PART II. (continued 2)

IX. MANUEL BRETON DE LOS HERREROS.

In the country of Lope de Vega and Calderon de la Barca, it was not to be supposed, that on the general revival of the national literature, the drama could be left neglected, in a state unworthy of its ancient reputation. From the time of those great writers until the present, notwithstanding the predilection of the Spanish people for the stage, and the encouragement consequently given for genius to exert itself, no dramas had been produced to equal them in the public admiration. The younger Moratin, who may be justly termed the Spanish Molière, had rather introduced into Spain a new style of drama, that which we call genteel comedy, than followed the track of the ancient masters. It was reserved for a later writer, the subject of this notice, to appear as a rival to them in the exuberance of composition, and possession of popular favour, though it may be a question for future ages to decide on his relative merit.

Breton de los Herreros was born at Quel, a small village in the province of Logronio, the 19th December, 1796. Of his early history, we are only informed that he was educated at the school of San Antonio Abad at Madrid, and that he entered a regiment of infantry as a volunteer, when yet a boy of fourteen. The world at large may be considered to be, with regard to contemporary characters of another nation, in the relation of posterity, making distance have, as Bishop Atterbury remarked to Lord Bolingbroke, the effect of time; and they will thus inquire eagerly into the particulars of the life of one distinguished for genius, however humble his birth, while they will pass heedlessly by the noblest born personage, who has given them no peculiar right of interest in his history. But, as on reading the life of the Duke de Rivas, we feel it a subject of congratulation, that the lance of a French marauder did not cut off one who was destined to be the ornament of his country’s literature, so we rejoice again equally that the chance passed away favourably, when a stray ball might have deprived the world of the works of Breton de los Herreros. Serving in his humble line, he was present at various skirmishes with the invaders on their final expulsion from Valencia and Catalonia, at the same time composing patriotic songs on the national triumphs. In 1812, when yet a boy of fifteen, he wrote an Ode to the Constitution, and distinguished himself as an orator among his comrades on the popular subjects of discussion. On the return of Ferdinand VII. to absolute power, he must have been compelled to restrain his tendencies for liberalism, and it may be supposed that his time was at least as well employed in noting the characters of those around him, and the scenes he had to witness, as a storehouse of useful observations for his future writings.

In 1822 he obtained his discharge from the army, and after various attempts made to obtain an eligible employment in the provinces, he went to Madrid, in the summer of 1824, for the same purpose. There again he was equally unsuccessful, and as a last resource, took to the director of the theatre, a comedy which he had written some years previously for pastime. Fortunately for him, the director happened to be in want of a new piece to bring out on the king’s birthday, and thinking the one presented would answer his purpose, he undertook its production with more than usual care, on account of the occasion. It was accordingly performed on the 24th October, 1824, and met with such decided success, that the literary fame of the author was at once secured.

The profits accruing from the representation of his comedies were exceedingly trifling; but his natural inclinations led him to writing for the stage, where he now found himself respected as a successful writer; and as he had no other resource for maintenance, he applied himself to this labour with better hopes. A succession of pieces he wrote were equally successful, produced with a rapidity that reminded the world of the fertility that had characterized the genius of Lope de Vega or Calderon. One of his pieces was so much relished, that at the close, the audience insisted on its being repeated all over a second time, with which extraordinary demand the actors had to comply. In 1831 he brought out his comedy of ‘Marcela, or Which of the Three?’—the most popular of all his productions, the subject being, which of three lovers, all unworthy of her, the heroine, who is amiability personified, should accept. It was repeated at all the theatres in the kingdom, and went through six editions on publication, besides several surreptitious ones, having some of the verses even passing into “household words,” as popular expressions.

In the same year, 1831, he published a small volume of poems, containing lyrical and miscellaneous pieces, and has since written many more of the same character in the different periodicals of Madrid. None of these are, however, deserving of note, except the satirical ones, many of which abound with the wit and humour for which his comedies are remarkable. He is now engaged in publishing at Madrid a collection of all his works, the last volume being intended to contain the miscellaneous poems, which, corrected and collected together from the different papers in which they at first appeared, will no doubt prove to be more worthy of his fame than those published in 1831. In the lyrical poems he is avowedly a follower of the so-called classical school, and rises no higher than those of the same class that had preceded him; their utmost praise being to be characterized as—

In the satirical pieces, however, he seems in his proper element, playing on words and treating his rhymes with a command of language truly surprising. For this reason, and on account of the numerous local and national allusions contained in them, it is very difficult for a foreigner fully to understand, and almost impossible to be able to translate them. Those pieces attempted in this work may perhaps give some faint image of his style; but they have been chosen as most easy for translation, rather than as the best. Of the Satires published separately after the volume above mentioned, the most applauded have been those entitled, ‘Against the Philharmonic Rage;’ ‘Against the Mania for Writing for the Public;’ ‘Against the Abuses introduced into Theatrical Declamation;’ ‘Moral Epistle on the Manners of the Age;’ and ‘The Rage for Travelling.’ With the Spaniards of the present day as with their Roman ancestors, satire is a favourite species of composition, and it has been observed, that a manual of the history of the national dissensions might be composed out of the works of this popular author alone.

Breton, independently of his original writings, has had the editorship of one of the periodicals of Madrid, and occasional engagements connected with others. He also had at one time an appointment in one of the offices of the government, which he seems to have lost in 1840, on his writing some satirical effusion on the change that had then taken place. Literature has been in every age a grievous exaction, for those who had to follow it as a profession, except under peculiar circumstances. He had only his genius to befriend him, and apparently had not even the virtue of prudence for a counsellor. Thus he has had often to submit to circumstances, which though harassing at the time, he had the wisdom to make subjects of merriment afterwards, to the gain of his literary reputation.

In Spain there can scarcely yet be said to be formed a “reading public,” notwithstanding the great number of good works that have been lately published, to supply the demand whenever it shall arise. The most evident and flattering of all the applauses that a literary man can there receive, are those awarded to dramatic successes, and of these, he has had the reward that was certainly due to him. In such a climate as that of Spain, and with such a people, theatrical amusements are more a matter of popular necessity than they are in a colder climate, with people of more domestic requirements; and yet even in England it may be a cause of surprise, considering the honour given to the author of a successful play, that more works of genius have not been produced for the stage. In both countries there is a complaint of the public requiring “novelties;” but the fact is, that in seeking novelties, they are only seeking excellence. When any really good work is presented them, they know how to appreciate it, and in seeking for others even of the same author, they are only expressing their sense of his merits.

In the prospectus of the proposed new edition of his works, he had the satisfaction of stating he had to republish more than sixty original dramas, that had met with a successful reception from the audiences of Madrid. He has besides these produced several that have not been successful, and has translated from the French a great number of others. These have been principally tragedies, and he has adapted them for the Spanish stage, rather than translated them, showing a talent, it has been observed by Del Rio, in so doing equivalent to making them to be counted in the number of his original works. Del Rio cites as a particular example, the translation from Delavigne’s Tragedy of ‘The Sons of Edward.’ Breton’s talent is evidently pre-eminent for comedy; but he has written several tragedies also, of which one, the ‘Merope,’ brought forward in 1835, was received with much favour.

This work, as it has been more than once already intimated, is intended mainly to give an account of the lyrical poetry of Spain as nourishing at present; and, therefore, it would be entering on subjects foreign to our purpose, to inquire at large into the merits of any specific dramatic performances. The Spanish drama may, no doubt, be worthy of especial study, but I confess that I have not felt it deserving of the extravagant praises which some writers have bestowed on it. It would surely be much happier for the people of every country to seek their greatest enjoyments in those of a domestic nature, rather than in those miscellaneous congregations where the quieter virtues can have little exercise. But as human nature is constituted, and public amusements cannot be avoided, it is the duty of every friend of the popular interests to support their being given on the foundation of good taste and moral principles. Though Breton’s works do not appear free from all blame in this respect, and though sometimes his witticisms may be observed scarcely fitting even for the stage, yet they show, on the whole, compared with the dramatic productions of other countries, at least equal refinement, as they certainly do more inventive talent than we can point out elsewhere in our age.

Larra, the most discriminating critic of Spain, has observed of Breton, “that in nothing does his peculiar poetical talent shine more than in the simplicity of his plans. In all his comedies it is known that he makes a study and show of forming a plot extremely simple,—little or no action, little or no artifice. This is conceded to talent only, and to superior talent. A comedy, full of incidents, which any one invents, is easy to be passed off on a public always captivated by what interests and excites curiosity. Breton despises these trivial resources, and sustains and carries to a happy conclusion, amid the continual laughter of the audience, and from applause to applause, a comedy based principally on the depicting of some comic characters, in the liveliness and quickness of repartee, in the pureness, flow and harmony of his easy versification. In these gifts he has no rival, though he may have them in regard to intention, profoundness or philosophy.”

Ferrer del Rio says of him, “that he has cultivated a style so much his own, that at the first few verses of one of his works, the spectators cry out his name from all parts. Originality is thus one of the qualities that recommend him. He tyrannizes over the public, obliging them to cast away ill-humour, and laugh against their will from the time the curtain rises till the representation ends, and this the same whether in the comedies they applaud, or those they disapprove. He is consequently mirthful and witty in the extreme, and no one can dispute the palm with him under this consideration. None of his scenes fatigue from weariness; none of his verses fail of fullness and harmony; they do not appear made one after another, but at one blow, and as by enchantment. Thus all hail him as a perfect versifier and easy colloquist. Infinite are the matters he has introduced in his comedies, multiplied the characters sketched by his pen, innumerable the situations imagined, and undoubtedly there is due to him the well-founded ascription of a fertile genius. Originality, wit, easy dialogue, sonorous versification, an inexhaustible vein, would not be sufficient to form a good comic writer of manners without the criterion of observation, fit for filling up his pictures with exactness. This criterion also he possesses in a high degree.”

High as is this encomium, the writer says of him further, that if it were decreed by Providence that a new race of barbarians should overrun Spain, destroying libraries and other depositaries of human knowledge, yet the name of Breton de los Herreros would survive the disaster, and some vestige of his comedies would remain. “Histories, books of learning, works of legislation, science, philosophy and politics are, no doubt, more profound than his comedies, though from their peculiar nature not so popular. Thus what we have said is to be understood as a means of distinguishing between writings which, that they may not perish in the course of ages, require studious men to adopt them for a test, and learned men to illustrate them by their commentaries, and those compositions that, to succeed in obtaining the honours of immortality, require only a people to recite and transmit them verbally from father to son. The name of Breton may become traditional in Spain, that of other celebrated writers will belong to history.”

Breton has been elected a member of the Royal Spanish Academy, and certainly one so highly gifted as he is in his department, is well deserving of every literary honour. The times are gone by when a writer of comedies could be all in all with the public as their favourite author; but probably there is no other existing in Spain who enjoys so much popular regard. As such, notwithstanding the inferior merit of his lyrical and miscellaneous poetry, excepting his satirical writings, it would have been a blameworthy omission to have left his name out of the list of the modern poets of Spain. It was, however, for this reason more advisable to make the selections from those satirical writings; though independently of this consideration, it would have been also desirable, in a work attempting to give a general view of modern Spanish poetry, that so essential and popular a branch of it should not be left unnoticed.

For the poems under this head, Breton has only given the general term “Satirical Letrillias,” so that with those translated his numbering only could be adopted for reference. The Letrillia, it may be proper to observe, is what our musical writers call Motetts or small pieces, having generally some well-known proverbial saying for the close of each verse.

MANUEL BRETON DE LOS HERREROS.

SATIRICAL LETRILLIAS.—III.

SATIRICAL LETRILLIAS.—IV.

SATIRICAL LETRILLIAS.—VII.

X. JOSÈ MARIA HEREDIA.

The people of Cuba have good cause to be proud of a poet born in their island, whose genius seems always to have found its highest inspiration in expatiating on the charms of the place of his birth.

Heredia was born the 31st December, 1803, at Santiago de Cuba, in which city his family had taken refuge when driven away by the revolution from the island of Santo Domingo, where they had been previously settled. His father, whose profession was that of the law, was shortly afterwards appointed a Judge in Mexico, where he accordingly went with his family, taking his son there for his education under his special superintendence. This duty he had the privilege allowed him to accomplish, when he died in 1820, leaving a reputation for ability and uprightness so eminent as to prove highly advantageous to his son in his subsequent necessities. On his father’s death, Heredia returned with his mother and three sisters to Cuba, where he had an uncle and other relations residing, and there he engaged in a course of study for the profession of the law, at the termination of which he was, in 1823, admitted an Advocate in the Supreme Court of the island. From his earliest years he had always shown himself possessed of a very studious disposition, and some of his poems seem to have been written when only eighteen years of age.

In the pursuit of the profession he had adopted, with his talent and energy, Heredia might have hoped soon to acquire a very honourable position; but unfortunately for his future comfort in life, he had imbibed too strongly the principles then prevailing to consider the domination of Spain as an evil which ought to be removed. It is stated, that there was a conspiracy even then formed to declare the independence of the island, in which he was implicated; and that on his being denounced to the government in consequence, he was obliged to fly from the island. Proceedings under this charge were notwithstanding instituted against him, under which he was formally declared banished. He thereupon went, in November 1823, to New York, where he passed the following three years, appearing, from the accounts that reached his friends, to have lived there during that time in great privations. These, and the variableness of the climate, operating severely on his constitution, as a native of the tropics, were no doubt the causes of his becoming a victim to that fatal disease which terminated his existence a few years afterwards.

In New York he acquired soon an accurate knowledge of the English language, which enabled him also to become familiarly acquainted with English literature. Of this he showed no inconsiderable tokens, in a volume of poems which he published there in 1825, having included among them several translations from the English, though he has not acknowledged them generally as such. He continued the same neglect in the edition of his works published subsequently in Mexico in 1832, which was a much superior edition to the former, being more than doubled in regard to its contents, and having the poems formerly published now much corrected and improved.

Not finding his residence in New York offering him any hopes of advancement in life, and despairing of being able to return to his family in Cuba, he determined to go thence to Mexico and seek the assistance of his father’s friends in that city. He accordingly went there in 1826, and had scarcely arrived when he was at once appointed to a situation in the office of the Secretary of State. From this minor post he was soon afterwards promoted to discharge various important offices in the provinces, and finally to be named one of the Judges of the Supreme Court of Mexico and a Senator of the Republic. It was while holding one of those appointments as a local judge at Toluca that he published there the second edition of his works just mentioned.

After the death of Ferdinand VII., in 1833, the Regent, Queen Christina, wisely accorded a general amnesty to all expatriated Spaniards, when Heredia, notwithstanding the favourable position he held in Mexico, where also he had married in 1827, wished to take advantage of it to return to his family. On making application, however, for permission to do so, he was refused it by the Captain-General of Cuba, and all he could obtain was permission to go there for two months to visit his aged mother and other relatives, subject to the observation of the police. He went there accordingly in 1836, when, by a singular coincidence, he joined his family again on the same day of the month that thirteen years before he had parted from them.

On his arrival in Cuba, he was subjected to some of those petty annoyances which military governments too often impose on people under their sway. A friend of his who had gone to meet him, found him, notwithstanding his rank in the Mexican republic, or his reputation as a literary character, or his evident state of ill-health, seated on a bench in the court of the government office, to wait his turn at the pleasure of the official, who thought he was showing his dignity by exposing to unnecessary delay those whom he had to note under his inspection. Heredia was so altered that his friend could scarcely recognize him, and his relatives soon had to become apprehensive that his health was seriously endangered. He had given the most solemn assurance to the authorities that he would not in any way during his visit interfere in the public questions of the day, and he fulfilled his promise. If he really had entered in his youth into any plot against the government, the most dangerous conspirator in it could scarcely have been a young man of nineteen, who seems to have been the principal sufferer. But in any case, he had by time and reflection become very altered in sentiment, and his failing strength would not admit of any extraordinary exertion, even if he had remained the same enthusiast for political liberty as he was in his youth. He would have wished to stay the remainder of his life with his family, but it was his duty to return to Mexico after the expiration of the period allowed him, and there he died of consumption on his return, the 6th May, 1839. After his death, his widow and her children came to Cuba, where she died the 16th June, 1844, leaving a son and two daughters in the kindly charge of his relatives.

The Toluca edition of Heredia’s poems in two volumes, 1832, does great credit to the Mexican press, being one of the best printed Spanish works to be found. But it is extremely scarce, and therefore deserves a more detailed account of it than might be requisite with works better known. In addition to those contained in the first edition, which is yet comparatively frequently to be met with, it contains his philosophic and patriotic poems, some of which are very spirited, and one, the ‘Hymn of the Banished,’ an extremely fine one. The copies of the work sent to Havana had these patriotic poems taken out, as otherwise they would have been seized by the authorities; so that most of the copies of the work existing are deficient with regard to them. In the place of the odes thus taken out, another poem, ‘On Immortality,’ was inserted, which, however, is principally taken from the Seventh Book of Young’s Night Thoughts, though not so stated. The other principal poems, in respect of length, are, ‘On the Worth of Women,’ and ‘the Pleasures of Melancholy.’ Of another very fine ode, ‘To Niagara,’ a very excellent translation into English blank verse has appeared in the United States Review.

In the preface to the second edition, he states that he had been induced to undertake it, upon finding that several of the poems in the first had been reprinted in Paris, London, Hamburg and Philadelphia, and had been received with much favour in his own country, where the celebrated Lista had pronounced him “a great poet.” There can be no doubt that other editions would have met with very favourable reception, had it not been for the circumstance of his being considered an author obnoxious to the Spanish government. As it is, the Creoles of Cuba have manuscript copies of his poems circulating amongst themselves, generally faulty as dependent on the taste of the individuals who had copied them. The effect of this is apparent in the only edition I am aware of, that has been published in Spain, that of Barcelona, in 1840, acknowledged to be taken from a manuscript copy, in which not only are some of his best compositions omitted, such as the ‘Lines to his Horse,’ and the poem entitled, ‘The Season of the Northers,’ but some others, for instance, the ‘Ode to the Sun,’ are given imperfectly. In return, it gives a poem on receiving the portrait of his mother, which had not appeared in the former editions, and which is not unworthy of being compared with Cowper’s on the same subject, though treated differently.

In the prologue to this edition the editor observes, that “in all his productions is seen an excellency of heart and an imagination truly poetical, enabling us to assert with Lista that he is a great poet, and one of the best of our day.” He adds, “the poems of Heredia have, in our judgement, the merit of a purity of language, which unfortunately begins to be unknown in Spain. They are of a kind equally apart from the monotony and servileness, ascribed perhaps with reason to the classicists, and from the extravagant aberration of those who affect to be called Romanticists, and believe they are so, because they despise all rules in their compositions, substituting words and phrases unknown to our better writers and poets.”

The language of Heredia in his poems is by the concurrent opinion of all Spanish critics very pure, and even strangers can feel its simplicity and nature in connexion with the truly poetical thoughts they contain, free from all conceits or affectations. In his best original compositions, the sentiments expressed are generally of a tender and melancholy character, as might be expected from his history, of one banished from his country and family, while suffering from privations and ill-health, and at length sinking under a fatal disease. Like many other poets, he thus also writes most affectingly when dwelling on his own personal feelings, as if to verify the declaration of Shelley, that

The ‘Lines to his Horse’ and ‘The Season of the Northers’ bear intrinsic evidence of their origin, and also the Ode entitled ‘Poesy.’ This one bears a strong resemblance in its general tone to the ‘Epistle to His Brother’ and the poem of ‘Sleep and Poetry’ by Keats, whose character and fate also were in some degree the same as his. They have the same sentiment, as conscious of fame awaiting them, common to all poets, but peculiarly to those of more sensitive temperament, the ‘non omnis moriar,’ the hope of immortality,—

If the extravagant eulogiums bestowed on the merit of the Sonnet, as a form of verse, by some Italian writers, and echoed by Boileau and others, be at all deserved, Heredia’s claims to superiority may be put forward very confidently, in respect of that to ‘His Wife’ in dedication of the second edition of his works. It contains all the conditions required for a perfect composition of this kind, in the poetical statement of the subject, the application of it, the beautiful simile given as a counterpart, and the strikingly appropriate idea with which it closes. Of this idea, the classical reader will at once perceive the elegance and force; but he cannot do so fully, unless he have also seen in the churches of seaport towns on the continent, as for instance, that of Santa Maria del Socorro, at Cadiz, the votive offerings of gratitude for deliverances from danger.

The ‘Ode to Night’ might have been considered worthy of equally unqualified commendation, were it not for the circumstance that twelve out of the nineteen stanzas it contains are almost a paraphrase from the Italian of Ippolito Pindemonte. At the time of making the translation hereafter given, I had not read that very pleasing writer, but have since found the source of the poem in his ‘Poesie Campestri, Le quattro parti del giorno,’ to which, therefore, justice requires the acknowledgement to be given. It is much to be regretted that Heredia did not distinguish his original compositions in all cases from imitations, as there is no statement with regard to this one, of its having been taken from another author. There are other instances of the same neglect, as in a close translation from Campbell of ‘The Ode to the Rainbow,’ equally unacknowledged. The interests of literature require that such acknowledgements should be uniformly made, that we should know gold from imitations, and give every one his right and place. As the same Italian poet remarked in his ‘Opinioni Politiche,’

Heredia’s original poems, many of them written to, or respecting his near relatives or other friends, betoken so much true poetic feeling, as well as flow of poetical ideas, that we cannot suppose the neglect of which we have complained to have been more than an oversight. He might even in some cases have lost remembrance of his obligations, and repeated from memory when he thought he was writing from inspiration. The latter part of his first volume is entirely taken up with “Imitations;” but those we have noticed above are in the second volume, without any distinction from the original poems.

He had, however, in early life so many privations to endure, and so many daily necessities for which to make a daily provision, that we may not be surprised at his inexactness in minor matters. In the preface to the second edition, he says, that “the revolutionary whirlwind had made him traverse over a vast course in a short time, and that with better or worse fortune he had been an advocate, a soldier, a traveller, a teacher of languages, a diplomatist, a journalist, a judge, a writer of history, and a poet at twenty-five years of age. All my writings,” he observes, “must partake of the variableness of my lot. The new generation will enjoy serener days, and those who then dedicate themselves to the Muses will be much more happy.” On his first going to Mexico, it is to be supposed that he had to enter on military duties in the unsettled state of the country, and that he had some diplomatic commissions entrusted to him by the government, of which, however, we have no other account. This, in fact, may be said to be the first biographical notice of him published, obtained from information given by his relatives, who, having been long separated from him, could not explain the particular references more fully.

As a writer of history, he had published, also in Mexico, a work in four volumes, 8vo. which was chiefly a compilation from Tytler, but with additions in Spanish and Mexican history, suited to the community, for whose benefit it was intended. In this respect, as in so many other parts of his career, the knowledge he had acquired of the English language was of essential assistance to him, while it was no less evident that his knowledge of English literature had improved his taste and strengthened his powers of mind also in his own compositions.

In private life Heredia appears to have been a most amiable character: courteous, generous, and possessed of the most lively sensibility, he made himself beloved by all who had to enter into communication with him. He was also remarkable for the exceeding great ingenuousness of his disposition, which, while it rendered him incapable of vanity in himself, made him at the same time as incapable of dwelling on the faults of others. Several of his poems show further a religious feeling, which no doubt enabled him to bear with becoming equanimity the various trials to which he had been subjected.

Those trials it seemed were appointed to attend him further, even if it had pleased the Almighty to prolong his existence. Shortly before his death, the Mexican legislature passed a law declaring that no one should hold any office under the republic who was not a natural born citizen; and thus he was, among others, deprived of the offices he had held with credit to himself and advantage to the state. If the measure were directed against him personally, it was of short operation, and political intrigues could not avail to deprive him of the consciousness of having fulfilled his duties honourably, or of the claim he had to leave on the remembrance of future ages.

JOSÈ MARIA HEREDIA.

SONNET. DEDICATION OF THE SECOND EDITION OF HIS POEMS, TO HIS WIFE.

TO HIS HORSE.

THE SEASON OF THE NORTHERS.

POESY, AN ODE.

ODE TO NIGHT.

XI. JOSÈ DE ESPRONCEDA.

In the introductory part of this work, while acknowledging the merits of the earlier poets of Spain, it may be remembered that a claim was made in favour of the still superior excellences of their successors in the present day. If the reader, who has followed us so far through these notices, has not already come to the same conclusion, his assent may be confidently expected to the assertion, in consideration of the surpassingly poetical genius of the two writers who have now to come under his review.

In considering the merits of their earlier poets, the best critics of Spain have not been so blinded by national partiality as to be led into awarding them unqualified commendations. In the very able prologue to the ‘Moro Esposito’ of the Duke de Rivas, said to have been written by the celebrated Alcalà Galiano, we find an estimation of them which we can adopt, as correct in judgement as it is unexceptionable for an authority. He says, “Though the tenderness of Garcilasso, the warmth of Herrera, the fancy, at once lively and thoughtful, of Rioja, and, above all, those strong feelings of devotion which give to Fray Luis de Leon a character so original, even when he is most an imitator, are sources of great perfections, and most glorious crowns of the Spanish Parnassus, yet we are obliged to confess, that in the Spanish poets, lyric and pastoral, we see too great a sameness, that their stock of ideas and images is limited and common to them all, and that if varied and choice in expression, they are uniform in their arguments and plans, founding their merit more in the gala and pomp of language, in the floridness and sonorousness of verse, and in the ingenious dexterity of making variations on one theme, than in the vigour and originality of their thoughts, or in the strength and profoundness of the emotions which they felt, or which their works excite in the minds of their readers.”

Entirely coinciding in the opinions thus expressed, we feel, on the other hand, with regard to the modern Spanish poets, that while they have fully maintained the grace and beauty that distinguished their predecessors in former ages, their genius has expanded over far wider fields, and embraced subjects of as varied and powerful interest as the contemporary poetry of any other country can present to delight or captivate. As instances in support of this opinion, we have, in particular, to refer to the comparatively few but exceedingly brilliant compositions of Espronceda, whose early loss, at only thirty-two years of age, the whole literary world has to deplore.

We have great cause to be thankful to Ferrer del Rio that we have any account at all of this very eminent lyric poet, though the one he has given is far from being so full as the admirers of his genius might have desired. From that account, we learn that it was in the spring of 1810, during the most momentous period of the war of independence, a colonel of cavalry, after some long and harassing marches, was obliged to halt at the small town of Almendralejo, in the province of Estremadura, in the face of the enemy, on account of his wife, who had followed him through the campaigns, having there had a son born, the subject of this narrative. We have no other particulars of his earlier years, than that on the conclusion of the war his parents settled at Madrid, where he was placed at an early age under the tuition of Lista, a writer who enjoyed considerable reputation at the time as a poet, but whose chief merit consisted in his critical and elementary works. Under such a preceptor, his natural genius found a congenial course of tuition, and verse-making seems to have been a part of his usual studies. It was remarked, that though he was by no means inclined to steady application, yet, that by the force of his quick comprehension, he shone as prominently as others of greater industry, and when a mere boy produced verses which gave tokens of future eminence.

When only fourteen years of age he joined a society of youths who called themselves Numantines, and was elected one of their tribunes. In their meetings, no doubt, there was much intended treason debated, for which, whether deservedly or not, the government of the day thought proper to proceed against them at law, and Espronceda, with others, was sentenced to three months’ imprisonment in the convent of Guadalajera, in which town his father then resided. There, in the solitude of his imprisonment, his active mind found employment in poetry, and he was bold enough to begin an epic poem on the subject of the national hero, Pelayo. Of this poem there are fragments given among his works, from which we may judge favourably of what it might have proved when completed, containing as it does many striking passages. The representation of Hunger, and the Dream of the King, Don Roderic, are bold conceptions, and if they were not the additions of after-years, were truly remarkable as the productions of any one at so early an age.

On his release from the convent he returned to Madrid, but feeling himself under restraint as subject to the observation of the police, and desirous also of visiting other countries, he shortly afterwards went to Gibraltar and thence to Lisbon. There he seems to have been subjected to great privations, which, however, did not prevent his being involved in romantic adventures, characteristic of one of his temperament, such as he subsequently described with all the warmth of poetic feeling. But the ministers of the king, now restored to absolute power by French intervention, could not allow Spanish emigrants to be congregated so near to Spain, and at their instance Espronceda and others were obliged to go from Lisbon to London. How he maintained himself, during these wanderings, we are not informed, but his relatives probably had the means to afford him sufficient for his pressing necessities, and the love of adventure would lead him, oftentimes willingly, into situations from which most others would have recoiled.

In London, we are informed, that he enjoyed the happiest period of his life, though not abounding in resources; passing his time between his studies and gaieties, which resulted in confirmed dissipation. He learned to read Shakespeare and Milton, as well as Byron, and considering his inclinations, his habits and his writings, we need not be surprised to find him supposed to have taken the last for his model. There he began the series of compositions which place him in the first rank of lyric poets, though we have to lament that they are tinctured with a spirit of such evil character. His ‘Elegy to Spain,’ dated London, 1829, is in the original written with peculiar sweetness of expression, which Del Rio finds in the style of the Prophet of the Lamentations, and which, though not so well suited for translation as most of his other poems, has been chosen as the effusion of the patriotic muse of Spain, no less worthy of note than others of more general application.

From London he passed over to Paris, and happening to be there during the three memorable days of July 1830, he took part in the fearful scenes which then took place with all the ardour of his character as well as of youth. He joined afterwards the small band of emigrants who crossed the Pyrenees in the hopeless attempt of subverting the despotic sway that then prevailed, resulting in the death of Don Joaquin de Pablo, whom his friends regarded as falling heroically, and to whose memory Espronceda has left a poem of great beauty. Returning to Paris, he entered himself in the rank of the bold spirits who volunteered to lend their aid in the regeneration of Poland, from which, and other similar schemes, he was rescued by the promulgation of the first amnesty, of which he took advantage immediately to return to Spain.

On his arrival in Madrid, he entered himself in the Royal Guard, where he soon won the goodwill and affections of his officers and comrades, and might have risen to distinction, but for an unfortunate though characteristic occurrence. He had written some verses on passing events connected with the service, which were recited at a banquet, and having been much applauded and passed from hand to hand, came to the knowledge of the ministry, who thereupon, notwithstanding the efforts of his colonel to the contrary, dismissed Espronceda from the corps, and banished him to the town of Cuellar. There he composed a work, which he called a novel, under the title of the ‘Sancho of Saldania,’ but which, though containing some good sketches and descriptions, is only worthy of notice as having been one of his compositions.

“On the dawning of liberty in Spain with the promulgation of the Estatuto,” by Martinez de la Rosa, he came forward as a journalist, connected with the paper published as ‘The Age.’ His proud spirit could not submit to the censorship previously existing, but even now he had to feel its influence. The fourteenth number of his paper, the most violent of the time, was found to contain some articles which were forbidden by the censor, and as the time pressed, the editors did not know how to supply the deficiency. The ready genius of Espronceda suggested a scheme, which, after a little hesitation, was adopted: this was to publish the sheet in blank, with merely the headings, which had not been struck out of the manuscript by the censor. Accordingly, the usual sheet appeared with the titles only of the subjects it had originally to bear, namely—“The Amnesty;” “Domestic Policy;” “Letter from Don Miguel and Don Manuel Bravedeed in defence of their honour and patriotism;” “On the Cortes;” “Song on the Death of Don Joaquin de Pablo.” The effect was startling, and perhaps more powerful than the forbidden articles would have proved. The people supplied the deficiencies according to their individual feelings, and the ingenuity of the device had its fullest success. As the result, the publication of the paper was forbidden, and the managers had to hide themselves for a time to escape further prosecution.

In the years 1835 and 1836, there were several serious commotions in Madrid in which he joined, erecting barricades in the principal square, and making violent harangues to the people. On both occasions the disturbances were soon put down by the military, and he had to hide himself in the provinces, until, in the year 1840, Espartero having put himself at the head of the liberal party, the public principles prevailed for which Espronceda had so exerted himself. He then came forth again from his retirement, and made himself conspicuous by appearing as an advocate in a case in which a paper named the ‘Hurricane’ had been denounced at law for a seditious article it contained. Espronceda’s speech in defence, from some passages of it given by Del Rio, appears to have been very energetic, and as inflammatory as the article accused, but he was successful, and the proprietor of the paper was acquitted.

In the same year, 1840, he published the volume of poems on which his fame rests, as perhaps the first lyric poet that Spain has produced. Most of the contents had been previously given in the periodical publications of Madrid, but it was a great service to literature to have them collected. They contained the fragment of the epic poem, ‘Pelayo,’ and a short dramatic piece, entitled, ‘The Student of Salamanca,’ in which his own character is supposed to have been depicted; as well as the lyric odes and other poems. They are comparatively few in number, not exceeding fifteen altogether, but of such rare excellence as to make us regret that so gifted a writer was to be so soon cut off, depriving the literary world of the hopes of still further excellence they gave reason to expect. In the following year, 1841, he published his poem, ‘The Devil World, El Diablo Mundo,’ in four cantos, to which three others were afterwards added, found among his papers after his death. His friends had long feared that he was not destined to attain a prolonged period of life, but their fears were unhappily realized much sooner than they had imagined.

In December 1841, Espronceda was sent to the Hague as Secretary of Legation, but the coldness of the climate affecting too severely his enfeebled constitution, he was obliged, almost immediately, to return to Spain. He had meanwhile been elected Deputy to the Cortes for Almeria, and he attempted to take accordingly his share of public duties. But his health and strength had been undermined by the life of hazard, of privations and excesses he had undergone, and the journey to the Hague in the depth of winter seemed to give the final shock to his frame, from which it could not recover. On the 23rd of May, 1842, his friends and admirers were thrown into unexpected grief by hearing that he had died that morning, after what was termed a four days’ illness. The immediate cause was said to have been some disorder affecting the throat, and his sufferings have been described by an intimate friend and schoolfellow, who was with him at the time, as very painful. The loss to Spain and the whole literary world was as great as it was irreparable; and so the people seemed to feel it, by the general expression of regret over his fate, such as it seldom falls to the lot of any one to excite.

The moralist might dilate on the evil courses which probably hastened his death, and all must lament that a man of such extraordinary genius should have sunk under them; but before we judge any one severely, we should be certain of being able to form a right judgement. The utmost remark, therefore, we permit ourselves to make, may be to consider his history as a lesson to all under similar circumstances of life, that if they will not take heed to a moral in others, they may become a warning themselves. Every man’s character may be taken as a whole, in which his good and evil qualities are often so blended together as to make them inseparable. The excesses of youth are often “the flash and outbreak of a fiery mind,” which shows itself in its true characters in other respects, though often with the alloy of lower passions to lead them to a fatal end. Thus Byron and Espronceda, two kindred geniuses in our days, have sunk prematurely into the grave, most unhappily, when new fields of glory seemed to be opened before them to retrieve the past errors of life, and make it in future as honourable as they had already rendered it renowned.

The genius of Espronceda was kindred to Byron’s, of whom he has been accused of having been an imitator. But this seems to me unquestionably a mistake. During his residence in England he had certainly acquired a good knowledge of the English language and literature, much to his advantage; but he could scarcely have acquired such a knowledge of either as to put him in the position of an imitator. The utmost that can be alleged of him in this respect is, that the style of Byron’s writing was so congenial to his own taste and talent, as to make him imbibe it intuitively, and so obtain a more decided character for his own than perhaps it would have otherwise attained.

It is certain that Spanish poetry never before presented such depth of thought and feeling, and such fulness and vigour of expression, as he gave to it; and it is apparent, in every page of his works, that he had studied in a higher school and become imbued with a brighter inspiration than he could have done on the Continent. But what ordinary imitators would have considered the characteristics of Byron as models to follow, he had the good sense entirely to discard. He has none of the egotism and affectation which distinguish that school; and if he indulged in some of its propensities, it is clear that they were the natural results of the circumstances in which he was placed, and not the wilful perversions of misdirected abilities. His poem to Harifa is written with an earnestness of feeling that must be felt, even through the haze of translation, giving tokens of its origin too distinct to admit any supposition of its being a suggestion from any other source than his own experience of life. Neither in this poem nor in any other of his works is there any of those mysterious suggestions of dark histories, or of those morbid denunciations of imaginary wrongs which abound in the productions of the Byronian school. His complaints are the evident effusions of a mind maddened at finding itself in a state unworthy of its powers, and thus, instead of venting his rage on others, he turned it against his own misdeeds, in giving way to excesses that he scorned, and which he felt degraded him. But even in his aspirations for higher thoughts, he had the same leaven of earth to keep him from attaining them. He had not learned the lessons which Jovellanos inculcated in the Epistle to Bermudez, to seek wisdom where only it ought to be sought; as he might have done even from the heathen poet, that the hidden things of God could not be found out, though he were to traverse over all space in search of them.

In somewhat of the same strain with these lines is the second canto of his poem, the ‘Diablo Mundo,’ addressed to Theresa, which, however, has no connexion with the rest of the poem to which it is attached. The verses ‘To a Star,’ contain also poetical thoughts no less exquisite, though perhaps not of so decided a character; and they are all valuable at least in this, that instead of gilding over vices and follies, they show the confession of one so highly gifted by nature, that the indulgences of sensual gratifications are in reality only sources of unhappiness.

Two other of his poems, ‘The Mendicant’ and ‘The Executioner,’ are no less distinguishable for the power of thought and expression they display; but they also unfortunately indicate such objectionable tendencies, as to make us regret that his extraordinary talents had not been directed to nobler subjects. Not so the two poems selected for translation, ‘The Song of the Pirate,’ and that of the ‘Criminal Condemned to Die,’ in addition to those previously mentioned. Of these, the latter is one of such peculiarly energetic character, as to need no comment. The other is one of the most favourite poems known in Spain, and having been set to music, is therefore heard repeated more frequently. It has been said to have been taken from the French, but I believe erroneously. It bears strongly the impress of Espronceda’s genius; and if the poem intended be either of those by Floran or Victor Hugo, any one who will take the trouble of comparing them will observe that they are essentially different, as each also is from the song of Lord Byron’s ‘Corsair.’

At the first view of it, the ‘Diablo Mundo’ appears to be an imitation of ‘Don Juan;’ but it would be as unjust to declare it so, as to say the latter had been copied from the various Italian poems written in the same style. Espronceda might have had the idea suggested by reading Lord Byron’s poem, or Goëthe’s ‘Faust,’ or both, but he has carried it much higher, and given the outlines of a nobler conception than either. He begins by supposing that, absorbed in meditation, during the silence of the night, he hears an extraordinary noise, which calls back his feelings and arouses them. That confused noise, with sublime music and solemn sound, are all the passions of the world, all the interests found in life,—the affections and hatreds, love, glory, wealth, the vices and the virtues; they are, in fine, the complaint of the whole universe that comes like a revolving whirlwind, and displays before the fancy a thousand allegorical monsters, traced with inimitable facility and astonishing vigour.

The visions pass away, the noise goes gradually off, losing itself in the distance, until it ceases, where begins the introduction of the poem. The first canto is the exposition of the great drama proposed to be developed.

A man bowed down with age and embittered by sorrowful and useless experience, shuts in despair a book he was reading, and mournfully convinced of the barrenness of learning, falls asleep. Death then presents itself, and intones a hymn inviting him to the peace of the grave. With pleasure he feels his benumbed limbs growing stiff with cold, and is enjoying himself in the enervation of his spirit, when Immortality suddenly rises up before him and sings another hymn in opposition to that of Death, and like that also offering herself to the man about to die.

The election is immediate; he chooses Immortality, and is re-endowed with youth. The song of this deity, however, does not lead to the immortality of the spirit, but of the material part of man, and it is that he receives. The image of death is invested with melancholy beauty; it is soft and gentle; that which is desired when, free from prejudices, we feel the heart worn and the soul discontented. The immortality that rises over the pale front of death, effaces it with a magnificent lustre. “It is impossible,” says Ros de Olano, who has written the prologue to this beautiful poem, “to approach, by any words of ours whatever, to the luxuriousness of thought, of expression, and of knowledge displayed in this sublime description, the most happy perhaps yet presented in the Spanish language.” Grand, extended and immense is the field which the poet has displayed to trace out a course for his hero, and the variety of tones he employs are like the face of the world, over which he has to range. As the character is developed, the hero, with the body of a man and the soul of a child, is placed in situations equally original and interesting, and the whole scheme is one which gave full scope to the writer for an unlimited work, even if he had been permitted to live to the utmost period of human existence.

Del Rio states, that Espronceda was in his public discourses an ineffective speaker, and ascribes it to the physical weakness of his frame; he describes him as having been distinguished for sarcasms, and only at intervals powerful in declamation. “In conversation he made an affectation of laughing at the restraints and virtues which are necessary for the order of society, and yet in private life no one was more remarkable for kindness and generosity. When the cholera was raging in Madrid, he was one of the most active in disregarding its attacks, and in attending to the wants of those near him who were suffering from it.” “All who knew him loved him, and even to his faults he knew how to give a certain impression of greatness.” Del Rio proceeds to describe him as having been graceful in his bearing, endowed with manly beauty, and his countenance marked with a melancholy cast that rendered it more interesting. He concludes by observing, that notwithstanding the years that have passed since his friends had to lament his loss, a garland of everlastings never fails to be found renewed over his grave.

In 1848 Baudry published another edition of Espronceda’s works, at Paris, but, with the exception of the fifth and sixth cantos of the ‘Diablo Mundo,’ there is no additional poem given, though Del Rio points out six other pieces published in different periodicals. This omission is much to be regretted, as undoubtedly every line that proceeded from his pen was worthy of being gathered together as a rare treasure. It is to be hoped that some admirer of his genius may soon collect those scattered relics, and give them in an edition worthy of their character in Spanish literature. Another Life of him also would be most desirable, as in the Paris edition there is only repeated the account given by Ferrer del Rio, which, though ably written as a sketch, is still on the same scale with a number of other writers in the same work of far inferior merits, and utterly unworthy of so great a genius as Espronceda. Spanish versification under his influence has become “revolutionized.” He has extended the powers apparently even of the language itself, and by the force of his style as well as by the varied character of his poems, has certainly shown its capabilities more decidedly than any poet who preceded him.

JOSÈ DE ESPRONCEDA.

TO SPAIN, AN ELEGY. LONDON, 1829.

THE CONDEMNED TO DIE.

THE SONG OF THE PIRATE.

TO HARIFA, IN AN ORGY.

XII. JOSÈ ZORRILLA.

It has been said that “the life of a poet is ever a romance.” Perhaps this observation may apply equally well to the history of every man of ardent genius who enters with characteristic enthusiasm into the affairs of life, so as to invest even ordinary circumstances with the glow and hue of his own excited imagination. But this is more especially the case with poets who make us participate in their feelings, their joys or their sorrows, so as to give a character of romance to incidents that with other persons would have passed away as unnoticed. In the course of the preceding narratives, no doubt, many instances may be remembered to verify this remark, and the life of the eminent and deservedly popular poet with which we have to close the series, even in his yet youthful career, may be found to afford a further exemplification of it.

On the 14th February, 1837, a funeral car, over which was placed a crown of laurel, had to traverse the streets of Madrid, bearing to their resting-place in the cemetery, the remains of the talented but wrong-minded Larra. The car was followed by an immense concourse of mourners, principally young men of the first classes of Madrid, who were so testifying their regret for the loss they had sustained. The whole scene presented a spectacle of homage paid to genius, such as had seldom been witnessed. It was such as power might have envied, and as worth scarcely ever attained. Melancholy as had been the end of the unhappy being they mourned, envy and hatred had become silenced, morality and charity joined in regret, and no one disputed the propriety of the funeral honours paid to the dead.

It was already late when the ceremonies were concluded, and the darkening shadows of the night, in such a place and on such an occasion, gave the countenances of all assembled an extraordinary character. The shock they had felt, to lose so suddenly from among them one so well-known to them all, in the fulness of youth and intellect, in the height of fame and popularity, without any apparent motive and enveloped in mystery, was of itself sufficient to penetrate their minds with sorrow. They felt that a bright light had been extinguished, and they feared there was no hope of another arising to shine in its place. A strange spell seemed to have come over the bystanders, and they lingered round the vault with an unaccountable disinclination to separate.