History of Spanish Literature (vol. 1 of 3)

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HISTORY OF SPANISH LITERATURE.

VOL. I.

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HISTORY OF SPANISH LITERATURE.

BY

GEORGE TICKNOR.

IN THREE VOLUMES. VOLUME I.

NEW YORK:

HARPER AND BROTHERS, 82 CLIFF STREET

M DCCC XLIX.

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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849, by George Ticknor, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

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PREFACE.

In the year eighteen hundred and eighteen I travelled through a large part of Spain, and spent several months in Madrid. My object was to increase a very imperfect knowledge of the language and literature of the country, and to purchase Spanish books, always so rare in the great book-marts of the rest of Europe. In some respects, the time of my visit was favorable to the purposes for which I made it; in others, it was not. Such books as I wanted were then, it is true, less valued in Spain than they are now, but it was chiefly because the country was in a depressed and unnatural state; and, if its men of letters were more than commonly at leisure to gratify the curiosity of a stranger, their number had been materially diminished by political persecution, and intercourse with them was difficult because they had so little connection with each other, and were so much shut out from the world around them.

It was, in fact, one of the darkest periods of the reign of Ferdinand the Seventh, when the desponding seemed to think that the eclipse was not only total,[p. vi] but “beyond all hope of day.” The absolute power of the monarch had been as yet nowhere publicly questioned; and his government, which had revived the Inquisition and was not wanting in its spirit, had, from the first, silenced the press, and, wherever its influence extended, now threatened the extinction of all generous culture. Hardly four years had elapsed since the old order of things had been restored at Madrid, and already most of the leading men of letters, whose home was naturally in the capital, were in prison or in exile. Melendez Valdes, the first Spanish poet of the age, had just died in misery on the unfriendly soil of France. Quintana, in many respects the heir to his honors, was confined in the fortress of Pamplona. Martinez de la Rosa, who has since been one of the leaders of the nation as well as of its literature, was shut up in Peñon on the

coast of Barbary. Moratin was languishing in Paris, while his comedies were applauded to the very echo by his enemies at home. The Duke de Rivas, who, like the old nobles of the proudest days of the monarchy, has distinguished himself alike in arms, in letters, and in the civil government and foreign diplomacy of his country, was living retired on the estates of his great house in Andalusia. Others of less mark and note shared a fate as rigorous; and, if Clemencin, Navarrete, and Marina were permitted still to linger in the capital from which their friends had been driven, their footsteps were watched and their lives were unquiet.

[p. vii]Among the men of letters whom I earliest knew in Madrid was Don José Antonio Conde, a retired, gentle, modest scholar, rarely occupied with events of a later date than the times of the Spanish Arabs, whose history he afterwards illustrated. But, far as his character and studies removed him from political turbulence, he had already tasted the bitterness of a political exile; and now, in the honorable poverty to which he had been reduced, he not unwillingly consented to pass several hours of each day with me, and direct my studies in the literature of his country. In this I was very fortunate. We read together the early Castilian poetry, of which he knew more than he did of the most recent, and to which his thoughts and tastes were much nearer akin. He assisted me, too, in collecting the books I needed;—never an easy task where bookselling, in the sense elsewhere given to the word, was unknown, and where the Inquisition and the confessional had often made what was most desirable most rare. But Don José knew the lurking-places where such books and their owners were to

be sought; and to him I am indebted for the foundation of a collection in Spanish literature, which, without help like his, I should have failed to make. I owe him, therefore, much; and, though the grave has long since closed over my friend and his persecutors, it is still a pleasure to me to acknowledge obligations which I have never ceased to feel.

Many circumstances, since the period of my visit to[p. viii] Spain, have favored my successive attempts to increase the Spanish library I then began. The residence in Madrid of my friend, the late Mr. Alexander Hill Everett, who ably represented his country for several years at the court of Spain; and the subsequent residence there, in the same high position, of my friend, Mr. Washington Irving, equally honored on both sides of the Atlantic, but especially cherished by Spaniards for the enduring monument he has erected to the history of their early adventures, and for the charming fictions, whose scene he has laid in their romantic country;—these fortunate circumstances naturally opened to me whatever facilities for collecting books could be afforded by the kindness of persons in places so distinguished, or by their desire to spread among their countrymen at home a literature they knew so well and loved so much.

But to two other persons, not unconnected with these statesmen and men of letters, it is no less my duty and my pleasure to make known my obligations. The first of them is Mr. O. Rich, formerly a Consul of the United States in Spain; the same bibliographer to whom Mr. Irving and Mr. Prescott have avowed similar obligations, and to whose personal regard I owe hardly less than I do to his extraordinary knowledge of rare and curious books, and his extraordinary success in collecting them. The other is Don Pascual de Gayangos, Professor of Arabic in the University of Madrid,—certainly in his peculiar department among[p. ix] the most eminent scholars now living, and one to whose familiarity with whatever regards the literature of his own country, the frequent references in my notes bear a testimony not to be mistaken. With the former of these gentlemen I have been in constant communication for many years, and have received from him valuable contributions of books and manuscripts collected in Spain, England, and France for my library.

With the latter, to whom I am not less largely indebted, I first became personally acquainted when I passed in Europe the period between 1835 and 1838, seeking to know scholars such as he is, and consulting, not only the principal public libraries of the Continent, but such rich private collections as those of Lord Holland in England, of M. Ternaux-Compans in France, and of the venerated and much-loved Tieck in Germany; all of which were made accessible to me by the frank kindness of their owners.

The natural result of such a long-continued interest in Spanish literature, and of so many pleasant inducements to study it, has been—I speak in a spirit of extenuation and self-defence—a book. In the interval between my two residences in Europe I delivered lectures upon its principal topics to successive classes in Harvard College; and, on my return home from the second, I endeavoured to arrange these lectures for publication. But when I had already employed much labor and time on them, I found—or thought I found—that the tone of discussion which I had adopted for[p. x] my academical audiences was not suited to the purposes of a regular history. Destroying, therefore, what I had written, I began afresh my never unwelcome task, and so have prepared the present work, as little connected with all I had previously done as it, perhaps, can be, and yet cover so much of the same ground.

In correcting my manuscript for the press I have enjoyed the counsels of two of my more intimate friends; of Mr. Francis C. Gray, a scholar who should permit the world to profit more than it does by the large resources of his accurate and tasteful learning, and of Mr. William H. Prescott, the historian of both hemispheres, whose name will not be forgotten in either, but whose honors will always be dearest to those who have best known the discouragements under which they have been won, and the modesty and gentleness with which they are worn. To these faithful friends, whose unchanging regard has entered into the happiness of all the active years of my life, I make my affectionate acknowledgments, as I now part from a work in which they have always taken an interest, and which, wherever it goes, will carry on its pages the silent proofs of their kindness and taste.

Park Street, Boston, 1849.

I cannot dismiss the last sheet of this History, without offering my sincere thanks to the conductors of the University Press at Cambridge, and to Mr. George[p. xi] Nichols, its scholarlike corrector, for the practised skill and conscientious fidelity with which, after it was in type, my work has been revised and prepared for publication.

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CONTENTS OF VOLUME FIRST.

FIRST PERIOD.

The Literature that existed in Spain between the First Appearance of the Present Written Language and the Early Part of the Reign of the Emperor Charles the Fifth, or from the End of the Twelfth Century to the Beginning of the Sixteenth.

SECOND PERIOD.

The Literature that existed in Spain From the Accession of the Austrian Family to its Extinction; or from the Beginning of the Sixteenth Century to the End of the Seventeenth.

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HISTORY OF SPANISH LITERATURE.

FIRST PERIOD.

The Literature that existed in Spain between the First Appearance of the present Written Language and the Early Part of the Reign of the Emperor Charles the Fifth; or from the End of the Twelfth Century to the Beginning of the Sixteenth.

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HISTORY OF SPANISH LITERATURE.

FIRST PERIOD.

CHAPTER I.

Division of the Subject. — Origin of Spanish Literature in Times of great Trouble.

In the earliest ages of every literature that has vindicated for itself a permanent character in modern Europe, much of what constituted its foundations was the result of local situation and of circumstances seemingly accidental. Sometimes, as in Provence, where the climate was mild and the soil luxuriant, a premature refinement started forth, which was suddenly blighted by the influences of the surrounding barbarism. Sometimes, as in Lombardy and in a few portions of France, the institutions of antiquity were so long preserved by the old municipalities, that, in occasional intervals of peace, it seemed as if the ancient forms of civilization might be revived and prevail;—hopes kindled only to be extinguished by the violence amidst which the first modern communities, with the policy they needed, were brought forth and[p. 4] established. And sometimes both these causes were combined with others, and gave promise of a poetry full of freshness and originality, which, however, as it advanced, was met by a spirit more vigorous than its own, beneath whose

predominance its language was forbidden to rise above the condition of a local dialect, or became merged in that of its more fortunate rival;—a result which we early recognize alike in Sicily, Naples, and Venice, where the authority of the great Tuscan masters was, from the first, as loyally acknowledged as it was in Florence or Pisa.

Like much of the rest of Europe, the southwestern portion, now comprising the kingdoms of Spain and Portugal, was affected by nearly all these different influences. Favored by a happy climate and soil, by the remains of Roman culture, which had lingered long in its mountains, and by the earnest and passionate spirit which has marked its people through their many revolutions down to the present day, the first signs of a revived poetical feeling are perceptible in the Spanish peninsula even before they are to be found, with their distinctive characteristics, in that of Italy. But this earliest literature of modern Spain, a part of which is Provençal and the rest absolutely Castilian or Spanish, appeared in troubled times, when it was all but impossible that it should be advanced freely or rapidly in the forms it was destined at last to wear. For the masses of the Christian Spaniards filling the separate states, into which their country was most unhappily divided, were then involved in that tremendous warfare with their Arab invaders, which, for twenty generations, so consumed

their strength, that, long before the cross was planted on the towers of the Alhambra, and peace had given opportunity[p. 5] for the ornaments of life, Dante, Petrarca, and Boccaccio had appeared in the comparative quiet of Lombardy and Tuscany, and Italy had again taken her accustomed place at the head of the elegant literature of the world.

Under such circumstances, a large portion of the Spaniards, who had been so long engaged in this solemn contest, as the forlorn hope of Christendom, against the intrusion of Mohammedanism[1] and its imperfect civilization into Europe, and who, amidst all their sufferings, had constantly looked to Rome, as to the capital seat of their faith, for consolation and encouragement, did not hesitate again to acknowledge the Italian supremacy in letters,—a supremacy to which, in the days of the Empire, their allegiance had been complete. A school formed on Italian models naturally followed; and though the rich and original genius of Spanish poetry received less from its influence ultimately than might have been anticipated, still, from the time of its first appearance, its effects are too important and distinct to be overlooked.

Of the period, therefore, in which the history of Spanish literature opens upon us, we must make two divisions. The first will contain the genuinely national poetry and prose produced from the earliest times down to the reign of Charles the Fifth; while the second will contain that portion which, by imitating the refinement of Provence or of Italy, was, during the same interval, more or less separated from the popular spirit and genius. Both, when taken together, will fill up the period in which the main elements and characteristics of Spanish literature were[p. 6] developed, such as they have existed down to our own age.

In the first division of the first period, we are to consider the origin and character of that literature which sprang, as it were, from the very soil of Spain, and was almost entirely untouched by foreign influences.

And here, at the outset, we are struck with a remarkable circumstance, which announces something at least of the genius of the coming literature,—the circumstance of its appearance in times of great confusion and violence. For, in other portions of Europe, during those disastrous troubles that accompanied the overthrow of the Roman power and civilization, and the establishment of new forms of social order, if the inspirations of poetry came at all, they came in some fortunate period of comparative quietness and security, when the minds of men were less engrossed than they were wont to be by the necessity of providing for their personal safety and for their most pressing physical wants. But in Spain it was not so. There, the first utterance of that popular feeling which became the foundation of the national literature was heard in the midst of the extraordinary contest which the Christian Spaniards, for above seven centuries, urged against their Moorish invaders; so that the earliest Spanish poetry seems but a breathing of the energy and heroism which, at the time it appeared,

animated the great mass of the Spanish Christians throughout the Peninsula.

Indeed, if we look at the condition of Spain, in the centuries that preceded and followed the formation of its present language and poetry, we shall find the mere[p. 7] historical dates full of instruction. In 711, Roderic rashly hazarded the fate of his Gothic and Christian empire on the result of a single battle against the Arabs, then just forcing their way into the western part of Europe from Africa. He failed; and the wild enthusiasm which marked the earliest age of the Mohammedan power achieved almost immediately the conquest of the whole of the country that was worth the price of a victory. The Christians, however, though overwhelmed, did not entirely yield. On the contrary, many of them retreated before the fiery pursuit of their enemies, and established themselves in the extreme northwestern portion of their native land, amidst the mountains and fastnesses of Biscay and Asturias. There, indeed, the purity of the Latin tongue, which they had spoken for so many ages, was finally lost, through that neglect of its cultivation

which was a necessary consequence of the miseries that oppressed them. But still, with the spirit which so long sustained their forefathers against the power of Rome, and which has carried their descendants through a hardly less fierce contest against the power of France, they maintained, to a remarkable degree, their ancient manners and feelings, their religion, their laws, and their institutions; and, separating themselves by an implacable hatred from their Moorish invaders, they there, in those rude mountains, laid deep the foundations of a national character,—of that character which has subsisted to our own times.[2]

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As, however, they gradually grew inured to adversity, and understood the few hard advantages which their situation afforded them, they began to make incursions into the territories of their conquerors, and to seize for themselves some part of the fair possessions, once entirely their own. But every inch of ground was defended by the same fervid valor by which it had originally been won. The Christians, indeed, though occasionally defeated, generally gained something by each of their more considerable struggles; but what they gained could be preserved only by an exertion of bravery and military power hardly less painful than that by which it had been acquired. In 801, we find them already possessing a considerable part of Old Castile; but the very name now given to that country, from the multitude of castles with which it was studded, shows plainly the tenure by which the Christians from the mountains were compelled to hold these early fruits of their courage and constancy.[3] A century later, or in 914, they had pushed the outposts of their conquests to the chain of the Guadarrama,

separating New from Old Castile, and they may, therefore, at this date, be regarded as having again obtained a firm foothold in their own country, whose capital they established at Leon.

From this period, the Christians seem to have felt assured of final success. In 1085, Toledo, the venerated head of the old monarchy, was wrested from the Moors, who had then possessed it three hundred and sixty-three years; and in 1118, Saragossa was recovered: so that, from the beginning of the twelfth[p. 9] century, the whole Peninsula, down to the Sierra of Toledo, was again occupied by its former masters; and the Moors were pushed back into the southern and western provinces, by which they had originally entered. Their power, however, though thus reduced within limits comprising scarcely more than one third of its extent when it was greatest, seems still to have been rather consolidated than broken; and after three centuries of success, more than three other centuries of conflict were necessary before the fall of Granada finally emancipated the entire country from the loathed dominion of its misbelieving conquerors.