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tives, and engaged him in a literary warfare, which probably embittered his days, though he always obtained the advantage in his arguments. Their hatred is nevertheless only increased his reputation, and the History of Friar Gerund is regarded with reason as the first work of genius which Spain produced in the eighteenth century.

In the latter part of that century, a love of national literature seemed to revive in the narrow circle of Spanish writers. The correctness of the French style did not wholly satisfy them; they felt an attachment to the poets of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and some men of real merit attempted to unite Spanish genius with classical elegance.

The first in this poetical band who ventured to attack the French style, was Vincent Garcias de la Huerta, a member of the Spanish academy, and librarian to the king. It seems to me, that without in any manner allowing the superiority of the Spanish over the French literature, we ought always to regard with approbation the attempts of a writer to restore to his country its original genius, to re-establish its peculiar cha racter, and the imagination which it has received from its ancestors, and to prevent it from declining into a monotonous and fatiguing uniformity. The attempt of Huerta to revive the ancient literature of his country, by calling into action the national pride, was the more likely to be attended with success, as, before he applied himself to criticism, he had already deservedly obtained the name of a poet. A piscatory eclogue, which he recited in 1760, in a distribution of prizes made by the academy, had attracted the attention of the public; and his romances in the ancient style, his commentaries, and his sonnets, bore still stronger testimony to his poetical talents. At length, in 1778, he had the courage to imitate the ancient masters of the Spanish stage, who for the last hundred years had been considered as barbarous. He composed his tragedy of Rachel, in which he proposed to unite the brilliant imagination of Spanish poetry with the dignity of the French, and to avoid the conventional forms of the French drama without sacrificing its better qualities.

The public, with transport, seconded his patriotic intentions. Rachel was performed in all the theatres of Spain, and every where received with enthusiasm. Before it was printed, two thousand copies of it had been written, which had been forwarded to various parts of the Spanish dominions and to

America. Yet this piece is by no means perfect; it is merely an honourable proof of the poetical and national sentiment of a man of genius, who was desirous of contributing to the reestablishment of the art in his native country. The subject is taken from the ancient history of Castile. Alfonso IX. who was defeated by the Moors in the dreadful battle of Alarcos, in 1195, was attached to a beautiful Jewess, called Rachel, whom the nobles and people accused as the cause of the calamities which had befallen the monarchy. He is entreated to terminate a passion which all his court regarded as dishonourable. He balances for a long time betwixt duty and love, when a rebellion, which he had with difficulty suppressed, broke out afresh. Rachel, whilst the king is absent hunting, is surprised in the palace by the rebels; her wretched counsellor Reuben, is compelled to kill her, in order to save his own life; and he is himself slain by the king on his return home. The piece is divided into three acts or jornadas, agreeably to the ancient usage of Spain. In other respects we may easily perceive that this great opponent of the French drama has not himself escaped the contagion of the taste which he was combating. The dialogue is wholly in unrhimed iambics, without any intermixture of sonnets or lyric verses, and there is no striking scene, although the deaths at the conclusion are represented on the stage. The language is dignified throughout, and many scenes are highly pathetic; but the characters are badly managed. The beautiful Rachel does not appear sufficiently often; her counsellor Reuben is disagreeable; and the monarch is too feeble. It seems that Huerta wished to flatter not only the love of the Spaniards for their ancient drama, but also their hatred of the Jews. In another piece, called Agamemnon vengado, he attempted to apply the romantic style to a classical subject; he mingled iambics with octaves and lyric verses, and he thus advanced a step further in his approach to Calderon. It was after he had acquired this title to the respect of the public, that Huerta, in order to re-establish the reputation of the ancient dramatists, published, in 1785, his Teatro Español, in sixteen volumes, small octavo, in which he has inserted his criticisms and invectives against the French stage. He has not, however, himself ventured to expose his favourite authors to a still more severe criticism. He has given in his collection few pieces except comedies of the cloak and the sword, and he

has not admitted a single play of Lope de Vega, the historical pieces of Calderon, or any of his Autos Sacramentales. He was too well aware of the violent hostilities to which such compositions would have exposed him. With almost the same views, Don Juan Joseph Lopez de Sedano published, in 1768, his Parnaso Español, to place before the eyes of his countrymen the ancient monuments of her poetical fame.

On the other hand, celebrity has attended some comic poets, almost of our own day, who have introduced, with success, the French style on the Spanish stage. In some instances, in imitation of Marivaux, they have painted elegant manners, fashionable sensibility, and the slighter interests of the heart; in others, they have attempted the higher drama, and sometimes they have even risen to comedies of character. Nicolas Fernandez de Moratin is known as an author of regular tragedy, Leandro Fernandez de Moratin as a comic author, and Don Luciano Francisco Comella as approaching nearer than either of the two others to the ancient national style. Their works have not, hitherto, found their way into other countries; and as they appear to have few pretensions to originality, they excite our curiosity in a slighter degree. Of all the authors of this new school, there is only one with whose pieces I am acquainted, and that imperfectly; those of Don Ramon de la Cruzycano published in 1788, and consisting of a great number of comedies, dramas, interludes, and saynetes. The last seem to have retained all the ancient national gaiety. The poet has taken a pleasure in painting in these little pieces the manners of the people, and introduces marketwomen, sellers of chesnuts, carpenters, and artisans of every kind. The vivacity of the inhabitants of the South, their passionate sentiments, their vivid imagination, and their picturesque language, preserve, even among the people, something poetical; and ennoble the characters drawn from this class of society. Don Ramon de Cruzycano has written, under the ancient name of Loa, prologues for the comedies represented before the Court, and we there find allegorical beings conversing with men agreeably to the ancient taste. Thus, in the Vaqueros de Aranjuez, which served as a prologue to a translation of The Barber of Seville, the Tagus, the Escurial, Madrid, and Loyalty, appeared at the same time with Shepherds and Shepherdesses. It is true, indeed, that the allegory is not, throughout, treated with the ancient gravity, and that

the shepherds occasionally indulge in a jest on these eccentric interlocutors assuming the human form. The pieces of Don Ramon are like those of the early times, composed in redondilhas assonantes, and lyric verses are occasionally mingled with them to express passion or sensibility; but this similarity of exterior form only renders the contrast of manners more striking; we think ourselves transported into another world, and we cannot conceive how Spanish words can express sentiments so opposite to those of the ancient Spaniards. There is no longer any trace in the higher ranks of the courteous gallantry of the cavalier, of the mixed reserve and passion of the women, of suspicious jealousy in the husband, of the cruel severity often shewn by fathers and brothers, or of that irritable point of honour, so destructive to the happiness of lovers. A cavalier servente in the Italian manner, under the name of Cortejo, is admitted to an intimacy with the young wife; his rights are acknowledged; to him solely belong the private conversation, the first place by her side, the honour of dancing with her, and all the tender sentiments and endearments of marriage; whilst the husband, exposed to caprice, and ill humour, neglected or overlooked by all the guests in the house, has no part left but that of paying the expenses. The two little pieces of The Ball and The Ball seen from behind: El Sarao, y el reverso del Sarao; prove to us that Spain has exactly adopted the manners of Italy. Another piece, taken from fashionable life, El Divorzio feliz, The happy Divorce, shews that the Spaniards were also well acquainted with the character of a man of successful gallantry; and that the frivolous pride of these conquests had assumed the place of the ancient distinctions of honour.

The latter part of the last century also gave birth to some lyrical poets, and to some works of originality. Tomas de Yriarte, principal keeper of the records of the Supreme Council, in his Fabulas Litterarias, published in 1782, attained in some degree to the grace and simplicity of La Fontaine ; and their merit was the more felt, as at that period no good fabulist had appeared in Spain. He never displayed more grace than when he borrowed the redondilhas of the ancient Castilian romances.

Two of the fables of this author I shall here translate. The first, The ass and the flute, is adapted to a favourite popular

air:

THE ASS AND THE FLUTE.
You must know that this ditty,
This little romance,
(Be it dull, be it witty)

Arose from mere chance.
Near a certain enclosure,
Not far from my manse,
An ass, with composure,
Was passing by chance:
As he went along prying,
With sober advance,
A shepherd's flute lying
He found there by chance.

Our amateur started

And eyed it askance,
Drew nearer, and snorted
Upon it by chance.

The breath of the brute, Sir,
Drew music for once;
It enter'd the flute, Sir,

And blew it by chance.
"Ah!" cried he, in wonder,
"How comes this to pass?
Who will now dare to slander
The skill of an ass?'

And asses in plenty
I see at a glance,

Who, one time in twenty,

Succeed by mere chance.

EL BORRICO Y LA FLAUTA.
Esta fabulilla,

Salga bien o mal,
Me ha ocurrido ahora
Por casualidad.
Cerca de unos prados
Que hai en mi lugar,
Passaba un borrico
Por casualidad.
Una flauta en ellos
Hallò, que un zagal
Se dexó olvidada
Por casualidad.
Acercose a olerla,
El dicho animal,
Y dió un resoplido
Por casualidad.
En la flauta el aire
Se hubo de colar,
Y sono la flauta
Por casualidad.
Oh! dixo el borrico
Que bien sé tocar!
Y diran que es mala
La musica asnal?
Sin reglas del arte
Borriquitos hai

Que una vez aciertan
Por casualidad.

The following, The Bear and the Monkey, is written in simple redondilhas, rhymed like the ancient romances:

THE BEAR AND THE MONKEY.
A bear with whom a Piedmontese
Join'd company to earn their bread,
Essay'd on half his legs to please

The public, where his master led.
With looks that boldly claim'd applause,
He ask'd the ape, Sir, what think you?"
The ape was skill'd in dancing-laws,

And answer'd, "It will never do."
"You judge the matter wrong, my friend,"
Bruin rejoin'd; "you are not civil!
Were these legs given for you to mend
The ease and grace with which they swivel?"
It chanced a pig was standing by:

"Bravo! astonishing! Encore!" Exclaim'd the critic of the sty,

"Such dancing we shall see no more!"
Poor Bruin, when he heard the sentence,
Began an inward calculation;
Then, with a face that spoke repentance,
Express'd aloud his meditation.
"When the sly monkey call'd me dunce,
I entertain'd some slight misgiving;
But, pig! thy praise has proved at once
That dancing will not earn my living."
Let every candidate for fame

Rely upon this wholesome rule ;-
"Your work is bad, if wise men blame,
But worse, if lauded by a fool!"
VOL. II.

EE

L'OSO Y LA MONA.
Un oso, con que la vida
Ganaba un Piamontes,
La no muy bien aprendida
Danza ensayaba ed dos pies,
Queriendo hacer de persona,
Dixo a una mona: Qué tal?
Era perita la mona,
Y rispondióle: muy mal.
Yo creo, replicó el oso,

Que me haces poco favor,
Pues que? mi aire no es garboso?
No hago el paso con primor?
Estaba el cerdo presente,
Y dixo bravo! bien va!
Baylarin mas excelente
No se ha visto ni verà.
Echo el oso, al vir esto,
Sus quentas allá entre si,
Y con ademan modesto
Hubo de exclamar así.
Quando me desaprobaba
La Mona, llegué a dudar,
Mas ya que el cerdo me alaba
Muy mal debo de baylar.
Guarde para su regalo

Esta sentencia un autor:
Si el sabio no aprueba, malo;
Si el necio aplaude, peor.

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