liv 



RISE AND PROGRESS 



comprehensive and minute as to leave us nothing 

 to learn about her villages and castles, her cities 

 and sierras, for the age in which the scene is 

 liid ; which, in depicting two persons, as strongly 

 opposed as is the world of poetry to the world 

 of prose, and yet, like other extremes, meeting 

 on certain ground common to both one erring 

 from visionary enthusiasm, and one from self- 

 blinding calculation could at the same time 

 hold up a mirror of human nature, that will 

 show to all men some of their own features. 

 And Cervantes, likewise, with the highest crea- 

 tive power, has forced us to love his creations. 

 With all his follies we love Quixote ; with all his 

 selfishness we love Sancho. Our sympathies 

 descend, as no other history or fiction has made 

 them do, to the horse of the master, to the ass 

 of the squire. Rozinante and Dapple are cher- 

 ished names with thousands who never heard of 

 Alexander's Bucephalus, or of the Cid's Ba- 

 vieca. 



In 1599, six years before the first part of Don 

 Quixote was published, Mattheo Aleman, by his 

 life of Guzman tf Al far ache, kept up the Spanish 

 predilection for novels of roguish adventure. 

 A little later, among the manifold writings of 

 Quevedo,* there are some whose gay wit and 

 satire have induced a French critic to call him 

 the Voltaire of Spain. In a more serious vein, 

 the historical works of the elegant Mariana,f 

 who was wise enough to render his original Latin 

 into his vernacular tongue, and of the pure, 

 energetic, faithful Antonio de Solis,t help to 

 redeem the literary vices of the seventeenth 

 century. But during that space of time, and 

 especially from the middle to the end of it, the 

 decay of letters kept pace with the fall of the 

 Spanish power. The humiliation of both seemed 

 completed in the reign of the second Charles. 

 Unfortunately for the Spaniards, political ani- 

 mosity forbade them to learn anything from 

 Britain or from France, at an epoch when either 

 country could have taught things worthy of all 

 acceptance. But with the Italians they main- 

 tained a close relation in the decline as well as 

 in the improvement of their literature. Between 

 these nations there was a reciprocal contagion. 

 The Italian Marino had been infected by a 

 Spanish education, and in return he gave lessons 

 at least as bad as he received. GONGORA || was 

 his contemporary in Spain, and his rival in cor- 

 rupting the taste of a whole people. From the 

 ability of this writer, though great, from his wit, 

 though rare and subtle, no results could flow 



A. D. 1580-1645. t A. D. 1533 1623. \ A. D. 1616 1686. 

 J A. D. 16651700. Q A. D. 15611627. 



except an aggravation of that tendency to 

 florid pomp and affected refinement, which the 

 Spaniards of themselves, and as a consequence 

 of their old connection with the Moors, were 

 sufficiently inclined to. Gongora became the 

 leader of two sects that vied with each other in 

 absurdities which it would be painful to examine. 

 Extravagance was now the besetting sin in 

 poetry ; childish fastidiousness in prose. 



Nevertheless we may part from Spanish letters 

 (since there will be little to say of them here- 

 after) upon higher ground. In Spain, as in 

 other parts of Europe, a regular theatre grew out 

 of religious shows and acted allegories. Then 

 pastoral poetry was dramatised. Then ro- 

 mance was dramatised. Plays of incident and 

 intrigue, without particular aim or good painting 

 of character, were brought out by the elder 

 Naharro :* their coarse and ragged outline was 

 soon filled up with more humour and sententious- 

 ness by Lope de Rueda : a few strokes from the 

 pen of Cervantes embellished the rude but 

 ripening art. It was not, however, in dramatic 

 poetry that the magic of his pen was destined to 

 work its miracles. Passing over, therefore, both 

 his lighter pieces, and the traits of ^Eschylean 

 power and patriotism discernible in his Numantia, 

 we hail in LOPE DK VEGA f the great father of the 

 Spanish stage. The instinctive acuteness of that 

 prolific genius divined the taste of his country- 

 men ; and he fed their appetite for complicated 

 plots and extraordinary adventures with novels 

 in a theatrical form. Such is the real nature of 

 Lope's comedies, as all his dramas have been 

 styled. Exactly as the substance of novels 

 varies ; mournful or humorous, historic or ideal ; 

 so varied this species of comedy. The one thing 

 needful in it was a tangled intrigue to keep 

 curiosity alive. After the time .of Lope sundry 

 divisions and subdivisions of the art were enu- 

 merated : divine and human comedies ; comedies 

 of the cloak and sword ; lives of saints and sac- 

 ramental acts. Through the whole circle of 

 these, and other varieties, as yet undistinguished 

 by name, Lope de Vega ran with inexhaustible 

 fertility and readiness. He wrote more than 

 2000 plays. He often composed an entire play 

 in less than twenty-four hours. What wonder that 

 his conceptions should be often rather wild than 

 bold : that his style, though poetical, should be 

 too frequently careless ; careless even in the 

 profusion of its flowers, which he stayed not to 

 cull or to arrange ! Not so daring in the first 

 conception, but more regular in plan, more 

 finished in execution, were the dramatic works 



About A. D. 1510. 



t A. D. 15621635. 



