CHAPTER XI.
Cervantes neglected. — At Seville. — His Failure. — Asks Employment in America. — At Valladolid. — His Troubles. — Publishes the First Part of Don Quixote. — He removes to Madrid. — His Life there. — His Relations with Lope de Vega. — His Tales and their Character. — His Journey to Parnassus, and Defence of his Dramas. — Publishes his Plays and Entremeses. — Their Character. — Second Part of Don Quixote. — His Death.
The low condition of the theatre in his time was a serious misfortune to Cervantes. It prevented him from obtaining, as a dramatic author, a suitable remuneration for his efforts, even though they were, as he tells us, successful in winning public favor. If we add to this, that he was now married, that one of his sisters was dependent on him, and that he was maimed in his person and a neglected man, it will not seem remarkable, that, after struggling on for three years at Esquivias and Madrid, he found himself obliged to seek elsewhere the means of subsistence. In 1588, therefore, he went to Seville, then the great mart for the vast wealth coming in from America, and, as he afterwards called it, “a shelter for the poor and a refuge for the unfortunate.”[123] There he acted for some time as one of the agents of Antonio de Guevara, a royal commissary for the American fleets, and afterwards as a collector of moneys due to the government and to private individuals; an humble condition, certainly, and full of cares, but still one that gave him the bread he had vainly sought in other pursuits.
The chief advantage, perhaps, of these employments to a genius like that of Cervantes was, that they led him to travel much for ten years in different parts of Andalusia and Granada, and made him familiar with life and manners in these picturesque parts of his native country. During the latter portion of the time, indeed, partly owing to the failure of a person to whose care he had intrusted some of the moneys he had received, and partly, it is to be feared, owing to his own negligence, he became indebted to the government, and was imprisoned at Seville, as a defaulter, for a sum so small, that it seems to mark a more severe degree of poverty than he had yet suffered. After a strong application to the government, he was released from prison under an order of December 1, 1597, when he had been confined, apparently, about three months; but the claims of the public treasury on him were not adjusted in 1608, nor do we know what was the final result of his improvidence in relation to them, except that he does not seem to have been molested on the subject after that date.
During his residence at Seville, which, with some interruptions, extended from 1588 to 1598, or perhaps somewhat longer, Cervantes made an ineffectual application to the king for an appointment in America; setting forth by exact documents—which now constitute the most valuable materials for his biography—a general account of his adventures, services, and sufferings while a soldier in the Levant, and of the miseries of his life while he was a slave in Algiers.[124] This was in 1590. But no other than a formal answer seems ever to have been returned to the application; and the whole affair only leaves us to infer the severity of that distress which should induce him to seek relief in exile to a colony of which he has elsewhere spoken as the great resort of rogues.[125]
As an author, his residence at Seville has left few distinct traces of him. In 1595, he sent some trifling verses to Saragossa, which gained one of the prizes offered at the canonization of San Jacinto;[126] in 1596, he wrote a sonnet in ridicule of a great display of courage made in Andalusia after all danger was over and the English had evacuated Cadiz, which, under Essex, Elizabeth’s favorite, they had for a short time occupied;[127] and in 1598, he wrote another sonnet, in ridicule of an unseemly uproar that took place in the cathedral at Seville, from a pitiful jealousy between the municipality and the Inquisition, on occasion of the religious ceremonies observed there after the death of Philip the Second.[128] But except these trifles, we know of nothing that he wrote, during this active period of his life, unless we are to assign to it some of his tales, which, like the “Española Inglesa,” are connected with known contemporary events, or, like “Rinconete y Cortadillo,” savor so much of the manners of Seville, that it seems as if they could have been written nowhere else.
Of the next period of his life,—and it is the important one immediately preceding the publication of the First Part of Don Quixote,—we know even less than of the last. A uniform tradition, however, declares that he was employed by the Grand Prior of the Order of Saint John in La Mancha to collect rents due to his monastery in the village of Argamasilla; that he went there on this humble agency and made the attempt, but that the debtors refused payment, and, after persecuting him in different ways, ended by throwing him into prison, where, in a spirit of indignation, he began to write the Don Quixote, making his hero a native of the village that treated him so ill, and laying the scene of most of the knight’s earlier adventures in La Mancha. But though this is possible, and even probable, we have no direct proof of it. Cervantes says, indeed, in his Preface to the First Part, that his Don Quixote was begun in a prison;[129] but this may refer to his earlier imprisonment at Seville, or his subsequent one at Valladolid. All that is certain, therefore, is, that he had friends and relations in La Mancha; that, at some period of his life, he must have enjoyed an opportunity of acquiring the intimate knowledge of its people, antiquities, and topography, which the Don Quixote shows; and that this could hardly have happened except between the end of 1598, when we lose all trace of him at Seville, and the beginning of 1603, when we find him established at Valladolid.
To Valladolid he went, apparently because the court had been removed thither by the caprice of Philip the Third and the interests of his favorite, the Duke of Lerma; but, as everywhere else, there too, he was overlooked and left in poverty. Indeed, we should hardly know he was in Valladolid at all before the publication of the First Part of his Don Quixote, but for two painful circumstances. The first is an account, in his own handwriting, for sewing done by his sister, who, having sacrificed every thing for his redemption from captivity, became dependent on him during her widowhood and died in his family. The other is, that, in one of those night-brawls common among the gallants of the Spanish court, a stranger was killed near the house where Cervantes lived; in consequence of which, and of some suspicions that fell on the family, he was, according to the hard provisions of the Spanish law, confined with the other principal witnesses until an investigation could take place.[130]
But in the midst of poverty and embarrassments, and while acting in the humble capacity of general agent and amanuensis for those who needed his services,[131] Cervantes had prepared for the press the First Part of his Don Quixote, which was licensed in 1604, at Valladolid, and printed in 1605, at Madrid. It was received with such decided favor, that, before the year was out, another edition was called for at Madrid, and two more elsewhere; circumstances which, after so many discouragements in other attempts to procure a subsistence, naturally turned his thoughts more towards letters than they had been at any previous period of his life.
In 1606, the court having gone back to Madrid, Cervantes followed it, and there passed the remainder of his life; changing his residence to different parts of the city at least seven times in the course of ten years, apparently as he was driven hither and thither by his necessities. In 1609, he joined the Brotherhood of the Holy Sacrament,—one of those religious associations which were then fashionable, and the same of which Quevedo, Lope de Vega, and other distinguished men of letters of the time, were members. About the same period, too, he seems to have become known to most of these persons, as well as to others of the favored poets round the court, among whom were Espinel and the two Argensolas; though what were his relations with them, beyond those implied in the commendatory verses they prefixed to each other’s works, we do not know.
Concerning his relations with Lope de Vega there has been much discussion to little purpose. Certain it is, that Cervantes often praises this great literary idol of his age, and that four or five times Lope stoops from his pride of place and compliments Cervantes, though never beyond the measure of praise he bestows on many whose claims were greatly inferior. But in his stately flight, it is plain that he soared much above the author of Don Quixote, to whose highest merits he seemed carefully to avoid all homage;[132] and though I find no sufficient reason to suppose their relation to each other was marked by any personal jealousy or ill-will, as has been sometimes supposed, yet I can find no proof that it was either intimate or kindly. On the contrary, when we consider the good-nature of Cervantes, which made him praise to excess nearly all his other literary contemporaries, as well as the greatest of them all, and when we allow for the frequency of hyperbole in such praises at that time, which prevented them from being what they would now be, we may perceive an occasional coolness in his manner, when he speaks of Lope, which shows, that, without overrating his own merits and claims, he was not insensible to the difference in their respective positions, or to the injustice towards himself implied by it. Indeed, his whole tone, whenever he notices Lope, seems to be marked with much personal dignity, and to be singularly honorable to him.[133]
In 1613, he published his “Novelas Exemplares,” Instructive or Moral Tales,[134] twelve in number, and making one volume. Some of them were written several years before, as was “The Impertinent Curiosity,” inserted in the First Part of Don Quixote,[135] and “Rinconete y Cortadillo,” which is mentioned there, so that both must be dated as early as 1604; while others contain internal evidence of the time of their composition, as the “Española Inglesa” does, which seems to have been written in 1611. All of these stories are, as he intimates in their Preface, original, and most of them have the air of being drawn from his personal experience and observation.
Their value is different, for they are written with different views, and in a variety of style and manner greater than he has elsewhere shown; but most of them contain touches of what is peculiar in his talent, and are full of that rich eloquence and of those pleasing descriptions of natural scenery which always flow so easily from his pen. They have little in common with the graceful story-telling spirit of Boccaccio and his followers, and still less with the strictly practical tone of Don Juan Manuel’s tales; nor, on the other hand, do they approach, except in the case of the Impertinent Curiosity, the class of short novels which have been frequent in other countries within the last century. The more, therefore, we examine them, the more we shall find that they are original in their composition and general tone, and that they are strongly marked with the individual genius of their author, as well as with the more peculiar traits of the national character,—the ground, no doubt, on which they have always been favorites at home, and less valued than they deserve to be abroad. As works of invention, they rank, among their author’s productions, next after Don Quixote; in correctness and grace of style they stand before it.
The first in the series, “The Little Gypsy Girl,” is the story of a beautiful creature, Preciosa, who had been stolen, when an infant, from a noble family, and educated in the wild community of the Gypsies,—that mysterious and degraded race which, until within the last fifty years, has always thriven in Spain since it first appeared there in the fifteenth century. There is a truth, as well as a spirit, in parts of this little story, that cannot be overlooked. The description of Preciosa’s first appearance in Madrid during a great religious festival; the effect produced by her dancing and singing in the streets; her visits to the houses to which she was called for the amusement of the rich; and the conversations, compliments, and style of entertainment, are all admirable, and leave no doubt of their truth and reality. But there are other passages which, mistaking in some respects the true Gypsy character, seem as if they were rather drawn from some such imitations of it as the “Life of Bampfylde Moore Carew” than from a familiarity with Gypsy life as it then existed in Spain.[136]
The next of the tales is very different, and yet no less within the personal experience of Cervantes himself. It is called “The Generous Lover,” and is nearly the same in its incidents with an episode found in his own “Trato de Argel.” The scene is laid in Cyprus, two years after the capture of that island by the Turks in 1570; but here it is his own adventures in Algiers upon which he draws for the materials and coloring of what is Turkish in his story, and the vivacity of his descriptions shows how much of reality there is in both.
The third story, “Rinconete y Cortadillo,” is again quite unlike any of the others. It is an account of two young vagabonds, not without ingenuity and spirit, who join at Seville, in 1569, one of those organized communities of robbers and beggars which often recur in the history of Spanish society and manners during the last three centuries. The realm of Monipodio, their chief, reminds us at once of Alsatia in Sir Walter Scott’s “Nigel,” and the resemblance is made still more obvious afterwards, when, in “The Colloquy of the Dogs,” we find the same Monipodio in secret league with the officers of justice. A single trait, however, will show with what fidelity Cervantes has copied from nature. The members of this confederacy, who lead the most dissolute and lawless lives, are yet represented as superstitious, and as having their images, their masses, and their contributions for pious charities, as if robbery were a settled and respectable vocation, a part of whose income was to be devoted to religious purposes in order to consecrate the remainder; a delusion which, in forms alternately ridiculous and revolting, has subsisted in Spain from very early times down to the present day.[137]
It would be easy to go on and show how the rest of the tales are marked with similar traits of truth and nature: for example, the story founded on the adventures of a Spanish girl carried to England when Cadiz was sacked in 1596; “The Jealous Estremadurian,” and “The Fraudulent Marriage,” the last two of which bear internal evidence of being founded on fact; and even “The Pretended Aunt,” which, as he did not print it himself,—apparently in consequence of its coarseness,—ought not now to be placed among his works, is after all the story of an adventure that really occurred at Salamanca in 1575.[138] Indeed, they are all fresh from the racy soil of the national character, as that character is found in Andalusia; and are written with an idiomatic richness, a spirit, and a grace, which, though they are the oldest tales of their class in Spain, have left them ever since without successful rivals.
In 1614, the year after they appeared, Cervantes printed his “Journey to Parnassus”; a satire in terza rima, divided into eight short chapters, and written in professed imitation of an Italian satire, by Cesare Caporali, on the same subject and in the same measure.[139] The poem of Cervantes has little merit. It is an account of a summons by Apollo, requiring all good poets to come to his assistance for the purpose of driving all the bad poets from Parnassus, in the course of which Mercury is sent in a royal galley, allegorically built and rigged with different kinds of verses, to Cervantes, who, being confidentially consulted about the Spanish poets that can be trusted as allies in the war against bad taste, has an opportunity of speaking his opinion on whatever relates to the poetry of his time.
The most interesting part is the fourth chapter, in which he slightly notices the works he has himself written,[140] and complains, with a gayety that at least proves his good-humor, of the poverty and neglect with which they have been rewarded.[141] It may be difficult, perhaps, to draw a line between such feelings as Cervantes here very strongly expresses, and the kindred ones of vanity and presumption; but yet, when his genius, his wants, and his manly struggles against the gravest evils of life are considered, and when to this are added the light-heartedness and simplicity with which he always speaks of himself, and the indulgence he always shows to others, few will complain of him for claiming with some boldness honors that had been coldly withheld, and to which he felt that he was entitled.
At the end he has added a humorous prose dialogue, called the “Adjunta,” defending his dramas, and attacking the actors who refused to represent them. He says that he had prepared six full-length plays, and six Entremeses or farces; but that the theatre had its pensioned poets, and so took no note of him. The next year, however, when their number had become eight plays and eight Entremeses, he found a publisher, though not without difficulty; for the bookseller, as he says in the Preface, had been warned by a noble author, that from his prose much might be hoped, but from his poetry nothing. And truly his position in relation to the theatre was not one to be desired. Thirty years had passed since he had himself been a successful writer for it; and the twenty or more pieces he had then produced, some of which he mentions anew with great complacency,[142] were, no doubt, long since forgotten. In the interval, as he tells us, “that great prodigy of nature, Lope de Vega, has raised himself to the monarchy of the theatre, subjected it to his control, and placed all its actors under his jurisdiction; filled the world with becoming plays, happily and well written; ... and if any persons (and in truth there are not a few such) have desired to enter into competition with him and share the glory of his labors, all they have done, when put together, would not equal the half of what has been done by him alone.”[143]
The number of these writers for the stage in 1615 was, as Cervantes intimates, very considerable; and when he goes on to enumerate, among the more successful, Mira de Mescua, Guillen de Castro, Aguilar, Luis Vélez de Guevara, Gaspar de Avila, and several others, we perceive, at once, that the essential direction and character of the Spanish drama were at last determined. Of course, the free field open to him when he composed the plays of his youth was now closed; and as he wrote from the pressure of want, he could venture to write only according to the models triumphantly established by Lope de Vega and his imitators.
The eight plays or Comedias he now produced were, therefore, all composed in the style and in the forms of verse already fashionable and settled. Their subjects are as various as the subjects of his tales. One of them is a rifacimento of his “Trato de Argel,” and is curious, because it contains some of the materials, and even occasionally the very phraseology, of the story of the Captive in Don Quixote, and because Lope de Vega thought fit afterwards to use it somewhat too freely in the composition of his own “Esclavos en Argel.”[144] Much of it seems to be founded in fact; among the rest, the deplorable martyrdom of a child in the third act, and the representation of one of the Coloquios or farces of Lope de Rueda by the slaves in their prison-yard.
Another of the plays, the story of which is also said to be true, is “El Gallardo Español,” or The Bold Spaniard.[145] Its hero, named Saavedra, and therefore, perhaps, of the old family into which that of Cervantes had long before intermarried, goes over to the Moors for a time, from a point of honor about a lady, but turns out at last a true Spaniard in every thing else, as well as in the exaggeration of his gallantry. “The Sultana” is founded on the history of a Spanish captive, who rose so high in the favor of the Grand Turk, that she is represented in the play as having become, not merely a favorite, but absolutely the Sultana, and yet as continuing to be a Christian,—a story which was readily believed in Spain, though only the first part of it is true, as Cervantes must have known, since Catharine of Oviedo, who is the heroine, was his contemporary.[146] The “Rufian Dichoso” is a Don Juan in licentiousness and crime, who is converted and becomes so extraordinary a saint, that, to redeem the soul of a dying sinner, Doña Ana de Treviño, he formally surrenders to her his own virtues and good works, and assumes her sins, beginning anew, through incredible sufferings, the career of penitence and reformation; all of which, or at least what is the most gross and revolting in it, is declared by Cervantes, as an eye-witness, to be true.[147]
The remaining four plays are no less various in their subjects and no less lawless in the modes of treating them; and all the eight are divided into three jornadas, which Cervantes uses as strictly synonymous with acts.[148] All preserve the character of the Fool, who in one instance is an ecclesiastic,[149] and all extend over any amount of time and space that is found convenient to the action; the “Rufian Dichoso,” for instance, beginning in Seville and Toledo, during the youth of the hero, and ending in Mexico in his old age. The personages represented are extravagant in their number,—once amounting to above thirty,—and among them, besides every variety of human existences, are Demons, Souls in Purgatory, Lucifer, Fear, Despair, Jealousy, and other similar phantasms. The truth is, Cervantes had renounced all the principles of the drama which his discreet canon had so gravely set forth ten years earlier in the First Part of Don Quixote; and now, whether with the consent of his will, or only with that of his poverty, we cannot tell, but, as may be seen, not merely in the plays themselves, but in a sort of induction to the second act of the Rufian Dichoso, he had fully and knowingly adopted the dramatic theories of Lope’s school.
The eight Entremeses are better than the eight full-length plays. They are short farces, generally in prose, with a slight plot, and sometimes with none, and were intended merely to amuse an audience in the intervals between the acts of the longer pieces. “The Spectacle of Wonders,” for instance, is only a series of practical tricks to frighten the persons attending a puppet-show, so as to persuade them that they see what is really not on the stage. “The Watchful Guard” interests us, because he seems to have drawn the character of the soldier from his own; and the date of 1611, which is contained in it, may indicate the time when it was written. “The Jealous Old Man” is a reproduction of the tale of “The Jealous Estremadurian,” with a different and more spirited conclusion. And the “Cueva de Salamanca” is one of those jests at the expense of husbands which are common enough on the Spanish stage, and were, no doubt, equally common in Spanish life and manners. All, indeed, have an air of truth and reality, which, whether they were founded in fact or not, it was evidently the author’s purpose to give them.
But there was an insuperable difficulty in the way of all his efforts on the stage. Cervantes had not dramatic talent, nor a clear perception how dramatic effects were to be produced. From the time when he wrote the “Trato de Argel,” which was an exhibition of the sufferings he had himself witnessed and shared in Algiers, he seemed to suppose that whatever was both absolutely true and absolutely striking could be produced with effect on the theatre; thus confounding the province of romantic fiction and story-telling with that of theatrical representation, and often relying on trivial incidents and an humble style for effects which could be produced only by ideal elevation and incidents so combined by a dramatic instinct as to produce a dramatic interest.
This was, probably, owing in part to the different direction of his original genius, and in part to the condition of the theatre, which in his youth he had found open to every kind of experiment and really settled in nothing. But whatever may have been the cause of his failure, the failure itself has been a great stumbling-block in the way of Spanish critics, who have resorted to somewhat violent means in order to prevent the reputation of Cervantes from being burdened with it. Thus, Blas de Nasarre, the king’s librarian,—who, in 1749, published the first edition of these unsuccessful dramas that had appeared since they were printed above a century earlier,—would persuade us, in his Preface, that they were written by Cervantes to parody and caricature the theatre of Lope de Vega;[150] though, setting aside all that at once presents itself from the personal relations of the parties, nothing can be more serious than the interest Cervantes took in the fate of his plays, and the confidence he expressed in their dramatic merit; while, at the same time, not a line has ever been pointed out as a parody in any one of them.[151]
This position being untenable, Lampillas, who, in the latter part of the last century, wrote a long defence of Spanish literature against the suggestions of Tiraboschi and Bettinelli in Italy, gravely maintains that Cervantes sent, indeed, eight plays and eight Entremeses to the booksellers, but that the booksellers took the liberty to change them, and printed eight others with his name and Preface. It should not, however, be forgotten that Cervantes lived to prepare two works after this, and if such an insult had been offered him, the country, judging from the way in which he treated the less gross offence of Avellaneda, would have been filled with his reproaches and remonstrances.[152]
Nothing remains, therefore, but to confess—what seems, indeed, to be quite incontestable—that Cervantes wrote several plays which fell seriously below what might have been hoped from him. Passages, indeed, may be found in them where his genius asserts itself. “The Labyrinth of Love,” for instance, has a chivalrous air and plot that make it interesting; and the Entremes of “The Pretended Biscayan,” contains specimens of the peculiar humor with which we always associate the name of its author. But it is quite too probable that he had made up his mind to sacrifice his own opinions respecting the drama to the popular taste; and if the constraint he thus laid upon himself was one of the causes of his failure, it only affords another ground for our interest in the fate of one whose whole career was so deeply marked with trials and calamity.[153]
But the life of Cervantes, with all its troubles and sufferings, was now fast drawing to a close. In October of the same year, 1615, he published the Second Part of his Don Quixote; and in its Dedication to the Count de Lemos, who had for some time favored him,[154] he alludes to his failing health, and intimates that he hardly looked for the continuance of life beyond a few months. His spirits, however, which had survived his sufferings in the Levant, at Algiers, and in prisons at home, and which, as he approached his seventieth year, had been sufficient to produce a work like the Second Part of Don Quixote, did not forsake him, now that his strength was wasting away under the influence of disease and old age. On the contrary, with unabated vivacity he urged forward his romance of “Persiles and Sigismunda”; anxious only that life enough should be allowed him to finish it, as the last offering of his gratitude to his generous patron. In the spring he went to Esquivias, where was the little estate he had received with his wife, and after his return wrote a Preface to his unpublished romance, full of a delightful and simple humor, in which he tells a pleasant story of being overtaken in his ride back to Madrid by a medical student, who gave him much good advice about the dropsy, under which he was suffering; to which he replied, that his pulse had already warned him that he was not to live beyond the next Sunday. “And so,” says he, at the conclusion of this remarkable Preface, “farewell to jesting, farewell my merry humors, farewell my gay friends, for I feel that I am dying, and have no desire but soon to see you happy in the other life.”
In this temper he prepared to meet death, as many Catholics of strong religious impressions were accustomed to do at that time;[155] and, on the 2d of April, entered the order of Franciscan friars, whose habit he had assumed three years before at Alcalá. Still, however, his feelings as an author, his vivacity, and his personal gratitude did not desert him. On the 18th of April he received the extreme unction, and the next day wrote a Dedication of his “Persiles y Sigismunda” to the Count de Lemos, marked, to an extraordinary degree, with his natural humor, and with the solemn thoughts that became his situation.[156] The last known act of his life, therefore, shows that he still possessed his faculties in perfect serenity, and four days afterwards, on the 23d of April, 1616, he died, at the age of sixty-eight.[157] He was buried, as he probably had desired, in the convent of the Nuns of the Trinity; but a few years afterwards this convent was removed to another part of the city, and what became of the ashes of the greatest genius of his country is, from that time, wholly unknown.[158]