It is
the conventional attitude of hosts of Romanticists who did little
but re-echo the _Vanitas vanitatum_ of the author of Ecclesiastes.
the conventional attitude of hosts of Romanticists who did little
but re-echo the _Vanitas vanitatum_ of the author of Ecclesiastes.
Jose de Espronceda
She may or may not be the Elisa to whom Delio
sings in the "Serenata. " According to Balbino Cortés in an interview
reported by Solís, Teresa and her husband, while on a visit to Paris in
October, 1831, happened to lodge at the hotel frequented by Espronceda.
Shortly afterwards Teresa deserted her husband and an infant son and
eloped with Espronceda. She followed him to Madrid in 1833, where
a daughter, Blanca, was born to them in 1834. Within a year Teresa
abandoned Espronceda and her second child. She sank into the gutter and
died a pauper in 1839. This sordid romance occupied only about three
years of Espronceda's life, a much shorter time than had been supposed.
Churchman was the first to break the long conspiracy of silence which
withheld from the world Teresa's full name. Cascales y Muñoz has since
thrown more light upon this episode. But these gentlemen have done
nothing more than to tell an open secret. Escosura, long ago, all but
betrayed it in the following pun: "Tendamos el velo de olvido sobre
esa lamentable flaqueza de un gran corazón," he says, referring to the
affair with Teresa, "y recordemos, de paso, que el sol mismo, ese astro
de luz soberano, tan sublimemente cantado por nuestro vate, _manchas_
tiene que si una parte de su esplendor anublan, a eclipsarlo no bastan. "
Señor Cascales publishes a reproduction of Teresa's portrait. We see
a face of a certain hard beauty. We are struck with the elaborate
coiffure, the high forehead, the long nose, the weak mouth. The
expression is unamiable. It is the face of a termagant ready to abandon
husband and child. Espronceda seems to have returned to England for a
brief period in 1832, as we may infer from the fact that the poem
"A Matilde" is dated London, 1832. Corroboration of this belief was
discovered by Churchman, who found that the paper on which "Blanca de
Borbón" was written shows the water-mark of an English firm of that
date.
In 1833 Ferdinand VII died, and his daughter Isabel II ascended to the
throne under the regency of her mother Cristina. As the conservatives
espoused the cause of the pretender, Don Carlos, the regency was forced
to favor the liberals. The rigid press censorship was abolished, and a
general amnesty was granted all the victims of Ferdinand's tyranny. In
politics the year 1833 marks the beginning of the Carlist war, and
in literature of Spanish Romanticism. Espronceda was one of many
_emigrados_ who returned to Spain, bringing with them new ideas for the
revitalizing of Spanish literature. He did not arrive soon enough to
see his aged father. Brigadier Espronceda's death certificate is dated
January 10, 1833.
Shortly after José's arrival he joined the fashionable Guardia de Corps
or royal guard regiment. This step, apparently so inconsistent with
his revolutionary activities, has puzzled all his biographers. But
Espronceda was only following the family tradition. His elder brother
had done the same. Doubtless he believed, in his first enthusiasm, that
Spain was now completely liberalized. Besides, he was a dandy always
eager for social distinction, and he had to live down the fact that his
mother was proprietress of an _establecimiento de coches_. The conduct
of his fellow-Numantino, Escosura, who had found it possible to accept
a commission under Ferdinand, is far more surprising. Espronceda's
snobbishness, if he had any, cannot have been extreme, for he took up
residence with his mother over the aforementioned livery stable, in the
Calle de San Miguel. Teresa was prudently lodged under another roof.
Doña Carmen was as indulgent as ever, and especially desirous that her
son dress in the most fashionable clothes procurable. What with her
rent from the house, her widow's pension, and the yield of her business
venture, she was comfortably circumstanced. When Teresa abandoned the
child Blanca, Doña Carmen became a mother to her. When Doña Carmen died
in 1840 everything went to her son.
Espronceda's career as a guardsman was brief. As a result of reading a
satirical poem at a public banquet, he was cashiered and banished to the
town of Cuéllar in Old Castile. There he wrote his "Sancho Saldaña o
el Castellano de Cuéllar," a historical novel in the manner of Walter
Scott, describing the quarrels of Sancho el Bravo with his father
Alfonso X. This six-volume work was contracted for in 1834 and completed
and published the same year. For writing it the author received six
thousand reales. Many writers in Spain were striving to rival the Wizard
of the North at this time. Ramón López Soler had set the fashion in
1830 with "Los Bandos de Castilla. " Larra's "Doncel de Don Enrique
el Doliente" appeared in the same year with "Sancho Saldaña. " But
Espronceda was probably most influenced by his friend Escosura, who had
printed his "Conde de Candespina" in 1832. The latter's best effort in
this genre, "Ni Rey ni Roque," 1835, was written when its author was
undergoing banishment for political reasons in a corner of Andalusia. To
employ the enforced leisure of political exile in writing a historical
novel was quite the proper thing to do. The banishment to Cuéllar must
have taken place in late 1833 or early 1834, for Espronceda's novel is
unquestionably inspired by his enforced visit to that town, and the
contract with his publisher is dated in Madrid, February 5, 1834. On
reading the contract it is apparent that the novel had hardly been begun
then, as it was to be paid for in installments. Whether it was written
mostly in Cuéllar or Madrid we do not know and care little. In January
of that year _El Siglo_ was founded, a radical journal with which
Espronceda was prominently connected. During the brief existence of this
incendiary sheet (January 21 until March 7) Espronceda contributed to it
several political articles. The last issue came out almost wholly blank
as an object lesson of the censor's activity. There follow a few
months of agitation and political intrigue, the upshot of which
was Espronceda's imprisonment for three weeks without trial. After
protesting in the press and appealing to the queen regent, he was
released and banished to Badajoz. How long he was absent from the
capital we do not know, except that this banishment, like the others,
was of short duration. During all this commotion there was produced at
the Teatro de la Cruz, in April, an indifferent play, "Ni el Tío ni el
Sobrino," whose authors were Espronceda and his friend Antonio Ros y
Olano. It is difficult to paint anything but a confused picture of
Espronceda's life during the remaining years of this decade. We catch
glimpses of him debating questions of art and politics at cafés and
literary _tertulias_ like the Parnasillo, where Mesonero Romanos saw him
faultlessly attired and "darting epigrams against everything existing,
past, and future. " Córdoba in his memoirs bears witness that he was
still the _buscarruidos_ of old. Espronceda with Larra, Escosura, Ros
De Olano, and Córdoba constituted the "Thunder Band" of the Parnasillo
(_partida del trueno_). After a long literary discussion they would
sally forth into the streets, each armed with a peashooter and on
mischief bent. A favorite prank was to tie a chestnut vender's table to
a waiting cab and then watch the commotion which followed when the cab
started to move. On one occasion, finding the Duke of Alba's coachman
asleep on the box, they painted the yellow coach red, so altering it
that the very owner failed to recognize it when he left the house where
he had been calling. In politics Espronceda is always a leader in
revolt, fighting with pen and sword for his none-too-clearly-defined
principles. Even the Mendizábal ministry, the most advanced that Spain
has ever had, does not satisfy him. His ideal is a republic and the
downfall of "the spurious race of Bourbon. " His love affairs are equally
stormy. In literature he is attempting everything, plays, a novel,
polemical articles, lyric poems, and one supreme work which is to be the
very epic of humanity.
In 1835 Espronceda became an officer in the National Militia. In August
of that year the militiamen were defeated in an unsuccessful revolt
against the Toreno ministry. In 1836 he was equally unfortunate in a
revolt against the Istúriz ministry. It was then, when pursued by the
police, that a friend secreted him in the safest possible place, the
home of a high police official. Espronceda employed his leisure hours in
this refuge by writing "El Mendigo" and "El Verdugo. " Two years later
he traveled extensively through Andalusia engaged in revolutionary
propaganda. He was probably trying to bring about a republican form of
government. In September, 1838, his play "Amor venga sus agravios,"
written in collaboration with Eugenio Moreno López, was produced at the
Teatro del Príncipe. Its success was moderate. The next year, while in
Granada, he and his friend Santos Álvarez were guests of honor at a
literary soirée. Espronceda's contribution was the reading of "El
Estudiante de Salamanca. " This poem was first printed, at least in part,
in _La Alhambra_ for 1839. The great political event of this year was
the ending of the first Carlist war. The victories of the national
troops were celebrated by a huge public demonstration in Madrid on the
national holiday, May 2, 1840. For this occasion Espronceda wrote his
patriotic poem "El Dos de Mayo. " Only three days later his volume of
"Poesías" was placed on sale, and, like Byron, he awoke to find himself
famous. His old teacher Lista wrote a favorable review. From then on
Espronceda was a man of note. The Madrid revolution of September 1
forced an unwilling regent to make Espartero, hero of the Carlist war,
prime minister. A radical sheet, _El Huracán_, was accused of attacking
Cristina and of advocating republicanism. Espronceda, though not a
lawyer, was chosen to defend the journal. This he did with complete
success. His speech has not come down to us, but we are told that in it
he appeared in the rôle of an uncompromising republican.
Nevertheless he was soon to compromise. He was now a man of mark, and
the liberal régime in power were not slow to see that it would be
advantageous to enlist his services. In November, 1841, he accepted an
appointment to serve as secretary to the Spanish legation at the Hague.
He served in this capacity exactly five days. Arriving at the Hague
on January 29, 1842, he departed for Madrid on February 3. A certain
Carrasco had been elected deputy of the province of Almería. He was now
urged to resign to make room for Espronceda. This he did, and Espronceda
was elected and served in his stead. Of course all this had been
prearranged. After his return he continued to hold his diplomatic
position and receive pay for it, a not very honorable course on the part
of one who pled so eloquently for the abolition of useless offices
and the reform of the diplomatic service. In this way the Espartero
government conciliated Espronceda with two offices. Henceforth his
republicanism was lukewarm. Escosura tells us that concern for his
daughter Blanca's financial future had rendered him prudent.
I am inclined to think that Espronceda's biographers underrate his
services in the Chamber of Deputies. The trouble is that in his rôle of
deputy their hero failed to justify preconceived notions regarding his
character. Those who looked for revolution in his speeches found only
sound finance. We seek in vain for anything subversive. There is nothing
suggestive of the lyric poet or even of the fiery defender of _El
Huracán_. As a poet he had praised the destructive fury of the Cossacks
who swept away decadent governments. In defending _El Huracán_ he had
used the word Cossack as a term of reproach, applying it to those
self-seeking politicians who were devouring the public funds. By this
time he had himself become a Cossack on a small scale. Yet we must do
him the justice to point out that he had had sufficient firmness of
principle to refuse office under Mendizábal, Istúriz, and the Duque de
Rivas. Fitzmaurice-Kelly is possibly going too far in intimating that
he was degenerating into a hidebound conservative and opportunist.
Something of the old reforming zeal survived. Though many
disillusionments may have rendered him less eager for a republican form
of government, his latest utterances show him zealous as ever for social
and economic reform. Espronceda's parliamentary career lasted less than
three months (March 1 to May 23, 1842). One can only wonder that in so
brief a time a man already stricken with a fatal illness should have
taken so able a part in an assembly in which he was a newcomer. Nor
should we complain that his speeches lack eloquence. It is fairer to
give him credit for not falling into the abuse of _palabrería_, the
besetting sin of most _diputados_.
His views were sober and sound. Travel had given him a wider
outlook than most of his colleagues possessed. He was the enemy of
_españolismo_, wanted his nation to take a prominent part in European
affairs, and no longer to lead the life of a hermit nation. But he is no
jingo. He speaks against the bill to add fifty thousand to the standing
army. Spain had passed through too many upheavals. What she needed to
make her a European power was tranquility and opportunity to develop
financial strength. Give the producing classes their long-awaited
innings. But he is bitter against the magnates of the bourse and those
politicians who legislate to produce an artificial rise in values. The
true policy is to better the condition of the masses, to encourage
agriculture and manufactures: even the construction of railways should
wait until there is first something to haul over them. But manufactures
should not be protected by a tariff. In his speech against the tariff
on cotton he shows himself an out and out free-trader. He praises the
English for their policy of free trade, enlightened self-interest he
deems it, which tends to make the world one large family. As a writer he
had inveighed against commercialism. But he now discerns a future where
commerce shall replace war. He was unable to foresee that in the future
trade was to be a chief cause of war.
That he was a ready debater is shown by his neat rejoinder to Deputy
Fontán. This gentleman had made sneering allusions to men of letters
who dabbled in diplomacy. Far from accepting the remark as a thrust at
himself, as it was intended, Espronceda resented it as an insult to the
then American minister Washington Irving, "novelist of the first
rank, known in Europe through his writings even more than through the
brilliancy of his diplomatic career. "
Espronceda's health had been failing for some months. It is said that
chronic throat trouble had so weakened his voice as to make his remarks
in the Cortés scarcely audible. On May 18, 1842, he journeyed on
horseback to Aranjuez to visit Doña Bernarda Beruete, a young lady to
whom he was then engaged. Hastily returning to Madrid on the afternoon
of the same day, so as not to miss a night session of the Cortés, he
contracted a cold which soon turned into a fatal bronchitis. Others say
he was taken ill at a reception given by Espartero. He died May 23,
1842, at the early age of 34. He was honored with a public funeral in
keeping with his position as deputy and distinguished man of letters.
His first place of burial was the cemetery of San Nicolás; but in 1902
his remains, together with those of Larra, were exhumed and reburied in
the Pantheon for Distinguished Men of the Nineteenth Century, situated
in the Patio de Santa Gertrudis in the Cementerio de la Sacramental de
San Justo.
In forming our estimate of the man, we must carefully distinguish
between the Espronceda of legend and the Espronceda of fact; for a
legend sprang up during his own lifetime, largely the result of his own
self-defamation. Like many other Romanticists, Espronceda affected a
reputation for diabolism. He loved to startle the bourgeois, to pose as
atheist, rake, deposer of tyrants. Escosura sums up this aspect of his
character by branding him "a hypocrite of vice. " Many have been led
astray by Ferrer del Río's statement that in drawing the character of
the seducer, Don Félix de Montemar, Espronceda was painting his own
portrait. Such criticism would have delighted Espronceda, but the
imputation was indignantly denied by his close friend Escosura. Modern
critics are careful to avoid this extreme; but, in the delight of
supporting a paradox, some are disposed to go too far in the opposite
direction. Señor Cascales, for instance, is unconvincing when he seeks
to exonerate Espronceda from all blame in the Teresa episode. Like the
devil, Espronceda was not so black as he was painted, not so black as
he painted himself; but he was far from being a Joseph. It is easy to
minimize the importance of the part he played in the national militia.
Doubtless much of his plotting was puerile and melodramatic. His
activities as a revolutionist cannot have greatly affected the course of
events. But it is unfair to deny him credit for constant willingness
to risk his life in any cause which seemed noble. That his conduct was
inconsistent merely proves that he followed no calmly reasoned political
system. He reflects in his conduct the heated sentiment of the time,
varying as it did from day to day. He sometimes compromised with his
ideals, his sense of honor was not always of the highest, but he never
seems to have grown lukewarm in his desire to serve the people. He is
a liberal to the last, a liberal with notions of political economy and
English constitutional practice. His quarrel with the church seems to
have been political rather than theological. He hated the friars and the
church's alliance with Carlism. That the last rites were administered to
him shows that he died a professing Catholic. In appearance Espronceda
was handsome, if somewhat too effeminate-looking to suggest the
fire-eater. He never cultivated slovenliness of attire like most
members of the Romantic school; on the contrary, he was the leading
representative in Spain of dandyism. To sum up, Espronceda's was a
tempestuous and very imperfect character. "Siempre fuí el juego de mis
pasiones," is his own self-analysis. The best that can be said of him
is that he was a warm, affectionate nature, generous, charitable to the
poor, a loyal friend, and one actuated by noble, if sometimes mistaken,
ideals. Years afterward, when Escosura passed in review the little
circle of the Colegio de San Mateo, Espronceda was the only one of them
whom he could truly say he loved.
THE WORKS OF ESPRONCEDA
Of all the Spanish poets of the period of Romanticism, Espronceda is the
most commanding figure. Piñeyro, adopting Emerson's phrase, calls him
the Representative Man of that age of literary and political revolt.
More than that, criticism is unanimous in considering him Spain's
greatest lyric poet of the nineteenth century.
First of all he interests as the poet of democracy. The Romantic poets
were no more zealous seekers for political liberalism than the
classic poets of the previous generation had been; but their greater
subjectivity and freedom of expression rendered their appeal more
vigorous. Espronceda's hatred for absolutism was so intense that in
moments of excitement he became almost anti-social. The pirate, the
beggar, the Cossack, were his heroes. The love of this dandy for the
lower classes cannot be dismissed as mere pose. He keenly sympathized
with the oppressed, and felt that wholesale destruction must precede
the work of construction. We look in vain for a reasoned political
philosophy in his volcanic verse. His outpourings were inspired by the
irresponsible ravings of groups of café radicals, and the point of view
constantly changed as public sentiment veered. According to his lights
he is always a patriot. Liberty and democracy are his chief desires.
Like most Romanticists, Espronceda was intensely subjective. He
interests by his frank display of his inner moods. Bonilla, in his
illuminating article "El Pensamiento de Espronceda," states that the
four essential points in the philosophy of Romanticism were: doubt,
the first principle of thought; sorrow, the positive reality of life;
pleasure, the world's illusion; death, the negation of the will to live.
Espronceda shared all of these ideas. It is often impossible to say how
much of his suffering is a mere Byronic pose, and how much comes from
the reaction of an intensely sensitive nature to the hard facts of
existence. There is evidence that he never lost the zest of living;
but in his writings he appears as one who has been completely
disillusionized by literature, love, politics, and every experience
of life. Truth is the greatest of evils, because truth is always sad;
"mentira," on the other hand, is merciful and kind. He carries doubt so
far that he doubts his very doubts. Such a philosophy should logically
lead to quietism. That pessimism did not in the case of Espronceda
bring inaction makes one suspect that it was largely affected. There is
nothing profound in this very commonplace philosophy of despair.
It is
the conventional attitude of hosts of Romanticists who did little
but re-echo the _Vanitas vanitatum_ of the author of Ecclesiastes.
Espronceda's thought is too shallow to entitle him to rank high as a
philosophic poet. In this respect he is inferior even to Campoamor
and Núñez de Arce. Genuine world-weariness is the outgrowth of a more
complex civilization than that of Spain. Far from being a Leopardi,
Espronceda may nevertheless be considered the leading Spanish exponent
of the _taedium vitae_. He has eloquently expressed this commonplace and
conventional attitude of mind.
Like so many other writers of the Latin race, Espronceda is more
admirable for the form in which he clothed his thoughts than for those
thoughts themselves. He wrote little and carefully. He is remarkable for
his virtuosity, his harmonious handling of the most varied meters. He
never, like Zorrilla, produces the effect of careless improvisation. In
the matter of poetic form Espronceda has been the chief inspiration of
Spanish poets down to the advent of Rubén Darío. Fitzmaurice-Kelly, with
his happy knack of hitting off an author's characteristics in a phrase,
says: "He still stirs us with his elemental force, his resonant musical
potency of phrase, his communicative ardor for noble causes. "
Much harm has been done Espronceda's reputation for originality by those
critics who fastened upon him the name of "the Spanish Byron. " Nothing
could be more unjust than to consider him the slavish imitator of a
single author. In literature, as in love, there is safety in numbers,
and the writer who was influenced by Calderón, Tasso, Milton, Goethe,
Béranger, Hugo, Shakespeare, and Scott was no mere satellite to Byron.
Señor Cascales is so sensitive on the point that he is scarcely willing
to admit that Byron exerted any influence whatsoever upon Espronceda.
The truth is that Byron did influence Espronceda profoundly, as
Churchman has sufficiently proved by citing many instances of borrowings
from the English poet, where resemblance in matters of detail is wholly
conclusive; but it is another matter to assert that Espronceda was
always Byronic or had no originality of his own.
In considering Espronceda's writings in detail, we need concern
ourselves little with his dramatic and prose writings. The quickest road
to literary celebrity was the writing of a successful play. Espronceda
seems never to have completely relinquished the hope of achieving such a
success. His first attempt was a three-act verse comedy, "Ni el Tío ni
el Sobrino" (1834), written in collaboration with Antonio Ros de Olano.
Larra censured it for its insipidity and lack of plan. A more ambitious
effort was "Amor venga sus agravios" (1838), written in collaboration
with Eugenio Moreno López. This was a five-act costume play, in prose,
portraying the life at the court of Philip IV. It was produced without
regard to expense, but with indifferent success. Espronceda's most
ambitious play was never staged, and has only recently become easily
accessible: this was "Blanca de Borbón," a historical drama of the times
of Peter the Cruel in five acts, in verse. The first two acts were
written in Espronceda's early Classic manner; the last three, written
at a later period, are Romantic in tone. The influence of "Macbeth" is
apparent. "Blanca de Borbón" could never be a success on the stage. The
verse, too, is not worthy of the author. Espronceda was too impetuous
a writer to comply with the restrictions of dramatic technique. The
dramatic passages in "El Estudiante de Salamanca" and "El Diablo Mundo"
are his best compositions in dialogue.
"Sancho Saldaña" is Espronceda's most important prose work. It is a
historical novel of the thirteenth century, written frankly in imitation
of Walter Scott's Waverley Novels. The romance contains many tiresome
descriptions of scenery, and drags along tediously as most old-fashioned
novels did. But Espronceda had none of Sir Walter's archaeological
erudition, none of his ability to seize the characteristics of an epoch,
and above all none of his skill as a creator of interesting characters.
The personages in "Sancho Saldaña" fail to interest. The most that can
be said of the work is that among the numerous imitations of Scott's
novels which appeared at the time it is neither the best nor the worst.
Of his shorter prose works only two, "De Gibraltar a Lisboa, viaje
histórico" and "Un Recuerdo," are easily accessible. They are vivid
portrayals of certain episodes of his exile, and may still be read
with interest. His most important polemical work is "El Ministerio
Mendizábal" (Madrid, 1836). In this screed we find the fiery radical
attacking as unsatisfactory the ultra-liberal Mendizábal. This and
shorter political articles interest the historian and the biographer,
but hardly count as literature. His rare attempts at literary criticism
have even less value.
Espronceda shows true greatness only as a lyric poet. For spirit and
perfection of form what could be more perfect than the "Canción del
Pirata"? Like Byron in the "Corsair," he extols the lawless liberty of
the buccaneer. Byron was here his inspiration rather than Hugo. The
"Chanson de Pirates" cannot stand comparison with either work. But
Espronceda's indebtedness to Byron was in this case very slight. He
has made the theme completely his own. "El Mendigo" and "El Canto del
Cosaco," both anarchistic in sentiment, were inspired by Béranger. Once
more Espronceda has improved upon his models, "Les Gueux" and "Le Chant
du Cosaque. " Compare Espronceda's refrain in the "Cossack Song" with
Béranger's in the work which suggested it:
¡Hurra, Cosacos del desierto! ¡Hurra!
La Europa os brinda espléndido botín
Sangrienta charca sus campiñas sean,
De los grajos su ejército festín.
Hennis d'orgueil, o mon coursier fidèle!
Et foule aux pieds les peuples et les rois.
The "Canto del Cosaco" was a prime favorite with the revolutionary youth
of Spain, who thundered out the "hurras" with telling effect. "El Reo de
Muerte" and "El Verdugo" are in a similar vein, though much inferior.
"Serenata," "A la Noche," "El Pescador" (reminiscent of Goethe), "A una
Estrella," and "A una Rosa, soneto" are lighter works. They make up in
grace what they lack in vigor. "El Himno al Sol" is the most perfect
example of Espronceda's Classic manner, and is rightly considered one of
his masterpieces. It challenges comparison with the Duque de Rivas' very
similar poem. Of the numerous patriotic poems "Al Dos de Mayo" and "A
la Patria" deserve especial mention. He attempted satire in "El Pastor
Clasiquino," recently reprinted by Le Gentil from "El Artista. " In
this poem he assails academic poetry like that produced by his old
fellow-academicians of the Myrtle. It betrays the peevishness of a
Romanticist writing when Romanticism was already on the wane.
"El Diablo Mundo," Espronceda's most ambitious work, is commonly
considered his masterpiece; an unfinished masterpiece, however. Even
if death had spared him, it is doubtful if he could have finished so
all-embracing a theme as he proposed:
Nada menos te ofrezco que un poema
Con lances raros y revuelto asunto,
De nuestro mundo y sociedad emblema. . . .
Fiel traslado ha de ser, cierto trasunto
De la vida del hombre y la quimera
Tras de que va la humanidad entera.
Batallas, tempestades, amoríos,
Por mar y tierra, lances, descripciones
De campos y ciudades, desafíos,
Y el desastre y furor de las pasiones,
Goces, dichas, aciertos, desvaríos,
Con algunas morales reflexiones
Acerca de la vida y de la muerte,
De mi propia cosecha, que es mi fuerte.
Adam, hero of the epic, is introduced in Canto I as an aged scholar
disillusioned with life, but dreading the proximity of Death, with whom
he converses in a vision. The Goddess of Life grants him the youth of
Faust and the immortality of the Wandering Jew. Unlike either, he has
the physical and mental characteristics of an adult joined to the
naïveté of a child. In Canto III Adam appears in a _casa de huéspedes_,
naked and poor, oblivious of the past, without the use of language, with
longings for liberty and action. Here his disillusionment begins. His
nakedness shocks public morality; and the innocent Adam who is hostile
to nobody, and in whom the brilliant spectacle of nature produces
nothing but rejoicing, receives blows, stonings, and imprisonment from
his neighbors. Childlike he touches the bayonet of one of his captors,
and is wounded. This symbolizes the world's hostility to the innocent.
In Canto IV we find Adam in prison. His teachers are criminals. He was
born for good; society instructs him in evil. In Canto V he experiences
love with the _manola_ Salada, but sees in this passion nothing but
impurity. He longs for higher things. Circumstances abase him to crime.
He joins a band of burglars, and, falling in love with the lady whose
house they are pillaging, protects her against the gang. In Canto VI he
continues along his path of sorrow. He enters a house where a beautiful
girl is dying, while in another room revelers are making merry. This
leads him to speculate on life's mysteries and to reason for himself.
The poem ends where Adam has become thoroughly sophisticated. He is now
like any other man.
Evidently it was the poet's intention to make Adam go through a series
of adventures in various walks of life, everywhere experiencing
disillusionment. In spite of the elaborate prospectus quoted above,
we may agree with Piñeyro that the poet started writing with only the
haziest outline planned beforehand. Espronceda frankly reveals to us his
methods of poetic composition:
¡Oh cómo cansa el orden! no hay locura
Igual a la del lógico severo.
And again:
Terco escribo en mi loco desvarío
Sin ton ni són, y para gusto mío. . . .
Sin regla ni compás canta mi lira:
Sólo mi ardiente corazón me inspira!
"El Diablo Mundo" is no mere imitation of Byron's "Don Juan" and
Goethe's "Faust," though the influence of each is marked. It has
numerous merits and originalities of its own. Inferior as Espronceda
is to Byron in wit and to Goethe in depth, he can vie with either as a
harmonious versifier.
The philosophy of "El Diablo Mundo" is the commonplace pessimism of
Romanticism. The following excerpt shows how the author's skepticism
leads him to doubt his very doubts; hence his return to a questioning
acceptance of Christianity:
Las creencias que abandonas,
Los templos, las religiones
Que pasaron, y que luego
Por mentira reconoces,
¿Son quizá menos mentira
Que las que ahora te forges?
¿No serán tal vez verdades
Los que tú juzgas errores?
Canto II of "El Diablo Mundo" consists of the poem "A Teresa. Descansa
en Paz. " This has not the slightest connection with the rest of the
poem, and can only be understood as a separate unity. It is included
in the present collection because it is the supreme expression of our
poet's subjective method. As such it stands in excellent contrast to "El
Estudiante de Salamanca," which is purely objective. No reader knows
Espronceda who has read merely his objective poems. For self-revelation
"A Jarifa en una Orgía" alone may be compared with "A Teresa. " We may
agree with Escosura that Espronceda is here giving vent to his rancor
rather than to his grief, that it is the _menos hidalgo_ of all his
writings. But for once we may be sure that the poet is writing under the
stress of genuine emotion. For once he is free from posing.
"THE STUDENT OF SALAMANCA"
"El Estudiante de Salamanca" represents the synthesis of two well-known
Spanish legends, the Don Juan Tenorio legend and the Miguel Mañara
legend. The first of these may be briefly stated as follows: Don Juan
Tenorio was a young aristocrat of Seville famous for his dissolute life,
a gambler, blasphemer, duelist, and seducer of women. Among numerous
other victims, he deceives Doña Ana de Ulloa, daughter of the Comendador
de Ulloa. The latter challenges Don Juan to a duel, and falls. Later Don
Juan enters the church where the Commander lies buried and insults his
stone statue, after which he invites the statue to sup with him that
night. At midnight Don Juan and his friends are making merry when a
knock is heard at the door and the stone guest enters. Don Juan, who
does not lose his bravery even in the presence of the supernatural,
plays the host, maintaining his air of insulting banter. At the end of
the evening the guest departs, offering to repay the hospitality the
following night if Don Juan will visit his tomb at midnight. Though
friends try to dissuade him, Don Juan fearlessly accepts the invitation.
At the appointed hour he visits the tomb. Flames emerge from it, and Don
Juan pays the penalty of his misdeeds, dying without confession.
This is the outline of the story as told by Tirso de Molina in "El
Burlador de Sevilla o el Convidado de Piedra. " The same theme has been
treated by Molière, Goldoni, Mozart, Byron, and Zorrilla, to mention but
a few of the hundreds of writers who have utilized it. In the hands of
non-Spanish writers the character of Don Juan loses the greater part of
its essential nobility. To them Don Juan is the type of libertine and
little more. He was a prime favorite with those Romanticists who, like
Gautier, felt "Il est indécent et mauvais ton d'être vertueux. " But
as conceived in Spain Don Juan's libertinage is wholly subsidiary and
incidental. He is a superman whose soaring ambition mounts so high that
earth cannot satisfy it. The bravest may be permitted to falter in the
presence of the supernatural; but Don Juan fears neither heaven nor
hell. His bravery transcends all known standards, and this one virtue,
though it does not save him from hell, redeems him in popular esteem.
Don Félix de Montemar is the typical Don Juan type, a libertine,
gambler, blasphemer, heartless seducer, but superhumanly brave. Yet the
plot of Espronceda's poem bears closer resemblance to the story told of
Miguel Mañara.
Miguel Mañara (often erroneously spelled Maraña) Vicentelo de Leca
(1626-1679) was an alderman (_veintecuatro_) of Seville and a knight of
Calatrava. As a youth his character resembled that of Don Juan. One day
some hams sent to him from the country were intercepted by the customs.
He started out to punish the offending officers, but on the way repented
and thenceforth led a virtuous life. In 1661, after his wife's death,
he entered the Hermandad de la Caridad, later becoming superior of that
order. In his will he endowed the brotherhood with all his wealth and
requested that he be buried under the threshold of the chapel of San
Jorge. His sole epitaph was to be "Here repose the bones and ashes of
the worst man who ever existed in the world. " Don Miguel's biography was
written by his friend the Jesuit Juan de Cardeñas and was added to by
Diego López de Haro, "Breve relación de la muerte, de la vida y virtudes
de Don Miguel de Mañara," Seville, 1680.
There soon sprang up a legend around the name of Mañara. He is said
to have fallen in love with the statue on the Giralda tower. On one
occasion the devil gave him a light for his cigar, reaching across
the Guadalquivir to do so. Again, he pursued a woman into the very
cathedral, forcibly pulled aside her mantilla and discovered a skeleton.
Yet more surprising, he was present, when still alive, at his own
funeral in the Church of Santiago. But these stories associated with the
name of Mañara are much older than he. Antonio de Torquemada, "Jardín de
Flores Curiosas," Salamanca, 1570, tells of an unnamed knight who fell
in love with a nun. He enters her convent with false keys only to find a
funeral in progress. On inquiring the name of the deceased, he is told
that it is himself. He then runs home pursued by two devils in the form
of dogs who tear him to pieces after he has made pious repentance.
Cristóbal Bravo turned this story into verse, Toledo, 1572. One or other
of these versions appears to have been the source of Zorrilla's "El
Capitán Montoya. " Gaspar Cristóbal Lozano, "Soledades de la Vida y
Desengaños del Mundo" (Madrid, 1663), tells the same story, and is the
first to name hero and heroine, Lisardo and Teodora. Lozano, too, is the
first to make the male protagonist a Salamanca student. Lozano's version
inspired two ballads entitled "Lisardo el Estudiante de Córdova. " These
were reprinted by Durán, _Romancero general_, Vol. I, pp. 264-268, where
they are readily accessible.
This ballad of Lisardo the Student of Cordova was undoubtedly
Espronceda's main source in writing "The Student of Salamanca," and to
it he refers in line 2 with the words _antiguas historias cuentan_. Yet
the indebtedness was small. Espronceda took from the ballad merely the
idea of making the hero of the adventure a Salamanca student, and
the episode of a man witnessing his own funeral. Needless to say
Espronceda's finished versification owed nothing to the halting meter of
the original. Lisardo, a Salamanca student, though a native of Cordova,
falls in love with Teodora, sister of a friend, Claudio. Teodora is
soon to become a nun. One night he makes love to her and is only mildly
rebuked. But a ghostly swordsman warns him that he will be slain if he
does not desist. Nevertheless he continues his wooing in spite of the
fact that Teodora has become a nun. She agrees to elope. While on his
way to the convent to carry out this design, his attention is attracted
by a group of men attacking an individual. This individual proves to be
himself, Lisardo. Lisardo, then, witnesses his own murder and subsequent
funeral obsequies. This warning is too terrible not to heed. He gives
over his attempt at seduction and leads an exemplary life.
There are many other examples in the literature of Spain of the man who
sees his own funeral. Essentially the same story is told by Lope de
Vega, "El Vaso de Elección. San Pablo. " Bévotte thinks that Mérimée in
"Les Ames du purgatoire" was the first to combine the Don Juan and the
Miguel de Mañara legends, so closely alike in spirit, into a single
work. But Said Armesto finds this fusion already accomplished in a
seventeenth-century play, "El Niño Diablo. " Dumas owed much to Mérimée
in writing his allegorical play "Don Juan de Maraña," first acted April
30, 1836. This became immediately popular in Spain. A mutilated Spanish
version appeared, Tarragona, 1838, Imprenta de Chuliá. It is doubtful
whether Espronceda owes anything to either of these French works,
although both works contain gambling scenes very similar to that in
which Don Félix de Montemar intervened. In the Dumas play Don Juan
stakes his mistress in a game, as Don Félix did his mistress's portrait.
It seems likely that Espronceda derived his whole inspiration for this
scene from Moreto's "San Franco de Sena," which he quotes.
The legend of the man who sees his own funeral belongs to the realm of
folk-lore. Like superstitions are to be found wherever the Celtic race
has settled. In Spain they are especially prevalent in Galicia and
Asturias. There the _estantigua_ or "ancient enemy" appears to those
soon to die. These spirits, or _almas en pena_, appear wearing
winding-sheets, bearing candles, a cross, and a bier on which a corpse
is lying. Don Quijote in attacking the funeral procession probably
thought he had to do with the _estantigua_. Furthermore, Said Armesto in
his illuminating study "La Leyenda de Don Juan" proves that the custom
of saying requiem masses for the living was very ancient in Spain.
sings in the "Serenata. " According to Balbino Cortés in an interview
reported by Solís, Teresa and her husband, while on a visit to Paris in
October, 1831, happened to lodge at the hotel frequented by Espronceda.
Shortly afterwards Teresa deserted her husband and an infant son and
eloped with Espronceda. She followed him to Madrid in 1833, where
a daughter, Blanca, was born to them in 1834. Within a year Teresa
abandoned Espronceda and her second child. She sank into the gutter and
died a pauper in 1839. This sordid romance occupied only about three
years of Espronceda's life, a much shorter time than had been supposed.
Churchman was the first to break the long conspiracy of silence which
withheld from the world Teresa's full name. Cascales y Muñoz has since
thrown more light upon this episode. But these gentlemen have done
nothing more than to tell an open secret. Escosura, long ago, all but
betrayed it in the following pun: "Tendamos el velo de olvido sobre
esa lamentable flaqueza de un gran corazón," he says, referring to the
affair with Teresa, "y recordemos, de paso, que el sol mismo, ese astro
de luz soberano, tan sublimemente cantado por nuestro vate, _manchas_
tiene que si una parte de su esplendor anublan, a eclipsarlo no bastan. "
Señor Cascales publishes a reproduction of Teresa's portrait. We see
a face of a certain hard beauty. We are struck with the elaborate
coiffure, the high forehead, the long nose, the weak mouth. The
expression is unamiable. It is the face of a termagant ready to abandon
husband and child. Espronceda seems to have returned to England for a
brief period in 1832, as we may infer from the fact that the poem
"A Matilde" is dated London, 1832. Corroboration of this belief was
discovered by Churchman, who found that the paper on which "Blanca de
Borbón" was written shows the water-mark of an English firm of that
date.
In 1833 Ferdinand VII died, and his daughter Isabel II ascended to the
throne under the regency of her mother Cristina. As the conservatives
espoused the cause of the pretender, Don Carlos, the regency was forced
to favor the liberals. The rigid press censorship was abolished, and a
general amnesty was granted all the victims of Ferdinand's tyranny. In
politics the year 1833 marks the beginning of the Carlist war, and
in literature of Spanish Romanticism. Espronceda was one of many
_emigrados_ who returned to Spain, bringing with them new ideas for the
revitalizing of Spanish literature. He did not arrive soon enough to
see his aged father. Brigadier Espronceda's death certificate is dated
January 10, 1833.
Shortly after José's arrival he joined the fashionable Guardia de Corps
or royal guard regiment. This step, apparently so inconsistent with
his revolutionary activities, has puzzled all his biographers. But
Espronceda was only following the family tradition. His elder brother
had done the same. Doubtless he believed, in his first enthusiasm, that
Spain was now completely liberalized. Besides, he was a dandy always
eager for social distinction, and he had to live down the fact that his
mother was proprietress of an _establecimiento de coches_. The conduct
of his fellow-Numantino, Escosura, who had found it possible to accept
a commission under Ferdinand, is far more surprising. Espronceda's
snobbishness, if he had any, cannot have been extreme, for he took up
residence with his mother over the aforementioned livery stable, in the
Calle de San Miguel. Teresa was prudently lodged under another roof.
Doña Carmen was as indulgent as ever, and especially desirous that her
son dress in the most fashionable clothes procurable. What with her
rent from the house, her widow's pension, and the yield of her business
venture, she was comfortably circumstanced. When Teresa abandoned the
child Blanca, Doña Carmen became a mother to her. When Doña Carmen died
in 1840 everything went to her son.
Espronceda's career as a guardsman was brief. As a result of reading a
satirical poem at a public banquet, he was cashiered and banished to the
town of Cuéllar in Old Castile. There he wrote his "Sancho Saldaña o
el Castellano de Cuéllar," a historical novel in the manner of Walter
Scott, describing the quarrels of Sancho el Bravo with his father
Alfonso X. This six-volume work was contracted for in 1834 and completed
and published the same year. For writing it the author received six
thousand reales. Many writers in Spain were striving to rival the Wizard
of the North at this time. Ramón López Soler had set the fashion in
1830 with "Los Bandos de Castilla. " Larra's "Doncel de Don Enrique
el Doliente" appeared in the same year with "Sancho Saldaña. " But
Espronceda was probably most influenced by his friend Escosura, who had
printed his "Conde de Candespina" in 1832. The latter's best effort in
this genre, "Ni Rey ni Roque," 1835, was written when its author was
undergoing banishment for political reasons in a corner of Andalusia. To
employ the enforced leisure of political exile in writing a historical
novel was quite the proper thing to do. The banishment to Cuéllar must
have taken place in late 1833 or early 1834, for Espronceda's novel is
unquestionably inspired by his enforced visit to that town, and the
contract with his publisher is dated in Madrid, February 5, 1834. On
reading the contract it is apparent that the novel had hardly been begun
then, as it was to be paid for in installments. Whether it was written
mostly in Cuéllar or Madrid we do not know and care little. In January
of that year _El Siglo_ was founded, a radical journal with which
Espronceda was prominently connected. During the brief existence of this
incendiary sheet (January 21 until March 7) Espronceda contributed to it
several political articles. The last issue came out almost wholly blank
as an object lesson of the censor's activity. There follow a few
months of agitation and political intrigue, the upshot of which
was Espronceda's imprisonment for three weeks without trial. After
protesting in the press and appealing to the queen regent, he was
released and banished to Badajoz. How long he was absent from the
capital we do not know, except that this banishment, like the others,
was of short duration. During all this commotion there was produced at
the Teatro de la Cruz, in April, an indifferent play, "Ni el Tío ni el
Sobrino," whose authors were Espronceda and his friend Antonio Ros y
Olano. It is difficult to paint anything but a confused picture of
Espronceda's life during the remaining years of this decade. We catch
glimpses of him debating questions of art and politics at cafés and
literary _tertulias_ like the Parnasillo, where Mesonero Romanos saw him
faultlessly attired and "darting epigrams against everything existing,
past, and future. " Córdoba in his memoirs bears witness that he was
still the _buscarruidos_ of old. Espronceda with Larra, Escosura, Ros
De Olano, and Córdoba constituted the "Thunder Band" of the Parnasillo
(_partida del trueno_). After a long literary discussion they would
sally forth into the streets, each armed with a peashooter and on
mischief bent. A favorite prank was to tie a chestnut vender's table to
a waiting cab and then watch the commotion which followed when the cab
started to move. On one occasion, finding the Duke of Alba's coachman
asleep on the box, they painted the yellow coach red, so altering it
that the very owner failed to recognize it when he left the house where
he had been calling. In politics Espronceda is always a leader in
revolt, fighting with pen and sword for his none-too-clearly-defined
principles. Even the Mendizábal ministry, the most advanced that Spain
has ever had, does not satisfy him. His ideal is a republic and the
downfall of "the spurious race of Bourbon. " His love affairs are equally
stormy. In literature he is attempting everything, plays, a novel,
polemical articles, lyric poems, and one supreme work which is to be the
very epic of humanity.
In 1835 Espronceda became an officer in the National Militia. In August
of that year the militiamen were defeated in an unsuccessful revolt
against the Toreno ministry. In 1836 he was equally unfortunate in a
revolt against the Istúriz ministry. It was then, when pursued by the
police, that a friend secreted him in the safest possible place, the
home of a high police official. Espronceda employed his leisure hours in
this refuge by writing "El Mendigo" and "El Verdugo. " Two years later
he traveled extensively through Andalusia engaged in revolutionary
propaganda. He was probably trying to bring about a republican form of
government. In September, 1838, his play "Amor venga sus agravios,"
written in collaboration with Eugenio Moreno López, was produced at the
Teatro del Príncipe. Its success was moderate. The next year, while in
Granada, he and his friend Santos Álvarez were guests of honor at a
literary soirée. Espronceda's contribution was the reading of "El
Estudiante de Salamanca. " This poem was first printed, at least in part,
in _La Alhambra_ for 1839. The great political event of this year was
the ending of the first Carlist war. The victories of the national
troops were celebrated by a huge public demonstration in Madrid on the
national holiday, May 2, 1840. For this occasion Espronceda wrote his
patriotic poem "El Dos de Mayo. " Only three days later his volume of
"Poesías" was placed on sale, and, like Byron, he awoke to find himself
famous. His old teacher Lista wrote a favorable review. From then on
Espronceda was a man of note. The Madrid revolution of September 1
forced an unwilling regent to make Espartero, hero of the Carlist war,
prime minister. A radical sheet, _El Huracán_, was accused of attacking
Cristina and of advocating republicanism. Espronceda, though not a
lawyer, was chosen to defend the journal. This he did with complete
success. His speech has not come down to us, but we are told that in it
he appeared in the rôle of an uncompromising republican.
Nevertheless he was soon to compromise. He was now a man of mark, and
the liberal régime in power were not slow to see that it would be
advantageous to enlist his services. In November, 1841, he accepted an
appointment to serve as secretary to the Spanish legation at the Hague.
He served in this capacity exactly five days. Arriving at the Hague
on January 29, 1842, he departed for Madrid on February 3. A certain
Carrasco had been elected deputy of the province of Almería. He was now
urged to resign to make room for Espronceda. This he did, and Espronceda
was elected and served in his stead. Of course all this had been
prearranged. After his return he continued to hold his diplomatic
position and receive pay for it, a not very honorable course on the part
of one who pled so eloquently for the abolition of useless offices
and the reform of the diplomatic service. In this way the Espartero
government conciliated Espronceda with two offices. Henceforth his
republicanism was lukewarm. Escosura tells us that concern for his
daughter Blanca's financial future had rendered him prudent.
I am inclined to think that Espronceda's biographers underrate his
services in the Chamber of Deputies. The trouble is that in his rôle of
deputy their hero failed to justify preconceived notions regarding his
character. Those who looked for revolution in his speeches found only
sound finance. We seek in vain for anything subversive. There is nothing
suggestive of the lyric poet or even of the fiery defender of _El
Huracán_. As a poet he had praised the destructive fury of the Cossacks
who swept away decadent governments. In defending _El Huracán_ he had
used the word Cossack as a term of reproach, applying it to those
self-seeking politicians who were devouring the public funds. By this
time he had himself become a Cossack on a small scale. Yet we must do
him the justice to point out that he had had sufficient firmness of
principle to refuse office under Mendizábal, Istúriz, and the Duque de
Rivas. Fitzmaurice-Kelly is possibly going too far in intimating that
he was degenerating into a hidebound conservative and opportunist.
Something of the old reforming zeal survived. Though many
disillusionments may have rendered him less eager for a republican form
of government, his latest utterances show him zealous as ever for social
and economic reform. Espronceda's parliamentary career lasted less than
three months (March 1 to May 23, 1842). One can only wonder that in so
brief a time a man already stricken with a fatal illness should have
taken so able a part in an assembly in which he was a newcomer. Nor
should we complain that his speeches lack eloquence. It is fairer to
give him credit for not falling into the abuse of _palabrería_, the
besetting sin of most _diputados_.
His views were sober and sound. Travel had given him a wider
outlook than most of his colleagues possessed. He was the enemy of
_españolismo_, wanted his nation to take a prominent part in European
affairs, and no longer to lead the life of a hermit nation. But he is no
jingo. He speaks against the bill to add fifty thousand to the standing
army. Spain had passed through too many upheavals. What she needed to
make her a European power was tranquility and opportunity to develop
financial strength. Give the producing classes their long-awaited
innings. But he is bitter against the magnates of the bourse and those
politicians who legislate to produce an artificial rise in values. The
true policy is to better the condition of the masses, to encourage
agriculture and manufactures: even the construction of railways should
wait until there is first something to haul over them. But manufactures
should not be protected by a tariff. In his speech against the tariff
on cotton he shows himself an out and out free-trader. He praises the
English for their policy of free trade, enlightened self-interest he
deems it, which tends to make the world one large family. As a writer he
had inveighed against commercialism. But he now discerns a future where
commerce shall replace war. He was unable to foresee that in the future
trade was to be a chief cause of war.
That he was a ready debater is shown by his neat rejoinder to Deputy
Fontán. This gentleman had made sneering allusions to men of letters
who dabbled in diplomacy. Far from accepting the remark as a thrust at
himself, as it was intended, Espronceda resented it as an insult to the
then American minister Washington Irving, "novelist of the first
rank, known in Europe through his writings even more than through the
brilliancy of his diplomatic career. "
Espronceda's health had been failing for some months. It is said that
chronic throat trouble had so weakened his voice as to make his remarks
in the Cortés scarcely audible. On May 18, 1842, he journeyed on
horseback to Aranjuez to visit Doña Bernarda Beruete, a young lady to
whom he was then engaged. Hastily returning to Madrid on the afternoon
of the same day, so as not to miss a night session of the Cortés, he
contracted a cold which soon turned into a fatal bronchitis. Others say
he was taken ill at a reception given by Espartero. He died May 23,
1842, at the early age of 34. He was honored with a public funeral in
keeping with his position as deputy and distinguished man of letters.
His first place of burial was the cemetery of San Nicolás; but in 1902
his remains, together with those of Larra, were exhumed and reburied in
the Pantheon for Distinguished Men of the Nineteenth Century, situated
in the Patio de Santa Gertrudis in the Cementerio de la Sacramental de
San Justo.
In forming our estimate of the man, we must carefully distinguish
between the Espronceda of legend and the Espronceda of fact; for a
legend sprang up during his own lifetime, largely the result of his own
self-defamation. Like many other Romanticists, Espronceda affected a
reputation for diabolism. He loved to startle the bourgeois, to pose as
atheist, rake, deposer of tyrants. Escosura sums up this aspect of his
character by branding him "a hypocrite of vice. " Many have been led
astray by Ferrer del Río's statement that in drawing the character of
the seducer, Don Félix de Montemar, Espronceda was painting his own
portrait. Such criticism would have delighted Espronceda, but the
imputation was indignantly denied by his close friend Escosura. Modern
critics are careful to avoid this extreme; but, in the delight of
supporting a paradox, some are disposed to go too far in the opposite
direction. Señor Cascales, for instance, is unconvincing when he seeks
to exonerate Espronceda from all blame in the Teresa episode. Like the
devil, Espronceda was not so black as he was painted, not so black as
he painted himself; but he was far from being a Joseph. It is easy to
minimize the importance of the part he played in the national militia.
Doubtless much of his plotting was puerile and melodramatic. His
activities as a revolutionist cannot have greatly affected the course of
events. But it is unfair to deny him credit for constant willingness
to risk his life in any cause which seemed noble. That his conduct was
inconsistent merely proves that he followed no calmly reasoned political
system. He reflects in his conduct the heated sentiment of the time,
varying as it did from day to day. He sometimes compromised with his
ideals, his sense of honor was not always of the highest, but he never
seems to have grown lukewarm in his desire to serve the people. He is
a liberal to the last, a liberal with notions of political economy and
English constitutional practice. His quarrel with the church seems to
have been political rather than theological. He hated the friars and the
church's alliance with Carlism. That the last rites were administered to
him shows that he died a professing Catholic. In appearance Espronceda
was handsome, if somewhat too effeminate-looking to suggest the
fire-eater. He never cultivated slovenliness of attire like most
members of the Romantic school; on the contrary, he was the leading
representative in Spain of dandyism. To sum up, Espronceda's was a
tempestuous and very imperfect character. "Siempre fuí el juego de mis
pasiones," is his own self-analysis. The best that can be said of him
is that he was a warm, affectionate nature, generous, charitable to the
poor, a loyal friend, and one actuated by noble, if sometimes mistaken,
ideals. Years afterward, when Escosura passed in review the little
circle of the Colegio de San Mateo, Espronceda was the only one of them
whom he could truly say he loved.
THE WORKS OF ESPRONCEDA
Of all the Spanish poets of the period of Romanticism, Espronceda is the
most commanding figure. Piñeyro, adopting Emerson's phrase, calls him
the Representative Man of that age of literary and political revolt.
More than that, criticism is unanimous in considering him Spain's
greatest lyric poet of the nineteenth century.
First of all he interests as the poet of democracy. The Romantic poets
were no more zealous seekers for political liberalism than the
classic poets of the previous generation had been; but their greater
subjectivity and freedom of expression rendered their appeal more
vigorous. Espronceda's hatred for absolutism was so intense that in
moments of excitement he became almost anti-social. The pirate, the
beggar, the Cossack, were his heroes. The love of this dandy for the
lower classes cannot be dismissed as mere pose. He keenly sympathized
with the oppressed, and felt that wholesale destruction must precede
the work of construction. We look in vain for a reasoned political
philosophy in his volcanic verse. His outpourings were inspired by the
irresponsible ravings of groups of café radicals, and the point of view
constantly changed as public sentiment veered. According to his lights
he is always a patriot. Liberty and democracy are his chief desires.
Like most Romanticists, Espronceda was intensely subjective. He
interests by his frank display of his inner moods. Bonilla, in his
illuminating article "El Pensamiento de Espronceda," states that the
four essential points in the philosophy of Romanticism were: doubt,
the first principle of thought; sorrow, the positive reality of life;
pleasure, the world's illusion; death, the negation of the will to live.
Espronceda shared all of these ideas. It is often impossible to say how
much of his suffering is a mere Byronic pose, and how much comes from
the reaction of an intensely sensitive nature to the hard facts of
existence. There is evidence that he never lost the zest of living;
but in his writings he appears as one who has been completely
disillusionized by literature, love, politics, and every experience
of life. Truth is the greatest of evils, because truth is always sad;
"mentira," on the other hand, is merciful and kind. He carries doubt so
far that he doubts his very doubts. Such a philosophy should logically
lead to quietism. That pessimism did not in the case of Espronceda
bring inaction makes one suspect that it was largely affected. There is
nothing profound in this very commonplace philosophy of despair.
It is
the conventional attitude of hosts of Romanticists who did little
but re-echo the _Vanitas vanitatum_ of the author of Ecclesiastes.
Espronceda's thought is too shallow to entitle him to rank high as a
philosophic poet. In this respect he is inferior even to Campoamor
and Núñez de Arce. Genuine world-weariness is the outgrowth of a more
complex civilization than that of Spain. Far from being a Leopardi,
Espronceda may nevertheless be considered the leading Spanish exponent
of the _taedium vitae_. He has eloquently expressed this commonplace and
conventional attitude of mind.
Like so many other writers of the Latin race, Espronceda is more
admirable for the form in which he clothed his thoughts than for those
thoughts themselves. He wrote little and carefully. He is remarkable for
his virtuosity, his harmonious handling of the most varied meters. He
never, like Zorrilla, produces the effect of careless improvisation. In
the matter of poetic form Espronceda has been the chief inspiration of
Spanish poets down to the advent of Rubén Darío. Fitzmaurice-Kelly, with
his happy knack of hitting off an author's characteristics in a phrase,
says: "He still stirs us with his elemental force, his resonant musical
potency of phrase, his communicative ardor for noble causes. "
Much harm has been done Espronceda's reputation for originality by those
critics who fastened upon him the name of "the Spanish Byron. " Nothing
could be more unjust than to consider him the slavish imitator of a
single author. In literature, as in love, there is safety in numbers,
and the writer who was influenced by Calderón, Tasso, Milton, Goethe,
Béranger, Hugo, Shakespeare, and Scott was no mere satellite to Byron.
Señor Cascales is so sensitive on the point that he is scarcely willing
to admit that Byron exerted any influence whatsoever upon Espronceda.
The truth is that Byron did influence Espronceda profoundly, as
Churchman has sufficiently proved by citing many instances of borrowings
from the English poet, where resemblance in matters of detail is wholly
conclusive; but it is another matter to assert that Espronceda was
always Byronic or had no originality of his own.
In considering Espronceda's writings in detail, we need concern
ourselves little with his dramatic and prose writings. The quickest road
to literary celebrity was the writing of a successful play. Espronceda
seems never to have completely relinquished the hope of achieving such a
success. His first attempt was a three-act verse comedy, "Ni el Tío ni
el Sobrino" (1834), written in collaboration with Antonio Ros de Olano.
Larra censured it for its insipidity and lack of plan. A more ambitious
effort was "Amor venga sus agravios" (1838), written in collaboration
with Eugenio Moreno López. This was a five-act costume play, in prose,
portraying the life at the court of Philip IV. It was produced without
regard to expense, but with indifferent success. Espronceda's most
ambitious play was never staged, and has only recently become easily
accessible: this was "Blanca de Borbón," a historical drama of the times
of Peter the Cruel in five acts, in verse. The first two acts were
written in Espronceda's early Classic manner; the last three, written
at a later period, are Romantic in tone. The influence of "Macbeth" is
apparent. "Blanca de Borbón" could never be a success on the stage. The
verse, too, is not worthy of the author. Espronceda was too impetuous
a writer to comply with the restrictions of dramatic technique. The
dramatic passages in "El Estudiante de Salamanca" and "El Diablo Mundo"
are his best compositions in dialogue.
"Sancho Saldaña" is Espronceda's most important prose work. It is a
historical novel of the thirteenth century, written frankly in imitation
of Walter Scott's Waverley Novels. The romance contains many tiresome
descriptions of scenery, and drags along tediously as most old-fashioned
novels did. But Espronceda had none of Sir Walter's archaeological
erudition, none of his ability to seize the characteristics of an epoch,
and above all none of his skill as a creator of interesting characters.
The personages in "Sancho Saldaña" fail to interest. The most that can
be said of the work is that among the numerous imitations of Scott's
novels which appeared at the time it is neither the best nor the worst.
Of his shorter prose works only two, "De Gibraltar a Lisboa, viaje
histórico" and "Un Recuerdo," are easily accessible. They are vivid
portrayals of certain episodes of his exile, and may still be read
with interest. His most important polemical work is "El Ministerio
Mendizábal" (Madrid, 1836). In this screed we find the fiery radical
attacking as unsatisfactory the ultra-liberal Mendizábal. This and
shorter political articles interest the historian and the biographer,
but hardly count as literature. His rare attempts at literary criticism
have even less value.
Espronceda shows true greatness only as a lyric poet. For spirit and
perfection of form what could be more perfect than the "Canción del
Pirata"? Like Byron in the "Corsair," he extols the lawless liberty of
the buccaneer. Byron was here his inspiration rather than Hugo. The
"Chanson de Pirates" cannot stand comparison with either work. But
Espronceda's indebtedness to Byron was in this case very slight. He
has made the theme completely his own. "El Mendigo" and "El Canto del
Cosaco," both anarchistic in sentiment, were inspired by Béranger. Once
more Espronceda has improved upon his models, "Les Gueux" and "Le Chant
du Cosaque. " Compare Espronceda's refrain in the "Cossack Song" with
Béranger's in the work which suggested it:
¡Hurra, Cosacos del desierto! ¡Hurra!
La Europa os brinda espléndido botín
Sangrienta charca sus campiñas sean,
De los grajos su ejército festín.
Hennis d'orgueil, o mon coursier fidèle!
Et foule aux pieds les peuples et les rois.
The "Canto del Cosaco" was a prime favorite with the revolutionary youth
of Spain, who thundered out the "hurras" with telling effect. "El Reo de
Muerte" and "El Verdugo" are in a similar vein, though much inferior.
"Serenata," "A la Noche," "El Pescador" (reminiscent of Goethe), "A una
Estrella," and "A una Rosa, soneto" are lighter works. They make up in
grace what they lack in vigor. "El Himno al Sol" is the most perfect
example of Espronceda's Classic manner, and is rightly considered one of
his masterpieces. It challenges comparison with the Duque de Rivas' very
similar poem. Of the numerous patriotic poems "Al Dos de Mayo" and "A
la Patria" deserve especial mention. He attempted satire in "El Pastor
Clasiquino," recently reprinted by Le Gentil from "El Artista. " In
this poem he assails academic poetry like that produced by his old
fellow-academicians of the Myrtle. It betrays the peevishness of a
Romanticist writing when Romanticism was already on the wane.
"El Diablo Mundo," Espronceda's most ambitious work, is commonly
considered his masterpiece; an unfinished masterpiece, however. Even
if death had spared him, it is doubtful if he could have finished so
all-embracing a theme as he proposed:
Nada menos te ofrezco que un poema
Con lances raros y revuelto asunto,
De nuestro mundo y sociedad emblema. . . .
Fiel traslado ha de ser, cierto trasunto
De la vida del hombre y la quimera
Tras de que va la humanidad entera.
Batallas, tempestades, amoríos,
Por mar y tierra, lances, descripciones
De campos y ciudades, desafíos,
Y el desastre y furor de las pasiones,
Goces, dichas, aciertos, desvaríos,
Con algunas morales reflexiones
Acerca de la vida y de la muerte,
De mi propia cosecha, que es mi fuerte.
Adam, hero of the epic, is introduced in Canto I as an aged scholar
disillusioned with life, but dreading the proximity of Death, with whom
he converses in a vision. The Goddess of Life grants him the youth of
Faust and the immortality of the Wandering Jew. Unlike either, he has
the physical and mental characteristics of an adult joined to the
naïveté of a child. In Canto III Adam appears in a _casa de huéspedes_,
naked and poor, oblivious of the past, without the use of language, with
longings for liberty and action. Here his disillusionment begins. His
nakedness shocks public morality; and the innocent Adam who is hostile
to nobody, and in whom the brilliant spectacle of nature produces
nothing but rejoicing, receives blows, stonings, and imprisonment from
his neighbors. Childlike he touches the bayonet of one of his captors,
and is wounded. This symbolizes the world's hostility to the innocent.
In Canto IV we find Adam in prison. His teachers are criminals. He was
born for good; society instructs him in evil. In Canto V he experiences
love with the _manola_ Salada, but sees in this passion nothing but
impurity. He longs for higher things. Circumstances abase him to crime.
He joins a band of burglars, and, falling in love with the lady whose
house they are pillaging, protects her against the gang. In Canto VI he
continues along his path of sorrow. He enters a house where a beautiful
girl is dying, while in another room revelers are making merry. This
leads him to speculate on life's mysteries and to reason for himself.
The poem ends where Adam has become thoroughly sophisticated. He is now
like any other man.
Evidently it was the poet's intention to make Adam go through a series
of adventures in various walks of life, everywhere experiencing
disillusionment. In spite of the elaborate prospectus quoted above,
we may agree with Piñeyro that the poet started writing with only the
haziest outline planned beforehand. Espronceda frankly reveals to us his
methods of poetic composition:
¡Oh cómo cansa el orden! no hay locura
Igual a la del lógico severo.
And again:
Terco escribo en mi loco desvarío
Sin ton ni són, y para gusto mío. . . .
Sin regla ni compás canta mi lira:
Sólo mi ardiente corazón me inspira!
"El Diablo Mundo" is no mere imitation of Byron's "Don Juan" and
Goethe's "Faust," though the influence of each is marked. It has
numerous merits and originalities of its own. Inferior as Espronceda
is to Byron in wit and to Goethe in depth, he can vie with either as a
harmonious versifier.
The philosophy of "El Diablo Mundo" is the commonplace pessimism of
Romanticism. The following excerpt shows how the author's skepticism
leads him to doubt his very doubts; hence his return to a questioning
acceptance of Christianity:
Las creencias que abandonas,
Los templos, las religiones
Que pasaron, y que luego
Por mentira reconoces,
¿Son quizá menos mentira
Que las que ahora te forges?
¿No serán tal vez verdades
Los que tú juzgas errores?
Canto II of "El Diablo Mundo" consists of the poem "A Teresa. Descansa
en Paz. " This has not the slightest connection with the rest of the
poem, and can only be understood as a separate unity. It is included
in the present collection because it is the supreme expression of our
poet's subjective method. As such it stands in excellent contrast to "El
Estudiante de Salamanca," which is purely objective. No reader knows
Espronceda who has read merely his objective poems. For self-revelation
"A Jarifa en una Orgía" alone may be compared with "A Teresa. " We may
agree with Escosura that Espronceda is here giving vent to his rancor
rather than to his grief, that it is the _menos hidalgo_ of all his
writings. But for once we may be sure that the poet is writing under the
stress of genuine emotion. For once he is free from posing.
"THE STUDENT OF SALAMANCA"
"El Estudiante de Salamanca" represents the synthesis of two well-known
Spanish legends, the Don Juan Tenorio legend and the Miguel Mañara
legend. The first of these may be briefly stated as follows: Don Juan
Tenorio was a young aristocrat of Seville famous for his dissolute life,
a gambler, blasphemer, duelist, and seducer of women. Among numerous
other victims, he deceives Doña Ana de Ulloa, daughter of the Comendador
de Ulloa. The latter challenges Don Juan to a duel, and falls. Later Don
Juan enters the church where the Commander lies buried and insults his
stone statue, after which he invites the statue to sup with him that
night. At midnight Don Juan and his friends are making merry when a
knock is heard at the door and the stone guest enters. Don Juan, who
does not lose his bravery even in the presence of the supernatural,
plays the host, maintaining his air of insulting banter. At the end of
the evening the guest departs, offering to repay the hospitality the
following night if Don Juan will visit his tomb at midnight. Though
friends try to dissuade him, Don Juan fearlessly accepts the invitation.
At the appointed hour he visits the tomb. Flames emerge from it, and Don
Juan pays the penalty of his misdeeds, dying without confession.
This is the outline of the story as told by Tirso de Molina in "El
Burlador de Sevilla o el Convidado de Piedra. " The same theme has been
treated by Molière, Goldoni, Mozart, Byron, and Zorrilla, to mention but
a few of the hundreds of writers who have utilized it. In the hands of
non-Spanish writers the character of Don Juan loses the greater part of
its essential nobility. To them Don Juan is the type of libertine and
little more. He was a prime favorite with those Romanticists who, like
Gautier, felt "Il est indécent et mauvais ton d'être vertueux. " But
as conceived in Spain Don Juan's libertinage is wholly subsidiary and
incidental. He is a superman whose soaring ambition mounts so high that
earth cannot satisfy it. The bravest may be permitted to falter in the
presence of the supernatural; but Don Juan fears neither heaven nor
hell. His bravery transcends all known standards, and this one virtue,
though it does not save him from hell, redeems him in popular esteem.
Don Félix de Montemar is the typical Don Juan type, a libertine,
gambler, blasphemer, heartless seducer, but superhumanly brave. Yet the
plot of Espronceda's poem bears closer resemblance to the story told of
Miguel Mañara.
Miguel Mañara (often erroneously spelled Maraña) Vicentelo de Leca
(1626-1679) was an alderman (_veintecuatro_) of Seville and a knight of
Calatrava. As a youth his character resembled that of Don Juan. One day
some hams sent to him from the country were intercepted by the customs.
He started out to punish the offending officers, but on the way repented
and thenceforth led a virtuous life. In 1661, after his wife's death,
he entered the Hermandad de la Caridad, later becoming superior of that
order. In his will he endowed the brotherhood with all his wealth and
requested that he be buried under the threshold of the chapel of San
Jorge. His sole epitaph was to be "Here repose the bones and ashes of
the worst man who ever existed in the world. " Don Miguel's biography was
written by his friend the Jesuit Juan de Cardeñas and was added to by
Diego López de Haro, "Breve relación de la muerte, de la vida y virtudes
de Don Miguel de Mañara," Seville, 1680.
There soon sprang up a legend around the name of Mañara. He is said
to have fallen in love with the statue on the Giralda tower. On one
occasion the devil gave him a light for his cigar, reaching across
the Guadalquivir to do so. Again, he pursued a woman into the very
cathedral, forcibly pulled aside her mantilla and discovered a skeleton.
Yet more surprising, he was present, when still alive, at his own
funeral in the Church of Santiago. But these stories associated with the
name of Mañara are much older than he. Antonio de Torquemada, "Jardín de
Flores Curiosas," Salamanca, 1570, tells of an unnamed knight who fell
in love with a nun. He enters her convent with false keys only to find a
funeral in progress. On inquiring the name of the deceased, he is told
that it is himself. He then runs home pursued by two devils in the form
of dogs who tear him to pieces after he has made pious repentance.
Cristóbal Bravo turned this story into verse, Toledo, 1572. One or other
of these versions appears to have been the source of Zorrilla's "El
Capitán Montoya. " Gaspar Cristóbal Lozano, "Soledades de la Vida y
Desengaños del Mundo" (Madrid, 1663), tells the same story, and is the
first to name hero and heroine, Lisardo and Teodora. Lozano, too, is the
first to make the male protagonist a Salamanca student. Lozano's version
inspired two ballads entitled "Lisardo el Estudiante de Córdova. " These
were reprinted by Durán, _Romancero general_, Vol. I, pp. 264-268, where
they are readily accessible.
This ballad of Lisardo the Student of Cordova was undoubtedly
Espronceda's main source in writing "The Student of Salamanca," and to
it he refers in line 2 with the words _antiguas historias cuentan_. Yet
the indebtedness was small. Espronceda took from the ballad merely the
idea of making the hero of the adventure a Salamanca student, and
the episode of a man witnessing his own funeral. Needless to say
Espronceda's finished versification owed nothing to the halting meter of
the original. Lisardo, a Salamanca student, though a native of Cordova,
falls in love with Teodora, sister of a friend, Claudio. Teodora is
soon to become a nun. One night he makes love to her and is only mildly
rebuked. But a ghostly swordsman warns him that he will be slain if he
does not desist. Nevertheless he continues his wooing in spite of the
fact that Teodora has become a nun. She agrees to elope. While on his
way to the convent to carry out this design, his attention is attracted
by a group of men attacking an individual. This individual proves to be
himself, Lisardo. Lisardo, then, witnesses his own murder and subsequent
funeral obsequies. This warning is too terrible not to heed. He gives
over his attempt at seduction and leads an exemplary life.
There are many other examples in the literature of Spain of the man who
sees his own funeral. Essentially the same story is told by Lope de
Vega, "El Vaso de Elección. San Pablo. " Bévotte thinks that Mérimée in
"Les Ames du purgatoire" was the first to combine the Don Juan and the
Miguel de Mañara legends, so closely alike in spirit, into a single
work. But Said Armesto finds this fusion already accomplished in a
seventeenth-century play, "El Niño Diablo. " Dumas owed much to Mérimée
in writing his allegorical play "Don Juan de Maraña," first acted April
30, 1836. This became immediately popular in Spain. A mutilated Spanish
version appeared, Tarragona, 1838, Imprenta de Chuliá. It is doubtful
whether Espronceda owes anything to either of these French works,
although both works contain gambling scenes very similar to that in
which Don Félix de Montemar intervened. In the Dumas play Don Juan
stakes his mistress in a game, as Don Félix did his mistress's portrait.
It seems likely that Espronceda derived his whole inspiration for this
scene from Moreto's "San Franco de Sena," which he quotes.
The legend of the man who sees his own funeral belongs to the realm of
folk-lore. Like superstitions are to be found wherever the Celtic race
has settled. In Spain they are especially prevalent in Galicia and
Asturias. There the _estantigua_ or "ancient enemy" appears to those
soon to die. These spirits, or _almas en pena_, appear wearing
winding-sheets, bearing candles, a cross, and a bier on which a corpse
is lying. Don Quijote in attacking the funeral procession probably
thought he had to do with the _estantigua_. Furthermore, Said Armesto in
his illuminating study "La Leyenda de Don Juan" proves that the custom
of saying requiem masses for the living was very ancient in Spain.
