Luis de Leon. — Early Life. — Persecutions. — Translation of the Canticles. — Names of Christ. — Perfect Wife and other Prose Works. — His Death. — His Poems. — His Character.
It should not be forgotten, that, while we have gone over the beginnings of the Italian school and of the existing theatre, we have had little occasion to notice one distinctive element of the Spanish character, which is yet almost constantly present in the great mass of the national literature: I mean, the religious element. A reverence for the Church, or, more properly, for the religion of the Church, and a deep sentiment of devotion, however mistaken in the forms it wore or in the direction it took, had been developed in the old Castilian character by the wars against Islamism, as much as the spirit of loyalty and knighthood, and had, from the first, found no less fitting poetical forms of expression. That no change took place in this respect in the sixteenth century, we find striking proof in the character of a noble Spaniard born in the city of Granada about twenty years later than Diego de Mendoza; but one whose gentler and graver genius easily took the direction which that of the elder cavalier so decidedly refused.
Luis Ponce de Leon, called, from his early and unbroken connection with the Church, “Brother Luis de Leon,” was born in 1528, and enjoyed advantages for education which, in his time, were almost exclusively confined to the children of noble and distinguished families. He was early sent to Salamanca, and there, when only sixteen years old, voluntarily entered the order of Saint Augustin. From this moment, the final direction was given to his life. He never ceased to be a monk; and he never ceased to be attached to the University where he was bred. In 1560, he became a Licentiate in Theology, and immediately afterwards was made a Doctor of Divinity. The next year, at the age of thirty-four, he obtained the chair of Saint Thomas Aquinas, which he won after a public competition against several opponents, four of whom were already professors; and to these honors he added, ten years later, that of the chair of Sacred Literature.
By this time, however, his influence and success had gathered round him a body of enemies, who soon found means to disturb his peace.[62] A friend, who did not understand the ancient languages, had desired him to translate “The Song of Solomon” into Castilian, and explain its character and purposes. This he had done; and the version which he thus made is commonly regarded as the earliest, or one of the earliest, among his known works. But in making it, he had treated the whole poem as a pastoral eclogue, in which the different personages converse together like shepherds.[63] This opinion, of course, was not agreeable to the doctrines of his Church and its principles of interpretation; but what he had done had been done only as an act of private friendship, and he had taken some pains to have his version known only to the individual at whose request it had been made. His manuscript, however, was copied and circulated by the treachery of a servant. One of the copies thus obtained fell into the hands of an enemy, and its author, in 1572, was brought before the Inquisition of Valladolid, charged with Lutheranism and with making a vernacular translation from the Scriptures, contrary to the decree of the Council of Trent. It was easy to answer the first part of the complaint, for Luis de Leon was no Protestant; but it was not possible to give a sufficient answer to the last. He had, however, powerful friends, and by their influence escaped the final terrors of the Inquisition, though not until he had been almost five years imprisoned in a way that seriously impaired his health and broke down his spirits.[64]
But the University remained faithful to him. He was reinstated in all his offices, with marks of the sincerest respect, on the 30th of December, 1576; and it is a beautiful circumstance attending his restoration, that, when, for the first time, he rose before a crowded audience, eager to hear what allusion he would make to his persecutions, he began by simply saying, “As we remarked when we last met,” and then went on, as if the five bitter years of his imprisonment had been a blank in his memory, bearing no record of the cruel treatment he had suffered.[65]
It seems, however, to have been thought advisable that he should vindicate his reputation from the suspicions that had been cast upon it; and therefore, in 1580, at the request of his friends, he published, in Latin, an extended commentary on the Canticles, interpreting each part in three different ways,—directly, symbolically, and mystically,—and giving the whole as theological and obscure a character as the most orthodox could desire, though still without concealing his opinion that it was originally intended to be a pastoral eclogue.
Another work on the same subject, but in Spanish, and in some respects like the one that had caused his imprisonment, was also prepared by him and found among his manuscripts after his death. But it was not thought advisable to print it till 1798. Even then a version of the Canticles, in Spanish octaves, as an eclogue, intended originally to accompany it, was not added, and did not appear till 1806;—a beautiful translation, which discovers, not only its author’s power as a poet, but the remarkable freedom of his theological inquiries, in a country where such freedom was, in that age, not tolerated for an instant.[66] The fragment of a defence of this version, or of some parts of it, is dated from his prison, in 1573, and was found long afterwards among the state papers of the kingdom in the archives of Simancas.[67]
While in prison he prepared a long prose work, which he entitled “The Names of Christ.” It is a singular specimen at once of Spanish theological learning, eloquence, and devotion. Of this, between 1583 and 1585, he published three books, but he never completed it.[68] It is thrown into the form of a dialogue, like the “Tusculan Questions,” which it was probably intended to imitate; and its purpose is, by means of successive discussions of the character of the Saviour, as set forth under the names of Son, Prince, Shepherd, King, etc., to excite devout feelings in those who read it. The form, however, is not adhered to with great strictness. The dialogue, instead of being a discussion, is, in fact, a series of speeches; and once, at least, we have a regular sermon, of as much merit, perhaps, as any in the language;[69] so that, taken together, the entire work may be regarded as a series of declamations on the character of Christ, as that character was regarded by the more devout portions of the Spanish Church in its author’s time. Many parts of it are eloquent, and its eloquence has not unfrequently the gorgeous coloring of the elder Spanish literature; such, for instance, as is found in the following passage, illustrating the title of Christ as the Prince of Peace, and proving the beauty of all harmony in the moral world from its analogies with the physical:—
“Even if reason should not prove it, and even if we could in no other way understand how gracious a thing is peace, yet would this fair show of the heavens over our heads and this harmony in all their manifold fires sufficiently bear witness to it. For what is it but peace, or, indeed, a perfect image of peace, that we now behold, and that fills us with such deep joy? Since if peace is, as Saint Augustin, with the brevity of truth, declares it to be, a quiet order, or the maintenance of a well-regulated tranquillity in whatever order demands,—then what we now witness is surely its true and faithful image. For while these hosts of stars, arranged and divided into their several bands, shine with such surpassing splendor, and while each one of their multitude inviolably maintains its separate station, neither pressing into the place of that next to it, nor disturbing the movements of any other, nor forgetting its own; none breaking the eternal and holy law God has imposed on it; but all rather bound in one brotherhood, ministering one to another, and reflecting their light one to another,—they do surely show forth a mutual love, and, as it were, a mutual reverence, tempering each other’s brightness and strength into a peaceful unity and power, whereby all their different influences are combined into one holy and mighty harmony, universal and everlasting. And therefore may it be most truly said, not only that they do all form a fair and perfect model of peace, but that they all set forth and announce, in clear and gracious words, what excellent things peace contains within herself and carries abroad whithersoever her power extends.”[70]
The eloquent treatise on the Names of Christ was not, however, the most popular of the prose works of Luis de Leon. This distinction belongs to his “Perfecta Casada,” or Perfect Wife; a treatise which he composed, in the form of a commentary on some portions of Solomon’s Proverbs, for the use of a lady newly married, and which was first published in 1583.[71] But it is not necessary specially to notice either this work, or his Exposition of Job, in two volumes, accompanied with a poetical version, which he began in prison for his own consolation, and finished the year of his death, but which none ventured to publish till 1779.[72] Both are marked with the same humble faith, the same strong enthusiasm, and the same rich eloquence, that appear, from time to time, in the work on the Names of Christ; though perhaps the last, which received the careful corrections of its author’s matured genius, has a serious and settled power greater than he has shown anywhere else. But the characteristics of his prose compositions—even those which from their nature are the most strictly didactic—are the same everywhere; and the rich language and imagery of the passage already cited afford a fair specimen of the style towards which he constantly directed his efforts.