330 



Monthly Review of Literature, 



[MARCH, 



with the correctness and even with the 

 ease of a native though he still talks 

 of " old ugly maids," and " silk white 

 stockings" 'has quitted the field of his- 

 torical romance for what he, not unhap- 

 pily, calls a more veracious kind of fiction 

 an analysis of modern Spanish life 

 sketches of the society of Madrid, of 

 which capital we know in England ahout 

 as much as we do of that of Japan. 

 He has done wisely it is to seek glory 

 where it may be found. Historical ro- 

 mance is fairly over-run by English 

 writers, and the fashionable novel of 

 London Life is in the same state with 

 neither class, moreover, can a foreigner 

 hope to compete very successfully 

 though Don Trueba we allow has done 

 wonders but neither, on the other 

 hand, can any Englishman compete with 

 him on the details of the society of his 

 own native land. He has the tield all 

 to himself. Never was a more favour- 

 able period, for never was curiosity 

 more alive about foreign manners ; and 

 since the days of Gil Bias, Spain has 

 been almost untrodden ground. 



The period selected is 1820, on the 

 approaching short-lived triumph of the 

 Constitutionalists though the tale has 

 little to do with political matters. The 

 author studiously avoids the topic, and 

 only once attempts to rescue his coun- 

 trymen from undeserved obloquy. Al- 

 luding to Napoleon's invasion, and the 

 general burst of the Spaniards to repel 

 the aggressor, " some foolish people," 

 he ironically remarks, " tjiought the 

 Spaniards had shewn some heroism 

 some love of national independence, and, 

 moreover, that the merit was enhanced 

 by the difficulties that beset them ; but 

 foolish people," he adds, " as every 

 body knows, are very apt to be in the 

 wrong they were so in this case, and, 

 accordingly, Colonel Napier, and other 

 good folks, equally zealous in the cause 

 of truth and justice, have very merito- 

 riously set about correcting the error 

 of the said foolish people. They have 

 clearly shewn, by the irrefragable proof 

 of their own infallible word, that there 

 was no heroism at all in the case that 

 the Spaniards did nothing, because the 

 Spaniards are a set of cruel, supersti- 

 tious, ignorant, cowardly fellows," &c. 



The Incognito to give a bare outline 

 is a Conde', whose countess, a very- 

 lovely woman, intrigues with her foot- 

 man, and kindly recommends her hus- 

 band a studious man, and therefore 

 likely to meddle with matters not 

 thought to concern him to the Inqui- 

 sition. Escaping, however, from their 

 dungeons, he flies to America, and re- 

 turns to Spain about the time when 

 the Constitutionalists were gaining the 

 ascendancy, with the hope of again re- 

 suming his station in society. In the 



meanwhile the Countess figures in the 

 fashionable tertulias as a rich widow, 

 with a daughter, whom she is labouring 

 to marry to a wealthy banker's son. 

 But the banker's son is perversely at- 

 tached to an orphan girl, brought up 

 with his old maiden aunt at Aranjuez, 

 and, in spite of his father's coarse ma- 

 noeuvres and importunities, steadily re- 

 fuses to second his schemes of aggran- 

 dizement. The poor, but beautiful or- 

 phan, proves to be the Incognito's own 

 daughter by a former marriage, and is, 

 of course, rescued from the clutches of 

 beatas and monks, who wish to make a 

 nun of her, and is finally married to 

 her lover. In the midst of the Countesses 

 apparent gaiety and splendour, she is 

 harassed to death at home by her se- 

 ducer, who drains her purse, and at last 

 insists upon marrying her, under the 

 threat of exposure*. Before, however, 

 he carries his point, he discovers the 

 Incognito, and forthwith hires a bravo 

 to dispatch him. The bravo plays booty, 

 and a discovery follows. The husband 

 breaks in upon the seducer, while in the 

 act of forcing the Countess to a mar- 

 riage the wretch makes a plunge with 

 his cichucco at the Incognito the Coun- 

 tess throws herself between them, and 

 intercepts the fatal blow in her own 

 bosom. 



The reader will find scenes, charac- 

 ters, and national peculiarities to which 

 he was before probably a stranger but 

 we have no space to particularize. The 

 grave irony with which the whole is 

 written is apt to weary it is the com- 

 mon tone of the old Spanish novels and 

 the writer has stretched it to the full 

 limits of endurance. 



A specimen is but fair the good peo- 

 ple of Madrid have not learnt to be 

 exclusive yet. Certainly we are the 

 haughtiest people in Europe some will 

 say, because the most cultivated. 



The great people of Madrid have as yet made 

 very little progress in the science of exclusive- 

 ness. They have not been compelled deeply to 

 study the means of repelling the attacks of the 

 tntrusivcs ; there is neither a city to meditate 

 invasion, not a west end striving to defeat the 

 inimical designs. North and south, east and 

 west, are alike to the nobles and fashionables, 

 and thus the magnificent mansionsof the grandees 

 are scattered about the metropolis without any 

 other reference but the convenience of the situa- 

 tion. Besides, there is no terra incognita at 

 Madrid, inhabited by savages and nondescripts, 

 as there is in London, according to the accounts 

 of some very wise and profound authors. The 

 great people are also sadly deficient in the know- 

 ledge of all those little rules which the said au- 

 thors hold so decisive in determining the ton of a 

 person. They have not yet learnt the fashion or 

 vulgarity contained in each wine, and accordingly 

 every one swallows very innocently the wine he 

 likes best, without ever suspecting the deleterious 



