightful gangrenes.
In every quarter of the world Spanish valour had done its uttermost
for the support of the perverse measures of a despotic government, and
the state at length seemed on the verge of dissolution. The enormous
treasures which poured into Spain from the mines of America, were
immediately consigned to foreign nations. Thus the richest country
in the world was overwhelmed with debt. Agriculture and industry
languished particularly in the interior of the monarchy, where a near
view of the splendour of an ostentatious court still served to gratify
Castilian vanity, but where every blow levelled against the whole
state was most directly felt. The occupation of one half of America
carried off men from the mother country by thousands at a time; and in
addition to this drain, the population had been suddenly diminished to
the extent of nearly half a million, by the tyrannical expulsion of the
Moriscos, or baptized Arabs. Spain was also engaged in uninterrupted
warfare during the whole of the century in which the three Philips
reigned. Continual levies of troops, combined with oppressive
taxation, at length so reduced the nation, that the government lost
the instrument it had abused; and every sacrifice made to meet cases
of imperious urgency, served only to produce a new humiliation. The
little kingdom of Portugal, by a fortunate effort threw off the Spanish
yoke, and became once more an independent state. Torrents of Spanish
blood were shed in the Netherlands, with the view of suppressing, at
any price, the freedom of the United Provinces; yet those provinces
flourished in full vigour, while Spain was reduced to the last stage
of political inanition. Still, however, Spanish genius appeared to
soar superior to all the evils that assailed the state, as long, at
least, as the semblance of the ancient national greatness remained. But
with the death of Philip IV. even that semblance vanished. The widowed
queen, who was appointed guardian of the young king, then only five
years of age, acting under the influence of father Neidhart, a German
Jesuit, offered the last insult to the feelings of the nobility and the
people. No sooner was father Neidhart driven away by the party of Don
John of Austria, the natural son of Philip IV. than France obtained
possession of a considerable portion of the provinces which Spain still
held in the Netherlands. In the West Indies a republic of pirates was
established. This new enemy grew out of the remarkable association of
the Flibustiers, or Buccaneers, men who regarded Spanish America as a
booty on which they were entitled to prey. This state of things was
not improved when the full powers of government were placed in the
hands of the weak Charles II. the period of whose reign is the most
melancholy in Spanish history.
The circumstance of a French prince being called to the Spanish
throne, in obedience to that will of Charles II. which has been so
much censured, was by no means unfortunate for Spain, either in a
literary or political point of view. The war, which was partly a civil
contest, and which was maintained for twelve years before the new
Philip, the fifth of that name, was tranquilly seated on his throne,
seemed, however, to threaten the annihilation of the last remnant of
Spanish national vigour. The mild and rigidly pious Philip V. was,
by his personal character and mode of thinking, previously related
to the nation to which he now belonged. He manifested no desire
to transplant into Spain the literature of France, which at that
time began to exercise an influence over the whole of Europe. The
foreigners whose promotion to important posts during the reign of the
first Bourbon in Spain, rendered them the objects of much patriotic
jealousy, were Italians and Irishmen, but in no instance Frenchmen.
The French influence operated in Spain, only on the wavering politics
of the cabinet of Madrid; the change of the reigning dynasty produced
therefore little or no influence on Spanish literature. All that Philip
V. did to promote the advancement of learning on the French model,
was wholly confined to the celebrated institution of royal academies,
among which the academy of history, and still more, the academy of
the Spanish language and polite literature,[570] may be regarded as
having operated influentially on the literature of Spain. But this
last-mentioned academy, which was established in the year 1714, was
never intended for the annihilation of the spirit and peculiar forms of
Spanish poetry and eloquence. The cultivation of the Spanish language
was its especial care, and its labours for the accomplishment of that
object were crowned by the production of its excellent dictionary.
The efforts made by some members of this academy to form the taste of
their countrymen on the model of that of France, must be attributed
to themselves individually. They merely followed the new current of
French taste, in common with almost every person in Europe, who had
then any pretensions to polite education. If these innovators must be
called a literary court party, the term can only be employed in the
sense in which it would, with equal propriety, apply to the same sort
of party existing in other countries, where the French style became the
fashionable style of courts, and was, with courtier-like complaisance,
generally adopted by authors both in verse and in prose.
The French taste spontaneously penetrated into Spanish literature
when the age of Louis XIV. began to exercise an imposing influence
over the whole world. But the French taste would have operated on
the literature of Spain, which had already been carried so far
beyond that of France, in a very different manner, had not the old
national energy been crippled in every direction. Had it not been
for this unfortunate circumstance crowds of servile imitators and
pseudo critics would never have obtained a footing in Spain. Men of
rightly cultivated understanding would have reconciled their purer
taste to the yet unexhausted national genius, in order to enhance
the advantages of Spanish literature in its competition with the
literature of France, and to learn true elegance from the French,
without, like them, sacrificing to mere elegance beauties of a higher
order. But the age of vigour was past; and yet feeble pride would in
no respect renounce its pretensions. Two parties now arose in the
polite literature of Spain. The leading and would-be elegant party,
included persons of rank and fashion, who had begun to be ashamed of
the ancient national literature, and who yet wished to prove that that
national literature, even when estimated according to the rules of
French criticism, possessed many beauties. That the French might no
longer boast of superior taste, this party sought to improve Spanish
poetry, and particularly the Spanish drama, by translations of French
works and imitations of the French style. To this party of fashionable
innovators was opposed the old national party, composed of persons
distinguished for their obstinate attachment to the ancient taste, and
even to the ancient rudeness. This party continued, as heretofore, to
be that of the Spanish public; but it remained for a time without any
literary representative. Thus was it reduced to the necessity of seeing
writers, who laid claim to the title of Spanish patriots, publicly
attack its old favourites, particularly Lope de Vega and Calderon,
while no zealous pen took up their public defence. Nevertheless this
party continued unshaken in its opinions. Even during the extreme
crisis of the conflict between the French and the national taste, about
the middle of the eighteenth century, the Spanish theatre preserved its
own peculiar forms. It assumed, however, a character no less varied
than the German theatre at present exhibits. Plays in the national
style were performed on the Spanish stage alternately with translations
and imitations of French and even of English dramas; and if this
heterogeneous variety did not degenerate into the monstrous, as it now
does on the German stage, where a national style never prevailed, yet
nothing could be more inconsistent than the contrast formed by plays
in the French and English taste with the old Spanish comedies. But
these comedies, and in general all the old national poetry, once more
obtained spirited defenders among Spanish critics and authors, after
the shock of the last crisis had been withstood by the ancient taste in
its conflict with the modern. Thus another literary triumph was gained
by the tenacity of the Spanish public, to which, in matters of taste,
monarchs otherwise despotic, readily granted perfect freedom.
The mixture of national and foreign taste in the modern literature of
Spain, was promoted in no slight degree by the introduction of French
manners, which had at this period spread over Europe, but which were
in Spain less encouraged by court example than in other countries. At
the court of Madrid, old Spanish formality was still preserved; and
among the nobility, as well as the people, the national costume was
only gradually superseded by the French style of dress. Bull fights
continued to be the favourite amusements of the Spaniards from the
highest to the lowest ranks. But the solemn _Autos de Fe_,[571] in
which the inquisition appeared in all the splendour of its power,
and in which heretics were burnt amidst the approving shouts of the
spectators, no longer insulted humanity. The last of these horrible
festivals of fanaticism was performed with extraordinary pomp at Madrid
in the year 1680, in compliance with the pious wish of King Charles II.
The Bourbons who succeeded to the Spanish throne, whatever might be
the ardour of their catholic zeal, appeared to regard such barbarous
spectacles with disgust, and thus set an example of refinement which
honourably marked their relationship to the French royal family. At
this period, too, when the storm of the reformation had subsided,
religion as well as manners assumed a milder character throughout all
Europe. The Spaniards, however, could not be induced to renounce their
sacred comedies, until in the year 1765 they were formally prohibited
by a royal decree, because they excited the derision of foreigners.
Finally, in the second half of the eighteenth century, scientific
learning gained an ascendancy over polite literature in Spain, as
in every other part of Europe. A philosophy in the sense of the
French encyclopædists inflicted wounds equally mortal on fanaticism
and poetic enthusiasm. The spirit of experiment which sought by an
accumulation of facts to scan the furthest depths of human knowledge
and the principles of all science, and styled that accumulation sound
philosophy, had, since the time of the French encyclopædists, found
favour in Spain, as in every part of Europe, Germany excepted. True
poetry, to which this spirit of experiment is the most dangerous of
all enemies, could not easily revive in its former magnificence. But
a wider field of general utility was, under certain restrictions,
opened to elegant prose; and criticism at least obtained the negative
advantage of being able to impede any new encroachments of ingenious
extravagance.
CHAP. II.
DECAY OF THE OLD SPANISH POETRY AND ELOQUENCE, AND INTRODUCTION
OF THE FRENCH STYLE INTO SPANISH LITERATURE.
The last branch of Spanish national poetry still flourished in the
reign of Charles II. The French drama, which then appeared in the first
dawn of its celebrity, had as yet no influence on the drama of Spain.
Several assiduous writers continued to enrich Spanish literature with
new pieces in the manner of Calderon; and these writers have here the
first claim to consideration.
CANDAMO, ZAMORA, AND CAÑIZARES, DRAMATISTS IN THE OLD NATIONAL STYLE.
Towards the close of the seventeenth century, the dramas of Francisco
Bancas Cándamo, were particularly esteemed. Cándamo, who was an
Asturian of noble extraction, received, during a certain period, a
pension from Charles II. for writing for the court theatre at Madrid.
He, however, died in indigence in the year 1709. His historical
play, entitled, _El Esclavo en Grillos de Oro_, (the Slave in Golden
Fetters), is still spoken of in terms of approbation in Spain.[572] It
is a romantic anecdote taken from the history of the Emperor Trajan.
The singular combination of the ancient and the romantic costume which
this play presents, is a fault with which the author must not be
reproached; for since Lope de Vega’s time the spirit of the Spanish
drama required that the events of ancient history should be arrayed
only in the garb of romance. But Cándamo has put into the mouth of the
Emperor Trajan, a superabundance of phrases which are exceedingly dull,
though conveyed in light and harmonious verse. The purely romantic
scenes in which ladies and young knights appear, are the best in this
drama, which, according to the Spanish classification is a heroic
comedy.
Antonio de Zamora, a gentleman belonging to the court of Madrid, was
particularly distinguished as a writer of comic dramas. The comedy,
entitled, _El Hechizado por Fuerza_, (the Bewitched by Force),[573]
is one of the most humorous and regular in the Spanish language. It
may also be numbered among the dramas of character; at least the two
principal parts, though a little overcharged, are nevertheless boldly
conceived and consistently maintained. One is a fantastic old man, who
continually expresses himself in a tone of sarcastic comic humour:--he
makes a parade of his odd fancies, as if they were so many proofs of
real wisdom; and he is induced to consent to a marriage under the
idea that he is bewitched. The other comic character is an enamoured
physician, who is prevailed on to take a part in the pretended
bewitching, and who on his part is also outwitted by the sprightly
girls whom he has assisted in playing off their trick on the old man.
Joseph de Cañizares, who likewise lived at the court of Madrid,
produced a considerable number of Spanish comedies. He particularly
devoted his attention to that class of dramas of intrigue, called
_comedias de figuròn_, in which the principal character is a pretender
or braggadocio, either male or female, who by dint of impudence and
artifice, obtains a certain degree of credit. Among the dramas of
Cañizares, the Spaniards particularly esteem his comedy, entitled, _El
Domine Lucas_;[574] it is a drama of character, comic throughout, and
of the most regular description, though it by no means departs from
the Spanish national style. The title may be translated “The Pedant
Squire;” for Domine Lucas, the hero of the piece, is a young country
gentleman, a student of Salamanca, extremely dull and affected, and
withal proud of his noble birth. With this character is very happily
combined the uncle of Lucas, a brave, amiable, and sensible old
gentleman; though, like his nephew, he interlards his discourse with
scraps of latin from the _Corpus Juris_. An old domestic, who likewise
has resource to latin whenever his wit fails him, is well grouped
with his master’s. An excellent female pendant to the doltish hero is
exhibited in the character of one of the daughters of the old uncle,
who in the end is united to Lucas, while her sprightly sister, to whom
the Domine was betrothed, elopes with a more agreeable lover. The
traits of character in the whole of this comic picture, though by no
means delicately sketched, are, nevertheless, full of dramatic spirit.
These, and other plays, by writers whose names are not in any other
respect distinguished, complete the national treasure of the Spanish
drama. The striking regularity which distinguishes some pieces, must
by no means be attributed to the influence of French taste. It is
possible that a vague idea of the regularity of the French comedy may
at this time have penetrated into Spain; but among the older Spanish
dramas, particularly those of Solis and Moreto, some are no less
regular than the comedies of character written by Zamora and Cañizares;
who, besides, did not always, any more than their predecessors,
confine themselves rigidly within the bounds of regularity. In the
works of these latter poets, the theatrical personages are precisely
of the same cast as in the writings of the older dramatists. Young
officers, who are usually represented as giddy lovers, boast of their
adventures in Flanders, and sing romances to the accompaniment of the
guitar. This part is the prototype of that which on the French stage
was subsequently called the _Chevalier_. No trace of the imitation of
French manners is perceptible; and, if here and there a French word is
introduced, it is always with a comic signification.[575]
DOÑA JUANA INEZ DE LA CRUZ.
Nothing poetical produced at this period, or at least nothing sung
and written in the lyric or other styles of poetry in Spain, obtained
literary celebrity. It would, however, be unjust to pass over in
silence some works which made their appearance about this time, and
which are interesting, inasmuch as they afford instances of the
continuation of the taste for old Spanish poetry. Among these, the
most remarkable are the numerous productions of a Spanish American
poetess, named Doña Juana Inez de la Cruz, who was much celebrated
in Mexico about the latter end of the seventeenth century. On the
title-page of her works, which, however, she did not publish herself,
this distinguished woman is styled the tenth muse.[576] Respecting
the history of her life, nothing is known, save what is mentioned
in her poems. She was a nun in a Mexican convent; and she complains
of her weak state of health in the verses which form the preface to
her poems. Her writings sufficiently prove that she lived on terms of
intimacy with the viceroy and the other Spanish grandees in Mexico, and
that frequent demands were made upon her talent for the celebration
of festivals, both spiritual and temporal. Much as Inez de la Cruz
was deficient in real cultivation, her productions are eminently
superior to the ordinary standard of female poetry. Of all the Spanish
ladies who have turned their attention to poetry, she deserves to rank
the highest; though, perhaps, this station may not be deemed very
honourable, as Spanish women have so little distinguished themselves
in poetry. But for this very reason it seems the more worthy of
recollection, that under the sky of America, flowers of genius were
permitted to bloom, which in Spain would in all probability have been
blighted in the bud. The poems of Inez de la Cruz, moreover, breathe
a sort of masculine spirit. This ingenious nun possessed more fancy
and wit than sentimental enthusiasm; and whenever she began to invent,
her creations were on a bold and great scale. Her poems are of very
unequal merit; and are all deficient in critical cultivation. But
in facility of invention and versification, Inez de la Cruz was not
inferior to Lope de Vega; and yet she by no means courted literary
fame. The complete collection of her poems, which seems to have been
first printed by order of the Vice-Queen of Mexico, occupies a volume,
consisting of twenty-five sheets in octavo. Of some of her sonnets
the subjects are ingenious plays of romantic wit;[577] of others,
serious poetic reflections.[578] She also wrote burlesque sonnets on
rhymed endings, which, though sometimes deficient in delicacy, have
all the freedom and sprightliness that can be required in that species
of composition. A kind of poetic self-deception, which assumes the
tone of philosophic reasoning, is disclosed in several of the lyric
romances of Inez de la Cruz. She evidently took considerable pains to
persuade herself that she was happy.[579] A great portion of her poems
in the romance style, relate to circumstances of temporary interest.
In her dramatic works, the vigour of her imagination is particularly
conspicuous. The collection of her poems contains no comedies, properly
so called, but it comprises a series of boldly conceived preludes,
(_loas_), full of allegorical invention; and it concludes with a long
allegorical auto, which is superior to any of the similar productions
of Lope de Vega. It is entitled, _El Divino Narciso_, a name by
which the authoress designates the heavenly Bridegroom. The Spanish
public had never before witnessed so bold a travesty of the ideas
of catholic christianity, under the garb of the Greek mythology. It
would be impossible to give a brief, and at the same time intelligible
sketch of this extraordinary drama. With regard to composition it is
quite monstrous; in some respects offending by its bad taste, and in
others charming by its boldness. Many of the scenes are so beautifully
and romantically constructed, that the reader is compelled to render
homage to the genius of the poetess; while at the same time he cannot
but regret the pitch of extravagance to which ideas really poetic are
carried. There is one peculiarly fine scene in which human nature, in
the shape of a nymph, seeks her beloved, the real Narcissus, or the
christian Saviour. The imagination of the authoress had, doubtless,
been influenced by impressions received from the Song of Solomon.[580]
Next to this grand Auto, the spiritual canciones in the old Spanish
style, and some cantatas deserve to be distinguished among the works
of Inez de la Cruz. They abound in sentimental fancies, which, though
generally extravagant, often possess beauties which render them highly
interesting; and according to the notices in the collection, they
were all sung in the churches of Mexico. Some latin compositions of
the same class are inserted, which seem also to have been written by
Inez herself. The writer who may undertake a history of the poetic
developement of the catholic faith, will find his advantage in
rendering himself intimately acquainted with these poems.
GERARDO LOBO.
In order to be satisfied that Spanish poetry inclined very little
to the French, in the early part of the eighteenth century, it is
only necessary to advert to the continued influence of Gongorism
at that period, as exemplified in poetic productions, which are in
other respects too unimportant to claim any notice. Men of rank in
particular, who, following the honourable example of their forefathers,
continued to cultivate the arts and sciences, seem to have regarded
Gongorism as the only style that was truly gentlemanly and worthy of
their adoption. Accordingly Eugenio Gerardo Lobo, who was a captain
in the Spanish guards, and commandant of the town and fortress of
Barcelona, composed in his leisure hours, many spiritual and temporal
poems in the manner of the Gongorists, which, since the author’s
decease, have been reprinted.[581] A new edition of these poems, which
appeared in 1758, is inscribed by the publisher to a miraculous image
of the virgin, with all the usual formality of a dedicatory epistle.
In this dedication the holy virgin, in quality of queen of heaven, is
addressed by the title of “Your Majesty.” Thus in the middle of the
eighteenth century, when an elegant and learned party had long rendered
homage to French literature, the taste of the Spanish public could
still endure absurdities of this kind.
DIFFUSION OF THE FRENCH TASTE--LUZAN, HIS ART OF POETRY, &c.
It was, however, in the commencement of the eighteenth century that
the French taste found its way into the Spanish academy; and this
circumstance, which was not the effect of accident, serves to mark a
kind of epoch in the history of Spanish poetry.
Ignacio de Luzan, who has become the authority to whom most Spanish
critics refer, must be regarded as the founder of the French school in
Spanish literature. He was a member of the royal Spanish academy, a
member of the academy of history, an honorary member of the academy of
painting, sculpture, and architecture; and at the same time counsellor
of state and minister of commerce. In addition to these dignities,
he was distinguished for extraordinary learning; and he was in
particular very deeply versed in ancient literature. He studied with
great assiduity Aristotle’s Art of Poetry and Rhetoric, and also the
rhetorical works of Cicero. He was a lover of poetry, and composed
very elegant verses in his native tongue. Being, as his writings
sufficiently prove, a man of candid and enlightened mind, national
pride did not deter him from making himself intimately acquainted
with French literature; and comparing it without prejudice, under its
best point of view, with the literature of his own country. This was
certainly a course altogether new for a Spanish author.
In order to form a just estimate of the spirit of Luzan’s labours, it
is necessary to bear in mind that the theoretical literature of Spain
furnished him with scarcely a single trace of sound criticism; that
even those Spanish poets who possessed the justest feeling for poetic
beauty, propounded, in their theoretic explanations, the most erroneous
notions on the value and the essence of poetry; that only a critical
tact, and an instinctive imitation of good models, had preserved the
most correct among the Spanish poets from wanderings of the imagination
and perversions of judgment; and that in the age of Luzan, the only
art of criticism which was theoretically taught in Spain, had issued
from the school of Gongora, and was consequently only calculated
to assist the systematic propagation of absurdity and affectation.
Moreover, the elegant correctness of the French poets was, in that age,
calculated to dazzle by the charm of novelty. Finally, the delicate
subtleties whereby the principles of French criticism and of French
poetry, since the age of Moliere and Corneille, were derived from
the classic school of antiquity, and the moral syllogisms with which
those principles were entrenched behind Aristotle’s Art of Poetry, as
their last bulwark, were well calculated to seduce a man of Luzan’s
erudition. His partiality for the French school, and his efforts to
reform the Spanish taste according to the principles of that school,
are therefore no proofs of narrowness of mind, though genuine poetic
feeling certainly was not within the sphere of his talent. He possessed
a delicate sense for elegance and the dress of poetry, but not for the
energy and loftiness of poetic genius. It is thus easy to account for
his having, with the best intentions, theoretically misunderstood the
essence and design of poetry; and for his also having, in conformity
with the spirit of French criticism, confounded the objects of the poet
with the duties of the orator and the moralist.
It was then with the view of fundamentally reforming the literary taste
of his countrymen, that Luzan wrote his celebrated Art of Poetry. It
was first published at Saragossa in the year 1737, in a folio volume
containing five hundred and three pages;[582] and it has ever since
been the code to which Spanish critics and authors have referred
for the decision of all cases of doubt. Sound judgment and classic
erudition are the chief characteristics of the work. The diction too is
simple and elegant, and prolixity is avoided, though in order to attain
that degree of perspicuity which was necessary for subduing Spanish
prejudice, much detail was indispensable. Newly discovered truths must
not be looked for in Luzan’s Art of Poetry. He even claims credit for
the doctrines he developes on account of their venerable antiquity. His
theory is declared by himself to be in the main no other than that of
Aristotle, the greatest of philosophers. To the neglect of that theory
he attributes the multitude of monstrous excrescences by which Spanish
literature is disfigured. He therefore conceived he was rendering,
though at the risk of being reproached with pedantary,[583] an
important service to the literature of his country, by the restoration
and just application of those ancient and only true principles which
had long been acknowledged and valued by the critics of foreign
nations. In support of his doctrines, Luzan regards the critical
observations of various French writers, particularly Rapin, Corneille,
Crousaz, Lamy, and Madame Dacier, as next in authority to the works of
Aristotle. He also availed himself of the Italian works of Gravina and
Muratori. These, and other foreign authors, are quoted by name. Spanish
readers must, doubtless, have been not a little surprised to find
among the quotations passages from French authors, given in the French
language, under the Spanish text. This was an unexampled phænomenon in
Spanish literature; and though a trifling circumstance it serves to
prove the increasing influence of the French language in Spain.
The want of novelty in the principles of Luzan’s Art of Poetry, is
compensated by the new application of those principles to Spanish
literature. The arrangement of the theory, which was introduced,
also belongs, at least in part, to himself; and in the developement
of that theory it is easy to recognize the man of judgment, and the
perfect master of his subject, though he only improved what had been
previously produced. The work is divided into four parts or books.
The first developes, according to the notions of the author, the
origin, progress, and essence of poetry, (_el origen, progressos y
essencia de la poesia_.) The second book explains the usefulness and
pleasure of poetry, (_utilidad y deleyte de la poesia_.) The third
book treats, at ample length, of tragedy, comedy, and other kinds
of dramatic composition; and the fourth of epic poetry. These chief
divisions present, indeed, only the outline of Aristotle’s Art of
Poetry; and Luzan’s work, can no more than its prototype, be regarded
as a complete theory of the poetic art. In this respect Luzan went
no further than his predecessor, Lopez Pinciano, who had long before
equally clearly perceived that the work, called Aristotle’s Art of
Poetry, was, in fact, merely a fragment.[584] It is singular enough
that Luzan takes no notice of Pinciano’s remarkable work; but whether
he was unacquainted with it, or whether he was intentionally silent,
cannot now be known. Within the boundaries of his four unsystematic
divisions, Luzan pursues his own course; but the present is not the
proper occasion for accompanying him step by step. As, however,
the publication of Luzan’s book has been attended by important
consequences, it will be proper to explain the manner in which this
critic understood the principles of Aristotle, and how he applied them
to Spanish literature.
Luzan in his exposition and application of Aristotle’s theory, takes
his departure from the same false principle which misled all the
French critics in the age of Louis XIV. He views poetry closely and
directly on its moral side; but not in that comprehensive manner in
which every thing, when contemplated on its moral side, ought to be
examined; he regards it merely as an art destined to aid morality,
properly so called; and that aid appears to him the more easily given,
because he adopts the maxim that the object of poetry is to be at once
useful and agreeable.[585] Deceived by this gothic idea, which seems
to have been founded on the misunderstanding of a verse of Horace, and
which is certainly as old as modern literature, it became impossible
for him either to attain a just notion of the poetic workings of the
imagination, in relation to the beautiful, or to discover the truth
of the proposition that such employment of the imagination possesses
in itself, under the proper restrictions, a moral value, and ennobles
human existence. Having fallen into the common error, Luzan, like the
French poets and critics, was capable of taking only a very contracted
view of poetic beauty. Genuine simplicity and elegance, and in both a
delicate infusion of wit, formed with Luzan, as with the French poets
and critics, the summary of all poetic excellence. According to these
principles, the imagination was regarded as merely the handmaid of the
recreative wit and the moralizing judgment. Genius was to be tied down
by rules in conformity with these narrow ideas of the spirit and object
of poetry. To satisfy the taste, in the exercise of wit and judgment,
was regarded as the highest object of the poet’s efforts. The bold
flight to a freer and fairer world, whence the true poet derives the
spirit of his imaginings, in the imitation of nature, was deemed merely
an agreeable accessary. In a word, the genuine essence of poetry was
held to be an adventitious ornament, while its station was usurped by
mere natural sentiment, and elegant or ingenious simplicity.
The useful and the agreeable, in the trivial signification of the
terms, are therefore the verbal pivots around which Luzan’s whole
poetic theory turns. It is easy to conceive what degree of excellence
and truth was to be derived from such principles in their application
to Spanish literature. Luzan zealously supported the cause of good
taste against the absurdities of the Gongorists.[586] He exposed,
without reserve, the weak side of Lope de Vega’s poetry; and the
examples he selects from the works of that poet, in order to shew how
far they are at variance with nature and reason, prove precisely what
they are intended to prove. But to admire genius in its wanderings,
and even in many cases to prize those wanderings more than a frigid
elegance, required a view of the subject which Luzan’s mind did not
embrace. He was precisely the man to detect and enumerate the errors
of the favourite poetry of his country; but he wanted the critical
eye which would have enabled him to do justice to its beauties.
After defining poetry to be an “imitation of nature, either general
or particular, made in verse, for utility or amusement, or for both
together,”[587] he goes on to say, that little plays of wit, such as
sonnets, madrigals, and songs, may sometimes have no other object
than agreeable amusement; but that in poetry of a more important kind,
such as comedies, tragedies, and epopee, the useful and the agreeable
must necessarily be combined together, that is to say, the work must
at once instruct and entertain. Accordingly, when he comes to treat
more particularly of dramatic poetry, he says, “tragedy is such an
imitation of an action as is calculated to correct fear, pity, or
other passions; but a comedy must be an action so represented as to
inspire love of some virtue, or hatred and abhorrence of some vice
or fault.”[588] It is not necessary to particularize the judgments
which a critic, armed with these opinions, must have pronounced on
the Spanish drama. Luzan not only blamed the Spanish dramatists for
the violation of the Aristotelian unities, on the ground that such
violation was contrary to nature; but he even condemned as not moral,
or at least not sufficiently moral, the genuine nature which he could
not avoid recognizing in their works. He, however says, that what
is first to be esteemed in the Spanish dramatists, “is in general
their ingenious invention, their extraordinary wit and judgment,
admirable and essential qualities in great poets. Lope de Vega merits
particular praise for the natural facility of his style, and the adroit
way in which he has in many of his comedies painted the customs and
the character of certain persons. I admire in Calderon the dignity
of his language, which without ever being obscure or affected is
always elegant.”[589] He proceeds to eulogize the art of ingenious
developement displayed in Calderon’s dramas of intrigue; and attributes
a similar merit to some of the comedies of Antonio de Solis and
Moretto. Under the same point of view he judges the writings of the
later Spanish dramatists, on which he confers particular commendation
on account of their superior regularity.[590] Next follows a list of
the faults, which, according to the above principles, he imputes to
the Spanish drama in general, and to the favourite dramatic poets of
the Spanish public in particular; and on this subject he makes many
just observations. He had good reasons for not venturing to attack the
Spanish Autos. He accordingly dismisses them very briefly, pronouncing
no literary judgment on them, and merely observes that they are
allegorical representations in honour of “the most holy sacrament of
the altar.”
Thus did a critic, whose voice a century earlier would scarcely have
been heard, systematically undertake to reform Spanish taste. It
appears from Luzan’s introductory observations that he was either not
sufficiently acquainted with the history of the poetry of his nation,
or had forgotten most essential facts, otherwise he never could have
adopted the notion that Spanish taste had degenerated for want of
learned critics to open the eyes of the public. The Spaniards of
Luzan’s age paid no more attention to his Art of Poetry, than their
ancestors had bestowed on Lopez Pinciano’s, which inculcated the same
principles two hundred years earlier, when the Spanish drama was in
its infancy. But the members of the Spanish academy regarded Luzan’s
book with as much veneration, as if through it the light of pure taste
had first been disclosed to Spain; and thus was the academy at length
placed in conflict with the public it sought to improve. Whether all
the members of that literary institution concurred in Luzan’s plans of
critical reformation cannot now be known. This, however, is certain,
that nothing was written in defence of the national style, either by
an academician or by any other critic or amateur; and all the writers,
who, since that period, have by means of critical treatises and new
dramas, zealously laboured to improve the dramatic literature of Spain,
according to French principles, have been members of the Spanish
academy.
Luzan himself did his utmost to support his theory by some original
poetic productions and translations from the French. He translated
one of Lachausée’s comedies; but with what success it was represented
on the Spanish stage is not mentioned. It was, however, followed by
various translations of French dramas by other writers.
Luzan’s poetic compositions are certainly honourably distinguished
by correctness, facility and elegance, and by what may be termed the
poetry of language, from the works of the Gongorists which at that time
were not entirely exploded in Spain. They consist of occasional poems
and poetic trifles, such as might have been written without the aid of
genius by any man of cultivated mind, possessing a certain degree of
descriptive talent. Zealous Gallicist as Luzan was, he had too much
solidity of taste to attempt an imitation of the structure of French
verse in the Spanish language; and accordingly his contributions to
the poetic literature of his country are in the usual national metres.
A poem in octaves, which he read on the opening of the academy of
painting, sculpture and architecture, in 1752, fifteen years before the
publication of his Art of Poetry, received particular approbation. He
read poetic compositions of the same kind on several occasions. Some of
his odes and canciones were not published till after his decease; among
the number are two on the re-taking of the Fortress of Oran;[591] an
occasional poem, entitled, the Judgment of Paris, which is prettily
conceived, and elegantly executed;[592] and some poems imitated from
the Greek of Anacreon and Sappho.[593] Luzan died in the year 1754.
MAYANS Y SISCAR--BLAS NASSARE.
Among the contemporaries of Luzan, the royal librarian, Gregorio Mayans
y Siscar, is entitled to praise, for having, in biographical, literary
and rhetorical works, furnished many hints and notices which throw
light on the history of Spanish poetry and eloquence. His collection of
detached writings on the History of the Spanish Language, (_Origenes de
la Lengua Española_), embraces more than the title promises; and among
other things contains a well written discourse exhorting authors to
pursue the true idea of Spanish eloquence.[594] But his diffuse Art of
Rhetoric,[595] which he published twenty years later than the work last
mentioned, is merely a formal compilation of the ideas and criticisms
of Aristotle and modern writers. It might with equal propriety be
entitled an art of poetry. The examples given from the poets are long
and numerous.
Blas Antonio Nassare, prelate and academician, laboured to attain the
same kind of merit. He was, however, so blinded by his predilection for
French literature, that he considered the eight comedies of Cervantes,
which he first restored to light, as parodies on the style of Lope de
Vega.[596]
MONTIANO’S TRAGEDIES IN THE FRENCH STYLE.
Agustin de Montiano y Luyando, who was counsellor of state, director
of the academy of history, and a member of the Spanish academy,
undertook to introduce regular tragedy on the Spanish stage according
to Luzan’s principles. With this view he wrote two tragedies, the one
entitled _Virginia_, and the other _Ataulpho_, in which, with the
exception of the rhymeless iambics, which he substituted for the French
Alexandrines, he has most anxiously endeavoured to fulfil all the
conditions required by French criticism.[597] Both these tragedies are
remarkable for pure and correct language; for the cautious avoidance of
false metaphor; and for a certain natural style of expression, which
is sometimes wanting even in the dramas of Corneille and Racine. They
are, however, formed on the French model with such scrupulous nicety
that they might be mistaken for translations.[598] It is scarcely
necessary to mention, that in these tragedies the Aristotelian unities
are rigidly observed, and that in the Virginia the father does not stab
his daughter on the stage.
To the play of Virginia which was published in 1750, some years before
Ataulpho, Montiano annexed a historical critical treatise on Spanish
tragedy.[599] Patriotism had certainly some share in this treatise;
for in the first place, Montiano wished historically to defend his
countrymen against the reproach that no Spanish tragedy had ever been
written; and secondly, he wished in his Virginia to furnish the first
experiment of a Spanish tragedy, without violation of dramatic rules,
though he did not pretend to set up that specimen as a model. He
states, with all due modesty, that his work cost him much labour, and
expresses a hope that his countrymen will be induced to imitate his
example, to disregard the approbation of the ignorant multitude, and to
strive to do better than he had done.[600] In a preface to his tragedy
of Ataulpho he enlarges on the same theme.
VELASQUEZ.
Among the number of the Spanish Gallicists must likewise be included
that intelligent writer Luis Joseph de Velasquez. His History of
Spanish Poetry, (_Origenes de la Poesia Española_), which was published
in 1754, proves that the Spaniards had then, in a great measure,
forgotten their national literature. Velasquez unquestionably took
considerable pains to collect, with critical spirit, those facts which
were probably better known to him than to any of his contemporaries;
and yet he has, upon the whole, obscured rather than elucidated the
history of Spanish poetry. His criticism is quite in the French style,
with a slight tincture of Spanish patriotism. Velasquez was a member of
the French academy of inscriptions and belles lettres.
Not a single Spanish poet of distinguished merit flourished during the
first half of the eighteenth century. That such a barrenness should
have succeeded so great a fertility of talent, is a circumstance which
the exhaustion of the national spirit does not sufficiently explain.
It is also necessary to take into the account the conflict maintained
between favour shewn to the French style and the demands of the
Spanish public. Supported by national approbation, the Spanish poetry
had gloriously flourished; but it perished when new arbiters of taste,
who judged according to foreign principles, could with impunity treat
the Spanish public as an ignorant multitude.[601] In this collision
Spanish eloquence sustained no immediate injury. The influence of
the French style, could indeed at that time do it no injury, for at
the commencement of the eighteenth century, French prose was fitted
to serve as a model for clearness, precision, facility and elegance.
But no aspiring spirit now animated Spanish authors. Books written in
correct prose were produced in sufficient numbers; and yet no work
appeared which deserved particular distinction for rhetorical merit, or
which contributed in any degree to invigorate the literature of Spain.
CHAPTER III.
CONCLUDING PERIOD OF THE HISTORY OF SPANISH POETRY AND ELOQUENCE.
The Spanish writers who lived about the middle of the eighteenth
century, began to be ashamed of the unworthy bondage which had severed
them from all common feeling with the public taste. It is doubtful
whether at this particular period, the nation in general began
once more to be roused to a sense of its own importance; but this
is certain, that a literary patriotism imperceptibly revived within
the narrow circle of Spanish authorship. Even several members of the
Spanish academy proved that they were no longer to be satisfied with
mere French elegance. The works of the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries were again received into favour. Men of superior talents
arose, who endeavoured to combine Spanish genius with French elegance;
and the literature of Spain began to acquire a new life.
LA HUERTA.
One of the first who openly attacked the party of the Gallicists, was
the patriotic Vicente Garcia de la Huerta, a member of the Spanish
academy, and librarian to the king. None but a man whose literary
judgments were accredited by the same honourable posts which gave
peculiar weight to those of the Gallicists, could at that time hope
to oppose with success the fashionable opinion concerning Spanish
literature. La Huerta, however, undertook a dangerous task, for with
every talent and right feeling for genuine poetry, he was by no means a
skilful critic. In systematic coolness of judgment he was incompetent
to enter the lists with men of Luzan’s critical ability. The true
principles on which Spanish poetry was to be defended against French
criticism, were at that period not at all understood; and La Huerta
was not the man to discover them. But his feeling acted in the place
of his judgment. It groped on when abandoned by theory, and rejected
every theory to which it could not be reconciled. Conscious of his
deficiency, La Huerta was extremely diffident whenever his opinions
came into collision with those of Luzan and other academicians. But
when his task was to reply to the observations of French critics,
his patriotic enthusiasm knew no bounds. In exercising the law of
retaliation, he attacked the admired Coryphæi of the French Parnassus
with a grossness which would cast a stigma on his reputation for taste,
did not his other works sufficiently prove him to have been unjust,
only through the excess of a just indignation. Fortunately for La
Huerta, it was not until his works had obtained decided credit that he
openly avowed his hostility to the Gallicists. Among the poems which
first conferred celebrity on his name, is a piscatory eclogue, which
he read at a distribution of academic prizes in the year 1760. This
purely occasional effusion is written in the national lyric style of
the eclogues of the best period of Spanish poetry, and is free from
orientalisms.[602] Three years afterwards, on a similar occasion, he
read a mythological poem in stanzas. These were succeeded by other
poems, also of occasional origin, by which La Huerta disarmed the
critics, who might have been disposed to assert that he was destitute
of the necessary feeling for French elegance. The romances by which
he sought to give to that style of national poetry a new existence in
the elegant world, seem to have been written at various periods of his
life. Besides lyric romances, which had not entirely lost their ancient
consideration, he composed narrative romances in the old style. In one
of the latter compositions his success is remarkable.[603] He likewise
revived the Spanish custom of composing poetic glosses; and some of his
sonnets deserve the highest praise. That he was well acquainted with
latin and French poetry is evident from his metrical translations of
some of Horace’s odes, and of several fragments from the works of the
French poets.[604]
But he had greater difficulties to overcome in his endeavours to
restore the Spanish drama to its former lustre. He was not so great a
poet as to be able to advance, accompanied by French elegance, in the
same course in which Calderon had stopped. Calderon’s dramas were,
however, still performed with approbation, in spite of all that was
said by the critics, and La Huerta wrote for one of these pieces a
prologue (_loa_) in the old style. At length when he thought he could
rely on the favour of a certain portion of the public, he came forward
with his first essay in tragic art. His _Raquel_, (Rachel), a tragedy,
which was intended to combine the old Spanish forms with the dignity
of the French tragic style, without being subject to the French rules
of dramatic art, was first performed at the court theatre of Madrid
in 1778. For upwards of half a century no new drama had been received
with such enthusiasm by the Spanish public. It was represented at
every theatre in Spain; and even before it was printed upwards of two
thousand copies were taken, and many sent as far as America.[605] The
Gallicists in Spain now rose in opposition to La Huerta; but he replied
to them in a tone of contemptuous haughtiness, while he always observed
the strictest modesty in addressing the public.
La Huerta’s Rachel is not a master-piece; but it is a noble testimony
of the poetic national feeling of an ingenious writer, who exerted
his utmost endeavours to restore the credit of the Spanish drama. The
subject is taken from the old history of Castile. King Alphonso VIII.
who has resigned his heart and his royal dignity to the fair Jewess
Rachel, is implored by the people and the nobility to shake off the
dishonourable yoke. He hesitates between love and duty, until the
spirit of discontent, which has been with difficulty repressed, breaks
forth in rebellion. While the king is out hunting, Rachel is surprised
in the palace, and her base counsellor, Ruben, murders her to save
his own life; which he only preserves until the arrival of the king,
by whom he is killed in return. The tragedy is divided, according to
the old practice, into three _jornadas_; but, in other respects, it
is obvious that the author took considerable pains to conform, under
certain limitations, to the French rules of dramatic art. The dialogue
proceeds uniformly in iambic blank verse, without the introduction of
sonnets, or any other kind of metre. All irregular theatrical pageantry
is avoided. The language, upon the whole, preserves a dignified
character; and in several scenes the tragic pathos is complete.[606]
But the composition fails in the distribution of the characters. Only
a feeble light is thrown on Rachel, the heroine of the tragedy. Her
counsellor, Ruben, is a stupid contemptible Jew, whose lamentations
in the moment of danger border closely on the ludicrous;[607] and the
weak character of the king, who changes his resolutions on every new
impression, frequently approaches caricature. The author has, however,
succeeded admirably in exhibiting a striking contrast in the characters
of two Spanish grandees:--the one is a base courtier, named Manrique;
while the other, Garcia de Castro, in all his sentiments and actions is
a correct representative of the spirit of ancient Spanish chivalry in
its purest dignity. In the patriotic portraiture of this character, La
Huerta’s whole soul is developed;[608] and the national spirit which
pervades the tragedy, doubtless contributed in no small degree to
ensure its celebrity.
La Huerta’s tragedy of _Agamemnon Vengado_, is a work of trivial
importance compared with Rachel. It is founded on the prose translation
of the Electra of Sophocles, which Perez de Oliva produced two
hundred years earlier;[609] but it is a remarkable, and by no means
unsuccessful attempt to unite the romantic and the classic forms,
according to the conditions required by a modern audience. La Huerta
wrote his Agamemnon in compliance with the wishes of some ladies of
Madrid, who were desirous of seeing a tragedy in the Grecian costume.
The place of the chorus is, after the French manner, supplied by
a female confidante. Part of the scenes are entirely taken from
Sophocles, others are those of the original remoulded, and some are
new. From the beginning to the end of the tragedy, the poetic language
is admirably preserved; and the alternation of the rhymeless iambics
with octaves and lyric metres, completes the beauty of the whole.[610]
Finally, La Huerta adapted Voltaire’s _Zaire_ to the Spanish stage.
After he had unquestionably acquired the right of pronouncing a
decided opinion on the literature of his country, he published his
_Theatro Hespañol_; and in his prefaces to some of the volumes of
that collection, he launched forth his invectives against the French
drama.[611] La Huerta’s _Theatro Hespañol_ is a classic selection
from the incalculable store of Spanish dramas; and the selection is
certainly well made consistently with the plan which he had adopted.
With the view of marking his hostility towards the Gallicists,
he selected only those Spanish comedies which are particularly
distinguished for elegant ingenuity in point of invention and
execution. Thus upwards of three-fourths of the whole collection
consists of _comedias de capa y espada_, chiefly from the pen of
Calderon. But for this very reason the work does not properly fulfil
its title, as it exhibits the Spanish theatre only under one point of
view. La Huerta has not even selected a single piece from Lope de Vega,
because the plays of that great dramatist were not sufficiently elegant
for his purpose: neither has he granted a place to the most beautiful
of Calderon’s heroic comedies, being deterred from inserting them by
their irregularity; and in conformity with the plan he had laid down,
he could with still less propriety admit an _Auto_ into his collection.
By this work he, however, attained the objects he had in view, which
were to restore the Spanish national comedy to its honourable place
in literature, and to vent his feelings of indignation against the
Gallicists. He treats the Italian authors, who had openly avowed their
disapproval of the Spanish drama, with no less severity than he had
evinced towards the French critics. Quadrio, Tiraboschi, Bettinelli,
and other writers “of the same breed,” (_de la misma raza_), are
denounced by La Huerta as malignant and envious critics. He accuses
Signorelli, of “notorious falsehood.” “Childish egotism,” he says, is
the soul of French criticism. The icy coldness of French tragedy was
with him more offensive than the neglect of rules in the Spanish drama.
Racine, the favourite tragic writer of the French school, owed his fame
solely to the “tedious scrupulosity,” which he observed in composing
his tragedies, but not to the “masculine vigour of genius, or the fire
and spirit of fancy.” The “natural sublimity” of Spanish genius could
not be restrained by the fetters of the French school. Luzan, though
in many respects a very estimable author, was imbued with prejudices.
Velasquez, with all his delicacy and erudition had fallen into the
errors and misconceptions of Luzan. In general, Spanish poetry had,
like the Spanish nation, a certain _oriental_ character, which it was
fit it should preserve. French imitations of Spanish dramas of intrigue
are declared perfectly insupportable; and, in particular, the Marriage
of Figaro, “a comedy altogether contemptible,” (_despreciada en todas
sus partes_.[612])
La Huerta remained a debtor to the public for the critical grounds of
these denunciations, which called forth the bitterest answers from the
adverse party, and also for a reply to his opponents. He asserted
briefly and bluntly that those opponents were merely “a ludicrous pack
of cynical and drivelling critics, the vehicles of envy, ignorance, and
imbecility.” What might not this patriotic author have effected had he
been as energetic in his reasoning as in his abuse! He nevertheless
appears to have contributed more than any of his contemporaries to
produce a re-action in Spanish literature, which was indispensable to
give to that literature the opportunity of again acquiring a poetic
elevation.
SEDANO.
The publication of the choice Spanish poems, collected by Don Juan
Joseph Lopez de Sedano, was a circumstance very favourable to the
restoration of the poetry of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries to
its proper place in Spanish literature. This work appeared in the year
1768, under the title of the _Parnaso Español_; but there certainly
would have been little difficulty in producing a better collection. The
notions which Sedano entertained respecting religion and morality have
induced him to mingle not a few bad and indifferent productions with
poems of superior merit; and it was by no means a happy idea to reprint
long translations, such, for example, as the whole of Tasso’s Amynta,
when so much of the rich fruit of the original Spanish stock remained
ungathered. But the undertaking was praiseworthy; and the biographical
and literary notices annexed to the work rendered the Spanish public
once more acquainted with estimable authors whom it ought never to have
forgotten.
YRIARTE.
Tomas de Yriarte, general archivist to the high council of war, and
translator to one of the ministerial departments of state in Madrid,
combined French elegance with the ancient forms of Spanish poetry in a
manner very different from that of La Huerta. After he had acquired a
certain degree of reputation by several translations of French dramas,
by original poems in the latin language, and various other literary
labours, he obtained more decidedly the favour of the elegant portion
of the Spanish public by his _Fabulas Literarias_, (Literary Fables),
which were first printed in the year 1782.[613] Yriarte conceived the
novel idea of rendering literary truths, many of which may at the same
time be regarded as moral truths, themes for fables in the style of
Æsop; and of composing these fables in every variety of verse which
was in any way applicable to them. No classical fabulist had hitherto
appeared in Spanish literature. Yriarte’s fables are, however, not only
remarkable for their classic language and excellent versification,
but they possess a peculiar charm of style which may be mistaken for
a happy imitation of the manner of Lafontaine, though it is to be
traced to a different source. Like Lafontaine, Yriarte had a true
feeling for that delicate harmony which is so indispensable to the
fabulist, and for that spirited infantine style, which, in a graceful
prattling, playfully unfolds the truth as it were intuitively, and, as
it ought always to be disclosed, in apologue, without the slightest
trace of didactic design. He had no need to turn to the writings of
foreigners in quest of the literary elements of such a style. It
was only necessary to combine the exquisite simplicity of many old
Spanish romances and songs, with the true spirit of Æsopian fable,
and his narrative style could not fail to assume the tone in which it
so successfully rivalled the manner of Lafontaine. Accordingly among
Yriarte’s sixty-seven literary fables, those which are composed in
redondillas and other kinds of Spanish national measures, possess the
superiority in point of graceful execution. Some are not remarkable for
their didactic merits. But even when the idea, or what is styled the
moral, presents no particular interest, Yriarte’s fables please by the
graceful handling of the subject: an example of this may be seen in
the fable of the Ass, which finding a flute in a meadow, accidentally
breathes into the lip-hole with his nose, and on hearing the tone of
the instrument, persuades himself that nature has qualified him for
a musician.[614] Whether Yriarte wholly invented these fables, is a
question which can only be decided by laborious investigation. One
of the number, in so far as regards the lesson or moral, precisely
resembles Gellert’s fable of the Painter in Athens.[615] Yet this
circumstance by no means warrants the inference that it is borrowed.
Considerable praise has been bestowed on a didactic poem by Yriarte,
entitled Music;[616] but with all the merits which this production
may in other respects possess, it is no less deficient in the true
characteristics of a didactic poem, than are the earlier essays of the
Spaniards in the same class. It is judiciously conceived, executed with
the requisite elegance of language, and contains many passages which
are by no means destitute of poetic beauty.[617] But the systematic
form is not disguised by poetic composition. Instead of diffusing
a poetic interest over the truths which were to be inculcated, and
presenting even the instruction as a picture of the imagination,
according to the proper though seldom realized idea of a didactic
poem, Yriarte, like most didactic poets, regarded instruction as the
main object, and the creations of poetic fancy merely as accessory
embellishments: thus three-fourths of his work consist only of
elegantly versified prose.[618]
LEON DE ARROYAL.
To give an account of all the other poets, who at the latter end of the
eighteenth century contributed to restore the credit of Spanish poetry,
is a task which must be consigned to other historians of literature,
who may possess favourable opportunities for rendering themselves
intimately acquainted with the more recent productions of Spanish
genius. A considerable number of bibliographic notices which would
contribute to the accomplishment of this object are extant.[619]
In taking a survey, however, of the latest period of the history
of Spanish poetry, the odes of Leon de Arroyal must not be
overlooked.[620] Though these odes are inferior to the older Spanish
productions of the same sort, yet some of them are distinguished,
not indeed for bold, but for airy flights of fancy;[621] and for
harmonious versification.[622] At the time of their appearance there
were likewise published anonymously some anacreontic songs by a lady,
who imitated Villegas with grace as well as with decorum.[623]
JUAN MELENDEZ VALDES.
But a poet of the graces, who has had but few equals even in the golden
ages of Spanish poetry, and who excels in his particular sphere,
remains to be noticed. This ornament of modern Spanish literature, is
Juan Melendez Valdes, a doctor of law, and, perhaps, still professor
of polite literature in Salamanca. A delicate fancy, ever lively,
yet ever true to nature; an uncommon intensity of feeling; graceful
turns of thought; a classic precision and elegance of language, and
the most pleasing flow of versification, exist in so eminent a degree,
and are so happily combined in this author’s works, that the critic
is compelled to become a panegyrist, if he be not totally insensible
to the charm which such a phenomenon presents in modern poetry.[624]
At an early period of life, Melendez began to retrace the footsteps
of Horace, Tibullus, Anacreon, and Villegas; but, as he must have
felt that the luxuriant graces of his Spanish model were not to be
excelled, his imagination appears to have spontaneously applied itself
to a more exquisite painting of amatory ideas and images, and to the
dignifying of that kind of poetry by a certain moral delicacy to the
observance of which Villegas attached too little importance. The joys,
sorrows, and sports of rustic love, rural festivals and amusements,
are the materials which confer a peculiar character on the anacreontic
effusions of Melendez. Were it not that the picturesque descriptions
sufficiently indicate the Spaniard,[625] his verses might sometimes
be mistaken for translations from an English or German poet. Nothing
can surpass some of his descriptions in the graceful colouring of
tender sentiment.[626] It is only necessary to bestow a slight glance
on the compositions of Melendez to feel the injustice of the reproach
cast on Spanish poetry, by a French traveller, who observes “that the
Spaniard is so completely a citizen, that not even in his poetry does
he manifest a taste for rural life.” This reproach, which is probably
only directed against the poetic writers of the present day, would
be unworthy of notice were it intended to apply to the Spanish poets
of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, whose numerous pastoral
compositions abound in descriptions of rural scenery, which evince an
intuitive perception of the poetic beauties of unsophisticated nature.
Be this as it may, the Spanish academy thought proper, in the year
1780, to award a prize for the best poem in praise of rural life; and
on this occasion Melendez gloriously competed with Yriarte.
Besides the anacreontic poems of Melendez, his lyric romances, his
popular songs, in which the old national style is combined with
modern elegance, his romantic odes, his elegies and his sonnets, must
be numbered among the best productions in Spanish literature.[627]
How admirably he succeeded in the composition of poetic epistles
is proved by the classical dedication of his poems to his friend
Jovellanos.[628] He has rendered service to the Spanish theatre by
dramatizing the novel of the rich Camacho from Don Quixote. He is also
the author of several treatises on moral and philosophical subjects.
BRIEF NOTICE OF SOME OF THE MORE RECENT LITERARY PRODUCTIONS OF SPAIN.
If the above information respecting some of the latest Spanish poets
be connected with the general observations and bibliographic notices
in the preceding part of this history, it will plainly appear that
the revival of polite literature in Spain must have been on the one
hand accelerated, and on the other retarded, by the progress which was
made in the cultivation of modern science and philosophy, during the
latter years of the eighteenth century. The period of the triumph of
the Gallicists is doubtless past, however numerous the adherents of
that party still may be. But in general the Spaniards of the educated
and refined classes still blush for their ancient prejudices, and
observe, with regret, that the Spanish literature is now only labouring
to acquire what it long ago neglected. In order to raise the elegant
literature of Spain to a level with that of other cultivated nations
of modern Europe, it is deemed necessary to continue with persevering
spirit to translate, adapt and imitate every foreign work which attains
any degree of celebrity. In this concurrence of the spirit of foreign
literature with the ancient national spirit, which is by no means
suffered to perish, more than one decennial period of the present
century will probably elapse ere Spanish poetry resume its original
independence.
Among their modern dramas, the Spaniards particularly esteem the
regular tragedies of Nicolas Fernandez de Moratin, and the comedies of
Ramon de la Cruz, who, previous to the year 1784, was computed to have
written upwards of two hundred interludes in the old style. Spanish
translations of the tragedies of Corneille and Voltaire, of the plays
of Moliere, and other French comic writers, and of the sentimental
dramas of Mercier, have also been received with approbation. Don
Leandro Fernandez de Moratin, who must not be confounded with his
namesake, travelled at the expense of the Spanish government to study
the dramatic literature of the different nations of Europe; and since
his return to Spain, a considerable pension has been granted to him
as a reward for one of his dramatic productions. He has rendered
the tragedy of Hamlet into Spanish, and is expected to give to his
countrymen a complete translation of Shakespeare. Don Luciano Francisco
Comella, who is mentioned in literary journals as one of the rivals
of Leandro de Moratin in comic poetry, appears to be a very prolific
writer, and inclined to the old national style. Don Theodoro de la
Calla has attempted to give Shakespeare’s Othello in Spanish, from
a French translation. Comella has also dramatized several recent
historical events, among which are some points in the history of Peter
the Great, and Catharine II. of Russia.
The Count de Noroña has particularly distinguished himself as a writer
of lyric poetry, and he has also translated Dryden’s Alexander’s Feast
into Spanish verse.
Joseph Vasquez Cadalso, and the younger Moratin, may be ranked among
the most successful writers of satirical poetry which Spain has
recently produced.
_Diana_, or the _Hunt_, by the elder Moratin; the _Happy Man_, by
Almeida; and the _Happy Woman_, by Morino, are the latest productions
in didactic poetry. A Spanish translation of _How to be always Merry_,
from the German of Uz, also occurs in the notices of new Spanish poems.
The old ambition of the Spaniards to distinguish themselves by some
production in epic art has again revived. A work of this class,
entitled, _Mexico Conquistada_, by Don Juan de Escoiquiz, has excited
some attention.
Spanish pastorals in the old national style are associated with
translations from the German of Gessner.
The collision of the natural and foreign styles is strikingly
exemplified in the Spanish romance literature of the present period.
The old romance of _Cassandra_ has lately been re-printed; and a
new one in the old style, entitled, _Leandra_, has also made its
appearance. All the English and French novels which obtain any
celebrity, are now translated into Spanish.
Elegant prose, which was earlier cultivated in Spain than in any
other country in Europe, seems at length to have emancipated itself
from the Gongorism which threatened its destruction. The prevailing
study of French prose in Spain, has no doubt proved favourable to the
revival of the pure eloquence of the writers of the sixteenth century.
None, indeed, of the more recent works in Spanish prose is eminently
distinguished for rhetorical composition. But on the other hand, among
these publications it would be difficult to mention a single book of
science, whether original or translated, which is not written with
a certain degree of purity and elegance. An historical work in the
Spanish language has been for some time announced, and is probably now
before the public. It is a History of America, by D. Juan Bautista
Muñoz, professor of philosophy at Valencia. The intention of the author
is to exhibit the conduct of the Spaniards in America in a point of
view different from that taken by Robertson; and the work is said to
be remarkable for beauty of style.
The Art of Rhetoric,[629] by Don Antonio de Capmany, a member of the
Spanish Academy of History, affords a new proof of the importance which
the Spaniards attach to the cultivation of elegant prose. The preface
to this work is particularly instructive. The book itself contains no
new truths, but it presents the old ones well arranged and judiciously
selected. Capmany’s work, and particularly the preface, clearly shews
that Spanish eloquence is still, in some measure, in a divided state.
The classic prose of the sixteenth century is again esteemed. But in
any endeavour to restore this prose unchanged, it must be difficult
to avoid the appearance of affectation; for since the prevalence of
the French taste, many Spanish words and phrases, which were formerly
classical, have now become antiquated, while on the other hand, old
words and phrases have been introduced from the French. The party of
the _purists_, as the adherents of the old style are denominated,
have the prevailing language of the polite world against them; while
the polite world and the partizans of the French style, can adduce no
good reasons for rejecting the old style, which is acknowledged to be
pure Castilian. Capmany is decidedly favourable to the new style.[630]
However, this conflict will not prove injurious to Spanish eloquence,
if each party be willing to make concessions, in order that the old
style may be fundamentally preserved, and yet be so modified as to
conform, without affectation, to the new ideas and forms of language
which modern science has introduced.
All these facts considered in their connexion as a whole, leave no room
to doubt that the polite literature of the Spaniards may again rise to
its former glory, if favoured by the ancient national spirit, to the
genial influence of which it owes its existence. The two academies of
polite literature, (_de buenas letras_), at Barcelona and Seville, may
likewise contribute to the fulfilment of this object, if they seriously
devote their attention to it. The talent of the Spanish improvisatori,
who are said to be in no way inferior to those of Italy, may also be
directed to the revival of the ancient popular poetry. Since the works
of the poets and elegant prose writers of the golden age of Spanish
literature have lately been republished in elegant editions, and
universally circulated, and since the new demands of reason and science
have promoted the developement of the mental faculty in Spain, the
best results may be expected from the union of elegant and scientific
learning.
CONCLUSION.
It is only after having duly studied the polite literature of Spain in
all its parts, with the interest attached to literary investigation,
that it is possible to characterize it as a whole, and to obtain
possession of the results which such a characteristic judgment ought to
present.
I. Spanish poetry is more decidedly national than any other branch
of modern poetry in Europe. Even the Italians have only transferred
their spirit and character into forms; which, though ennobled by a
genial classic refinement of style, were originally derived from the
Provençals. But the Spanish, or to speak with more precision, the
Castilian poetry, which arose in the neighbourhood of the Provençal,
is a peculiar stream from the romantic Parnassus. When the Spaniards
admitted the Italian forms into their poetry, they did not transfer the
old Spanish character to these nationalized forms, in the same manner
as the Italians, by classic improvement of style, and enlargement
of the boundaries of romantic composition, converted the Provençal
poetry into pure Italian poetry. The Spanish poets made the classic
purity, and polish of the Italian forms, subservient in a new manner
to the orientalism of their ancient national literature. A tendency to
the old orientalism is indeed plainly perceptible even in the works
of the few Spanish poets, who were the most disposed, like Luis de
Leon, Cervantes, and the two Argensolas, to adopt the opinions of the
ancients and the Italians with regard to the correctness of ideas and
images. This orientalism of the Spanish character and poetry which has
long been disapproved, is now decidedly pronounced bad taste, because
the general idea of poetry, which is the same for all ages and all
nations, is superseded by Greek, Italian, or French national ideas;
and thus that beauty which is general is made subject to particular and
subordinate laws. But as long as the ideal creations of the imagination
are not entirely at variance with reason and nature, they may far
overstep the boundaries of the Greek and other national forms, without
violating the supreme laws of the beautiful. A true theory of taste
should therefore induce us to look beyond all factitious limits of the
creative and plastic powers of imagination for a critical point of
view, which has only nature and reason for its basis. Considered from
such a point of view, that orientalism, which is ridiculous and absurd,
becomes at once distinguishable from that which belongs to the truly
sublime and beautiful. Spanish poets, it is true, have often failed to
observe this distinction. But owing to the usual mode of estimating
Spanish literature in the mass, justice has not been done to that
genuine beauty which it so conspicuously discloses even in the midst of
absurdity.
II. This unjust system of criticism appears to account for the very
slight attention which has been paid to the high elegance and classic
purity of a considerable portion of the polite literature of Spain.
In this respect Cervantes alone outweighs a whole host of the correct
Gallicists, whose highest merit is to have written interesting prose in
well constructed verse. Metrical elegance is indeed a distinguishing
property in many of the most irregular productions of the Spanish
poets; this is evident in their comedies, and more particularly
in the comedies of Calderon, which present the highest charm of
rhythmical harmony. On this occasion the classic prose of the golden
age of Spanish literature ought also to be brought to recollection.
In the number of prose works distinguished for elegance of style
and intellectual energy of composition, the literature of Spain far
surpasses that of Italy.
III. The deficiency of one kind of riches in Spanish literature, is
amply compensated by the abundance of another kind, which is in a
great measure peculiar to that literature, and which has manifested
itself in an inconceivable number of works. The portion of lyric poetry
in which the Spaniards have imitated the Italian forms, tolerably
counterbalances the amount of Italian poetry in the same style. But if
to that portion be added the whole store of lyric romances and songs
in the old popular style, a multitude appears which sets calculation
at defiance. Nothing, however, could be more absurd, than to estimate
the poetic fertility of a nation according to the number of works
called poems, which it may possess. It is from the sum of genuine
poetry actually existing in any considerable number of such works,
though it should be visible only in the seed or in the bud which
has withered in the opening, that the balance must be struck when
the poetic riches of nations is the subject of comparison. If the
mere number of productions were to decide, Italy would be as rich in
dramatic literature as Spain. But in Italy, it unfortunately happened
that scarcely any writers except those of middling and even inferior
talent laboured to increase the stock of Italian dramas to infinity. In
Spanish dramatic literature, on the contrary, the most fertile writers
shew themselves to be great poets even amidst their faults. According
to the same principle the multitude of nominal epic poems, which have
appeared in Spain, and in which scarcely a feeble spark of true epopee
is discernible, must not be taken into account in estimating the poetic
treasures of Spanish literature. A single canto of Ariosto or Tasso, is
worth all the Spanish epic poetry that ever was written.
IV. Of all the poets of modern times, the Spanish can alone be regarded
as the inventors of the poetry of catholic mysticism, which they have
employed in a very ingenious, though, it must be confessed, not in an
exemplary manner. He must indeed be completely dazzled by the brilliant
side of Spanish poetry, who refuses to acknowledge that the character
of the sacred comedy is monstrous, even as it appears in the Autos of
the estimable Calderon. But, on the other hand, the affectation of
philosophic criticism must have deadened all susceptibility for that
bold style of spiritual poetry in him who denies to the Spanish Autos
the possession of beauties, which deserve to be admired. What might not
this poetry have become, had reason extended her influence over it in a
more powerful degree, not, indeed, to reduce it to the level of prose,
but to divest it of the mask of caricature, while soaring in the lofty
regions of mystic invention!
END OF VOL. I.
AND OF THE HISTORY OF SPANISH LITERATURE.
_E. Justins, Printer, 41, Brick Lane, Whitechapel._
ERRATA FOR VOL I.
Page 27, title of Book I. for _end of the sixteenth_, read
_commencement of the sixteenth century_.
43, l. 4 from the top, for _Don Juan de Manuel_, read _Don Juan
Manuel_.
51, l. 14 from the top, for _beaux tenebreux_ read _beau
tenebreux_.
100, l. 1 of the second note, for _Diez_ read _Dieze_.
102, l. 11 from the top, for _Bachellor_ read _Bachelor_.
128, last line, for _Count of Arragon_ read _Court of Arragon_.
131, l. 12 from the top, for _applies_ read _applied_.
161, last line but one of the note, for _called_ read _calls_.
165, l. 1 of the second note, for _Gottengen_ read _Göttingen_.
168, l. 1, for _changed_ read _charged_.
180, l. 5 from the top, for _ecologues_ read _eclogues_.
193, l. 18 from the top, for _Diego Mendoza_ read _Diego de
Mendoza_.
215, l. 2 from top, for _depths_ read _depth_.
218, l. 6 from the top, for _formed_ read _found_.
253, l. 7 from the bottom, for _though it even constantly_ read
_though it constantly_.
254, l. 7 from the bottom, for _Acuna_ read _Acuña_.
272, l. 13 from the top, for _belong_ read _belongs_.
303, l. 12 from the top, for _Lusiade_ read _Lusiad_.
309, l. 14 from the top, for _mankind_ read _man_.
312, l. 2 of the note, for _edition_ read _addition_.
364, 7 from the bottom, for _Span_ read _Spain_.
435, l. 7 from the top, for _title of a work_ read _title for a
work_.
448, l. 8 from the bottom of the note, for _to Marshal_ read _to
the Marshal_.
469, l. 6 from the top, for _voluntary_ read _voluntarily_.
524, l. 12 from the top, for _analize_ read _analyze_.
551, l. 8 from the top, for _Nothing poetical was at this period
produced_, read _Nothing poetical produced at this period_.
FOREIGN LITERATURE.
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with those of our own countrymen acquainted with their Literature, that
no establishment for the circulation of Books in the FOREIGN LANGUAGES,
should have been formed in this country.
If this opinion was prevalent during the late war, how must it have
gained ground latterly, owing to the gradual increase which, since
that period, Foreign Literature has been making in the number of its
votaries in this country.
With the view of supplying this _desideratum_ in Literature,
BOOSEY and SONS, (_after an experience of thirty
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In order to be supplied with all New Works of interest on their _first
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To facilitate the circulation of Books at the West End of the Town, it
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BOOSEY and SONS are desirous it should be generally
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that the impulse which Foreign Literature will receive in this country
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FOOTNOTES:
[1] This, in its turn, is only a small part of a very extensive work,
the general title of which is, _Geschichte der Künst und Wissenschaften
seit der Wiederherstellung derselben bis an das Ende des achtzenten
Jahrhunderts, von einer Gesellschaft gelehrter männer ausgearbeitet_.
(History of Arts and Learning from their restoration to the end of the
eighteenth century, by a society of learned men.) Different authors
have each taken a part in this great literary enterprize, which may
be said to form an Encyclopedia, though not on the usual plan of a
dictionary.
[2] There is also a French translation of Bouterwek’s volume on Spanish
literature, which, as far as it goes, is correct and well executed in
point of style; but notwithstanding that the translator appears to have
been capable of doing justice to the work, it is greatly mutilated. The
Portuguese volume, which is in some respects the more valuable of the
two, is not touched by the French translator.
[3] _Letters from an English Traveller in Spain, in 1778, on the Origin
and Progress of Poetry in that kingdom, London 1781._--This book was
written by _Mr. Dillon_, author of “Travels through Spain,” “History of
Peter the Cruel,” &c.
[4] Fought in the year 712.
[5] This remark, from the _Indiculo luminoso_ of Bishop Alvaro of
Cordova, is noticed in the preface to Du Cange’s Glossary, and is
repeated by Velasquez in his History of Spanish Poetry, Dieze’s
edition, page 33.--See also Eichhorn’s _Allgemeine Geschichte der
Cultur und Litteratur_, vol. i. p. 121. The details of the history of
Arabic poetry in Spain cannot be comprehended in a history of Spanish
and Portuguese poetry. The bibliographic erudition on the subject of
Arabic poetry, which Dieze has displayed in his remarks on Velasquez,
does not belong to the subject of this work.
[6] Velasquez, Dieze, and other authors, furnish information on the
history of the Biscayan language and poetry. This language, with the
poetry to which it may have given birth, has had no influence on
literature beyond its own territory, and appears to have had very
little even there.
[7] How sensibly the neglect of the Catalonian or Valencian tongue,
after the union of the kingdoms of Arragon and Castile, was felt in
the provinces which belonged to the former, may be seen from the
passage quoted by Eichhorn, in his _Allg. Gesch. der Cul. u. Litt._
vol. i. page 129, from Scuolano’s History of Valencia. But the
pleasing language of the Troubadours was doubtless very defective.
It would otherwise have been difficult to have made the Catalonian
poets so soon proselytes to the Castilian dialect, especially as,
besides the difference of language, the natural jealousy between the
Arragonian and Castilian provinces was strong enough to manifest
itself by political effects even in the eighteenth century. The
imperfection of the Troubadour phraseology may have been partly owing
to its fluctuations, and the various forms it assumed, in the several
dialects. The difference of the dialects appears particularly evident
on comparing the real PROVENÇAL of the French Troubadours
with the Valencian, called LENGUA VALLENCIANA. The dialect of
the Provençal Troubadours may, without much difficulty, be translated
by conjecture, if the reader be acquainted with French and Italian;
but the meaning of the Valencian cannot be so easily guessed at, even
with the additional knowledge of Castilian. As a proof of this, it
will be sufficient to peruse a passage of the _Libre de los Dones_,
of _Mosen_, [that is, Monsieur, instead of the Castilian Don] _Jaume_
[James] _Roig_, reprinted in Valencia, 1735, in 4to. The author is one
of the last poets who wrote in the Valencian dialect, and the whole
didactic poem, if so it may be called, is composed in short verses of
the following description:
Yo com absent
Del mon vivint,
Aquell linquint
Aconortat,
Del apartat
Dant hi del peu,
Vell jubileu
Mort civilment,
Ja per la gent
Desconegut,
Per tots tengut
Con hom selvatge
Tenint ostatge, &c. &c.
Owing to the difference of the dialects, a foreigner might, by a short
residence in Madrid, learn to express himself in Castilian with more
fluency than it is spoken by a great part of the inhabitants of the
Arragonian provinces.
[8] At least such is the opinion of Gregorio Mayans y Ziscar, given in
his work, known under the title of _Origenes de la Lengua Española_,
part i. page 8.
[9] An old prejudice attributes the forcible aspiration which the
Spanish shares in common with the German and Arabic, solely to the
mixture of the latter with the Castilian. This prejudice is pardonable
in the Spaniards, who are not aware of the influence which the German
guttural must have had over their language; but the Germans, who
know the nature of their mother tongue, ought to recollect that the
same Arabic words which are strongly aspirated by the Spaniards, are
pronounced by the Portuguese, though equally naturalized among them,
with a hissing sound. Besides, how does it happen that the G
before E and I, which is a guttural with the Germans,
has nearly the same sound with the Castilians, though it is never so
pronounced by any other people whose language appears to have risen on
the ruins of that of ancient Rome? The Germanic pronunciation of the
Visigoths, which was doubtless preserved in the mountains of Castile,
would afterwards be easily confounded with the Arabic. The Castilian
conversion of O into UE, also resembles the change
which takes place in German of O into OE. Let, for
instance, the Spanish CUERPO and PUEBLO be compared
with the German KÖRPER and PÖBEL.
[10] The Portuguese language would perhaps be less depreciated by the
Spaniards, if it did not remind them of the vulgar idiom spoken by the
Galician water-carriers in Madrid. On the contrary, the Portuguese
think the Castilian language inflated, and at the same time rough
and also affected. Both nations are as little disposed to come to an
agreement on the merits of their respective languages as the Danes and
Swedes are regarding theirs; for the Castilian and Portuguese are,
like the Danish and Swedish, only two conflicting dialects of the same
tongue. The Swedes admit that the Danish language exceeds their own
in softness, though they consider that softness disagreeable, and the
harsher Swedish more sonorous on account of the greater abundance and
fulness of its vowel sounds; thus, precisely in the same manner, do the
Spaniards condemn the softness of the Portuguese tongue. The elision
of the letter L in a great number of Portuguese words, as in
COR, PAÇO, for _color_, _palacio_, and the remarkable
change of L into R, as in _branco_, _brando_, for
_blanco_, _blando_, are peculiarities of that language to which
foreigners do not easily reconcile themselves.
[11] The first essay towards a history of the Portuguese language,
and an introduction to Portuguese orthography, were published in
Lisbon at the time when Portugal was a Spanish province.--Duarte Nunez
de Liaõ, the author of both works, was a statesman and magistrate.
(_Desembargador da Camara da Supplicaçaõ._) The former is entitled
_Origem da Lingoa Portugueza_, _Lisb._ 1606, in 8vo. It is dedicated
to Philip III. king of Spain, who is, however, on this occasion merely
addressed as _Dom Phelipe II. de Portugal_. In the preface the author
states his other, but older work, (_Orthographia da Lingoa Portugueza_,
Lisb. 1576, in 8vo.) to be the first of the kind. The Portuguese have,
however, for two centuries laboured with as little success as the
Germans, to introduce uniformity of orthography into their language.
The convertible M and AÕ appear to have been so early
selected to denote the French nasal tone which occurs in numerous final
syllables, that Nunez de Liaõ found it necessary to acquiesce in the
custom, according to which the same word might be very differently
written, as _naçaõ_ or _naçam_, _naõ_ or _nam_, pronounced nearly as
_nassaong_ and _naong_, with the French sound of _on_, _bon_. But it
surely could not have been very difficult to dispossess the totally
unnecessary and barbarous H in _hum_ and _huma_ (from the
latin _unus_ and _una_) of the place it had assumed, as it is now
banished from elegant Portuguese orthography. Trifles of this kind
present more materials for reflection than a first view gives reason
to expect. When the orthography of a country continues to be an object
of reform, that nation is deficient in a certain degree of refinement,
the attainment of which has either been missed, or the right pursuit
of which is but just commenced. Indeed what necessity is there for the
French, Italians, Spaniards and Portuguese, writing the same sound,
occurring in the same word, in four different ways, as for example,
_bataille_, _battaglia_, _batalla_, _batalha_?
[12] Nothing could be more improper than to follow Du Cange, (Glossar.
praef. § 34, sq.) in dividing the _vulgare idioma_ of the present
inhabitants of the Pyrenean Peninsula into the _Castellanum_,
_Limosinum_, and _Vasconicum_.
[13] A particular account of the Limosin poetry, even in its last
period, which is late enough to come into the division of time called
the latter ages, does not belong to the history of modern poetry. It
ought to be treated as the last part of the chivalrous poetry of the
middle ages.--See the notices in Velasquez and Dieze, p. 45, and the
still more instructive sketch of the history of Limosin poetry, in
Eichhorn’s _Gesch. der Cult. u. Litt._ vol. i. p. 123.
[14] That the Portuguese and the Galician were originally not to be
distinguished from each other, is expressly stated by that attentive
observer of the forms of his native language, Nunez de Liaõ, who says,
_As quaes ambas_, (namely, the Portuguese and the Galician tongues)
_eraõ antigamente quasi huma mesma nas palavras, e diphthongos, e
pronunciação, que as outras partes de Hespanha naõ tem_. ORIGEM DA
LINGOA PORTUGUEZA, cap. VI.
[15] Velasquez, who felt this, thought fit when he read the _Lusiade de
Camões_, to pay a particular compliment to the author, at the expense
of the Portuguese language; for, after delivering the same opinion
on that language, which is entertained by most Spaniards, he very
elegantly adds: “the muses thought otherwise when they spoke through
the mouth of Camoens.”
[16] _Cada fuente de Portugal y cada monte son Hippocrenes y
Parnassos_, says Manuel de Faria y Sousa, in his _Epitome de las
Historias Portugueses_. Father Sarmiento, a Spanish author, whom
national prejudice does not prevent from doing justice to the
Portuguese, mentions this observation in his instructive _Memorias para
la Poesia Española_.
[17] The word is used in this extensive sense by Sarmiento in his
_Memorias_, or as the book is sometimes called, _Obras posthumas_,
parte i. p. 168. Authors are far from being agreed respecting the
origin of the term _redondillas_, (according to the Portuguese
orthography _redondilhas_.) But is not the word more naturally derived
from _redondo_ (round), than from a small town called Redondo? Instead
of redondillas, these compositions are sometimes named _redondillos_,
the word _versos_ being understood. In German they might be called
_ringelverse_ (circular verses.)
[18] Shall it be said that there is, in the German language, no kind
of verse which unites to so much grace, a character so truly popular!
Let Burger’s _Nachtfeier der Venus_ be considered, before this be
determined. Even the Esthonian Serfs, on the coast of the Baltic,
chaunt their simple ballads in the same measure. Proof of this may be
seen on reference to Petri’s _Nachrichten von den Esthen_, vol. ii. p.
69.
[19] Among others, Sarmiento, who in support of this opinion,
quotes some verses from Virgil, for example: _Inter viburna
cupressi_--_Tondenti barba cadebat_, &c. These verses have, it is true,
eight syllables, but not four trochaic feet.
[20] How does it happen that none of the Spanish authors have taken
notice of the ancient songs sung by the Roman soldiers, though they
are evidently _redondillas_? Suetonius has preserved some remarkable
examples of these songs; and the same measure occurs after the decline
of latin poetry, particularly in some pious verses of Prudentius, which
are quoted by Sarmiento.
[21] After examining Arabic verses, written in the European manner, it
cannot be difficult, even for persons unacquainted with the language,
to form a sufficient idea of the influence which the monotonic rhymes
of the Moors had on the old Castilian romances. See, for example, the
following passage of the Koran:
Va sciamsi, va dhohàha,
Val Kamari eda talàha,
Van nahari, eda giallàha,
Val Laïli eda jagsciàha.
But the Spanish ear required some variety, and accordingly preferred a
predominant to a single unchanging rhyme. Thus in the romance:--
Media noche era por hilo;
Los gallos querian _cantar_
Donde Claros con amores
No podia _reposar_,
Quanto muy grandes sospiros
Que el amor se hazia _dar_, &c. &c.
[22] Such _rimas asonantes_ as occur in the words _noble_ and _pone_,
_dolor_ and _corazon_, are easily recognized. But from some old Spanish
romances, it appears that the return of the same consonants sometimes
supplies the place of an assonant rhyme; for example, when the words
_baxo_, _crucifixo_, _enojo_, &c. follow each other at short intervals.
[23] See what is stated by Sarmiento, p. 191, from an old letter of the
Marquis of Santillana, of which more particular notice must soon be
taken in this work.
[24] The Spanish and Portuguese _versos de arte mayor_ very much
resemble some of the English popular ballads, with regard to their
measure. There is, however, in the rudest of the Spanish and Portuguese
strophes of this kind, more real rhythmus, than even in the modern
popular songs of the English. An old political song, by Juan de Mena,
commences thus:--
Como, el, que duerme con la pesada,
Que quiere y no puede jamas acordar,
Mas si lo puede á la fin desechar,
Queda la mente con el desvelada, &c.
[25] Sarmiento has written at sufficient length on the origin of the
Castilian romances, but the information he gives is more copious than
satisfactory. It would require the most laborious investigation, joined
to the highest critical sagacity, to penetrate the obscurity in which
this part of the history of literature is involved. How indeed can it
be ascertained to what age a ballad belongs, the author of which is
unknown, and which, in the progressive improvement of the language and
the national taste, has been, without scruple, altered by the singers?
[26] These monuments of old Castilian rhyme were little known until
rescued from oblivion in 1775 by the publication of D. Thomas Antonio
Sanchez’s _Coleccion de Poesias Castellanas Anteriores al siglo XV._
a work which in respect to philology is certainly very meritorious.
The collection, however, appears to terminate with the third volume,
(Madrid, 1782), which contains the _Poema de Alexandra Magno_. The
first volume contains the celebrated letter of the _Marquis de
Santillana_ on the ancient Spanish poetry, which, for the first time,
is printed in that volume, with a commentary by the publisher, full of
philological learning.
[27] For example, in the following passage which Sarmiento has also
quoted; the language, too, differs less from the present Spanish in
this, than in many other parts of the work.
De los sus ojos tan fuertemente llorando,
Tornaba la cabeça, e estavalos catando.
Vio puertas abiertas, e uzos sin canados,
Alcandaras vacìas sin pieles e sin mantos
E sin falcones, e sin azores, mudados.
Sospirò mio Zid; ca mucho aviè grandes cuidados.
Fablò mio Zid bien, e tan mejorado:
Grado á ti, Señor Padre, que estas en alto.
Esto me han envuelto mìs enemigos malos, &c.
[28] He states at the beginning of the work the importance he placed on
the labour of the rhyme, which he seems to have particularly valued,
because he made four lines always rhyme together in succession:--
Mester trago fremoso, no es de juglaria,
Mester es sen pecado, ca es de clerecia.
_Fablar curso rimado por la quaderna via
Per silabas cantadas, ca es grant maestria._
[29]
El padre a vii. años metiole a leer,
Diole a maestros ornados de seso e de saber,
Los megores que pudo in Grecia escoger,
Que lo sopiessen en las vii. artes emponer
Aprend de las vii. artes cada dia licion
De todas cada dia facia disputacion, &c.
[30] Sarmiento and Sanchez may be consulted respecting those enquiries.
Some notices on the same topics are also to be found in Velasquez. Had
Berceo composed verses on temporal subjects, it is probable that the
Spanish writers would not have disputed with so much zeal on the merits
of his life. It is curious, that the pious author himself calls his
verse prose. The passage runs thus:--
Quiero far _una prosa_ in Roman paladino,
En qual suele el pueblo fablar a su vecino,
_Ca non so tan letrado a far otro latino_.
Bien valdra, como ereo, un vaso de bon vino.
[31] Having stated that he learnt his art from an Egyptian, whom he
invited from Alexandria, Alphonso adds:--
La piedra que llaman philosophal
Sabia facer, e me la enseñó,
Fizimoslo juntos, despues solo yo;
Con que muchas veces creció mi caudal.
The chemical prescriptions have a very quaint effect, as delivered in
the dancing measure of these verses, viz.
Tomad el mercurio assi como sale
De minas de tierra con limpia pureza.
Purgadlo con cueros par la su maleza,
Porque mas limpieza en esto mi cale.
E porque su peso tan solo se iguale,
Con doze onzas del dicho compuesto,
En vaso de vidro despues de ser puesto.
Otra materia en esto non vale.
This extract may also serve as an example of the rhythmical facility
displayed in the verses of Alphonso.
[32] Histoire générale des Troubadours, tom. ii. pag. 255, tom. iii.
pag. 329, &c.
[33] Sarmiento refers the oldest Castilian romances to the thirteenth
century, but only hypothetically, and with the explicit declaration,
that certainly none were to be found in the form in which they then
existed. Respecting the _Nicolas_ and the _Antonio de los Romances_,
see the notes of Dieze on Velasquez, p. 146.
[34] See the _Bibliotheca Hispana Vetus_ of Nicolas Antonio, under the
head of Alphonso XI. and Sarmiento, p. 305.
[35] A sensible and well digested biography of this prince, by Gonzalo
de Argote y Molina, a writer of the sixteenth century, is prefixed to
_El Conde Lucanor_, the first edition of which Argote superintended.
The work is not easily procured even in Spain. _No es de los mas
communes_, says Sarmiento. In the library of the university of
Göttingen there is a copy of the edition: Madrid, 1642, 4to.
[36]
Si algun bien fizieres, que chico assaz fuere,
Fazlo granado; que el bien nunca muere.
[37]
Quien te conseja encobrir de tus amigos,
Engañar te quiere assaz, y sin testigos.
[38]
No aventures mucho tu riqueza
Por consejo de ome que ha pobreza.
[39]
Quien bien see, non se lieve.
[40]
Quien te alabare con lo que non has en ti,
Sabe, que quiere relever lo que has de ti.
[41] As this work is as scarce as it is curious, to extract the whole
of the first tale will perhaps be agreeable to the reader. Fablava
un dia el Conde Lucanor con Patronio su Consejero, en esta manera.
Patronio, vos sabedes que yo soy muy caçador, y he fecho muchas
caças nuevas, que nunca fizo otro ome, y aun he fecho y añadido en
los capillos y en las piguelas algunas cosas muy aprovechosas, que
nunca fueron fechas, y aora los que quieren dezir mal de mi fablan
en escarnio en alguna manera, y quando loan al Cid Ruydias, o al
Conde Ferrand Gonzalez, de quantas lides que fizieron, o al santo y
bienaventurado Rey don Ferrando, quantas buenas conquistas fizo, loan
a mi, diziendo que fiz muy buen fecho, porque añadi aquello en los
capillos y en las piguelas. Y porque yo entiendo, que este alabamiento
mas se me torna en denuesto, que en alabamiento, ruego vos que me a
consejedes en que manera faré, porque no me escarnezcan por la buena
obra que fiz. Señor Conde, dixo Patronio, para que vos sepades lo
que vos cumple de fazer en esto, plazeme ya que sopiessedes lo que
contescio a un moro, que fue Rey de Cordova. El Conde la preguntó como
fuera aquello; Patronio le dixo assi.
Huvo en Cordova un Rey Moro, que huvo nombre Alhaquime, y como quier
que mantenia bien assaz su Reyno, no se trabajó de fazer otra cosa
honrada, nin de gran fama, de las que suelen y deven fazer los Reyes.
Ca non tan solamente son los Reyes tenudos de guardar sus Reynos, mas
los que buenos quieren ser, conviene que tales obras fagan, porque
con derecho acrecienten sus Reynos, y fagan en guisa, que en su vida
sean muy mas loados de las gentes, y despues de su muerte finqueen
buenas fazañas de las obras que ellos ovieren fecho. E este Rey non
se trabajava de esto, si non de comer, y de folgar, y de estar en su
casa vicioso; y acaescio, que estando un dia que tañian ante el un
estormento de que se pagavan mucho los moros, que há nombre Albogon,
e el Rey paró mientes, y entendio que non fazia tan buen son como
era menester, y tomó el Albogon, y añadio en el un forado a la parte
de yuso, en derecho de los otros forados, y dende en adelante fazia
el Albogon muy mejor son que fasta entonces fazia. E comoquiera que
aquello era bien fecho para en aquella cosa, pero que non era tan
gran fecho como convenia de fazer al Rey. E las gentes en manera de
escarnio començaron a loar aquel fecho, y dezian quando llamavan a
alguno en Arabigo, _Vahedezut Alhaquime_, que quiere dezir: este es
el añadimiento del Rey Alhaquime. Esta palabra fue sonada tanto por
la tierra, fasta que lo ovo de oir el Rey, y preguntó, porque dezian
las gentes aqueste palabra. E conaquier que ge lo quisieran negar y
encubrir, tanto los afincó, que ge lo ovieron a dezir. E desque esto
oyó tomó ende gran peçar, pero como era muy buen Rey, non quiso fazer
mal a los que dezian aquesta palabra, mas puso en su coraçon de facer
otro añadimiento, de que por fuerza oviessen las gentes a loar el su
fecho. E entonce porque la su mezquita de Cordova non era acabada,
añadio en ella aquel Rey toda la labor que hi menguava, y acabóla.
Y esto fue la mejor, y mas complida, y mas noble mesquita que los
moros avian en España. E loado Dios es aora Iglesia, y llamanla Santa
Maria de Cordova, y ofresciola el santo Rey don Fernando a Santa
Maria quando ganó a Cordova de los Moros. E desque aquel Rey ovo
acabado la mesquita, y fecho aquel tan buen añadimiento, dixo, que
pues fasta entonces lo avian a escarnio, retrayendole del añadimiento
que fiziera en el Albogon, que tenia que de alli adelante le avrian a
loar con razon del añadimiento que fiziera en la mezquita de Cordova,
y fue despues muy loado: y el loamiento que fasta entonces le fazian
escarnesciendole, fincò despues por loa, y oy dia dizen los Moros
quando quieren loar algun buen hecho:--Este es el añadimiento del Rey
Alhaquime. E vos, Señor Conde, si tomades pesar, o cuidades que vos
loan por escarnescer del añadimiento, que fezistes en los capillos, y
en las piguelas, y en las otras cosas de caça que vos fezistes, guisad
de fazer algunos fechos granados e nobles que les pertenesce de facer
a los grandes omes. E por fuerça las gentes avran de loar los vuestros
buenos fechos, assi como loan aora por escarnio en el añadimiento que
fezistes de la caça. E el Conde tovo este por buen consejo y fizolo
assí, e fallose dello muy bien. E porque don Juan entendio que esta era
buen exemplo, fizolo escrivir en este libro, y fizo estos versos, que
dizen assi:
Si algun bien fizieres, que chico asaz fuere,
Fazlo granado, que el bien nunca muere.
[42] Thus in the first stories the old word _ome_ stands for _hombre_;
but in those towards the end of the collection it is changed to
_hombre_.
[43] Argote y Molina enumerates the prose works of this prince in the
before-mentioned biography. He notices the poems in an appendix to
his edition of _El Conde Lucanor_, entitled _Discurso sobre la poesia
Española_. Though the appendix occupies only a few pages, it contains
many interesting observations.
[44] The following romance, which is inserted without interpunctuation,
as it appears in the original, may serve for a specimen of those to
which the name of Don Juan Manuel is attached. It is certainly not the
worst of its kind; and must have found its way by some lucky accident
into the _Cancionero general_, which contains scarcely any narrative
romances. It is also found in another _Cancionero de Romances_, under
the title of _Romance de Don Juan Manuel_.
Gritando va el cavallero
publicando su gran mal
vestidas ropas de luto
aforrados en sayal
por los montes sin camino
con dolor y sospirar
llorando a pie descalço
jurando de no tornar
adonde viesse mugeres
por nunca se consolar
con otro nuevo cuydado
que le hiziesse olividar
la memoria de sua amiga
que murio sin la gozar
va buscar las tierras solas
para en ellas habitar
en una montaña espesa
no cercana de lugar
hizo casa de tristura
qu’es dolor de la nombrar
d’una madera amarilla
que llaman desesperar
paredes de canto negro
y tambien negra la cal
las tejas puso leonadas
sobre tablas de besar
el suelo hizo de plomo
porque es pardillo metal
las puertas chapadas dello
por su trabajo mostrar
y sembro por cima el suelo
secas hojas deparral
cado no se esperan bienes
esperança no ha destar
en aquesta casa escura
que hizo para penar
haze mas estrecha vida
que los frayles del paular
que duermen sobre sarmientos
y aquellos son su maniar
lo que llora es lo que beve
aquello torna a llorar
no mas d’una vez al dia
por mas se debilitar
del color de la madera
mando una pared pintar
un dosel de blanca seda
en ella mando parar
y de muy blanco alabastro
hizo labrar un altar
con canfora betumado
de raso blanco el frontal
puso el bulto de su amiga
en el para le adorar
el cuerpo de plata fina
el rostro era de cristal
un brial vestido blanco
de damasco singular
mongil de blanco brocado
forrado en blanco cendal
sembrado de lunas llenas
señal de casta final
en la cabeça le puso
una corona real
guarnecida de castañas
cogidas del castañal
lo que dize la castaña
es cosa muy de notar
las cinco letras primeras
el nombre de la sin par
murio de veynte y dos años
por mas lastima dexar
la su gentil hermosura
quien quel sepa loar
qu’es mayor que la tristura
del que la mando pintar
en lo qu’ el passa su vida
es en la siempre mirar
cerro la puerta al plazer
abrio la puerta al pesar
abrio la para quedarse
pero no para tornar.
All the songs attributed to Don Juan Manuel in the _Cancionera_ have a
form and structure, which render it probable that they belong to the
age in which _El Conde Lucanor_ was written; one, for example, begins
thus:
Quien por bien servir alcanza
Vivir triste y desamado,
Este tal
Deve tener confianza,
Que le traera este cuydado
A mayor mal.
Another which belongs to the class, called _Villancios_ possesses more
poetical merit. It commences thus:--
Muerto es ya, muerto, Señora,
El triste que en ley de Amor
Era vuestro servitor.
La muerte pudo matalle,
Pues le distes ocasion,
Pero no pudo quitalle
De teneros aficion.
O pena sin redemcion,
Que pena el triste amador
En los infiernos de Amor.
[45] Sarmiento only briefly notices this arch-priest, and Nicolas
Antonio has entirely overlooked him. But Velasquez pays particular
attention to him, and gives a long extract from his work.
[46] As a specimen by which justice will be done the author, it
is sufficient to quote the following passage, which is printed by
Velasquez. Don Amor says:--
Entrada de quaresma viume para Toledo;
Cuidé estar vicioso, plasentero e ledo.
Fallé y gran santiadad, e fisome estar quedo.
Pocos me recibieron, niu me ficieron del dedo.
Estaba en un palacio pintado de Almagra.
Vino a me mucho Dueña de mucho aguno magra
Con muchos paternostres e con oracion agra, &c.
[47] The celebrated letter of the Marquis de Santillana, which must
be more particularly noticed hereafter, contributes its part in
illustrating the history of this period. Much however is not to be
learned from the letter itself. The commentary on it by Sanchez, in
the first volume of the before-mentioned _Coleccion_, is far more
instructive.
[48] Whoever wishes to become acquainted with the controversies on the
early literature of knight-errantry, should resort to Nicolas Antonio,
and compare what he says with Eichhorn’s learned view of the subject,
including the necessary references, in his Allg. Gesch. der Cult. u.
Litt. Theil I. p. 136, &c. Nunez de Liaõ, in his _Origem de Lingoa
Portugueza_, also mentions Lobeira as the author of _Amadis de Gaul_.
[49] The merit of the Amadis was not overlooked by Cervantes. In the
judgment passed on Don Quixote’s library, the Curate wishes to condemn
this work first of all to the flames, because, being the parent of all
the books of knight-errantry in Spain, it was therefore the great cause
of Don Quixote’s malady; but the Barber, or rather Cervantes, speaking
in that character, says, “No, friend; for I have heard it remarked
that the Amadis is the _best book_ of the kind ever written; it ought
therefore to be spared as a _peculiar specimen_ of art.” Whoever may
be desirous of making the Amadis re-appear in a state capable of being
relished in the present times, must, above all things, take care to
preserve the ingenuous simplicity of the stile, or the work will be
wholly disfigured.
[50] The titles of all the collections of romances need not be given
here. A considerable part of them may be found in Velasquez, with
additions by Dieze, (p. 442, &c.) and Blankenburg’s Zusätzen zu
Sulzer’s Wörterbuche. I have before me several collections, which
contain some of the oldest romances I am acquainted with. The best of
these collections is entitled: _Cancionero de Romances, en que estan
recopilados la mayor parte de los Romances Castellanos, que hasta agora
se han compuesto._ Nuevamento corregido _y añadido en muchos partes.
Anvers_ 1555, 8vo. In the well known _Romancero general_ none of the
pieces which derive their materials from knight-errantry romances are
to be found.
[51] The following romance, derived from that work, gives an artless
description of the sufferings of Amadis on the barren rock.
En la selva esta Amadis
el _leal enamorado_
tal vida estava haziendo
qual nunca hizo Christiano
cilicio trae vestido
a sus carnes apretado
con diciplinas destruye
su cuerpo muy delicado
llagado de las heridas
y en su señora pensando
no ce canoce en su gesto
segun lo trae delgado
de ayunos y d’abstinencias
andava debilitado
la barva trae crecida
deste mundo se ha apartado
las rodillas tiene en tierra
y en su coraçon echado
con gran humildad os pide
perdon si avia errado
al alto dios poderoso
por testigo ha publicado
y acordado se le avia
del amor suyo passado
que assi le derribo
de su sentido y estado
con estas grandes passiones
amortecido ha quedado
el mas leal amador
que en el mundo fue hallado.
[52] According to Sarmiento (p. 228,) it is usual to say, _Este no vale
las coplas de Calainos_. But it is not therefore to be inferred, that
the ancient romance of that name is the worst of the kind.
[53] It will be sufficient to cite, in support of this opinion, the
romance of the _Conde Alarcos_, which is, besides, distinguished from
most of the other romances by greater richness of composition. It opens
in a very simple manner with a description of the sorrow of the Infante
Solesa, who, after being secretly betrothed to Count Alarcos, has been
abandoned by him.
Retraida està la Infanta
Bien assi como salia,
Viviendo muy descontenta
De la vida que tenia,
Vienda ya que se pasava
Toda la flor de su vida.
The fair Infanta midst the court
A look of sorrow wears,
Told by an aching heart how she
Is doom’d to pass her years;
For far from her is ever flown
The early bloom of life----
At length, after Count Alarcos has been long married, the forsaken
princess discloses her seduction to her father. This scene is strongly
painted, but not overcharged: the king is transported by rage and
indignation; his honour appears to him so wounded, that nothing but
the death of the Countess can be a sufficient satisfaction. He has an
interview with the Count, addresses him courteously, represents the
case to him with chivalrous dignity as a point of justice and honour,
and concludes by categorically demanding the death of his lady. Thus
the developement of the story commences in a manner, which, though most
singular, is perhaps not unnatural, when the ideas of the age to which
the composition belongs are considered. The Count conceives himself
bound as a man of honour to give the king the satisfaction he desires.
He promises to comply with his demand, and proceeds on his way home.
There is a touching simplicity in the picture which is here drawn.
Llorando se parte el Conde,
Llorando, sin alegria,
Llorando a la Condessa,
Que mas que a sì la queria.
Lloraba tambien el Conde
Por tres hijos que tenia,
El una era de teta,
Que la Condessa lo cria,
Que no queria mamar
De tres amas, que tenia,
Sino era de su madre.
Weeping he homeward wends his way,
His grief nought can remove,
Because his tears are shed for her
He more than life doth love.
He weepeth too for his three sons,
In youth and beauty dear;
The youngest boy a suckling still,
The Countess’ self doth rear.
For, save his mother, none he lov’d,
Though he had nurses three,
Nor by the milk of other breasts
Would alimented be.
The pathetic interest now rises gradually to the highest pitch of
tragic horror. The Countess, who receives her husband with the wonted
marks of affection, in vain enquires the cause of his melancholy. He
sits down to supper with his family, and again we have a situation
painted with genuine feeling, though with little art.
Sentose el Conde a la mesa,
No cenava, ni podia,
Con sus hijos al costado,
Que muy mucho los queria.
Echo se sobre los hombros,
Hizo, como se dormia,
De lagrimas de sus ojos
Toda la mesa cubria.
The board is laid, he takes his place,
Where viands tempt in vain,
For near him his lov’d children are,
Now lov’d, alas! with pain.
In seeming sleep with head reclin’d,
He tries to hide his woe;
But from his eyes the big tears roll,
And o’er the table flow.
The apparent fatigue of the Count induces the Countess to accompany him
to his apartment. When they enter, the Count fastens the door, relates
what has passed, and desires his lady to prepare for death.
De morir aveis, Condessa,
Antes que amenesca el dia.
O Countess, thou art doom’d to die,
Before the morning’s dawn.
She begs him to spare her only for her children’s sake. The Count
desires her to embrace for the last time the youngest, whom she has
brought with her into the room asleep in her arms.
Abrazad este chiquito,
Que aquesto es el que os perdia.
Peso me de vos, Condessa,
Quanta pesar me podia.
Give to that babe one parting kiss,
That babe for whom thou’rt lost;
Beshrew me--but I pity thee--
I who need pity most.
She submits to her hard fate, and only asks for time to say an _ave
maria_. The Count desires her to be quick. She falls on her knees, and
pours forth a brief but fervent prayer; she then requests a few moments
more delay, that she may once more give suck to her infant son. What
modern poet would have thought of introducing so exquisite a touch of
nature? The Count forbids her to wake the child. The unfortunate lady
forgives her husband, but predicts that, within thirty days, the king
and his daughter will be summoned before the tribunal of the Almighty.
The Count strangles her.
Echole por la garganta
Una toca que tenia,
Apreto con los dos manos,
Con la fuerza que podia.
No le afloxo la garganta,
Mentre que vida tenia.
In the conclusion, the fulfilment of the unfortunate Countess’s
prophecy is briefly related. On the twelfth day the princess died, on
the twentieth the king, and on the thirtieth the Count himself expired.
[54] Those in the _Cancionero de Romances_ are of this kind. (See the
remark, p. 35.)
[55] Sarmiento counted one hundred and two romances relative to
the Cid, in one collection. Only some of them are inserted in the
_Romancero general_, interspersed among others.
[56] In the following romance, for instance, the assonance is very
skilfully managed.
Fizo hazer al Rey Alfonso
el Cid un solene juro,
delante de muchos Grandes,
que se hallaron en Burgos.
Mandò que con el viniessen
doze cavalleros juntos,
para que con el jurassen,
cada qual uno por uno.
Por la muerte de su Rey,
que le mataron seguro,
en el cerco de Zamora,
a traycion junto del muro.
Y quando en el templo santo
estuvieron todos juntos
levantose de su escaño,
y el Cid aquesto propuso.
Por aquesta santa casa
donde estamos en de ayuso,
que fabledes la verdad,
de aquesto que aqui os pregunto.
Si fuystes vos Rey la causa,
o de los vuestros alguno,
en la muerte de don Sancho
tengays la muerto que tuvo!
Todos responden Amen,
mas el Rey quedò confuso,
pero por cumplir el voto,
respondio, la mismo juro.
Y con la rodilla en tierra
por fazer su cortes uso,
el Cid delante del Rey,
assi le fablò sañudo.
Si ayer no os besa la mano,
sabed Rey que non me plugo,
y si aora os la besare
será de mí grado, y gusto.
Aquesto que aqui he fablado
no ha fecho agravio a ninguno,
porque lo devo a don Sancho
como buen vassallo suyo.
Pero sino lo fiziera
que dara yo por injusto,
y no por buen cavallero,
me tuvieran en el mundo.
Y si ha parecido mal
a los de vuesso consulto,
en el campo los aguardo,
con mi espada, y lança en puño.
[57] Of this kind is the following romance, in which the Cid takes
leave of Ximena. It is obviously one of the more modern.
Al arma, al arma sonavan
los pifaros y atambores,
guerra, fuego, sangre dizen
sus espantosos clamores:
el Cid apresta su gente,
todos se ponen en orden
quando llorosa y humilde,
le dize Ximena Gomez:
Rey de mi alma, y desta tierra Conde,
porque me dexas? donde vas, a donde?
Que sì eres marte en la guerra,
eres Apolo en la Corte,
donde matas bellas damas,
como alla Moros feroces.
Ante tus ojos se postran,
y de rodillas se ponen
los Reyes Moros, y hijas,
de Reyes Christianos nobles,
Rey de mi alma, &c.
Ya truecan todos los guerras,
por luzidos morriones,
por arneses de Milan,
los blandos pechos de Londres,
las calças por duras grevas,
por mallas guantas de flores:
mas nos otros trocaremos
las almas y coraçones.
Rey de mi alma, &c.
Viendo las duras querellas,
de su querida consorte,
no puede sufrir el Cid,
que no la consuele y llore.
Enxugad señora, dize,
los ojos hasta que torne:
ella mirando los suyos,
supena publica a vozes.
Rey de mi alma, &c.
[58] A zealous orthodox author speaks with much warmth on this subject
in a romance which commences, “Tanta Zayda, y Adalifa.” Among other
things he says:
Renegaron a su ley
Los romancistes de España,
Y ofrecieron a Mahoma
Los primicios de sus gracias.
[59]
Cabelleros Granadinos,
Aunque moros, hijos d’álgo.
[60]