1601-1687.
We draw to a close. Misrule and oppression had their inevitable results,
crushing and destroying the spirit and intellect of Spain; and after, by
an extraordinary harvest of writers, the soil had shown what it could
do, it became waste and barren. For a long time, the purists, the
Gongorists, the partisans of a glittering and false style, exerted their
influence. A critic and poet of eminence, Luzan, exerted himself to
restore Spanish poetry. He succeeded in exploding the false taste; and
Moratin, the author of some excellent dramas, followed in his steps:
but, latterly, the state of the country has been too distracted for
literature to gain any attention.
Before we close the series of Spanish Lives, however, one more is to be
added, and it is that of the greatest poet of Spain. Little, very
little, however, is known of him. We regret that we have not fuller
accounts of Cervantes. We search the voluminous works of Lope de Vega to
acquire knowledge of his character and of the events of his life; while
the career of one far greater than he, and, as a poet, infinitely
superior to Cervantes himself, is wrapped in such obscurity that we can
discern only its bare outline, and no one has endeavoured to fill up the
sketch, nor by seeking for letters and other documents, to give us a
fuller, and as it were coloured picture, of what Calderon was. This
partly arises from the prosperity of his life: adversity presents
objects that catch the attention and demand research: an even course of
happiness, like a campaign country, eludes description. The only
account we have of him proceeds from a friend[122], who commences with
blowing a trumpet, as if he were going to tell us much. "How can his
limited powers," he says, "describe him who occupies all the tongues of
fame? and ill will a short epilogue befit the man whose merits endless
ages cannot limit." And then he goes on to tell us that "his swift pen
shall comprise a brief sigh in a long regret, and raise an honourable
tomb to his sacred ashes; adopting for the purpose one of the many pens
which his fame furnishes, until others better cut than his shall publish
eulogies worthy of his name."
Don Pedro Calderon de la Barca was born in 1601[123]; thus coming into
the world of poetry at the moment when the plays of Lope de Vega were in
vogue, and when Cervantes was calling the attention of mankind to his
immortal work. His biographer takes the pains to preserve the
intelligence that he wept before he was born; "thus to enter the world
enshadowed by gloom, which he, like a new sun, was to fill with joy."
And he tells us that he collected "this important information from Donna
Dorotea Calderon de la Barca, his sister, a nun in the royal convent of
St. Clara at Toledo." The family of Calderon was illustrious, and
enjoyed an ancient hidalgoship (or _solar_) in the valley of Carriedo
among the mountains of Burgos; the very place, we may observe, where
Lope de Vega's ancestors resided, and whence his father emigrated, when,
driven by straitened means, he removed to Madrid. The family of Calderon
had migrated many years before, and were settled at Toledo. His mother's
name was Donna Ana Maria de Henao y Riaña, and her origin was derived
from an ancient family in the Low Countries, descended from the Seigneur
de Mons, and which had been settled in Spain for many years.
His childhood was spent under the paternal roof, and even as a hoy he
was conspicuous for his intelligence and acquirements. At the age of
fourteen he entered the university of Salamanca. He remained there for
five years, and rendered himself conspicuous by his ardour for study,
and by the progress he made in the most abstruse and difficult sciences.
Already also had he begun to write plays, which were acted with applause
in several Spanish theatres.
[Sidenote: 1620.
Ætat.
19.]
At the age of nineteen he left Salamanca. These dates are given us, but
the intermediate spaces are unfilled up. We are not told whether he
resided at Madrid or with his family at Toledo. His fame became
established as a poet, and began to rival that of Lope, whom indeed he
far transcended in the higher gifts of poetry, creative imagination,
sublimity, and force.
[Sidenote: 1626.
Ætat.
25.]
At the age of five and twenty he entered the military service, and
served his king first in the Milanese and afterwards in Flanders, the
old fields of war for Spain, whereon had fought and fallen so many
heroes of both countries, and so many human beings had fallen victims to
religious and political persecution. He spent ten years in this manner.
Sismondi says, that his life is sprinkled with few events. How do we
know this? Throughout these campaigns, during these years of youthful
ardour and enterprise, how much may have occurred, what dangers he may
have run--what generosity, what valour he may have displayed--how warmly
he may have loved, how deeply have suffered! As a poet and a master of
the passions he must have felt them all. But a blank meets us when we
seek to know more of these things. A poet's life is ever a romance. That
Calderon's was such we cannot doubt; but we must find its traces in the
loves, the woes, the courage, and the joys of his dramatic personages:
he infused his soul into these; what the events might be that called
forth his own personal interest and sympathy we are totally ignorant.
[Sidenote: 1637.
Ætat.
36.]
An order from his sovereign recalled him to court. Philip IV. was
passionately fond of the theatre, and himself wrote plays. Innumerable
dramas appeared under his patronage, the names of the authors being
utterly unknown; and even of those of acknowledged writers few have been
collected and published under the name of their author. Single plays, in
pamphlets, we find in plenty, all very similar the one to the other; a
better arrangement in the plot, more or less poetry or spirit in the
dialogue, being almost all the difference we find among them. Several of
the most entertaining are given forth as by a Wit of the Court (_un
Ingenio de esta Corte_), and attributed to Philip IV. himself; though
this honour has been disputed him. Moreto also, the gayest and most
comic of the Spanish dramatists, flourished at this time. Lope was dead;
but his place was filled up, not by one, but by many, who, under royal
patronage, were eager to pay the tribute of a play to the theatre of
Spain.
Philip IV. saw Calderon's dramas represented. He perceived their merit,
and thought he might serve his king much better by residing in Spain and
writing for the theatre, than by bearing arms in Flanders, where there
were so many men who could not write plays, much more fit to be knocked
on the head. He summoned Calderon to court, by a royal order, for the
sake of writing a drama for a palace festival; bestowed on him also the
habit of Santiago, and excusing him his military duties commanded him,
instead, to furnish a play. Calderon wrote the "Certamen de Amor" (the
Combat of Love), and "Zelos" (Jealousy), which were acted at the palace
of Buen-Retiro. Calderon wrote as he was commanded; but, unwilling to
leave the army, he obtained a commission in the company of the
count-duke of Olivarez, which he followed to Catalonia, and remained
till the peace, when he returned to court; when the king conferred on
him the pay of thirty crowns a month in the artillery.
[Sidenote: 1650.
Ætat.
49.]
On another occasion, while staying in the country with the duke of Alva,
the king sent for him to celebrate the festivals that occurred on his
marriage with Maria Ana of Austria.
At the age of fifty-one he quitted the military career, to which for
many years he had been passionately attached, and, being ordained, he
became a priest. The king, who always favoured him, made him chaplain of
a royal chapel at Toledo, of which he took possession on the 19th of
June of the same year.
[Sidenote: 1654.
Ætat.
53.]
But the king, dissatisfied with his distance from court, and his
consequent inability to assist properly at the royal feasts, gave him a
royal chaplaincy, and recalled him to Madrid; bestowing on him besides a
pension, derived from the revenues of Sicily, besides other presents and
rewards, the ever-renewing recompence of his labours. Calderon now wrote
a play at each celebration of the king's birth-day, not only for Madrid,
but for Toledo, Seville, and Granada. As he advanced in age, he obtained
other church preferments.
[Sidenote: 1687.
Ætat.
86.]
He died on the 29th of May, 1687, at the age of eighty-six. He left the
congregation of St. Peter heir to all he possessed.
In describing his character, his biographer indulges in Spanish
hyperbole instead of original traits. He calls him the oracle of the
court, the envy of strangers, the father of the Muses, the lynx of
learning, the light of the drama. He adds, that his house was ever the
shelter of the needy; that his modesty and humility were excessive;
attentive in his courtesy; a sure friend, and a good man.
Calderon never collected nor published his plays. The duke of Veragua at
one time addressed him a flattering letter, requesting to be furnished
with a complete list of his dramas, as the booksellers were in the habit
of selling the works of other writers under his name. Calderon, who was
then in his eightieth year, supplied the duke with a list only of "Autos
Sacramentales." He added, in a letter, that with regard to his temporal
dramas, of which he had written an hundred and eleven, he felt offended,
that in addition to his own faulty works, those of other authors should
be ascribed to him; and besides that his writings were so altered, that
he himself could not recognise even their titles. He also expressed his
determination of following the example of the booksellers, and to pay as
little regard to his plays as they did. He observed, that on religious
grounds, he attached more importance to his "Autos."
Several collections of Calderon's plays appeared during his life; one of
them being edited by his brother, and another by his friend and
biographer, Don Juan de Vera Tassis y Villarroel, who published a hundred
and twenty-seven plays, and ninety-five autos; but it is doubted whether
all these are really his. This doubt, of course, appertains to the more
mediocre ones. In the best, the stamp of Calderon's original genius
cannot be doubted.
Bouterwek and Sismondi have both entered into considerable detail with
regard to Calderon's plays, but we have no space to indulge in a similar
analysis, although, with our admiration for this great poet, we should
be glad to enter with minute detail on his merits; but we must confine
ourselves to some description of his characteristics.
Schlegel is an enthusiastic admirer of Calderon; and his observations on
his works are replete with truth. Other writers--among them the author
of an article on the Spanish theatre, in the twenty-fifth volume of the
"Quarterly Review"--are less willing to attribute high merit to him. We
confess that our opinion more nearly coincides with Schlegel. He carries
too far, we allow, his theory of the ideal of Calderon's morality,
piety, and honour. It is true, that these are too deeply founded on the
bigotry and falsehood of inquisitorial faith, and a false point of
honour; but with all this, within the circle which his sentiments and
belief prescribe, he is a master of the passions and the imagination.
There is a wild and lofty aim in all his more romantic plays, which put
barely down, despoiled of the working of the passions and the magic of
poetry, seems monstrous, but which, however different from our notions
of the present day, strike a chord that vibrates to the depth of the
heart. We may give as an instance, that supernatural machinery is
introduced into very many of Calderon's plays; and Shakespear himself
cannot manage the agency of the spiritual world as Calderon has done. He
enlists a sort of belief on his side, which it is difficult to describe,
but impossible to withstand. It is not a mere ghost that walks the
earth, but an embodying, at the same time, of the conscience and fears
of the person thus visited. Thus in the "Purgatory of St. Patrick:"
Ludovico Ennio, the villain of the piece, has for many years resolved to
assassinate an enemy. He has travelled through many countries,
nourishing the idea of vengeance, and returns to Ireland resolved to
accomplish it. He wraps himself in his mantle, and thus disguised, he
goes for three successive nights to the street where his enemy lives,
resolved to stab him: but, at the moment that he fancies that he shall
attain his aim, he is met by a man similarly disguised
(_embozado_--muffled up in a cloak) who calls to him; but when he
follows, the _embozado_ disappears so quickly, it seems as if the wind
were in his feet. Ludovico enraged, on the fourth night lays in wait
again, and takes his servant with him, that the disguised intruder may
not escape. He arrives again at the street, resolved on the death of his
enemy. At this moment the cloak-wrapped figure appears before him.
Exasperated by his appearance, he declares that he will take two
vengeances; one on his ancient enemy, the other on the intruder: the
figure calls him by his name, and bids him follow. Ludovico draws on
him, but pierces only the empty air; at once astonished and indignant,
he still pursues till they come to a desert place, when Ludovico
exclaims, "Here we are, body to body, alone, but my sword cannot injure
thee: tell me, then, who thou art; art thou a man, a vision, or a
dæmon! You answer not--then thus I dare throw off your mantle!" But,
hidden by the cloak is a skeleton only; and aghast with terror, he
exclaims, "Great God! what dreadful spectacle is this! Horrible
vision!--Mortal terror! what art thou--stark corse--that crumbled into
earth and dust, yet live? The figure replies, "Knowrest thou not
thyself?--I am thy portraiture--I am Ludovico Ennio!" These words, this
fearful sight, awaken horror and remorse in the criminal's mind; his
heart perceives the truths and how his crimes, indeed, had made him but
an image of death itself. He is thus prepared for the purgatory where
his sins are to be expiated. Many of the plays thus turn upon visions,
portions of the mind itself personified; while, at the same time, the
affections and the passions find a voice all truth and poetry, that
charms, agitates, and interests.
His autos are conceived in the same spirit. It is true, there is too
much theological disquisition and doctrine in them, and that "God the
Father plays the school-divine;" but, on the other hand, the poet often
appears to open a new world before us, which we view tremblingly at
first, till he leads us on by that mastery of the human imagination
which he possesses--knowing so well what it can believe, and what it
cannot disbelieve--and thus bringing heaven and hell palpably and
feelingly before us. The auto of "Life is a dream." (_La Vida es
Sueño_) more than any other, is an instance of that peculiarity, which
we imperfectly endeavour to describe, of clothing in sensible and potent
imagery, the thoughts of the brain, the feelings of the heart. Yet this
is not done in the German style. The Germans subtilise, mystify, and
cloud the real and distinct: they dissolve flesh and blood into a dream.
Calderon, on the contrary, turns a dream into flesh and blood: he gives
a pulse to a skeleton; he breathes passion from the lips of ghosts and
spectres. Which is the greater power, others must decide. The influence
of Calderon is greatest to us; he is master of a spell to which our
souls own obedience.
Calderon, as a poet, is diffuse and exaggerated at times, but he is
highly imaginative; and as he gives human sympathies to the impalpable
and visionary, so does he inform the visible universe with a soul of
beauty and feeling. A poet alone could translate Calderon. The only
translation we have, is a few scenes from the "Magico Prodigioso" by
Shelley. These breathe at once the Spaniard's peculiarities--his
fantastic machinery--his incomparable sweetness. Justina is one of the
most beautiful of his creations; a maiden, vowed to chastity, who being
in vain tempted by the love of many admirers, is assailed by the
seductions of hell itself. Nature--the birds, the leaves, and wandering
clouds, breathe of love, and endeavour to soften and corrupt her
heart.[124] The "Principe Costante" (the Constant Prince) seems to be
the most popular of Calderon's plays with his critics. "La Vida es
Sueño" (Life is a Dream)--not the auto, but the play--is another, full
of wild strange interest, original and sublime. "The Schism of England"
is among the most striking of his plays. One passage, where a cavalier
describes how he fell in love with Anna Bullen, is fraught with touching
sweetness and tender deep-felt passion.
Calderon is, besides, a great master of comedy. His "Gracioso" (or
Clown), is different from Lope's--more poetic and fanciful, more
vivacious and humorous. In the "Señora y la Criada" (the Lady and her
Maid), where a country girl is carried off in mistake for her mistress,
there is a comic mistake, most amusingly wrought.
It will be seen that we consider that, while Schlegel refines too much
upon the perfection of the art and the sublimity of the moral of the
poet, we think that the critic of the Quarterly Review rates his merits
at too low a standard. We do not agree that he "cannot admit us within
the gates of horror and thrilling fear." On the contrary, we think that
much of his power results from his mastery over these emotions. We can
scarcely allow that "the sacred source of sympathetic flows not at his
command." The simply pathetic is certainly not his characteristic; but
the tears may start forth in sympathy for the grandeur of soul exhibited
by the Constant Prince; the heart be charmed and interested by the
sweetness of Justina, and he touched by the fatherly sorrows of David,
in "Los Cabellos de Absolom."
Calderon is much more readable, much more interesting than Lope. He
rises higher. It is not only complexity of plot, endless variety of
situations, and well sustained dialogue, there is interest of a higher
kind; and, though it is true that perfect harmony is wanting in his
compositions, and that he riots too much "without constraint or
control," yet the colours of his poetry are so bright, and the music of
his verse so grand and enthralling, that we feel as we read that he is
one of the master geniuses of the world.
[Footnote 122: Fama Vida y Escritos de Don Pedro Calderon de la Barca
por Don Juan de Vera Tassis y Villarroel.]
[Footnote 123: Bouterwek and Sismondi give 1600 as the date of
Calderon's birth.--His Spanish biographer mentions 1601.]
[Footnote 124: Shelley's Posthumous Poems.--Translations. There is a
beautiful passage, drawn from the "Purgatorio de San Patricio,"
introduced into this author's tragedy of the Cenci.]