HISTORY
OF
SPANISH AND PORTUGUESE
LITERATURE.

HISTORY
OF
SPANISH AND PORTUGUESE
LITERATURE.
BY
FREDERICK BOUTERWEK.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

Translated from the Original German,
BY THOMASINA ROSS.

VOL. I.
SPANISH LITERATURE.

LONDON:
BOOSEY AND SONS, BROAD STREET.
1823.

F. Justins, Printer, 41, Brick Lane, Spitalfields.

PREFACE.

The growing interest of Spanish and Portuguese Literature would, perhaps, be thought a sufficient reason for laying the following translation before the public, were the merits of the original work even less conspicuous, and the deficiency it appears fitted to supply in our language less sensibly felt. It is, indeed, extraordinary, that no similar work has hitherto appeared in a country, where the subject of which this history treats, has, in the instances in which it has been partially explored, always been found a rich source of pleasure and instruction. But the information thus collected from the literary stores of Spain and Portugal, however satisfactory on particular points, is, from its nature, detached and incomplete, and seems calculated to increase rather than to diminish the desire for such a connected and comprehensive view of the whole subject as M. Bouterwek has exhibited in his General History of Modern Literature.

The following volumes on the literature of Spain and Portugal are extracted from a work, entitled, Geschichte der Poesie und Beredsamkeit seit dem Ende der dreizehnten Jahrhunderts, (History of Poetry and Eloquence from the close of the thirteenth Century,) in which M. Bouterwek has taken an historical and critical survey of the literature of the principal nations of Europe. The work consists of twelve volumes, published at different periods at Göttingen; the first volume having appeared in 1805, and the last, which contains an index to the whole, in 1819.[1] The two volumes now translated are the third and fourth of the German original.

If it be admitted that there remains in English literature a vacant place which ought to be occupied by a work of this kind, it is not apprehended that the means now resorted to for filling up the chasm will be disapproved; at least the translator is not aware that any better source could have been found for supplying the deficiency. In vain, she is persuaded, would any substitute be sought for in French, much as that language abounds in works of criticism. Sismondi in his Litterature du Midi de l’Europe, implicitly adopts the judgments passed by Bouterwek on Spanish and Portuguese literature; and indeed with respect to that part of his subject he says very little of importance that is not directly borrowed from the German critic.[2] The Essai sur la Litterature Espagnole, published in Paris in 1810, and which appears to have been well received by the French public, is a gross plagiarism. It is, with some slight additions, merely the translation of an anonymous English work, entitled, Letters from an English Traveller in Spain, the epistolary form being dropped, and the materials transposed for the purpose of concealing the theft.[3] The work of M. Bouterwek belongs, however, to a superior class. To say that M. Bouterwek has treated his subject with great perspicuity and precision, would be to express only a small portion of his merits. Extensive and laborious as his enquiries have evidently been, his judgment in the management of his materials is still more remarkable than the indefatigable research with which they must have been obtained. He has not confined himself to a mere narrative of the progress and an exemplification of the beauties and deformities of the literature of which he is the historian.—The philosophic spirit which pervades his criticism was not to be circumscribed within such narrow bounds. He seeks in the structure of society, the habits of the people, and the influence of events, for the causes of the intellectual phenomena he has to describe; and he examines with great candour and impartiality the effects of mis-government and arbitrary institutions on poetic genius and literary taste. Impressed with this favourable opinion of the work, the translator has endeavoured to give a true representation of its contents. In undertaking the translation, her wish was to preserve the character of the original, as far as possible, under an English dress. She began the task with an anticipation of its difficulty, and she ends it with a consciousness of the indulgence of which her labours stand in need; but at the same time with the hope that she will not be found to have altogether failed in the object she had in view.

The first of the following volumes is devoted to the history of Spanish, and the second to the history of Portuguese Literature. The subdivisions of the work correspond with periods marked out by certain revolutions in taste, produced by the rise of eminent writers, or by other influential circumstances. These epochs in literary cultivation form convenient resting places for the student, and contribute to exhibit in a clear point of view the circumstances by which the advancement of polite learning has been accelerated or retarded. The specimens, which are numerous, and a great portion of which are selected from very scarce works, cannot fail to prove highly acceptable to the lovers of the literature of Spain and Portugal. For a general and comprehensive knowledge of that literature they will be found amply sufficient, and to those who wish to pursue its study more in detail, they will afford most useful assistance. In such a course of study, great advantage may also be derived from the numerous bibliographical notes which the author has introduced, and which are therefore scrupulously retained in the translation.

The translator at first intended to give literal versions of all the specimens extracted from Spanish and Portuguese authors; but had she persisted in this plan, the translation could not have been completed without augmenting the price of the publication much beyond the rate to which the publishers were of opinion it ought to be limited. To have omitted a part of the extracts in order to give translations of the rest would have been still more improper, for the extracts quoted in the notes are all necessary to the illustration of the text; and besides such a mutilation would have deprived the work of a merit which has just been pointed out, namely, that of supplying sufficient materials for a comprehensive study of the literature of Spain and Portugal. The translator has it, however, in contemplation, to prepare for the press a volume containing translations of the specimens given by M. Bouterwek, and of some other pieces from the Spanish and Portuguese languages. This volume will not form a mere appendix to the volumes now published; an endeavour will be made to render it useful and entertaining as a separate work.

It is necessary to observe, that the History of Italian Literature, which is sometimes referred to in the notes, is a part of M. Bouterwek’s General History of Poetry and Eloquence. It forms the two first volumes of the German work; some other parts of which the translator will be prepared to send to the press, should the merits of the original procure from the public a favourable reception for these volumes on Spanish and Portuguese Literature.

Notwithstanding that the translator had considerable assistance in reading and revising the proofs, she regrets to find that still further correction would have been desirable. Fortunately, however, there are few errors in the Spanish and Portuguese extracts; and those which do occur in the English text, will be found to be in general of a literal or obvious nature, altogether incapable of misleading the intelligent reader. Of the mistakes of the press which have been observed, tables of errata are made. If there are others, the translator is confident, that the persons who are the best able to correct such faults, will be the most ready to pardon them.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.
VOL. I.

INTRODUCTION.
GENERAL VIEW OF THE ORIGIN OF ROMANTIC POETRY AND ELOQUENCE, IN THE KINGDOMS OF SPAIN AND PORTUGAL.

When modern refinement began, during the thirteenth century, to emerge from the rudeness of the middle ages, that part of Europe which geographers have called the Pyrenean Peninsula, and which, according to its present political division, forms Spain and Portugal, contained four Christian kingdoms and some Mahometan principalities, to which the title of kingdom has also been given. More than five hundred years had elapsed since the battle of Xerez de la Frontera;[4] and the Moors, who, by the result of that conflict, obtained the dominion of the greater part of Spain and Portugal, had, by the repeated victories of the Christians, been, in their turn, driven back to the southern extremity of the country, and were obviously not destined to maintain themselves much longer even in that quarter.

During these five centuries of almost uninterrupted warfare between the race of Moorish Arabs and the Christians of ancient European descent, both parties, notwithstanding that their reciprocal hostility was influenced by fanaticism, had unconsciously approximated in mind and in manners. The intervals of repose, which formed short links in the chain of their sanguinary conflicts, afforded them some opportunities for the interchange of the arts of peace, and they were soon taught to feel for each other that involuntary respect which the brave can never withhold from brave adversaries. Love adventures, in which the Moorish knight and Christian lady, or the Christian knight and Moorish lady, respectively participated, could not be of rare occurrence. The Arab, who, in his native deserts, had not been accustomed to impose on women half the despotic restraints to which the sex is subject in the harems of Mahometan cities, was soon disposed to imitate the gallantry of the descendants of the Goths; and still more readily did the imagination of the Christian knight, in a climate which was far from being ungenial, even to African invaders, acquire an oriental loftiness. Thus arose the spirit of Spanish knighthood, which was, in reality, only a particular form of the general chivalrous spirit then prevailing in most of the countries of Europe, but which, under that form, impressed in an equal degree, on the old European Spaniard an oriental, and on the Spanish Moor a European character.

In the first period of this long contest the Arabs carried learning and the arts to a degree of cultivation far beyond any thing known in the Christian parts of Spain. Those wild enthusiasts learned, on the European soil, to estimate the value of civilized life with a rapidity as astonishing as that which distinguished the social improvement of their brethren, whom they had left behind in Asia, under the government of the Caliphs. Before the era of Mahomet, their language had been cultivated and adapted to poetry and eloquence, according to the laws of oriental taste. In Spain, it soon acquired, even among the conquered Christians, the superiority over the barbarous Romance, or dialect of the country, which was then governed by no rule: for in the eighth century, when the Moors penetrated into Spain, the Visigoths, who had been masters of the territory since the fifth century, were not yet completely intermixed by matrimonial alliances with the Provincials, or descendants of the Roman subjects; and the new national language, which had grown out of a corrupt latin, was still the sport of accident. The conquered Christians, in the provinces under Moorish dominion, soon forgot their Romance. They became, indeed, so habituated to the Arabic, that, according to the testimony of a bishop of Cordova, who lived in the ninth century, out of a thousand Spanish Christians, scarcely one was to be found capable of repeating the latin forms of prayer, while many could express themselves in Arabic with rhetorical elegance, and compose Arabic verses.[5]

But the Christians who had preserved their independence, descending from the mountains of the Asturias, began to repel the invaders, and in proportion as they extended their conquests, a wider field was opened for the Spanish tongue. It remained, nevertheless, long barren and rude, and was destined to receive many additions from the rich and elegant Arabic, before it attained the copiousness requisite for the wants even of common life.

The circumstances, however, under which the dialects of the several provinces existed, did not present those facilities for an improved national language, on the principle of the Italian Volgare illustre, of the age of Dante, which would have enabled a poet of Dante’s genius, had such then arisen in Spain, to form out of them one general literary language for all the Christian states of the Peninsula. It happened, singularly enough, that about the beginning of the thirteenth century, the three principal idioms which were spoken from the coast of the Atlantic to the Pyrenees, and from the Bay of Biscay to the Mediterranean, were represented by three kingdoms perfectly independent of each other. The Castilian prevailed exclusively only in the Castiles and Leon, the latter of which was permanently united to the former in the year 1230. The Portuguese was spoken both by the court and the people of Portugal. In the kingdom of Arragon, the language in general use was the Catalonian, a dialect nearly the same as the Provençal or Limosin of the south of France, but differing greatly both from the Castilian and the Portuguese. This language also extended to the little kingdom of Navarre, but it was there spoken only by the nobles, who were of French or Hispano-Gothic origin. The great body of the population in Navarre spoke the ancient Cantabrian, called Baskian, Vaskian, or Biscayan, and which still exists in the Pyrenees and in the Spanish province of Biscay.

The trouble will be repaid if a glance be now cast on the map, in order to distinguish, with somewhat more precision than is usually thought necessary, the respective domains of the three principal dialects of the Spanish tongue; for it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to form any opinion on the contest maintained between the Spaniards and the Portuguese relative to the value of their respective languages, and the influence which the merits or demerits of these languages have had on the polite literature of both countries, without a knowledge of the geographical boundaries, which, previously to the political divisions, separated the Portuguese from the Castilians, and the latter from the Arragonese. In these questions the Biscayan language is of no consideration, as it has only an accidental and unimportant connexion with the other Spanish dialects, and, besides, bears not the most remote resemblance to them.[6]

The mutilated latin spoken along the Mediterranean on the Spanish shore, from the Pyrenees as far as Murcia, appears to have resolved itself, before the period of the Arabian invasion, into the same language which extended eastward from the Pyrenees through the whole of the south of France to the Italian frontiers, and which, according to the most remarkable of its provincial forms, was called the Catalonian, the Valencian, the Limosin, and the Provençal. Of all the tongues spoken in modern Europe, this language of the coasts was the first cultivated. In it the Troubadours sang, and their lays had all the same character, whether addressed to the Italians, the French, or the Spaniards. From Catalonia it probably spread itself along the chain of the Pyrenees. The kingdom of Arragon became, after the restoration of the Spanish romance in that quarter, its second country; for there both it and the poetry of the Troubadours were particularly favoured by the princes and the nobles. But at the very period of the decline of this poetry, the kingdom of Arragon was united to the Castilian dominions. Another kind of poetry, in the Castilian language, then obtained encouragement, and the seat of the government of the united kingdoms was permanently fixed in Castile. The energetic development of literary talent among the Castilians, the bold romantic character of that people, and that ardent spirit of national pride which prompted them to make the most of all their advantages, soon banished the ancient and in other respects highly esteemed dialect of Arragon, Catalonia, Valencia, and Murcia, from literature, law, and the conversation of the superior classes of society. Finally, towards the middle of the sixteenth century the Castilian became, in the strictest sense of the word, the reigning language of the whole Spanish monarchy.[7]

The Castilian tongue (Lengua Castellana), now called, by way of distinction, the Spanish, doubtless had its origin before the Moorish conquest, in the northern and midland parts of the Peninsula. How far it had originally spread towards the south, it would not now be easy to determine; but it came down from the Asturian mountains with the warriors who boldly undertook to recover the country of their fathers. It first resumed its sway in the kingdoms of Leon and old Castile, where it is still spoken in the greatest purity.[8] It then followed step by step, the fortune of the Castilian arms, until it finally became the established language of the most southern provinces, where its progress had been longest withstood by the Arabic. More recently cultivated than the Catalonian, it cannot be doubted that it owes to that dialect a part of its improvement; but the elevated expression of its long full-toned words, soon stamped on it the character of quite a different kind of romance. The abbreviation of the latin words which gave the Catalonian language a striking resemblance to the French, was not agreeable to the genius of the Castilian, which, in consequence of its clear sonorous vowels and the beautiful articulation of its syllables, had, of all the idioms of the Peninsula, the greatest affinity to the Italian. Amidst the euphony of the Castilian syllables, the ear is however struck with the sound of the German and Arabic guttural, which is rejected by all the other nations that speak languages in which the latin predominates.[9]

The romance, out of which the present Portuguese language has grown, was probably spoken along the coast of the Atlantic long before a kingdom of Portugal was founded. Though far more nearly allied to the Castilian dialect than to the Catalonian, it resembles the latter in the remarkable abbreviation of words, both in the grammatical structure and in the pronunciation. At the same time it is strikingly distinguished from the Castilian by the total rejection of the guttural, by the great abundance of its hissing sounds, and by a nasal pronunciation common to no people in Europe except the French and the Portuguese. In the Spanish province of Galicia, only politically separated from Portugal, this dialect known under the name of Lingoa Gallega is still as indigenous as in Portugal itself, and was at an early period, so highly esteemed, that Alphonso X. king of Castile, surnamed the Wise, (El Sabio,) composed verses in it. But the Galician modification of this dialect of the western shores of the Peninsula has sunk, like the Catalonian romance of the opposite coast, into a mere provincial idiom, in consequence of the language of the Castilian court being adopted by the higher classes in Galicia.[10] Indeed the Portuguese language, which in its present state of improvement must no longer be confounded with the popular idiom of Galicia, would have experienced great difficulty in obtaining a literary cultivation, had not Portugal, which, even in the twelfth century, formed an independent kingdom, constantly vied in arts and in arms with Castile, and during the sixty years of her union with Spain, from 1580 to 1640, zealously maintained her particular national character.[11]

After accurately distinguishing these three principal idioms of the Romance, which formed the early spoken and written language of the Peninsula,[12] it will be more readily perceived why the Catalonian and Limosin poetry could not maintain itself in competition with the Spanish and Portuguese, which were of more recent growth, and why the poetry of Spain and that of Portugal have, from their first rise, preserved nearly the same character and passed through the same periods of splendour and decay. The Catalonian poetry was, from its origin, inseparably united with the language of the Troubadours, throughout its territories, from the Italian to the Castilian frontiers. While the Cours d’Amour, the festal meetings, and various other gallant exhibitions prevailed, in which the Gaya Ciencia, or Joyous Art, of these bards of love and chivalry flourished, and in which the bards themselves bore a brilliant part as masters of the ceremonies, the language and the poetry gave reciprocal importance to each other. When, however, the romantic spirit had exhausted itself in these modes, when another sort of gallantry came into vogue, and finally, when a more cultivated style of poetry, entirely new to Spain, was introduced from Italy, and propagated with the Castilian language, the poets of Catalonia, Arragon, and Valencia began to write verses in the new manner, and to disown their mother tongue in their compositions. This literary phenomenon, which has its epoch only in the sixteenth century, cannot be attributed to political dependence alone; for hitherto the ancient national poetry of the Castilians had continued foreign to the inhabitants of the Arragonian provinces, individual imitators excepted, even after these provinces were united with the Castiles. But when the Arragonese, in their zeal to vie with the Castilians in the reform of their ancient poetry, began to write verses in the Castilian language, their success was facilitated by the relationship which had long subsisted between the old Provençal poetry, the sister of the Limosin, and the Italian, which in the sixteenth century became the model of the Spanish and Portuguese.[13]

The ancient Castilian poetry was as closely allied to the Portuguese and the Galician, as it was distinctly separated from the Limosin. The Troubadours had, it is true, chaunted their lays at the courts of Castile and Portugal, but the national taste in both kingdoms preferred different accents, other metrical combinations, and was accustomed to quite another kind of poetry of its own creation. No Troubadours were needed in these countries; for the common national poetry, which was unknown to the Arragonian provinces, formed a connecting tie for the Castilians, Portuguese, and Galicians, as it was the faithful mirror of their genius and character. However much the Castilians might dislike the Portuguese tongue, and the Portuguese, in their turn, the Castilian, their poetry continued essentially the same; and the languages of both countries deviated, at all times, far more from the Limosin romance, than ever they differed from each other. Besides, the old Galician idiom, which was scarcely distinguishable from the old Portuguese,[14] was originally a favourite with the Castilians; and when it ceased to be a literary language, the political conflicts of the Spaniards and the Portuguese did not destroy the poetical harmony of the two nations. The Castilians, indeed, constantly maintained the opinion, that the Portuguese language was incapable of giving appropriate expression to heroic sentiments; but the Portuguese contradicted this assertion, not merely by words, but by deeds.[15]

The old Castilian, Portuguese, and Galician poetry was, under its own peculiar forms, still more popular and strictly national than was the Provençal, or than the Italian after it has ever been. It was not destined to be recited in courtly circles, before lords and ladies. It arose amidst the clang of arms, and was fostered by constantly reiterated relations of warlike feats and love adventures, transmitted from mouth to mouth; while almost every one who either witnessed or participated in those feats and adventures, wished to give them traditional circulation in the vehicle of easy verse. So common was the practice among all ranks of composing verses, particularly in Portugal, that the historian, Manuel de Faria y Sousa, thought himself, at a later period, justified in calling every mountain in that country a Parnassus, and every fountain a Hippocrene.[16] The poems called Romances took their name from the national language; and it is probable that the same name was at first given to all kinds of amatory and heroic ballads, the taste for which, however rapidly those productions increased and supplanted each other, appears to have been insatiable. To mark with critical precision the limits of the different species of poetic composition, was never contemplated by the authors of the Romances, but they very carefully distinguished, in their national verse, several kinds of measure and forms of rhyme, which differed widely from the Provençal and Limosin; and having touched on this subject, it will, perhaps, be most convenient here to introduce a brief description of the nature of the verse common to the ancient Castilian, Portuguese, and Galician poetry.

Of the metrical compositions common to the ancient Castilians and Portuguese, the most peculiarly national were the REDONDILLAS. All verses, consisting of four trochaic feet, appear to have been originally comprehended under the name of redondillas,[17] which, however, came at length to be, in preference, usually applied to one particular species of this description of verse. To a people so romantic and chivalrous, and at the same time so fond of their national poetry, as the Spaniards and Portuguese, nothing could be more agreeable than verses of this sort, which, in languages such as theirs, could be composed on the spur of the occasion, and which to the charm of simplicity add the beauty of a sonorous harmony.[18] It is difficult to suppose that the redondillas have been formed in imitation of bisected hexameters, as some Spanish authors have imagined.[19] They may, with more probability, be considered a relic of the songs of the Roman soldiers, which were doubtless often heard in these countries, and which must have left recollections, the impressions of which would be easily communicated by the romanized natives to their conquerors, the Visigoths.[20] In such verses, every individual could, without restraint, pour forth the feelings which love and gallantry dictated, accompanied by his guitar; as little attention was paid to correctness in the distinction of long and short syllables as in the rhyme. When one of the poetic narratives, distinguished by the name of Romances, was sung, line followed line without constraint, the expression flowing with careless freedom, as feeling gave it birth. When, however, romantic sentiments were to be clothed in a popular lyric dress, to exhibit the playful turns of the ideas under still more pleasing forms, it was found advantageous to introduce divisions and periods, which gave rise to regular strophes (estancias and coplas). Lines were, for the sake of variety, shortened by halving them; and thus the tender and impressive melody of the rhythm was sometimes considerably heightened. Seduced by the example of the Arabs, something excellent was supposed to be accomplished when a single sonorous and unvarying rhyme was rendered prominent throughout all the verses of a long romance.[21] Through other romances, however, pairs of rhymeless verses were allowed to glide amidst a variety of rhymed ones. At length, at a later period, it was observed, that in point of elegance, the redondilla was improved, rather than injured by the change which was produced; when, instead of perfect rhymes, imperfect ones, or sounds echoing vowels but not consonants, were heard in the terminating syllables. Hence arose the distinction between consonant and assonant verses, which has been cultivated into a rhythmical beauty unknown to other nations.[22] Thus varied, and yet ever simple, the redondilla has been still more valuable to Spanish and Portuguese versification, than the hexameter was to the poetry of Greece and Rome. It has even become the prevailing measure of dramatic poetry.

The period of the invention of the redondillas was also nearly that of the dactylic stanzas, called versos de arte mayor, because their composition was considered an art of a superior order. They had their origin, according to some authorities, in Galicia and Portugal.[23] This metrical form is, however, found in several of the most ancient Castilian poems. As the inventors of these stanzas were ignorant of the true principles of prosody, the attention paid to purity in the rhythm of the dactyles was even less than in the rhymes of the redondillas. They contented themselves with dealing out eleven or twelve syllables, and left the dactylic measure to accident. This may account for these verses falling into disuse, as the progressive improvement of taste, which allowed the redondillas to maintain their original consideration, was not reconcilable with the half dancing, half hobbling rhymed lines of the versos de arte mayor.[24]

Besides the above national modes of rhythm and rhyme, common to Castilians, Galicians, and Portuguese, the form of the sonnet was also known in the west of Spain and Portugal long before the imitation of Italian poetry was thought of in those parts of the Peninsula. It had doubtless been acquired through the intervention of Provençal and Limosin poets. But the character of the sonnet was not sufficiently popular for the old Spaniards and Portuguese, and they were never fond of that kind of poetic composition. Not less adverse to the taste of the country was the long protracted alexandrine. Monkish rhymesters, who forced their imitations of latin doggrels on the nation, introduced this kind of verse into the Spanish language, in the thirteenth or perhaps even in the twelfth century, but certainly at a period anterior to its appearance in any other modern tongue. It soon, however, sunk into disesteem, and was neglected.

Thus, during the progress of their civilization, the Spaniards and the Portuguese co-operated in cultivating the same spirit and form of poetry. What is, notwithstanding, dissimilar in the polite literature of the two countries, and what is peculiar to each, will, with other subjects, become matter for consideration in the following sheets.

HISTORY
OF
SPANISH LITERATURE.

BOOK I.
FROM THE END OF THE THIRTEENTH TO THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

PROBABLE PERIOD OF THE FIRST ROMANCES.

The origin of Castilian poetry is lost in the obscurity of the middle ages. The poetic spirit which then awoke in the north of Spain, doubtless first manifested itself in romances and popular songs. Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, called El Campeador, (the Champion), and still better known by the Arabic title of the Cid, (the Lord or Leader), assisted in founding the kingdom of Castile for his prince, Ferdinand I. about the year 1036, and the name and the exploits of that favorite hero of the nation were probably celebrated during his own age in imperfect redondillas. That some of the many romances which record anecdotes of the life of the Cid may be the offspring of that period, is a conjecture which, to say the least of it, has never been disproved; and indeed the whole character impressed upon Spanish poetry from its rise, denotes that the era which gave birth to the first songs of chivalry must be very remote. In the form, however, in which these romances now exist, it does not appear that even the oldest can be referred to the twelfth, far less to the eleventh century.[25]

POEMA DEL CID.

Some examples of Old Castilian verse, which are held to be more ancient than any known romance or ballad in that language, have been preserved.[26] Of these the rhymed chronicle, Of the Exile and Return of the Cid, (Poema del Cid, el Campeador), is considered the oldest. This chronicle can scarcely be called a poem; and that it could not have been the result of a poetic essay made in the spirit of the national taste, is evident, from the nature of the verse, which is a kind of rude alexandrine. It is the more difficult to speak with any certainty respecting its age, as there also exists a very old prose account of the Cid, which corresponds in all the principal facts with this rhymed chronicle. Though it may be true that the author lived about the middle of the twelfth century, as his editor Sanchez supposes, still it is not with this work that the history of Spanish poetry ought to commence. As a philological curiosity, the rhymed chronicle is highly valuable; but any thing like poetry which it contains must be considered as a consequence of the poetic character of the nation to which the versifier belonged, and of the internal interest of the subject. The events are narrated in the order in which they succeed each other, and the whole work scarcely exhibits a single mark of invention. The small portion of poetical colouring with which the dryness of the relation is occasionally relieved, is the result of the chivalrous cordiality of the writer’s tone, and of a few happy traits in the description of some of the situations.[27]

POEMA DE ALEXANDRO MAGNO.

Still less of the character of poetry belongs to the fabulous chronicle of Alexander the Great (Poema de Alexandro Magno), respecting the origin and age of which the Spanish critics are far from being agreed. Whether it be, as some pretend, a Spanish original of the twelfth or thirteenth century, or as others assert, the translation of a French work of the same age, in verse, or, what is still more probable, a versified translation of a latin legend, with the manufacture of which some monk had occupied his solitary hours, are questions which a writer of the history of Spanish poetry cannot, with propriety, stop to discuss, even though alexandrine verse should, as some suppose, have taken its name from this chronicle. Next to stringing together his rhymes,[28] the chief object of the author probably was to dress the biography of Alexander the Great in the costume of chivalry. Accordingly he relates how the Infante Alexander, whose birth was distinguished by numerous prodigies, seemed, while yet a youth a Hercules; how he was taught to read in his seventh year; how he then every day learned a lesson in the seven liberal arts, and maintained a daily disputation thereon; and many other wonders of this sort.[29] Alexander’s officers are counts and barons. The real history only feebly glimmers through a grotesque compound of puerile fictions and distorted facts. But perhaps this mode of treating the materials is not to be laid to the account of the versifier.

GONZALO BERCEO.

There are some prayers, monastic rules, and legends in Castilian alexandrines, which are regarded as of very ancient date, but they were probably composed by Gonzalo Berceo, a benedictine, about the middle of the thirteenth century. Spanish authors have made the dates of the birth and death of this monk objects of very minute research, and have exerted great industry in recovering his rude verses.[30] In this field, however, the poetical historian can find nothing worth the gleaning.

ALPHONSO X.; HIS LITERARY MERITS—NICOLAS AND ANTONIO DE LOS ROMANCES, &c.

The names of several early writers of rude Castilian verse are recorded by different authors. A notice, however, of the literary merits of Alphonso X. called the Wise, by which is meant the learned, forms the most suitable commencement for a history of Spanish poetry. This sovereign, who was a very extraordinary man, for the age in which he lived, was ambitious, among his other distinctions, of being a poet. Scarcely any romance or song of true poetic feeling can be attributed to him; but he loved to embody his science and learning in verse. He disclosed his Alchymical Secrets in the dactylic stanzas, called versos de arte mayor. Alchymy was his favourite study; and if his assertions in verse may be relied on, he several times made gold, and in times of difficulty turned his power of producing that precious metal to his own advantage. His verses are, in some degree, harmonious, and ingeniously constructed; but no trait of poetic description enlivens the dry and uninteresting precepts he details.[31] It is not, therefore, on account of his rhymes that Alphonso the Wise deserves to be placed at the head of the Castilian poets. His claim to occupy that station can only be founded on the attention he devoted to the cultivation of the Castilian language, an attention which is easily recognized even in his unpoetic verses, and which could not fail to prove a most powerful incitement to emulation, since he who set the example was the king of the country, and possessed a reputation for learning which was flattering to the national pride. The greater purity and precision which was thus introduced into the dialect of Castile and Leon, enabled the poetic genius of the nation to unfold itself with increasing vigour and freedom. But the benefits which Alphonso conferred on the Spanish language and literature, did not stop here. The bible was, by his command, rendered into Castilian; and a Paraphrase of Scripture History accompanied the translation. A General Chronicle of Spain, and a History of the Conquest of the Holy Land, founded on the work of William of Tyre, were also written by his order. Finally, he introduced the use of the national language into legal and judicial proceedings. No direct interest was, however, taken by Alphonso in the improvement of the popular Castilian poetry. He probably thought it too destitute of art and learning to deserve much consideration. It appears to have been on this account, and not from vanity, that he favoured the Troubadours, assembled at his court, in whose more elegant verse his praises were unceasingly proclaimed.[32] His influence had an extensive operation; but his death, which happened in the year 1284, was no loss to the national bards of Castile, who still sung their Romances in obscurity.

The history of Spanish poetry continues barren of names until towards the end of the fourteenth century; and yet, according to all literary probability, the greater part of the ancient Castilian romances, which have, in the progress of time, been collected, and have undergone more or less improvement, were composed at a much earlier period. One Nicolas, and an abbot named Antonio, are mentioned as celebrated writers of romances in the thirteenth century, anterior to the reign of Alphonso X.[33] But until the period of the invention of printing, no regard was paid by the learned, or by those who wished to be considered learned, to popular ballads; and when the attention of men of letters began at last to be directed to the old romances, the authors were either forgotten, or no trouble was taken to preserve or recover their names. With a view, therefore, to the convenience of historical arrangement, a particular account of the ancient romance poetry of Castile may, with propriety, be postponed until the period when the first instance of literary publicity, which was given to it, must be recorded. In the mean while, some little known, though not unimportant memorials of the state of poetical and rhetorical culture in the fourteenth century, may here be brought to recollection.

ALPHONSO XI.

That the example of Alphonso X. operated powerfully among the grandees of Castile, cannot be doubted; and to its influence must, in a great measure, be attributed the encouragement given to the cultivation of knowledge by Alphonso XI. This prince, amidst all the troubles of his busy reign, maintained the character of a protector of learning, and endeavoured to distinguish himself as a writer in his native tongue. In the accounts of his labours given by Spanish authors, he is stated to have composed a General Chronicle in Redondillas,[34] which is either lost, or still remains buried in some of the old archives of Spain. However slight may be the merits of this work, in a poetical point of view, it is rendered interesting by the circumstance, that the king chose for the rhythmic structure of his narrative, the easy flowing verse of the romances, instead of stiff monkish alexandrines, and the ungraceful dactylic stanzas. This brought the redondillas more into favour. Alphonso XI. also caused books to be written in Castilian prose, among which were a kind of Peerage, or Register of the noble families of Castile, with an account of their hereditary estates and possessions, and a Hunting Book, (Libro de Monteria,) in the composition of which several persons assisted. Though rhetorical art might derive no advantage from these books, they contributed to give consideration to the national dialect, and to incite persons of rank to engage in literary labour.

EARLY CULTIVATION OF CASTILIAN PROSE—DON JUAN MANUEL; HIS CONDE LUCANOR; HIS ROMANCES.

But the most valuable monument of the cultivation of Spanish eloquence in the fourteenth century is El Conde Lucanor, a book of moral and political maxims, written by Don Juan Manuel, a Castilian prince. This Don Juan was one of the most distinguished men of his age.[35] He was descended, in a collateral line with the reigning family of Castile, from king Ferdinand III. usually called the Saint. He served his sovereign Alphonso XI. with chivalrous fidelity, and by the judicious policy of his conduct, retained the favour of that prince, who certainly had reason to regard him with jealousy. After distinguishing himself by a number of honourable and gallant deeds, Alphonso appointed him governor (adelantado mayor) of the country bordering on the Moorish kingdom of Grenada. In this station he became the terror of the hereditary enemy of Castile. He made an irruption into Grenada, and defeated the Moorish king in a great battle. After this brilliant victory, he always acted one of the first parts in the internal troubles of Castile, and during twenty years conducted the war against the Moors. He died in 1362, leaving behind him some of the ripest fruits of his experience in his Count Lucanor. A Spanish book, so full of sound practical good sense, of a character so truly unostentatious, and clothed in a simple, homely, but far from inanimate garb, could scarcely be expected to belong to the fourteenth century. In estimating the merit of this work, it ought also to be recollected, that at the period in which it appeared, the taste for the wild tales of chivalry called romances had begun to prevail. Amadis de Gaul, the prototype of all subsequent knight-errantry romances, had then obtained general circulation. There is, however, in the Count Lucanor, no trace of romantic extravagance, none of the dreaming flights of an irregular imagination; for in every passage of the book the author shews himself a man of the world and an observer of human nature. In the course of his long experience he had formed maxims for the conduct of life which he was desirous of pursuing. He gave to many of these axioms a laconic expression in verse; and, to impress them the more forcibly, invented his Count Lucanor, a prince conscious of too limited an understanding to trust to his own judgment in cases of difficulty. He gives the Count a minister (consejero), whose wisdom fortunately supplies the deficiency of his master’s intellect. When the Count asks advice of his minister, the latter relates a story, or sometimes a fable. The application comes at the close, and the narrative is the commentary of the verse or couplet with which it terminates. In this manner forty-nine moral and political tales are told. They are not of equal merit; but though some are inferior to others, the difference is not great, and they have all the same rhetorical form. Sometimes it is the idea that gives the chief interest, sometimes the execution. Among the versified maxims are the following.

“If you have done something good in little, do it also in great, as the good will never die.”[36]

“He who advises you to be reserved to your friends, wishes to betray you without witnesses.”[37]

“Hazard not your wealth on a poor man’s advice.”[38]

“He who has got a good seat should not leave it.”[39]

“He who praises you for what you have not, wishes to take from you what you have.”[40]

This last axiom is deduced from the well-known fable of the fox and the raven. It is curious to observe the resemblance between the unconscious artless simplicity with which Don Juan Manuel relates his fable, and the finely-studied simplicity with which the elegant La Fontaine tells the same story. Who would expect to find in an old Spanish book of the fourteenth century, the same knowledge of the world and mankind, as distinguished the refined age of Louis XIV.[41]

This work appears to have been preserved without alteration, as it was originally written. It is only occasionally that the difference of the language in single words,[42] betrays the officious industry of some transcriber. In a short preface, the author gives a candid explanation of the object of this collection of tales.

Don Juan Manuel was also the author of a Chronicle (Chronica de España); the Book of the Sages, (Libro de los Sabios); a Book of Chivalry, (Libro del Caballero); and several other works in prose of a similar nature.[43] It appears that these works are now lost, though they were preserved in manuscript in the sixteenth century. A collection of Don Juan Manuel’s poems also existed at that time, according to the express testimony of Argote y Molina, who published El Conde Lucanor in the sixteenth century, and intended to publish those poems likewise. He calls them coplas; and they certainly were not alexandrines. After this testimony, it can scarcely be doubted that some of the romances and songs, which are attributed, in the Cancionero general, to a Don Juan Manuel, have this prince for their author.[44] But if such be the fact, then how many of the similar romances which are still preserved, may, considering the greater antiquity of their form, be yet more ancient!

SATIRICAL POEM OF JUAN RUYZ, ARCH-PRIEST OF HITA.

Don Juan Manuel had for his contemporary the author of an allegorical satire, written in Castilian alexandrines, or in a kind of verse which may be called doggrel. The result of the researches of the Spanish critics ascribes this very singular work to Juan Ruiz, arch-priest of Hita, in Castile.[45] This writer evidently possessed a lively imagination; he has personified with great drollery Lent, the Carnival, and Breakfast, under the titles of Doña Quaresma, Don Carnal, and Don Almuerzo; and these and other personages are placed in a very edifying connection with Don Amor. The object of the satire is thus apparent, but the execution is as unskilful as the language is rude. Only a part of the work has been preserved.[46]

He, however, who has to record the developement of true poetic genius, must hasten from this and other examples of monastic humour and rugged versification, in order to speak with something like historical precision of the romances and other lyric compositions which form the real commencement of Spanish poetry.

MORE PRECISE ACCOUNT OF THE ORIGIN OF THE SPANISH POETIC ROMANCES AND SONGS—PROBABLE RISE OF THE ROMANCES OF CHIVALRY IN PROSE—ORIGINAL RELATIONSHIP OF THE POETIC AND THE PROSE ROMANCES.

The latter half of the fourteenth century is the period when the history of the Spanish romances and songs, the unknown authors of which yet live in their verse, though still very defective, begins to acquire some degree of certainty.[47] In the absence, however, of that particular information which would be desirable, it becomes necessary to take a view of the manner of thinking of the Spaniards of that age, in order to connect the general idea which ought to be formed of their literary culture, with those scattered notices which must supply the place of a more systematic account. It will here be recollected that the cultivation of Spanish literature received at its commencement a national poetic impulse. In constant conflict with the Moors, and acquainted with oriental manners and compositions, the Spaniards felt the proper distinction between poetry and prose, less readily than that distinction was perceived by any other people on the first attempt to give a determinate form to their literature. Popular songs of every kind were probably indigenous in the Peninsula. The patriotic Spaniards, like many other ancient nations, were fond of preserving the memory of remarkable events in ballads. They also began, at a very early period, to consider it of importance to record public transactions in prose. The example of their learned king Alphonso X. who caused a collection of old national chronicles to be made, gave birth to many similar compilations of the history of the country. But historical criticism, and the historical art, were then equally unknown. As the giving to an accredited fact a poetical dress in a song fit to be sung to a guitar, was not thought inconsistent with the spirit of genuine national history, still less could the relating of a fabricated story as a real event in history seem hostile to the spirit of poetry. Thus the historical romance in verse, and the chivalric romance in prose, derived their origin from the confounding of the limits of epic and historical composition. The history of Spanish poetical romance is therefore intimately interwoven with the history of the prose chivalric romance.

Whoever may have been the author of Amadis de Gaul, his genius lives in his invention; this work soon obscured, even in France, all the other histories of knights-errant written in latin or french, by many of which it had been preceded. From the very careful investigations of several Spanish and Portuguese writers, it appears that the name of the real author of the first or genuine Amadis was Vasco Lobeira, or, according to the Spanish orthography and pronunciation, Lobera, a native of Portugal, who flourished about the end of the thirteenth century, and lived to 1325. It is probable, however, that before the period at which the work obtained its highest celebrity both in Spain and France, it had passed through the hands of several emendators, and it is therefore impossible to know how much of the book, as it now exists, belongs to the original author, and how far it is indebted to the labours of Spanish or French editors.[48] From these circumstances too, it appears that the work could scarcely be generally known in Spain before the middle of the fourteenth century; and its influence on the national literature must, on that account, have been the greater; for it would be operating with all the force of novelty, precisely at the time when the poetic genius of the nation began to display itself in youthful vigour. What other book could have produced an effect so fascinating on the minds of the Spanish nobles, as Amadis de Gaul? The monstrous perversions of history and geography in that work, did not disturb the illusion of readers who knew little or nothing of either history or geography. The prolixity of the narrative gave as little offence as the stiff formality of the style. Indeed the virtues of gothic chivalry appear more pure as they shine through the formal stateliness of the narration. The author has borrowed nothing from the Arabian tale-tellers, except the attraction of fairy machinery. This was, however, a powerful charm, and gave an epic-colouring to the Amadis, which, joined to the pathetic descriptions of romantic heroism, produced an influence over the imagination and feelings of the age which no former work had possessed. The moral character of the plan and execution is strangely blended with a peculiar kind of delicately veiled licence, which appears to have very well accorded with the spirit of Spanish chivalry. While the gentle knights, amidst innumerable adventures of love and heroism, observe as the chief law of chivalry, the most inviolable fidelity in all situations towards females as well as males, they and the ladies with whom they have pledged their faith, by a secret betrothing, live together without scruple before marriage, as husband and wife. But a picture, so true and glowing, of the noblest heroic feelings and the most unshaken fidelity,—circumscribing with no anxious care the boundaries of love’s dominion, yet admitting no offensively indecorous or immoral trait,—displaying the enthusiastic flights of an imagination often exalted beyond nature, but redeemed by an ingenuous simplicity of description with which even a refined taste must be delighted,—well deserved at the time of its appearance that favour which it continued for ages to enjoy. It is obvious that more of Spanish than of French features enter into the character of the chivalry exhibited in this work. The romantic self-torment of Amadis on the Peña pobre (barren rock) is one of the striking Spanish traits. Even the name Beltenebros, given on this occasion by a pious hermit to the disconsolate knight, contributes to prove that the work is not of French origin; for the French paraphrastic translation, Le beau tenebreux, is not only in itself very insipid, but poor Amadis appears quite ridiculous when made to pronounce it from his own mouth as his name.[49]

When the Amadis, after being widely circulated, became the object of numerous imitations, the particular account of which may be left to the explorers of literary curiosities, it was no longer possible for the prose romance of knight-errantry and the ballad romance to disown their relationship. At this period the romance poetry obtained a consideration which it had not previously enjoyed. Songs which were formerly disregarded were now carefully noted down. Those poetic romances, the materials for which are taken from histories of knights-errant, are among the oldest of the Spanish ballads which have been preserved in the ancient language and form. Some are imitations from the Spanish Amadis, others are translations from the French; and it may here be observed, that the Spaniards and the French possessed at this period a body of romantic literature, which was throughout its whole extent nearly the same to both countries.—With the old poetic romances, derived from books of chivalry, are closely connected the most ancient of the historical ballads founded on the history of the country. The latter, it may be presumed, soon transferred their national tone and character into the former. But it was not until after they had given to each other a reciprocal support, that the historical romance found a place in Spanish literature. They also mutually declined from the height of their common celebrity, and at last sunk again into the obscurity attached to pieces of mere popular recreation. In this way, however, they have retained an oral currency among the common people down to the present age. The Spanish critics notice them too briefly, as if they were afraid to depreciate the dignity of their literature by dwelling on the antiquated and homely effusions of the poetic genius of their unlettered ancestors. But a people free from this prejudice who can admire simple and natural, as well as learned and artificial poetry, and who set little or no value on the latter, when it entirely separates itself from the former, will be disposed to see justice more impartially distributed to the old Spanish romances.[50]

THE DIFFERENT KINDS OF POETIC ROMANCE.

The romances composed on subjects derived from the fictions of chivalry, which have been preserved in the collections, are distinguished by the old forms of the language, and the primitive mode of repeating a single rhyme, which often becomes a mere assonance, from the romances of a later date, though even these have long since been called old. Amadis de Gaul appears to have contributed very little to this kind of ballad.[51] The great number and the longest of the romances are taken from the fabulous adventures of Charlemagne and his Paladins. In them we again meet with the twelve peers of France, who figure in the poems of Boyardo and Ariosto, with the addition of Don Gayferos, the Moor Calaynos, and other poetic characters, to whom the Spanish public were the more readily disposed to grant an historical existence, in consequence of the chivalric history of Charlemagne’s Paladins (who are represented to have fought like the Spaniards against the Moors,) being held in great respect as a supplemental part of Spanish National History. In progress of time, however, the romance of the Moor Calaynos became the subject of a proverb, employed to denote verses in an old exploded and vulgar style.[52] The ballad of the Conde Alarcos, who with his own hands strangled his lady in satisfaction to the honour, and in obedience to the commands of his king, appears to have had its origin in some romantic work of chivalry. This and two other romances which relate how the youthful Don Gayferos avenged the death of his father, are among the best to which knight-errantry has given birth; though in the remaining specimens of this kind of ballad, the poetic genius of the age occasionally displays itself in all its energetic simplicity. The authors of these romances paid little regard to ingenuity of invention, and still less to correctness of execution. When an impressive story of poetical character was found, the subject and the interest belonging to it were seized with so much truth and feeling, that the parts of the little piece, the brief labour of untutored art, linked themselves together, as it were, spontaneously; and the imagination of the bard had no higher office than to give to the situations a suitable colouring and effect. This he performed without study or effort, and painted them more or less successfully according to the inspiration, good or bad, of the moment. These antique, racy effusions of a pregnant poetic imagination, scarcely conscious of its own productive power, are nature’s genuine offspring. To recount their easily recognized defects and faults is as superfluous, as it would be impossible by any critical study to imitate a single trait of that noble simplicity which constitutes their highest charm.[53]

The simplicity of the old historical romances is still more remarkable. They form altogether a mere collection of anecdotes of Spanish history, from the invasion of the Moors, to the period when the authors of the romances flourished. Neither the materials nor the interest of the situations owe any thing to the invention of these simple bards. They never ventured to embellish with fictitious circumstances, stories which were already in themselves interesting, lest they should deprive their ballads of historical credit. In the historical romances the story displays none of those entanglements and developements which distinguish some of the longer romances of chivalry. They are simple pictures of single situations only. The poetic representation of the details which give effect to the situation is almost the only merit which can be attributed to the narrators, and they employed no critical study to obtain it. In this way were thousands of these romances destined to be composed, and partly preserved, partly forgotten, without one of their authors acquiring the reputation of a great poet. It was regarded rather as an instance of good fortune than a proof of talent, when the author of a romance was particularly successful in painting an interesting situation. In general their efforts did not carry them beyond mediocrity, but mediocrity was not discouraged, for it depended entirely on accident, or perhaps some secondary causes, whether a romance became popular or sunk into oblivion. It would require a separate treatise to discuss in a satisfactory manner, the degree of merit which belongs to these national ballads, the immense number of which defies calculation. Many little, and upon the whole very unimportant specimens are still worthy of preservation, on account of some one single trait which each exhibits. Others, on the contrary, excite attention by the happy combination of a number of traits in themselves minute and of little value; again, a third class is distinguished by a sonorous rhythm not to be found in the rest. Unfortunately, no literary critic has yet taken the trouble to arrange these pieces in anything like a chronological order. Until this be done, it cannot be discovered how the historical romance gradually advanced from its original rudeness to the degree of relative beauty which it at last attained, though it could not rise to classic perfection, as that kind of composition never acquired the rank or consideration of classic poetry in Spain.

Among the most ancient historical romances are several, the subjects of which have been taken from the earliest periods of Spanish history, anterior to the age of the Cid. Like the romances derived from the prose works of chivalry, they have only a single rhyme which interchanges with blank verse, and which is frequently lost in a simple assonance.[54] The romances of the Cid, of which more than a hundred still exist, are either of a more recent date, or have, at least, been in a great measure modernized.[55] In some a series of regularly arranged assonances may be perceived.[56] Others are divided into stanzas, with a burden repeated at the close of each.[57] In the greater part, however, the rhyme almost wholly disappears, and only an accidental assonance occasionally occurs. This form also prevails in most of the romances founded on the history of the Moors. Their number is very great, perhaps greater than that of those derived from events of Spanish history; and this abundance might well excite as much astonishment in the critic as it has given offence to some orthodox Spaniards.[58] But even the Spaniards of old Castilian origin found a certain poetic charm in the oriental manners of the Moors. On the other hand, the European chivalry, in so far as it was adopted by the Moors, became more imposing from its union with oriental luxury, which favoured the display of splendid armour, waving plumes, and emblematical ornaments of every kind. The Moorish principalities or kingdoms were even more agitated by internal troubles, and acts of violence, than the christian states; and in the former, particularly, when different races powerfully opposed each other, the lives of celebrated warriors were more fertile in interesting anecdotes than in the latter. The Christian warriors, it also appears, had sufficient generosity to allow justice to be done, at least to the distinguished leaders of their enemies, who are described in an old romance, as gentlemen, though infidels.[59] Besides, all these romances, whether of Moorish or Spanish history, whether more ancient or more modern, present nearly the same unsophisticated character and the same artless style of composition. The subject is generally founded on a single fact. Thus, for example, Roderick, or Don Rodrigo, the last king of the Goths in Spain, before the Moorish invasion, takes flight after his total overthrow, and bewails his own and his country’s fate; and this is sufficient for a romance.[60] The Cid returns victorious from his exile, alights from his horse before a church, and delivers a short energetic speech; this again forms the whole subject of a romance.[61] In others, with equal simplicity of story:— the king joins the hands of the Cid and Ximena, invests him with fiefs of castles and territories, the names of which are all recorded, and thus makes preparation for the marriage of the lovers.—The Cid lays aside his armour and puts on his wedding garments, which are minutely described from the hat to the boots.—At a tournament the Moorish knight Ganzul enters the lists on a fiery steed; the beautiful Zayda, who has been unfaithful to him, once more yields up her heart to her lover, and confesses to the Moorish ladies who surround her the emotion she experiences.[62]—The Moorish hero Abenzulema, who has filled the prisons with Christian knights,[63] being exiled by his jealous prince, takes leave of his beloved Balaja.[64] Such is the nature of a countless number of these ballads. In general, the ornaments of the armour, and the device of the knight, which must harmonize with these ornaments, are minutely described. Were an artist of genius to study these interesting situations, he would open to himself a new field for historical painting.

There is a kind of mythological romance in which the heroes of Greece appear in Spanish costume, which may be regarded as an imitation of the species already described. The history of the siege of Troy, having been clothed in the garb of a chivalric romance, it followed, as a matter of course, that the Grecian heroes should be exhibited as knights-errant in the poetic romances. It is obvious, on examination, that most of these mythological romances are very old.[65] Even christianity is made to contribute to this kind of composition, and anecdotes from the bible are related in the favourite romance form; as, for example, the lamentation of king David on the death of his son Absalom.[66]

CASTILIAN POETRY IN THE THIRTEENTH AND FOURTEENTH CENTURIES.

In ancient Spanish poetry the strictly lyric romances do not form a different class from the narrative romances. On the contrary, these kinds are inseparably confounded. In like manner, no essential distinction between what was called a cancion (song), and a lyric romance, was established either in theory or in practice. A custom prevailed of classing, without distinction, under the general name of romance, any lyric expression of the feelings which ran on, in the popular manner, in a string of redondillas, without distinct strophes, and which, in that respect resembled the greater part of the narrative romances. When, however, the composition was divided into little strophes, or coplas, it was usually called a cancion, a term employed in nearly the same indeterminate sense as the word song in English, or lied in German, but which does not correspond with the Italian canzone. The same name, however, came afterwards to be applied to lyric pieces of greater research and more elevated character, if they were divided into strophes. Compositions in coplas must have been common in Spain about the middle of the fourteenth century; for the traces of their origin lead back to the ancient Spanish custom of accompanying such songs, in the true style of national poetry, with dances. The saraband is one of those old national dances, during the performance of which coplas were sung. Hence the Spanish proverb denoting antiquated and trivial poetry, when it is said of verses that “they are not worth as much as the coplas of the saraband,” in the same way as the romance of Calainos is quoted proverbially.[67] But many lyric compositions which are preserved in the collections of the most ancient of the pieces known by the general name of romances, are probably of an older date than those in coplas which appear in the Cancioneros. They have, like the older romances, only a single rhyme, alternating with assonances and blank verses; but, independently of this proof, their old language, which corresponds so naturally with the ingenuous simplicity of their manner, is sufficient to mark their antiquity.[68]

The Castilian lyric poetry seems to have begun to confer reputation on those who cultivated it, in the latter half of the fourteenth century. The Marquis of Santillana, who lived in the first half of the fifteenth century, relates that his grandfather composed very good songs, and among others some, the first lines of which he quotes.[69] According to the statement of the Marquis, a Spanish jew, named Rabbi Santo, celebrated as the author of maxims in verse, flourished about the same time. He also informs us, that during the reign of John I. from 1379 to 1390, Alfonso Gonzales de Castro, and some other poets, were esteemed for their lyric compositions. But all these names, so honoured in their own age, were forgotten in the commencement of the fifteenth century, when under the reign of John II. there arose a new race of poets, who outshone all their predecessors.

POETICAL COURT OF JOHN II.

The Spanish authors make the reign of John II. the commencement of an epoch in their poetry. But though some poetic essays of greater compass than had previously been undertaken, were then produced, still this period ought really to be regarded only as that in which the ancient poetry received its last improvement, and by no means as constituting a new era. The old national muse of Castile continued the favourite of many of the grandees of the kingdom who were ambitious, in imitation of Alphonso X. of uniting the reputation of learning to the fame of their poetry, but who had more true poetic feeling than that monarch. These noble authors thought they could acquire little honour by devoting their attention to the composition of romances, properly so called, but preferred distinguishing themselves by giving to lyric poetry a higher degree of art in its forms, and more ingenuity of invention. As a consequence of this taste, they displayed a particular fondness for allegory, and ingenious difficulties and subtilties of every kind were the great objects of their labours. Their best works are some compositions in which they seem unconsciously to have allowed nature to speak, and these specimens possess about the same value as the anonymous romances. They brought the dactylic stanzas (versos de arte mayor,) again into vogue, because such artificial strophes had a more learned air than the easy flowing redondillas. Mythological illusions and moral sentences were, with these authors, the usual substitutes for true poetic dignity. But barbarous as was their taste, nature, which they wished to renounce, sometimes worked so powerfully within them, that she triumphed over the pedantic refinement to which they had surrendered their understandings;—and the graceful facility of the popular manner occasionally appeared in their writings. In this way the ancient national poetry became amalgamated with works distinguished for laborious efforts of art, and ultimately attained a higher degree of consideration. There resulted, however, no revolution in the literature of Spain; and it cannot be said, that the authors of the age of John II. formed an epoch, unless it be for having introduced, with more success than Alphonso X. learning and philosophy into the sphere of poetry; and for having, besides, by their united endeavours, given to the ancient lyric forms of their maternal language, that sort of improvement which, consistently with the spirit of the age, they were capable of receiving, and which finally brought them to their highest state of perfection.

But this period of brilliant improvement in the ancient national poetry of Spain is, in another respect, more memorable than the writers on Spanish literature appear to have regarded it. During the whole period the Castilian monarchy was convulsed by internal troubles. Even in the last ten years of the fourteenth century, the powerful barons of the kingdom had almost wrested the sceptre from the hands of John I. and Henry III. Under John II. the celebrated patron of poetry, who reigned from 1407 to 1454, the monarchy was more than once menaced with destruction. The grandees sported with the royal prerogatives, and John II. had not sufficient firmness of character to render his authority respected. In the difficult situations in which he was involved, he derived, in a certain measure, his security from his love of literature, which yielded a valuable return for the favours he had bestowed. It won and preserved for him the attachment of many of the most considerable noblemen of the country, who formed around him a poetical court, which was not without influence on public affairs. It would not be easy to find in the history of states and of literature, another instance of a similar court, with the members composing it, at once poets, warriors, and statesmen, surrounding and supporting a learned sovereign, in spite of his imbecility, during a period of civil commotion. This phenomenon proves the supremacy of the poetic spirit at this time in Spain, since it was not to be subdued even by the spirit of political faction, which is always hostile to poetry, and which was, at this time, particularly powerful.

THE MARQUIS OF VILLENA.

Previously to this period, before the poets had rendered the court of John II. the most brilliant society of the age, an eminent nobleman, the Marquis Enrique de Villena, was distinguished for his literary efforts. He sought to adorn his erudition with the lyric graces of the Limosin Troubadours, who had then attained their highest and final celebrity at the court of Arragon; and, thus united, to adapt both the learning and the poetry to the Castilian taste. He seemed called by birth to the performance of this task; for he was descended by the paternal side from the kings of Arragon, and by the maternal from those of Castile. His reputation for metaphysical and natural knowledge was so great, that he came, at last, in that ignorant age, to be regarded as a magician, and on that account he and his books were never mentioned but with horror. His talent for poetic invention was, however, an object of particular admiration with many of the poets of the age of John II. and among others of the Marquis de Santillana and Juan de Mena.

The Marquis of Villena was the author of an allegorical drama, which was performed at the court of Arragon in celebration of a marriage, and which may, therefore, be supposed to have been written in the Limosin rather than in the Castilian language. Among the characters stated to have been introduced into this drama, are Justice, Truth, Peace, and Clemency.[70] Rhetorical and poetical competitions were instituted at Toulouse, in the year 1324, under the name of the Floral Games, to foster, by prizes and gallant ceremonies, the Troubadour spirit. This institution, which was soon after imitated in Arragon, was transplanted by the Marquis of Villena to Castile, but the result of that enterprize was not successful.[71] The Marquis died at Madrid in 1434. A work supposed to have been printed at Burgos in 1499, under the title of Los trabajos de Hercules, (The Labours of Hercules), used formerly to be quoted as one of his poems; but from more recent investigations, it appears that this pretended poem was a mythological tale in prose.[72] A translation of the Æneid by the Marquis, is besides mentioned, but this work appears also to be lost. A kind of art of poetry, which he wrote under the title of La Gaya Ciencia, has been more fortunate; for it has been partially preserved, and is still regarded with respect as the oldest work of the kind in the Spanish language.[73] This treatise, however, does not deserve to be called an Art of Poetry, except in a very limited sense. It must have been intended as a necessary instruction, in the first place, for the Marquis of Santillana, to whom it is directly addressed, and doubtless, in the next, for the other members of the Institute of the Gay Science, (El Consistorio de la gaya Ciencia), which the Marquis of Villena had formed in Castile. In conformity with this object, the author relates the history of the Institute, endeavours to prove its utility, takes that opportunity of expressing his opinion on the object of poetry in general, and concludes with laying down the principles of Castilian prosody. These principles appear to have been particularly useful with reference to the conflict which then subsisted between the Castilian and Limosin tongues. Among his general observations on poetry, he says—“Great are the benefits which this science confers on civil society, by banishing indolence, and employing noble minds in laudable speculations: other nations have, accordingly, wished for and established among themselves, schools of this science, by which it has been diffused over different parts of the world.”[74] It is obvious that this active nobleman was full of zeal for the improvement of the poetry of his country, and for the honour of that art which was cultivated with method and dignity in the Arragonian provinces, but which in Castile, where it was left to itself, appeared to stand in need of direction and encouragement. The difference between science and art was not more clearly perceived by the Marquis of Villena than by the other poets and men of learning of his age; and to distinguish the Castilian forms of romantic poetry from the Limosin, did not appear to him necessary. Thus, while his labours contributed to heighten the respect in which poetry and liberal pursuits were held, they had only an indirect influence on the improvement of Castilian poetry.

THE MARQUIS OF SANTILLANA; HIS POETICAL WORKS; HIS HISTORICAL AND CRITICAL LETTER.

After the death of the Marquis of Villena, his pupil, Don Iñigo Lopez de Mendoza, Marquis of Santa Juliana, or Santillana, appears at the head of the brilliant society of poets who adorned the court of John II. Whenever a Marquis of Santillana is mentioned in the history of Spanish literature, without any more particular description, it is this nobleman that is meant. He was born in the year 1398. His elevated rank and great fortune, joined to the military and political talents by which he was distinguished from youth upwards, placed him in a situation in which he was called upon to perform a principal part among the nobles of Castile. His intellectual culture had for its basis the philosophy of Socrates; and his strict morality procured him no less celebrity than his sound understanding and love of science.[75] This uncommon union of rank, influence, character, talents, and learning, could not fail to render the Marquis of Santillana highly respected; and he was indeed regarded as so extraordinary a man, that foreigners are said to have undertaken journies to Castile for the sole purpose of seeing him. He was greatly esteemed by king John, who, during the civil wars, constantly received from him, in return, the homage which was due to a protector of learning, though the Marquis was not always of that prince’s party. After the death of John II. in the latter years of his life, this eminent man assisted with his counsels Henry IV. under whom the regal authority in Castile was subsequently almost annihilated. He died in the year 1458.

The Marquis of Santillana possessed no uncommon poetic talent. But he studied to give to the poetry of his age a moral tendency, to extend its sphere by allegorical invention, and to adorn poetic description with the stores of learning. Two poems, in which he has best succeeded in realizing these objects, are also the most celebrated of his works. The first is an elegy on the death of the Marquis of Villena;[76] a lyric allegory in twenty-five dactylic stanzas, constructed according to the ancient form. The idea is very simple, and the commencement of the piece brings to recollection the hell of Dante, of which it is probably an imitation.[77] The poet loses himself in a desert, finds himself surrounded by wild and frightful animals, advances forward, hears dismal tones of lamentation, and finally discovers some nymphs in mourning, who bewail the loss and chaunt the merits of the deceased Marquis of Villena. On this poem, which does not discover much ingenuity of invention, the Marquis of Santillana probably expended all his stock of learning. He cites as many deities and ancient authors, as the nature of his work will permit him to notice.[78] Such a display of erudition had never before been seen in the Castilian language. No genial poetic spirit is to be found except in the descriptions and in some other scattered passages of this lyric allegory;[79] but the verse is not destitute of harmony. The other considerable poem of the Marquis, consists of a series of moral reflections, occasioned by the unfortunate fate of Don Alvaro de Luna, the favourite of John II.; the Marquis called this work, El doctrinal de Privados, (the Manual of Favourites.) It must be regarded as the earliest didactic poem in the Spanish language, unless that title be given to any series of moral maxims in verse. The work which is divided into fifty-three stanzas in redondillas, receives a poetic colouring from the manner in which the shade of Don Alvaro is introduced confessing his faults, and uttering those moral truths, which the author wished to impress on the hearts of the restless Castilians.[80] He was less successful in his love songs composed in the Castilian manner, to which he unfortunately thought a new dignity would be given, by rendering them the vehicles of learned allusions. He possessed, however, the art of reconciling this pedantry with a pleasing style of versification.[81] A kind of hymn, which he composed, under the title of Los Gozos de neustra Señora, (the Joys of our Lady) has been preserved, but it possesses no poetic merit.[82] He also wrote a collection of proverbs and maxims in verse, for the use of the Prince Royal of Castile, who afterwards ascended a tottering throne under the title of Henry IV.[83] However low a critical examination might reduce the value of these works, still the Marquis of Santillana deserves to retain the place assigned to him in the history of Spanish literature by his contemporaries, by whom he was generally admired, as the “representative of the honour of poetry.”

Among the literary remains of the Marquis of Santillana, the critical and historical letter is particularly remarkable. This letter, which is frequently mentioned in the early accounts of Spanish poetry,[84] is instructive in various respects. It affords the means of accurately observing the infancy of Spanish criticism in that age, for the Marquis has added to the letter a collection of his ingenious maxims, (decires,) and of his poems for Don Pedro, a Portuguese prince; and from the embarrassment evinced by the Marquis when he attempts to give the prince an account of the rise of Castilian poetry, it is obvious, that with respect to the real origin of that poetry, less was understood at that time than is known at the present day. Poetry, or the gay science, is, according to the Marquis of Santillana, “an invention of useful things, which being enveloped in a beautiful veil, are arranged, exposed, and concealed according to a certain calculation, measurement, and weight.”[85] Thus, allegory appeared to him to belong to the essence of poetry. He could scarcely have imbibed this opinion from Dante. In Spain, as well as in Italy and France, it seems to have issued forth from the monkish cells, when endeavours were made to unite poetry with philosophy, and to make the poetic art the symbol of knowledge, in order to ensure to it estimation among the learned. The allegorical spirit which pervades the half gothic poetry of that period, is therefore inseparably connected with the characteristic origin of modern poetry. The Marquis of Santillana would have come to a totally different conclusion, had he taken an unprejudiced view of the genuine national poetry of his country. But he imagined he was laying down a principle which would ennoble it, when, according to his theory, he held allegory to be indispensable. Without scruple, therefore, he confounded the Castilian and Limosin poetry together in one mass. Respecting the origin of the former, he entered into no investigation. He commences the history of poetry with Moses, Joshua, David, Solomon, and Job,[86] gives a copious account of the changes which the art of the Troubadours had undergone in the Arragonian provinces, and adds a notice of some of the earliest Galician and Portuguese poets: among the Castilian poets, he mentions king Alphonso and some others, without saying a syllable on the subject of the ancient romances.

JUAN DE MENA.

Juan de Mena, who is by some writers, styled the Spanish Ennius, ranks, as a poet, in a somewhat higher scale than the Marquis of Santillana, though he was less favoured by fortune, and was not distinguished by so many various merits as the latter. He was born in Cordova, about the year 1412. In this southern district of Spain, which but a short time before had been recovered from the Moors, the Castilian genius was doubtless very rapidly naturalized. Juan de Mena, though not descended from a family of rank,[87] was not of mean origin, and at the early age of three-and-twenty he was invested with a civil appointment in his native city. His own inclination, however, prompted him to devote himself to philosophy, and particularly to the study of ancient literature and history. From Cordova he went to the University of Salamanca. But in order more nearly to approach the source of ancient literature, he undertook a journey to Rome, where he zealously prosecuted his studies. Enriched with knowledge, he returned to his native country, and immediately attracted the notice of the Marquis of Santillana, and shortly after of king John. Both received him into their literary circles with distinguished approbation. The Marquis of Santillana attached himself with more friendship to Juan de Mena than to any other poet who enjoyed the favour of the king, although their political opinions did not always coincide. The king nominated him one of the historiographers, who, according to the arrangement which had subsisted since the time of Alphonso X. were appointed to continue the national chronicles. Juan de Mena lived in high favour at the court of John II. and was a constant adherent of the king. He died in 1456, at Guadalaxara, in New Castile, being then about forty-five years of age. The Marquis of Santillana erected a monument to his memory.

From the history of Juan de Mena’s life, it might be expected that his endeavours to extend the boundaries of Castilian poetry would be made under the influence of Italian taste, more or less of which he may be presumed to have adopted, and on his return introduced into his native country. But no Italian poet, save Dante, appears to have produced any remarkable impression on him. Indeed, with the exception of Dante and Petrarch, there was, at that period, no Italian poet of classic consideration; and in the first half of the fifteenth century Italian poetry suddenly declined. Sonnets were still in favour throughout the whole of Italy, but Juan de Mena continued faithful to the old forms of the Castilian poetry, perhaps from a feeling of national pride. He certainly did not imitate the sonnet; and even from Dante himself, he copied neither metrical form nor style. In allegory alone he followed the footsteps of the Italian poet. His most celebrated poem is, the Labyrinth, (el Labyrintho) or, the Three Hundred Stanzas (las trecientas,) an allegorical historical didactic work, in old dactylic verse (versos de arte mayor.[88]) Had the Labyrinth proved what, according to the idea of the author, it was intended to be, it would have been proper, merely on account of that single work, to commence a new epoch of Spanish poetry with the reign of John II. But with all its merits, which have been highly extolled by some authors, and which are certainly by no means trivial, it can only be regarded as a mere specimen of gothic art.[89] It belongs to the period which gave it birth, and bears no traces of the superiority of a genius which might have ruled the spirit of the age. Juan de Mena formed the grand design of executing in this work an allegorical picture of the whole course of human life. His intention was, to embrace every age, to immortalize great virtues, to stigmatize with opprobrium great vices, and to represent in striking colours the irresistible power of destiny.[90] But the poetical invention of Juan de Mena was subordinate to his false learning. The three hundred stanzas, of which the poem consists, are divided into seven orders, (ordenes), in imitation of the seven planets, the influence of which, according to Juan de Mena’s doctrine, is wisely prescribed by Providence. To represent this influence figuratively, Mena resorted to a most insipid and grotesque invention. After invoking Apollo and Calliope, and earnestly apostrophising Fortune,[91] he loses himself in imitation of Dante in an allegorical world, where a female of astonishing beauty appears to him, and becomes his guide. This female is Providence:[92] she conducts him to three wheels, two of which are motionless, while the third is in a state of continual movement. These wheels, it will readily be conjectured, represent the past, the present, and the future. Human beings drop down through this mill of time. The centre wheel turns them round. Each has his name and destiny inscribed on his forehead. While the wheel of the present is revolving with all the existing human race, it is controlled astrologically in its motion by the seven orders or circles of the seven planets under the influence of which men are born. Whether or not these circles are perceptible on the wheel itself, is not clearly stated. To this description succeeds, in the order of the seven planets, a long gallery of mythological and historical pictures, which presents abundant fruits of the poet’s extensive reading. This grotesque composition is interspersed with individual passages of great interest and beauty, though none of the traits call to mind similar traits in Dante. The most glowing passages of the lyric, didactic, and narrative class, are those in which Juan de Mena gives utterance to the language of Spanish patriotism.[93] He is particularly successful in the description of the death of the Count de Niebla, a Spanish naval hero, who attempted to recover Gibraltar from the Moors; but through ignorance of the return of the tide, fell a sacrifice to the waves, because he preferred perishing with his men, to saving himself singly.[94] But particular attention is bestowed on Don Alvaro de Luna,[95] the favourite of the king, who is introduced in this poem with great pomp, under the constellation of Saturn. When Juan de Mena wrote this poem, and thus proclaimed the glory of de Luna, the latter had not yet fallen, and the energy of his character seemed to promise, as the poet prophesied, that he would ultimately triumph over all the Castilian nobles who had excited the hostility of the country against him. King John, as may naturally be supposed, is in Juan de Mena’s Labyrinth complimented on every suitable occasion. A genealogy of the kings of Spain forms the conclusion of the poem; and thus were the Spaniards made to feel a kind of national interest for the whole work, which in some measure subsists, at least among their writers at the present day. Even in Juan de Mena’s time, the learned solecisms with which he endeavoured to elevate his poetic language were uncommon;[96] but other essential faults, such, for instance, as Aristotelian definitions in verse, were then esteemed great beauties; and the gothic and fantastic hyperboles in praise of king John, with which the poem opens, as if intended to appal the reader at the outset, were not at that period considered unpoetic.[97]

But king John was not satisfied with the torrent of praise which was poured upon him by Mena’s Labyrinth. The king, with critical gravity, signified his wish that the poet should add sixty-five stanzas to the three hundred which he had already written, so that by making the number of stanzas correspond with the number of days in the year, the beauty of the composition might be heightened. The sixty-five new stanzas were also to have a political tendency, with the view of recalling the rebellious nobles to their allegiance. Juan de Mena proceeded to the prescribed task; but he could produce no more than twenty-four additional stanzas (coplas añadidas.) They are contained in the Cancionero general.

Another work of Juan de Mena, very celebrated at the period when the poet flourished, is his Ode for the Poetical Coronation of the Marquis of Santillana.[98] That Mecænas sometimes vied with him in the composition of ingenious questions, or enigmas and their answers, which were versified by both in dactylic stanzas.[99] His other poems are, for the most part, love songs, in the style of the age, and according to the perverted taste of the poet, loaded with mythological learning. In the course of this work further notice will be taken of these songs, together with other amatory poems of the same period. During the last year of his life, Juan de Mena was engaged in a moral allegorical poem, which, however, he did not complete. It was entitled a Treatise on Vices and Virtues, (Tractado de Vicios y Virtudes.) The author intended in an epic poem to represent the “more than civil war,” which the will, instigated by the passions, maintains with reason.[100] The will and reason are in the end personified.

To collect biographical notices of the other poets and writers of verse who enjoyed the favour of king John II. and whose works are partly contained in the Cancionero general, or to give an extensive account of their productions, is a task which must be resigned to the author who has made this department of Spanish literature his particular study. As to poetic value, the writings of all those authors are in the main the same; and it may therefore be presumed that it will prove more instructive to consider works so nearly related to each other, under the comprehensive view of general criticism. A few notices, however, of men worthy of more particular remembrance, may precede the critical comparison of their works.[101]

PEREZ DE GUZMAN, RODRIGUEZ DEL PADRON, AND OTHER SPANISH LYRIC POETS OF THE AGE OF JOHN II.

Fernan Perez de Guzman was held in no trifling consideration at the court of John II. His family, which was one of the most distinguished in Castile, was related to all the other great families in the country. As a poet, he studied to combine the peculiar tone of moral and spiritual poetry with that of the old romances. His Representation of the Four Cardinal Virtues, dedicated to the Marquis of Santillana, which consists of sixty-four strophes or couplets, is versified in redondillas, as are also his Ave Maria, his Paternoster, and his other spiritual songs.

Rodriguez del Padron seems likewise to have been held in some esteem at the court of John II. His family name is not known, and as little are the dates of his birth and death, but he is named after the place of his nativity, the little town El Padron in Galicia. It is remarkable that in his poetry he dropped his Galician idiom and adopted the Castilian. Besides the reputation he obtained by his poetic productions, which are chiefly love songs, he is celebrated for his friendship with the Galician poet Macias, who will be further mentioned in the history of Portuguese poetry. The tragical death of Macias, who fell a sacrifice to his romantic susceptibility, made such an impression on Rodriguez del Padron, that he shut himself up in a Dominican cloister, which he had erected at his own expense. He became a monk, and terminated his life in that convent.

Alonzo de Santa Maria, called also Alonzo de Cartagena, wrote love songs, probably in his youth, and then devoted himself to spiritual affairs. He died Archbishop of Burgos, in the year 1456.

Several other poets whose works fill the Cancionero general, also lived in the reign, or rather under the anticipated domination of queen Isabella, who, in the year 1465, vouchsafed to her almost dethroned brother, Henry IV. the little authority, which, as a nominal king he retained till his death in 1474. At this troubled period Garci Sanchez de Badajoz sang his passionate and glowing songs of love; and at the same time flourished the two Manriques, Gomez Manrique and Jorge Manrique; the latter was nephew to the former. Both owed the consideration they enjoyed no less to their poetical works than to their high and pure Castilian descent. The Bachelor de la Torre, of whom nothing further is known than what his own songs express, lived at the same period.

OF THE CANCIONERO GENERAL, AND THE DIFFERENT KINDS OF ANCIENT SPANISH SONGS.

Between the works of the above poets, all of which are to be found in the Cancionero general, and the other poems contained in the same collection, whether their authors lived in the first or the second half of the fifteenth century, there is a very striking resemblance. This collection, so remarkable in its kind, may therefore be regarded as a single work, which, together with a portion of the General Romance Book (Romancero general), embraces nearly all the Castilian poetry of the fifteenth century. No other remains of Spanish poetry, belonging to the same age, are sufficiently important to be brought into comparison with this national treasure. It may not, then, be improper to introduce here, a few particulars respecting the history of the Cancionero general. Of the Romancero general some further account must hereafter be given.

The bibliographic notices towards the history of the collections of Spanish poetry, to be found in the works of various authors, readily explain why many old Spanish poems and names of poets have been either totally lost, or are still only preserved in manuscript in a way which renders them foreign to literature. It appears that having been withheld from the press, on the introduction of printing into Spain,[102] they were forgotten as soon as other collections were made known by means of that art. In the reign of John II. Alphonso de Baena, who himself wrote in verse, prepared a collection of old lyric pieces, under the title of Cancionero de Poetas Antiguos. This collection, though still preserved in the library of the Escurial, was never printed;[103] but a list of the poets whose works are contained in it, has appeared, and includes names which do not occur elsewhere. Alvarez de Villapandino is mentioned as a particularly excellent “master and patron of the said art,” namely, poetry. Sanchez Salavera, Ruy Paez de Ribera, and others, of whom besides their names, nothing else is known, are also cited. It is not very probable that Alphonso de Baena’s collection was the origin of that which subsequently appeared under the title of the Cancionero general. Of this celebrated collection it is merely known that it was originally produced by Fernando del Castillo, at the commencement of the sixteenth century, and within a short period frequently augmented and reprinted. Fernando del Castillo began his collection with the poets of the age of John II. He did not, however, take the trouble to carry on the series in chronological order through the fifteenth century. He places the spiritual poems before the rest. He then gives the works of several poets of the reign of John II. mingled with others of more recent date, but so arranged, that the productions of each author seem to be kept distinct. After, however, the works are thus apparently given, other poems follow under particular heads, partly by the same and partly by different authors, whose names are sometimes mentioned and sometimes not: there are also a few Italian sonnets, and some coplas in the Valencian language. In proportion as the collection extended, the additions were always inserted at the end of the book. In the oldest editions the number of poets mentioned amounts to one hundred and thirty-six.[104]

A nation which can enumerate one hundred and thirty-six song writers in a single century, and which also possesses a great number of songs by unknown authors, produced within the same period, may well boast of its lyric genius; and the literary historian, before he proceeds to a closer review of this collection, may reasonably expect to find in it a full and true representation of the national character. Thus the old Spanish Cancionero is even more interesting to the philosophic observer of human nature than to the critic.

The Spiritual Songs, (Obras de Devocion,) at the head of the collection, probably will not fulfil the expectations which may be formed respecting them. It is natural to presume that in a nation so poetically inclined, and in an age when, for the most part, nature was followed without reference to the rules of art, the poets could not fail to view Christianity on its poetic side. But the scholastic forms of the existing theology crushed the genius of poetry; and the unpoetic side of Christianity, because it was the most learned, was alone deemed worthy the strains of the Spanish poets of the fifteenth century. They likewise seldom ventured to give scope to the fancy in devotional verses, because the nation was accustomed to the most implicit faith in every dogma of the church, and the recognition of the sacredness of literal interpretation was identified with orthodoxy, long before the terrors of the inquisition and its burning piles were known. This rigid orthodoxy of the Spanish Christians was a consequence of their war of five hundred years duration with the Moors. Throughout that long period the Spanish knight invariably fought for religion and his country; and from the constant hostility that prevailed between the Christian and Mahometan faiths, the Spanish Christians were wont to make a parade of their creed, as the Christians of the east are accustomed to do at the present day. Hence the strictest formality was observed in all matters connected with religion; and great as was the enthusiasm of the Spaniards in the fifteenth century, it produced few, if any, lyric compositions, containing more poetry than a common hymn. Whether reference be made to the Twenty Perfections of the Holy Virgin,[105] (Obra en loor de veinte excellencias de nuestra Señora), by Juan Tulante, who is the author of most of the spiritual songs in the Cancionero general; to the play on the five letters of the name Maria,[106] by the Visconde de Altamira; or to Fernan Perez de Guzman’s versions of the Ave Maria and Paternoster,[107] which could not have been more dryly and formally written in prose; we find in all the same monotony without any poetic adaptation of the materials.

The moral poems of this collection do not weigh heavier in the scale of poetic merit. The art which the ancients possessed of introducing moral ideas into the region of poetry, was not attainable by the pupils of the monastic schools. They allegorized either virtues or vices according to the catalogue and definitions of the scholastic philosophy; or they made common place observations on human life, sometimes with declamatory pomp, sometimes with real warmth of feeling, and occasionally in agreeable verse, though destitute of any poetic spirit. Gomez Manrique with commendable frankness addressed a didactic poem on the Duties of Sovereigns (Regimiento de Principes) in redondillas, to Queen Isabella and her husband Ferdinand of Arragon; but however valuable the truths which he wished to impart to the royal pair, he could only express them in versified prose.[108] The moral coplas of his nephew Jorge Manrique present somewhat stronger claims to poetic merit; they were subsequently glossed as a National Book of Devotion, and were held in high estimation up to a recent period.[109] In the moral as well as in the spiritual songs the character of the nation is manifest. With equal warmth of feeling, with the same disposition for light and sportive gaiety, the Spaniards were invariably distinguished from the Italians by moral gravity. Hence, they have in all times set a high value on rules of conduct, sentences, and useful proverbs, and have never regarded the principles of genuine rectitude as less important than maxims of worldly wisdom.

But love songs form by far the principal part of the contents of the old Spanish Cancioneros. To read them regularly through, would require a strong passion for compositions of this class, for the monotony of the authors is interminable. To extend and spin out a theme as long as possible, though only to seize a new modification of the old ideas or phrases, was, in their opinion, essential to the truth and sincerity of their poetic effusions of the heart. That loquacity which is an hereditary fault of the Italian Canzone, must also be endured in perusing the amatory flights of the Spanish redondillas, while in them the Italian correctness of expression would be looked for in vain. From the desire perhaps of relieving their monotony, by some sort of variety the authors have indulged in even more witticisms and plays of words than the Italians, but they also sought to infuse a more emphatic spirit into their compositions than the latter.[110] The Spanish poems of this class, exhibit, in general, all the poverty of the compositions of the Troubadours, but blend with the simplicity of these bards, the pomp of the Spanish national style in its utmost vigour. This resemblance to the Troubadour songs was not however produced by imitation; it arose out of the spirit of romantic love, which at that period, and for several preceding centuries, gave to the south of Europe the same feelings and taste. Since the age of Petrarch, this spirit had appeared in classical perfection in Italy. But the Spanish amatory poets of the fifteenth century had not reached an equal degree of cultivation; and the whole turn of their ideas required rather a passionate than a tender expression. The sighs of the languishing Italians became cries in Spain. Glowing passion, despair and violent ecstacy, were the soul of the Spanish love songs. The continually recurring picture of the contest between reason and passion is a peculiar characteristic of these songs. The Italian poets did not place so much importance on the triumph of reason. The rigidly moral Spaniard was, however, anxious to be wise even in the midst of his folly. But this obtrusion of wisdom in its improper place, frequently gives an unpoetic harshness to the lyric poetry of Spain, in spite of all the softness of its melody. It would be no unprofitable or useless task to pursue this comparison still further. But the limited extent of this work can afford space for only a few notices and examples.

How successful the Spanish poets of the fifteenth century were in gay and graceful love songs, when guided only by their own feelings, is manifest from some of the compositions of Juan de Mena; but the charm vanishes the instant the poet begins to display his skill and erudition.[111] In a love song by Diego Lopez de Haro, reason and the mind enter into a prolix conversation on the value to be attached to affections of the heart; and the thinking faculty admits reason at the expense of poetry.[112] In the other songs of the same author, in which the mind obeys only the heart, he is poetic in all the simplicity of passion, though in search of wit he sometimes involves himself in obscure subtilties.[113] The fire of passion is excellently painted, even amidst sports of wit,[114] in several songs by Alonzo de Cartagena, afterwards archbishop of Burgos; and it seems to rage incessantly in the love songs of Guivara, to one of which he has given the emphatic title of El Infierno de Amores; or, The Hell of Love.[115] Sanchez de Badajoz, when, like a despairing lover, he wrote his will in poetry, thought he might avail himself of some passages from the book of Job to express his suffering. He divided this strange kind of will into nine lessons, (leciones). The ideas are very extravagant, but the execution is vigorous, and in many parts not unpoetic.[116] It might be presumed that profane applications of the doctrines and language of the bible would have given offence to the Spanish public, or at least alarmed the guardians of catholic orthodoxy. But such was not the case. Rodriguez del Padron chose the Seven Joys of Love as the subject of one of his songs, the title of which calls to mind the Marquis of Santillana’s Joys of the Holy Virgin; he also versified Love’s Ten Commandments, (Los diez Madamientos de Amor.)

The other kinds of lyric poems, for example, the laudatory poems, which are dispersed through the Cancionero general, are not distinguished by any peculiar features; but the poems under miscellaneous titles in this collection deserve particular attention. They exhibit the natural style, amalgamated with a conventional, and thus form the model of a species of national poetry, which has descended to the present age. Certain short lyric poems, usually called songs, (canciones,) in the more strict sense of the term are distinguished by a peculiar character and a decided metrical form. They have always a sententious or an epigramatic turn. The number of lines is generally twelve, which are divided into two parts. The first four lines comprehend the idea on which the song is founded. And this idea is developed or applied in the eight following lines. The Cancionero general contains one hundred and fifty-six of these little songs, some of which are the best poems in the whole book. For this advantage they are probably indebted to their conventional form, which confined the romantic verbosity within narrow bounds. These little songs were to the Spaniards of the fifteenth century, what the epigram had been to the Greeks, and what the madrigal was to the Italians and French. Like the latter, they are generally devoted to some theme of gallantry; and though they do not possess so high a polish, yet the interest excited by the truth with which they paint the character of the age, and their ingenious simplicity, entitles them to be ranked among the sweetest blossoms of the ancient spirit of romance.[117]

The Villancicos bear an immediate affinity to these little songs. The idea which forms the subject of the Villancico, is sometimes contained in two, but more commonly in three lines. The developement, or application, may be completed in one short stanza, but often extends to several similar stanzas. These stanzas always include seven lines. It was, perhaps, by way of irony that the name Villancico was originally applied to productions of this kind; for the spiritual motets, which are sung during high mass on Christmas eve, are also called Villancicos. At least no satisfactory etymology has yet been found for the name. The Cancionero general contains fifty-four Villancicos, and among them are some which possess inimitable grace and delicacy.[118]

These remarkable compositions, whose origin appears to be lost in the early periods of the formation of the Spanish language, doubtless gave rise to the poetic gloss (glosa,) a kind of poem scarcely known, even by name, on this side of the Pyrenees, but to which the Spaniards and Portuguese of the fifteenth century were particularly attached, and which subsequently even after the introduction of the Italian forms, continued to be preserved as national poetry in Spain and Portugal.

The poetic glosses may, in some measure, be compared to musical variations. The musician selects as his theme some well known melody, which he paraphrases or modifies into variations; in like manner in Spain and Portugal, well known songs and romances were paraphrased or modified into new productions, but in such a manner that the original composition was, without any alteration in the words, intertwined line after line, at certain intervals into the new one. A poem of this kind was called a gloss. By this operation the connection of the glossed poem was broken, and the comparison of the poetic glosses to musical variations is therefore not in all respects exactly just. But the distinction between them arises out of the different nature of the arts of music and poetry; and it is indeed more surprising that these compositions have not flourished beyond the boundaries of Spain and Portugal, than that they should have been peculiar favourites in those two countries. At first, the old romances were glossed;[119] then, as it appears, mottos, or sentiments, (motes,) in the style of gallantry peculiar to the age,[120] and, at length, every thing that was capable of being glossed. There is a particular class of jeux d’esprit, in the Cancionero general, namely, versified questions and answers, and versified interpretations of devices (letras,) which, together with corresponding emblems, lords and ladies drew by lot at festivals, tourneys, bull fights, &c. But these questions, answers, and devices, are in general more whimsical than ingenious.

OF THE ROMANCERO GENERAL.

The latter half of the fifteenth century seems also to have given birth to the greater portion of those Spanish romances, which wrested the approbation of criticism and public favour from the older productions of the same class; and which, therefore, in the sequel, formed the bulk of the Romancero general, or General Romance Book. This Romancero of the Spaniards is so closely related to their Cancionero general, that some account of it may not be out of place here, though it was not printed as a complete collection until the close of the sixteenth century. With the exception of the narrative romances, the Romancero may be considered merely as a continuation of the Cancionero. The poetry of the lyric pieces contained in it, which are extremely numerous, is both in spirit and metrical form, precisely the same as that which appears in the Cancionero, but more polished in manner and language. The title of romance indicates no essential difference. The narrative romances, which occupy the greater portion of the Romancero, have, in some measure, been characterized in this history in treating of the old romances of the same class; for most of them, particularly those of the historical kind, differ little from the more ancient. But a considerable portion of compositions of every class have been contributed to the Romancero by poets of the sixteenth century. The collectors have mingled these romances and the older ones together, without any attention to critical arrangement or chronological order; and in no instance is there any mention or indication of an author. In a history of literature, it therefore becomes necessary to speak of the Romancero as a whole; and for this purpose, the present is perhaps the most convenient opportunity; for, even at the period when this collection was produced, the poets who wrote romances in the old national style, merely improved that style without essentially altering it.

Among the historical romances, contained in the Romancero, those in which anecdotes of the Moorish war, or the heroic and gallant adventures of Moorish knights, are poetically treated, seem, for the most part, to belong to the latter half of the fifteenth century. All these romances relate to the civil wars of Granada, the last Moorish principality in Spain. The civil dissensions of Castile retarded for upwards of half a century the conquest of Granada, which was at length effected in the year 1492, by the united power of Isabella of Castile and Ferdinand of Arragon. During this last period of the conflict between the Christians and the Mahometans of Spain, the former became more intimately acquainted with the history of the latter. As the last blow for the deliverance of the Peninsula was now about to be struck, all that related to the Moors was doubly interesting to the Castilians. The two rival factions, the Zegris and the Abencerrages, whose mutual enmity accelerated the fall of Granada, were, in a particular manner, the objects of their adversaries attention.

About this period it seems to have become a fashion among the Spanish romance writers, to select from the events of Moorish history, materials for their songs; and in these romances the heroes of the Zegri and Abencerrage tribes sustain the principal characters. Even after the conquest of Granada, the interest excited throughout Spain by that great national event, still continued; and, doubtless, many romances, the subjects of which are borrowed from Moorish history, were produced in the sixteenth century.[121]

The first Spanish pastoral romances, were probably produced during the last ten years of the fifteenth century. But no distinct traces exist of the rise of this species of poetry in Spain. In the poetry of the age of John II. neither pastoral names nor ideas appear, except in the satyrical poem, entitled, Mingo Rebulgo, which will be hereafter noticed. Pastoral dramas are, however, to be found in the works of Juan de la Enzina, who flourished towards the close of the fifteenth century, and of whom we shall also have occasion to speak more at large. The Spanish pastoral poetry seems, shortly after its rise, to have been blended with the romantic poetry. Many of the most beautiful narrative pieces in the Romancero general are properly pastoral romances. It is quite impossible to ascertain correctly to what age these bucolicks belong;[122] and it has, hitherto, proved equally impossible to obtain any positive information respecting the origin of the facetious and satyrical romances and songs, dispersed through the Romancero general.[123]

Finally, the history of the Romancero general itself still waits for bibliographic illustration; and in order to throw any light on this subject, it would be necessary to have the opportunity of examining the Spanish libraries and old collections of manuscripts, and to be able to bestow on them the most indefatigable attention. Of all the collections, bearing the common title of Romancero general, only two are quoted by authors; one was edited by Miguel de Madrigal, in the year 1604; and the other by Pedro de Flores in 1614.[124] Another publication, however, under the same title, which also appeared in 1604, and which contains upwards of a thousand romances and songs, professes to be a new and augmented collection of this kind.[125] At what time, then, was the first collection made or published?

Those, however, who may think it unimportant to enquire how many of these anonymous poems, which have for ages delighted the Spanish public, were produced in the fifteenth or sixteenth century, and who may merely wish to see a selection of the best Spanish poems in the old national style, have only to turn to the Romancero general. Many of the narrative romances which it contains, vie, in romantic simplicity, with those of apparently older date in other collections, and exceed them in elegance; and still more do a number of the songs in the Romancero surpass those in the Cancionero general. Thus the historian of literature has additional cause to lament that through the absence of all chronological and bibliographical notices, he is deprived of even the slight satisfaction of paying a just tribute to the memory of the authors of the best of these romances and songs, which really deserve to be immortal. The poets themselves, it is true, do not seem to have attached much value to fame. If their songs, accompanied by the guitar, interested the hearts and charmed the ears of their auditors, they sought no laurels in addition to that true reward of the poet. Yet, for this very reason, in an age when the lowest degree of poetic merit presumptuously claims literary distinction, the task would be the more pleasing to do honour to those venerable authors, by raising the veil beneath which their names have too long been concealed.

FIRST TRACES OF THE ORIGIN OF SPANISH DRAMATIC POETRY IN THE MINGO REBULGO—JUAN DEL ENZINA—CALLISTUS AND MELIBŒA, A DRAMATIC TALE.

All that now remains to be stated respecting the poetic literature of the Spaniards during the fifteenth century, must be comprehended in a notice of their first essays in dramatic poetry.

In lieu of those poetic works which are styled dramatic in the true sense of the word, and which afterwards formed the most brilliant portion of Spanish poetry, the Spaniards of the fifteenth century possessed merely spiritual or temporal farces, written in the style which prevailed in the middle ages, and which can scarcely be said to belong to literature. At Saragossa, the residence of the Court of Arragon, attempts towards the improvement of dramatic amusements were earlier made than in the Castilian court. There, as has already been observed, the Marquis de Villena devoted his learning and inventive talents to the drama. Allegorical dramas, indeed, do not seem to have been in favour at the court of Castile, notwithstanding the taste for allegory which distinguished the poets of the reign of John II. A singular union of pastoral and satirical poetry first gave birth to a species of dramatic poem in the Castilian language.

In the reign of John II. an anonymous poet amused himself by describing the court of that monarch in satirical coplas. It is impossible to account for the whim which induced him to throw his rhymes into the form of a dialogue, and to select shepherds for his interlocutors. The work extends to thirty-two coplas, and critics have sometimes classed it among the eclogues, and sometimes among the first satirical productions of the Spanish poets. Some make Rodrigo de Cota the author of these coplas; and others, who ascribe them to Juan de Mena, seem to forget that the latter was zealously devoted to the court party. This singular composition is usually mentioned under the title of Mingo Rebulgo, from the names of the two shepherds who carry on the dialogue. Supposing pastoral poetry to have been in vogue at that period in Spain, and particularly at the court of John II. it would be easy to explain how a witty author might conceive the bold idea of converting a pastoral dialogue into a satire; but in that case the ideas of a poetic pastoral existence must have been diffused through Spain, as they were through Italy. It is probable, however, that in both countries the revived study of classical literature, and particularly of Virgil’s eclogues, gave rise to the practice of clothing modern ideas in a garb imitated from the ancient bucolic poetry; and it seems the effect of mere accident that a Spaniard should have been the first to devote a work of this kind to the purposes of satire.[126]

Doubtless neither the eclogue of Mingo Rebulgo, nor the colloquial stanzas in the Cancionero can properly be regarded as the commencement of dramatic poetry in Spain. But all these preliminary essays in dialogue, are in a literary point of view connected together; and about the close of the fifteenth century, pastoral dialogues were converted into real dramas, by a musical composer, named Juan de la Enzina, or del Enzina, as he is styled in the old collections of his works. This ingenious man who was born in Salamanca during the reign of Queen Isabella, though in what year is not precisely known, was equally celebrated as a poet and musician. He travelled to Jerusalem in company with the Marquis de Tarifa, and this journey could not fail to store his mind with many new ideas. He lived for some time at Rome in the quality of chapel-master, or musical director to Pope Leo; who, it is well known, afforded great encouragement to dramatic amusements. But at Rome, as well as in Palestine, Juan de la Enzina still remained a Spaniard. His poetry imbibed no tincture of the Italian taste, and he continued to write songs and lyric romances in the old Castilian style. He also exercised his fancy in making jests, consisting of ridiculous combinations or heterogeneous conceits, called disparates, which he wrote in the form of romances. For instance, he talks with an absurd but harmless humour of a “cloud which at night, at day break in the afternoon arrived from a pilgrimage, having in its train a domestic utensil which appeared in pontificalibus,” &c.[127] These oddities rendered his name a proverb in Spain. He converted Virgil’s eclogues into romances, in which he displayed singular simplicity, and applied to his patrons, Ferdinand and Isabella, the duke and duchess of Alba, and others, the compliments which Virgil addressed to the emperor Augustus. Accident had introduced into Spain a mixture of pastoral poetry with the drama, and Juan de la Enzina wrote sacred and profane eclogues, in the form of dialogues, which were represented before distinguished audiences on Christmas eve, during the carnival, and on other festivals. They are, however, entirely lost to literature.[128]

The dramatic romance of Callistus and Melibœa is, however, more celebrated than Juan de la Enzina’s eclogues. It was probably commenced in the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella; though some authors assign this singular production of popular descriptive talent and well meant plainness to the age of John II. The author is supposed to be Rodrigo de Cota, to whom the pastoral dialogue of Mingo Rebulgo is also attributed. This dramatic romance was continued and completed at the commencement of the fifteenth century by Fernando de Roxas, who has recorded his own name in the initials of the introductory stanzas.[129] Fernando de Roxas did not possess the forcible descriptive powers of the unknown author, though he appears to have fully entered into the plan traced out by the latter. Either he or his precursor entitled the work a tragi-comedy. It consists of twenty-one acts, and consequently its vast length renders it unfit for theatrical representation. This production may be regarded as original in a certain sense, for there existed no work of the same kind which the author could have chosen as his model. But in a higher and truly critical point of view, it possesses as little originality as real poetic merit. Natural description and moral precept seem to have formed the great object of both authors. They both aimed at exhibiting a series of dramatic lessons to warn youth against the seductive arts of base agents employed to promote intrigues. In order to attain this moral end, the authors deemed it necessary to paint in glowing colours the disgusting picture of a brothel, and through a series of scenes unconnected by the unities of time or place, to exhibit in the most striking point of view, the tragical end of an intrigue conducted by a woman of infamous character. Owing to its moral object, the book has found admirers in all ages, though many have not unreasonably conceived it more advisable to withdraw such scenes of vice from the eye of youth, than to paint them with the minuteness and vivid colouring of truth. But, even allowing that an inconsiderate young person may have occasionally been deterred from an intrigue by the sad history of Callistus and Melibœa, yet the whole dramatic tale, both in the subject and execution, is nevertheless revolting to good taste. The story is as follows:—Callistus, a young man of noble family, entertains a romantic passion for Melibœa. The young lady is also attached to him; but her own prudence, as well as the strict observation to which she is subject in the house of her parents, prevents all communication between the lovers. In this difficulty, Callistus applies to an artful and abandoned woman, to whom the author has given the elegant name of Celestina. She easily devises a pretence for insinuating herself into the house of Melibœa’s parents, where she succeeds in bribing the servants. The intrigue then proceeds in the most common manner, though the author thinks it necessary to call in the aid of witchcraft and magic. Callistus at length attains his object, and Melibœa’s parents discover the mischief when it is too late. Murder is committed among the servants of Melibœa; Celestina’s house likewise becomes the scene of bloodshed; the profligate woman is herself murdered in the most horrible manner imaginable; Callistus is assassinated, and Melibœa closes the tragedy by throwing herself from the top of a lofty tower. Such is the ground-work of the twenty-one acts of this tragi-comedy. It must be admitted, that the authors appear to have wished to paint the scenes in the house of Celestina in as decorous a manner as the nature of the subject would permit. The profligate personages, particularly Celestina, are drawn with great truth; and in the list of the characters their description is unreservedly added to their names. The first act, which is by the unknown author, is distinguished above the rest for the easy flow of the dialogue.[130] Considered in this point of view alone, the work is extremely interesting. It affords a fair proof that the fluent and natural style of conversation which the dramatic poets of the north did not attain, until after much labour and repeated failures, arose spontaneously in Spain, on the first attempt made by a writer of talent to make dramatic characters speak in prose.[131] This tragi-comedy, as it is styled, has, however, but little relation to poetry.[132]

FURTHER ACCOUNT OF SPANISH PROSE.
RISE OF THE HISTORICAL ART—EARLY PROGRESS OF THE EPISTOLARY STYLE.

In a history of Spanish prose of the fifteenth century, it would be improper to omit a brief notice of the chronicles, which, in Spain, at this period, were not written by monks, as in other parts of Europe, but by knights, many of whom were at the same time poets. The custom instituted by Alphonso X. of appointing historiographers to record the most remarkable events of national history, was maintained by his successors throughout the fourteenth century; and, in addition to those historians, who were regularly appointed and paid, there arose others in the fifteenth century, who wrote of their own accord from the love of fame, or for the sake of doing honour to the parties to which they were respectively attached. Historians were never held in such high estimation in modern Europe as they were at this time in Castile.

But notwithstanding the fortunate circumstances which combined to revive the taste for historical composition in Spain, the noble authors of the Spanish chronicles in very few instances rose above the vulgar chronicle style. They faithfully adhered to the language of the historical books of the bible. In nothing is their poetic talent disclosed, except in a better choice of expression, than is to be found in the common chronicles, which were in general written by monks. Spirited and adequate historical description was totally unknown to them. They all wrote in nearly the same manner. Facts were heaped on facts, in long monotonous sentences, which uniformly commenced with the conjunction and. Occasionally, indeed, the writers of these chronicles seem to have made attempts to imitate the ancient historians; for at every favourable opportunity little speeches are put into the mouths of the characters they record; but these speeches are given either in the language of scripture or the law. Thus wrote the illustrious Perez de Guzman, who was celebrated among the poets of his age; and thus wrote the grand Chancellor of Castile, Pedro Lopez de Ayala, who is better known than the former as an historian, in consequence of having compiled from ancient chronicles a connected history of the kings of Castile of the fourteenth century.[133]

An agreeable surprise is, however, excited in discovering among these chronicles some biographical works, one of which was probably written in the last years of the fourteenth century, and another, doubtless, belongs to the fifteenth. These two productions deserve to be noticed, but in a rhetorical point of view neither can be very highly estimated. The first is the history of Count Pedro Niño de Buelna, one of the bravest knights of the reign of Henry III. The author is Gutierre Diez de Games, who was the Count’s standard-bearer.[134] The gothic taste of the age, it must be confessed, is sufficiently apparent in this history. The chivalrous author begins by apostrophizing the Trinity and the Holy Virgin. He then reasons methodically on virtue and vice, according to the scholastic notions of morality. It is, however, easy to perceive that the author has taken great pains to avoid the dry chronicle style. He evidently wished to give to the history of his hero the interest of a romance. He did not, therefore, confine himself very scrupulously to historical truth, and he has even blended fabulous stories in his narrative. But on the other hand he paints real events with a degree of spirit of which no example is to be found in the chronicles; and some of his descriptions are so remarkable for precision, and accuracy of expression, that they might be mistaken for the production of a modern writer, if the simplicity of the ideas did not betray the age to which the chivalrous author belonged.[135]

The second of these biographical works is the history of Count Alvaro de Luna. The author, whose name is not known, appears to have been in the Count’s service, and to have taken up the pen soon after the execution of that extraordinary man, to raise a monument to his memory in defiance of his enemies.[136] The work is in fact an apology, in which the enthusiasm of the anonymous author for his hero carries him beyond the bounds of historical calmness and of impartiality. But this very enthusiasm gives the work a degree of rhetorical interest, which is wanting in the chronicles. Alvaro de Luna is regarded by his apologist in his real character; namely, as the greatest, if not the most disinterested man of his age in Spain: and it was the author’s intention that the animated picture he drew should mortify and shame the powerful party which overthrew his hero. His zeal frequently betrays him into declamatory pomp. But what other Spanish writer of that age could declaim with so much eloquence.[137] He is not, however, always declamatory. His introduction, notwithstanding the high elevation of the ideas, possesses real dignity of expression, combined with the true harmony of prose.[138] His apostrophe to truth at the close of this introduction, is a genuine overflowing of the heart.[139] It is true that the narrative itself somewhat inclines to the manner of the chronicles; but the spirit which pervades the whole work is perceptible even in the style which, considered with reference to the period in which it was written, is remarkable for precision and facility.[140] In short, this biographical chronicle, estimated by its rhetorical merit, has, in spite of all its gothic ornaments and declamatory excrescences, no parallel among the chronicles of the age to which it belongs.

Los Claros Varones, the Celebrated Men, is a work which claims particular attention. The author is Fernando del Pulgar, who filled the office of historiographer in the reign of Isabella and Ferdinand. This ingenious man was ambitious to be thought the Plutarch of his nation. In his twenty-six short biographical sketches, he has, however, confined himself within limits too narrow to effect all that he was capable of; but the precision of his descriptions, and the purity of his style, are nevertheless remarkable for the age in which he flourished.[141]

Fernando del Pulgar is also the oldest Castilian author in the epistolary style; and upon the whole he may be regarded as the first, who, in the character of a statesman and public functionary, formed his correspondence in a modern language on the model of Cicero and Pliny.[142]

Those who have time and opportunity to peruse Spanish manuscripts of the fifteenth century, will doubtless find many more documents to prove the high degree of cultivation which Spanish prose had attained at that period. In spite of the lofty poetic flight which then characterized the genius of Spain, and the powerful charm of the poetic prose of the chivalrous romances, the national gravity of the Spaniards, when their minds were directed, not to sports of the imagination, but to things, made them incline to what may be termed the style of affairs, in the same degree as the genius of the Italians, which attached itself exclusively to beautiful forms, had been accustomed to manifest an indifference for true prose. The philosophic writings of Aristotle were, in the same age, translated into Spanish by a scholar, whose name, as well as his work, have fallen into oblivion.[143]

JUAN DE LA ENZINA’S ART OF CASTILIAN POETRY.

The literature of this period possesses, however, not the slightest trace of true criticism. Though the poetical and rhetorical rules of Aristotle were known to a few scholars, they were of little utility to writers who either applied them erroneously, or considered them impracticable. Of the state of poetry in Spain, during the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, a correct notion may be formed from a Treatise on Castilian Poetry, (Arte de Poesia Castellana,) by Juan de la Enzina. In this work, addressed to the Prince Royal of Spain, the author wished to prove that he thoroughly understood the art on which he wrote, and that he was not an unskilful Troubadour.[144] The commencement of the treatise might teach the reader to expect some profound investigation. Juan de la Enzina observes, “that poetry is so excellent an art, that it merits the particular favour of princes and nobles”, who being reared “in the bosom of sweet philosophy,”[145] know how to unite the virtues both of peace and war; it was therefore, he continues, his intention to write a theory (arte) of Castilian poetry, which might facilitate the distinction between good and bad. He treats of the origin of poetry among the ancients and among the Italians, and marks the difference between a poet and a Troubadour. The former, he says, is, with respect to the latter, “what a composer or learned musician is to a singer or musical performer, a geometrician to a mason, or a captain to a private soldier.”[146] After all these high promises, Juan de la Enzina merely gives an Essay on Castilian prosody in a few chapters. Such is his art of poetry.

Thus did Castilian poetry and eloquence develope itself in the ancient national forms, during the first centuries that succeeded its birth, without any superior genius having either raised it to higher perfection, or enlarged its boundaries. Like the Gaya Ciencia of the Troubadours, it was a common property, protected by a literary democracy, which allowed no despotic genius to encroach upon its rights. It is difficult to imagine what might have been the fate of Castilian poetry, had not a new political connection formed between Spain and Italy, at the commencement of the sixteenth century, suddenly brought the Spanish nation, as it were in mass, in contact with the Italians. At all events, the Spaniards must, in the progress of cultivation, have ceased to be satisfied with the poetry of their old songs and romances, on their literary taste becoming in any way more refined.

BOOK II.
FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE SIXTEENTH TO THE LATTER HALF OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

INTRODUCTION.
GENERAL VIEW OF THE STATE OF POETICAL AND RHETORICAL CULTIVATION IN SPAIN DURING THE ABOVE PERIOD.

The union of the kingdoms of Castile and Arragon, in consequence of the marriage of Isabella, the heiress of the Castilian throne, with Ferdinand king of Arragon, forms an epoch in Spanish literature, as well as in Spanish power. Hitherto Spain had been occupied only with her own internal affairs. The monarchs contended for their prerogatives with the powerful barons of their respective states; and the two kingdoms waged war against each other. The only object which they pursued in common, was the overthrow of the Moorish principality of Granada, which was enabled to resist them, as long as their political jealousy of each other counter-balanced their mutual zeal for religion and conquest. Spain, in her detached situation to the west of the Pyrenees, never appeared so completely separated from the rest of Europe as in the middle of the fifteenth century. With Italy, Spain maintained no relations, except such as were purely ecclesiastical. A marked change, however, took place on the union of the crowns of Castile and Arragon, though the union of the two monarchies was not properly consolidated until after Ferdinand’s death, which happened in 1516. Since the year 1492, Granada had been a Castilian province. The poets had no longer the feats of the Zegris and Abencerrages to record; and the Spanish knights had no infidels to vanquish, unless they travelled to Africa in quest of them. If, however, they were successful in that quarter of the world, their victories did not present subjects of such interest to the Castilian muse as former achievements had afforded. The love of industry and social order, which distinguished the people of Arragon, at length extended to Castile; and the old chivalrous spirit declined in proportion as the use of gunpowder, which was at this period rapidly increasing, became more general. The manners of the Spaniards of both monarchies, had now approximated to those of the Italians; and the analogy between the Castilian and Italian languages, could not fail to be remarked, whenever opportunities for making that observation occurred. Ferdinand soon afforded such an opportunity; his ambition induced him to take an active part in the transactions of Italy, and his interference was attended with success. The victorious Gonsalvo Fernandez de Cordova, admired as the conqueror of Granada, and a second Cid, and surnamed, by way of distinction, El gran Capitan, presented the crown of Naples to his sovereign in the year 1504. The political union which then took place between Spain and Italy, and which continued longer than a century, paved the way for that influence of the Italian poetry on the Spanish, which soon after became manifest.

About the same period that Ferdinand and Isabella united their dominions, they also co-operated in the establishment of that terrible tribunal which soon became known throughout Europe by the name of the Spanish Inquisition, and which to the disgrace of human reason exercised during two centuries and a half its monstrous powers in their fullest extent. A crafty policy contrived to render religion its instrument, in subjugating to one common tyranny the reason and the rights of mankind; for the establishment of regal despotism in both kingdoms was the great object of this institution, and its whole organization corresponded with the end for which it was destined. The pope, who penetrated the design of the founders, viewed their proceedings with much dissatisfaction; but even the pope was obliged to support the pretended interest of the church, and to honour Ferdinand by bestowing on him, as a peculiar distinction, the title of “Catholic King.” Thus the court of Rome contributed to annul the privileges of the Cortes of Castile and Arragon, and to invest the whole powers of government, without limitation, in the hands of an absolute monarch: and thus did political artifice triumph over the energy of one of the noblest nations in the world, at the very moment when the genius of that nation had begun to expand, when the promising flower had burst forth from the bud, and was about to unfold itself in full vigour and beauty. A simultaneous and concordant cultivation of the different powers of the human mind was now as little to be hoped for in Spain as the improvement of her political constitution. Under these circumstances the literary genius of the country could not be expected to reach that high maturity of taste which always presupposes a certain degree of harmony in the moral and intellectual faculties. Poetic freedom was circumscribed by the same shackles which fettered moral liberty. Thoughts which could not be expressed without fear of the dungeon and the stake, were no longer materials for the poet to work on. His imagination instead of improving them into poetic ideas, and embodying them in beautiful verse, had to be taught to reject them. But the eloquence of prose was more completely bowed down under the inquisitorial yoke than poetry, because it was more closely allied to truth, which, of all things, was the most dreaded.

The yoke of this odious tribunal weighed, however, far less heavily on the imagination than on the other faculties of the mind; and it must be confessed that a wide field still remained open for the range of fancy, though the boundaries of religious doctrine were not permitted to be overstepped. To suppose that the Spanish inquisition could have entirely annihilated the poetic genius of the nation, it must also be supposed, that at the period of its establishment, there had existed a style of poetry altogether hostile to such an institution, and that the spirit of the inquisition was directly opposed to the spirit of the nation. But it would be forming a false notion of the horrors of the inquisition, to imagine that they were ever felt in Spain in the same manner as in other countries, and particularly in the Netherlands, where that tribunal was introduced hand in hand with foreign despotism. When the inquisition was established in Spain, it harmonized to all appearance, that is to say, as far as orthodox faith was concerned, with the prevailing opinions of the Spanish Christians. It was ostensibly directed not so much against heretics as against infidels, namely, Mahometans and Jews. Its operations were accordingly commenced by waging war against those infidels, for no sect of Christian heretics existed at that period in Spain, and the inquisition took care that none should be afterwards formed. To maintain the purity of the ancient faith was the avowed object of the inquisition; and its wrath was poured out on the unfortunate Jews, Moors, and Moriscos, (the descendants of the Moors), with the view of removing every blemish from the faith of a nation, which prided itself in its orthodoxy. This bigotted pride was a consequence of the contest maintained in Spain during four centuries and a half, between Catholic Christianity and Mahometanism. The Spanish Christians celebrated the conquest of Granada as the triumph of the church; and the inquisition, which at first excited terror, soon became an object of veneration with men in whose hearts religious enthusiasm was inseparably blended with patriotism.

This view of the subject may serve to explain how it happened in the sequel, and particularly during the reign of Philip II. that while, throughout all the rest of Europe men shuddered at the very name of the Spanish inquisition, the Spaniards still lived under it as happily and cheerfully as ever; and also how, from the operation of the same cause, the ecclesiastical shackles had not a more injurious effect on the developement of the poetic genius of the nation. The conduct of the inquisition was no subject of alarm to those who were confident that they never could have any personal concern with it; for the suspicion of deficiency in Catholic orthodoxy, the ground on which that tribunal acted, was more degrading in Spain than the most odious crimes in other countries. Before the establishment of the inquisition, fanaticism was so firmly rooted in the minds of the Spaniards, that all scepticism in matters of religion was abhorred as a deadly sin. He, however, who submitted with blind devotion to the decrees of the church, was held to have a clear conscience, and in that sort of clear conscience the Spaniards prided themselves. The inquisition disturbed the good Catholic as little in his social enjoyments, as criminal justice the citizen who lived in conformity with the laws. The Spaniard was cruel only to heretics and infidels, because he thought it his duty to hate them; but in the orthodox bosom of his native country, he was animated by a spirit of gaiety of which the literature of Spain presents abundant proofs. While the Duke of Alba in the Netherlands ruled with the axe of the executioner, Cervantes, in Spain, wrote his Don Quixote, and Lope de Vega, who himself held a post connected with the inquisition, produced his admirable comedies. The dramatic literature of Spain flourished with most brilliancy during the reigns of the three Philips, from 1556 to 1665, and that is precisely the period when the Spanish inquisition exercised its power with the greatest rigour and the most sanguinary cruelty. Many melancholy traces of fanaticism are certainly observable in the literature of Spain during the reigns of the three Philips; but those traces are so insulated, and the painful impression which they naturally produce on liberal minds is so far compensated, by the noblest traits of humanity, that to him, who, from reading the works of the Spanish poets, should turn to the perusal of the political history of the Spaniards during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and particularly to the history of their transactions in the Netherlands and America, it might well appear that he had become acquainted with two distinct nations.

Indeed, notwithstanding the generally prejudicial effects of the restrictions imposed by the inquisition on intellectual freedom, those restrictions could not fail, under the circumstances which have been described, to prove in one respect favourable to the polite literature of Spain. The poetic genius which, at the period of the establishment of this tribunal, was energetically developing itself throughout the Peninsula, was not now to be annihilated. Its strength was even augmented by that growing national pride, which the union of the Castilian and Arragonian monarchies fostered. During the period marked by the reign of Charles I. better known by his Germanic imperial title of Charles V. which was nearly half a century, namely, from the year 1516 to the year 1555, the Austrian and Spanish monarchies were also united, and Spain acquired rich possessions in a new quarter of the world. The Spanish arms were not so victorious under the three Philips as under Charles V. But, sacrificed as this gallant nation was to fanaticism and the most despicable of governments, its spirit never sunk under disaster, and its genius vented itself in the cultivation of poetry, because it was excluded by religious despotism from every graver study, except the scholastic philosophy of the convent. It is also to be considered, that the influence of the ever debasing despotism of the Spanish government could operate only gradually in extinguishing the energies of national genius. The bold manifestation of the spirit of freedom in Castile and Arragon on the accession of Charles V. was attended with discouraging results, because the nobility and the third estate did not unite in support of their common interests. Had that union existed, Spain would probably have presented the first model of a constitutional, and at the same time a vigorous monarchy. That honour was withheld by fate: but the genius of the Spanish people was not so easily suppressed as their political and religious freedom. Kings might rule as they pleased; they might madly shed the blood of their subjects, or waste the treasures drawn from America; but the people, who had yielded to despotism only for the sake of religion, continued in their hearts to be what they had always been, till the influence of time consummated their subjugation. The Spanish patriot, who fought in the cause of his king and country, was until then, in his own estimation, still a free man. Kings received homage in verse as well as in prose; but a court poetry, like that which existed in France in the reign of Lewis XIV. was never known in Spain. The kings of Spain, too, never bestowed any very liberal encouragement on the poetic literature of their country. Charles V. honoured a few Spanish and Italian poets with some degree of attention, according to the fashion of the princes of that age; for in the sixteenth century a poet was accounted an extremely useful man for business of every sort; but that sovereign seems to have taken a more particular interest in Italian than in Spanish literature. Philip II. from his joyless throne, occasionally cast a glance of favour on a man of talent; but restless ambition and blind bigotry occupied his gloomy mind, and deprived him of all susceptibility for the beautiful. His son, Philip III. though of a more amiable character, was too indolent to take a warm interest in any thing whatever. Philip IV. however, did more for Spanish literature than any of his predecessors since the time of John II. His taste for pomp and splendour, to which he thoughtlessly gave himself up, while decay and disorder preyed upon the vitals of the state, disposed him to favour the Spanish theatre. Calderon, whom he pensioned, was indebted to him for that leisure which enabled him to devote his life to dramatic poetry. But Calderon only improved on the labours of predecessors, who, without receiving the pay of kings, produced works which did honour to the nation, and were approved and rewarded by the public. Spanish literature owes nothing to kings, and has to thank only the popular spirit for all its brightest flowers. The drama, therefore, remained wholly national, even after the imitation of Italian forms had long prevailed in the lyric and epic poetry of Spain. Writers for the stage must of necessity obey the voice of a public possessing sufficient energy of character to condemn every piece which does not pay homage to the popular taste. The whole history of the Spanish theatre exhibits this dominion of the public over authors; and the particular taste of the dramatists being formed under the influence of the general poetic genius of the nation, they very willingly, like Lope de Vega, followed the stream, even though, like him, they well knew what the true theory of their art required. The cultivation of prose was more completely left to the individual taste of the authors; but any instance of encouragement from the throne was as uncommon with respect to it as to poetry. Antonio de Solis, who received a pension from Philip IV. as historiographer, for writing the History of Spanish America, was indebted for that honour in some measure to his reputation as a poet, and his various acquirements, but by no means for any particular esteem he had obtained on account of his talent for prose composition.

During the whole of this period, however, intellectual talents were never undervalued, either by the kings, or the nobles of Spain. In that country, as well as in Italy, the higher orders considered it a duty to seek distinction through learning, and poetry was the soul both of Spanish and Italian literature. Most of the Spanish poets of this period, if not of noble birth, belonged, at least, to families of consideration. Heroes, statesmen, ecclesiastics, all composed verses, and poetry was most intimately interwoven with all the relations of social life. No where did chivalrous gallantry so long survive the extinction of real chivalry as in Spain; and poetry was the exhaustless language of that gallantry, whether it displayed itself in secret love intrigues, or at public entertainments and festivals. Every characteristic national amusement, as for instance, a bull fight, proved an incitement to the writing of sonnets and romances. There are found in various Spanish poems of this period many expressions and allusions which have reference to popular amusements, but the poetic sense of which is only intelligible to readers who bear in their recollection the favourite diversions of the nation. The romantic intrigues which were common in high life, formed models for the intricate plots of the Spanish comedies; but no ordinary powers of invention were necessary to enable the dramatic author to maintain on the stage a competition with the scenes which actually occurred in society. Throughout the whole country, singing and dancing were essential ingredients in every amusement. Learned musical composition had, at this time, little attraction for the Spaniards; but wherever joy was, musicians were not wanting, and every dance had its song.

In the mean time the cultivation of the other fine arts, afforded little aid to Spanish poetry, as the overwhelming interest attached to it in its golden age directed the intellectual energies of the nation almost exclusively to that one object. All other liberal pursuits were consequently left far behind.

Spanish taste was, at this period, entirely left to form itself, being abandoned to the influence of Italian literature, and the authority of eminent national authors. The Italian system of academies found little favour in Spain. Perhaps the jealousy of the inquisition foreboded evil from meetings of men of letters. Be this as it may, Spanish literature sustained little loss by the want of those institutions. The Royal Academy for the Spanish language and literature was not established until the eighteenth century.

The intimate union, which, during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, subsisted between the eloquence of prose and poetry in Spain, renders a separate history of each unnecessary. A division may, however, be advantageously made in the whole body of the Spanish literature of this period, though the two sections cannot form two distinct epochs. From the introduction of the Italian style into Spanish poetry, until the decline of learning in the latter years of the reign of Philip IV. no literary revolution was experienced in Spain. The corrupters of taste, as certain writers who appeared in the latter half of this period are called by some of the Spanish critics, only continued a movement, the impulse of which had been given long before by various authors, and particularly by the dramatic poets. Several of these writers were contemporaries with authors who placed a high value on classical correctness, and yet they exercised a much greater influence over the general literature of Spain than the latter. To confound Calderon, who perfected the Spanish comedy, according to its true national character, with the corrupters of taste, is an idea which could only have been entertained in the eighteenth century, when it became customary in Spain, as every where else, to measure all productions of genius by the rules of French criticism. But at the same time, that Spanish poetry approximated as closely to the Italian, as the necessary connection of the former with the national style would permit, that national style, with all its faults and beauties, still maintained the pre-eminence; and the passion for Italian correctness again declined. This crisis in Spanish literature, occasioned by the struggle between Italian refinement and the bold eccentricity of the national manners, occurred in the age of Cervantes. At that time Lope de Vega shone with more brilliancy in the eyes of his countrymen than Cervantes, and the party of the former gained the victory and kept the field. The taking of a distinct view of the progress of poetry and eloquence in Spain, will therefore be facilitated, if the period of the influence of Cervantes and Lope de Vega be made an historical resting point. It is doubtless very remarkable, that Cervantes, who created an epoch in the general literature of Europe, should not have produced sufficient effect on the Literature of his own country, to justify the choosing him as the founder of a new epoch in its literary history. An opportunity will hereafter arise for reverting to this subject.[147]

FIRST SECTION.
History of Spanish Poetry and Eloquence, from the Introduction of the Italian Style to the Age of Cervantes and Lope de Vega.

OCCASION OF THE INTRODUCTION OF THE ITALIAN STYLE.

After the complete consolidation of the monarchies of Castile and Arragon by the accession of Charles of Austria, the grandson of Isabella and Ferdinand, there appears to have been, for a short time, a suspension of all literary activity in Spain. The political convulsions which then agitated the interior of the two united kingdoms, occupied the public mind too powerfully to allow any interest to be felt in calmer and more agreeable objects. But as soon as the civil contests were terminated by the success of the Austrian party, and the enterprising Charles, incited by Francis I. employed the force of his Spanish states to win new dominions in Italy, the poetic genius of Spain revived in all its pristine vigour. In the meantime, the ancient dialect of the Arragonian provinces began to be supplanted by the Castilian, which became the language of the state and of public business throughout Spain. Castile was then considered the heart of the whole monarchy. Madrid rose to the rank of the capital of Spain, and Saragossa sunk into the condition of a provincial town. It was therefore no very extraordinary event, that a Catalonian, whose maternal language still possessed a certain degree of poetic consideration, should, in connection with a Castilian, produce a revolution in Castilian poetry.

BOSCAN.

Juan Boscan Almogavèr, who, in concert with his friend Garcilaso de la Vega, introduced the Italian style into Castilian poetry, was born in Barcelona, towards the close of the fifteenth century. He belonged to one of the Patrician families of that city, of equal rank with the nobility of the country. Though possessing a liberal education, and sufficient fortune to enable him to gratify his inclination for literary studies, without regard to any secondary views, he embarked, notwithstanding, on his first outset in life for a short period in the profession of arms. He afterwards travelled, but the countries he visited are not mentioned in the brief notices which remain of him. If, however, it be supposed that he went at this time to Italy, and rendered himself intimately acquainted with the literature of that country, it appears that he was still far from entertaining the idea of transplanting the forms and manner of Italian poetry into Spain; for the Castilian verses, which he wrote in his youth, were all in the ancient lyric style, which, since the time of Juan de Mena no one had thought it necessary to try to improve. It was not until 1526, when, after having flourished at the court of Charles V. he had made a happy marriage, and was settled in his native city, that a Venetian induced him to imitate the Italian poetry in the Castilian language. The emperor resided for some time in Granada; and, among the foreign ministers who repaired to his court, was Andrea Navagero, the envoy from Venice, a man of great literary and historical knowledge, and, like every well-educated Italian of that age, a writer of canzoni and sonnets. Boscan, having formed an intimate friendship with this minister, was taught by him to view the Italian poetry and also the classical latin in quite a new light. The Spanish lyric poetry, which with all its gothic excrescences was still pleasing to the nation, if not so barbarous in his eyes as in those of his Italian friend, appeared to him, when compared with a sonnet of Petrarch, at least, in the point of good taste greatly inferior. He now readily perceived the nature and felt the value of the precision and correctness of the great works of antiquity. Animated by his new ideas, he fearlessly ventured to follow the counsel of Navagero, in spite of the menacing clamour of the friends of the old national forms. He took upon himself the character of a reformer of the lyric poetry of his nation, and commenced his labours by writing sonnets in the manner of Petrarch.

The metrical structure of the sonnet had long been known in Spain;[148] but the genius of Castilian poetry was adverse to that form, and the Spaniards had manifested very little predilection for any thing like the elegant correctness of Petrarch. Boscan had therefore elevated himself above the literature of his country, when he perceived that it was necessary to infuse a new spirit into Castilian poetry before it could be reconciled to the Italian forms. His friend Garcilaso de la Vega participated in this opinion. But thousands of voices were raised against the reformers. Some insisted that preference was to be given to the old Castilian verse on the ground of euphony. Others went further, and asserted that the ear could perceive no distinction between the new verse and prose. Finally, a third party discovered that Italian poetry was effeminate, and was fit only for Italians and women. Boscan relates that this violent opposition made him reflect seriously on the propriety of proceeding with his design; but as he was soon convinced of the futility of the reasons urged against him, he persisted in his undertaking. His party rapidly increased and soon obtained the superiority, not indeed throughout the whole mass of the public, but in that portion of society which was most enlightened and refined.[149]

The other circumstances of Boscan’s life, in so far as they are known, have little interest for the literary historian. The mature part of his age was chiefly spent in his native city Barcelona, or in the neighbouring country. The urbanity of his manners and his talents recommended him to the family of Alba, which was then one of the most brilliant of the noble houses of Castile, and to which the homage of the Spanish poets was from that time constantly paid. Boscan was for some time Ayo, or first governor of the young Don Fernando de Alba, who was afterwards the terror of the enemies of the Spanish monarchy. He appears, however, to have soon resigned this employment, in order to divide his time between study and the society of literary friends. The year in which he died is not exactly known; it is only ascertained that his death happened before the year 1544.[150] He prepared for the press a collection of his poems, to which he added those of his friend Garcilaso; but the work was not published until after his death.[151]

From the point at which Boscan found Castilian poetry, to that in which it was necessary it should be placed before he could open for himself a new path, the distance was considerable, and the transition was to be accomplished by a single bound. That he succeeded in this undertaking was owing not so much to his genius, as to a natural susceptibility for the real beauties of Italian and ancient poetry, accidentally excited at the favourable moment, and to a talent for the imitation of classical models, without altogether discarding that tone of feeling which was properly his own. To estimate, however, the full value of Boscan’s talent, it is not only necessary to examine the works by which he introduced a new style into Spanish poetry, but to take a retrospective view of the productions of the Castilian muse in the ancient manner. It is only by this comparison that a just conception can be formed of the surprise with which the Spaniards must have regarded the bold attempt of Boscan. He was the first among his countrymen who had an idea of classical perfection in works of imagination; and though the greater part of his poems fall below that standard, they all afford evidence of his endeavours to reach it. An aspiration so entirely unaffected and unembarrassed, had never been manifested by any previous Spanish poet. Between the kind of poetry which he introduced into his native land and that which he abandoned, there was no visible passage. But lest the merits of Boscan should be too highly rated, it is proper to observe, that at this time a reform of the Spanish poetry, precisely such as that to which his efforts gave birth, was, notwithstanding the clamour of his opponents, desired by the more cultivated part of the Spanish public, though, perhaps, there no where existed any distinct perception of the wished-for object. Had it been otherwise, Boscan must have stood alone, and the numerous poets of his nation, who have equalled or surpassed him in the new style, never would have followed his example.

The early productions of Boscan, which form the first book of his works, are scarcely distinguishable by any trace of superior delicacy or correctness from the poems of the same descriptions contained in the Cancionero general. The very title of the longest of these youthful essays, namely, Mar de Amor (the Sea of Love) excites an anticipation of the fantastic flights of the old Spanish muse; and it is impossible to read the first strophe without being convinced that the author still adhered to the original character of Castilian song.[152] It was, however, only at the request of his friend Garcilaso de la Vega, who said that he received from these poems the same sort of pleasure as from pretty children, that Boscan renounced his intention of entirely suppressing them.

The second book of Boscan’s poems, contains sonetos and canciones, in the style of the Italian sonetti and canzoni. They all betray, in a greater or less degree, the disciple of the school of Petrarch; but the spirit of Spanish poetry still displays itself throughout the whole. The language, though it successfully imitates the precision of Petrarch, seldom attains the sweetly flowing melody of its model. In painting the feelings, the shadows are charged with stronger colours than the Italian Petrarchists of the sixteenth century permitted themselves to employ. Impetuous passion, which, with higher pretensions, was, on account of its very violence, less capable of commanding sympathy than a mild enthusiasm, strikingly distinguished Boscan’s poetry from that which was the object of his imitation. The contrast was farther increased by the constantly recurring picture of a struggle between passion and reason. But these were precisely the traits which disclosed the true Spanish character. It was not individual feeling that prevented Boscan from equalling the delicacy and softness of the Italian sonetto and canzone, for as his biography, and still more his other poems, shew he was a man of a very mild disposition. But it was necessary that the language of love, to appear natural and true to a Spaniard, should burn and rage. At the same time, to satisfy Spanish taste, reason was to be introduced to deliver her precepts amidst the storm of passion, to prove its force by her feebleness, and to give to lyric composition a moral gravity which was not desired by the Italians. In so far however as the Spanish character permitted the experiment to go, the fascinating tone of Petrarch was very happily seized by Boscan;[153] and in the expression of tender passion he has even sometimes surpassed the Italian poet.[154]

The greater part of the third book of these poems is occupied by a paraphrastic translation of the Greek poem of Hero and Leander. Nothing of the kind had been previously known in the Spanish language. The metrical form which Boscan chose for his translation, was that of rhymeless iambics, or an imitation of the blank verse of the Italians. The language is so pure and elegant, the versification so natural, and the tone of the narrative so soft, and at the same time so elevated, that it is impossible not to be pleased even with the prolixity which the influence of the taste for romantic poetry has introduced into this free translation. To this translation succeeds a poem in the Italian style, entitled a Capitulo, and some epistles in tercets. The Capitulo, as it is called, is a love elegy, abounding in pleasing ideas and images, but on the whole too much spun out, like most Italian poems of the same kind. It has also its full share of genuine Spanish hyperbole and amorous despair.[155] The best of his epistles is, “The Answer to Diego Mendoza,” who was himself the first epistolary poet among the Spaniards, and whom it will soon be necessary to notice more at length. After the new poetical career was opened, these authors vied in imitating the epistles of Horace; but it is plain that the elegiac tenderness of Tibullus was constantly present to the mind of Boscan. In his Answer to Mendoza, the descriptions of domestic and rural life charm by their exquisite delicacy, and possess a still more powerful interest than the moral reflections, though these are unaffected and noble, and conceived in the true spirit of didactic poetry.[156]

Boscan’s works conclude with a narrative poem in the Italian style, which has no other title than that which denotes the structure of the verse, namely, octava rima. Some ideas and images are borrowed from the Italian poets; but the whole invention and the execution of the greater part of the details belong to Boscan. The merit of the fable, however, is not great. A mythological allegory, describing the empire of love, forms the introduction to a poetical relation of a festal meeting of Venus, Cupid, and the other inhabitants of that imaginary region. Little Cupids are dispatched all over the world by Venus to defend her against the reproaches of unreasonable men, and to make known the real blessings of love. One of those winged envoys directs his course towards Barcelona, the natal city of the poet, gives a particular account of his mission to the fair ladies of that town, and takes the opportunity of saying many gallant things to them. As to the construction of the fable of this poem, Boscan certainly gave himself very little trouble. His object appears merely to have been to compose a romantic picture of greater extent than a sonnet or a cancion, and to make his countrymen sensible of the charm of descriptive poetry in the Italian manner. It is impossible not to admire the grace and facility with which Boscan has accomplished this purpose. The descriptions are so animated,[157] and all the details so elegant and engaging, that the tediousness of some of the parts is amply compensated by the happy execution of the whole. Light plays of fancy embellish the lyric and romantic passages; and, upon the whole, this is a work which no other of the same kind by later Spanish poets has excelled.[158]

If a comprehensive view be taken of the merits of Boscan, it will be impossible, notwithstanding the striking faults which appear in his works, and particularly in his sonnets, to withhold from him the title of the first classical poet of Spain. Some of his expressions are now antiquated, but upon the whole his language has continued a model for succeeding ages. Simplicity and dignity had never, in the same degree, and under a form so correct, been united with poetic truth and feeling by any previous Spanish author. The partizans of the old national poetry reproached him with being an imitator; but without the kind of imitation by which he naturalized in his language a taste for the literature of Italy and the ancient classics, it would have been impossible for Spanish poetry to have gained that field in which it afterwards competed with the Italian. That he did not obtrude upon his countrymen a kind of poetry irreconcilable with the genius of the language and the national character, is evident from the rapidity with which the new taste spread over the whole of Spain, and extended into Portugal, and from its duration in both kingdoms. The poetic innovators, at whose head Boscan stood, were certainly blameable, in so far as they wished to banish entirely the ancient Spanish style, which was also, in its own manner, susceptible of classical improvement. But it is doubtful whether the partizans of that style would have thought of perfecting it after classical models, had not the disciples of the Italian school unexpectedly shewn the high cultivation of which Spanish poetry was capable under new forms. This Boscan first made manifest, not by critical reasoning, but by example; and his modesty contributed not a little to attract to his party the more liberal minded of his countrymen. Had he commenced his reform by trying to beat down the old style with theoretical argument, or egotistical declamation, he would only have rendered himself an object of ridicule; for the public he had to deal with was not indisposed to improvement, but would not submit to have lessons read to it magisterially.

After Boscan, his friends, who participated in the fame of that reform to which he shewed the way, are justly entitled to the next place in the history of Spanish poetry.

GARCILASO DE LA VEGA.

The first Spanish poet who followed the example of Boscan was Garcilaso de la Vega, a young Castilian, descended from a family of consideration in Toledo, and born, according to the statements of different authors, either in 1500 or 1503. His poetic talent was early developed, and he had written several lyric pieces in the old Spanish style, when his acquaintance with Boscan, which soon grew into friendship, commenced. The character of the poetry of the ancients and of Italy was then seen by him in a new light. He proceeded with ardour to the study of classical models, and of Petrarch and Virgil in particular. The improvement of pastoral poetry in his native tongue, appears to have been his first object. But it was his lot to follow the restless profession of arms; and the wars of Charles V. carried him abroad, and dragged him from country to country. In the year 1529, he distinguished himself in the Spanish corps, which was attached to the imperial army opposed to the Turks. While in Vienna he was involved in a romantic intrigue, between a near relation of his own and a lady of the court. The imperial dignity, it appears, was conceived to be compromised by this intrigue, and Garcilaso was punished for his interference by imprisonment in an Island of the Danube. There he composed one of his canciones, in which he bewails his destiny, but at the same time celebrates the Danube and the countries through which it flows.[159] His imprisonment probably was not of long duration. In the year 1535, he served in the adventurous expedition of Charles V. against Tunis, in which he acquired both glory and wounds. In Naples and Sicily, he devoted, as far as circumstances would permit, his moments of relaxation to poetry. He execrated war, and exerted all the powers of his imagination in painting an Arcadian pastoral life, but still remained a soldier.[160] It may be presumed, however, that his military talents were not inconsiderable, for when the imperial army in the year 1536, penetrated into the South of France, Garcilaso de la Vega, who could then be only thirty-three, or at most thirty-six years of age, commanded eleven companies of infantry. That campaign, which did not terminate so fortunately as it commenced, was the last to Garcilaso, and tore him from the world in the bloom of life. The emperor in person ordered him to take by assault, a fort, the garrison of which harrassed the army in its retreat. Garcilaso executed this command with more gallantry than prudence. He wished to be the first to scale the walls. He attained his object, but was struck with a stone on the head, and thrown down from the ramparts. Being mortally wounded, he was removed to Nice, where, a few weeks after, he died.

It would be difficult to discover from the works of Garcilaso, that the author had spent a considerable portion of his short life in camps, and had died in the bed of military honour, the victim of his courage; for he approaches even more closely than Boscan to the tenderness of Petrarch. The general tone of his poetry is so soft and melancholy, that it is only by occasional characteristic traits, that the Spaniard is recognized; but it must be confessed that when such passages do occur, the exaggeration is striking enough.[161] In his sonnets, which are not numerous, the imitation of Petrarch is obvious; but he sometimes betrays that affectation of wit, which was still in Spain regarded as an ingenious manner of expressing vehement and profound passion.[162] One however exhibits throughout a delicacy of style and sweetness of manner, equalled by few pieces of the same kind, in the Spanish language.[163] He was not equally successful in seizing the character of the Italian canzone, of which he, as well as Boscan, was an imitator; and his reputation rests chiefly on his pastoral poems, which therefore deserve to be more particularly noticed.

Since the rude dramatic eclogues of Juan de la Enzina pastoral poetry had made no progress in Spain. But Garcilaso de la Vega imitated Virgil and Sanazzar, and so happily united the romantic character with the correctness of the ancients, that his eclogues, though only one of them can be regarded as a masterpiece, surpass all Italian poems of the kind, those in the Arcadia of Sanazzar alone excepted. The fine Neapolitan sky appears to have had the same influence on Garcilaso as on Virgil and Sanazzar; and he seems to have regarded Naples as his poetical country. The first of his eclogues is by far the most beautiful, and marks an epoch in Spanish pastoral poetry. The whole composition has the metrical form of an Italian canzone. The invention is very simple. In the four introductory strophes, in which is interwoven a dedication to the Viceroy of Naples, Don Pedro de Toledo, Marquis of Villafranca, the author describes, with all the simplicity which belongs to true pastoral poetry, the meeting of two shepherds, Salicio and Nemoroso, who alternately give vent to their feelings in melancholy strains. These elegiac songs reply to each other without interruption, and the relation subsisting between them gives to the whole lyric composition a proper consistence and unity. This is all the plan of the eclogue. But the glow of enthusiastic feeling, the happy choice of expression, and the harmony of versification so completely satisfactory to the ear, to be found in almost every line of these songs of sorrow, cannot fail to give delight to every mind susceptible of elegiac and beauty. Accordingly the Spanish critics are nearly unanimous in pronouncing this eclogue one of the finest works in their language. The subject of the first song is the infidelity—of the second, the death of a mistress; and the latter complaint appears to be founded in fact. But Garcilaso would have better secured the sympathy of the more scrupulous Spanish reader, had he entirely passed over the cause of the lamented fair one’s decease. The lady whom he describes as a pastoral nymph, lost her life it seems in childbed; for an apostrophe of the complaining shepherd to Lucina, indicates plainly enough the nature of her death. But is the affected delicacy which takes offence at a trait so truly natural and pathetic, worthy of the attention of an author? In the first strain in which the shepherd Salicio deplores the infidelity of his mistress, the interest appears to be raised as far as it is possible to carry it.[164] Passion is here elevated to the highest pitch, and then lost in a most affecting self sacrifice.[165] But the song in which Nemoroso laments the death of his mistress, even surpasses the former in elegiac force, perhaps because it possesses greater softness. In retracing his recollections the mourner draws a series of melancholy pictures which have an indescribable charm. The beauty of the poem rises with the description of the beauty of the departed shepherdess.[166] The passage in which Nemoroso relates how he carries in his bosom a lock of his Eliza’s hair, from which he is never separated—how when alone he spreads it out, weeps over it, dries it with his sighs, and then examines and counts every single hair—is unexampled either in ancient or modern literature.[167] Occasional imitations of Virgil have been pointed out, but they harmonize so completely with the romantic spirit of the poem, that were it not for the particular references which critics have made, they would in general escape the notice of even the most erudite. The poem, as a whole, is evidently the genuine offspring of the author’s soul. Materials of an affecting but prosaic nature are, by his art, converted into the most graceful and impressive poetry.

As Garcilaso only imitated the ancients by the introduction of certain ideas and images, and not in the structure of his eclogues, he considered himself at liberty to vary their form at pleasure. But here his good taste abandoned him. The second and longest of his eclogues is an unnatural mixture of heterogeneous styles. An unfortunate shepherd deplores his unsuccessful love. Another shepherd joins him, and their conversation proceeds unconstrained in a romantic pastoral tone; but it is impossible to discover any reason for the changes which take place in the verse. Tercets are succeeded by rhymeless iambics, after which the tercets re-appear and are followed by the syllabic measure of a canzone. The simple dialogue suddenly becomes dramatic. The fair huntress, whose indifference is the subject of the first shepherd’s lament, appears upon the scene. The lover seizes and refuses to let her go, until she swears to listen to his addresses. She makes the required vow, and when at liberty flies. The despair of the shepherd then becomes frenzy; and a third shepherd, who has in the mean time arrived, enters into conversation with the one who first joined the unhappy lover, on the means of restoring him to reason. The author seizes this opportunity to convert his eclogue into a most unseasonable eulogium on the house of Alba. One of the shepherds proposes that medical assistance should be obtained, and mentions a physician named Severo; but this name is assigned to a learned friend of Garcilaso and the Alba family. Nothing more is necessary, according to the critical conception of the author, to warrant the making a poetical digression from his account of the merits of the physician, whose miraculous skill is to recover the frantic shepherd, to the history of the house of Alba, which he details in iambic blank verse.

In the third and last of Garcilaso’s eclogues, the genuine pastoral character is resumed. The lyric dialogue in octaves, or Italian stanzas, pleasingly harmonizes with the soft description of amatory sorrows given in this poem.

Garcilaso made essays in other kinds of poetry, but with less success. An elegy written to console the Duke of Alba for the death of his brother, is an imitation, or rather a translation of an Italian poem by Frascatoro, and is at once cold and verbose. More of interest belongs to another elegy which is addressed to Boscan, and which the author wrote at the foot of Mount Etna. Mythological recollections excited by that classic ground, melancholy complaints of the miseries of war, and tender anxieties for a loved object in the poet’s native land, diffuse a charm over the whole of this elegant poem, which is besides remarkable for comparisons and images full of novelty and truth.[168]

Garcilaso is also the author of a small epistle in which he has endeavoured to seize the true horatian tone. It is not sufficiently important to deserve particular notice, but it is easy to recognize in it the fine tact of this author, to whom the critic, however severely he may judge his faults, cannot deny the title of the second classic poet of Spain.

DIEGO DE MENDOZA.

The third classic poet, and at the same time the first classic prose writer of Spain, is Don Diego Hurtado de Mendoza,[169] a native of Granada, where he was born in the beginning of the sixteenth century, but in what year is not known. Descended from one of the first familes of the country, he had before him the prospect of high honours, which, as he was one of five children, his parents destined him to reach through the church. Being educated for the clerical profession, he received what was then considered a learned education. Besides the classical languages of antiquity, he acquired the Hebrew and Arabic. At the university of Salamanca, he studied scholastic philosophy, theology, and ecclesiastical law. While yet a student he was the inventor of the comic romance or novel, for it was at Salamanca that he wrote his celebrated work, the Life of Lazarillo de Tormes. Having become as conspicuous for a vigorous and sound understanding as for his wit and learning, the Emperor Charles V. who perceived that his talents might be employed with advantage in public business, drew him from his studies. He had not long left the university when he was appointed imperial envoy to Venice. He availed himself of the opportunities which this situation afforded to cultivate an intercourse with learned Italians, and to obtain an intimate knowledge of the spirit of Italian literature. Before his departure for Italy, he appears to have formed an acquaintance with Boscan; but he was patriot enough not to despise the old Spanish poetry. Though he loved the Italian poets, he preferred the ancients, and in particular Horace, who, like himself a man of the world, might occasionally assist him in his journey through the slippery path of political life; and certainly few poets could have divided themselves between literature and politics with as much dexterity as Mendoza. He was, however, far from being a cringing courtier. His low opinion of diplomatic dignity is stated frankly, and even somewhat coarsely, in one of his epistles, in which he exclaims:—“O these ambassadors, the perfect ninnies! when kings wish to cheat they begin with us. Our best business is to take care that we do no harm, and indeed never to do or say any thing that we may not run the risk of making ourselves understood.”[170] The ambassador of a prince of such deep dissimulation as Charles V. might naturally enough form an unfavourable opinion of his office; but he who could speak his mind in this manner, even when at his post, must have retained some of the spirit of old Spanish freedom.

The emperor made no mistake in the choice of his ambassador, of whose turn of thinking he doubtless was not ignorant, but on the exercise of whose talents he knew he could rely. He considered him the fittest person that could be selected to go to the council of Trent, and recommend, by an elegant manner, the truths he wished to be told to the assembled fathers in the name of the Spanish nation. This commission Mendoza executed to the satisfaction of the emperor. The speech which he delivered before the council in 1545 was highly admired, and Charles was convinced that it was impossible to confide the affairs of Italy to better hands. In the year 1547, Mendoza appeared at the papal court, then the centre of all political intrigues, as imperial ambassador, and invested with powers which rendered him the terror of the French party in Italy. The emperor at the same time appointed him captain-general and governor of Sienna, and other strong places in Tuscany. He was ordered to humble the pope, Paul III. even in his own court; and to repress, by force, the movements of the restless Florentines, who still hoped, under the protection of France, to shake off the yoke of the Medicis. A man of less firmness of character would have been totally unfit for such a task; but the terrible energy with which Mendoza performed it, exasperated in the highest degree the opposite party, and more particularly the Florentines. The repeated insurrections in Tuscany could not be suppressed without measures of great severity, and Mendoza was consequently detested as a tyrant by all Italians who were not reconciled to the introduction of Spanish garrisons. In Sienna he was constantly exposed to assassination; and on one occasion, a musket ball directed against him killed the horse on which he rode. His intrepidity, however, was not to be shaken, and he continued to administer his difficult government until Paul III. died, and was succeeded by Julius III. a pope inclined to the Spanish party. The new pope wishing to bestow on Mendoza a particular mark of respect, appointed him Gonfalonier, or Standard-bearer to the church. In this character, Mendoza marched against the rebels in the ecclesiastical territories, and made them submit to the pope.

Thus did a Spanish poet, alike feared and admired, govern Italy for the space of six years. During this stormy period of his life, Mendoza composed verses, visited the Italian universities, purchased Greek manuscripts, and collected a large library. Since the days of Petrarch no friend of literature had shewn so much zeal for the acquisition of Greek manuscripts. He spared no pains nor expense to procure them even from Greece, and sent special messengers for that purpose to the convent of Mount Athos. He availed himself of a service he had rendered to the Ottoman sultan, to obtain supplies of corn for the empty granaries of Venice, and of manuscripts for his own library. Many a Greek work came first to the press from his valuable collection. Whoever wished to promote the study of ancient literature, found in him a friend and protector; and to him the learned bookseller, Paulus Manutius, dedicated his edition of the philosophic writings of Cicero, to the study of which Mendoza was particularly attached, and for the correct publication of which he even made critical observations on the manuscripts.

Literature and politics, it appears, did not afford sufficient occupation for this extraordinary man. He chose also to engage in affairs of gallantry; and, according to the manners of the age, gave to such pursuits, at least in verse, the character of romantic passion. His looks, however, were not calculated to recommend him to the fair sex; for his biographers state that he was far from handsome, and that the glance of his fiery eye was more repulsive than inviting. But Mendoza was active, accomplished, and in the possession of power; and the favour which these advantages obtained for him with some Roman ladies, was numbered among the offences with which his enemies loudly reproached him. The repeated charges brought against him made at last an impression on the emperor; and that monarch, who had begun to contemplate the resignation of his crown, and who was now desirous of establishing tranquillity in his states, thought fit, in the year 1554, to recall this too rigid governor to Spain.

The latter part of the history of Mendoza’s life is not uniformly related by his biographers. According to some he retired to the country, devoted himself to poetry and philosophy, and appeared very seldom at the court of Philip II. Others assert that, though he no longer retained his former influence, he continued a member of the council of state under Philip II. and was present with that monarch at the great battle of St. Quintin, fought in the year 1557. This much is certain, that he was soon after engaged in an adventure at the court, which, for a man of his age and knowledge of the world, was of a very singular nature. An altercation arose in the palace between him and a courtier, who, according to Mendoza’s own declaration, was his rival in the affections of a lady. This man, whose name is not mentioned, in a fit of violent exasperation, drew a dagger; upon which Mendoza seized him, and threw him from a balcony into the street. What afterwards became of his antagonist is not recorded; but the transaction was the subject of serious observation, and the grave Philip regarded it as a high offence against the dignity of his person and his court. He was, however, content to inflict a moderate punishment, and merely condemned Mendoza to a short imprisonment. The old statesman occupied the period of his imprisonment in the ancient Spanish style, namely, in composing lamentations on the unkindness of his mistress:[171] and these romantic effusions do not appear to have been considered by his contemporaries as absurd and ridiculous at his time of life. But the sorrows expressed in his amatory ditties did not drive the venerable lover to despair; for when he was soon after set at liberty, though still exiled from court, he observed with the eye of a politician the insurrection of the Moriscoes, or converted Arabs of Granada; and when the insurrection broke out into a formal war, he noted down all the remarkable events, and afterwards detailed them in an historical work, which has obtained for him the name of the Spanish Sallust. He profited of this opportunity to collect a great number of Arabic manuscripts. Observations on the works of Aristotle, a translation of the Mechanics of that philosopher, and some political treatises, were, it appears, the last of his literary labours. He was thus actively and usefully employed until his death, which happened when he was upwards of seventy, at Valladolid, in the year 1575. He bequeathed his collection of books and manuscripts to the king, and it still forms one of the most valuable portions of the library of the Escurial.[172]

A detailed account of the life of this distinguished man, cannot be regarded as a biographical excrescence in a history of Spanish Literature; for in no other poet’s life and works is the real Castilian spirit of the age of Charles V. so clearly displayed as in those of Diego de Mendoza. The universality of his literary talent will be best understood, when it is known with what energy, precision, and facility he accommodated himself to, and controuled the circumstances in which he happened to be placed in all the practical relations of life. That trait too in the portrait of his mind, which is most worthy of observation, namely, the constancy with which, instead of abandoning one species of mental activity for another, he continued throughout the different periods of his life, from youth to extreme old age, always to unite in his person the poet, the man of letters, and the statesman, gives reason to expect that his works, however differing in kind, will be found to possess a certain common character.

Diego de Mendoza did more for the poetic literature of his country than his countrymen seem to have acknowledged. Spanish writers, it is true, place him next in rank to Boscan and Garcilaso de la Vega, among the poets who introduced the Italian style into Castilian poetry. But they cannot pardon the harshness of his versification in those poems in which he adopted the metrical forms of Italy. Rendered fastidious by the rhythmical harmony which a Castilian ear can never dispense with, the Spaniards have held in very trifling estimation the epistles of Mendoza; though those compositions, in a striking manner, extended the boundaries of Castilian poetry. As an epistolary poet, he might justly be styled the Spanish Horace, if his tercets flowed as smoothly as the hexameters of the latin poet. Making allowance, however, for the want of that pure harmony and that didactic delicacy in which Horace is inimitable, Mendoza’s epistles may rank among the best productions of the kind in modern literature. With the exception of Boscan and Garcilaso de la Vega, no Spanish poet had evinced any traces of that horatian spirit with which this author was endowed. In the collection of Mendoza’s poems, these epistles are merely called cartas (letters.) Some of them are of a romantic cast, and overloaded with tedious love complaints. But the rest, like Horace’s epistles, are didactic, full of agreeable but sound philosophy, precise and yet unconstrained in expression, and rescued from the monotonous effect of moral instruction, by a happy interchange of precepts, images, and characters. A masculine understanding, which clearly penetrates all social relations, and a noble spirit, which estimates the blessings of life according to their real value, diffuse over these epistles a charm at once serene and attractive. Some of the most beautiful, for example, that addressed to Boscan, which is best known, and which on account of the answer is printed among Boscan’s poems, were composed in Italy during the more early part of the author’s life. But in estimating the poetical works of Mendoza, chronological arrangement is of little importance, for as a poet he preserved equality from the commencement to the close of his career. His epistle to Boscan is in part an imitation of that of Horace to Numicius.[173] The latter half, however, belongs exclusively to Mendoza. In this portion of the epistle he presents to his friend the outline of the charming picture of domestic happiness, to which Boscan himself, in the answer already mentioned, has given a higher finish; and the taste which can overlook the beauty of this picture on account of want of smoothness in the versification, must be depraved by the affectation of refinement.[174] Another epistle, addressed to Don Luis de Zuñiga, contains an ingenious and striking comparison of the character of two heterogeneous and equally foolish classes of men. The one wholly attached to the vulgar pleasures of the moment, and stupidly indifferent to the affairs of the world;[175] while the other, on the contrary, is cheated by restless cares and anxieties out of the enjoyment of the present.[176] In these epistles, Mendoza unfolded the result of his experience, as the Infante Juan Manuel did a century and a half earlier, in his Count Lucanor, though in a totally different manner. Mendoza’s style is that of an accomplished man of the world, formed in the school of the latin poets.

Mendoza’s sonnets possess neither the grace nor the harmony essential to that species of composition. They owe their existence to the amatory spirit of the age rather than to the poetic inspiration of the author. Though he composed in the Italian manner with less facility than Boscan and Garcilaso, he felt more correctly than they or any other of his countrymen, the difference between the Spanish and Italian languages, with respect to their capabilities for versification. The Spanish admits of none of those pleasing elisions, which, particularly when terminating vowels are omitted, render the mechanism of Italian versification so easy, and enable the poet to augment or diminish the number of syllables according to his pleasure; and this difference in the two languages renders the composition of a Spanish sonnet a difficult task. Still more does the Spanish language seem hostile to the soft termination of a succession of feminine rhymes, for the Spanish poet, who adopts this rule of the Italian sonnet, is compelled to banish from his rhymes, all infinitives of verbs, together with a whole host of sonorous substantives and adjectives.[177] Mendoza, therefore, availed himself of the use of masculine rhymes in his sonnets; but this metrical license was strongly censured by all partizans of the Italian style. Nevertheless had he given to his sonnets more of the tenderness of Petrarch, it is probable that they would have found imitators. Some of them, indeed, may be considered as successful productions, and throughout all the language is correct and noble.[178]

Mendoza’s canciones have nearly the same character as his sonnets, except that they more obviously mark the influence of the horatian ode on the lyric fancy of the author. The versification, which is sonorous, though deficient in harmony, is occasionally united with a degree of obscurity from which the other productions of Mendoza are totally exempt.[179] The least successful of his poems in the Italian style is a mythological tale in octave verse, founded on the history of Adonis, but along with which the author has interwoven the history of Atalanta. The story is, however, related in a very pleasing manner.

The Spaniards give the preference, not to this first class of the poetic works of Mendoza, but to the second, which consists of lyric poems in the old national style, the origin of which it is, however, easy to perceive must be referred to a more highly cultivated age. The similarity between these poems and others of the same sort in the Romancero general, clearly proves that many of the poets of the age of Charles V. had tacitly agreed to improve the old national poetry, without, like the impetuous Castillejo, (of whom further mention will soon be made) waging open war against the reformers of the school of Boscan. Many of Mendoza’s lyric pieces are inserted in the Romancero general without the author’s name. In these compositions the syllabic measure seems to have been the chief object of improvement. But this improvement, however successful, was at the same time necessarily limited; and the beautiful forms of the Italian canzone possessed too striking a superiority over the most cultivated forms of rhyme in the old redondillas, to yield to the latter in any collision. All Mendoza’s lyric compositions are in stanzas of four lines; and the pieces of this description now obtained, by way of distinction, the name of redondillas, which seems originally to have been applied to all trochaic verses in lines of four feet.[180] But songs in stanzas of five lines, though in other respects similar to those just mentioned, are called in Mendoza’s collection quintas or quintillas. The trochaic stanza in four lines of three feet,[181] of which the Romancero general also contains several specimens, was found to be most suitable to endechas, or funeral songs, in the old national style, and to compositions of that class Mendoza applied it. He wrote many romantic epistles in the redondilla stanza of four lines; and did not neglect the other old lyric forms, such as the Villancicos, &c. The improvement of style, which is an essential feature of all these poems, was limited by Mendoza to accuracy of expression, and to softening the quaintness of the old subtilties: to these, however, he himself sometimes resorted; and he seems to have been of opinion, that the character of this kind of poetry rendered their occasional introduction indispensable. In compositions of a tender and melancholy character,[182] he is less successful than in those of a comic cast.[183]

Considering Mendoza’s wit and knowledge of mankind, it may naturally be presumed that his satyrical poems, which however exist only in manuscript, mark a great advancement in this species of poetry in Spain. These poems are mentioned by all Mendoza’s biographers; one is called La Pulga (the Flea,) another La Caña (the Reed), and a third bears the comical title of Elogio de la Zanahoria (Eulogy on the Parsnip.) None, however, have yet passed the ordeal of the inquisition. Their titles seem to indicate a kind of coarse humour in the style of the burlesque satyres of the Italians.

Some of Mendoza’s prose compositions have, however, obtained greater celebrity than his poems; and they unquestionably form an epoch in the history of Spanish prose. The comic romance of Lazarillo de Tormes, which Mendoza wrote while he was a student at Salamanca, is either the very first production of its kind, or at least the first that obtained any thing like literary consideration. Soon after its publication it was translated into Italian, and subsequently into French, and by the means of this French translation it has been read throughout all Europe. Relations of interesting tricks of roguery, probably formed at a more early period a favourite amusement with the Spaniards; for that adroit feats of cunning and deception have had for them a charm of a peculiar kind, the whole history of their comic literature sufficiently proves. Mendoza, therefore, gave to his humorous fancy a direction conformable to the spirit of his country, when he chose, as the subject of his work, the Adventures of a Beggar Lad, who makes a kind of fortune by dint of cheating and roguery; and the comic interest of the production was enhanced by its contrast with the pompous romances of chivalry. In the perusal of such a tale, the Spanish reader willingly descended from the romantic ideal world to the sphere of common life. The skill with which Mendoza has sketched the vices of avarice and selfishness in the persons into whose service Lazarillo enters, is no less remarkable than the bold regard for truth which led him to include priests in the number of his odious characters. The inquisition of course could not expect that the Spaniards should regard the ecclesiastic profession as a security against every vice; and Lazarillo de Tormes sufficiently proves that in Mendoza’s time the priesthood was not guaranteed against public satire in Spain. Under the reign of Philip II. however, satires of this kind became subject to a certain degree of restraint; and since that period Mendoza’s romance has only been suffered to escape because its free circulation was once permitted by the inquisition. No critic has hitherto called in question the truth and accuracy of the pictures of vulgar life in Lazarillo de Tormes; but an author named de Luna, who styles himself an interpreter of the Castilian language, published a new edition of the romance with the view of correcting the diction. De Luna likewise added a second part to the story, for Mendoza in his maturer years never felt inclined to finish the comic work which he had commenced in his youth.[184]

A very different spirit animates the historical work in which Mendoza traces the history of the rebellion of Granada.[185] Mendoza formed his style, as a historian, principally on that of Sallust, and only occasionally imitated Tacitus for the sake of variety. Were it not that he sometimes oversteps the bounds of true elegance and falls into an overstudied and artificial manner, this work might be ranked, without reserve, among the best historical models; and notwithstanding the affectation with which it is here and there disfigured,[186] it is, unquestionably, after the works of Machiavell and Guicciardini, the first production of modern literature that deserves to be compared with the classic histories of antiquity.

However carefully Mendoza polished the rhetorical form of his history, still the importance of the materials and a true philosophic spirit are every where prominent throughout his representation of facts. Being himself a native of Granada, his power of rightly viewing the events, and the impression he received from them, must have been much the same as if he had been an eye witness of all that passed. Besides, he derived his information from the most authentic sources; for at the period in question he was residing on his estate in the vicinity of the theatre of the war. His nephew, the Marquis de Mondejar, was for some time commander in chief of the army against the rebels; and Mendoza himself had long been so intimately connected with the government at Madrid, that no individual in Spain had better opportunities of obtaining that knowledge of the secret as well as of the ostensible springs of transactions which is necessary for a just historical representation of events. The atrocious measures adopted by Phillip II. to suppress the insurrection in Granada, were, however, no less opposed to the sound political views of Mendoza, than the fanatic cruelty and glaring injustice by which the unhappy Moriscos had been driven into rebellion appear, however good a catholic he may have been, to have revolted his feelings. But neither his opinion nor his compassion could be openly avowed. He therefore availed himself of all the subtle windings of the historical art, to render his representation of events easily intelligible to those who thought as he did, and at the same time to secure himself against any literal interpretation which spiritual or temporal despotism might have employed to his disadvantage. Wherever undeniable facts, which the government according to its own maxims could not venture to conceal, clearly expose the folly and inhumanity by which the Moors were reduced to despair, Mendoza apparently refrains from pronouncing any judgment, while the poignant manner in which he relates the facts, is in itself a sufficient condemnation.[187]

When the fault rests rather with the agents of the government than with the government itself, he seems to attack only the former. In order that the just cause of the Moriscos might be, for once, powerfully vindicated, he puts, after the manner of the ancients, a speech into the mouth of one of the chiefs of the conspirators.[188] This is the only speech in the work which seems sufficient to shew that at least it was not inserted from a spirit of servile imitation; but he occasionally ventures, contrary to the practice of modern languages, to approximate his narrative style to that of the writers of antiquity; as for example, where he employs a succession of verbs in the infinitive mood.[189] The Spaniards, however, seem to have regarded the grammatical freedom used by Mendoza as perfectly conformable to the genius of their language. During the gloomy and suspicious government of Philip II. this excellent work was only to be read in manuscript. It was first published at Madrid, in the year 1610, five-and-thirty years after the death of the author, and was reprinted at Lisbon in 1617; but both editions were purposely mutilated.[190] The text was at last given complete in the edition of the work, which appeared in 1776.

SAA DE MIRANDA.

The fame of the great reform of the Castilian poetry having penetrated into Portugal, a similar reform took place in the poetry of that nation. At this time the Castilian language was held in such high consideration in Portugal, that even Portuguese poets, without undervaluing their national tongue, thought themselves bound occasionally to write verses in Castilian, to entitle them to be regarded as perfect masters of the poetic art. In the first half of the sixteenth century, two of the most celebrated of these Portuguese poets laboured with such success to extend the dominion of Castilian pastoral poetry, that the thread of the history of Spanish literature would be broken, were a notice of the poetic merits of these two celebrated men confined solely to the history of the literature of Portugal. One of them, Francisco de Saa de Miranda, who was born in 1494, and died in 1558, belongs, however, in so eminent a degree, to his own nation, and the circumstances of his life are so closely connected with the history of Portuguese poetry, that it would be an injustice to Portuguese literature to rank him exclusively among the poets of Spain. Besides, most of his poetic works, with the exception of his pastoral poems, are written in the Portuguese language.[191] The other Portuguese poet, who claims attention in the history of Spanish poetry, is Jorge de Montemayor. He, through his residence in Spain, became wholly a Spaniard:—the work to which he chiefly owes his celebrity is written in Spanish; and he had so decided an influence on Spanish literature, that this would be the proper place for introducing an account of his short life and of his poetry, did not Saa de Miranda’s Castilian pastorals, which are of older date, demand a previous notice.[192]

The bucolic effusions of Saa de Miranda exhibit in their general tone more traits of resemblance to Theocritus, than are to be found in the writings of Garcilaso de la Vega. Garcilaso’s pastoral style, with all its simplicity, was not sufficiently rural for Saa de Miranda. Like Theocritus his feelings seem to have dictated to him pure rural ideas; and he transferred this characteristic of his Portuguese eclogues to those which he wrote in Spanish, which are the most numerous. Nevertheless, even in his rural poems he did not wish to renounce the attributes of the loftier style of poetry. He was, however, heedless of all critical distinction of the different kinds of poetry, and would, without scruple, commence a poem, in the metre of an Italian canzone, as an ode, proceed with it in epic metaphors,[193] and conclude it in the simplest idyllic style. With equal indifference he chose sometimes octave verse, sometimes tercets for his pastoral poems, which thus alternately assume a lyric and a dramatic tone. This capricious mixture of poetic genera and styles deteriorates in no slight degree the quality of Saa de Miranda’s poetry. The elevated tone of the ode forms a singular contrast when introduced in the same composition along with the easy familiar style, which, in the opinion of Saa de Miranda, the pure pastoral character of his poetry required. But no modern poet has succeeded so well in the union of simplicity and grace; and in this respect the eclogues of Saa de Miranda are unequalled. When he describes the gambols of the nymphs, with whom his fancy animates his native woodland scenes;[194]—when he sketches impetuous storms of passion, softened by the charm of his colouring, yet kept true to nature;[195]—when he introduces nymphs discoursing;[196]—or, when he abandons himself to a tone of elegiac melancholy;[197]—one knows not whether most to admire, the delicate truth and penetrating depth of his ideas, or the artless precision and facility of his expression. In such cases he often abandons the natural style of Theocritus for a more lofty or ideal manner. When, in some of his other eclogues, his shepherds converse on their occupations or superstitions,[198] he likewise departs from the prosaic nature of real pastoral life, such as he had the opportunity of observing in his native country, and gradually elevates it to romantic ideality. It happened, however, that he occasionally found the prosaic truth of his pictures sufficiently interesting, and then to be truly natural he avoided all embellishment.[199]

Some of Saa de Miranda’s popular songs, called Cantigas, a term which in Portuguese corresponds with Villancicos in Spanish, are inimitable for grace and simplicity.[200]

MONTEMAYOR.

The poet who is celebrated in Spanish literature by the name of Jorge de Montemayor, was born in the year 1520, at Montemor, a little town of Portugal, not far from Coimbra. He took for his name that of his native city, spelt and pronounced in the Spanish way, probably because his own family name was not deemed sufficiently sonorous; and thus the latter has been entirely lost. The talent of this young Portuguese developed itself without the aid of a previous literary cultivation. At an early period of life he served in the Portuguese army, and, as there is reason to believe, in the rank of a common soldier. His taste for music, and the reputation he had acquired as a singer, induced him to visit Spain, where the Infant Don Philip, afterwards Philip II. had formed a company of court musicians, who were to accompany him on his travels through Italy, Germany, and the Netherlands. Jorge de Montemayor, being admitted as a vocal member of this travelling musical company, gained an opportunity of seeing the world, and at the same time making himself master of the Castilian language, which became to him a second mother tongue. He was, however, attached to Spain by a still closer link, namely, his love for a beautiful Castilian lady, whom he occasionally introduces in his poems under the name of Marfida. This Marfida became the deity of his poetry; and when, on his return to Spain, he found her wedded to another, he endeavoured to divert his sorrow by poetic effusions, in which he represented the faithless beauty as a romantic shepherdess; and, uniting these with several of his other compositions, he formed the whole into a romance. This romance, which he entitled Diana, was received by the Spanish public with a degree of favour never before extended to any Spanish book, Amadis de Gaul excepted; and it speedily found no fewer imitators than Amadis itself. The Queen of Portugal was desirous that the celebrated author of Diana should return to his native country. She recalled him, and he obeyed the honourable mandate. No further particulars of his history are known. He died by some violent means, either in 1561 or 1562. He was upwards of forty at the period of his death, which, according to some accounts, took place in Portugal, and according to others in Italy.[201]

The Diana of Montemayor is one of the few romantic works which belong entirely to the soul of the inventor, which are embued throughout with individual interest, and which on that very account exercise the more influence over unsophisticated minds, because the author possessed sufficient poetic genius successfully to convey the joys and sorrows of his own heart under the forms of a general interest. But this romance can never be to any other cultivated people what it was to the Spaniards of the sixteenth century. Still less can it be regarded as a classical fragment, even though judged according to the lenient rules by which every fragment is estimated; unless, indeed, after the manner of some modern critics, new rules of art be deduced from defective examples, for the sake of admiring as incomparable the grossest absurdities, under the title of romantic complexity. But with all its faults, this unfinished pastoral romance (for it was not brought to a conclusion by Montemayor) possesses a poetic merit, which entitles it to the esteem of all ages.

The design of the work, so far as Montemayor’s ideas render his intention obvious, sometimes charms by its graceful simplicity, and at others becomes grotesque, through an illegitimate romantic combination of heterogeneous species of composition. The shepherd Sireno, who represents the poet himself, on his return to his native country, visits the scene of the innocent joys which the inconstant shepherdess Diana once shared along with him. Overwhelmed with grief, he draws out first a lock of hair belonging to his mistress; and then one of her letters, which he reads. While he is thus communing with himself, he is joined by another romantic adorer of the beautiful Diana. This shepherd, whose love had always been unrequited, now joins his lamentations to those of the once happy Sireno, and each vies with the other in claiming to himself the heaviest load of misery. They are joined by a shepherdess, named Selvagia, who has been no less unfortunate in love than themselves. She relates her history very circumstantially, and thus terminates the first book. In the second, the conversation of these lovers is continued, until three nymphs appear, one of whom relates Sireno’s history in a song of some length. Up to the conclusion of this song, the pastoral simplicity of the story is preserved uninterrupted by any incident approximating to the terrible; but suddenly a party of savage robbers completely armed appears. The nymphs are about to fly, but are detained by the robbers. A battle then ensues between the robbers and the shepherds, the latter attacking the former with stones. The robbers are on the point of overcoming their rustic antagonists, when a heroine, habited as a huntress, rushes from a wood, and bending her bow, pierces the robbers with her arrows, and liberates the nymphs. The fair huntress then joins the party of nymphs and shepherds, and in her turn also relates her history. This narrative, together with the conversations and songs to which it gives rise, concludes the second book. In the third book the story assumes the character of a fairy tale. The nymphs lead their protectress, together with the rest of the party, through a thick forest to the castle of the wise Felicia, who is represented as a kind of priestess to the goddess Diana. The description of the wonders and magnificence of the castle occupies a great portion of the third book. The wise Felicia conducts the party to a superb hall of state, where they behold a numerous collection of majestic statues, representing Roman emperors, Castilian knights, and Castilian ladies. Even a place is found for the statue of a Moorish knight, of whose conflicts with the Christians a long history is related in this sanctuary of the goddess Diana. By means of enchantment Felicia cures Sireno of the torments of love. At length, in the sixth book, the poet releases his shepherds and shepherdesses from Felicia’s palace, and the reader for the first time becomes acquainted with the shepherdess Diana. She attaches the blame of her infidelity to her parents, by whom, during the absence of Sireno, she was forced to give her hand to another. In the following scenes, to the conclusion of the seventh book, where Montemayor’s labour terminates, the history of the principal characters makes no further progress. Some of the other lovers in the romance are, however, united according to their wishes.

This composition, in which it is easy to recognize the uncultivated genius of a poet, who, to give vent to the emotions of his soul, deemed it necessary to wander through the whole region of romance, can only be regarded by the unprejudiced critic as a fantastical frame-work, serving to display pictures of the feelings and a philosophy of the heart, which constitute the prominent features of the whole poem. To paint romantic fidelity under the most fascinating and various forms, and at the same time to exhibit in a poetic point of view the theory of that fidelity, which even in a poem could only be verified by facts, was the idea which guided Montemayor’s inventive fancy, and the execution of which bears the full impression of his genius. The versified portion of the romance is the soul of the whole composition. A series of lyric poems, partly in the Italian and partly in the old Castilian style, are introduced; but these compositions are strikingly distinguished from the eclogues of Saa de Miranda by an epigrammatic poignancy, which frequently degenerates into antiquated subtlety.[202] But this epigrammatic turn usually imparts a more pointed precision to the lyrical expression, and a degree of consistency to the whole composition, which in no way injures its pastoral simplicity;[203] and when judged according to the characteristic form of the popular songs, called Villancicos, it by no means presents, to Spaniards in particular, the idea of too much refinement or incongruity with rustic nature.[204] In order to judge candidly of the pastoral truth of these compositions, it is necessary to have the Spanish romantic ideas of nature present to the mind. Montemayor is inexhaustible in new turns and images for the expression of tenderness. In depth of feeling he vies with Saa de Miranda; and, though his poetry is occasionally deficient in rhythmical polish, it in general presents so exquisite a union of the grace of language, with a happy concordance of ideas, that the reader must soon become warmed by the spirit of the poet, even though he should begin to peruse the work with indifference.[205]

Montemayor’s style of romantic prose has been a model for all writers of pastoral romances in the Spanish language. How far he himself imitated the prose of Sanazzar, cannot easily be ascertained, as it is not known whether or not Sanazzar’s Arcadia[206] was the prototype of his Diana. Though it is certain that Montemayor carefully endeavoured to give precision and dignity of expression, and to impart harmony to every line of his composition, his language nevertheless appears neither laboured nor affected. His taste seems to have been in only a few instances seduced by the influence of that ostentatious solemnity, which distinguished the common chivalrous romances, written in imitation of Amadis de Gaul. In general he remained faithful to the dignified simplicity, which the author of the Amadis appears to have regarded as the genuine characteristic of the lofty style of romantic prose. To this style his protracted but rhythmically pleasing sentences may justly be said to belong.[207] It is but seldom that a low expression escapes him.[208] His descriptions are never deficient in vividness and force.[209] It is only in the didactic passages in which he propounds his philosophy of love, that his language becomes tinged with the scholastic formality, which at the period in which he wrote, was considered indispensable when any scholastic ideas were to be expressed; for though Montemayor had not received that kind of education, which in his age was considered learned, he had picked up some notions of the scholastic philosophy, which, when they interested him, he was fond of introducing into the romance of his heart.[210]

The other works of Montemayor, which are not so celebrated as his Diana, are to be found in a collection of his poems, which, according to the old custom, is entitled a Cancionero.[211]

HERRERA.

Fernando de Herrera, a poet very different in character from Montemayor, must next be included among the authors who chiefly contributed to reform Castilian poetry, during the first half of the sixteenth century. Of the history of his life but little is known. He was a native of Seville, and was born, according to the conjectures of his Spanish biographers, about the commencement of the sixteenth century. Thus he flourished at the same time as Diego de Mendoza, and afforded another instance of the light of poetical improvement being directed from the south of Spain. It appears that he did not enter into the ecclesiastical state, to which he finally devoted himself, until he attained a mature age; but he must have received a literary education, as he possessed no ordinary knowledge of the ancient and modern languages, geography, mathematics, and scholastic philosophy. According to a portrait which has been preserved of him, he appears to have been a handsome man; and some of the editors of his works alledge that the lady whom he has celebrated in his verses under various names, was not merely an ideal object of the poet’s tenderness. The admirers of his poetry have applied to him, after the Italian manner, the surname of the divine; and this epithet, rendered so equivocal by its application to Pietro Aretino, was never bestowed on any other Spanish poet. These few particulars are all that are known relative to the life of Fernando de Herrera. He died at an advanced age, probably soon after the year 1578.[212]

Why Herrera should have obtained the title of divine, in preference to all the other poets of his nation, would appear almost incomprehensible, were it not known that two opposite parties vied with each other in exalting him; and, to avoid the appearance of yielding on either side, considered themselves reciprocally bound to pronounce compositions sublime which neither could regard as natural. Herrera was, notwithstanding, a poet of powerful talent, and one who evinced undaunted resolution in pursuing the new path which he had struck out for himself. The novel style, however, which he wished to introduce into Spanish poetry, was not the result of a spontaneous essay, flowing from immediate inspiration, but was theoretically constructed on artificial principles. Thus, amidst traits of real beauty, his poetry every where presents marks of affectation. The great fault of his language is too much singularity; and his expression, where it ought to be elevated, is merely far-fetched.

Herrera fancied he had discovered that the diction of the Spanish poets, even in their best works, was too common, too nearly allied to the language of prose, and consequently very far removed from the classical dignity which distinguishes the Greek and Roman poetry. This opinion induced him to form for himself a new style. He classed words according to his fancy, into elegant and inelegant, and was careful to employ in his verse only those to which he attributed the former character. He connected words, under significations which they do not bear in common language; and in contradistinction to the spirit of prose, he regarded certain repetitions, for example, the conjunction and as very appropriate to poetry. He also introduced into his verse, a free arrangement of words, after the model of the latin construction. Finally, he thought he could enrich the language of poetry by new words, which he formed by analogy from existing Castilian words, or adopted immediately from the latin.[213] This peculiarity of style was regarded as the perfection of poetry, by the party who idolized Fernando de Herrera.[214]

Those, however, who have no inclination to confound pompous with poetic language, or diction with the essence of poetry, must still allow to Herrera the possession of poetic ideas and precision of manner, as well as a true dignity of expression, and an elegant harmony of versification. His language is not always affected, and his thoughts and descriptions, though frequently overstrained, are never trivial.[215] Notwithstanding all the faults of his style, he must be accounted the first classical ode writer in modern literature, for the attempts of the Italian poet Chiabrera to emulate Pindar, are of more recent date; and here it is worthy of remark, that the Spanish odes of Herrera and the Italian odes of Chiabrera resemble each other in a mixture of the style of the Pindaric ode, with the style of the canzone. Through the medium of that lyric form only, was the spirit of Pindar felt by these imitators; and both were the more easily deceived, as the genius of the Spanish and Italian languages has a relation to the metrical structure of the canzone, somewhat similar to that which the genius of the Greek language bears to Pindaric verse. But the rapid and bold succession of thoughts and images, which animates the odes of Pindar, could not be imitated by poets, who, even in their boldest flights of fancy were bound down by the laws of the Italian canzone, to the luxurious harmony of its protracted verbose periods. Thus Herrera’s odes, like those of Chiabrera, bear only a remote resemblance to their prototypes. Odes, however, they must be termed, though Herrera himself has classed them, under the general title of canciones, along with imitations of the Italian style, purely romantic, but versified according to similar rules. In his celebrated odes on the battle of Lepanto, in which the Spaniards under Don John of Austria, the natural son of Charles V. obtained a brilliant victory over the Turks, the magnificence of the rhythm would be sufficiently attractive, though the ideas conveyed in the torrent of sonorous syllables possessed less poetic beauty than really belong to them.[216] Occasionally, however, Herrera’s ideas degenerate into fantastical hyperboles; for instance, when boasting of his hero, he says, that Don John of Austria, that glorious conqueror of the infidels and the elements, combines within himself “whatever of heavenly power animates terrestrial bodies;” and that therefore “the fixed earth, the extended waters, the circumambent air, and the ever glowing flames depend on him, so that through the secret control which he exercises over earth, water, air, and fire, all these elements are his works.”[217] But passages of real beauty occur in Herrera’s odes, which afford a sufficient compensation for this sort of bombast.[218] Among the odes for which Herrera has chosen a softer theme, the prize of superiority has been justly awarded to the Ode to Sleep. It is one of those compositions which may be said to be single in their kind. The graceful choice of language, the picturesque effect, the delicate keeping in the composition, and the finish given to all the details in strict conformity with the true spirit of the theme, impart to this ode or cancion a lyric beauty which must render it in all ages an object of admiration, not only to the lover, but to the critic of poetry.[219]

The other poems of Herrera, though extremely numerous, require only a slight notice.[220] His best sonnets, which are among the happiest imitations of Petrarch in the Spanish language, are characterized by the recurrence of some of the author’s favourite images, as for example, the comparison of his mistress to light, or the evening star,[221] &c. He is frequently very successful in the management of these similes; but at other times he falls into strange absurdities, such as making the “curling waves of gold of his sweet light float in the wind.”[222] But extravagant tropes of this kind could not be very offensive to Spanish taste, which had been accustomed to indulge the orientalisms of the old national style, and they were indeed not only tolerated but esteemed. It might have been expected that a writer possessing so much critical judgment as Herrera, would, as an imitator of Petrarch, have endeavoured to naturalize in his native tongue, the simplicity of the Italian poet; but he was too much a Spaniard to be pleased with such simplicity. His elegies, and other lyric compositions in the Italian syllabic measure, have all the same character.

Herrera endeavoured, by other means than poetical composition, to give to the national taste of the Spaniards a direction conformable to his own principles. He wrote a “Critical Commentary on the Poems of Garcilaso de la Vega.”[223] This commentary has served as a model for many similar works, which have been the means of circulating various kinds of useful knowledge without having contributed in any remarkable degree to the advancement of taste. Herrera, as a theorist, failed to establish any fixed point or station from which he might have taken a clear and consistent view of the whole region of poetry. His criticism everlastingly turns on detached ideas and words; and whenever opportunities for displaying his learning occur, he digresses into all the regions of philosophy and literature. Of the indistinctness of his notions, relative to the different species of poetry, some idea may be formed from his definition of the elegy. He says—“an elegy should be simple, soft, tender, amiable, terse, clear, and if it may be so called, noble; affecting to the feelings, and moving them in every way; neither very inflated nor very humble, nor obscured by affected phrases or far-fetched fables.”[224]

LUIS DE LEON.

Luis Ponce de Leon, the next lyric poet to be noticed, pursued a course very different from that of Herrera, whose contemporary he was. He is usually called, by abbreviation, merely Luis de Leon, and did not obtain the surname of divine, to which, however, he might have laid claim with infinitely more justice than Herrera, if his pious humility would have permitted him to entertain the idea of maintaining any competition for earthly honours.[225]

This poet, who for classical purity of style and moral dignity of ideas, had never been surpassed in Spanish literature, was, like Herrera and Mendoza, a native of the south of Spain. He was born at Granada, in the year 1527, where the family of the Ponces de Leon, which was connected with the most distinguished of the Spanish nobility, flourished. At an early period of life, Luis de Leon felt a poetic inspiration, and cherished a love of retirement, which rendered him indifferent to outward show, and all the pleasures of the great world. He found only in poetry and in the contemplation of a superior existence that food for which his soul longed. His tranquil and gentle mind exhibited none of the gloomy features of monkish fanaticism, but was devoted to moral and religious meditation. As soon as he had finished his scholastic studies, he entered, of his own free choice, into the ecclesiastical state. He was sixteen years of age when he made his profession in the order of St. Augustine at Salamanca. Theology now became his proper occupation. In Spain, especially at that period, a man of the character of Luis de Leon, even if he possessed a mind capable of divesting itself of prejudice, could scarcely be expected to doubt the dogmas of the catholic faith; but his poetic imagination, which was not to be satisfied with their dry and scholastic interpretation, irresistibly impelled him to adorn them. Luis transferred the mild enthusiasm of his pious feelings into the theological studies, to which his vocation devoted him. On religious subjects he was a learned and diligent author; but his heart found, at least during the first years of his monastic life, only in poetry, the faithful interpreter of his love for that pure truth, to the attainment of which all his arduous efforts were directed. Though invested in his thirty-third year with the dignity of doctor of theology, he maintained, even within the cloister, his intimacy with the classic writers of antiquity. The Hebrew poetry also worked powerfully on his imagination; and on one occasion he nearly fell a martyr to an attempt to translate and comment on the Song of Solomon. He was very far from wishing to give a too liberal interpretation of the amatory language of the original. He explained the sacred poem in perfect accordance with the sense attributed to it by the church. But the inquisition had, at that time, strictly prohibited the translation of any part of the bible into the vulgar tongue. Luis de Leon, therefore, ventured to communicate his version in confidence to one friend only; but that friend was not faithful to his trust, and the translation found its way into the hands of several individuals. It was soon denounced to the inquisition, and the author was immediately thrown into prison by that terrible tribunal. He himself mentions, in one of his letters, that for the space of five years he was deprived of all communication with mankind, and was not even permitted to see the light of day.[226] Conscious of his innocence, he enjoyed during his captivity, according to his own testimony, a tranquillity and satisfaction of mind which he never afterwards so fully experienced, when restored to freedom, and the society of his friends.[227] At length justice was done to him, he returned in triumph to his monastery, and was reinstated in his ecclesiastical dignities. From that period, he appears to have been wholly devoted to the duties of his order and the study of theology. He died in 1591, in the sixty-fourth year of his age, being at that time general and provincial vicar of Salamanca.

The poems of this amiable enthusiast are, according to his own testimony,[228] for the most part the productions of his youth; but no other Spanish poet has succeeded in expressing the intense feelings of the heart under the control of so sound a judgment. It is only by reference to the pious tranquillity of a cultivated mind wrapt up in self communion, that the extraordinary correctness of this author’s style can be explained, for Luis de Leon is, without exception, the most correct of all the Spanish poets, though he constantly regarded the metrical clothing of his ideas as a very secondary object. To use his own language, he wrote poetry rather in fulfilment of his destiny, than purposely and by dint of study. At an early age he became intimately acquainted with the odes of Horace, and the elegance and purity of style which distinguish those compositions made a deep impression on his imagination. Classical simplicity and dignity were the models constantly present to his creative fancy. He, however, appropriated to himself the character of Horace’s poetry, too naturally ever to incur the danger of servile imitation. He discarded the prolix style of the canzone, and imitated the brevity of the strophes of Horace, in romantic syllabic measures and rhymes. More just feeling for the imitation of the ancients was never evinced by any modern poet. His odes have, however, a character totally different from those of Horace, though the sententious air which marks the style of both authors, imparts to them a deceptive resemblance. The religious austerity of Luis de Leon’s life was not to be reconciled with the epicurism of the latin poet; but, notwithstanding this very different disposition of the mind, it is not surprising that they should have adopted the same form of poetic expression, for each possessed a fine imagination, subordinate to the control of a sound understanding. Which of the two is the superior poet, in the most extended sense of the word, it would be difficult to determine, as each formed his style by free imitation, and neither overstepped the boundaries of a certain sphere of practical observation. Horace’s odes exhibit a superior style of art, and from the relationship between the thoughts and images, possess a degree of attraction which is wanting in those of Luis de Leon; but on the other hand, the latter are the more rich in that natural kind of poetry, which may be regarded as the overflowing of a pure soul, elevated to the loftiest regions of moral and religious idealism.[229]

Luis de Leon himself published a collection of his poetic works, divided into three books. The first, contains his original poems—the second, translations from some of the ancient classics—and the third, metrical versions of several of the psalms, and some parts of the book of Job.

The reader who peruses the poems of Luis de Leon, which are all odes, in the spirit in which the author wrote them, will fancy himself transported to a better world. No furious zeal disturbs the gentle piety that pervades them; no extravagant metaphor destroys the harmony of the ideas and expression; and no discordant accent breaks the pleasing melody of the rhythm. The idea of the perishableness of all earthly things,[230] is united with smiling pictures of nature.[231] The imitations of Horace are only introduced to aid the poetic light in which the poet views those objects which were peculiarly interesting to his contemporaries.[232] One of Luis de Leon’s most celebrated odes is the Noche Serena, but the concluding stanzas do not correspond with the beauty of the commencement.[233] In the ode to Felipe Ruiz, the ardent aspiration for heavenly truth is very picturesquely expressed.[234] But the exalted inspiration and tender enthusiasm in which Luis de Leon so widely departs from Horace, are most prominently evinced in his ode on Heavenly Life (De la Vida del Cielo). Here his fancy is bold without launching into extravagant metaphors. What an etherial effulgence glows through his lyric picture of “the soft bright region, the meadow of holiness, never blighted by frost, nor withered by the sun’s rays;—where the good shepherd, his head crowned with blossoms of purple and white, without either sling or staff, leads his beloved flock to the sweet pasture covered with everblooming roses;—where the shepherd, reclining in the shade at noon, blows his heavenly pipe, whose feeblest tone, should it descend on the ear of the poet, would transform his whole soul to love.”[235] The ode in which the genius of the Tagus prophecies to King Roderick the misfortunes of Spain, is more in Horace’s style, and possesses a very happy uniformity of character. In some other imitations of a similar kind, the fancy of the pious poet willingly descends from the heavenly regions. The poems contained in the first part of the collection are few in number. Those which Luis de Leon himself inserted, amount only to twenty-seven, and among them is an indifferent elegy, and a cancion in the Italian style of not much greater merit. Several other compositions, which he seems to have rejected, have been recently printed from manuscripts.[236]

The greater portion of the poetic works of Luis de Leon consists of translations; but these translations form an epoch in the department of literature to which they belong. Those in the second book of the collection are the first classical specimens, in modern literature, of the art of renewing the ancient poetry in modern forms. Luis de Leon has himself explained the principles by which he was guided in bringing the ancient poetry within the sphere of the romantic. He endeavoured to make the ancient poets speak, “as they would have expressed themselves, had they been born in his own age in Castile, and had they written in Castilian.”[237] However bold this attempt may appear, and whatever defects a translation of this kind may present to the eye of the connoisseur who wishes for a faithful resemblance of the original, and not a flowery imitation, yet if the validity of the principle be once admitted, Luis de Leon will be found to have fulfilled all that the most rigid critic can desire. Besides, it must be considered that translations of a more literal character would scarcely have found readers in Spain at that period. Luis de Leon translated Virgil’s eclogues, partly in tercets, and partly in coplas;[238] a considerable series of Horace’s odes in the same romantic syllabic measure which he chose for his own odes;[239]—and a portion of Virgil’s georgics in stanzas. But the easy flowing style of his Spanish version of Pindar’s first ode, excels all the rest.[240] To these translations are also added two imitations of Italian sonnets, which prove that he succeeded very well in that species of composition, though among his own original poems there is not a single sonnet. He translated the psalms of David, according to the rule he had prescribed to himself. His translations speedily obtained the rank in Spanish literature to which they were entitled; and they have served as models for all succeeding versions of Greek and Latin poetry in the Spanish language. Luis de Leon may indeed be blamed for having thwarted, by the style of translation which he introduced, all the attempts made to form Spanish poetry on the model of that of the ancients. But on the other hand, to his example the Spaniards are indebted for numerous translations of Greek and Latin poetry, which have all the air of Spanish originals.

If Luis de Leon had not confined his prose writings exclusively to spiritual subjects, he would doubtless have also exercised a very decided influence on the rhetorical cultivation of Spain. His sermons (oraciones) are, however, invariably mentioned in terms of praise by Spanish writers, whenever they allude to the theological literature of their country.[241] Among his other works intended for edification, The Woman as she should be, or The Perfect Wife, (La Perfecta Casada), will perhaps be found the most interesting to the untheological class of readers; though it constantly turns on the positive morality of Catholicism, and therefore, like every mixed treatise of theology and morals, is no legitimate specimen of the developement of ideas in the didactic style.[242]

Luis de Leon terminates the series of distinguished Spanish authors, who during the first half of the sixteenth century, composed after the model of the great poets of Italy, or the ancient classics, and who, by the superiority of their genius, mainly contributed to give a new character to Spanish poetry. There are, however others, whose poetic works ought not to be passed over in silence; but to follow the example of those writers, who have hitherto related the history of Spanish poetry, without separating subordinate from eminent talent, would be to prolong an act of injustice. At the same time to the continuation which must be made of the history of the lyric and pastoral poetry of Spain, during the first half of the sixteenth century, may be very properly added some account of a few unsuccessful efforts in epic composition, and a notice of the further progress of the old national poetry during the same period.

MINOR SPANISH POETS DURING THE PERIOD OF THIS SECTION, VIZ. ACUÑA—CETINA—PADILLA—GIL POLO.

Fernando de Acuña, one of the first of the distinguished men who became the disciples of Boscan and Garcilaso, was of Portuguese extraction, but born in Madrid, probably about the beginning of the sixteenth century.[243] He signalized himself in the campaigns of Charles V. and was also a person of consideration at the court of that monarch. He lived on terms of intimate friendship with Garcilaso de la Vega, whom he survived for a considerable period, for it appears that his death did not take place until the year 1580. He proved his taste for classical literature by translations and imitations. He paraphrased in iambic blank verse, several passages from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, and among the rest, the dispute between Ajax and Ulysses for the arms of Achilles, in very correct and harmonious language. He likewise translated some of the Heroides of the same author in tercets. In his own sonnets, cancions, and elegies, which are replete with sentiment and grace, it is easy to recognise a poet who successfully laboured to attain classical elegance of style.[244] He was also one of the first poets, who, by composing in short strophes, endeavoured to form an intermediate style between the Italian canzone and the Spanish cancion.[245]

Gutierre de Cetina is less known, though there is no doubt of his having lived about the same period, as he is mentioned by Herrera in his Commentary on the Works of Garcilaso. He was, like Herrera, a native of Seville; and having removed to Madrid, was there invested with an ecclesiastical dignity. Few of his poems have been printed;[246] but from those few it is obvious that he had a fair chance of becoming the Anacreon of Spain. That glory, however, was reserved for Villegas. Still Gutierre de Cetina’s imitations of the anacreontic style are not without their share of sweetness and grace; and they are moreover remarkable as being the first productions in the class to which they belong.[247] His madrigals also seem to have had no prototype in Spanish literature.[248] In his canciones, however, the romantic enthusiasm occasionally degenerates into absurdity.[249]

Pedro do Padilla, a knight of the spiritual order of St. Jago, must be ranked in the same class with Gutierre. He vied with Garcilaso in pastoral poetry; and in order to conciliate the partizans of both the old and the new styles, he introduced alternately in the same eclogue the Italian and the ancient Spanish metres.[250] His poetry is still esteemed in Spain. He followed the old national custom by making the events connected with the war in the Netherlands serve as subjects for romances.[251]

But a poet still more celebrated, and in a great degree indebted for his fame to the immoderate encomium bestowed upon him by the pen of Cervantes, is Gaspar Gil Polo, a native of Valencia, who continued and concluded Montemayor’s Diana under the title of La Diana enamorada.[252] A continuation of this pastoral romance had previously been undertaken by a writer named Perez; but without success. Gil Polo in one respect effected more than did Montemayor himself; but in point of invention he is inferior, notwithstanding the faults of the original plan. After Sireno has been cured of his love by the sage Felicia, Gil Polo makes the passion of Diana revive, and renders her more unhappy for Sireno’s sake, than he had previously been for hers. Thus the romantic story is reversed; but the new relations under which it now appears are few. In the sequel the aid of the sage Felicia is again obtained, and she finally unites the long separated lovers. The narrative style in the prose portion of the romance presents a very correct imitation of Montemayor; but neither the merit of this imitation, nor the continuation of the metaphysical reflections on love, with which the romance is interspersed, would have gained for Gil Polo the approbation of the critic. What must have raised him higher than Montemayor in the estimation of such a judge as Cervantes, is the precision and clearness of the ideas, and the perfect polish of style in the poetic part of the romance. Montemayor has often indulged in too subtle or sophistical plays of wit. Gil Polo in painting the feelings has exercised a sounder judgment, without, however, descending to the coldness of prose. His sonnets may be regarded as models; for he has succeeded in combining the unity of ideas, which ought to distinguish that species of composition, with the most elegant rounding and regularity of structure.[253] In his canciones he has occasionally, for the sake of variety, imitated the Provençal rhymes (rimas Provenzales) with such happy dexterity, that the reader might fancy himself perusing some of the best opera songs, though no such thing as an opera then existed.[254] In like manner, he endeavoured to naturalize the metrical structure of French verse (rimas Franceses) in the Spanish language, upon which the burthen of alexandrines had already been inflicted.[255] In compliment to the old Spanish taste, he bedecked his romance with a profusion of versified riddles (preguntas,) which are, for the most part, so exceedingly dull, that it is difficult to conceive how they could be endured by a man of Gil Polo’s talent.[256] In honour of Valencia, his native city, he composed a poem, in which the genius of the little river Turia is made to sing the praises of the celebrated men to whom Valencia had given birth. This song of Turia (Canto de Turia) has found patriotic commentators, without whose laborious explanations it would have been unintelligible to foreign readers.[257]

OBSTACLES TO THE IMITATION OF THE ROMANTIC EPOPEE IN SPAIN—UNSUCCESSFUL ESSAYS IN SERIOUS EPOPEE—TRANSLATIONS OF CLASSICAL EPIC POETRY.

Though Spanish literature was in the manner just recorded, enriched during half a century by numerous lyric and pastoral compositions, which deserve to be handed down with honour to posterity, yet within the same interval epic poetry made but little advancement in Spain.

Early in this period the absurd name of idyls (idyllios) appears to have been applied to such narrative poems as were not romances, and to have marked out a particular field for a kind of poetic tales, which were in some measure imitations from the ancients, and yet were executed in the romantic style. Such, for example, was Boscan’s free translation of the story of Hero and Leander from Musæus, which the Spaniards call their first idyl. Thus the term idyls in Spanish, conveys no idea of pastoral poems, which are always called eclogues (eglogas.)[258] Castillejo, of whom further mention will shortly be made, imitated in old Castilian verse, stories from Ovid, and gave to them the name of idyls. The spurious heroic style which the authors of these tales introduced, proved, without doubt, one of the obstacles to the cultivation of chivalrous epic poetry in Spain; but it is also to be recollected, that the luxuriant mixture of the comic with the serious, which is the very soul of the romantic epopee of the Italians, was by no means congenial to Spanish taste. In Spain the works of Boyardo and Ariosto were known only through the medium of bad translations, and were read merely with the interest attached to all books of chivalry. Finally, the spirit of the old romance poetry was also hostile to the chivalric epopee. To descend from the cordial gravity of the national narrative romances, to the careless levity with which the venerable heroes of chivalry were treated by the Italian writers, was a transition repugnant to the patriotic feelings of the Spaniards; who, in their wars with the Italians, were the more disposed to be proud of the preservation of their national spirit of chivalry, when they found that it facilitated their victories over men who were better fitted for intrigue than for defending their freedom sword in hand. Thus, to the chivalrous epopee of the Italians, the Spaniards remained as completely strangers, as if they had been excluded from all opportunity of becoming acquainted with that kind of composition; and yet the period when the Spaniards and Italians maintained the closest political and literary relations, precisely corresponds with that of Ariosto’s first celebrity, and of the numerous imitations of the Orlando Furioso, which appeared in the Italian language.[259]

On the contrary, several Spanish poets, during the first half of the sixteenth century, zealously competed for the palm in the serious epopee; but obstacles again arose, which all the force of Spanish genius was not sufficient to surmount. Torquato Tasso had not yet shewn what the serious epic was capable of becoming, and what it must be, in order to be reconciled to the taste of modern times. The Spaniards were so little prepared for the new poetry with which they had suddenly been made acquainted on the first imitation of the Italian style, that they could not be expected to enter without a guide into the true spirit of the modern epopee. The men, who at this time boldly attempted to become the Homers of their country, appear to have felt that they could not select from ancient history the materials for an epic poem. But on the other hand, their patriotic feelings prepossessed them too much in favour of events of recent occurrence. The age in which they themselves lived was, in their eyes, the most illustrious and the most worthy of epic glory; a Spanish Homer could record no achievements save those of the Spaniards under Charles V.; and the hero, who in their poems eclipsed all others, was their favourite Charles, the never conquered, (el nunca vencido,) as he was styled by all the Spanish writers of the sixteenth century. Thus arose the Caroliads, or heroic poems, in praise of Charles V. all of which speedily sunk into oblivion. Among them were the Carlos Famoso, by Luis de Zapata; the Carlos Victorioso, by Geronymo de Urrea; La Carolea, by the Valencian poet, Geronymo Sampèr, &c. Alonzo Lopez, surnamed Pinciano, who flourished at the commencement of the sixteenth century, was more happy in his choice of an epic subject. The hero of his story is Pelayo, the brave descendant of the visigothic kings, who, in his turn, was the first to subdue the Arabs. But Pinciano’s poem, which he entitled El Pelayo, had no better fate than the Caroliads.[260]

The present seems a fit opportunity for mentioning La fuente de Alcover, a narrative poem, which though of humbler pretensions than the Caroliads, experienced considerable success. The author, Felipe Mey, who was of Flemish extraction, was a bookseller in Valencia. Encouraged by his patron, Antonio Agustin, bishop of Tarragona, he chose a few stanzas, written by that ingenious prelate, as the ground work of a mythological poem. The idea originated in the name given to a plant (capillus veneris), through which the water trickling drop by drop, at length forms a little fountain. This pretty poem makes, along with some others by Felipe Mey, an appendix to his unfinished translation of Ovid’s Metamorphoses in octave verse. It deserves also to be mentioned, that this translation reads like a modern poem; both language and versification are excellent.[261]

Some other translations of the ancient classic poets which appeared, during this period, remain to be noticed. Gonzalo Perez, a native of Arragon, is the author of a poetic translation of Homer’s Odyssey, in the Castilian language. The first edition was printed in 1552, and the second in 1562; so that it seems the Spanish public felt an interest in this extension of their poetic literature. Gregorio Fernandez translated the Æneid and several of Virgil’s eclogues in verse; and in the like manner Juan de Guzman executed a complete version of the georgics. All these translations, however, like those of Luis de Leon, must be regarded as re-casts of ancient materials into modern moulds, rather than translations, in the strict sense of the term. But, in an age and country, in which both the people and the language were imbued with the spirit of the romantic poetry, to have attempted to introduce the classic poets of Greece or Rome in any other way than in a romantic dress, would have been to do violence to the genius of the language and the nation.[262]

PROGRESS OF THE ROMANTIC POETRY—CASTILLEJO: HIS CONTEST WITH THE PARTIZANS OF THE ITALIAN STYLE.

The rapid success of the imitators of the Italian and classic styles, did not, however, deprive the old romance poetry of its rank, either in literature or in public estimation. The first half of the sixteenth century, was doubtless the period when most of the old romances, then first brought together in collections, received the form which they have retained down to the present day; and, in all probability, not less than half the romances and canciones collected in the Romanceros generales, particularly the mythological, anacreontic, and comic kinds, had no existence previous to that period.

But no poet of that age defended the cause of the old Castilian poetry, in all its various forms, with so much talent and zeal as Christoval de Castillejo, the most illustrious of the literary opponents of the Italian style. Castillejo obtained the post of secretary in the service of the Emperor Ferdinand I. an appointment which was a consequence of the relations still subsisting between the courts of Madrid and Vienna, after the death of Charles V. notwithstanding that the German empire was then separated from the Spanish monarchy. The greater part of Castillejo’s poems were written in Vienna; and are full of allusions to the gay sphere of life in which he moved at the imperial court. A young German lady, named Schomburg, of whom he seems to have been an ardent admirer, figures in his poems, under the name of Xomburg, because nothing like the hissing sound of the German sch, could be expressed by the same characters in the Castilian language. Advanced in life, and tired of gallantry and the gay world, he returned to Spain, became a Cistercian monk, and died in a convent in 1596. The admirers of Castillejo[263] assign to him the first rank among Spanish poets; but the unprejudiced critic cannot, in justice, elevate him to so high a station. His poetic horizon was very limited. He was determined to be nothing but an old Castilian in poetic taste, as in every thing else. He ridiculed Boscan, Garcilaso, and all the Spanish poets of the new party, with more wit than judgment.[264] He asserted, though without foundation, that the old Castilian metres and forms of rhyme were alone suited to the Castilian language; and for want of better arguments to urge against the amatory poetry of Italy, he asserted that all poetry of love was to be regarded as mere raillery, without reflecting, that in supporting this opinion he cast more reproach on the old Spaniards than on the Italians.[265] The structure of Italian verse appeared constrained to a poet, who confounded rapidity with facility of style. The loose rhythm of the redondillas, was with him an exclusive beauty of the syllabic structure of his mother tongue, for he had no taste for a more regular style of poetry; and some of his happiest productions are limited merely to graceful plays of the imagination. His fertility in these sports of fancy, could not fail to obtain for him the esteem of his countrymen, who were ever too ready to tolerate, and even to admire, the subtle twisting of quaint and fanciful conceits; but of all other poetic faults, most reluctant to pardon heaviness of manner, particularly in versification.

Some of Castillejo’s canciones are, however, so exquisite, that it is scarcely possible to resist the temptation of placing their author in the very foremost rank of poets.[266] But in spite of his captivating fluency of style and power of expression, most of his works bear traces of a mental boundary which every great poet oversteps. A sort of affected verbosity often usurps the place of real wit, particularly in his longer poems; and it not unfrequently happens that whole pages of Castillejo’s flowing verse are to the reader nothing more than lively prose. The strong inclination to levity, which he cannot resist, even when he wishes to be serious, is a distinguishing feature in all the poetic essays of this ingenious author, who has thus sometimes given to his works more of a French than a Spanish character.

Castillejo arranged his lyric works in three books, and they are so printed under the title of Obras Liricas. Only a small portion of these poems, however, properly belongs to the lyric class;[267] and the author doubtless collected them together, under this general title, for the purpose of distinguishing them from his comedies, which are but little known. The first book contains amatory poems, (Obras amatorias), songs, jests, epistles, glosses after the old fashion, and in conclusion, a piece which he styled a (Capitulo) on love. The songs, for the most part, commence in a serious tone,[268] but speedily assume a comic turn, with which they usually conclude.[269] Some are burlesque parodies on the affected ecstasies and extravagant metaphors of the Spanish sonnet writers. Such, for example, is the “Tower of Lamentation,” or the “Wind Tower,” (Torre de Viento,) which is supposed to be built entirely of lovers’ sighs. Some shorter poems, in the madrigal style, are among the best in this first book.[270] There is also an “Exclamatory Epistle,” (Epistola Exclamatoria,) the spirit and style of which are sufficiently indicated by the title. Among the popular verses which the playful humour of Castillejo prompted him to gloss in the form of Villancicos, is one which merely says, “If you tend my cows, my love, I will give you a kiss; but give me a kiss and I will tend yours.”[271] Productions of this description found favour with the readers for whom they were intended. His humorous poems, which are all more or less disguised under an air of seriousness, contain a tale (historia) imitated from Ovid, which may be called an idyl according to the literary terminology of the Spaniards. The second book contains conversational and diverting pieces, (obras de conversacion y de pasatiempo.) At the commencement appear the railleries of Castillejo against the Petrarchists. The longest poem in this book is a Dialogue on Women, (Dialogo de la Condicion de las Mugeres,) which is here and there enlivened by admirable sallies of wit;[272] but upon the whole it is nothing more than burlesque prose ideas dressed in easy verse.[273] The third book, which contains moral works, (obras morales,) is most prolix of all. The satires contained in this third book have certainly a moral tendency, though that object is in a great measure defeated by Castillejo’s sportive style. The moral is lost in a torrent of words, while the serious thoughts of which the verse is the vehicle, are for the most part trivial.[274] Notwithstanding the moral design of this third book, the Spanish inquisition was for some time undecided with respect to its fate. The publication of all the poems of Castillejo was prohibited; but after some further deliberation the inquisition permitted the sale of an edition, after it had undergone a rigid revisal by the censor.

HISTORY OF SPANISH DRAMATIC POETRY, DURING THE FIRST HALF AND TEN SUCCEEDING YEARS OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

In the reign of Charles V. amidst a throng of diversified talent, and during the conflict between the old and new poetic styles, the Spanish drama began to flourish. Considered in a literary point of view, it can scarcely be said to have existed before that period; but it arose under happier auspices than those which about the same period accompanied the birth of the Italian drama, to which the struggle between the learned and the popular burlesque styles afforded less hope of success. The sacred and profane pastoral dialogues of Juan de la Enzina were, at the commencement of the sixteenth century, still the only dramatic compositions in the Spanish language, to which any degree of literary respect was attached, and they were, by especial favour, allowed to be performed at court.[275] With the exception of mysteries, spiritual moralities, and burlesque representations of religious ceremonies, the Spanish nation, at this time, knew nothing of dramatic entertainments. No poet of reputation had hitherto devoted his attention to this species of composition; but the nation evinced by its attachment to those rude exhibitions, that tenacity which is a great feature in its character, and which even in matters of taste permits no reform to take place which does not perfectly accord with the inclination of the public. This constancy of the national character must never for a moment be lost sight of, while tracing the history of the Spanish drama; but even with this peculiar circumstance carefully kept in view, it is still impossible to give a very satisfactory account of the early progress of dramatic poetry among the Spaniards; for the notices which must be resorted to for that purpose, are both defective and confused.[276]

It is above all things necessary to begin by distinguishing the three or four parties, which on totally different principles endeavoured to cultivate dramatic poetry in Spain, and which appear to have been hitherto overlooked by the writers on Spanish literature, merely because each of those parties pursued its object, without openly declaring war against the others. Critical cultivation was not yet so far advanced in Spain as to open a field for literary warfare. But the heterogeneous nature of the Spanish dramas of the first half and ten following years of the sixteenth century, renders it evident, on a very slight examination, that the authors who composed them must have been influenced by different views.[277]

The party called the erudite, was the first which at that period laboured to introduce into Spain a style of dramatic literature, worthy to be called national. This party consisted of men of information and taste, though possessing but little knowledge of the true art of dramatic poetry, and still less of imagination. These men, like a similar party in Italy, endeavoured to form the modern drama on the model of the antique. As, however, the most zealous among them did not possess sufficient talent to imitate the ancient models, they began to translate them, and performed their task in prose. A Spanish translation of the Amphitryon of Plautus, by Villalobos, physician to Charles V. was printed in 1515. Shortly afterwards there appeared a new translation of the same drama, by Perez de Oliva, a prose writer of considerable merit, who will be further noticed in the course of this history. Perez de Oliva even ventured to make a prose version of the Electra of Sophocles. This unfortunate attempt appeared under the title of La Venganza de Agamemnon.[278] He also translated the Hecuba of Euripides. At a somewhat later period the Portuguese comedies of Vasconcellos, written in the manner of Plautus, were published in the Castilian language. Translations of several comedies of Plautus subsequently appeared, and at length Pedro Simon de Abril published a complete translation of Terence, which is still much esteemed by the Spaniards.[279] Thus it was not the fault of the erudite party that the Spanish drama did not resemble the ancient. But to introduce in Spain the tragic style of the classic drama, in all its poetic purity, or even the style of the ancient comedies in iambic verse, was an idea which could only have originated with scholars who did not understand the character of the Spanish public. The translators, therefore, even those who endeavoured to conciliate the public taste by prose versions, formed, with their learned friends, a solitary party. No first rate poet arose in Spain, like Ariosto in Italy, to amuse and instruct the public by original dramatic compositions on the classic model. It is possible that essays in the ancient manner may have been performed on some Spanish stage, particularly at Seville, but they are now totally lost; and no attempt seems ever to have been made to represent Spanish translations of Greek and Latin plays.

The party of the dramatic moralists approximated the closest to that which has just been described. The interlocutory romance of Cœlestina,[280] or Calistus and Melibœa, poor in invention, but possessing in its natural descriptions of common life, an attraction for many readers, was, on account of its moral tendency, admired as a master-piece of dramatic art. As this dramatic romance was called a comedy or tragi-comedy, some of its admirers conceived themselves bound to write comedies and tragi-comedies in the same style for the moral benefit of society. Whether these productions were, or were not, calculated for representation, seems never to have been a subject of consideration with their authors. They were content if the scenes which they strung together exhibited in natural language the lowest pictures of common life, and forcibly marked the dangers attendant on vice. To do this requires only an ordinary share of talent, and accordingly Cœlestina was followed by a torrent of similar “Mirrors of Sin” in the Castilian language. The greater number appeared during the first half of the sixteenth century, or shortly afterwards; and among them were Policiana, entitled a tragedy;[281] Perseus and Tibaldea, a comedy; De la hechicera (of the Witch), a comedy; Florinea, a comedy, &c. The author of a work of this kind, entitled La Doleria del Sueño del Mundo, (the Anguish of the Sleep of the World,) mentions in his title-page, that it is a comedy in the style of philosophic morality, (Comedia tratada por via de philosophia moral.) All these insipid moral lessons were read and admired in their day; but their extreme length prevented them from getting possession of the stage.[282]

Equally removed from the moral and the erudite party, was Bartholomè Torres Naharro, a man doubtless of extraordinary talent. He was the founder of a third party, which uniting with a fourth, that had for a short interval preceded it, ultimately triumphed as the only national party, and obtained exclusive control over the Spanish drama. It is a singular circumstance, and yet one to which the historians of Spanish literature have not called the attention of their readers, that Cervantes in his comic sketch of the early History of the Spanish Drama, mentions not a syllable respecting Torres Naharro, while the editor of Cervantes’s comedies, who has prefixed to them that sketch, declares, in his preface, Torres Naharro to be the real inventor of the forms of the Spanish comedy. Torres Naharro was born in the little town of Torre, on the Portuguese frontiers, and flourished in the beginning of the sixteenth century. Of the history of his life but little is known. All accounts, however, agree in describing him to have been an ecclesiastic and a man of learning. After a shipwreck which involved him in various adventures, he arrived at Rome during the pontificate of Leo X. In that friend of genius he found a distinguished patron. It is, however, extremely improbable, that his comedies were performed before the pope at Rome, though such an assertion has been made by Spanish writers, and has given offence to some Italians. It is certainly by no means likely, that an occurrence so unusual, should have escaped the notice of all Italian authors; and Pope Leo can scarcely be supposed to have had any strong inducement to study the Spanish language which is not agreeable to Italian ears. It is more probable that Naharro’s comedies were represented in Naples, for there a Spanish audience was to be found; and Naharro himself proceeded to Naples when the difficulties into which his satirical writings involved him, obliged him to quit Rome.

The above are the only particulars that can be obtained respecting the life of this extraordinary man; and it is not certain how far they can be relied on, as they are gathered from writers who do not mention the sources from whence they derived their information.[283] It is not improbable that Naharro’s comedies were performed only in Naples, and not in Spain, where there was no theatre suited to their representation; for according to the account of Cervantes, who speaks as an eye-witness, the whole apparatus of a Spanish theatre, about the middle of the sixteenth century, consisted of a few boards and benches, and a wardrobe, and decorations, which were contained in a sack.

But whatever may have been the fate of the comedies of Naharro, with respect to the stage in Spain, they were certainly printed along with the other poetic works of the author, in the year 1521, or at latest in 1533, under the learned title of Propaladia, intended to signify exercises in the school of Pallas.[284] Judging from the accounts given of these dramas by various writers, there is very little doubt that Torres Naharro was the real inventor of the Spanish comedy. He not only wrote his eight comedies in redondillas in the romance style, but he also endeavoured to establish the dramatic interest solely on an ingenious combination of intrigues, without attaching much importance to the developement of character, or the moral tendency of the story. It is besides probable, that he was the first who divided plays into three acts, which being regarded as three days labour in the dramatic field, were called jornadas.[285] It must, therefore, be unreservedly admitted, that these dramas, considered both with respect to their spirit and their form, deserve to be ranked as the first in the history of the Spanish national drama; for in the same path which Torres Naharro first trod, the dramatic genius of Spain advanced to the point attained by Calderon, and the nation tolerated no dramas except those which belonged to the style which had thus been created.

It would appear, however, that there was something in the plays of Naharro which did not precisely harmonize with the taste of the Spanish public, for they were banished from literature and thrown into oblivion by the prose dramas which Cervantes saw represented in his youth. The author of these pieces, in which songs are sometimes episodically introduced, was Lope de Rueda, a native of Seville. This man, who was a gold-beater by trade, and who had received no literary education, was notwithstanding endowed with a strong genius for the dramatic art. Cervantes styles him the great Lope de Rueda. He did not compose his plays in the character of an author. He was at the head of a little company of players of whom he was himself the ablest; and his own taste and that of the public required only such pieces as could be easily represented on his wretched stage which consisted merely of a few planks of wood. The most prominent characters in Lope de Rueda’s dramatic compositions, were those which the author himself performed, and which, according to the testimony of Cervantes, he delineated in a highly natural style. In fools, roguish servants, biscayan boors, and such like characters, he particularly excelled. He did not neglect to avail himself of the accidental union of the Spanish drama with pastoral poetry, and he wrote some pastoral dialogues (coloquios pastoriles) in prose. On this account his theatrical wardrobe, of which Cervantes gives a humorous description, contained four shepherds dresses of white fur, trimmed with gold, an equal number of wigs and shepherds crooks, and likewise four beards. The beards, it would appear were indispensable in comedies of every kind; and the public became so accustomed to call an old man’s part in comedy the beard, that the theatrical term barba was retained even after the custom of wearing beards had long been exploded from the stage.

Juan Timoneda has made careful collections of the comedies and pastoral dramas of Lope de Rueda, by which we are enabled to judge of the literary merit of these works, divested of the advantage which they must have derived from the living representation of their author. Timoneda, who was a bookseller in Valencia, was the friend and enthusiastic admirer of Lope de Rueda; but in regard to literary acquirements he ranked somewhat higher than that actor. He was indeed a man of genius and talent, as is evident from his novels, which are little known, and which have yet to be more particularly noticed in this work. He printed in small collections, the pastoral dialogues and plays of Lope de Rueda, making such alterations as were necessary both in the language and style.[286] These productions equally indicate the experienced master in the developement of character, and the untutored pupil of nature following his own caprice. Lope de Rueda’s pastoral dialogues possess more dignity, if the term may be used, than his plays, and they are moreover imbued with a certain poetic character which harmonizes admirably with the songs occasionally introduced. With regard to invention and style, however, there is but little difference between the dialogues and the plays, but the pastoral costume of the dramatis personæ produces a certain heterogeneous effect; for the half Arcadian, and half Spanish shepherds, are brought in contact with negresses, barbers, and other characters of common life and modern stamp. Lope de Rueda was not inattentive to general character, as is proved by his delineation of old men, clowns, &c. in which he was particularly successful. But his principal aim was to interweave in his dramas, a succession of intrigues; and, as he seems to have been a stranger to the art of producing stage effect by striking situations, he made complication the great object of his plots. Thus mistakes, arising from personal resemblances, exchanges of children, and such like common place subjects of intrigue, form the ground work of his stories, none of which are remarkable for ingenuity of invention. There is usually a multitude of characters in his dramas, and jests and witticisms are freely introduced, but these in general consist of burlesque disputes in which some clown is engaged.[287]

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.

HISTORY OF SPANISH PROSE DURING THE FIRST HALF AND TEN SUCCEEDING YEARS OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

Among the works of the poets which come within the period allotted to the first section of this book, it has already been necessary to notice some writings in prose. The connexion then subsisting between Spanish poetry and prose, has thus been rendered more apparent, and the different works of the same author have been kept together in examining them. But the poetic talent of some authors of that age, for example, Perez de Oliva, will not bear a comparison with their merits as prose writers; and many others who have obtained reputation for prose composition, must be totally excluded from the rank of poets. In general the good sense of the Spanish writers has constantly impelled them to mark a distinct boundary between poetry and prose; and this separation was never more rigorously maintained than during the first half of the sixteenth century, when the torrent of romances of chivalry which then inundated Spain, threatened the common annihilation of genuine poetry and eloquent prose. As very little has hitherto been done in this department of literature, advantage cannot fail to be derived from the labour which may be employed in endeavouring to obtain something like an accurate introduction to the knowledge of several good Spanish prose writers, whose names have hitherto scarcely appeared in the history of modern literature.

Every one who has read Don Quixote must be aware of the enthusiasm with which romances of chivalry were admired by the Spaniards, at the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth century. In the reign of Charles V. this passion became epidemic; for then the art of printing gave general circulation to the old romances, and new imitations were not wanting. But the particular account of this portion of Spanish literature, does not belong to the present subject, and ought to form the conclusion of the history of the romantic literature of the middle ages. Besides, the influence of the chivalrous romances of the sixteenth century, operated on the public only in a peculiar sense of the term, for every poet and prose writer, of cultivated talent, laboured to oppose the contagion. There were, however, many literary partizans, who did not scruple to flatter the public taste by the grossest absurdities. A writer, named Geronymo de Sanpedro, with the most devout piety, selected stories from the bible, and clothed them, as he expresses himself, in the allegoric costume of romance. He entitled his fantastical work, “The Book of Celestial Chivalry from the Foot of the Fragrant Rose-bush.[303]” God the Father is introduced in this edifying production as emperor, and Christ as the knight of the Lion, (Caballero del Leon). In the meantime an opponent of the zealots of chivalry, named Doctor Alexio de Venegas, anathematized all romances, which he styled, “Devil’s Sermon Books,” (Sermonarios de Satanas).[304] In this manner parties contended one with another in Spain, until at length the romantic literature disappeared like a stream lost amidst sand.

At this period there appears to have existed no novels or romances in the modern style, except the Lazarillo de Tormes of Diego de Mendoza. The well known imitations of this first romance of knavery (del gusto picaresco) did not come into circulation before the end of the sixteenth century. Little stories in the style of the Italian novels were, it is true, written at an earlier period; but their author, the bookseller Timoneda, the same individual who collected the comedies and pastoral dramas of Lope de Rueda, did not venture to prefix to them the title of Novelas. He was aware that he could better recommend his works to the Spanish public, by giving them the old denomination of Patrañas (Tales).[305] Timoneda evidently imitated the Italian novelists, though he by no means equalled them. Still, however, these antiquated tales may be perused with pleasure, particularly by those who have a taste for complicated intrigue. The author, it would appear, endeavoured to surpass the Italian writers in romantic adventures and unexpected incidents; at least in his preface he expressly promises this kind of entertainment to his readers.

But it was not merely with romances and novels that genuine prose literature had to contend in Spain. Several men of distinguished talent, however far they carried their notions of patriotism in other respects, were of opinion that the Spanish language was incapable of expressing grave and noble ideas in prose. Some would write only in Latin, and others only in Italian. Alphonso de Ulloa, who was an assiduous historical and political author, wrote chiefly in Italian.[306] He was, it is true, born in Italy; but he was of a Spanish family, and the Spanish language was perfectly familiar to him. The want of confidence thus shewn by Spanish writers in the force and precision of their own language seems inexplicable, when it is recollected at how early a period Spanish prose began to be cultivated. Their intercourse with the Italians had, however, made the Spaniards perceive a want of elegance both in their colloquial phraseology and literary style; but that grace which their poets soon began to imitate from the Italians, is but feebly indicated in the works of the early Spanish prose writers, whatever other rhetorical merits they might possess, and a frank simplicity of expression appears still to have constituted the main character of Spanish prose. Besides, the Italian prose, which with the exception of the writings of Machiavell and Guicciardini is distinguished by a playful and too often superficial elegance, could not be very congenial to the Spanish taste, which required a grave and energetic style. To imitate the ancient classics was the only means whereby the prose literature of Spain could have been cultivated in a manner answerable to the demands of enlightened men in the sixteenth century. Unfortunately the ecclesiastical and political despotism of this period left no free scope for the exercise of the mental powers of those Spaniards who were desirous of constructing a national prose style on the ancient models. Neither the didactic nor the historical styles could be freely developed; and for the formation of the oratorical style, circumstances were, if possible, still more unfavourable. Impeded by such obstacles, and permitted only to copy in the strictest sense the rhetorical forms of the ancients, without their energy and solidity of thought, and their force of expression, the Spanish prose writers certainly could not be expected to produce works worthy to be ranked on a level with the classic examples they would have wished to emulate; but their efforts to open the career of genuine eloquence to their national literature, deserves, notwithstanding, to be honourably recorded.

1. Didactic Prose is, in the Spanish language, indebted for its first formation to Fernan Perez de Oliva of Cordova. At the commencement of the sixteenth century this learned man travelled through Italy and France, and during three years which he spent in Paris delivered public lectures on philosophy and ancient literature. On his return to Spain he settled at Salamanca, where he became professor (cathedratico) of theology, and delivered lectures on the Aristotelian philosophy. He died in 1533, before he had completed his thirty-sixth year.[307] His philosophic and theological studies, and his intimacy with Grecian and Roman literature, did not withhold him from the cultivation of his native language; and he even endeavoured, by his translations which have already been mentioned,[308] to naturalize the Greek tragedy in Spain. He also wrote several poems, which in honour of his memory, are still preserved. But Perez de Oliva was no poet; and to judge from his translations he appears to have had scarcely any true poetic feeling, though he possessed a correct and delicate taste for the rhetorical beauty of prose. His most celebrated work is his Dialogue on the Dignity of Man (Dialogo de la Dignidad del Hombre) in the manner of Cicero.[309] It would be vain to seek in this didactic dialogue for ideas which present the merit of novelty in the present age; and it can by no means be regarded as a model of dialogue style any more than the similar works of Cicero. But it was the first specimen in Spanish literature, of clear and connected discussion, maintained in correct dignified and elegant language. The colloquial form serves to connect, though somewhat loosely, the two portions into which the work is divided. Two philosophic friends meet, and their conversation turns on solitude: they endeavour to explain the causes which induce man to seek retirement, and which render him dissatisfied with the society of his fellow creatures. One of the friends inveighs against human society, while the other extols its advantages. In the mean while they are joined by a third philosopher who becomes the arbiter. Before this judge each disputant propounds his opinions in an uninterrupted discourse. Thus the oratorical style is now mingled with the didactic, which had before superseded the colloquial style. This blending of the didactic and oratorical styles, must doubtless be a subject of critical censure to many readers; but with the exception of the oratorical passages, the dialogue of Perez de Oliva is written, in a natural and easy manner.[310] The ideas are for the most part clearly and accurately developed,[311] and the oratorical language, particularly where it is appropriately introduced, is powerful and picturesque.[312]

Perez de Oliva had a successful pupil in his nephew Ambrosio de Morales, who was also a native of Cordova. This learned writer was born in the year 1513; after having finished his academic studies at the university of Alcala de Henares, he delivered public lectures on philosophy and ancient literature, by which he soon acquired an honourable reputation. Charles V. appointed him classical tutor to his natural son Don John of Austria, who afterwards became so celebrated. On the death of Charles V. Ambrosio de Morales was installed by King Philip II. in the vacant post of historiographer or chronicler (coronista) of Castile. From the period when he entered upon this office he appears to have devoted himself exclusively to historical studies. He died at an advanced age. His didactic works consist of treatises (discursos) on various subjects of practical philosophy and literature. In one of these treatises, he expressly and urgently recommends the rhetorical cultivation of the Spanish language, which the writers of that age so unjustly disowned and neglected to the great prejudice of literature and even of philosophy.[313] The other dissertations of this meritorious writer, which are not so much known, relate to the importance of rhetorical studies; the distinction between Plato’s and Aristotle’s methods of instruction; the duty of man to exert himself to the utmost when he wishes for the assistance of the Almighty; the difference between a great and a good understanding; the value of wealth, independent of personal merit in the possessor; and such like objects of general utility. He only occasionally casts a side glance on the region of speculative philosophy, so that among Germans he might with propriety be called the Spanish Garve. Like that author his views were clear rather than profound; and like him also his object was to write pure didactic prose. His style, though not energetic nor impressive, is natural, clear, and precise, and not unfrequently adorned with pleasing images.[314] The pedantic allusions to the scriptures and to classical literature must be attributed to the age and country to which Morales belonged.[315]

Pedro de Valles, another native of Cordova, followed the example of Perez de Oliva, in cultivating prose; but he inclined to the pomp and antitheses of Seneca, which he was perhaps induced to imitate from respect for his countryman; for the learned of Cordova have always prided themselves in being natives of a city which had produced an ancient author of so much celebrity. Morales, in his collection of his own and his uncle’s works, has inserted a treatise by Valles on the Fear of Death.[316]

Francisco Cervantes de Salazar, who lived about the same period, likewise followed the tract which had been marked out by Perez de Oliva. Respecting the life of this writer but few particulars are known; and the resemblance of his name to that of the celebrated Cervantes Saavedra, does not appear to be a sufficient reason for concluding that he was related to that distinguished author. Cervantes de Salazar wrote a continuation of Oliva’s Dialogue on the Dignity of Man; for he regarded it as unfinished, because Oliva allows the friend and the enemy of human nature to deliver their opinions, while the third party, who is appointed the philosophic arbiter, draws no inference from the arguments he hears. Through the medium of this third character, Salazar circumstantially recapitulates the whole theme, and arrives at a decided conclusion. Salazar is a more contemplative writer than Oliva, who, in other respects appears to have been his model. He translated from the Greek the Tabla of Cebes, and from the Latin the Introductio ad sapientiam of Luis Vives, one of the learned Spaniards who did not choose to write in their native tongue. He published his continuations and translations along with the original works.[317]

Among the various works which Cervantes de Salazar published and elucidated, is an allegorical romance, entitled “Labricio, or the fable (Apologo) of Idleness and Industry.” This romance may be placed if not among, at least beside didactic works, for the allegorical form serves merely to clothe the ideas, which are very methodically developed. The author, Luis Mexia, or Messia, was a learned theologian and jurist. His object was to draw an interesting and animated picture of the dangers of idleness, the pleasures of occupation, and the value of well directed industry. Notwithstanding the faults inseparable from the class of writing to which this work belongs, it presents the charm of an animated picture conveyed in language, which, though occasionally declamatory, is, upon the whole, pure and elegant.[318]

2. Historical Prose was, during this period, cultivated by no author in so high a degree as by Diego de Mendoza, whose history of the wars of Granada, has already been particularly mentioned; all the other Spanish historians were inferior to Mendoza in every thing that constitutes the historical art. But they had begun to study that art, in which they would no doubt have distinguished themselves, had they not on the one hand been intimidated by the despotism of the government, and on the other, influenced by a spirit of contradiction, which induced them to banish from genuine history every trace of imaginative colouring, lest they should be confounded with the romance writers of the age.

The historical institution, established by Alphonso the Wise, still subsisted; for the Spanish government was afraid to incur the shame of allowing it to perish. National historiographers or chroniclers were accordingly appointed, and paid in the same manner as formerly; but after the accession of Charles V. those chroniclers could not venture to write with freedom, even in favour of the court party. Charles V. thought it prudent to obliterate as far as possible the recollection of the powerful opposition he had experienced on his succession to the Spanish crown. His chronicler, Florian de Ocampo, was a man of talent and information; and these qualifications soon enabled him to perceive the necessity of protracting as much as possible the duty assigned to the old Spanish chroniclers of writing the history of their own age. Fortunately for him there existed at that period no ancient history of Spain; and this was a subject on which he could enter, without fear or constraint, while, at the same time, it afforded scope for a singular display of erudition. Ocampo accordingly wrote his five books of a General Chronicle of Spain. By the selection of this deceiving title, Ocampo appeared to be fulfilling the duties of his office; but the five books of his General Chronicle contain nothing more than the history of ancient Hispania, from the deluge to the second punic war.[319] The work is not badly written, though it presents nothing particularly attractive either in the style or in the handling of the subject. Ocampo selected his materials chiefly from the ancient authors, with whom he must have been intimately acquainted; but as far as relates to historical art he avoided imitating his classical models, because, as he says, he was afraid to substitute for truth “the rhetorical flourishes and vanities, which appear in other books of the present time.”[320] Like some German historians, he seems to have prided himself in his dulness.

Those truths which dared not be publicly told in the reign of Charles V. still remained secrets under the government of Philip II. But even the latter monarch did not suffer the office of national chronicler to be discontinued; and he nominated a particular historiographer for the provinces of Castile, and another for those of Arragon. The learned Ambrosio de Morales, who took so lively an interest in the advancement of the rhetorical art, was, as has already been mentioned, appointed chronicler for the Castilian provinces. But with all his talent and information, Morales was not the man precisely calculated to occupy this situation, had he wished strictly to discharge its duties. He had little taste for politics, and modern history was not the branch of literature in the cultivation of which he was likely to find the employment best suited to his talents. He therefore could do nothing which better accorded with his own inclination, and the circumstances in which he was placed, than to follow the footsteps of Ocampo, and to continue the ancient history of Spain from the second punic war to the establishment of christianity.[321] He vied with his predecessor in research and erudition; while, at the same time, he devoted far more attention to composition and style. In his preface, he states that he availed himself of this opportunity of proving the dignity and majesty of the Spanish language; and in that respect he rose far superior to the usual chronicle style. In point of elegance, however, he did not equal cardinal Bembo, while he really had no more idea than that author, of the soul of the historical art, of which elegance is merely an accessary.[322] Towards the close of his work, when he came to the christian ages, his zeal induced him to insert the lives of the saints of Spanish origin; and certainly no writer before his time ever gave to that description of biography so much elegance and historical dignity. Indeed the simplicity to which Morales was always faithful, is a remarkable feature in the works of an author who was so ambitious of distinguishing himself by his style.

There appeared, however, at this time, another author, who might have become, if not the Livy, at least the Machiavell of Spain, had he been placed in more favourable circumstances, and been disposed to devote himself to the rhetorical cultivation of his talent for historical composition. He was a native of Arragon, and his name was Geronymo Zurita, Surita or Curita, for it is written in these different ways. Philip II. appointed him historiographer of the Arragonian provinces, an office which he was well qualified to fill. Like all educated Arragonese, he wrote Castilian with as much facility as his mother tongue. As a politician, however, he entertained views respecting the practical application of history, which though clear and well founded, were not likely to be very acceptable to a despotic sovereign. Zurita undertook, not merely the tedious task of exploring the old chronicles and records, to which he had access, in order to produce a complete history of the kingdom of Arragon, from the Moorish invasion to the reign of Charles V. he was moreover desirous that his historical labour should exhibit a faithful view of the rise and formation of the national constitution of Arragon. The modern historian, who may wish to investigate this particular point, ought to resort to the pages of Zurita, for it will be difficult for him to find a more instructive author. Zurita gave to his historical work the title of Annals,[323] which he conceived to be more appropriate than that of chronicle. But he felt the difficulty of the task he had undertaken, when he attempted to develope the republican principles of the Arragonian provinces, and at the same time to do homage to the caprice of an absolute monarch. He must necessarily have written this part of his work in the total absence of inspiration, for the only practical conclusion he draws from his researches is the trite maxim, “that subjects ought to be content if peace and tranquillity prevail in the country in which they live;”[324] and it must be confessed that for peace and tranquillity, in a certain sense, Philip II. with the help of the Duke of Alba and the inquisition, had sufficiently provided. But in order to judge how Zurita would have written, had he been permitted to write freely, the grounds of the decision must be collected only from detached passages of his work. His execution indeed is not so inviting as to excite a strong desire for the perusal of the whole. He seems during his laborious researches unconsciously to have imbibed the formal style of the chroniclers, their constantly recurring and not excepted; while he did not allow himself time to separate the important from the unimportant, and by a judicious distribution of his materials to compose a pleasing historical picture. In a literary contest, which arose respecting the merits and defects of these Annals of Arragon, their value, in a rhetorical point of view, was never taken into consideration.

3. Oratorical Prose.—To other classes of prose writing, the Spaniards at this time devoted but little attention; but two printed discourses by Perez de Oliva well deserve to be more generally known. The one was delivered at the request of a society of patriotic citizens of Cordova, and it relates to the advantages to be derived from the navigation of the Guadalquivir. In the first part of this discourse, the learned orator certainly wanders far from his subject, for he speaks of the Greeks and Romans, and even of the Trojan war; but the second part contains a view of the business in hand, which is vigorously unfolded, full of sound sense, and divested of all affectation and pedantry. The second discourse promises but little, for it is merely described as an academic occasional and defensive address; but it contains a very good explanation of the literary duties of a professor of moral philosophy, together with some particulars respecting the literary life of the author, which are related in an excellent oratorical style.[325]

4. Of the Epistolary Prose of this age but few printed specimens exist; and it may be presumed that the Spaniards could not experience much pleasure in written correspondence, after their epistolary style had, like that of their social conversation, become subject to the restraint of the ceremonial forms with which the Italians and the Germans were about the same time infected. With whatever ease vuessa merced (your grace or your worship) especially when contracted in conversation into usté, might glide, as a mere form of courtesy through Spanish lips, its frequent occurrence could not fail to have a very embarrassing effect in the periods of familiar letters. This formula which every man of education employed in addressing his equals, exhibits a striking contrast to the higher ceremonial style, which the king himself observed in corresponding with his relatives. Among the Spanish epistolary documents of the sixteenth century, there has been preserved a letter from Philip II. to his natural brother, Don John of Austria. This letter appears to be a kind of supplement, written by the king himself, to the commission by which Don John was appointed high admiral of the Spanish fleets (capitan general de la mar). The king with old Spanish cordiality calls Don John, “brother,” (hermano), without any other title; and when he addresses him in the course of the letter, he uses the pronoun you, after the old fashion. In reminding his natural brother of his duties, he recommends to him integrity, as next in importance to religion.[326]

There is also preserved a letter from the Duke of Alba, of odious celebrity, to Don John of Austria. It contains military instructions expressed with precision and dignified simplicity; but the style is encumbered by the repetition of titles. Both letters are contained in a collection published by the diligent Gregorio Mayans y Siscar.[327]

SPANISH CRITICISM DURING THE PERIOD OF THIS SECTION.

It would scarcely be worth while to say any thing relative to Spanish criticism during the period this section embraces, were it not that among the books of instruction on poetry and rhetoric which then appeared, there was one, which besides being extraordinary for the age in which it was produced, may be regarded as the first of its kind in modern literature. It is entitled, the Philosophy of the Ancient Style of Poetry, which in Spanish is somewhat fantastically expressed, Philosophia Antigua Poetica. This work is the production of Alonzo Lopez Pinciano, physician to Charles V. who as has been mentioned, was likewise the author of an unsuccessful heroic poem.[328] Though Pinciano possessed few qualifications for a poet, he had nevertheless conceived the idea of writing an Art of Poetry, which should be something more than a mere introduction to versification and instructions relative to correct and figurative expression. Speculations on the elements of poetry constituted his chief occupation, when relieved from the duties of his profession. He had so carefully studied Aristotle’s Art of Poetry, and so attentively compared it with the other writings of the same author, that of all the admirers of that work, he was probably the first who discovered its imperfection. He says—“what is called Aristotle’s Art of Poetry cannot, if rightly understood, be regarded in any other light than as a fragment; for Aristotle, in various passages of his other works, refers to a second part of this Art of Poetry, which is lost.” Pinciano’s conjectures respecting the contents of the lost part, and its connection with the fragment now existing, have, it is true, been contradicted by more modern critics; but this physician was nevertheless the first to observe that imperfection which had escaped the notice of all previous philologists and commentators on Aristotle. He remarks, that the philologists and commentators have written very learned works; which, however, are as imperfect as the text which they elucidate. With the view of restoring poetry to its ancient dignity, and establishing and developing its true spirit, Lopez Pinciano commences with an Analysis of the Wants of Human Nature. He treats minutely of the senses, of the affections, the faculties of the soul, wisdom, and the pleasures peculiar to cultivated minds, but always with reference to the works of Aristotle, whom, like other writers of that age, he merely designates by the title of the philosopher. Like Aristotle, he makes imitation the essence of poetry; but with a particular and more precise definition of what in his opinion constitutes poetic imitation. He then enters upon reflections concerning poetic language, and gives a detailed theory of the several kinds of poetry. The present, however, is not the proper place to present an explanation of this theory. Whenever Lopez Pinciano abandons Aristotle, his notions respecting the different poetic styles are as confused as those of his contemporaries; and only a few of his notions and distinctions can be deemed of importance at the present day. But his name is deserving of honourable remembrance, for he was the first writer of modern times who endeavoured to establish a philosophic art of poetry; and with all his veneration for Aristotle, he was the first scholar who ventured to think for himself, and to go somewhat further than his master. He also evinced a laudable perseverance in the execution of his task. Pinciano’s learned and ingenious work was not quite so useful as it might have been, owing in a great measure to its artificial and formal manner of composition, which, however, the author considered singularly easy and natural. This Art of Poetry is written in the form of letters, (which was in itself a novelty at that age), and in these letters, conversations are occasionally introduced. The friend who answers, invariably gives an abstract of the letter he has last received, as a proof that he understands its contents and its object. Lopez Pinciano, however, cannot be regarded as a model in epistolary and conversational prose any more than in poetry.

The authors of the other arts of poetry which appeared about this time in the Spanish language, merely confined themselves to the explanation of metrical forms and the establishment of subordinate principles. Among these authors were Sanchez de Viena, Geronymo de Mondragon, and Juan Diaz.[329] An Art of Poetry of the same description in verse, by Juan de la Cueva, has already been mentioned. From a philosophic treatise of this kind, Spanish poetry could derive no advantage, unless its origin had been totally different from what it really was. Theories, even the most popular, can contribute only in a very slight degree to the formation of the poetic genius, either of nations or individuals.

Several works on the art of rhetoric, in which the principles of Aristotle were followed, appeared about this time in Spain; but they produced nothing valuable with respect to theory, and exercised no remarkable influence on the improvement of Spanish prose.

SECOND SECTION.
History of Spanish Poetry and Eloquence, from the Age of Cervantes and Lope de Vega to the Middle of the Seventeenth Century.

Spanish literature had now assumed a new character. Classical poets wrote in the Castilian language; and elegant prose was cultivated with equal rapidity and success on the model of the ancients. No great advantage could henceforth be derived from the imitation of the Italian poets, for the genius of the Spanish nation had well nigh decided how far and under what limitations the Italian poetry could be naturalized in Spain. But laurels were yet to be gathered on the new Parnassus; and the conflict between the ancient and modern styles, had, through the disputes of the different parties, who sought to rule the Spanish drama, at length arrived at a crisis. Under these circumstances, Cervantes and Lope de Vega entered upon the career which their predecessors had opened for them.

CERVANTES.

The life of this extraordinary man, whom, for the space of two centuries, civilized Europe has admired above every other Spanish writer, has been so frequently related, that a brief abstract of his biography, derived from the most authentic sources, will be sufficient for the purpose of this history.[330]

It is a singular fact, that the contemporaries of this celebrated man, whom every town, not merely in Spain, but throughout the world, would be proud to have produced, should have neglected to record his native place. After long investigations and warm disputes, which call to mind the contests of the seven Greek towns, for the honour of having given birth to Homer, it is at length agreed that the greatest share of probability belongs to the conjecture, according to which Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra was born at Alcalà de Henàres in the year 1547. His parents, who were not rich, were merely enabled to give him a moderate, but at the same time a literary education. They sent him to the schools of Madrid, where he acquired some knowledge of classical learning. At Madrid he had an opportunity of witnessing the dramas which the ingenious Lope de Rueda represented on his wretched stage. Juan Lopez, the tutor of Cervantes, was an indefatigable writer of poetry, particularly of romances, and he sought every means of cherishing his pupils’ taste for poetic composition. Some verses by Cervantes were introduced in a description of the funeral of a Spanish princess, which Lopez published in 1569.

But young Cervantes, who had now attained his twenty-second year, seems to have had no certain means of gaining a subsistence. He wrote numerous romances and sonnets; and it was probably about this period that he composed a pastoral romance, entitled Filena, which, if we may give credit to his own testimony, was very generally read.[331] It appears that he thought he could better his condition by travelling; and he resolved to proceed to Italy. Here commences the period of his adventures. In Rome, cardinal Acquaviva for a short time became his patron and protector. But impelled either by necessity or choice, he entered into the military profession. He enlisted under the banners of his sovereign, to serve in the wars against the Turks and African corsairs, who at that time disturbed the tranquillity of Spain and Italy. During the war he proved himself to be wholly devoted to his new profession; but being engaged in the great battle of Lepanto, in 1572, he received a wound which deprived him of his left hand together with a part of the arm. This honourable mutilation, to which he proudly alludes in his latter writings, obliged him to return to Spain. The ship, however, in which he had embarked, was captured by an Algerine corsair, and Cervantes was conveyed to Algiers and sold for a slave. His captivity which lasted for nearly eight years, must have been of the most romantic description, if the fact be, as has frequently been conjectured, that Cervantes described his own adventures in the novel of the Captive.[332] He was at length ransomed, and in the year 1581 he returned to his native country.

The third period of the life of Cervantes was exclusively devoted to literature. He had now attained his thirty-second year, and with a matured understanding, joined to considerable practical knowledge of the world, and an ardent passion for literature, he resolved to withdraw from the busy scene of life. In his retirement he wrote his second pastoral romance, entitled Galatea, which has so eclipsed Filena, that the latter is quite neglected and forgotten. He shortly afterwards married, and in all probability lived for some time on his wife’s dowry. At length he began to write for the stage; but the dramas which he composed at this period of his life, though about thirty in number, are nearly all lost.[333]—About this time arose the rivalry between Cervantes and Lope de Vega, whose dramas were so much admired that they bore away the palm of public favour. Mortified, as it would appear, by the ill success of his dramatic efforts, Cervantes laid aside his pen for a considerable period. It is conjectured, that in the meanwhile he obtained a post in Seville, the emoluments of which enabled him to subsist. He did not again appear in the literary world until the death of Philip II. in the year 1598.

It can scarcely be doubted, though no Spanish writer has made the conjecture, that the death of Philip II. had a favourable influence on the genius of Cervantes. After the accession of the indolent Philip III. every man in Spain felt that he might then have more freedom than he dared to take during the gloomy intolerance of the preceding reign. The Spaniards now ventured to sport with the chains which they had not the power to break, and delicate satire was soon freely employed. Cervantes quickly found a subject for ridicule, in an outrageous contest which arose in Seville between the spiritual and municipal authorities, concerning the funeral obsequies of the deceased monarch. There is reason to believe that he composed, about the same period, some of the Instructive Novels (Novelas Exemplares), which he subsequently published. What accident gave rise to the idea of his Don Quixote is unknown; for his having, while travelling through the province of la Mancha, become engaged in disputes with some of the inhabitants, and his being on that account for a short time imprisoned, can at most be only supposed to have suggested the idea of making that province the scene of the first part of his romance. Some fortunate circumstance, which cannot now be traced, seems to have impressed Cervantes, who was then in his fiftieth year, with the consciousness of the true bent of his genius. The commencement of Don Quixote was first published at Madrid, in 1606; but the enthusiastic reception which this original romance experienced from the Spanish public, produced very little change in the author’s fortune; for the folly which felt itself disturbed in its security united with envy in seeking to discover the most offensive allusions in the work. Cervantes accordingly continued poor, and had now to contend with exasperated enemies, who imagined they had completely defeated him, when an unknown writer of their own party, under the name of Avellaneda, published a continuation of Don Quixote, full of invective against the original author. Precisely at the period when this continuation appeared, Cervantes published the sequel of his Instructive Novels, which he dedicated to the Count of Lemos. In that nobleman he found a protector who never withdrew his favour, and who, as it appears, afforded him support in various ways. Pecuniary necessity seems, however, to have urged him, as a last resource, to write for the stage.

The latest works of Cervantes, were the genuine continuation and completion of Don Quixote, the Journey to Parnassus, which was first published in 1614, and finally the romance of Persiles and Sigismunda, for which, a few days previous to his death, he wrote a dedication to the Count of Lemos. From various passages in the prefaces and introductions to these last works, it is obvious how highly Cervantes prized that celebrity which, after many abortive efforts, he had at length obtained in his old age. But even where his vanity is not disguised, it is easy, from the candid tone in which he speaks of himself, to recognize the man of firm and upright spirit, the declared enemy of every sort of affectation, and the honest and liberal judge of himself and others. He died in poverty, though not in extreme want, at Madrid, in 1616, in the sixty-ninth year of his age. He was buried privately, without any kind of distinction, and not even a common tomb-stone marks the spot where the ashes of Cervantes repose.

Were we to arrange the works of Cervantes according to their merits, the first place must be assigned to Don Quixote, which is moreover entitled to the supremacy, inasmuch as it is single in its kind.

To enter into a description of the contents of this universally known master-piece, or to give a circumstantial analysis of its plan, would be equally superfluous. A few words, however, on the happy and original idea which forms the foundation of the whole work may here be introduced. It has often been said, though the opinion has, perhaps, not been fully weighed, nor even expressed with sufficient precision, that the venerable knight of La Mancha is the immortal representative of all men of exalted imagination, who carry the noblest enthusiasm to a pitch of folly; because with understandings in other respects sound, they are unable to resist the fascinating power of a self-deception, by which they are induced to regard themselves as beings of a superior order. None but an experienced observer of mankind, endowed with profound judgment, and a genius to the penetrating glance of which one of the most interesting recesses of the human heart had been newly disclosed, could have seized the idea of such a romance with energetic decision. None but a poet and a man of wit could have thrown so much poetic interest into the execution of that idea; and none but an author who had at his disposal all the richness and variety of one of the finest languages in the world, could have diffused over such a work that classical perfection of expression, which gives the stamp of excellence to the whole. The originality of the idea of Don Quixote is not only historically demonstrated, by no romance of a similar kind having previously existed—for pictures of ingenious roguery in the style of Lazarillo de Tormes, belong to a totally different species of comic romance—but it is also physiologically certain, that a creative fancy, which was only capable of continuing to invent where another had stopt, could not, with the boldness of Cervantes, have combined traits, apparently heterogeneous, in order thereby to exhaust to the utmost the idea by which he was inspired. Those who are acquainted with Don Quixote only through the medium of the common translations, will not certainly be inclined to regard it as a work of inspiration, in the highest sense of the word. But it is impossible to form a more mistaken notion of this work, than to consider it merely as a satire, intended by the author to ridicule the absurd passion for reading old romances of chivalry. Doubtless this is one of the objects which Cervantes had in view; for among the romances which the Spanish public indefatigably perused, few were tolerable, and only one or two possessed first-rate merit. We must not, however, attribute to him the absurd conceit of wishing to prove the prejudicial influence, which the reading of bad romances produced on the taste of the Spanish nation, by exhibiting the individual folly of an enthusiast, who would have been just as likely to have lost his senses by the study of Plato or Aristotle, as by the reading of romances of chivalry. The merit and the richness of the idea of a man of elevated character, excited by heroic and enthusiastic feelings to the extravagant pitch of wishing to restore the age of chivalry, must be regarded as the seed of inspiration whence the whole work originated. As a poet, Cervantes was aware of the resources which this idea furnished; and he must also have been satisfied with his power to prosecute it, as he has proved in the execution what he was capable of accomplishing. In the invention of a series of comic situations in the most burlesque style, he found full scope for the exercise of his fancy. The painting of these situations afforded opportunities for the free and energetic developement of his poetic talent. Finally, he knew how to combine the knowledge of human nature, which he had acquired during a life of fifty years, with the most delicate satire, so as to render his comic romance also a book of moral instruction, to which no parallel existed. These brief remarks on the idea which forms the foundation of the romance of Don Quixote, must be allowed to supply the place of a detailed analysis of the manner in which that celebrated work is composed. Other critics have sufficiently proved that the composition is by no means faultless. In the preface to the second part, Cervantes has himself pointed out some inadvertences which produce incongruities in the history, but he disdained to correct them, because he conceived that they had been too severely condemned.

The character of the execution of this comic romance, is no less original than the invention. Character in the strictest sense of the term is here meant. The superficial sketches of a sportive fancy, for which the Spaniards in the age of Cervantes entertained so high a predilection, had not sufficient interest for him. He felt a passion for the vivid painting of character, as all his successful works prove. Under the influence of this feeling, he not only drew the natural and striking portrait of his heroic Don Quixote, so truly noble-minded, and so enthusiastic an admirer of every thing good and great, yet having all those fine qualities, accidentally blended with a relative kind of madness; but he likewise pourtrayed, with no less fidelity, the opposite character of Sancho Panza, a compound of grossness and simplicity, whose low selfishness leads him to place blind confidence in all the extravagant hopes and promises of his master. The subordinate characters of the great picture exhibit equal truth and decision: but the characteristic tone of the whole is still more remarkable. A translator cannot commit a more serious injury to Don Quixote, than to dress that work in a light anecdotical style. A style perfectly unostentatious and free from affectation, but at the same time solemn, and penetrated, as it were, with the character of the hero, diffuses over this comic romance an imposing air, which, were it not so appropriate, would seem to belong exclusively to serious works, and which is certainly difficult to be seized in a translation. But it is precisely this solemnity of language, which imparts a characteristic relief to the comic scenes. It is the genuine style of the old romances of chivalry, improved and applied in a totally original way; and only where the dialogue style occurs is each person found to speak, as he might be expected to do, and in his own peculiar manner. But wherever Don Quixote himself harangues, the language re-assumes the venerable tone of the romance style;[334] and various uncommon expressions of which the hero avails himself, serve to complete the delusion of his covetous squire, to whom they are only half intelligible.[335] This characteristic tone diffuses over the whole a poetic colouring, which distinguishes Don Quixote from all comic romances in the ordinary style; and that poetic colouring is moreover heightened by the judicious choice of episodes. The essential connection of these episodes with the whole has sometimes escaped the observation of critics, who have regarded, as merely parenthetical, those parts in which Cervantes has most decidedly manifested the poetic spirit of his work. The novel of El Curioso Impertinente, cannot indeed be ranked among the number of these essential episodes; but the charming story of the shepherdess Marcella, the history of Dorothea, and the history of the rich Camacho and the poor Basilio, are unquestionably connected with the interest of the whole. These serious romantic parts, which are not, it is true, essential to the historical connection, but strictly belong to the characteristic dignity of the whole picture, also prove how far Cervantes was from the idea usually attributed to him of writing a book merely to excite laughter. The passages which common readers feel inclined to pass over, are, in general, precisely those in which Cervantes has shewn himself more a poet, and for which he has manifested an evident predilection. On such occasions he also introduces among his prose, episodical verses, which are for the most part excellent in their kind, and which no translator can omit without doing violence to the spirit of the original.

Were it not for the happy art with which Cervantes has contrived to preserve an intermediate tone between pure poetry and prose, Don Quixote would not deserve to be cited as the first classic model of the modern romance or novel. It is, however, fully entitled to that distinction. Cervantes was the first writer who formed the genuine romance of modern times on the model of the original chivalrous romance, that equivocal creation of the genius and the barbarous taste of the middle ages. The result has proved that modern taste, however readily it may in other respects conform to the rules of the antique, nevertheless requires in the narration of fictitious events, a certain union of poetry with prose which was unknown to the Greeks and Romans in their best literary ages. It was only necessary to seize on the right tone, but that was a point of delicacy which the inventors of romances of chivalry were not able to comprehend. Diego de Mendoza, in his Lazarillo de Tormes, departed too far from poetry. Cervantes, in his Don Quixote, restored to the poetic art the place it was entitled to hold in this class of writing: and he must not be blamed if cultivated nations have subsequently mistaken the true spirit of his work, because their own novelists had led them to regard common prose as the style peculiarly suited to romance composition. Don Quixote is moreover the undoubted prototype of the comic novel. The humorous situations are, it is true, almost all burlesque, which was certainly not necessary, but the satire is frequently so delicate, that it escapes rather than obtrudes on unpractised attention; as for example in the whole picture of the administration of Sancho Panza in his imaginary island. Besides, the language even in the description of the most burlesque situations, never degenerates into vulgarity. Throughout the whole work it is in general noble, correct, and so highly polished, that it would not disgrace even an ancient classic of the first rank.[336] This explanation of a part of the merits of a work, which has been so often wrongly judged, may, perhaps, seem to belong rather to the eulogist than the calm and impartial historian. Let those who may be inclined to form this opinion, study Don Quixote in the original language, and study it rightly, for it is not a book to be judged by a superficial perusal. But care must be taken that the intervention of many subordinate traits, which were intended to have only a transient national interest, does not produce an error in the estimate of the whole.

It would be scarcely possible to arrange the other works of Cervantes according to a critical judgment of their importance; for the merits of some consist in the admirable finish of the whole, while others exhibit the impress of genius in the invention, or some other individual feature. A distinguished place must, however, be assigned to the Novelas Exemplares (Moral or Instructive Tales.) They are unequal in merit as well as in character. Cervantes, doubtless, intended that they should be to the Spaniards nearly what the novels of Boccacio were to the Italians: some are mere anecdotes, some are romances in miniature, some are serious, some comic, and all are written in a light, smooth, conversational style. With regard to the practical knowledge which these novels are intended to convey to the reader, Cervantes has effected more than Boccacio; and at all events he extended the literature of his country by their publication, for no similar compositions had previously existed in the Spanish language. In them Cervantes has again proved himself the experienced judge of mankind, and has given, with admirable success, truly genuine and judicious representations of nature, in the various situations of real life. The reader must naturally feel inclined to pardon the want of plan which this little collection of novels occasionally exhibits, when he finds that the author through the medium of his characters relates and describes all that he had himself seen and experienced under similar circumstances, particularly during his abode in Italy and Africa. The history of the Licenciado Vidriera, (the Glass Licentiate) which is the fifth in the collection, is totally destitute of plan, and is related in simple prose like a common anecdote. But the novel of La Gitanilla, (the Gipsey Girl) is ingeniously conceived and poetically coloured; and the same may be said of some others. The story of Rinconete y Cortadilla, or the Lurker and the Cutter, as the names with reference to their etymology may be translated,[337] is a comic romance in miniature.

Galatea, the pastoral romance which Cervantes wrote in his youth, is a happy imitation of the Diana of Montemayor, but exhibiting a still closer resemblance to Gil Polo’s continuation of that poem.[338] Next to Don Quixote and the Novelas Exemplares, this pastoral romance is particularly worthy of attention, as it manifests in a striking way the poetic direction in which the genius of Cervantes moved even at an early period of life, and from which he never entirely departed in his subsequent writings. As, however, the Galatea possesses but little originality, it constantly excites the recollection of its models, and particularly of the Diana of Gil Polo. Of the invention of the fable likewise, but little can be said, for though the story is continued through six books, it is still incomplete. In composing this pastoral romance, Cervantes seems to have had no other object than to clothe in the popular garb of a tale, a rich collection of poems in the old Spanish and Italian styles, which he could not have presented to the public under a more agreeable form. The story is merely the thread which holds the beautiful garland together; for the poems are the portion of the work most particularly deserving attention. They are as numerous as they are various: and should the title of Cervantes to rank, with respect to verse as well as to prose, among the most eminent poets, or his originality in versified composition, be called in question, an attentive perusal of the romance of Galatea must banish every doubt on these points. It was remarked by the contemporaries of Cervantes that he was incapable of writing poetry, and that he could compose only beautiful prose; but that observation had reference solely to his dramatic works. Every critic, sufficiently acquainted with his lyrical compositions, has rendered justice to their merits. From the romance of Galatea it is obvious that Cervantes composed in all the various kinds of syllabic measure which were used in his time. He even occasionally adopted the old dactylic stanza.[339] He appears to have experienced some difficulty in the metrical form of the sonnet, and his essays in that style are by no means numerous;[340] but his poems in Italian octaves display the utmost facility; and among the number, the song of Calliope in the last book of the Galatea is remarkable for the graceful ease of the versification.[341] In the same manner as Gil Polo in his Diana makes the river Turia pronounce the praises of the celebrated Valencians, the poetic fancy of Cervantes summoned the muse Calliope before the shepherds and shepherdesses, to render solemn homage to those contemporaries whom he esteemed worthy of distinction as poets. But the critic can scarcely venture to place reliance on praises which are dealt out with such profuse liberality. The most beautiful poems in the Galatea are a few in the cancion style, some of which are in iambics,[342] and some in trochaic or old Spanish verse.[343] Cervantes has here and there indulged in those antiquated and fantastic plays of wit, which at a subsequent period he himself ridiculed.[344] The prose of the Galatea, which is in other respects so beautiful, is also occasionally overloaded with a sort of epithetical ostentation.[345]

Cervantes displays a totally different kind of poetic talent in the Viage al Parnaso, (Journey to Parnassus) a work which cannot properly be ranked in any particular class of literary composition, but which, next to Don Quixote, is the most exquisite production of its extraordinary author. The chief object of the poem is to satirize the false pretenders to the honours of the Spanish Parnassus, who lived in the age of the author. But this satire is of a peculiar character: it is a most happy effusion of sportive humour, and it yet remains a matter of doubt whether Cervantes intended to praise or to ridicule the individuals whom he points out as being particularly worthy of the favour of Apollo. He himself says—“Those whose names do not appear in this list, may be just as well pleased as those who are mentioned in it.” To characterize true poetry according to his own poetic feelings; to manifest in a decided way his enthusiasm for the art even in his old age; and to hold up a mirror for the conviction of those who were only capable of making rhymes and inventing extravagances, seem to have been the objects which Cervantes had principally in view when he composed this satirical poem. Concealed satire, open jesting, and ardent enthusiasm for the beautiful, are the boldly combined elements of this noble work. It is divided into eight chapters, and the versification is in tercets. The composition is half comic and half serious. After many humorous incidents, Mercury appears to Cervantes, who is represented as travelling to Parnassus in the most miserable condition; and the god salutes him with the title of the “Adam of poets.”[346] Mercury after addressing to him many flattering compliments, conducts him to a ship entirely built of different kinds of verse, and which is intended to convey a cargo of Spanish poets to the kingdom of Apollo. The description of the ship is an admirable comic allegory.[347] Mercury shews him a list of the poets with whom Apollo wishes to become acquainted; and this list, owing to the problematic nature of its half ironical and half serious praises, has proved a stumbling block to commentators. In the midst of the reading Cervantes suddenly drops the list. The poets are now described as crowding on board the ship in numbers as countless as drops of rain in a shower, or grains of sand on the sea coast; and such a tumult ensues, that to save the ship from sinking by their pressure, the sirens raise a furious storm. The flights of imagination become more wild as the story advances. The storm subsides, and is succeeded by a shower of poets, that is to say, poets fall from the clouds. One of the first who descends on the ship is Lope de Vega, on whom Cervantes seizes this opportunity of pronouncing a pompous eulogium. The remainder of the poem, a complete analysis of which would occupy too much space, proceeds in the same spirit. One of the most beautiful pieces of verse ever written by Cervantes, is his description of the goddess Poesy, whom he sees in all her glory in the kingdom of Apollo.[348] To this fine picture the portrait of the goddess Vain-Glory, who afterwards appears to the author in a dream, forms an excellent companion.[349] Among the passages which for burlesque humour vie with Don Quixote is the description of a second storm, in which Neptune vainly endeavours to plunge the poetasters to the bottom of the deep. Venus prevents them from sinking, by changing them into empty gourds and leather bottles.[350] At length a formal battle is fought between the real poets and some of the poetasters. The poem is throughout interspersed with singularly witty and beautiful ideas; and only a very few passages can be charged with feebleness or langour. It has never been equalled, far less surpassed by any similar work, and it had no prototype. The language is classical throughout; and it is only to be regretted, that Cervantes has added to the poem a comic supplement in prose, in which he indulges a little too freely in self-praise.

The dramatic compositions of Cervantes, were they all extant, would be the most voluminous, though, certainly, not the best portion of his works. Perhaps those which are now lost may yet be recovered; for a fortunate accident brought to light two dramas, which had remained concealed in manuscript till near the end of the eighteenth century.[351] Cervantes includes some of his dramas among those productions with which he was himself most satisfied; and he seems to have regarded them with the greater self-complacency in proportion as they experienced the neglect of the public.[352] This conduct has sometimes been attributed to a spirit of contradiction, and sometimes to vanity. The editor of the eight plays (chiefly heroic) and eight interludes, which were the last dramatic productions of Cervantes, has adopted the absurd notion, that Cervantes in writing these pieces, intended to parody and ridicule the style of Lope de Vega;[353] which is merely saying that he attacked the whole literary public of Spain in the most discourteous way. No traces of parody appear in any of those dramas. They are, however, with the exception of a few successful scenes, so dull and tedious, that one might be inclined to regard them as counterfeit productions by another author, were it not that their authenticity seems to be sufficiently proved. The little interludes alone exhibit burlesque humour and dramatic spirit. That the penetrating and profound Cervantes should have so mistaken the limits of his dramatic talent, would not be sufficiently accounted for even by his vanity, had he not unquestionably proved by his tragedy of Numantia how pardonable was the self-deception of which he could not divest himself. Cervantes was entitled to consider himself endowed with a genius for dramatic poetry. But he could not preserve his independence in the conflict he had to maintain with the conditions required by the Spanish public in dramatic composition; and when he sacrificed his independence, and submitted to rules imposed by others, his invention and language were reduced to the level of a poet of inferior talent. The intrigues, adventures, and surprises which in that age characterized the Spanish drama, were ill suited to the genius of Cervantes. His natural style was too profound and precise to be reconciled to fantastical ideas, expressed in irregular verse. But he was Spaniard enough to be gratified with dramas, which, as a poet, he could not imitate; and he imagined himself capable of imitating them, because he would have shone in another species of dramatic composition, had the public taste accommodated itself to his genius.

With all its imperfections and faults, Cervantes’s tragedy of Numantia is a noble production, and, like Don Quixote, it is unparalleled in the class of literature to which it belongs. It proves that under different circumstances the author of Don Quixote might have been the Æschylus of Spain. The conception is in the style of the boldest pathos, and the execution, at least taken as a whole, is vigorous and dignified. The ancient Roman History from which Cervantes selected the story of the destruction of Numantia, afforded but few positive facts of which he could avail himself in his heroic tragedy. He therefore invented along with the subject of his piece a peculiar style of tragic composition, in doing which he did not pay much regard to the theory of Aristotle. His object was to produce a piece full of tragic situations, combined with the charm of the marvellous. The tragedy is written in conformity with no rules save those which Cervantes prescribed to himself; for he felt no inclination to imitate the Greek forms. The play is divided into four acts (jornadas), and no chorus is introduced. The dialogue is sometimes in tercets, and sometimes in redondillas, and for the most part in octaves, without any regard to rule. The diction does not maintain equal dignity throughout; but it is in no instance affected or bombastic. Cervantes has evinced admirable skill in gradually heightening the tragic interest to the close of the piece. The commencement is, however, somewhat cold and tedious. Scipio appears with his generals in the Roman camp before Numantia. In a speech which might have been improved by abridgment, he reprimands his troops, whose spirit has begun to give way to effeminacy. The soldiers are re-inspired with courage. Numantian ambassadors enter with proposals for peace, which are rejected. It is here that the tragedy properly begins. Spain appears as an allegorical character, and she summons the river Duero, or Durius, on whose banks Numantia stands. The old river god appears, attended by a retinue of the deities of the smaller rivers of the surrounding country. These ideal characters consult the book of fate, and discover that Numantia cannot be saved. Whatever may be said against the bold idea of endeavouring to augment the tragic pathos by means of allegorical characters, it must be acknowledged that in this case the result of the experiment is not altogether unsuccessful, and Cervantes justly prides himself in the novelty of the idea. The scene is now transferred to Numantia. The senate is assembled to deliberate on the affairs of the city, and among the members the character of Theagenes shines with conspicuous lustre. Bold resolutions are adopted by the senate. The transition into light redondillas, for the purpose of interweaving with the serious business of the fable, the loves of a young Numantian named Morandro, and his mistress, is certainly a fault in the composition of the tragedy. But to this fault we are indebted for some of the finest scenes in the following act. A solemn sacrifice is prepared; but amidst the ceremony an evil spirit appears, seizes the victim, and extinguishes the fire. The confusion in the town increases. A dead man is resuscitated by magic, and the scene in which this incident occurs has a most imposing effect.[354] All hope has now vanished. After the return of a second unsuccessful embassy, the Numantians, by the advice of Theagenes, resolve to burn all their valuable property, then to put their wives and children to death, and lastly to throw themselves in the flames, lest any of the inhabitants of the town should become the slaves of the Romans. Scenes of the most heart-rending domestic misery, and the noblest traits of patriotism then ensue.[355] Famine rages in Numantia.[356] Morandro, accompanied by one of his friends, ventures to enter the Roman camp. He returns with a piece of bread smeared with blood, and, presenting it to his famished mistress, falls at her feet mortally wounded.[357] The action proceeds with unabated interest to the end. An allegorical character of Fame enters at the close of the piece, and announces the future glory of Spain.

Allegorical characters, for instance, Necessity and Opportunity, likewise appear in Cervantes’s comedy, El Trato de Argel (Life in Algiers, or Manners in Algiers). But their introduction amidst scenes of common life injures the story, which is besides by no means ingenious, and imparts a cold and whimsical character to the piece. This comedy, however, which is divided into five acts, is not destitute of interest and spirit.