It would appear that many comedies in Rueda’s style were at one time acted, though they are now lost to literature. Cervantes, for instance, praises the perfection to which that style of comic drama had been brought by a player, named Naharro of Toledo, who must not be confounded with Torres Naharro. Cervantes informs us, that this Naharro augmented the theatrical wardrobe so considerably, that it could no longer be contained in a bag, but was packed up in boxes and chests. He exploded the custom of dressing the old characters in beards, and removed the orchestra, which had previously been stationed behind the scenes, to the front of the stage. He moreover exhibited imitations of clouds, of thunder and lightning, made other great improvements in the scenic machinery, (tramoyas), and even introduced single combats and battles on the stage. His name certainly deserves to be preserved from oblivion; and it is unfortunate that Cervantes has neglected to mention what kind of poetry or prose was spoken by the actors in these new dramatic spectacles.
A Spanish author of learning and merit, named Juan de la Cueva, who lived about this period, seems to have been the first to perceive that the Spanish drama could never succeed, if men of literary acquirements, endowed with genius for dramatic composition, continued opposed to the popular party. This meritorious author was a native of Seville, which at that time appears to have been the cradle of every kind of talent. The history of his life is enveloped in obscurity, and his various writings, in every class of poetry, notwithstanding the praises which critics have bestowed on them, are, though not totally sunk into oblivion, very little known.[288] His copious Art of Poetry in tercets, which was lately, for the first time, published from manuscript, contains some important information relative to the history of Spanish poetry. It is, however, merely written in good versified prose, and pure language, but is in no respect poetical.[289] This Art of Poetry, if so it must be called, shews, among other things, how numerous was the party which at that time endeavoured to give to the Spanish drama the form of the antique. An author, named Malara, a native of Seville, who was called the Betisian Menander, in allusion to the Betis or Gaudalquivir, and six other poets of that city, among whom is Gutierre de Cetina, the celebrated author of several Spanish comedies in the ancient style, are honourably mentioned by Juan de la Cueva. But this judicious writer maintained that there were peculiarities in the ancient drama, which, though excellent in themselves, would not accord with the spirit of the moderns. The dramatic laws of the ancients had, in his opinion, ceased to be obligatory; and he conceived it to be reasonable that dramatic fictions should be accommodated to the taste of the age and to the circumstances in which they are written.[290] The Spanish public had already manifested a strong predilection for plays in the modern style, and an aversion equally decided from all the imitations of the dramatic works of the ancients. It was therefore designedly and with a persevering industry that the Spaniards had struck out for themselves a new course in dramatic literature. In genius and taste they could only have vied with the Greeks and Romans, without surpassing them; but invention, grace, ingenious arrangement, and a certain art of involving and unravelling the plot, which foreigners could not imitate, were the qualities on which the glory of the Spanish drama was destined to be founded.[291] Juan de la Cueva proceeds to state, that on these principles he had no scruple in contributing to overthrow the ancient boundary between tragedy and comedy; and to introduce on the stage, for the sake of variety, characters clad in the rustic peasant’s garb, along with others attired in the robes of royalty. Thus far he trod in the footsteps of Torres Naharro. And yet he appears to have had no distinct knowledge of the writings of that author; for he never mentions them; while, on the other hand, speaking of his own works, he observes that he had abandoned the old custom of dividing dramatic pieces into five acts, and chose in preference the new method, then in vogue, of arranging them in jornadas.[292] Cervantes must of course have been ignorant of the decided testimony thus given by Juan de la Cueva, since he imagines that he was himself the first to introduce the three divisions of the Spanish drama. The approbation bestowed on Cueva’s dramatic works, in the new style, seems, however, to have been but feeble and transitory; and this explains how the editor of Cervantes’s comedies, in his account of the early history of the Spanish drama, has omitted to mention the name of Cueva.
It will, perhaps, be proper to defer entering more fully into the investigation of the peculiar spirit of the Spanish national drama, until the writings of Lope de Vega come under consideration; for during the brilliant career of that author, the new form of the drama took complete possession of the Spanish theatre, and the older pieces, which did not fall in with the popular taste, were speedily forgotten by the public, as the notices of Cervantes clearly shew. But it may be proper here once for all to remind the reader of a truth now historically demonstrated, namely, that it was by no means ignorance, or want of intimacy with the dramatic works of the ancients, which facilitated the triumph of the modern Spanish drama.
No sufficiently authenticated particulars enable the literary historian to furnish any thing like positive information respecting the history of the spiritual dramas of the Spaniards at the period now under review. Considered generally their origin is sufficiently known; for dramas of this kind, intended either for amusement or instruction, were, in the middle ages, performed throughout the whole of the south of Europe. In Spain, pilgrims assiduously devoted themselves to the dramatic representation of sacred histories, when they wished to find an edifying and agreeable relaxation from their severer duties of praying and journeying from place to place. In these sacred dramas, the authors often interwove the adventures, whether serious or comic, in which they had been engaged, or described what they had seen and learnt in their holy pilgrimages; and the whole was usually seasoned with a sufficient quantity of jests in the popular style. To manifest in as palpable a way as possible the power of the sacrament, and the miraculous effects of faith, were the great objects of the pilgrims; and there seems to be no doubt that their rude efforts formed the origin of that class of spiritual plays, which, at a subsequent period, were performed on the festival of Corpus Christi, and on other solemn occasions; and which, from their allusion to the mystery of the sacrament, were styled Autos Sacramentales. But at what particular period examples of these spiritual exhibitions were first committed to writing, and formed a portion of literature, cannot now be ascertained. They have sometimes been confounded with the lives of the saints (vidas de santos[293]), which were originally dramatized in monasteries, and performed by the pupils of the monks, but which are in fact quite a distinct class of representations. Up to the middle of the eighteenth century the practice of acting these biographical dramas was continued in monasteries in different parts of Spain, particularly in Galicia;[294] and perhaps in that province they yet afford a source of amusement and edification on festival days, to the pilgrims who visit the shrine of St. Iago de Compostela.
The burlesque interludes, called Entremeses and Saynetes, which were subsequently divided into various kinds, and were performed between the preludes (loas) and the play, properly so called, appear also to have had their origin in the first half of the sixteenth century. Cervantes could refer to no entremeses of an older date, when he contributed to give to this class of dramatic compositions a literary form and character.
What has been stated sufficiently proves the powerful control which the public exercised over the stage. The popular taste demanded an agreeable amusement, created by the boldest and most varied mixture of the serious and the comic, of intrigues, sallies of the imagination and ingenious thoughts, of surprises and animated situations; but it was not required that either a comic or a tragic scene should tend to produce any moral impression on the heart, except indeed in so far as that object may be attributed to the spiritual pieces. But how did it happen that a people in whom moral gravity has ever been a national characteristic, should thus shew themselves indifferent to the moral effects of their dramatic entertainments. The history of the formation of the Spanish character appears to disclose the cause of this incongruity so clearly, that it might be said, nature would have contradicted herself, had not such been the consequence resulting from that cause. When the treasures of America came to be dispersed through Spain, luxury and extravagance superseded the old Spanish simplicity. The age of chivalry was past; and the ecclesiastical fetters imposed upon opinion and conscience, afforded so little freedom to the mind, that it was not possible the public could endure, still less enjoy, moral reflection on the stage. The Spaniard, as a catholic Christian, devoutly and implicitly submitted his understanding to the doctrines and mandates of the church; but as a man he ardently longed for amusements, in which he might allow his heart freely to participate. Moral reflection then could not be pleasing in any place where he sought to be gratified by the unconstrained exercise of his feelings; for every moral thought tended to revive the recollection of the inquisition. Meanwhile the progress of luxury and the love of pleasure stimulated the imagination, and increased the appetite for sports of wit and fancy, which were pushed to the most extravagant excess. A people of an ardent and enthusiastic temperament, which a genial climate fostered, were always eager to partake of pleasures which no king or grand inquisitor threatened to disturb. With a taste thus formed, and with such claims on dramatic entertainment, the Spaniards were not to be satisfied with the most ingenious comedies or tragedies, unless the wildest revels of the imagination and a succession of joyous and luxuriant forms agitated and interested the mind, and freed it from all the fetters of maxims and rules of art. To see a variegated ideal world, a diversified picture of romantic existence, was the object for which the Spaniard visited the theatre, where he could endure no sort of regularity, not even that which the nature of the subject seemed most to require.
This portion of the history of Spanish dramatic poetry must not be terminated without a particular notice of two tragedies by Geronymo Bermudez, a Dominican monk of Galicia, who, at the period when he wrote them, was probably the inmate of a cloister.[295] He did not think proper to acknowledge himself the author of these dramas, and he published them under the assumed name of Antonio de Silva.[296] Among his other poetical works, some Spanish writers mention in terms of respect, a dull encomium on the Duke of Alba, of whom this ecclesiastic was an enthusiastic admirer.[297] He lived until the year 1589. His two tragedies are imitations of the ancient drama, but they must not be confounded with the essays of the same kind, which have already been mentioned. Bermudez conceived the happy idea of selecting a subject from the history of Spain and Portugal, and dramatizing it according to the rules of the Greek tragedy, without destroying the modern character of his materials. The well known story of the unfortunate Ines de Castro, seemed particularly suited to the object he had in view. Being a Galician, he had, through his native language, a national relationship to Portugal, and he consequently took more personal interest in the tragical fate of his heroine, than was felt by Spaniards in general. He did not commence his task without apprehension of its success; for, as a Spaniard, he wished to write in Castilian, and he was, therefore, in some measure, under the necessity of studying a foreign language. This difficulty he mentions in his preface. But with all its faults, his attempt proved so fortunate, that his two tragedies may justly be styled the first in their kind. Though they are intimately connected, yet each forms in itself a complete tragic drama. Their titles are whimsical and affected: the first is denominated, Nise Lastimosa, (the Lamentable Nise); and the second, Nise Laureada, (Nise Crowned with Glory).[298] The characters preserve their historical names. The first of these tragedies sufficiently proves what may be effected by a poet, even of moderate talent, when thoroughly penetrated with a poetic subject, and at the same time possessing the power of expression. The Nise Lastimosa, it is true, is far from approaching the ideal of tragic perfection; but some of the scenes fulfil all that the theory of the dramatic art can require; and energy and dignity of expression are not wanting even in those passages where the action is tedious and the incidents ill-connected. The plot is simple, and towards the conclusion its interest declines. But Bermudez has introduced, with alternate instances of remarkable dexterity and clumsiness, a chorus composed of Coimbran women, which is sometimes interwoven with the action of the drama, and sometimes quite independent of it. The unities of time and place the author has totally disregarded. The first act opens with a soliloquy by the Prince Don Pedro, which is beautiful, though somewhat too long. In it the prince deplores his separation from his beloved wife.[299] This soliloquy is succeeded by a long conversation between the prince and his secretary, in which the latter, with all due courtesy, hints that the attachment of the prince for a lady, not of royal birth, is incompatible with the welfare of the state.[300] The scene then changes, and the chorus of Coimbran women is very absurdly introduced to moralize on love. Thus closes the first act. In the second, the scene changes to the court, and exhibits the king amidst his assembled council; the advice of the ministers prevails over the good disposition of the monarch, and he consents to the death of Ines de Castro. A soliloquy by the king follows, in which he offers up his prayers. The scene again changes, and the fair Coimbrans once more appear to moralize on human happiness. In the third act, however, a new spirit is infused into the piece, and the chorus partakes in the action. Ines de Castro appears. The women of the chorus form her attendants, and offer her consolation and advice. Ines is informed of the reports that are circulated respecting her fate;[301] but throughout this act, the progress of the story is nearly suspended. The fourth act may, however, be accounted almost a masterpiece. Ines attended by her children and the chorus, appears before the king to receive her sentence. Nothing can be more impressive than the dignity with which she demands justice, or more affecting than the tenderness towards her children, which continually breaks forth in her discourse; at length she pictures to herself in vivid colours, the sorrows that await her husband, till exhausted by the vehemence of her feelings, and gradually losing the use of her faculties, she begins for the first time to think of her own situation, anticipates the horrors of death, and swoons, exclaiming Jesus Maria! This scene exhibits a picture so replete with real pathos, that it may be truly said, modern tragic art has seldom attained so high a point of perfection.[302] The fifth act is merely a tedious supplement. The prince is made acquainted with the death of his wife, and he vents his sorrow in long lamentations.
The tragedy of Nise Laureada is far inferior to that just described. The story is below criticism; and towards the end becomes revolting to feelings, which are not blunted by inquisitorial horrors, or sunk to the level of brutality. The Prince Don Pedro who has now ascended the throne, orders the remains of his judicially murdered wife to be taken from the tomb; he then, with great solemnity, invests the corpse with the dignity of queen, and the ceremony of the coronation is succeeded by a marriage. Two of the counsellors, whose perverted and inhuman patriotism had urged them to sacrifice the unhappy Ines, receive sentence of death and are executed. This is the whole plot, if so it may be called; and among the acting and speaking characters the executioners play a prominent part. The first act contains many beautiful passages; but when the last judicial ceremonies commence, horror and disgust fill the mind of the reader. The hearts of both culprits are extracted from their bodies, the one through the breast, and the other through the back. The most brutal exclamations accompany the execution of the royal sentence, and the chorus utters shouts of joy, while the executioner discharges his barbarous task. That these horrors might be regarded as pathetic incidents by the Spaniards of that age, accustomed as they were from early childhood to stifle every sentiment of humanity, and to allow fanatical exultation to overcome the natural emotions of the heart, whenever a brutal sentence was pronounced by ecclesiastical, or royal authority, is unfortunately but too probable. Had it not been for this perversion of feeling, a people, otherwise so noble-minded, could not have attended the cruel festivals of their church, and witnessed the burning of Jews and heretics with as much pleasure as the exhibition of a bull fight.
In order to form a just estimate of the talent of Bermudez, it must be recollected that he was the first who conceived the idea of giving a poetic colouring to the history of Ines de Castro. Camoens had not, at that time, written his Lusiad, in which the same story forms the subject of a celebrated episode. It may also be observed, that the labour which Bermudez bestowed on his versification, and particularly on the varied metres of the choruses of his dramas, ought to have served as an example to his successors in tragic composition.