Within each Clock an echo lies, Nay, do not listen in disdain, Nor frown on each unconscious tutor, But from past follies strive to gain Knowledge to guide you for the future. ANOTHER'S. BY ADA TREVANION. In the depths of the ancient window Looking unto the sea; I see them sitting together Where he once sat with me. The flowers which bloomed in the garden The broad branches of the chesnut And my brain was teeming with fancies The eastern heaven glowed deeper, I had not a care or a sorrow; My youth was in its prime, And I sat beside my idol, In the year's budding-time. How was it the bright picture darkened? My happiness was but a phantom, And yet I felt no fear: I trusted through good and evil; But now I'm standing here, Heart-broken, and tortured to madness SPANISH LITERATURE. The literature of Spain has not been so much read nor so highly cultivated as it merits, nor has the national character met its due meed of praise. The Spaniards of the age of Ferdinand and Isabella were the noblest nation in Europe. They drove out the Moors, opened the new world, patronized the arts and sciences, and produced the most correct and elegant edition of the Holy Scriptures, under the auspices of Cardinal Ximenes, the greatest statesman of his day. Then came discoveries, and the sceptre of Castile embraced the fairest lands which the sun shone upon; and the dominions that owned the sway of the great Charles constituted the most magnificent heritage ever transmitted to any single individual up to that time. The temper of the Spanish people is peculiar, but many valuable traits mark the old Castilian. He is high-tempered, even haughty, but his pride often prevents him from doing a mean action, and makes even his poverty honourable. He boasts of his high descent, and though too lazy to work, will be careful to do nothing to tarnish his family escutcheon. He is implacable in his resentment, but has been known to be generous to his foes. The Spaniard is also a lover of art, and is most keenly alive to the beauties of nature. He loves his fair Spain, and when abroad, speaks with the most enthusiastic eloquence of her orange-groves, which produce at the same time fruit and flowers; descants on the glories of the Escurial, and the stately splendours of the cathedrals of Seville and Malaga. Such ingredients constitute the elements of literature; and hence, in all ages, Spain has not lacked literary talent. Spain was, from an early period, very closely connected with the Roman empire. Trajan, Marcus Aurelius, Theodosius, and Adrian were of Iberian descent; Seneca, Lucan, and Florus were born at Cordova; Martial, Prudentius, and Quintilian were also natives of Spain. But the country was divided, nor was it finally united till the diadem rested upon the brow of the great descendant of Isabella. In 711 Roderick hazarded the fate of his Gothic and Christian empire on a single battle, and was overcome. The Moors were victorious, and for centuries either oppressed the Christians or were oppressed by them. This warfare produced the salutary effect of fusing the somewhat heterogeneous population of Christian Spain into one mass; the Roman, Goth, and Spaniard forgot their ancient animosities, subdued their petty jealousies, and, united by a common sense of danger and a common religion, forgave and forgot the past, though traces of the ancient blood can still be observed in the natives of the different parts of Spain, and they cling tenaciously to their old customs. They were free till-as a Spanish priest, who now wears an American mitre, indignantly remarked-Charles the Fifth brought in his Flemings. For the first four centuries, Spain shone resplendently over the rest of Europe, and her doctors of theology bore off the palms of victory in that sacred department of literature. Nor did she want able theologians till the eighth century. Julian, Archbishop of Toledo, Isidore, Bishop of Seville, and St. Eulologe, were very celebrated, and even now are quoted by deeplyread canonists. The tenth century was very productive of learned men. The Moslems of Spain were an exceedingly cultivated and elegant nation, excelled in poetry and architecture, and, alone of all their creed, were patrons of learning. The Universities of Granada, Seville, Cordova, and Toledo were sought by students from all parts of Christendom. Chemistry was there studied, political economy was not forgotten, and all the aids that literature could then afford were duly invoked. The names of several of these SpanoArab authors, and the titles of some of their works, have been transmitted to us. In the tenth century, Othman wrote the history of the poets of Spain; Moslema produced a treatise on numbers; Aboul Valid, a library of the Arabian poets, memoirs of illustrious Spaniards, and a dictionary. Other historical and miscel laneous writings appeared from time to time, and paved the way for more elaborate works. Two obstacles militated against the develop ment of the Spanish intellect: first, the want of a proper central government; and second, the diversity of languages. Three tongues were in use among the ancient Spaniards: first, the Provençal, spoken in Catalonia, and another Romance dialect in Castile; and two more in Portugal (which then formed a part of Spain) and Gallicia. A brighter era was dawning on Spain, and she was speedily destined to take her place in the republic of letters. The oldest document extant in the Spanish language is a confirmation, by Alphonso the Seventh, of the charter of Aviles, a city in Asturias, dated 1155. "The Cid," a well-known Spanish poem, follows next, and though its date is uncertain, it cannot be later than the year 1200. This poem, consisting of three thousand lines, relates the principal events in the life of Roderigo Diaz, a baron of some note, who was born about 1040, and died in 1099, at Valencia, which he had conquered from the Moors. He was of ancient lineage and indomitable bravery, and is known in all knightly chronicles as El Cid Campeador, or the lord-champion, and was one of those generous souls for whom nature has done much, but fortune little. He led the armies of Sancho the Second, and five Moorish kings acknowledged him in one day as their seid or lord. His gallant foes did him more justice than the Christian princes for whom he fought, and by whom he was frequently banished. Several circumstances invest this poem with peculiar interest-the date of its appearance, the events in the life of its hero, and the fidelity with which they are sketched. Still, parts of it are fabulous, and the author has evidently availed himself of the poet's licence. The dialect betokens a language yet in its infancy. Ticknor, in his " History of Spanish Literature," has given some lines on the famine of Valencia, which we annex below: "Mal se aquexan los de Valencia, que no ques far, "Valencian men doubt what to do, and bitterly complain That wheresoe'er they look for bread, they look for it in vain. No father help can give his child, no son can help his sire, Nor friend to friend assistance lend or cheerfulness inspire. A grievous story, sirs, it is, when fails the needed bread, And women fair and children young in hunger join the dead." As a graphic picture of manners, and a repository of the customs of the age, "The Cid" is invaluable, and the generous character of the hero inspires pity, love, and esteem. Two other anonymous poems have been placed immediately after "The Cid, but they are not of much value except from their antiquity. "The Life of St. Mary of Egypt," a coarse legend of the olden time, and "The Story of Apollonius," by an anonymous writer. Gonzalo Baceo, a secular priest, who flourished from 1220 to 1246, produced about thirteen thousand lines, all on religious subjects. Thirtysix hundred are on the Miracles of the Virgin Mary. These are mostly divided into couplets. It is more polished than "The Cid," but lacks its spirit. Twenty lines, the song of the Jews who watched the sepulchre after the crucifixion, are the earliest dated specimens of Spanish lyrical poetry. Though these do not rank as gems of the poetic art, still a vein of simple-hearted piety runs through several of the short stanzas of the miracles of the Virgin in twenty-five tales. The good man was evidently sincere, and wished that all who read his poesy should worship at the shrine of his heavenly patroness. The next name that shines in the midst of the darkness of the thirteenth century is Alphonso, justly surnamed the Wise, an epithet bestowed by history and confirmed by truth. This prince was the son of Ferdinand the Third, and ascended the throne in 1252. He was skilled in geometry and some of the occult sciences. His poetry entitles him to a place in the Spanish Parnassus. Considerable advance was made in prose composition during the reign of this monarch, who died in 1284, leaving behind him several works in prose, two of which, "The Astronomical Tables," and "Works on Legislation," have not yet lost their value. Four hundred and one cantigos, in lines of from six to twelve syllables, and with an exactness of rhyme, in the Provençal style and measure, devoted to the praise of the Madonna, are ascribed to Alphonso. A few only have been printed, and though originally composed in another dialect, they have been printed in the Galician. The Galician is the oldest dialect in the southwestern part of Spain, and was the second that was reduced to writing. In the struggles which at different times agitated the peninsula, this province was repeatedly separated from Castile; but at this lapse of time, it is impossible to explain why these stanzas were written in that dialect, when Alphonso was so well versed in the purer and more majestic Castilian. The partedos of this monarch, or the results of his observations on men, things, and manners, are expression and blunders in style, for their remarkable, in spite of occasional rudeness of appropriate language. It was for the king to make the vulgar tongue the language of the courts of the law. These, perhaps, are the oldest prose specimens of the Spanish language, and even now may be favourably compared with more modern authors. Poems of merit appeared from time to time, showing the gradual improvement of the language. The names of Ruiz de Hita and Fernan Gonzales are honourably inscribed on the roll of fame. There are certain crudities in the works of these authors, but a gradual improvement can be visibly noted. The purer style began to prevail, and more attention was paid to the arts of composition. All are generally written in stanzas of four lines each, and are valuable as specimens of antiquity. The national library at Madrid contains many scarce and curious volumes, and among the manuscripts is a rare and singular poem on the history of Joseph, in the Arabic character and metre. Though written in Spanish, the story is also told after the version of the Koran, and the Hebrew narrative is in some instances disregarded. The date only of this singular manuscript is preserved. It was penned in the latter half of the fourteenth century. Some of the words are Provençal, and the style is tender and pathetic. One poem belonging to that early period remains to be described, which, for worldly wisdom and shrewd sense, is superior to any of its predecessors. The subjects chosen by the former writers were either chivalrous or religious-the deeds of some mirror of knighthood, or the charms of the Virgin Mother; but Pedro Lopez de Ayala, who held important posts under four sovereigns, and died in 1407, at the age of seventy-five, painted, in his court-rhymes, human nature as he saw it, with all its faults and foibles. Intrigues then, as now, prevailed in courts. The old statesman knew human nature, and painted it sarcastically. Kings, lawyers, and priests are drawn with some bitterness. The old courtier had been imprisoned in England after the defeat of Henry of Trastamare by the Duke of Lancaster, and had practically experienced the truth of the old proverb: "Put not thy trust in princes." Some are drawn from Moorish history, and others are burlesque and satirical. Alphonso the Wise may be denominated the father of Spanish history, and he has left us a partial record of his beneficial and glorious administration; but he was greatly in advance of his age, and his two immediate successors took no pains to transmit their deeds to future times. Alphonso the Eleventh was more The ballad literature of Spain next claims a few words. Poems, except those on homely subjects, like "The Cotter's Saturday Night,' ,"solicitous, and we have a complete record from Ramsay's "Gentle Shepherd," and others of the same stamp, are seldom perused or known by the commoner classes; but the ballads whose origin is unknown are chanted by all. Some of the rhymes sung by the English and American children in their sports date from the Heptarchy; but ballads are common to all. Even the Mexicans and Peruvians had some old areytos, which had descended from their ancestors, and whose origin was lost. The form of the Spanish ballads is an imperfect rhyme, "confined to the vowels, and beginning with the last accented one in the line; so that it embraces sometimes only the very last syllable, and sometimes only the penultimate or even the ante-penultimate." These ballads in Spain are very ancient. Some have been traced as far back as 1107. A century later, allotments of land were bestowed on Nicholas de los Romances and Domingo Abod de los Romances, both of whom had been present at the siege of Seville, in 1248. Mention is made of a female ballad-singer in the poem of Apollonius. The Concioneios Generales, compiled by Ferdinand del Castillo, and printed at Valencia in 1511, contain thirty-seven ballads --no more. Nineteen are by known authors, but some are anonymous and of greater antiquity. The first of these is a fragment entitled, "Count Claros; or, a Dialogue between the Archbishop and his Nephew." The former, like an old bachelor, sees no charm in love; the latter talks like one who has been deeply smitten. A second, also a fragment, refers to a domestic incident well known among the Moors and Spaniards. The third is complete, and begins, "Fonte fudi, fonte fudi," wherein an enamoured swain entreats his lady-love to smile upon him, but she haughtily refuses. 1252 to 1312; and the example was followed regularly, some high officer of the court or learned ecclesiastic being appointed to that duty. Ayala, whom we have before mentioned as the author of court-rhymes, also acts as historian. The romantic episode of Blanche of Bourbon relieves the secretary's dry details. This unfortunate and beautiful princess was the wife of Peter the Cruel, who, for the sake of Maria de Padilla, forsook her two days after marriage, and, after a long imprisonment, sacrificed her to his wanton's mad jealousy. The chivalrous writer does not spare his master; he paints the agony to which the hapless queen was subjected, and draws a series of graphic and lifelike tableaux from her wedding to the closing scene of her joyless existence. Spanish history complete, and the memoirs of some of Spain's greatest heroes, warriors, and patriots have been drawn with lifelike exactness by faithful and loving pencils. A host of friars and cavaliers sought homes in the new world, some to better their condition, others in search of adventures. Some kept journals; and collectively, these have been of the greatest value to the historian, and the air of freshness which invests them will be acceptable to most readers. They recorded what they saw. The book was not written to sell, but as a memento and recollection of a most eventful period. One poem connected with the conquest is the grandest epic in the language. The Araucana of Ercilla is replete with beauties. From it Voltaire borrowed the formation of "Zaire." and after The Spanish drama is the richest in the world. Like all children of the South, the Spaniards are passionately fond of the drama; the Mysteries had been withdrawn, some attenThe efforts to preserve the old ballads were tion was called to tragedy and comedy by Cersuccessful, and in 1550, Steven G. de Esaglia vantes. Lope de Vega may be styled the creator printed another volume to supply any deficiencies of the Spanish drama. His wondrous brain in the concioneios. A second edition of teemed with plots; he dreamed of tragedies by Naghos's book was published at Antwerp, and night and wrote them by day, or rather dictated others in 1593 and 1597. Every part of the king- them more rapidly than an amanuensis could dom sent in its contribution, the south-west alone take them down. Twenty-two hundred plays excepted. This speedily became very popular, issued from his pen. Three hundred only of and a volume was published in 1614, styled the these were printed. The great author was Romancho General. More than a thousand denominated the phoenix of Spain and the ballads have thus been handed down to posterity. prodigy of nature. "It has been computed To describe these separately would require a volume; and it is a matter of wonder that no world." that he gave more than twenty-one million enterprising French or Spanish publisher has Lope de Vega is but little read out of Spain. presented them to the world in a handsomely The moral in all his tragedies is bad. Unjustifi illustrated volume. They are on all subjects-able resistance and sanguine revenge are in the loves of kings, the deeds of gallant knights. culcated, and instead of correcting, he pandered to the evil tastes of his countrymen. His sacramental acts, which were represented in churches, were mostly dialogues on theology and scholastic disputations. The dramas on the lives of the saints are odd medleys of buffoons, saints, scholars, peasants, kings, the infant Messiah, the devil and the Deity. Such was the strange combination which attracted great andiences, and laid the foundations of the fame and fortune of the writer. Calderon was also a great dramatic writer, and is much praised by the German critics. At times he is gross, and he is extremely bigoted in his religious views. Spain has also produced a number of religious ascetic writers, and many of these have been translated into English and other European languages. But the crowning glory of Spain was "Don Quixote," the production of Cervantes. This great novel has been rendered into all the modern languages, and is universally admired. The Don is an individual not exclusively of his own day or time, but of all days and times. Benevolence, hope, faith, and Christian charity are characteristics of this half-crazed knight, whom the reader loves in spite of his better judgment. The Don never forgets that he is a Spaniard and a gentleman. True, his brain has been turned by the perusal of romances, and he has fallen so much in love with the deeds of all the berces, that he longs to emulate them, but the genuine spirit of chivalry has seized the Manchegan. His adventures are singular, but the machinery of the book is commonplace, and he deals with common personages. The curate, Lousekeeper, and barber may even now perhaps be found in any Spanish village. The Spaniards are particularly fond of these novels of "la vida picaresca," and the noveliet did not look far for his material. Every street furnished him with characters. The Spaniards are the most contented people in the world. Give a man a cloak, an onion, a little garlic, and a glass of the common wine of the country, and he is satisfied; he asks no more. And Cervantes showed a perfect knowledge of his countrymen when he drew the inimitable Don. Sancho is an equally happy creation. No matter what may happen, he is never disturbed as long as he has wherewithal to satisfy his appetite. He looks on his master as wandering in his mind, but he himself is an excellent, gormandizing, greedy, faithful, affectionate follower. The mock government of Sancho is full of exquisite strokes of humour, and the satiric genius of Hogarth has admirably delineated the luckless wight surrounded by the dainties he greedily covets, and yet forbidden to touch a morsel. All the episodes in this wondrous novel are touching, and add to the interest of the whole. Drake, the author of the spirited Address to the American Flag, when reading "Don Quixote" in early youth, rolled on the floor in fits of laughter and merriment. Cervantes was fond of literature from early youth, and produced some plays and romances. He had also an inclination to write for the stage, but want of means compelled him to forego his wishes. He was attached, during his residence in Rome, to the household of Cardinal Aqua Viva; but tiring of servitude, enlisted under Colonna, and lost a hand at the battle of Lepanto. He embarked for Spain, and on the passage was taken by a Barbary corsair, and suffered a captivity of five years. On his return to his native land, he produced the pastoral of "Galatea," and some comedies, which are now lost. Lope de Vega, then in the full tide of his popularity, was ungenerous enough to depreciate his brothercraftsman, and the great writer threw aside the mask and jests of comedy. A petty employment saved Spain's greatest boast from starvation; but even that was withdrawn. A series of difficulties beset the latter part of his life, and the melancholy Philip the Third, who only smiled when he read " Don Quixote," did nothing to relieve the author, who languished for some time in prison. Cervantes was born in 1547, and died in 1616. Two volumes of tales from his pen are extant. The colloquy between the two dogs in the Hospital of the Resurrection has been greatly praised, and for philosophical observation and truth is worthy of its author. The remaining stories have all the wit, humour, and invention so conspicuous in the creator of the knight of La Mancha. Leslie, the painter, wrought an exquisite picture for the Duke of Devonshire, now at Chatsworth, representing the Duchess' listening to some of Sancho's odd tales; and his sister wrote two pieces of poetry on the subject. The compiler of this rapid sketch has two volumes of the Novels of Cervantes from the Dutch press, with five copper-plates. The jealousy of the Spanish government did not permit them to be printed in any part of the kingdom. A WITHERED MORNING GLORY.* My cousin Clara was to be married. It was she was full seventeen, and I?-I was three the strangest thing-the queerest! I laughed years older. Though I looked upon her as a till the tears ran down my cheeks and fell on child, we were always together-Clara and I; Aunt Godfrey's letter. Clara-little Clara-was yet in a way she was my equal and more. always the demurest, the quaintest little body--had read many books for her few years, and in society, I mean. I always thought her a child in those matters, though, as my aunt said, * A name of the Convolvulus. She |