No More Learning

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. One
recalls, too, how Charles V in his retirement at Yuste rehearsed his own
funeral, actually entering the coffin while mass was being said.

Of all Espronceda's poems "El Estudiante de Salamanca" is the most
popular. It has a unity and completeness lacking in both the "Pelayo"
and "El Diablo Mundo. " Every poet of the time was busy composing
_leyendas_. Espronceda attempted this literary form but once, yet of
all the numerous "legends" written in Spain this is the most fitted
to survive. Nowhere else has the poet shown equal virtuosity in the
handling of unusual meters. Nowhere among his works is there greater
variety or harmony of verse. Though not the most serious, this is the
most pleasing of his poems. Espronceda follows the Horatian precept
of starting his story "in the middle of things. " In the first part he
creates the atmosphere of the uncanny, introduces the more important
characters, and presents a striking situation. Part Second, the most
admired, is elegiac in nature. It pleases by its simple melancholy. This
part and the dramatic tableau of Part Three explain the cause of the
duel with which Part One begins. Part Four resumes the thread of the
narration where it was broken off in Part One, and ends with the Dance
of Death which forms the climax of the whole. The character of Don Félix
de Montemar is vigorously drawn. Originality cannot be claimed for it,
as it is the conventional Don Juan Tenorio type. The character of Doña
Elvira hardly merits the high praise of Spanish critics. She is
a composite portrait of Ophelia, Marguerite, and two of Byron's
characters, Doña Julia and Haidée, a shadowy, unreal creation, as
ghostly in life as in death. "The Student of Salamanca" tells a story
vigorously and sweetly. It does not abound in quotable passages like the
"Diablo Mundo. " It is neither philosophic nor introspective. It teaches
no lesson. Its merit is its perfection of form.


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

The best biography of Espronceda is that of José Cascales y Muñoz, "D.
José de Espronceda, su época, su vida y sus obras," Madrid, 1914. This
is an expansion of the same author's "Apuntes y Materiales para la
Biografía de Espronceda," _Revue hispanique_, Vol. XXIII, pp. 5-108. See
also a shorter article by the same author in _La España Moderna_, Vol.
CCXXXIV, pp. 27-48. Less critical, but useful, is Antonio Cortón,
"Espronceda," Madrid, 1906. The very uncritical book by E. Rodríguez
Solís, "Espronceda: su tiempo, su vida y sus obras," Madrid, 1883, is
chiefly valuable now as the best source for Espronceda's parliamentary
speeches. J. Fitzmaurice-Kelly's "Espronceda," _The Modern Language
Review_, Vol. IV, pp, 20-39, is admirable as a biography and a
criticism, though partially superseded by later works containing the
results of new discoveries. P. H. Churchman, "Byron and Espronceda,"
_Revue hispanique_, Vol. XX, pp. 5-210, gives a short biography, though
the study is in the main a penetrating investigation of Espronceda's
sources. E. Piñeyro has written two articles on Espronceda: "Poetas
Famosos del Siglo XIX," Madrid, 1883, and "El Romanticismo en España,"
Paris, 1904. This last was first printed in the _Bulletin hispanique_
for 1903. The older biography of D. A. Ferrer del Río, "Galería de la
Literatura," Madrid, 1846, still has a certain value; but the most
important source for Espronceda's youthful adventures is "El Discurso
del Excmo. Señor D. Patricio de la Escosura, individuo de número de la
Academia Española, leído ante esta corporación en la sesión pública
inaugural de 1870," Madrid, 1870. This matter is expanded in five
very important articles which appeared in "La Ilustración Española y
Americana" for 1876 (February 8, February 22, June 22, July 8, September
22), partially reproduced in the book of Cascales y Muñoz. See also
López Núñez, "José de Espronceda, Biografía Anecdótica," Madrid, 1917
and A. Donoso, "La Juventud de Espronceda," _Revista Chilena_, July,
1917. The best study of Espronceda's philosophy is Bonilla y San
Martín's, "El Pensamiento de Espronceda," _La España Moderna_, Vol.
CCXXXIV.
For a recent short article see Cejador y Frauca, "Historia de
la Lengua y Literatura Castellana," VII, Madrid, 1917, PP. 177-185.

The best bibliography of Espronceda's writings is that of Churchman, "An
Espronceda Bibliography," _Revue hispanique_, XVII, pp. 741-777. This
should be supplemented by reference to Georges Le Gentil, "Les Revues
littéraires de l'Espagne pendant la première moitié du XIXe siècle,"
Paris, 1909. The least bad edition of Espronceda's poems is "Obras
Poéticas y Escritos en Prosa," Madrid, 1884. (The second volume, which
was to contain the prose writings, never appeared. ) See also the "Obras
Poéticas de Espronceda," Valladolid, 1900, and "Espronceda," Barcelona,
1906. Also "Páginas Olvidadas de Espronceda," Madrid, 1873. There has
been a recent reprint of "Sancho Saldaña," Madrid, 1914, Repullés.
Churchman has published "Blanca de Borbón," _Revue hispanique_, Vol.
XVII, and also "More Inedita" in the same volume. There is said to be
an English translation of "The Student of Salamanca," London, 1847. An
excellent French version is that of R. Foulché-Delbosc, "L'Étudiant de
Salamanque," Paris, 1893. Mary J. Serrano has made splendid translations
of "The Pirate" and "To Spain: An Elegy," Warner's Library of the
World's Best Literature, Vol. XIV.

For a very full treatment and bibliography of the Don Juan Tenorio
legend see G. G. de Bévotte, "La Légende de Don Juan," Paris, 1911.
Also Farinelli, _Giornale Storico_, XXVII, and "Homenaje a Menéndez
y Pelayo," Vol. I, p. 295; A. L. Stiefel, _Jahresberichte für neuere
deutsche Litteraturgeschichte_, 1898-1899, Vol. I, 7, pp. 74-79.


NOTES ON ESPRONCEDA'S VERSIFICATION


GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS

To enjoy the work of so musical an artist as Espronceda, the student
must be able to read his verse in the original. This cannot be done
without some knowledge of the rules which govern the writing of Spanish
poetry. It therefore becomes necessary to give some account of the
elementary principles of Spanish prosody. This is not the place for a
complete treatment of the subject: only so much will be attempted as is
necessary for the intelligent comprehension of our author's writings. A
knowledge of English prosody will hinder rather than help the student;
for the Spanish poet obeys very different laws from those which govern
the writer of English verse.

The two essentials of Spanish poetry are (1) a fixed number of syllables
in each verse (by verse we mean a single line of poetry); (2) a
rhythmical arrangement of the syllables within the verse. Rime and
assonance are hardly less important, but are not strictly speaking
essential.

SYLLABLE-COUNTING

FINAL SYLLABLES

When a verse is stressed on the final syllable, it is called a _verso
agudo_ or masculine verse.

When a verse is stressed on the next to the last syllable, it is called
a _verso llano_ or feminine verse.

When a verse is stressed on the second from the last syllable, the
antepenult, it is called a _verso esdrújulo_.

For the sake of convenience, the _verso llano_ is considered the normal
verse. Thus, in an eight-syllable verse of this type the final stress
always falls on the seventh syllable, in a six- syllable verse on the
fifth syllable, etc. , always one short of the last. In the case of the
_verso agudo_, where the final stress falls on the final syllable, a
verse having actually seven syllables would nevertheless be counted as
having eight. One syllable is always added in counting the syllables of
a _verso agudo_, and, contrariwise, one is always subtracted from the
total number of actual syllables in a _verso esdrújulo_. These three
kinds of verses are frequently used together in the same strophe
(_copla_ or stanza) and held to be of equal length. Thus:

Turbios sus ojos,
Sus graves párpados
Flojos caer.

Theoretically these are all five-syllable verses. The first is a _verso
llano_, the normal verse. It alone has five syllables. The second is a
_verso esdrújulo_. It actually has six syllables, but theoretically is
held to have five. The third is a _verso agudo_. It actually has but
four syllables, but in theory is designated a five-syllable verse. All
three verses agree in having the final stress fall upon the fourth
syllable.

It would be simpler if, following the French custom, nothing after the
final stress were counted; but Spaniards prefer to consider normal
the verse of average length. It follows from this definition that a
monosyllabic verse is an impossibility in Spanish. Espronceda writes:

Leve,
Breve
Són.

He is not here dropping from dissyllabic to monosyllabic verse, but the
last verse too must be considered a line of two syllables.

Espronceda never uses a measure of more than twelve syllables in the
selections included in this book. Serious poets never attempt anything
longer than a verse of sixteen syllables.

DIPHTHONGIZATION

Spanish vowels are divided into two classes: the strong vowels, _a_,
_o_, _e_, and the weak vowels, _u_, _i_. According to the Academy rules,
followed by most grammarians, there can be no diphthongization of two
strong vowels in the proper pronunciation of prose; only when a strong
unites with a weak or two weaks unite can diphthongization take place.
In verse, on the other hand, diphthongization of two strong vowels is
not only allowable but common. This would probably not be the case if
the same thing did not have considerable justification in colloquial
practice. As a matter of fact we frequently hear _ahora_ pronounced
_áora_ with diphthongization and shift of stress.

Of the three strong vowels, _a_ is "dominant" over _o_ and _e_; _o_ is
dominant over _e_; and any one of the three is dominant over _u_ or _i_.
A dominant vowel is one which has the power of attracting to itself the
stress which, except for diphthongization, would fall on the other
vowel with which it unites. The vowel losing the stress is called the
"absorbed" vowel. This principle, which we find exemplified in the
earliest poetic monuments of the language, must be thoroughly understood
by the student of modern Spanish verse.

SYNERESIS

Syneresis is the uniting of two or three vowels, each of which is
ordinarily possessed of full syllabic value, into a diphthong or a
triphthong, thereby reducing the number of syllables in the word; _h_
does not interfere with syneresis. Thus, _aérea_ is normally a word of
four syllables. In this verse it counts as three.

Mística y aérea dudosa visión (12)

(The numbers in parentheses indicate the syllables in the verse.
Remember that the figure represents the theoretical number of syllables
in the line, and indicates the actual number only in the case of
the _verso llano_. Furthermore, the figure has been determined by a
comparison with adjacent lines in the same stanzas, verses which offer
no metrical difficulties. ) So likewise in:

Y en aérea fantástica danza (10)

In the following we have double syneresis, and the word has but two
syllables:

Aerea como dorada mariposa (11)

Examples of syneresis after the tonic stress:

Rechinan girando las férreas veletas (12)
Todos atropellándoos en montón (11)
Palpa en torno de sí, y el impio jura (11)

_Impio_, usually _impío_, is one of a number of words admitting of two
stresses. Such are called words of double accentuation. The principle is
different from that governing the stress-shift explained above. The word
has its ordinary value in the following:

«Bienvenida la luz,» dijo el impío (11)

Examples of syneresis before the tonic stress:

Se siente con sus lágrimas ahogar (11)
Tu pecho de roedor remordimiento (11)
¡Ay! El que la triste realidad palpó! (12)
Toda la sangre coagulada envía (11)
¿Quién en su propia sangre los ahogó? (11)
Tanto delirio a realizar alcanza (11)
Ahogar me siento en infernal tortura (11)

Examples of syneresis under stress:

El blanco ropaje que ondeante se ve (12)
Las piedras con las piedras se golpearon (11)
Ahora adelante? » Dijo, y en seguida (11)

In the first two examples there is no stress-shift. In the third, the
stress travels from the _o_ of _Ahora_ to the initial _a_. In the
following example _ahora_ has three syllables:

Será más tarde que ahora (8)

The rule regarding syneresis under stress is that it is allowable, with
or without resulting stress-shift, except when the combinations _éa_,
_éo_, _óa_, are involved. Espronceda violates the rule in this instance:

Veame en vuestros brazos y máteme luego (12)

This is a peculiarly violent and harsh syneresis. The stress shifts from
the first _e_ to the _a_, giving a pronunciation very different from
that of the usual _véame_. Such a syneresis is more pardonable at the
beginning of a verse than in any other position; but good modern poets
strive to avoid such harshnesses. Espronceda sometimes makes _río_
monosyllabic:

Los rios su curso natural reprimen (11)

In the poetry of the Middle Ages and Renaissance such pronunciations as
_teniá_ for _tenía_ are common.

DIERESIS

Dieresis is the breaking up of vowel-combinations in such a way as
to form an additional syllable in the word. It is the opposite of
syneresis. Dieresis never occurs in the case of the diphthongs _ie_ and
_ue_ derived from Latin (e), and (o), in words like _tierra_, _bueno_,
etc. _Uá_ and _uó_ are regularly dissyllabic except after _c_, _g_, and
_j_. Examples:

Y en su blanca luz süave (8)
En la playa un adüar (8)
En vez de desafïaros (8)
Compañero eterno su dolor crüel (12)
Grandïosa, satánica figura (11)
El carïado, lívido esqueleto (11)
La Luna en el mar rïela (8)
Cólera, impetuoso torbellino (11)
Horas de confianza y de delicias (11)
En cárdenos matices cambiaban (11)
Rüido de pasos de gente que viene (12)

The same word without dieresis:

Por las losas deslízase sin ruido (11)

In certain words, such as _cruel_, metrical custom preserves a
pronunciation in which the adjacent vowels have separate syllabic value.
Traditional grammar, represented by the Academy, asserts that such is
the correct pronunciation of these words to this day; but the actual
speech of the best speakers diphthongizes these vowels, and their
separation in poetry must rank as a dieresis. In printing poetry it is
customary to print the mark of dieresis on many words in which dieresis
is regular as well as on those in which it is exceptional.

SYNALEPHA

Synalepha is the combining into one syllable of two or more adjacent
vowels or diphthongs of different words. It is the same phenomenon
as syneresis extended beyond the single word. _H_ does not prevent
synalepha. The number of synalephas possible in a single verse is
theoretically limited only by the number of syllables in that verse. A
simple instance:

De alguna arruinada iglesia (8)

The number of vowels entering into a synalepha is commonly two or three;
rarely four, and, by a _tour de force_, even five:

Ni envidio a Eudoxia ni codicio a Eulalia (11)

Synalepha is not prevented by any mark of punctuation separating the
two words nor by the caesural pause (see below). In dramatic verse a
synalepha may even be divided between two speakers. In the short lines
of "El Mendigo," Espronceda mingles four- with five-syllable verses.
But as the five-syllable verses begin with vowels and the preceding
four-syllable verses end with vowels, the former sound no longer than
the rest. In very short lines synalepha may occur between one verse
and another following it. See also line 1389 of "El Estudiante de
Salamanca. "

1. The simplest case is where both vowels entering into synalepha occur
in unstressed syllables:

Informes, en que se escuchan (8)

When the two vowels coming together are identical, as here, they fuse
into a single sound (_s'escuchan_), with only a slight gain in the
quantity of the vowel. _Se_ here has no individual accent in the
stress-group. Where the vowels in synalepha are different, each is
sounded, but the stronger or more dominant is the one more distinctly
heard:

Vagar, y aúllan los perros (8)

2. The second case is where the vowel or diphthong ending the first word
in the synalepha bears the stress, and the initial vowel or diphthong
of the second word is unstressed. Examples which do not involve
stress-shift:

Del que mató en desafío (8)
Que no he seguido a una dama (8)

(_He_ is without stress in the group. )

JUGADOR PRIMERO
No tardará.

JUGADOR TERCERO
Envido.

JUGADOR PRIMERO
Quiero. (8)

In the following examples stress-shift occurs, because the unstressed
vowel is dominant while the stressed vowel is absorbed. Such
stress-shifts as these are sanctioned only when they do not coincide
with a strong rhythmic stress (see below) in the verse. They are less
offensive at the beginning than at the end:

Allí en la triste soledad se hallaron (11)
Tú el aroma en las flores exhalas (10)
Al punto aquí castigaré al medroso (11)

The following are disagreeably harsh:

Que estas torres llegué a ver (8)
¿De inciertos pesares por qué hacerla esclava (12)

3. The third case is where the second vowel or diphthong bears the
stress, while the first is unstressed:

Teñida de ópalo y grana (8)

In cases like these we are dealing with a form of synalepha which,
if not true elision, approaches it closely. According to Benot, the
pronunciation is not quite _d'ópalo_, but "there is an attempt at
elision. " In other words, the second vowel or diphthong, if dominant,
so predominates over the first that it is scarcely audible. Under this
case, too, there may arise stress-shift:

Se hizo el bigote, requirió la espada (11)

This is a very bad verse. But such instances are rare in Espronceda and
good modern poets. They are never sanctioned in connection with a strong
rhythmic stress. In such a case hiatus (see below) is favored as the
lesser of two evils.

4. The fourth case is where each of the two vowels bears the stress:

Así, ante nosotros pasa en ilusión (12)

What happens here is that one of the two stresses becomes subordinate to
the other, the stress being wholly assumed by the more dominant of the
two.

Where three or more vowels unite in a synalepha, two things must be
borne in mind: (1) Stress-shift is not harsh to the Spanish ear, and
is always permissible, if more than two vowels are involved. This is
Espronceda's justification in the following:

Si se murió, a lo hecho, pecho (8)
Necesito ahora dinero (8)
Su pecho ahogado (5)

(2) The vowels of three words may not combine if the middle word is y,
e, he, o, or u. Examples:

¡Pues no ha hecho mal disparate! (8)
Que conduce a esta mansión (8)
But: Cuando en sueño | y en silencio (8)
Si tal vez suena | o está (8)
Alma fiera | e insolente (8)

There is one case in the text where _he_ as middle word does enter into
synalepha, but this is merely the fusion of three identical vowels:

Yo me he echado el alma atrás (8)

HIATUS

Hiatus is the breaking up into two syllables of vowel combinations in
adjacent words capable of entering into synalepha. It is an extension to
the word-group of dieresis, which applies only to a single word.

Many authorities on Spanish versification recognize as hiatus various
cases which should not be so classified. In words like _yo, yerro,
hierro, huevo_, etc. , the first phonetic element is in each case a
semi-vowel, and these semi-vowels have the value of consonants in the
words cited. To classify the following as examples of hiatus is to be
phonetically unsound:

Perdida tengo | yo el alma (8)
Ponzoñoso lago de punzante | hielo (12)
Me he de quejar de este | yerro (8)
Levantóse en su cóncavo | hueco (10)
Cual témpanos de | hielo endurecidos (11)
Tierno quejido que en el alma | hiere (11)

In none of these cases could there possibly be synalepha. Consequently
by definition there can be no hiatus.

Hiatus most frequently occurs to avoid the greater cacophony which would
arise from stress-shift under case 3 of synalepha:

Era la hora | en que acaso (8)

Lack of hiatus would here produce a stress-shift resulting in an
unharmonious stressing of two successive syllables.

Reposaba, y tumba | era (8)

The same principle applies here as in the above, except that the effect
would be even worse, because the stress shift would come under the
rhythmic stress. (See below. )

Su mejilla; es una | ola (8) (Ditto. )
¡Pobres flores de tu | alma! (8)

Probably to give the pronominal adjective greater emphasis.

Y huyó su | alma a la mansión dichosa (11)

Probably to avoid two successive stresses, though possibly there may be
dieresis in _mansión_.

Don Félix, a buena | hora (8)

Again to avoid stress-shift under the rhythmic stress.

¡El as! ¡el as! aquí está (8)
Y si Dios aquí os envia (8)

In these two examples instead of hiatus there is synalepha with
stress-shift, but we have to do with case 2 of synalepha, not case 3.

Que un alma, una vida, | es (8)
Cuando | hacia él fatídica figura (11)
Y el otro ¡Dios santo! y el otro era | él! (12)
¡Villano! mas esto | es (8)
En cada | hijo a contemplar un rey (11)

In some instances hiatus seems to occur for no other reason than to
preserve the verse-measure:

Resonando cual lúgubre | eco (10)
Y palacios de | oro y de cristal (11)
¡Y tú feliz, que | hallaste en la muerte (11)

In general hiatus is most likely to occur before the principal rhythmic
stress in a verse; that is, before the final stress.

RHYTHM, RHYTHMIC STRESS, THE CAESURAL PAUSE

In English poetry the foot, rather than the syllable, is the unit. The
number of feet to a verse is fixed, but the number of syllables varies.
In Spanish poetry the number of syllables to a verse is fixed, subject
only to the laws of syllable-counting given above. But if in this
respect the Spanish poet has less freedom than the English versifier, he
has infinitely greater liberty in the arrangement of his rhythms. The
sing-song monotony of regularly recurring beats is intolerable to Latin
ears. The greater flexibility of Spanish rhythm can best be shown by
illustrations:

The Assy'rian came do'wn like the wo'lf on the fo'ld,
And his co'horts were gle'aming in pu'rple and go'ld;
And the she'en of their spe'ars was like sta'rs on the se'a,
When the blu'e wave rolls ni'ghtly on de'ep Galile'e.

Having chosen to write this poem in the anapestic tetrameter, Byron
never varies the rhythm except to substitute an occasional iambic at the
beginning of a verse:

And the're lay the ste'ed with his no'stril all wi'de.

Notice how much more freely Espronceda handles this meter in Spanish:

Su fo'rma galla'rda dibu'ja en las so'mbras
El bla'nco ropaj'e que ondea'nte se ve',
Y cua'l si pisa'ra mulli'das alfo'mbras,
Deslí'zase le've sin rui'do su pie'.

Tal vi'mos al ra'yo de la lu'na lle'na
Fugiti'va ve'la de le'jos cruza'r
Que ya' la' hinche en po'pa la bri'sa sere'na,
Que ya' la confu'nde la espu'ma del ma'r.

The first of these stanzas has the true Byronic swing. But note how
freely the rhythm is handled in the second. Spanish rhythm is so
flexible and free that little practical advantage is gained by counting
feet. We distinguish only two sorts of verse-measure, the binary, where
in general there is stress on one syllable out of two--that is there
are trochees (__' __) or iambics (__ __') in the verse, or the two
intermingled--and second the ternary measure, where one of a group of
three syllables receives the stress. Such a verse is made up of dactyls
(__' __ __), anapests (__ __ __'), or amphibrachs (__ __' __), or some
combination of these. Of course, a three-syllable foot is often found in
binary verse, and, _vice versa_ a two-syllable foot in ternary measure.
By binary verse we mean only a form of verse in which the twofold
measure predominates, and by ternary one in which the threefold measure
predominates. The extract last quoted is an example of ternary verse.
The following will serve as a specimen of the binary movement:

En de'rredo'r de u'na me'sa
Ha'sta se'is ho'mbres está'n,
Fi'ja la vi'sta' en los na'ipes,
Mie'ntras jue'gan a'l para'r;

Every word in Spanish has its individual word-accent: _habí'a,
habla'do_. Now if we join these two words in a phrase, _habí'a
habla'do_, we note that while each of the words still retains its
individual word-accent, _hablado_ is more strongly stressed than
_había_. In addition to its word-accent _hablado_ bears what we term
a phrase-accent. In any line of verse some of the word-stresses are
stronger than others, and these stronger stresses are termed rhythmic
stresses. They correspond to the phrase-stresses of prose. The principal
rhythmic stress is the last stress of the line. In general the rhythmic
stress must coincide with a word-stress. It always does except where
stress-shift comes into play. We have already seen that a stress-shift
coinciding with the rhythmic stress is intolerable, and hiatus is
preferred. It is very unharmonious for two stresses to fall together at
the end of a verse:

Que estas torres llegué a ver (8)

This is a very bad verse, because _a_ is dominant over _é_ and brings
about stress-shift, and the two consecutive syllables _a_ and _ver_ are
both stressed. The result is unharmonious. A syllable bearing stress and
standing immediately before the final stress is called an obstructing
syllable (_una sílaba obstruccionista_). Every effort is made by a good
poet to avoid such a cacophony. The above is a good example of one. I
have emended llegué to _llegue_ in the text.

A short verse can easily be spoken without pause, but above ten
syllables it becomes necessary for the reader to rest somewhere within
the line. The resting-place is called the caesural pause. The longer the
verse, the greater its importance. It does not prevent synalepha. The
stress immediately before the caesura must be the second most important
rhythmic stress of the verse.

RIME AND ASSONANCE

The regularity of the beats in English verse is of itself sufficient to
indicate when a line of poetry is ended, even though there be no rime to
mark that end. Hence blank verse has been highly developed by English
poets, and many, like Milton, have held it to be the noblest form of
verse. Blank verse is impossible in French, because French with its lack
of verbal stress has no other device than rime to mark the end of a
verse. Without rime French blank verse would be indistinguishable from
rhythmic prose. In Spanish the stress is not so heavy as in the Germanic
languages, but, on the other hand, is much stronger than in French.
Spanish blank verse is not unknown, but has never been cultivated with
great success. It is evident that in this language too, lacking as it
does regular rhythm in its versification, rime is much more necessary
than in English. However, an occasional _verso suelto_, or blank verse,
intermingled with rimed ones, is very common.

Two words rime with one another when there is identity of sound between
the last stressed vowels and between any letters which may follow these
vowels. Rime is masculine (in Spanish _rima aguda_) when the last
syllables bear the stress: _mal_--_cristal_; or feminine when an
unstressed vowel follows the stressed one (in Spanish _rima llana_):
_hermosura_--_locura_. Inasmuch as _b_ and _v_ represent the same sound,
they rime. The weak vowel of a diphthong is ignored for riming purposes;
thus _vuelo_ rimes with _cielo_. Good poets avoid obvious or easy
rimes such as those yielded by flexional endings and suffixes.