The sorrows to which Lope alludes, we conjecture to have arisen from straitened means. He brought out a vast quantity of plays at this time, and received no scanty remuneration; still he was not risen to the zenith of his fame, when on every side he received donations and pensions. He was extravagant we know, and prodigality might easily produce a gap between his expenses and his chance receipts as an author. This view is strengthened by his dedication of his play "El Verdadero Amante," The True Lover, to his little son Carlos. This was not published till 1620, but must have been written long previous, as Carlos died before (how long, we know not) 1609, and is dedicated to him while he was learning the rudiments of the Latin language. He bids him follow his studies without impeding them with poetry, because he who had addicted himself to it was ill rewarded. He continues—"I possess only, as you know, a poor house, with table and establishment in proportion, and a small garden, whose flowers divert my cares and inspire me with ideas. I have written 900 plays, and twelve volumes on various subjects in prose and verse, so that the printed will never equal in quantity the unprinted; and I have acquired enemies, critics, quarrels, envy, reprehension, and cares; having lost precious time, and arrived nearly at old age without leaving you any thing but this useless advice." Notwithstanding this repining. Lord Holland is probably right in supposing that the years of Lope's second marriage were the happiest of his life, though, perhaps, he felt at the commencement some pecuniary embarrassments. Through life he was extravagant, and on first setting out as an author might easily be in debt; yet, as he rose in fame his fortunes mended, and affection and content enshrined the family circle.
The period of his domestic happiness did not last long. At six years old, his little son died; his wife soon followed her child to the tomb, and Lope was left with two daughters.[95] From his own pen we give an account of his wedded happiness, and his grief when his home again became desolate. In the Eclogue to Claudio, he says:—
"I saw a group my board surround,
And sure to me, though poorly spread,
'T was rich with such fair objects crowned—
Dear bitter presents of my bed!
I saw them pay their tribute to the tomb,
And scenes so cheerful change to mourning and to gloom."
In addition to this affecting picture, he makes frequent mention of these circumstances in his epistles, and we subjoin extracts, which we are sure must interest the reader.
One of these epistles is addressed to doctor Mathias de Porras, who had been appointed corregidor of the province of Canta in Peru. These epistles are in verse; but as their length is great, the abstract made from them might as well be in prose:—
Since you left me, Señor Doctor, and without dying went to the other world, I have passed my life in melancholy solitude; the evils of my lot increasing in proportion to the blessings of which you saw me deprived. Did not my new office (of priest) give me breath, the prop of my years would fall to the ground. O vain hopes! How strange are the roads that life passes through, as each day we acquire new delusions!" He then goes on to speak of his early loves and sorrows, and of the power of beauty, and continues, "But the vicissitudes of a life of passion were then over, and my heart was liberated from its importuning annoyances, when each morning I saw the dear and sincere face of my sweet wife at my side, and when Carlos—his cheeks all lilies and roses—won my soul by his charming prattle. The boy gambolled about me as a young lamb in a meadow at the morning hour. The half-formed words of his little tongue were sentences for us, interpreted by our kisses. I gave thanks to Eternal Wisdom, and content with such mornings after such dark nights, I sometimes wept my vain hopes, and believed myself secure—not of life—but of reserving this felicity. I then went to write a few lines, having consulted my books. They called me to eat, but I often bade them leave me, such was the attraction of study. Then bright as flowers and pearls, Carlos entered to call me, and gave light to my eyes and embraces to my heart. Sometimes he took me by the hand, and drew me to the table beside his mother. There, doctor, without pomp, an honest and liberal mediocrity gave us sufficing sustenance. But fierce Death deprived me of this ease, this cure, this hope. I lived no longer to behold that dear society which I imagined mine for ever. Then I disposed my mind for the priesthood, that asylum might shelter and guard me. The Muses were idle for a time, and I refrained from all things worldly, and humbly attained the sacred stole."
Another epistle is written under the feigned name of Belardo, the appellation he had assumed in his "Arcadia," to Amaryllis.[96] In this he gives a sketch of portions of his life. He speaks of his early turn for poetry and his predilection for study, and continues:—"Love, and love ever speaks false, bade me incline to follow him. What then befell me I now feel; but as I loved a beauty never to be mine, I had recourse to study, and thus the poet destroyed the love that destroyed him. Favoured by my stars, I learned several languages, and enriched my own by the knowledge I gained through them. Twice I married; from which you may gather that I was happy—for no one tries twice a painful thing. I had a son whom my soul lived in. You will know by my elegy that this light of my eyes was called Carlos. Six times did the sun retrocede, equalling day and night, counting thus the time of his birth, when this my sun lost its light. Then expired life that was the life of Jacinta. How much better it had been that I had died, than that Carlos in his very morning should encounter so long a night! Lope remained, if it be Lope who now lives. Marcella at fifteen obliged me to offer her to God, although, and you may believe me, though a father's love might be supposed blind, she was neither foolish nor ugly. Feliciana showed me in her words and eyes the image of her lost mother, who died in giving her birth. Her virtues enforce tears, and time does not cure my sorrow. I left the gaieties of secular life; I was ordained. Such is my life; and my desires aspire to a good end only, without extravagant pretensions."
In his epistle to don Francisco de Herrera he enlarges on the vocation of Marcella. "Marcella," he says, "the first care of my heart, thought of marrying, and one evening she spoke freely to me of her betrothed. I, seeing that it was prudent to examine her wish, since accident might have swayed it, grew attentive; at the same time that I desired to avoid shaking her intention if it were founded in the truth of her heart. But her anxiety increasing each day, I resolved to give her the husband to whom she aspired with so much love." He then explains the Son of God to be her bridegroom—vows of chastity her nuptial benediction. He describes the whole ceremony of her taking the veil. The marchioness de la Tela was her godmother; the duke of Sesa and many other nobles being present. Hortensio preached the sermon. "She asked me," he says, "leave to conclude the marriage, and she whom I had loved, and whose lovely person I had adorned more like a lover than a father, in gold and silk—like a rose that fades and falls to pieces at the close of day, losing the pomp of her crimson leaves—now sleeps upon rough straw, and barefoot and ill clad sits at a poor table."
The dates of the various events of Lope's life are very uncertain, and none more so than that of his second marriage. He mentions it as happening soon after his return from the expedition to England. Yet he speaks of taking orders soon after his wife's death, and he took orders 1609. The term of his second marriage, however, endured only for eight years. It would therefore appear that several years elapsed after his return to Madrid before he married a second time. As diligent a researcher as M. Viardôt in old parish books and official documents, would clear up this obscurity. As it is, we can only give the facts, as we find them stated, obscurely.
The effect of his bereaved condition was, as has been mentioned, to induce him to take vows, and be ordained. He prepared himself, by retiring from gay society, assumed a priestly dress, served in hospitals, and performed many acts of charity; and finally, visiting Toledo, took orders, and said his first mass in a Carmelite church. He entered a fraternity of priests dedicated to the performance of good works and the assistance of the poor, and fulfilled his duties zealously, so that he became named head chaplain, and was as generous as conscientious in the exercise of his office. To his other sacred employments he added that of being a familiar of the inquisition. His piety, which was catholic and excessive, led to this; but it is a painful circumstance, in our times especially, when we are told that he presided over the procession of the confraternity of familiars of the holy office, on the occasion of an auto da fé, when a relapsed Lutheran was burned alive. We feel sure that Cervantes would never have been led to a similar act.