1 yi ( fi j f lien aa ee GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE © By ELISHA K. KANE ‘“ “wee hoy Ms ee ann ae rs . 7 — GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE The University of North Carolina Press Chapel Hill, N.C. Oxford University Press London Maruzen-Kabushiki-K aisha Tokyo TOR a moti Uidirmrserat ur Pietsch a tuto Don Lysis amt a Iden de Valtenie ma “ Moa. (stade el metalvinia rn mre Bonule thio: el intento : har i Saad From the Lecciones solemnes of D. J. Pellicer de Salas y Tovar Madrid, 1630 DON LUIS DE GONGORA Y ARGOTE GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE 4 STUDY OF EXUBERANCE AND UNRESTRAINT IN THE ARTS By ELISHA K. KANE WITH DECORATIONS BY THE AUTHOR CHAPEL HILL MCMXXVIII THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA PRESS COPYRIGHT, 19: THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH PREFACE The present study constitutes a complete revision and amplification of an earlier thesis, Gongorism and the Artistic Culture of the Golden Age, submitted in 1926, so the formula runs, “‘to the Division of Modern Languages of Harvard University in partial fulfill- ment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy.” Naturally, the writer himself has always been very firmly intrenched in the conviction that his work contained matter of peculiar significance to the culture of the human race. Finding, therefore, among his associates others who professed, through guile or weakness, a similar interest in his discoveries, he has allowed himself to be seduced into rewriting his thesis in order to secure, without the scandal of populariz- ing, at least a wider audience than the professionally erudite. To do this he has simplified much of the compli- cated machinery invariably found in works of doctoral eminence, at the same time not sacrificing what peda- gogues are pleased to term scholarship. Hence this new 1928 model of gongorism surpasses the old 1926 model in readability, speed, compactness, endurance, and price. Footnotes have been largely eliminated, refer- ences being enclosed within the body of the text. Translations, moreover, have been provided for the convenience of those who may prefer to see their Span- [ ix ] x PREFACE ish, Portuguese, Italian, French, Provengal, Latin, and Greek appropriately Englished. In this connection it should be observed that faithful renderings have been made whenever a passage owes its importance to lin- guistic peculiarities, but when plays upon words and other kindred witticisms exist which defy literal equiva- lents, the writer has resorted to paraphrases, attempting to preserve, often in English verse, the essential spirit of the original. A few verses have been left untouched either because their grotesqueries are untranslatable or because their meaning is such that we, with a pardon- able distaste for the obscene, should not care to set them before the discriminating reader. In regard to the editions of Gongora’s poetry, we have used that edited by Foulché-Delbose and pub- lished by the Hispanic Society of America in 1921 as our critical text. In excerpts from this work we have preserved spelling, punctuation, but have not admitted its eccentric accentuations. Passages from this edition consequently will appear with no accents. With few ex- ceptions, we have accepted dates and when of especial significance they are enclosed in parentheses at the end of passages. In parentheses, too, are to be found the num- bers given by Foulché-Delbose to particular poems. These we include only when the excerpt is brief, as for example a sonnet or décima, longer and well known poems being noted by title, followed by the numerical designation of lines. Passages from the work of other PREFACE x1 authors are preserved with the spelling, accents, and punctuation of the book from which taken. Here, unless necessary, no note is made of the edition. We also wish to acknowledge our indebtedness to the writings of Artigas, Alonso, Buceta, Cafiete, Reyes, Thomas, and other eminent scholars who have made prominent contributions to the question of gongorism. In the domain of music too we wish above all to men- tion Collet; in sculpture, Post and Orueta; and in painting, Cossio and Meyer. Obviously this brief list does not cover the names of all critics from whose works we have drawn, but in so restricted a Panthéon as this preface, it is impossible to provide shrines and burn incense to every luminary. We shall therefore, with Athenian tact, set apart one special altar and dedicate it to the Unknown Critic. Thus, if there be any unmentioned arbiter who feels that we have made use of his opus without due acknowledgment, let him re- gard that particular holy of holies as his very own. The pleasantest moment of my task is that which I now find before me for thanking the various persons who have helped me in this work. To Professor Her- nandez of Oklahoma University I tender my gratitude for aid in translation, and to my former instructors at Harvard, Professors Grandgent, Post, and Ford, I can indeed return no adequate thanks for generous encour- agement and valuable suggestions. To the staff of the University Press—somehow I cannot escape the feeling X11 PREFACE that I am writing a will and must presently run short of adjectives—I offer acknowledgment for their effi- cient aid in performing the many mute, inglorious de- tails connected with the cabalistics of printing. There is still one to whom I feel particularly grateful, and to whom I may truthfully pay the rather dubious compli- ment of saying that without his constant and cheerful help this work would never have been written. Pro- fessor Leavitt, my colleague and—remarkable exception in academic circles—at the same time my friend, has borne without flinching the onus of assisting me to set in order the muddle of gongorism, the deciphering of ill- typed manuscript, and the laborious reading of proofs. Where I have succeeded it has been largely because of his help; where I have failed I feel, and with increas- ing conviction, that it has been for not always heeding his kindly and sensible advice. Chapel Hill, January, 1928. CONTENTS Preface . List of Illustrations . Introduction . . The Meaning of Gongorism . ene Extent of Gongorism . Gongorism in Géngora . The Ancestors of Gongorism . Some Explanations of the Eccentric Style . Meretricious Verse in Other Literatures . . The Fantastic Style in Music Architecture and Extravagance The Grotesque in Sculpture . . Painting as a Field for Phantasy . . Conclusion Notes Index LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Frontispiece . Juan Budo, Musical Rebus . In Ascensione Domini . In Ascensione Domini In Ascensione Domini In Ascensione Domini . The Casa Zaporta . High Altar, Cloister at San Martin Pinario . High Altar, El Transparente . Alonso Berruguete, The Sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham Alonso Berruguete, Saint Jerome . Juan de Juni, The Descent from the Cross . Montanes, Christ . Alonso Villabrille, The Head of Saint Paul eesaint Peter . Luis de Morales, Pieta . El Greco, Toledo . A. El Greco, Saint Martin B. El Greco, The Resurrection . El Greco, Saint Sebastian XVI XIX. XX. XXI. XXII. XXII. XXIV. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS El Greco, The Nativity El Greco, The Laocoon El Greco, The Vision of the Apocalypse Francisco de Goya, Disparates Francisco de Goya, Caprichos Francisco de Goya, Saturn Devouring His Children GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE f I. INTRODUCTION ? sity cyte, att, (ale wl. uy ES EN ES ES “CS ES SEN SEN SEX EN HAVE Often marked the coincidence of periods of brilliant artistic growth with the various wars and ebulliences which seem to be the inevitable growing pains in the de- velopment of great nations. Thus the sudden florescence of letters in the eighth century during the welding of an empire by Charlemagne, the astonishing beauty of architecture and poetry in the twelfth at the time of the crusades, the unsurpassed magnificence of all arts in the sixteenth and seventeenth while Europe was engaged in a struggle for a new world—these and other parallels do seem to establish a sort of vague relation- ship between the sword and pen, to say nothing of the brush, the chisel, the chord, and the mason’s square. With the unproved but fascinating possibility of such concurrences, we can easily understand how prophets who were able to interpret the grisliest bloodshed in history as a crusade to make the world safe for democ- racy, might also find it latent in their seerships to give [3] 4 INTRODUCTION vent to inspiring predictions anent a new renaissance of art which, Phoenix-like, certainly possessed a quan- tity of fire and ashes from which to rise. If strangeness of art be any proof of excellence, and unrestraint a guarantee of strength, then without a doubt, if chronology be not too harshly scrutinized, the two decades culminating in the past war have given birth to a new era in art. From poetry, music, archi- tecture, sculpture, and painting have arisen creations so astonishing that there are those on one hand ready to declare that the artistic millennium must verily be at hand, while others on the contrary are equally positive in denouncing the new art as if it were all the handi- work of some esthetical Anti-Christ. Free verse has existed long enough for us to be per- suaded almost that prose can be miraculously trans- formed into poetry simply by writing it in shorter lines, especially when the vers-librists affirm that it acquires, in the metamorphosis, certain subtle and delicate rhythms. Yet a new enemy has appeared, under the banner of imagism, casting into this verse figures of speech so grotesque and revolting that we at times feel justified in believing that instead of witnessing an artistical millennium, we are in the midst of the atroci- ties of a poetical Armageddon. J. A. Prufrock, for example, uses the simile, “He laughed like an irre- sponsible foetus” and elsewhere describes a quiet even- ing as “spread out against the sky line like a patient etherized upon a table.’’ Maxwell Bodenheim, the gifted INTRODUCTION 5 author who hears “rubies of sound” and “dahlia mur- murs,” speaks feelingly of stars as “icily clustered nuts dotting trees of solitude” and soars into the following verses : Trees probing the shrilly sensitive sunset Like little, laced nightmares leaning Upon a scarlet breast. Poems, too, there are, written in fanciful shapes and in many languages at once, but it takes E. E. Cummings to tell us that we must expect some occultly symbolical and subjective beauty in his stanza: a: crimbflitteringish is arefloatsis ingfallall! mil, shy milbrightlions my (hurl flicker handful in) dodging are shybrigHteyes is crum bs (111) if, ey E. Nor must it be imagined that the above productions are isolated. It is possible to multiply almost indefinitely the names of perpetrators of equally fantastic lyrics: Conrad Aiken, Gertrude Stein, Ezra Pound, Alfred Kreymborg, Donald Evans, Allen Norton, Hilda Doo- little, Benjamin de Casseres, and countless others re- membered only by the worshippers of the bedlam muse. Nor is this sort of verse even confined to America, for the “mirrorists” or Ultraistas of Spain, printing their verses with reflections as if seen against a mirror, the Marinettian futurists of Italy with their telescoping of lines, crossing and printing of all sizes of type, and 6 INTRODUCTION the followers of Blummer in Germany, writing not with words but in meaningless sounds supposed to be en- dowed with spiritually symbolical meanings—all these are much more bizarre than anything produced on this side of the Atlantic. The equivalent in music of this weird poetry is jazz, and like free verse, too, jazz claims to have invented new rhythms. Its chief characteristic, syncopation, how- ever, has been known to European and to Negro music for a long time, but jazz may still claim credit for car- rying syncopation to unheard of lengths, and for de- veloping it, with infinite and complicated nuances, into a sort of esoteric preciosity. The unrestraint of imagistic verse and its grotesque figures also find analogues in the use jazz makes of impure shades of pitch or “smears,” and its vociferous glorying in strident sounds. For the expression of the latter, jazz further utilizes a wide range of instruments usually os- tracized from polite music, such as automobile sirens, squawkers, cowbells, pistols, and all manner of uncanny toot-horns. Finally, the exquisite lyrics written to accompany jazz have almost as valid a claim to immor- tality as those of the imagists. In this connection we may note the line from a popular song, “Strolling with your girlie when the dew is pearly early in the morning.” Only less fanciful than imagistic verse and jazz is the architecture of the period, but this is merely because the expense and labor involved in building are too great INTRODUCTION 7 to permit the erection of useless nightmares of brick and stone. Nevertheless, an approach to constructions of pure phantasy may sometimes be seen in the odd monu- ments erected to commemorate, in all seriousness, the heroes of the World War. There, as in verse and in jazz, is present the same attempt to counterfeit imagi- nation out of extravagance, and power out of meaning- less convulsions. Worthy of note also are the compro- mises between the fantastic and the practical existing in a few of our skyscrapers where the elements of a Gothic cathedral are mortised upon tall rectangles, the result being a sort of monstrous grain elevator with a steeple. The austere Gothic, to be sure, is a perfect and magnificently beautiful symbol for an ascetic religion, and the gigantic, squarish office buildings are equally perfect in expressing the spirit of commerce, albeit with an absolute lack of imagination, since apart from a certain imposing grandeur of size, these edifices are no more esthetic than enormous packing crates. It is the incongruous marriage of God and Mammon, however, that makes this hermaphroditic architecture so absurdly grotesque, and the desperate ransacking of the past for exotic motifs, rather than the creation of a new and fitting architectural symbol, proves that here too is an art sunk, in spite of its violently flamboyant protests, into decadence and degeneracy. The post impressionistic school of sculpture repre- sents an abandonment of the conventional, pictorial, and narrative concreteness of nature for some wildly 8 INTRODUCTION esoteric symbolism. Thus, under the pretext of “eman- cipating” art, the language of sculpture would become phonetic rather than ideographic. Consequently, the universal, objective appeal being lost, a very compli- cated set of principles must be learned before the par- ticular “language” of the new art can be understood. As few feel tempted to master the various difficult, artistical syntaxes therein involved, the productions of the post impressionistic school, or rather schools, are as meaningless a gibberish as a foreign language not understood. Jacob Epstein, the Anglo-American pro- tagonist of the school, does not distort his art to the extremes to be seen in Europe. He does, however, in his attempt to express an idea rather than a reality, ruthlessly strip off all but the most essential traits of a figure, and these he over-emphasizes, the result often being a caricature of such grotesqueness that his very emphasis upon expression defeats its own ends. Um- berto Boccioni, the creator of the fantastic statue, Spiral Extension of Muscles in Action, goes much further and portrays what is almost a wholly disem- bodied idea. His esthetical compatriots trick their works out with all manner of materials, as alien to sculpture as the horrific toot-horns of jazz are to music, making use of glass, paper, leather, tin, mirrors, and even elec- tric lights, thereby giving to their creations something of the aspect of over-decorated Christmas trees. The Roumanian, Constantin Brancusi, dwells so long upon INTRODUCTION 9 the symbolical essence of the human form that his strange bust of Mlle Pogany, with bald head, and huge, froggish eyes, resembles nothing so much as a six- months’ foetus. Most extreme of all is the work of the artistical Bolshevist, Alexander Archipenko, for he has abandoned objective realism to such an extent that he distorts his anatomies into geometrical shapes, besides ruthlessly lopping off fingers and toes, and leaving often, in place of heads, large blocks of stone in the rough. Painting probably wanders further into bizarrerie than any of the other arts. Beginning with the reason- able argument that the primary function of painting is not merely an accurate, photographic reproduction of nature, but rather the expression of an emotion or idea, the neo-impressionists started to eliminate whatever they regarded as unessential, and to exaggerate what to their lights seemed to be dominants. From that point the school of Fauvists, that is to say, wild beasts, at- tempted further to secure a maximum of expression by a minimum of means and, being sick of trite, fin de siécle elegance, copied the barbaric crudities of Poly- nesia and central Asia, making their own still cruder and more barbaric. Painting thus having been torn from its conventional hinges, a great number of strange schools grew up, possessing, like those of sculpture, particular, esoteric “languages” of their own. Cubism, originated by Pablo Picasso or Georges Broque, holds that strength is the essence of beauty and that a straight 10 INTRODUCTION line is more powerful than a curved one. Deriving some questionable comfort from the geological hypothesis that crystals were primitive forms, they hold that since a smooth white pebble was originally a firm angular crystal, the waves of the sea, the clouds of the air, and even the very flowers and beasts of the fields should all be restored to the perfection, strength, and beauty | of their primal crystalline states. Hence the cubists reduce everything to straight lines and angles, and glory in the fact that their art has a firm, scientific foundation. With a logic that would render credit to theology, a recent Polish artist, Wassily Kandinsky, writing in his Art of Spiritual Harmony, argues that if a musician can make melodies without being restricted to the natural sounds of nature, a painter has also the equally unequivocable right to construct a picture without heed to natural forms. This dictum not only justifies cubism but sanctions the equally fantastic school of futurism. With great profundity, the Italian spokesman for the latter school, Signor Marinetti, affirms that “universal dynasm must be rendered in painting as a dynamic sen- sation; movement and light destroy the materiality of bodies,” and he further holds that art should simul- taneously depict all sides of an object and all phases of movement. Thus the futuristic painting A Lady and her Dog, by Giacomo Balla, shows by a countless welter of feet that the lady is walking, and the dog with innumerable tails justifies the inference that he is wag- ging that member, the whole, as Signor Marinetti INTRODUCTION 11 would say, representing the “dynamic decomposition of matter.” The motive behind all these bizarre schools of art is the same, whether it operates in poetry, music, archi- tecture, sculpture, or painting. It is, in short, a frantic endeavor to hide the nakedness of imagination under garish and vulgar trappings. As many of the protago- nists of these arts lack even the rudiments of talent and technique, there is moreover, much insincerity, always more or less conscious, in the bluster and swagger with which they go about “emancipating”’ art. We find them excusing crudities as primitivism and nonsense as imagism, and we see them pretending that beneath the only too obvious want of idea there lies a subtle pro- fundity. On the other hand, in spite of the. blatant propaganda of this art, there is another cause, much deeper, which makes its various grotesqueries seem in- evitable, and that is a sort of artistical destiny which causes fantastic swirls and curious, half-submerged counter currents to be formed in the wake of every creative era of importance. The last period of any great creative significance for European art is romanticism, and whether or not we sympathize with its ideals, the fact cannot be ignored that it was a great force and that it left some remark- able monuments. Gradually, however, the powerful surge of romanticism, so resistless at first, spent itself, and as it dwindled, later artists attempted to reproduce consciously what had before flashed into existence al- 12 INTRODUCTION most spontaneously. Thus the very movement which had broken the chains of an older formalism, began to bind its own subjects, and they, being weaker than their predecessors, allowed themselves to be led into the ar- tistical slavery of outworn romantic conceptions. Never- theless, there have always been irreconcilables even among slaves, and so in this later period of romanticism these fomented revolt, now under banners most hateful to romanticism such as naturalism and its congenres, and now by pursuing to extremes tendencies already latent in romanticism. These rebels thus initiated (just as Baudelaire, for example, prepared the way for the symbolists and the décadents) the bizarreries in the arts which have recently become so noticeable. It is the plan of the following study to trace the developments of another craze for fantastic art, quite similar in essence to that of the present but in a period three centuries remote, where the distant vantage point of time will permit its freakish productions to be seen in better perspective. The epoch we shall investigate is, in addition, one of much greater creative vigor than that of romanticism, and consequently its details will stand out in bolder relief. Furthermore, in concentrating our attention upon the arts of Spain we can see this relief accentuated more strongly still because in that country the various phases of art are more sharply defined than elsewhere, and its cultural maladies are therefore also to be witnessed in a more aggravated and distinct form. INTRODUCTION 13 Before attempting this task, inasmuch as compari- sons will be made between the arts of various peo- ples and various epochs, and verdicts will be given upon the excellence of many works, it would be well perhaps to set forth briefly the two most important standards by which they are judged. Without doubt all personal credos, whether artistical or not, should in a measure partake of something of the privacy of one’s own body, that is to say they should never parade abroad with an unseemly exhibition of nakedness, but should always appear in public well clothed, and preferably in conven- tional attire. Nevertheless, since the writer speaks at times as one having authority, the reader is but privi- leged to know upon what prerogative the oracles rest. For this reason, if no other, an artistical confession of faith should be made at the outset. Let us therefore hasten to proclaim our disbelief in any eternal verities, at least in art, for art rests upon the senses as well as the imagination. On the other hand, we feel certain that time is a very thorough winnower, and that when a work of genius has been tossed again and again upon the contrary gusts of criticism and dis- favor, yet still remains within the people’s artistical granary with something of its first power and attrac- tion, then we may confidently say that such a work possesses universality, not absolute, to be sure, but in the light of a few thousand years comparatively so. It is this one quality which has kept alive, let us say, the Book of Job or the Iliad, and it is the one quality 14 INTRODUCTION that shall probably endow the Gothic cathedral, the work of Shakespeare, Rembrandt, and others with an immor- tality as slowly mortal. Universality is the first and the great commandment of art, and without it no work ever comes into that gloriously luminous kingdom to which many aspire but to which few are chosen. So long has universality been recognized as the para- mount quality of art that it has somewhat obscured another essential of great importance, individuality. By this is not meant, necessarily, individuality of author, but rather individuality of time and environment, the particular essence that marks a work as being the product of one particular cultural milieu and no other. By itself inimical to universality, this quality is, strange as it may seem, its necessary complement. Shakespeare, universal as he is, brings on his stage none but Eliza- bethan Englishmen, whether they happen to be set in Rome, Venice, or Denmark; Dante is Florence of the Middle Ages; Phidias, the Athens of Pericles. After all, this individuality is, to resort to paradox, a kind of transient immortality, because the faithful articulation of a certain cultural pattern is often of such singular charm, that it lingers for a time through unsympathetic ages. In laying emphasis upon universality, our esthetic standards are classical in the sense that any work which survives the censures of time is to be regarded as a classic. By no means is this classicism to be interpreted as an attempt to regard the classics of Greece and Rome INTRODUCTION 15 as models to which all works must conform in order to attain universality ; that indeed would savor of the most bigoted pedantry, quite inconsistent with our strong insistence upon individuality. Again, in stressing indi- viduality our standards would allow no rules or restric- tions of any kind to be placed upon art. This, however, should not be taken as a sanction of wholesale license and unrestraint. Art is essentially an aristocracy, an esthetical abbey of Théléme wherein each lordly genius may do what he wills, obeying no laws save those which, in his own nobility, he imposes upon himself. If any boor should creep into that elect society, and by uncouth bizarreries take advantage of its freedom, time alone will punish him, and punish him she will, with oblivion. The art of Spain in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries possesses, if anything, more individuality than universality, and perhaps this explains why much of the art of her people is not as well known to the world as that of Italy, France, and England. Two important fac- tors, character and environment, contribute to this in- dividualism. The Spanish temperament is intense and marked by seemingly strange inconsistencies. Mystical to the point of ecstasy, and given to the wildest flights of fancy, it is at the same time marked by a very clear common sense and a realism that is hard to the point of grimness. The world in which the Spaniard moved was also one which would accentuate his character. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries Spain, by a few melodramatic but ruthless strokes, became almost over- 16 INTRODUCTION night the possessor of half the globe, and almost over- night by a few incredible blunders lost it again. On one hand this exaggerated the already marked rashness and arrogance in the national temper, and on the other it drove it into melancholy and religious introspections, the net result being to create a tense atmosphere of be- wilderment with hope and despair warring with one another. Spain then possessed something of the desper- ate frenzy of a gambler who has suddenly gained and lost an immense sum and recklessly hopes to get it back again. This stormy environment, producing conqueror and inquisitor, could not fail to make itself felt in an art of similar strongly pronounced qualities, an art which was likely to sin by extremes rather than to preserve a tranquil universality. Because of this brilliant, varicolored individuality it is very hard to give any brief, intelligent summary of Spanish art during the sixteenth and seventeenth cen- turies that will hold good for all its different aspects. We shall therefore sketch only in a very general way a few of the most important tendencies and note some of the contrasts that are to be found not only between currents, but between artists within those currents and even within the very style and work of the artist himself. Beginning, then, with literature we note the strong mystical vein in Spanish nature and find great difference between two famous religious writers, and also in their writings. Santa Teresa blends a very canny, “Scotch” shrewdness and humor with her ram- INTRODUCTION 7 bling but rhapsodic subtleties while she describes the castle of the soul or writes to her nuns upon the domes- tic economy of one of her institutions. Luis de Leon, on the other hand, is formal and serious and brings into his ascetical religious introspections a Horatian ele- gance that is almost epicurean. In non-religious fiction the chimerical flights of the imagination find vent in the immensely popular novels of chivalry where drag- ons, damsels, knights, and enchanted castles are swept into a maze of strange adventures. Yet here, too, one finds odd unconformities, as for example, realism in- truding upon wild phantasy in the Tirant lo Blanch, whose burlesque and obscenity also make a sharp con- trast to the beauty and high ideals of that noble series of novels. Realism of the most sordid kind finds ex- pression in an equally popular sort of fiction, the pic- aresque novels, and there also is the same divergence in character of individual works as the romantic and erotic rascality of the Soldado Pindaro shows, especi- ally when placed beside the cynical bitterness of the Buscon. But the most important and most typical genre of that age of action is the drama, and most varied is its individuality. The exultant magnificence of Spain is expressed by Lope de Vega with a tremendous lyrical sweep, while her gloom suffuses the didacticism of Alarcon, and her punctilious sense of honor comes out in Calderén. It is, however, only in the great novel of Cervantes, also dramatic in its essence, that all phases of Spanish life and character merge, and that is why 18 INTRODUCTION the Don Quixote is one of the most nearly universal and at the same time most individual works in the world’s literature. Music and architecture being subjective and pee more limited in scope than are letters, cannot show as great a diversity. In a very general way it is true that the mystical side of Spanish nature shows itself best in the mediaeval tradition of esotericism still sur- viving in the music of the Golden Age, while archi- tecture best portrays the splendid, flaunting magnifi- cence of the time. Yet even here, there are important exceptions, as in the rollicking folk songs which are. anything but mystical, and the Escorial, a sombre monument attesting to the austerity of the nation’s mysticism. Capable of much fuller expression are sculpture and painting, and in them the activity and impetuosity of the great age find vent in characterizations of boldness and animation. Sculpture portrays consistently the very inconsistencies of Spanish individualism, the great prov- inces particularly developing distinctive yet widely dif- fering traits. In Castile a sombre asceticism permeates the severe figures of saint and hidalgo, .and their atti- tudes and coloring are quite sober and restrained. Still, here too are exceptions, as the retables of Berruguete prove with their boisterousness and incontinent color. In contrast to the sculpture of this province is the ele- gance and sensuous beauty of the statues of Aragon, full of captivating cheerfulness, refinement, and ideal- INTRODUCTION 19 ism. Nevertheless, in all its poiseful and charming idealism one may discover there a forceful realism that is wholly Spanish. Sevillan sculpture furnishes yet an- other opposition in its brooding, nebulous melancholy, sO apparent in the leader of the school, Montafiés, who attains to great nobility of form and delicacy of touch but at the same time shows a predilection for brilliant hues and richness in the use of gold. In spite of all this variety in the provincial schools, there is not a single trait which does not faithfully reflect some element in the national consciousness, and yet, on the other hand, few sculptors have been able to embody more than one or two of these elements in their art. For that reason the sculpture of Spain is, for the most part, monadic— an idiosyncrasy obviously militating against univer- sality although it contributes to a very pronounced artistic personality, but one, unfortunately, approach- ing perilously close to caricature. Literature excepted, painting constitutes the crown- ing glory of Spanish art, and here too the same gen- eralization will hold which we have made for sculpture, although the greater fluidity of painting permits a much richer variety. In contrast to the gaiety and sim- plicity of the Sevillan school, always bringing to mind the names of Juan de las Roelas and Murillo, we may note the cult of the ugly by Zurbaran in Estremadura. Against the warm deep colors of the Valencian school, we may place the spectral paleness of Castile’s great artist, El Greco, of whom more later. In all provinces 20 INTRODUCTION there is nevertheless in Spanish painting one predomi- nating characteristic, and that is the strong penchant for realism, or perhaps it would be better to say real- isms, since, despite the sharp fidelity of the Spanish artist to realism, his scope rarely embraces more than a single phase of it. Thus in painting as in sculpture, the vehemence of the painter in attempting to depict faithfully his narrow outlook, is conducive to over-em- phasis and so, paradoxically, his realism makes him unreal. Only one artist, Velazquez, has, like Cervantes, succeeded in gathering all the elements of life, or nearly all of them. For that reason those two geniuses are perhaps the only two of all Spain who will for long have any indisputable claim to universality, or what is the same thing, immortality. Much of Spanish art, then, can claim recognition alone from its ability to present the transient and the particular in an interesting and colorful fashion. But any art that must become arresting in order to be noticed very quickly develops a cult for the startling and the peculiar. We have already noticed the unilateral tendencies in Spanish art and have suggested that they provide fertile fields for caricature. We have also pointed to the fervor of the Spanish temperament and have noted factors in the spiritual environment of the Golden Age which would increase the restlessness of that nature and stress its peculiar intensity. Nothing could be more natural then than to discover the erratic individualism of the Spanish soul finding an outlet in INTRODUCTION 21 an art equally pronounced. It should also occasion little wonder to find this artistic expression becoming at times violent and fantastic in an extreme degree. Finally, we should not be surprised to see in the monu- ments of Spain not only little universality but a strange individuality so distorted as to lose all semblance with sane art, evoking interest rather from the standpoint of cultural psychopathy. It is then to the study of such a bizarre art that we have dedicated the following chapters. ee ce $c et. pS II. THE MEANING OF GONGORISM O EVERY nation there comes a period in which works of genius seem more com- mon than at any other time. The spirit of a people then attains its most perfect ar- } ticulation, and masterpieces are created, at Once so individual as to be mistaken for the utterance of no other folk and yet at the same time so universal as to appeal to all time. Indeed they seem as imperish- able as mountains and like them, in restrospect, loom up as landmarks of the nation’s culture and symbols of its intellectual greatness. Periods like this have given to England Spenser, Jonson, Marlowe, and Shakespeare, and to France Corneille, Racine, and Moliére. Moreover, the works of genius produced at such a time are as inimitable as they are enduring, and artists of succeed- ing years, notwithstanding care and effort, fail to ascend heights so lofty. Thus, with the passage of cen- turies, realization comes at last that the summits are inaccessible. Men look back upon them with a half- melancholy wonder and refer to the time they mark as a golden or classic age. [ 22 ] THE MEANING OF GONGORISM 23 Spain too had such an interval, called with justice the Golden Age, and the contrast between that glamorous time and the rest of her artistic history is even more sharply marked than similar periods usually are in other countries. The Golden Age stands out as a season of unparalleled prodigality in artistic culture, and every province of art is able to boast of at least one master. Victoria brings new intensity into the recondite mysti- cism of Spanish music; Berruguete animates sculpture with a tumultuous passion, just as El Greco does in painting; while Velasquez, vivid and impersonal, sets the hall mark upon Spanish realism. In literature es- pecially, the age vindicates its title both in the quality and in the quantity of its productions, for Spain, in addition to her novelist Cervantes, possesses four men of genius in the drama alone. The works of the Spanish playwrights are too numerous even to admit of ac- quaintance; Calderon, for example, has about seventy plays to his credit, Tirso de Molino has written ap- proximately four hundred, and with Lope de Vega the number leaps to somewhere between fifteen hundred and two thousand. The Golden Age, then, is one not only of perfection but of immense energy and pro- ductivity. But it is inevitable that so furious a conflagration should generate smoke sufficient to obscure some of the brightness of its flame. Just as much of the splendor of the Golden Age lies in the superb magnificence of its culture, so its chaotic exuberance derives largely from 24 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE the same extravagance. This is a time when the tone, the pace, the very attitude of art, all put on the grand manner. Noble thoughts, of course, lodge ostentatiously, and, as a natural consequence, trivialities also begin to affect residences of unbecoming grandeur. In short, the Golden Age, with all the power of its master minds, is nevertheless a period of ungoverned bombast. Literature, then, disregards all sumptuary laws, and the once austere Castilian tongue adopts the starched ruff and slashed doublet of the age. Soon we notice the existence of an affected school of poetry similar to those schools of elegance in which exquisite fops were taught manners, dress, the coiffure of the hair and beard, even the painting of the face. And the puppets of the court assiduously cultivate every innovation in language, every conceited frivolity of phrase, and every nicety to the polished tournure of a thought. With the passage of time these affectations become exaggerated, manners develop into mannerisms, delicate concepts de- generate into fantastical conceits, and what once at- tracted by its novelty repels by its grotesqueness, until at length so outlandish the style becomes and so numer- ous grow its devotees, that it attains the proportions of a veritable epidemic and receives the notice of a special name. From the Cordovan poet, Don Luis de Géngora y Argote (1561-1627), this style is called gongorism be- cause it is a characteristic of some of his poetry. He is not, however, the innovator of this flamboyant manner, THE MEANING OF GONGORISM 25 but from the fact that he carries it to extremes before unheard of, he becomes, in a measure, the symbol of the movement and therefore quite suitably lends to it his name. As a matter of fact, it has another title, or rather two of them, neither being quite synonomous because the style has never been altogether understood, and one term is sometimes applied to a particular set of elements — in the bizarre manner, while the other is attached to a somewhat different series. The term for the style usu- ally regarded as the closest likeness to gongorism is cultism, so called because only the cultos, persons of highly sublimated culture, could appreciate this abstruse manner. Briefly stated, cultism consists in the predilec- tion for an obscure language, latinized in vocabulary and syntax, and surcharged with extravagant figures of speech. Contrasting to some degree with this definition is the one given for the other term, conceptism. This, in turn, may be described as a style which, as its name im- plies, is marked by an abuse of metaphysical conceits and, in addition, philosophic paradoxes and obscure references. Theoretically the two styles are quite dis- tinct since one is supposed to be concerned primarily with words and the other with ideas, but inasmuch as words are the vehicle of ideas, the borderland between the various elements of cultism and those of conceptism becomes so vague that confusion inevitably results from any attempt to set a sharp line of demarcation between the two. It is not difficult to discover a number of reasons for 26 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE this, since some traits are common to both styles. Ob- scurity, for instance, may arise in cultism from the use of jumbled syntax, or it may occur in conceptism from too cryptic epigramming, the results in either case often being indistinguishable. Again an element of one style may blend with one of the constituents of the other. — Thus, puns are classed as cultist because they play upon words, and paradoxes as conceptist because they play upon ideas. Yet paradoxes are prone to degenerate into the mere verbal flourishes of cultism, and, on the other hand, the word-jingling of a pun may also contain a brilliant play of ideas, which therefore encroaches upon conceptism. Again, a too sweeping nomenclature of some of the details comprising the styles augments this con- fusion. To cite an example, figures of speech are lumped as cultist on the assumption that they paint images, and metaphysical conceits as conceptist because they evoke only ideas. However, there are a number of figures of speech such as metaphors, which conjure up both images and ideas. An image, in the last analysis, is an idea, while the ideation of a metaphor is inherent in its image. Accordingly, the attempt to set a cleavage be- tween denotation and connotation is only an occult sub- tlety, possible to be sure, but impracticable. An illustra- tion of the confusion arising from such abstruse hair- splitting is seen in Menéndez y Pelayo’s statement that the use of allegory is a peculiarity of the conceptist style alone. Although this critic countenances the partition of images to cultism and ideas to conceptism, in this THE MEANING OF GONGORISM 27 particular instance he fails to realize that allegory, like personification, of which it is only an extension, is really making concrete images out of ideas, or, in other words, making stones out of sermons instead of seeing sermons in stones. The operation of cutting the stones from the sermon is consequently as difficult as it is dangerous. An even more fertile ground for the confusion of cultism and conceptism lies in the fact that a writer who affects one style often uses some of the elements of another. The problem then is no longer one of classify- ing the tools but rather the workman who uses them. In case the writer uses about as many of the implements of cultism as he does of conceptism, or if he uses those of cultism in turning out one piece of work and then those belonging to conceptism in finishing another, the greatest chaos results among critics who feel impelled, as it were, to set apart the cultist sheep from the con- ceptist goats. Gracian is just such a writer, and great is the diversity of opinion regarding him. Korting brands him as a cultist, and Baist, as unalterably, a conceptist ; Ticknor describes his work as “poetry for the culto school” and also says that he “defended the gongorism of the preceding period,” to which Fitzmaurice-Kelly answers, “no man ever wrote with more scorn for gon- gorism and all its work”; Hannay ventures the state- ment, “It was his chosen function to be the critic, prophet and popularizer of gongorism” ; and Cejador y Frauca grows quite excited in proving Gracian alto- 28 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE gether conceptist. Such conflicting opinions occur inter- minably. Finally, a cause for confusing the two styles arises from the tendency on the part of some critics to be im- pressed by a particularly dominant trait in the work of a conceptist or cultist writer, regarding this trait subse- quently as a sort of shibboleth by which to ascertain the conceptism or cultism of other writers. GOngora’s use of neologisms is such an outstanding characteristic of his style that this is sometimes regarded as an inevitable adjunct of cultism. Hence writers using neologisms, like Herrera, are unjustly charged with cultism, while in- dubitably cultist writers, such as Paravicino, are some- times freed of the charge simply because their work lacks that one peculiarity. It must be evident, therefore, that cultism and conceptism possess much in common. Many of their particular esthetic possessions are so con- fused, that it is practically impossible to effect a clear repartition of the elements constituting the property of each. This need not surprise us if we realize that both styles are children of a single parent—affectation—a supercilious parent, indeed, who never left a definite literary legacy. Therefore, gongorism, like Janus, may be regarded as always possessing a single head with two faces, the cultist and conceptist. Theoretically the aspect of the one may be regarded as exoteric, consisting mainly in the meretricious ornamentation of the medium of thought—language. The nature of the other, similarly, THE MEANING OF GONGORISM 29 is largely esoteric, showing itself in the subtle embellish- ment of the thought, rather than the medium. Beyond this no distinction is justified. Certainly, since neither thought nor medium can exist in literature independ- ently, it is impossible to exclude conceptism from gon- gorism, or cultism from conceptism. As a matter of fact, the only reason for preserving the theoretical distinc- tion at all is that certain gongoristic writers make more use of cultist than conceptist elements, or vice versa, and when we are dealing with the possible influences of one gongoristic author upon another, recourse to this discrimination is often of value in confirming or dis- proving the influence in question. In exactly the same way it will be of advantage to us later on when we turn to movements quite similar to gongorism in the litera- tures of other nations and there inquire as to pos- sible influences. Ultimately, it will also serve when we come to investigate an extension of the gongoristic style to the music and fine arts of Spain. Were it not for this no attempt to discriminate between cultism and con- ceptism would be made, and Mérimée’s opinion, that the two styles “really cannot be distinguished at all” might then be accepted without much objection. Fitzmaurice-Kelly describes gongorism simply as “bad taste” and dismisses it without further analysis, but since a great deal of the misunderstanding of the style arises from just this—the failure to scrutinize it carefully, a detailed investigation of gongorism should be undertaken first of all in order to resolve it into its 30 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE constituent elements. We have observed that Gongora is largely the symbol of the style because he carries it to greater extremes than any other writer, and we may add that he makes use of a greater variety of artifices to attain his affected manner than either his imitators or esthetic predecessors. In fact, he uses practically all the devices they use and more, besides using them in greater concentration. Hence an examination of Gén- gora’s poetical arsenal will disclose nearly all the bizarre weapons ever wielded by cultists or conceptists. On the other hand, while this inventory will give a compre- hensive survey of the ordnance of the movement, it is apt to give an exaggerated idea of the equipment of the individual gongorist of the rank and file, because none of Gongora’s followers are so armed to the.teeth as he. Accordingly, the subsequent analysis of gongorism will accomplish two things: the description of the phenom- enon as it occurs in the poetry of Gongora, and the de- lineation of gongorism, the movement, at its worst. In other words, we shall note all the symptoms of a cul- tural delirium-tremens by describing an extreme case, reserving for the next chapter the pulse-feeling and temperature-taking of a number of individuals who will give us the norm for the malady. A noticeable characteristic of gongorism consists in the introduction of new words. This, of course, is not to be condemned in itself since it is one of the natural processes of linguistic evolution. A language must al- ways grow as the cultural life of a people matures, new THE MEANING OF GONGORISM 31 ideas requiring suitable vehicles for their expression. Hence new words are continually falling upon the lan- guage, sometimes almost imperceptibly during seasons of artistic drought; sometimes descending in torrents during periods of great literary storm and stress; then, unless the soil of the age absorbs them, they occasion floods even more disastrous to culture than long, lin- guistical dry spells. Milton, Dante, and Rabelais have discharged cloudbursts of words upon their respective languages, and, while many of the neologisms have re- mained, a large percentage have been lost. For words, as for living things, the law of the survival of the fittest seems to apply, and hence the praise or the blame for a neologism lies in its own capacity to take root and flourish or, lacking that, to be crowded out to die. Many of the words introduced by gongorists have survived, for which we should be grateful, since they have as- suredly contributed to the elegance and the flexibility of speech. On the other hand, those neologisms which time has rejected, must inevitably condemn the gon- gorists because, almost without exception, the words which have perished have been useless synonyms formed in contradiction to the spirit of the language. A few illustrations of the sort of neologisms, both good and bad, introduced by gongorism, may be of interest. Almost all are latinisms, some (canoro, purpurear, can- dor, aurora, horrendo, ceruelo, and auriga) being po- etical elegances, while others (cdlamo, tdlamo, palestra, meta, and turba) combine pedantry with the poetical. 32 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Still more (inexrpugnable, bipartido, protonado, caligi- noso, apocrifo, and Eclipticas) are obviously created for their sonorous pedantic roll. Nevertheless, out of justice to the gongorists, it should be observed that the total number of their neologisms is not large, and further- more the new words are used in general quite sparingly, although Gongora occasionally runs a number together within a few lines. Propicio albor del Hespero luciente, Que illustra dos Eclipticas ahora, Purpureaba al Sandoual que oi dora.1 Panegyrico [142-144] But if gongorism can be pardoned for some of its - neologisms on the ground of having enriched the lan- guage, this excuse cannot save it from the wholesale condemnation of its hyperbates, or innovations in syn- tax. New words may be welcome as guests provided their stay in the language evokes pleasant memories or causes interesting associations, but a new syntactical ar- rangement involves an entirely new habit of living, a topsy-turvy house cleaning and shifting about of some of the most patriarchial members of the grammatical family. Perhaps this explains why none of the gram- matical innovations of gongorism have survived, while some of its verbal inventions have. The hyperbates of gongorism fall in two general classes : approximations of the grammatical patterns of the classical languages, those of the Latin being by far the commonest; and fantastic, chaotic jumblings of THE MEANING OF GONGORISM 33 syntax which have no precedent. Of the first group, a common trait is the omission of the article or, when it is used, its removal to some distance from the word it modifies. De el siempre en la montafia oppuesto pino? Soledad primera [15] Similarly, other words: besides articles are separated from those with which they belong. Donde espumoso el mar Siciliano El pie argenta de plata al Lilybeo3 Poliphemo i Galathea [25-26] Again, there are interpositions which are rendered even more complex by placing others within them. El oro al tierno Alcides, que guardado De el vigilante fue Dragon horrendo4 Panegyrico [75-76] Another imitation of Latin syntax occurs in the many approximations of the ablative absolute, and the poet even turns to Greek grammar for his innovations, the most striking being an attempt to approach the Greek accusative or accusative of specification. Lasciua el mouimiento Mas los ojos honesta5 Soledad primera [256-257] But the most violent hyperbates belong, as we have said, to that class consisting of chaotic arrangements justified by no language. In the following example a conjunction is lacking between two adjectives, and 34 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE the determinative, removed from its noun, is obscured by a number of epithets. Lagrimosas de amor dulces querellas Da al mar; que condolido, Fue a las ondas, fue al viento El misero gemido Segundo de Arion, dulce instrumento.® Soledad primera [10-14] In addition to neologisms and hyperbates, a further element of gongorism consists in the juxtaposition of cumbersome polysyllables with shorter words, cre- ating thereby a rather ludicrous effect which is rarely intended. Artificiosamente da exhalada™ Soledad primera [649] In fact, it seems as if gongorists felt that the reverber- ating sonority of this ample syllabication was increased by the contrast of short, sharp words; and not only words but sentences also are drawn out endlessly, bring- ing into play every syntactical device and every ruse of rhetorical strategy to prolong the interminable lin- guistical bombardment. Of these syntactical auxiliaries the commonest is parallel structure, augmented and sharpened, usually, by repetition or antithesis. The commonest rhetorical aid is apostrophe, frequently re- inforced by exclamation and interrogation. CAMILIO O blanca luna prolija! ISABELA O Endimion zahareno Bien mio! THE MEANING OF GONGORISM 35 CAMILIO Tu labios sella. ISABELA Llora el alma! CAMILIO Llore un rio. ISABELA Clamare. CAMILIO Clama. LAURETA O desuio! ISABELA O amor! CAMILIO O honra! LAURETA O estrella! Comedia de las firmezas de Isabela8 [1134-1139] Yet neither this rhetoric with all its frenzied out- bursts, pedantic words, and architectonic sentence struc- ture, nor the violent hyperbates and extraordinary neologisms described above, would have won for gon- gorism the notoriety it now endures, were it not for its grotesque figures of speech. These undoubtedly form the most striking element of the style and best reveal the affectation behind it. Every attempt is made in the poetry of gongorism to arrest attention, not so much by what is said as by the way in which it is ex- pressed, and in consequence we see the cult for the novel and the bizarre carried to irritating proportions. As might be expected, oxymoron, the juncture of con- tradictory words, becomes a common device, so that we find such expressions as “silent rhetoric’ and “burning ice”; or, again, epithets made of compounds such as “purple hours” and “diamond smile” which possess no real or figurative relationship. Favorite ad- jectives are also worked to exhaustion, as for example “crystal” and “crystalline” which recur over and over 36 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE again in the most inappropriate connections: “crystal shadows,” “crystal bones,” “crystal leaves,” “crystal- line butterflies,’ and even the “crystalline heaven of a woman’s hands.” Truly the complicated figures of speech of gongor- ism might well justify the French axiom “Whoever strains for wit wastes what he has.’”’ The more elab- orate metaphors evoke not admiration but ridicule. A lover describes himself as “burning upon a woman’s altars,’ another gallant is so disturbed by his lady’s departure that he “navigates tears of fire,’ and a second-rate poet has reached such olympic heights that he “speaks nectar and writes ambrosia.” Descriptions of nature are particularly ornamented by conceits, as may be seen when a foamy brook “boils melodious silver,” “the dog star barks,” the constellation of Orion angrily “fences with his sword in the skies,” and “the clock of the stars strikes twelve o’clock.”” Metaphors be- come incongruously mixed as they become more in- volved. Gongora’s ode De la toma de Larache furnishes an illustration, for there the poet speaks of a river as a crystal serpent which empties into the ocean, and he describes the discharge of water as “the sea drinks its name”; then, later in the poem, the same river is re- ferred to as an elephant which ultimately turns into a lion, whereupon the ocean becomes more respectful to it. In his first Soledad (solitary musing) Gongora compares the water of a stream, wherein some one was drowned, to “the venom of a snake of dew’; and in 99 «66 9d 66 THE MEANING OF GONGORISM of his second Soledad the poet describes a tree growing by the water as “trampling upon a spring,” explaining to us further on that this spring is really a serpent which vomits forth not venom but dew, and which, after enfolding the flowers upon its bank, finally sheds its scaly skin of silver upon the trunk of the afore- mentioned tree. Compared to such figures of speech the extravagance of the remaining elements comprising the gongoristic style seems pale. Accordingly, one is not apt to be so strongly impressed by the ubiquitousness of its puns and paradoxes, both devices rarely rising above mere verbal quibbles and jingles or rhetorical antitheses. Dicen que ha hecho Lopico Contra mi versos adversos Mas si io buelbo mi pico Con el pico de mis versos A este Lopico lo-pico [489] In spite of the contention that puns are cultist and paradoxes conceptist, the close connection between the two is attested by comparing the pun just quoted with a paradox: in either case it may be seen that there is as much play upon words as ideas. Con la muerte libraros de la muerte I el infierno vencer con el infierno.® Sonnet [253] Two figures of speech, personification and allegory, may also be grouped together, since the second is 38 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE merely an extension of the first, notwithstanding the claim that allegory belongs to conceptism and the other to cultism. As personification is one of the most over- worked devices of the gongoristic school, it is discov- erable in all stages of development, ranging from merely calling the attention to some abstract quality to an elaboration of many of its characteristics, in fact, we may say, up to its metamorphosis into a full-fledged allegory. Uusually, however, a few brief conceits suf- fice to complete the attributes of the trope. La admiracion, vestido un marmol frio, Apenas arquear las cejas pudo; La emulacion, calcada un duro ielo, Torpe se arraiga.10 Soledad primera [999-1002] Allegories may be spun out to immense length, as may be seen from the Soledades, which are usually consid- ered allegories of the seasons of human life, the poet intending to bring the total number up to four. If this plan had been fulfilled on the same scale of the two which remain, the result would have been such a figure in some four thousand lines. As it is, the Soledades which we possess have other allegories embedded within them and even additional ones within these, to say nothing of innumerable personifications so elaborate as to be really allegories on a small scale. A final trait of gongorism remains to be described, and that is obscurity, although from the elements al- ready enumerated it is evident that obscurity must be THE MEANING OF GONGORISM 39 inevitable. While this assumption is correct, we must note a special sort of obscurity which is altogether in- tentional and which results from an affectation of various poetical pedantries. First among these are obscure allusions, frequently couched in periphrases at times so obscure as to be veritable enigmas. Poetry, to the gongorists, was by no means a simple democratic art ; on the contrary the excellence of a composition was rated directly according to the difficulty the reader ex- perienced in understanding it. Just before the death of the emperor Mathias, two comets appeared, and. the date is darkly stated as follows: En afio quieres que plural cometa Infausto corta a las coronas luto, Los vestigios pisar del Griego astuto ?11 Sonnet [326] The astute Greek mentioned in the last line is, of course, Ulysses, and this habit of referring to classical worthies introduces another feature of the poetical pedantry of gongorism. However, far from being as transparent as the allusion to Ulysses, classical references are often quite tenuous. EI bosque diuidido en islas pocas, Fragrante productor de aquel aroma Que, traduzido mal por el Egypto, Tarde le encomendo el Nilo a sus bocas, I ellas mas tarde a la gulosa Grecia; Clauo no, espuela si del apetito Que, quanto en conocelle tardo Roma Fue templado Caton, casta Lucretia.12 Soledad primera [491-498] 40 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE At length, over all this pedantry, as if it were not already obscure enough, there is thrown a richly em- broidered mantle of altisonant poetical language such as poetasters always use to cover up the poverty and the gauntness' of their own ideas. It is a trick quite similar to the sonorous, rhythmical incantations and other occult abracadabra of magical formulae; and, indeed, both are used for the same reason, namely, to create an atmosphere of mystical profundity about that which otherwise would appear as nothing but obvious chicanery. De €ste pues formidable de la tierra Bostego, el melancolico vazio A POLIPHEMO, horror de aquella sierra, Barbara choga es, aluergue umbrio I redil espacioso, donde encierra Quanto las cumbres asperas cabrio De los montes esconde, copia bella Que un siluo junta i un pefiasco sella.13 Poliphemo [41-48] To recapitulate the constituents of gongorism, it may be said that this flamboyant style is made up of a num- ber of elements which may roughly be grouped under two heads: affectation in language, or cultism; and affectation in thought, or conceptism—with the under- standing, of course, that the two classes are not distinct but blended. As to separate elements, those which seem most definitely cultist are neologisms, hyperbates, bom- bast, and involved sentences. Other components which may be either cultist, conceptist or both, are the archi- THE MEANING OF GONGORISM 41 tectonic devices of rhetoric and the use of bizarre fig- ures of speech, especially metaphors, puns, paradoxes, personification, and allegory. Finally there are traits which incline usually, though not invariably, to con- ceptism, and these are the pedantic ornamentations of thought secured by obscure references and mythological allusions. As we have said, this is gongorism seen through the work of the poet Gongora, although it represents at the same time a complete assortment of all the devices used by his school. The next step is to form an acquaintance with some of its most important members and make a few inquiries into the special nature of their own contributions to the exuberant rhetoric so characteristic of the Golden Age. Ill. THE EXTENT OF GONGORISM WAN OF Cordova,” “Homer of Spain,” and “Prince of Lyric Poets’”—such are the titles bestowed upon Gongora by the admiring poetasters of his day; we who consider ourselves calmer and more ma- ture than the men of the seventeenth century, find such a reputation difficult to comprehend. We are apt to for- get the boisterous spirit of that unrestrained period because, after all, few traces have come down to our dry, sober times, of its literary debauches. To be sure its florid exuberance confronts us now and then when we turn to the classics of the Golden Age, ample re- minders of gongorism being present in the purple patches of Calderén and in the precious conceits of Lope de Vega. But time has submerged most of the volcanic poetry erupted during that chaotic era, and the flamboyant gongoristic crater, which once thun- dered so high and awesomely, has rapidly subsided until it is now hardly more .than a small island, still somewhat shunned and unknown, off the mainland of Spanish literature. Yet it is possible with a few sound- [42] THE EXTENT OF GONGORISM 43 ings to fathom the extent of this obscure poetry and by digging under the ashes of three centuries to dis- cover curious relics of a corrupt but once extensive literature; and no more convincing proof of its size and importance can be given than to run over some of the great names of its artistic dead, recall their rdles, and discover how long their esthetic ideals are per- petuated by their poetical posterity. In making inquiry into the relationships and liaisons between gongorism and those long dead, we must not be scandalized to discover that one of the names most frequently associated with the corrupt, degenerate style is not only that of a minister of the gospel but the court preacher to Philip IV himself, Fray Hortensio Félix Paravicino y Arteaga (1580-1633). After all, in spite of his being a preacher, it is not tremendously surprising in that age to find him taking after a mere- tricious style incontinently; and therefore, when he impregnates his sermons with pagan mythology and when their heavy sentences groan and ache with inflated conceptions, it is not difficult to imagine the feelings with which his congregation must have attended the delivery of his rhetorical progeny. While he invents almost no neologisms and uses few hyperbates, he imi- tates GOngora very closely in other respects, especially in the use of puns, paradoxes, and grotesque metaphors. Indeed, so great is his admiration of the Spanish Homer that he heaps upon him some of the sychophancy 44 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE usually reserved for the ears of the Deity alone: “May my offering in gracious cloud,” he exclaims to Géngora, “in equal wealth of fragrance, bestrew thine altars.” Paravicino’s most famous effusions consist of ser- mons composed for occasions of solemn import, such as the funeral panegyric delivered at the death of Queen Margaret of Austria (1611), and the elegy upon King Philip III (1621). He has also a number of gongoristic presentation and dedication speeches, and the elegant minister knew how to turn his hand to verse as well, as the posthumous collection of poems printed in 1629 testifies. Certain of these verses are frivolous and witty—that is, after an ecclesiastical fash- ion—while others, especially the Phaeton, Daphne, and the Europa, are serious gongoristic excursions into the realm of classical mythology. So unrestrained, in fact, is Paravicino’s style that we may note, in passing, that this prolific priest is sometimes suspected of being the father of the swaddled rhetoric usually laid at Gén- gora’s own door. However, since Paravicino’s abnor- mal proclivities scarcely reached their artistic puberty before 1611, this suspicion is not justified, because as we shall see later, Géngora began courting the fan- tastical muse much sooner. Though a preacher’s association with a meretricious style might evoke some comment, the philanderings of Don Juan de Tassis (1580-1622) with the gongoristic muse, are not surprising. This gallant rake, notwith- standing his satires upon the immorality of the court, _ THE EXTENT OF GONGORISM 45 was assassinated because of a passionate love affair with the queen. In his pocket were found some verses beginning: Sefiora, cuyo valor Tanto excede el ser humano, Quien os diera por su mano Un ala del dios de amor !! é This hyperbole is as characteristic of Tassis as his fondness for puns. Indeed, in regard to the latter, there is a story that he donned a suit bordered with silver reales at a masque and impudently advertised his liaison with the queen by wearing on his costume the legend, “Mis amores son reales.’® At any rate his mordant satires and witty epigrams are full of puns, and from. the following jibe at the Alguacil of the court it is not difficult to realize why he was banished thence so many times. Qué galan que entro Vergel Con cintillo de diamantes ! Diamantes que fueron antes De amantes de su mujer. Malicious as his spirit is, Tassis nevertheless be- friended many poets, among the number being Gon- gora, and his interest in the latter was more than casual since he imitates the Cordovan Swan in Europa, Apolo y Daphne, Fabula de la Phoemx, and Fabula de Phae- ton. In these poems he is very obscure, and though he uses relatively few neologisms and hyperbates, he ap- proximates very closely the manner of the leader of 46 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE the movement, whom he befriended and so much ad- mired. Furthermore, Tassis did much for the spread of gongorism in general, because, besides acting as a Maecenas to its individual members, his high position as Count of Villamediana and his reputation with the wits and young bloods of the court endowed the move- ment with sufficient caste and tone to make it an attractive fad for the aristocracy, and once a plaything of theirs its success was assured. With the impetus given gongorism in the pulpit by Paravicino and in the court by Tassis, to say nothing of the stir already created by its picturesque leader, Gongora, the new movement swept the country. But it had enemies, nevertheless, for Pedro de Valencia (1555-1620), a crabbed humanist at the court, immedi- ately denounced the fad with the inhuman bitterness characteristic of so many early humanists. Showing considerably more restraint and intelligence, Juan de Jauregui y Aguilar (1570?-1650), a scholar-poet and discriminating critic, followed with a number of at- tacks, the first printed being contained in the preface to his Rimas (1618). But so invincible was the tide of gongorism that even Jauregui lost his head and was swept along with it, and by the time his Antidota contra las soledades came out in print (1624) he had already written his poem Orfeo in the new style which the Antidota was denouncing. To save his pride, Jauregui claimed that the metamorphosis in his manner was occasioned by trying to translate Lucan’s Pharsalia, a THE EXTENT OF GONGORISM 47 translation, by the way, much more garish and con- ceited than the original. His literary conversion as well as its explanation, however, brought him only the scorn of both sides, each regarding him as something of a traitor. GOngora, for instance, ridicules his style, and charges him with trying to sing in three languages at once. In addition, some anonymous poet questions his literary sex. Vergajo de las musas, qué nos quieres? Declarate en las hembras o en los machos, Que inculto y culto, hermaphrodita eres. So great was the disorder of the unrestrained style, that the forces of conservative literature were obliged to call out the militia of pedantry—always of question- able service in esthetic uprisings in spite of its pre- judices against novelty and improvement—and further, to rely upon satire and lampooning to carry on a sort of poetical guerilla warfare. In this manner the con- servatives mustered a considerable army from which a few names, noted here and there among the rank and file, may be of interest. Cristobal Suarez de Figueroa (1571-1645?), an envious lawyer-poet whose hatred for Gongora was equalled only by his dislike for Cer- vantes and Alarcon, has left a tremendous diatribe against the meretricious style in his Plaza universal de todas ciencias y artes, parte traducida de Toscano y parte compuesta por el Doctor Cristobal Suarez de Figueroa (1615). The terrible pedant, Francisco de Cascales (1570?-1640), in three of his Cartas filolo- 48 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE gicas calls upon Horace and Aristotle to confound the Cordovan Swan; the dilettante Baltasar Mateo Velaz- quez, in the fifth conversacién—Del bueno y mal lenguage of his El filosofo de Aldea (1625), airs his anti-cultist prejudices; and Esteban Manuel parodies Gongora’s Soledades in his Eréticas and Amatorias (c. 1617); The leaders of conservatism, assuredly, were Lope de Vega and Francisco de Quevedo. Although the Re- puesta de Lope de Vega Carpio attacking gongorism was not published until 1621, the dramatist began his innuendoes against the exaggerated style as early as 1617. These were at first very discreet and covert be- cause Lope was in mortal dread of the vitriolic insults of the Spanish Homer, and consequently, at the same time that he satirized the bizarre poetry, he resorted to all manner of boot-licking in order to conciliate him. Even when Gongora sneered at Lope for engendering illegitimates and spewed still fouler bile in his face, the final satires and parodies of Lope against gongorism seem repressed enough. No restraint, however, char- acterizes the interchange of blows between Gdongora and Quevedo. Both parties took off their gloves, for in those impetuous days few men had acquired the polite formality of distinguishing the sin from the sinner, and therefore in every quarrel personalities came uppermost. Gongora attacks Quevedo’s literary views by jeering at his glasses. THE EXTENT OF GONGORISM 49 Con cuidado especial vuestros antojos Dicen que quieren traducir al griego No aviendo mirado vuestros ojos Prestadselos un rato a mi ojo ciego. Porque a luz saque ciertos versos floxos, I entenderéis qualquier greguesco luego. Sonnet [427] Quevedo, not to be outdone by courtesy, pens the fol- lowing reply: Colico diz que tenéis Pues por la voca purgais; Satirico diz que estais, A todos nos dais matraca; Descubierto hauéis la caca En las coplas que cantais. With Gongora’s death, however, Quevedo was forced to become less personal, and accordingly turned his attention to satirizing the gongoristic movement which then had grown to enormous proportions. He ridiculed gongoristic poets in his Entremetido, la Duefia y el Soplén (1628) and two years later burlesqued Gon- gora’s Soledades in the Aguja de navegar cultos con la receta de hacer soledades en un dia. But Quevedo’s most interesting jibe against gongorism, from its re- semblance to Moliére’s satire upon the précieuse, is contained in La culta latinaparla, catecisma de vocablos para instruir a las mujeres cultas y hembrilatinas (1629). There he gives ironic counsel to affected women, instructing them how to counterfeit profun- dity by using obscure language, and how to attain a 50 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE show of refinement by resorting to comical periphrases for the most homely objects. Obviously Quevedo makes a very exaggerated parody of gongorism, but the very fact that it is directed against the conversation of the weaker sex, shows that the movement was no longer confined to the high-sounding strophes of poets, but had begun to color even the small talk of the tea table. In spite of attacks, gongorism kept on spreading. As early as 1635 Angulo notes in his Epistolas satis- factorias some thirty gongoristic poets, and the number of editions of even the least important ones gives a reliable index of the intensity of the craze. Ambrosia de la Roca de la Serna (d. 1649), whose obscure Luz y alma first saw the light in 1623, to judge from the fact that his work appeared last in 1725, managed to impress posterity for over a century. Anastasio Pantaleon de la Ribera (1600-1629) boldly announces his gongor- istic obscurantism in the lines: Poeta soy gongorino Imitador valeroso Del estilo que no entienden En este siglo los tontos.4 Later he seems to have undergone some sort of death- bed repentance, for he gave orders to have all his works burned after his burial, but in spite of his laudable request, five posthumous editions came out within thirty-six years. As for the leaders of gongorism, their _ works had a correspondingly greater vogue. Eight edi- tions of the work of Tassis were published within less THE EXTENT OF GONGORISM | BI than thirty years, and of Gongora’s poems ten editions appeared between 1626 and 1654—more than fifty- six editions to date—while a portion of one of his poems was translated into Latin in order to immortalize it for all posterity. As the century wore on, gongorism seemed to in- crease rather than diminish, the only decline being in the quality, if indeed such a thing can be imagined. Gongora, at least, is a true poet, and even in his most occult incantations there is an exotic richness of imag- ery expressed with a profound harmony that is alto- gether wanting in his imitators. GoOngora may be compared to Keats, a delirious Keats perhaps, but nevertheless a Keats in sensuousness of metaphor and cadence. His imitators, on the contrary, were not great poets, and in affecting his manner they only caricatured his poetical eccentricities, with the result that their extraordinary jargonings entirely lack esthetic justifi- cation. The Rimas poéticas de Don Juan de Moncayo y Guerra (1614-1658), a little nobody with a title, is an example of tasteless extravagance. Another piece of pompous nonsense, Garcia Salcedo Coronel’s Crystales de Helicona (1650), Ticknor aptly describes as “one of the worst productions from the school of Gongora.” To judge from the voluminous doggerel of Don Fran- cisco de la Torre y Sevil (1620?-1681?) one might say that he had compiled a complete encyclopedia of gongorism. Almost as full of fantastic conceits is the Ydeas de Apolo y dignas tareas del ocio cortesano of 52 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE the rhymester Don Sebastian Ventura de Vergara Sal- cedo (1621?-1675), who rose to the high office of alcalde of the hamlet of Najera through panegyrizing its duke. Three editions of Salcedo’s work (1661, 1663, 1666) attest its undeserved popularity, as well as the unsatisfied appetite of the century for gongorism. Still more bizarre is a curious work by Don Gabriel Fer- nando de Roxas entitled Noche de invierno, conver- sacién sin naypes en varias poesias castellanas (1661), an exaggerated burlesque of poems which were al- ready too grotesque, the whole being surcharged with wretched puns and insolent opinions considered by the author as temas jocosos. More interesting, perhaps, are some of the closer imitations of Gongora’s own manner. Augustin de Salazar y Torres (1642-1675) has left among his pro- lific and fantastic verses one direct attempt to follow in the footsteps of the Spanish Homer. At an early age Salazar went to Mexico where he perfected himself in a heterogeneous smattering of “sciences” ranging all the way from Theology to Astrology. According to Cejador y Frauca, Mexico is to be held responsible for injecting the virus of gongorism into his system. How- ever that may be, Salazar no sooner returned to Spain than he showed all the symptoms of this exotic poetical malady. Drawing upon his weird learning he wrote the Cythara de Apolo (1667), and the most discordant tune from his Apollonian zither is a Soledad patterned after Gongora’s. Salazar introduces phrases and even THE EXTENT OF GONGORISM 53 whole lines direct from Gongora, embroidering upon them his own wretched puns. This he does also in his Silvas, where he attempts to be humorous after a strange fashion. Y aquesto lo colijo De que Gongora dijo Que el escribia en las purpuras horas Que es rosa el alba y rosicler el dia; De que se infiere que tal vez comia.5 In his Fdbulas he imitates the style of Tassis but with less happy results, for in spite of that author’s bombast there are occasional flashes of brilliant epigram which Salazar misses altogether. The failure of the imitator to grasp the spirit of the original is particularly notice- able in all the approximations of the Spanish Homer’s flamboyant style. There is always an elusive quality in Gongora’s work, even when most fantastic and obscure, which baffles yet continually provokes imitations. In- deed so profound an impression had Gongora’s Sole- dades made, that half a century later (1718) Salazar’s experiment was repeated by José de Leon y Mansilla who wrote a Soledad tercera, siguendo las dos que dex6 escritas ... D. Luis de Géngora. Leon’s rhet- oric has a sort of Johnsonian sonority, because he faithfully copies Gongora’s hyperbates, neologisms, and tropes; yet, though his poem is quite as bizarre and incomprehensible as his master’s, it lacks the vo- luptuousness of sound and imagery characteristic of the original. There is a poetic ring to Gdngora’s Soledades 54 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE that can instantly be detected by comparing it with Leén’s counterfeit, and this quality alone is enough to explain the strange fascination and influence of Gon- gora’s exotic poem. Surely, if it is possible to conceive of ‘poetry existing apart from all meaning and sense, it is to be discovered, if anywhere, in the Soledades of the Cordovan. During the eighteenth century gongorism shares the general literary collapse. After the luxurious excesses of the creative age, the eighteenth century dawns as dismally as the morning after. Sick, dull, lethargic, and frigid, poetry is too impotent to discharge spontaneous effusions and consequently must rouse itself with un- natural metrical stimulants into a half-hearted simula- tion of its earlier virility. Gongorism in particular de- generates still more in its resorting to meretricious per- versions, not only in style but in subject. Thus the devout priest, Juan José de Salazar y Hontiverso (c. 1734), highly esteemed in the court of Philip V, and familiar with the Prince of the Asturias and his brother, the Infante don Carlos, writes the edifying décima. Nace un fraile que no nace Para padre, y con la bulla, Apenas de la cogulla El santo temor deshace, Quando a todas partes hace Hipocritas mogigangas, Y, en fin, logra pagar mangas, Sin pegarsele un desastre; Y yo, con ser tan gran sastre, No puedo hablar bien de gangas. THE EXTENT OF GONGORISM 55 As for poetic feeling, it was evidently dead already in the past century, if a priest like Don José Pérez de Montoro (1627-1694) could write in all seriousness of the Passion, putting the following irreverence in the mouth of Christ: _Sosego a Pedro, y le dijo: “Amigo, vamos a espacio; Que yo sé que antes de mucho Te ha de cantar otro gallo.”6 In the eighteenth century it is in grotesqueness of meta- phor that gongorism appears most unregenerate. On one occasion, for example, the Chapter of the Cathedral of Salamanca gave Gerardo Lobo (1674-1750) the fol- lowing strict instructions for making a poem to meas- ure: ‘‘God’s factory should be likened to a visible pane- gyric of stones, and the marble images of saints adorn- ing it should be compared to figures of rhetoric, such as hyperbole, involved allegory, personification and pomp.” Lobo’s inspiration evidently rose to the occasion, for he sings that the cathedral is “the orator of itself,’ possess- ing “a Demosthenes in every one of its stones”; the nave of the building is the very “synecdoche and me- tonomy of art,” its cupola “a sonorous prosopopea,” and the whole edifice stands as a “marble catachresis of glory.” Lobo also possesses a unique sense of humor. Aqui yace en concreto un capitan Que en abstracto le dieron la racion: Un utensilo, un pre y una inspeccion Fué su cirrio, apostema y zaratan Manda, pues que la entierren en un pan, 56 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Por si vive en oliendo el migajén: Y no doblen por él, pues la ocasi6n De su muerte fué solo el dan, dan, dan? Muere en fin, consolado, porque al fin, Ya se lleva sabido que es gajé Y a que cosa se llama botequin, Deja tacitas para dar el te Unas gacetas de la Alsacia y Rin, Polvos de Chipre y hojas de café.7 Rhymsters innumerable might be cited who have not even the talent of Lobo, engongorizado, to use his own words, as he was. At a poetic contest in Murcia in 1727 over one hundred and fifty poetasters took part, of which group scarcely a single name has come down to posterity except that of the Padre Isla whose fame, fortunately, does not rest upon his poetry. Inasmuch as Isla was almost alone in his hatred of the prevailing ~ gongorism, it is significant of the taste of the time that he was beaten in the contest—beaten by some “im- mortal’ rhymester whose verses were still worse than Isla’s. Also significant of the time is the great esteem in which these juggling poets were then held. Fray Juan de la Concepcion, (1702-1753) called by Fitzmaurice- Kelly “a gongorist of the straitest sect,” was panegy- rized among his contemporaries as: Doctisimo fray Juan, monstruo en la ciencia, Maravilla y asombro del Parnasso, Segundo Lope, nuevo Garcilasso, A que el mismo Apolo reverencia.8 But Apollo has not dealt kindly with this monster of wisdom nor yet with his equally illustrious Parnassian, THE EXTENT OF GONGORISM ay) José Antonio Burtén (b. 1677), who has left for ob- livion a poem embracing nearly two thousand octaves upon the life of Santa Teresa (1722). For sheer ob- scurity, a sonnet of this unintelligible bard deserves to be noted, if for no other reason than as a final index of the recondite poetry of his age. Corrio Francia a la paz arambel, Ni oyen a Osuna ni atin a Monteleén; No abogara por Francia Lexingtén; Mas la Vieja y Ronquillo hacen papel. Enganando con visos de oropel, No evacua humor francés la evacuaci6n; Francia ya dice oui, ya dice non; Que siempre fué su genio cascabel. No conquista Castilla al portugués, Y el catalan se esta siempre tenaz, Por irle a Francia en ello su interés. Castilla por Felipe pertinaz, Y Francia lo hace todo del revés, Haciéndole mas guerra con su paz.9 Since gongorism had such an incredible vogue in poetry, it is not surprising to find it invading prose. Already we noted that Paravicino introduced the taste for sonorous inanities and fantastic metaphors into ecclesiastical eloquence. So successful was this preacher, that all through the seventeenth century devotional fan- faronades continued to grow in favor as well as volume. By the time this divine mountebankery reached the eighteenth century its inflated rhetoric and ludicrous conceits were so extreme as to surpass even the parodies of Isla’s Fray Gerundio. One pastor comforted his flock 58 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE by telling them that the Kingdom of Heaven was an ab- solute monarchy where sinners were cast into Hell for not paying their debts. Another warned his humble seek- ers after light that paradise was ‘a sacred floriligium which holy Aganipe irrigates in the pleasant, leafy, celes- tial Parnassus of the church.” A third alluded to “The divine Adonis, Christ, enamoured of that singular Psyche, Mary’; and finally a fourth shepherd spoke to his ecclesiastical sheep of the birth of the Saviour as “the lamb of God frisking through the fragrant and fertile pasturage of the Virgin’s uterus.” Written prose is quite as grotesque as the declama- tory, although the violent incongruousness of joining the solemn with the ridiculous, as it then existed in pul- pit oratory, is here altogether lacking. Written and spoken prose alike differ from poetry in that both are less intense. Consequently, the gongoristic elements are also less concentrated, and in prose, moreover, some of the particular constituents of the bizarre poetical style are wanting. Neologisms, for example, in spite of a few notable exceptions, are fairly rare, and in prose hyper- bates are almost unknown. On the other hand, there is a compensation made by introducing traits into prose gongorism which are quite new ; anagrams are occasion- ally used, as is also the omission or transposition of cer- tain letters. However, since the meretricious taste in prose is of interest simply for the light that it throws upon the extent and diffusion of gongorism, we shall THE EXTENT OF GONGORISM 59 note only a few examples of the erratic style in that province. One of the earliest of these is to be found in the work of Vasco Diaz de Frexenal who, as éarly as 1547, be- gan putting Latin words and constructions into his fan- tastic Spanish. A better example, not of Latin hyper- bates and neologisms but of garish slang, dialectisms, and extraordinary tropes, is the Picara Justina by Pérez, written evidently as early as 1575 though not committed to print until 1605. Ticknor describes this curious work as being ‘‘an affectation of new words and singular phrases which do not belong to the genius and analogies of the language and which have caused at least one Spanish critic to regard Pérez as the first author who left the sober and dignified style of the elder times and from mere caprice undertook to invent a new one.’ Comparable to this is the Poema trdgico (really a prose romance) del espaiiol Gerardo y desen- gano del amor lacivo (1615) by the unruly picaro Gon- zalo de Céspedes y Meneses (1585?-1638) who was twice imprisoned and once nearly hanged for an ama- _ tory episode. The six editions which this work went through in less than forty years attest the merit of its passionate and vivid narration, though even when that is taken into account, it is remarkable that the book could ever have endured, so inflated is its style with gongorism. | Still more amazing are a series of what we may call novels—in which the gongoristic style adopts puerilities 60 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE such as acrostics, assonances between sentences, and, most curious of all, the omission of one of the vowels. There seems to have been quite a fad for such works about the middle of the seventeenth century, and the taste for them lasted well into the eighteenth. The pic- aresque author Solorzano has left a novel written with- out the letter “I,” and both Francisco de Navarrete y Rivera (1641) and Jacinto de Zurita y Haro (1654) manifest the same aversion toward the letter “A.” The “Boileau of Spain,” Baltasar Gracian carries this device to such extremes in his Politico Fernando (1640) that it is almost unreadable, but the greatest sinner in this respect is Alonso de Alcala y Herrera whose Varios efectos de amor had so great a vogue that it went through three editions (1641, 1671, 1735). This work is a collection of five tales in each of which one of the five vowels is omitted, the whole thing being rendered still more unintelligible by a smother of amatory sym bolism. 7 The development of gongorism in the prose of the eighteenth century offers a parallel to that of the poetry of the same period. This prose is like a drama with elaborate stage properties but no action, every adventi- tious bizarrerie being used that might dazzle the fancy, but in spite of the glare nothing ever happens. In the fanfaronading of Paravicino there is a certain windy vehemence which at times gives to his sermons the ani- mation of a spiritual scolding; in the sensuous richness of Gongora’s imagery and harmony, there is something THE EXTENT OF GONGORISM 61 of a glamorous enchantment; so likewise in the mere- tricious prose of the seventeenth century, as, for ex- ample, the Poema trdgico of Céspedes, there is a pas- sionate impetuousness which partly sublimates its eccentricity. Again, just as the fire and exuberance of the Golden Age is missing in the lassitude of eighteenth- century poetry, so, too, in its prose there is the same dull heaviness. Perhaps the gongorism of eighteenth- century prose is, after all, not so very much worse than it was in the preceding century, but it seems much more hopeless because it lacks the earlier animation. To be sure, there is little choice between the artistic dementia of the two centuries—none of its productions deserve to be housed with sane literature—but between the tempestuous ravings of a maniac and the utter drool and drivel of an idiot, the first at least has the advan- tages of claiming interest. For this reason, therefore, nothing could be duller than the gongorism of eight- eenth-century prose. Endless meanderings into the laby- rinths of classical mythology, dilettante smatterings of science, digressions upon philosophy, all jumbled to- gether and decorated with grotesque tropes, inflated with rhetoric, and told in an incomprehensible language —such is the chaos to which gongorism descended in that dreary period. How long does gongorism last? To this question there have been a number of answers, each conjecture being based largely upon what its proponent under- stands by the term gongorism. One is almost tempted to 62 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE interpret the variety of opinions by a mathematical formula and state that the duration of gongorism in- creases inversely as the specificness of its definition. Fitzmaurice-Kelly says that gongorism is nothing more than bad taste, but with such disembodied vagueness it might well be endowed with life everlasting, since bad taste is always with us. On the other hand, if we regard gongorism as a style made up of a number of cultist and conceptist elements, in a mixture of more or less constant proportions, a much narrower limit must be set to its duration. Gongorism is undoubtedly bad taste, but all bad taste certainly is not gongorism. Unmistaka- ble examples of the grotesque style do occur far down toward the end of the eighteenth century, but as the French influence becomes stronger these traits become less frequent. Even before the first quarter of the cen- tury is passed, the gongoristic style begins to lose its cultist elements, its conceptism becomes less pro- nounced, and finally as the decades pass there is little left but bizarre metaphors and bombast. The flamboy- ant manner then offers so little resemblance to the style of Géngora and his pleiad that it no longer deserves his name. Therefore, since there is such a gradual de- cline of gongorism, an attempt to state its duration will result in rather categorical limits. Nevertheless, with this danger in mind, we may say with some assurance that the fantastic style began as a widespread move- ment in Spanish literature with Gdngora’s Soledades THE EXTENT OF GONGORISM 63 about 1613 and lasted as such until José de Leon y Mansilla, his disciple, wrote a third Soledad in 1718. For one whole century, then, this literary plague en- dured, sweeping from poetry to prose, from the court and pulpit to the street and thence even into the home. Legions of promising writers were killed by it, and those who volunteered to cure it either fell sick them- selves or saw that their ministrations were hopeless. Surely, the great rage of gongorism is alone convin- cing proof that it was more than a local and isolated phenomenon in Spanish literature, and its long duration indicates that it was much more than an ephemeral illness. There must therefore have been some unhealthy condition in the spiritual life of the people to have nourished such an epidemic; perhaps, then, gongorism may have been not the disease itself but only a symptom of a deeper artistic decay which permeated the very roots of the artistic culture of the nation. ES TOTALMENTE ENGONGORIZADO, SENOR. IV. GONGORISM IN GONGORA INCE AN analysis of gongorism has af- forded an understanding of its nature, and a survey of the extent and duration | has given an assurance of its impor- =f} tance, interest naturally centers upon the one held responsible for this extraordinary style. In the unhappy drama of erratic verse, the poet Gon- gora has played an enigmatic role, and while some claim he was mad and others that he feigned madness, he at least comes down to us as a man whose evil lives after him while most of his good is interred with his bones. Indeed Gongora’s reputation for poetical heresy has brought such anathema upon him that his produc- tions are sometimes shunned as if they all were the handiwork of the Evil One. Like most intolerant opin- ions, this, too, rests upon ignorance, for, if one makes even the briefest excursion into Gongora’s poetry one cannot fail to discover many of the most enchanting lyrics of Spain. Because of this, his contemporary, the critic Cascales, said that there were two Gongora’s, one an angel of light and one an angel of darkness. For [ 64 ] THE GONGORISM IN GONGORA 65 the present study the literary misdeeds of the angel of darkness attract more interest, but fairness demands a passing recognition of the angel of light since, para- doxical as it may seem, there is comparatively little gongorism in Gongora. So versatile is the style of the poet that the two an- gels of Cascales might just as easily be multiplied into half a dozen; or we might resort to the jargon of psy- chology and state that the angel of light has a split personality, each phase of which deserves to be re- garded separately from the rest with quite as much consideration as the white angel is usually shown by setting it apart from contamination with the colored one. There is, for example, the foul poet in, Que Ileua el sefior Esgueua? Io os diré lo que lleua. who pokes his nose into the sewerage carried away by the Esgueva river, “from the third eye” of the human body “according to the laws of digestion.” In contrast to this is the mystic who writes the Jetrilla, Oueja perdida, ven Sobre mis hombros .. . A verse from Sir John Bowring’s deft translation of this deserves notice if only for its own sake. Come, wandering sheep, O come! I’ll bind thee to my breast; T’ll bear thee to thy home And lay thee down to rest. » 66 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE I saw thee stray forlorn, And heard thee faintly cry And on the tree of scorn, For thee I deigned to die— What greater proof could I Give than to seek the tomb? Come wandering sheep, O come! Again, there is the cynic of Dineros son calidad, a poem quite as clever as Quevedo’s satire upon Don Dinero; then there is the lyrist of La mds bella nifia de nuestra lugar, a famous poem which Archdeacon Edward Chur- ton has Englished not unhappily. Finally, in contrast to the stirring ballad writer of the Moorish and Christian wars, such as the Servia en Ordn al Rei, praised by Salcedo Ruiz for its incomparable valor, we may note the exquisite artist of sweet but mournful sonnets. The immortal comparison of life to a rose, made some two thousand years ago by Catullus, and polished so beauti- fully by Ronsard, is brought by Gongora to yet greater perfection. Aier naciste, i moriras mafiana. Para tan breue ser, quien te dio vida? Para viuir tan poco estas lucida, I para no ser nada estas lozana? Si te engafio tu hermosura vana, Bien presto la veras desuanecida, Porque en tu hermosura esta escondida La ocasion de morir muerte temprana. Quando te corte la robusta mano, Lei de la agricultura permitida, Grosero aliento acabara tu suerte. No salgas, que te aguarda algun tirano; THE GONGORISM IN GONGORA 67 Dilata tu nacer para tu vida, Que anticipas tu ser para tu muerte. So famous is this sonnet that it has been translated into English three times—by James Young Gibson, by Archdeacon Churton, and, best of all, by Sir Richard Fanshaw (1608-1666), whose version runs as fol- lows: 4 Blowne in the Morning, thou shalt fade ere Noone: What bootes a Life which in such haste forsakes thee? Th’art wondrous frolick being to dye so soone: And passing proud a little color makes thee. If thee thy brittle beauty so deceives, Know then the thing that swells thee is thy bane; For the same beauty doth in bloody leaves The sentence of thy early death containe. Some Clownes course Lungs will poyson thy sweet flow’r If by the carelesse Plough thou shall be torne: And many Herods lie in waite each how’r To murther thee as soon as thou art borne, Nay, force thy Bud to blow; Their Tyrant breath, Anticipating Life, to hasten death. Gongora, in fact, is capable of assuming such a great variety of poetical roles that it is a misunderstanding of his artistic genius to cast him only as the wearer of buskins or, on the other hand, as the furious actor in high boots. There are such infinite and imperceptible gradations between the poet’s popular manner and his gongoristic effusions that we may say that the angel of light and the angel of darkness are Siamese twins that cannot be separated. 68 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Nevertheless, since there is such a wide differencé be- tween the extremes of Gongora’s distorted and his natu- ral manner, some division of the two styles must be made, even though arbitrarily. This will in consequence enable us to ascertain the quantitative ratios of each and, in addition, the dates of their emergence or disap- pearance. Therefore, regarding the poet as a sort of artistic Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, we shall attach to the unnatural monster, every abnormal esthetic quality which might possibly be regarded as gongoristic, even in the slightest degree. This, to be sure, is almost tanta- mount to saying that everything that is not natural is gongoristic—it thus approaches perilously near Fitz- maurice-Kelly’s sweeping definition of gongorism as nothing more than bad taste. Still, inasmuch as we have described the erratic malady carefully in an earlier chapter, the symptoms should be sufficiently well under- stood to justify no mistake in diagnosis. Hence, when all cases which depart suspiciously from the normal condition of healthy poetry are quarantined with gon- gorism, we are only taking precautions to avoid the possible censure of failing to recognize definite cases of the disease in its lighter forms.? As to quantity, although the general impression has persisted for several centuries that the poetry of the Spanish Homer is largely an impenetrable jungle, a few critics, like intrepid explorers, had reported that the jungle was nothing more than a thicket growing along the frontiers of a pleasant country. An accurate survey THE GONGORISM IN GONGORA 69 made of the field of Gongora’s verse corroborates such impressions, the result being as follows. Out of the total of five hundred poems, only fifty-nine are in any degree tainted with the virus of gongorism. But since some of the poems in question are only a few lines in length while others run up to several thousand, a more accurate count has to be made. Accordingly one discovers that only 4,885 lines belong to gongoristic poems while his total output runs to 24,630. Scarcely nineteen per cent, then, of his work is affected by the flamboyant style. Even this small ratio would be much less had many lines, written in a natural manner, which occur scattered here and there through Gongora’s occult pieces, been credited as normal. When a poem is dis- covered with a discernible odor of gongorism in it, the whole thing may be thrown in with the rest of the gon- goristic garbage, just as one discards a whole egg that appears suspicious without attempting to pick out edi- ble portions. With this procedure, certainly we cannot be charged with underestimating the quantity of gongorism in Gongora. One of the most prevalent ideas about the poet’s grotesque style is that it is exclusively a product of the later period of his career. The reason for this impression is not difficult to discover, since Gongora’s reputation for obscurity is derived mainly from five long poems, the two Soledades, the Panegyrico, the Larache, and the Poliphemo, all composed rather late, that is, sometime between 1610 and 1613. In contradic- 70 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE tion to this impression, however, investigation discloses the fact that the fantastic style is not solely a trait of the poet’s maturity, but that it was formed compara- tively early. In 1583, when the bard was twenty-two, eleven per cent of the year’s poetical output is gon- goristic, and in 1588 it increases to twenty-four per cent. Another common conception of Géngora’s work is that the latter period of his life is exclusively devoted to productions in the exaggerated style. This opinion, how- ever, is not unanimous although characteristic of the majority. Cejador y Frauca for instance says, “Even in the midst of his extravagances Gongora returned from time to time to his true, popular, artistic manner.” Yet here Cejador is guilty of putting the cart before the horse ; it would be more correct to say that the poet never abandoned his “true, popular, artistic manner” but from time to time felt it incumbent upon himself to astonish elegant society with a display of rhetorical fire- works. The survey of Géngora’s work reveals that out of 113 poems composed between 1610 and 1619, that is, during the years when his furious manner was most rampant, only twenty-nine are in any degree exagger- ated. The ratio sinks almost to insignificance for the rest of the poet’s life and proves conclusively that the natural style is the poet’s normal manner and that it persists, even when occasionally covered with a thin scum of gon- gorism, throughout his whole artistic career. One has but to read the popular song Aprended, flores, en mi; the famous romance, inserted by Calderén in one of his THE GONGORISM IN GONGORA vA plays, Guarda corderos, Zagala (both poems 1621) ; or the satiric décimas written the same year as the terrible Soledades, to be convinced that Géngora never aban- doned his natural style. Finally, the investigation illuminates the obscure, yet very important detail, involving the evolution of Gon- gora’s bizarre manner. L-P. Thomas, in two brilliant critiques,” has attempted to show that nothing worthy of the name of gongorism appeared in the work of our poet prior to 1609, and furthermore that the change from the poet’s simple to his occult style was almost an instantaneous transition—a volte-face subite, to use his own words. Although Thomas’ startling conclusions have been quite generally accepted, there are a few critics who question a sudden metamorphosis in the style of the Cordovan Swan. Among these, the Spanish scholar, Adolfo de Castro, suggests that Gongora’s bizarrerie underwent a gradual evolution. “Gongora,”’ says he, “did no more than exaggerate the affectations already discoverable in his poems published in 1605. The Prophet of Cordova resembles those women who paint, and who begin with little dabs, but as each day their eyes grow accustomed to the paint which glistens on their cheeks, each day, also, without noticing it, they smear on more color, until with the passing of time that which at first enhanced their charms becomes only ugliness, ludicrous and repugnant.” The results of our survey partly substantiate Castro’s conjecture, that is to say, they put the climax to the 72 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE maturity of Gdngora’s flamboyant manner prior to 1605, and consequently cast doubt upon Thomas’ extra- ordinary denial of the existence of gongorism prior to 1609. An investigation shows, in brief, that the germ of Gongora’s revolting malady is almost congenital, and while it incubates progressively, it does so with such rapidity and completeness that before 1600, or at most 1605, every symptom of Géngora’s grotesque poetry had fully developed. This, however, introduces a new question—the qual- ity of the earlier gongorism. We have thus far been so fearful of being censured for failing to recognize mild cases of “gongoritis,” that our zeal may lead us to be suspected of the opposite error, namely of confining to the literary pest-house poems which never definitely contracted the terrible esthetic disease. Therefore, in contradicting a specialist of gongorism so well known as L-P. Thomas, it is certainly imperative to produce enough early, bona fide gongoristic patients to sub- stantiate our claim. Accordingly we shall now turn to an examination of the earlier poetry of Gongora. In this connection the reader should be advised that every example of gongorism described in the first chapter of this work has been taken from poems definitely pos- terior to 1610, and not only have they been selected from the poems regarded as Géngora’s worst, but they are in addition all extreme examples of his bizarre style, even as it appears in those pieces. Therefore, by com- paring the analysis of gongorism, contained in the first THE GONGORISM IN GONGORA 73 chapter, with the following description of the poet’s early grotesque style, the reader can form his own opinion as to the correctness of our statement that gon- gorism was fully matured before 1600-1605. One of Gongora’s earliest poems, an ode to a trans- lation of the Lusiades of Camoens (1580) is of interest because it reveals a number of the traits of the exagger- ated style already advanced beyond the incipient stage. The vocabulary, in particular, contains a number of odd and learned words which Thomas would excuse on the ground of being forced by the exigencies of the dactyllic rhyme. Still, inasmuch as the poet was at liberty to choose any other rhyme, this use of dactyls together with the pedantic words which Thomas believes insepa- rable from them, shows rather that Gongora very early entertained a predilection for the novel and altisonant. In this ode we note such words as thdlamo, cdlamo, with the learned superlatives, integérrimo, misérrimo, to- gether with the classical Hiades, Napeas, Amadriades, and Caliope. These are hardly neologisms, to be sure, although they are certainly exotic. Besides this, in the same poem, there are eleven references to proper names, all included within the first twenty-six lines, producing, in respect to pedantry, an effect hardly surpassed even by the Soledades. Moreover, there occur in this early poem the bombast and the jumbled metaphors so char- acteristic of the later gongoristic poems. “The warlike trumpet of the Castilian pen resounds,” begins the ode, “and with its angelic rhyme it exalts to the celestial 74. GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE bridal bed Hyades, Nyades, and Hamadryads.” “Her- rera’s heroics,’ Fitzmaurice-Kelly calls this, and Thomas agrees, although a comparison of the two poets would show Herrera already far outdistanced. Bizarre innovations in language and concept rapidly develop in subsequent poems, so that by 1582 Gdngora’s style attains a remarkable obscurity. Mas luego que cifio sus sienes bellas De los varios despojas de su falda, (Termino puesto al oro i a la nieve), Iurare que lucio mas su guirnalda Con ser de flores, la otra ser de estrellas, Que la que illustra el cielo en luces nueve.3 1582 [15] In the same year the poet introduces the neologisms, tllustrar, purpurea, luciente, and the archaic fructo, while we discover also the first bold hyperbate. Nuevos conoce oy dia Troncos el bosque i piedras la montafia.4 1582 [25] 53-54 Within the next three years these hyperbates attain con- siderable complexity. Sed oi testigos de estas que derrama Lagrimas Licio, i de este humilde voto Que al rubio Phebo hace, viendo a Cloto De su Clori romper la vital trama.5 1585 [53] In addition, grotesque metaphors early become a fea- ture of the poet’s style, as may be seen from a short THE GONGORISM IN GONGORA 75 piece in which he describes the brimming eyes of a grief-stricken woman as “Neptune’s chamber-pots.” Architectonic sentence structure is likewise present in Gongora’s verses almost from the beginning. In one sonnet, written in a single sentence, he repeats the in- terrogative qudl eleven times in the first seven lines, besides throwing in three hyperbates and a neologism © for good measure. Qual del Ganges marfil, o qual de Paro Blanco marmol, qual euano luciente, Qual ambar rubio o qual oro excelente, Qual fina plata o qual cristal tan claro, Qual tan menudo aljofar, qual tan caro Oriental saphir, qual rubi ardiente, O qual en la dichosa edad presente, Mano tan docta de escultor tan raro . . .?6 1583 [34] So hastily does Gongora organize his tatterdemalion troop of neologisms that he presses into service not only words of great ancestry but also those which he finds lurking in linguistical hedges and highways. Thus, an aged word like alholi marches in the same squad as the beardless vulto, ornar, libidinosa, deidad; and lofty, learned terms like cothurno and attesorar, rank with deformed words and obscenities still wet and stinking from the brothels, together with prison, gipsy, and Arabic slang: caga, coz, ma, at, quies, can, gigote, chi- ribica, chero, xeque, Ala. Not only that but foreign ex- pressions with sufficient retinue to form a phrase crowd into the native vocabulary of Spain. Thus from Italy 76 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE comes an tllustri cavaglier and the Romish ioannes me fecit, accompanied by a university scholar tendimus in latiwm and the Petrarchian Fiamma dal ciel su le tue treaze prova. By 1600, Géngora’s practice of introducing alien tongues into Spanish reaches a climax in a sonnet written in four languages. The first line is Castilian, the second Latin, the third Italian, and the fourth Por- tuguese, much after the fashion of the famous Proven- cal descort written in the late twelfth century by Raim- baut de Vaqueiras. This poem of Gdéngora’s deserves citation not alone because of its fantastic hodge-podge of tongues, but because of its bombast, extraordinary tropes, pedantry, and obscurity. It is the worst gon- goristic tour de force the poet ever wrote, and by itself should be sufficient evidence of the early development of his bizarre style. Las tablas de el baxel despedacadas (Signum naufragij pium et crudele), Del tempio sacro con le rotte vele, Ficaraon nas paredes penduradas. De el tiempo las injurias perdonadas, Et Orionis vi nimbrosae stellae Racoglio le smarrite pecorele Nas ribeiras do Betis espalhadas. Voluere a ser pastor, pues marinero Quel Dio non vuol, che col suo strale sprona Do Austro os assopros e do Oceam as agoas; Haciendo al triste son, aunque grossero, Di questa canna, gia selvaggia donna, Saudade a asferas, e aos penedos magoas.7 1600 [118] THE GONGORISM IN GONGORA I | Although Gongora seems at all periods to be free from the vicious habit of alliteration he has a number of metrical innovations which are quite as bad. Some of these belong only to his early period, as for example overworking a single rhyme. One poem of his contains thirty-five lines ending in atonic -o or -os, a second, forty-two in -ote, and a third, fifty-four in -ete. On the other hand there are begun in the poet’s early period, verbal jingles which continue throughout his artistical career. Mandadero era el arquero Si que era mandadero.® 1593 [94] In the same class with these are ‘‘vice versas,”’ some- times sharpened with antithesis or oxymoron. Infernales glorias Gloriosos infiernos.9 1584 [50] Punning is another common feature developed early in Gongora’s word-playing. In a delicate lyric with the refrain: Clauellina se llama la perra; Quien no lo criere, baxese a olella,1° the poet makes the inspiring observation, Otras huelen por la hoja I esta por el ojo huele.11 1591 [85] 78 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Usually, however, there is more sound than sense to his puns. Cruzados hacen cruzados, Escudos pintan escudos, I tahures mui desnudos Con dados ganan Condados; Ducados dexan ducados, I coronas Magestad, Verdad.12 1601 [126] Gongora’s earlier tropes are still more grotesque than those of his later period. His use of oxymoron is particularly striking in such epithets as “sweet scor- pions,” “frozen fire,” “crystal shadows,” “sparks of water,” “sweetly sour,” and, in a reference to the sun, “black rays.” Some of his metaphors are especially ludicrous. He speaks of the “crystal column” of a woman's leg and tells us that it rests “on a small pedes- tal,”—unusual modesty for once doubtless preventing him from describing the volutes at the capital. In one poem Gongora assures us that “blind love breathed smoke and wept fire”; in another he speaks of “white- haired Time combing out the days” (as if they were lice). Again, in a sonnet on the crucifixion, by no means intended to be humorous, he suggests that Christ never could have got cold feet because he was sweating blood. “Help me, lady,” the poet cries out in amorous heat, “make water on my fire’; and, of a lover lying ex- hausted upon the marriage bed, Géngora says “silence drinks him with the desired sweat of sleep” because 39 66 THE GONGORISM IN GONGORA 79 he had “won glory upon the pleasant battle field of the hymeneal couch.” Equally absurd, too, are some of the bard’s references to nature; a holy mountain, for in- stance, “breathes light without puking up illumination” ; and the Spanish Homer rises to the loftiest poetical heights when a waterfall, shot from some dizzy crag, is described with ineffable refinement as “a cliff is urinating.” i Still, nothing can compare with Gongora’s long in- volved tropes. “If thou,” he apostrophizes Music in a cancion upon some departed lady, “cause her beneath this ivy to hear my tears which keep in tune with thy harmony, thy sound will raise up the eighth wall of Troy once more from her cold ashes.’”’ Even more jumbled are the opening metaphors of the poem A un tiempo dejaba el sol (1605, 149). For obscure phan- tasy, nothing the poet ever wrote can equal it. “The time the sun got up from its mattress of the waves, the chamber pot of my soul left the rack in its hovel.” Gongora means that at daybreak, while the sun was rising from the sea, the poet, whose body holds the soul, just as a chamber-pot contains less spiritual fluid, left the bed in his house, as if he were a chamber-pot being drafted into active service. A few lines further on, morning, drying up the dew drops, is described as fol- lows: “The guts of the lambs which Dawn weeps for are used to make sausages out of emeralds and dewy pearls.”’ 80 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE So far in the analysis, we have shown separately — the evolution of the individual elements of gongorism, and, in our desire to prove that each one of these is fully developed in the bard’s early period, we have paid less heed to the effect of the whole exaggerated en- semble. It should hardly be necessary to observe that the various constituents of the style are not isolated; the Cordovan Swan jumbles them all together in one grand aggregate in his early period just as he does in later life. The following sonnet affords excellent evi- dence of the full orchestration of most of the instru- ments producing the bedlam music of gongorism. In this short piece may be heard neologism, hyperbate, apostrophe, antithesis, parallel structure, involved sen- tences, pun, pedantry, altisonance, obscurity, oxymoron, mythological allusions, and revoltingly grotesque meta- phors. Aier Deidad humana, oi poca tierra; Aras aier, oi tumulo, o mortales! Plumas aunque de aguilas Reales, Plumas son; quien lo ignora, mucho ierra. Los huesos que oi este sepulchro encierra, A no estar entre aromas Orientales Mortales sefias dieran de mortales; La razon abra lo que el marmol cierra. La Phenix que aier LERMA fue su Arabia Es oi entre cenizas vn gusano, I de consciencia a la persona sabia. Si vna vrca se traga el Oceano, Que espera vn baxel luces en la gabia? Tome tierra, que es tierra el ser humano.13 1603 [135] THE GONGORISM IN GONGORA 81 In all of Gongora’s later work it would truly be diff- cult to find any fourteen lines with as many or such exaggerated gongoristic elements. Written in 1603, the sonnet proves with certainty that the flamboyant style was fully developed by that date. Moreover, it is even possible to assert with confidence that as early as 1600 the most important traits of the exaggerated manner were already formed and that after 1605 there is virtu- ally no further growth in the quality of gongorism. Only the quantity is increased during the poet’s later years, and even then just for a comparatively brief period. Perhaps a sketch of part of Gongora’s life will help to show how this happened. Sometime after the year 1609 (the exact date is disputed) the poet dedi- cated a panegyric, written in the occult manner, to Lerma. This minister secured for Gongora in 1612 an honorary chaplaincy to the king, and the bard conse- quently came to the court expecting to receive addi- tional favors. He was shrewd enough to realize that his novel style might win for him the recognition that his truly poetical work failed to obtain. Gongora then began to turn out his weird nonsense in thousand-line lots, writing the two Soledades and the Poliphemo (about 1613) although it should be noted that at the same time he also produced a foul comedy, a romance and a number of décimas, all composed in the normal style. As the poet had hoped, he was verily hailed as the messiah of a new gospel of poetry, but unfortu- nately for him, a financial kingdom of heaven failed 82 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE to materialize. Consequently, after starving in great honor for some months, he returned to his home in Cordova, where, bitter and disillusioned, he resumed his natural manner, resorting to the occult style only upon rare occasions. We may consequently speak of gongorism as an in- curable disease which the rash poet contracted from some promiscuous muse during his incontinent youth. As long as Gongora stayed at home his literary chancres escaped public notice, but no sooner did he go to court than, under the fatigues and excitements of high so- ciety, his esthetical rottenness broke out afresh, and the poet was marked forever by Spanish purists as the monster who had infected all the degenerate lyrists of the nation. However, after leaving court and abstaining from its hectic stimulants, the poet regained in the rest and quiet of his home something of his normal poetical health, and this condition continued with few relapses until his death. Thus it may easily be seen that the unfortunate poet had suffered all his life, more or less, from the effects of a very early indiscretion, and while we can trace definitely many of the later cases of this artistic disease in other writers to infection spread by the poet himself, he should not be censured alto- gether, because there already existed literary vices which caused his own contagion. Géngora not only sins but has been sinned against. In subsequent chapters, therefore, we shall conduct a zealous crusade to dis- THE GONGORISM IN GONGORA 83 cover something of the history of the meretricious muse who ruined the young poet’s artistical life, together with a survey of the social, economic, and intellectual forces which made it possible for her to ply her disastrous trade. V. THE ANCESTORS OF GONGORISM +E HAVE seen that the growth of Gongora’s own bizarre style underwent, not a volte- face subite, but a gradual evolution. It is now time to observe that the movement which bears his name is also no sudden creation of his alone but one with a long history behind it. Rhymesters who wrote in an eccentric style before the days of Géngora have never been uncommon, but their influence upon the main current éf Spanish litera- ture, especially during its earlier periods, has been slight. Like precocious children, full of superficial bril- liance, such poets may indeed be worshipped by an ex- clusive circle as prodigies, but only too quickly they find themselves ostracized by their more democratic kindred. Early Spanish literature was simple almost to the point of rudeness. Hence, nice affectations encountered oppo- sition throughout the democratic period of language. Nevertheless, as the conquering Castilian dialect ex- tended its linguistical kingdom to the uttermost confines of Spain, the denunciations of the esthetic Catos were ignored. Literature increased in richness and began to [ 84] THE ANCESTORS OF GONGORISM 85 demand ornate effeminacies until at last, under the lux- urious dominion of the Spanish Golden Age, the mer- etricious vices of gongorism entirely corrupted the virtuous simplicity of Spanish literature. The most important examples of early precocious poetry are to be discovered in some of the four hundred and twenty Cantigas de Santa Maria attributed to Al- phonso X (1226-1284). Latinizations of vocabulary, jumbled syntax, acrostics, alliteration, split rhymes, fantastic conceits, and many other puerile metrical de- vices mar these verses. Although written in a Spanish capital by, or at least under the direction of, a Spanish monarch, their form is quite alien to the traditions of Spanish verse. The subjects, to be sure, drawn largely from religious folk-lore, are popular enough, but the Galician language in which they are written and the wearisome metrical tricks and jingling resorted to, make the compositions seem to be nothing more than transplantations of Provencal affectations. The influ- ence of this artificial Galician poetry is almost negligible although sporadic evidences of its survival may be dis- covered here and there in the various cancioneros of fourteenth to sixteenth-century poetry. For example, Alfonso Alvarez Villasandino, a belated troubadour, occasionally shows himself the most affected of versi- fiers. Hyperbates and neologisms, alliterations, puns, paradoxes, riddles, personification, allegory, obscure references, and grotesque metaphors (the Virgin Mary is called ‘‘God’s marriage bed’’) combine to make some 86 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE of his work more outlandish than that of the Spanish Homer. Andando cuydando en meu ben cuyde Que yo cuydara rren deste cuydar, Cuydando, cuytado, como me mate E por ende cuydo cuydar en penssar; Que sy ovyesse quen de mi cuydasse, Lo que non cuydo cuydar cuydaria Un tal cuydade, porque me lexasse De meu grant cuydade cuydar toda via.! The first author who really succeeds in introducing the taste for affectation into the commonwealth of Spanish letters is Juan de Mena (1411-1456). Before his time that democratic art gave it little recognition although, occasionally, a few exotic verses showed themselves. As early as the Cid there are slight vestiges of metrical jingling which become more conscious in the later epics. Berceo now and then utters a curious line: Torné en Aue Eua la madre de Abel2 and Juan Ruiz is at times faintly reminiscent of Pro- vencal virtuosity. By Mena’s time, however, literature had grown more sophisticated, and its dislike of banality and desire for elegance had prepared it for affectations. Mena stands, then, at the juncture of a rather large tributary which empties a lot of rubbish into the main stream of Spanish poetry. “A true son of Cordova,” Fitzmaurice-Kelly observes, “Mena has all the qualities THE ANCESTORS OF GONGORISM 87 of the Cordovan school—the ostentatious embellish- ment of his ancestor, Lucan, and the unintelligible pre- ciosity of his descendant, Gongora.”’ Truly, a remarka- ble analogy does exist between the two poets. Both use neologisms, hyperbates, architectonic sentence structure, plays upon words, personification, allegory, fantastic metaphors, and obscure allusions. The resemblance is especially marked in the employment of neologisms, for Mena, like Gdongora, culled most of his from the Latin (pigro, ficto, osculto, fuscado, corusco, minag, superno), with a marked preference for pedantic proparoxytones (nubifero, penatifero, armigero, beligero, turbido). On the other hand, Mena’s hyperbates are rather rare and much less revolutionary than Gongora’s. A la moderna volviéndome rueda.3 Las maritales tragando cenizas.4 Que non sé fablar quien lo pueda.5 The older poet, moreover, has a greater predilection for paradoxical conceits and plays upon words frequently garnished with alliteration. Quando vi morir mi vida Y vida dar a mis males, Cuya vida es despedida De quien fué desconoscida A mis penas desiguales. Entonces bien me pensé, Pensé que mi pensamiento Tanto fuerte No tuviera sobre qué Sobre qué darme tormento Sobre muerto.® 88 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Mena’s Laberinto is doubtless well enough known, at least by report, to obviate introducing examples of the use of personification and allegory. As to the use of grotesque tropes,.we may note the poet’s hyperbolic praise of his lady when he says that she was so fair that even God himself could not create a second like her, that her own father could not have begotten her without divine aid, and that even the angels in heaven grieve that they are not worldlings in order that they might contemplate her loveliness. Finally, a fair ensemble of Mena’s gongoristic elements may be formed from a passage in his Coronacion [1438]. Después que el pintor del mundo Paro nuestra vida ufana, Mostraron rostro jocundo Las tres caras de Diana. E las cunas clareciera Donde Jupiter naciera Aquel hijo de Latona, En que un tachon de la zona Que cifie toda la esfera. | Del qual en forma de toro Eran sus puntes y goces Del copioso tesoro Crinado de febras de oro, Do Febo moraba entonces. Al tiempo que me hallaba En una selva muy brava De bosques tesalianos Ignotos a los humanos, Yo que sdlo caminaba.7 THE ANCESTORS OF GONGORISM 89 Although Mena’s popularity was tremendous, a long time elapses before we encounter another example of erratic verse. Indeed so long is the interval that it has been asserted that the taste, interrupted by the later Italianates, completely died out. This, however, is not true; there may be no important example of fantastic verse in Spanish poetry for fifty years after Mena died, but its presence in the prose of that interval speaks of a growing popularity. The Celestina (1499) is full of a pedantry undreamed of by Gongora, and its intrusive latinization incurred censure even in the sixteenth cen- tury. Furthermore, inflated rhetoric and fantastic tropes, especially the use of hyperbole, characterize the chivalresque romances. In the later novels of this class, particularly in the religious romances of chivalry, sub- lime bombast, endless allegorizing, obscurity, and gro- tesque incongruities all go far along the road to the style later called gongorism. In one such novel, for example, Christ becomes the valiant, dragon-chopping Knight of the Lion, the Twelve Apostles, bragging Knights of the Round Table, John the Baptist, the elegant Knight of the Desert with a marked penchant for oratory, while Lucifer comes in as the Knight of the Serpent, half villain, half clown, to make trouble for the serious assembly. In poetry, however, the next important fantastic writer, as we have said, is not felt until half a cen- tury later. Juan de Padilla (1468-1522), also one of the numerous forgotten bards who won the epithet “the 900 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Spanish Homer,” deserves mention not so much for fantastic language, which ‘is nevertheless affected and rhetorical, as for the jumbled pedantry and obscurity especially noticeable in his Los doce triumfos de los doce Apéstoles (1521). In this poem the reader is goaded for nine thousand lines through Hell and Pur- gatory by St. Paul who harangues him the while upon history, theology, biology, astronomy, demonology, and mythology. It is difficult to give the crushing, bewilder- ing effect of the whole poem in a short passage, but the following is suggestive of his style: Por la docena morada fulgente, Hacia la parte del Euro lumbroso, Vimos el alto Carnero velloso Por grados y puntos sobir diligente: En medio tenia el ascendente El lucido Phebo sotil abrazado Partiendo su luz por el cielo estrellado, Y claufreando muy subitamente Su centro no menos cevil que pasado. Some two decades later we find gongorism in pos- session of most of the qualities of the exaggerated style of the Cordovan Swan. Vasco Diaz de Frexenal (c. 1547), already mentioned in connection with the spread of gongorism in prose, attempts to make over the Spanish language according to Latin syntax and vocab- ulary. Not only are his neologisms as numerous as Gongora’s but they are more bizarre; on the other hand his hyperbates, while quite as complex, are not as com- mon. However, the most notable quality about Frex- THE ANCESTORS OF GONGORISM 91 enal’s effusive verse is its obscurity, a trait which is usually to be traced to his use of conceited periphrases and his jumble of pedantic allusions. In the Triumpho nuptial vanddlico he sings: Al tiempo que el fulminado Apolo muy radial Entrava en el primer grado Do nascio el vello dorado En el equinocial : Pasado el puerto final De la hespérica naci6n Su machina mundanal Por el curso occidental Equitando en Phelegon.® As the sixteenth century approaches its later de- cades, examples of fantastic verse become more numer- ous and more exaggerated. About 1575, if we may rely upon the evidence brought forward by Julio Puyol y Alonso, the picaresque novel, La picara Justina, was written. The garish prose in which it is composed is ornamented by fifty jingles which run the gamut of poetical dementia. Here all the metrical tricks as prac- ticed by Alphonso X, Villasandino, and Mena, are carried to even greater extremes. The very titles of some of the Justina’s verses explain their puerilities: Redondillas de solo dos consonantes, Octava de pies cortados, Sonetos de pies agudos al medio y al fim, Saphicos y adonicos de consonancia latina, Sonetillo de sostenidos, and so on. The sense, or oftener the 92 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE nonsense, of these verses is always entirely secondary to the metrical exigencies. mo Pusieron en Iustina sus hermanos Manos, lengua, y tras esto una demanda; Manda el juez pague costos de escriuanos; Bafios, juezes (dize), apelo al Almirante, Ante el qual Ilamaré a Iustes de Gueuara, Bara de manteca i pecho de dimante.1° Mena’s tendency to latinize, carried to great length by Frexenal, reaches here a climax in macaronic verse in which the jargon becomes so absurd as to be suited only to the expression of the ludicrous and burlesque. This genre of verse was common in the contemporary literature of Italy, and in spite of Lope de Vega’s assertion of its rarity in Spain, quite a number of ex- amples exist. The Picara Justina does not neglect the opportunity to show off its accomplishment in this line. Ego poeturrius, cabalino fonte potatus, Ille ego qui quondam parnasso in monte paciui, Iam sum consatus luctas transcendere tejas: Iam cantare nolo porracos atque cachetes; etc.11 Inasmuch as strange verses of this sort had no artis- tic justification, time has condemned them to oblivion. Because of their ephemeral nature, therefore, compara- tively few fragments have come down to us to testify to the popularity which they enjoyed. Such bits as do survive are usually to be discovered either embedded in anthologies or, as in the case of the Justina, in prose works which owe their survival to qualities other than THE ANCESTORS OF GONGORISM 93 the merits of their metrical adornments. Another picar- esque novel, written in 1602 and published two years later, embodies bits of fantastic verse even more extreme than those contained in the Justina. This is the Viaje entretenido by Augustin de Rojas. Among its many loas, described by Cejador y Frauca as “the best which have been written in Spanish,” there is one composed in praise of the letter “A.” . almoradux Alhelies, azucenas, Achicoria, acelgas, ajos, Ajonjoli, alcarabea, Anis, arrayan, ajenjos, Azahar, alpiste, avena, Ampolas, albahaca, etc., etc. In another poem the bard airs his classical and mytho- logical erudition. Que Aiax, Agenor, Europa, Belisario, Curcio, Claudio, Leonides y Marco Sceva Milciades ni Torcuato, Antenor y Briareo, Busiris, Erine, Ismarios, Cygne, Jacinto, Amilceo, etc., etc. Some of these curious pieces may be compared to the meaningless ditties we occasionally hear upon the vaudeville stage. Rojas himself was for a time a fa- randulero or strolling player, and his Viaje entretenido is crammed with the mountebank’s metrical repertory. On the other hand, Rojas has a number of verses which 94 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE are obvious parodies of the erratic style, showing that even before Goéngora had published any of his fantastic verses, the weird manner was sufficiently wide- spread and popular to attract the jibes of this wander- ing picaro. Contumelia y puspusura, Argonauta y cicatriza, Regomello y dinguindayna, Cazpotea y sinfonia, Magalania y cinfuntunia, Zegomella y ciparisa; Esta lengua entiende Rios Y otros que echan bernadinas. Poets loftier and more serious than Rojas also at- tempted to soar into the cloudy heavens of pre-gon- gorism, so that by the time the Cordovan Swan had begun his fledgling gyrations, there were already others on the wing above him. Espinosa’s anthology pub- lished as late as 1605 under the title of Flores de poetas tlustres contains a number of effusive poems written considerably earlier. Gongora incidentally has in this collection a number of contributions in a tumid style although there is no evidence for concluding that his work influenced that of the other poetas ilustres. In fact the flores may be regarded only as a very fair barometer of esthetic conditions in Spain at the close of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth centuries. Each poet then may be regarded as a sort of independent weather vane indicating, according to his own sensitiveness, the coming storm of gongorism. THE ANCESTORS OF GONGORISM 95 Two bards particularly afford evidence of the spread and growth of a fantastic style anterior to, or at least independent of the Spanish Homer. Bartolomé Leo- nardo de Argensola voices extraordinary tropes in an elegy to San Lorenzo. Cual cisne que con ultimos alientos Vive y muere cantando a un mismo punto, Y en el sepulcro y nido todo junto Mas vivos articula los acentos: Tal en la dura cama, en fuegos lentos, El invicte espafiol, vivo y difunto, Levanto este divino contrapunto Cercado de tiranos y tormentos.12 Pedro de Espinosa himself goes to greater excesses in a famous sonnet. Rompe la niebla de una gruta escura Un monstruo Ileno de culebras pardas, Y entre sangrientas puntas de alabardas Morir mantado con furor procura. Mas de la escura horrendo sepultura Salen rabiando bramadoras guardas, De la noche y Pluton hijas bastardas, Que le quitan la vida y la locura. Deste vestiglo nacen tres gigantes Y destros tres gigantes Doralice, Y desta Doralice nace un Bendo. Tu, mirOn que esto miras, no te espantes Si no lo entiendes; que aunque yo lo hice, Asi me ayude que no lo entiendo.13 So heavy did the fog of the obscure style grow that it clouded the very Parnassus of Spain. Lope de Vega, who ultimately waged an unsuccessful war against 06 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE gongorism, has in his earlier work a number of tropes quite as fantastic as any uttered by Gongora. A re- jected lover in the Arcadia thus describes his fair one: Si la frente no era nieve, Era cielo de dos arcos, Que a la lluvia de mis ojos Sefialaban tiempo claro. A cuya sombra se vian Dos soles bellos y zarcos, Zafiros y ricas piedras, Destos que lloran retratos ; Aunque entonces hizo en ellos Dos sellos el amor casto, Que fueron espejos mios Mas fueron cristales falsos.14 Lope here is certainly not imitating Gongora. He was not even given the permission to publish his Arcadia until 1598, and hence he antedates most of Géngora’s bizarrerie. Lope has possibly drawn his taste for con- ceits from the Italian pastoral of Sannazaro but at least these verses may be regarded as additional evi- dence of the vast growth of the recondite taste inde- pendent of Gongora. Lope again furnishes an even better example of the use of grotesque tropes, an ex- ample which goes far beyond any of Géngora’s meta- phorical abortions. In a hymn to the Virgin Mary, written sometime before the end of the sixteenth cen- tury, Lope exclaims: Divina Ceres, Celestial Maria, Diosa del trigo que sembré en tu pecho De Dios el dedo que tus campos labra; THE ANCESTORS OF GONGORISM 97 Trigo que en el piedra de la cruz deshecho Formo aquel pan de nectar y ambrosia Que baja a Dios, de Dios a su palabra.15 It must be apparent then, from the above examples of garish poetry written before Gongora began utter- ing his strange verses, that the Cordovan Swan never originated the style that bears his name, any more than Judge Lynch invented mob violence. The extraordinary character of a fraction of his poetry has, however, with the irony of fate, set him up as a veritable Abra- ham, the founder of a great though outcast race of versifiers, whereas he is nothing more than a single yet picturesque member of a long line before him. As Gongora’s own grotesque poetry came into being through a gradual evolution, so likewise, we have seen, the erratic effusions of his artistical forebears under- went a slow development before they thrust themselves into public notice as gongorism. Yet strange as is the style of this school and its symbol, Gongora, it is no more bizarre than many of the theories that would account for it. VI. SOME EXPLANATIONS OF THE ECCENTRIC STYLE PUNE y ve \ LE LOCO CC CRA 1 | 1 i ‘ ' \ ‘ ! 1 t \ 4 ’ eB) DDISON tells us, in the De Coverley Papers, }of a woman who arranged the books in her library, not logically according to class and subject, but rather, with her deeper feminine intuition, on the basis of simi- larity in style and color of the bindings. We shall soon discover that many of the explanations proposed for gongorism are based upon quite as superficial rela- tionships. Accordingly, as we set about criticizing the classification of this library of theories, we must put to one side those which are unscientific and irrelevant, however attractive their outward appearances may be, and group together those only which possess true con- nections. In this chapter, then, we shall confine our labor to sorting out three general classes of theories: one which involves the influence of earlier Spanish authors to explain Géngora’s exaggerated style, some which regard gongorism as the result of learned opin- [98 ] EXPLANATIONS OF THE ECCENTRIC 99 - ion, and finally a more or less heterogeneous class which attribute it to environmental conditions. Proceeding with the first class, we may note that more than one Spanish critic, observing that both Juan de Mena and Gongora make use of hyperbates and neologisms, has concluded that the later poet copied perforce from the earlier one. In spite of Mena’s influ- ence, however—and forty-eight editions of his work before 1582 may surely be regarded as influence— there is absolutely no ground for conjecturing that Gongora owes anything in particular to him. The in- ferred relationship is as unsubstantial as the old bio- logical classification of bats as birds because both happened to have wings. There is even less justifica- tion in blaming Garcilasso de la Vega, the most classical of Spanish lyrists, for the Cordovan Swan’s discordant song. Yet Adolfo de Castro, culling a score of not unusual neologisms and seven scarcely noticeable hyperbates from Garcilasso’s work, con- cludes that Gongora, observing these innovations, set out to perfect Garcilasso’s style by introducing worse neologisms and hyperbates. With no more reason, Herrera is blamed: “Gon- gora,” says Castro, “copied a whole lot of Herrera’s phrases. Look at some of the examples, (Herrera) ‘The sacred king of rivers’ (Géngora) ‘King of other rivers’ ” We may note, in passing, that the hyperbole “king of 100 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE rivers” is not only one most natural for a poet to make, but it is very common in classical literature; Vergil, for instance, in his Georgics says, “Fluviorum Rex Erid- anus.” The other two reminiscences quoted by Castro are even more dubious, and may be explained either as coincidences or mutual borrowings from a common classical source. No more certain are the few neolo- gisms which Castro affirms Gdéngora copied from Her- rera: crespas ondas, purpureas rosas, tiempo cano, oro ardiente, planta voladora. Nevertheless, these neolo- gisms by themselves, without exception, were in com- mon use before Gongora’s time, some even going back as far as the fifteenth century. The fact then that both poets use them is no more significant than if they both had adopted the same fashion in clothes. Indeed if Gén- gora, with his penchant for outlandish and pompous words, really had copied Herrera, it is quite surprising that he did not appropriate such distinctive words as languideza and venustidad. On the other hand, the mere fact that Herrera and Gongora combine their neologisms in identical phrases, “hoary time,” “crimson rose,” “fleet foot,’ “sparkling waves,” and “bright gold,” is by no means significant, since such phrases have been the trite stock in trade of the poetry of all time. Nevertheless, it is from such scant evidence that Castro concludes, “Gdéngora without Herrera would never have become the Gdéngora of the Pokfema and the Soledades.” EXPLANATIONS OF THE ECCENTRIC 101 Cejador y Frauca holds that Gongora “began by imitating Herrera” without stating definitely just what he imitated, and L-P. Thomas is hardly more specific, although he charges that Gongora approximated Her- rera’s “long involved sentences alternating with other short ones, Biblical expressions, audacious syntax, ori- ental and sometimes obscure metaphors, and finally his vocabulary of Latin and Greek words.”’ As to Thomas’ first charge, neither Gongora nor Herrera alternate long involved sentences with other short ones with sufficient frequency to make this trait a definite characteristic of their styles, or even to set them apart from a multitude of other Spanish writers who use both short and end- lessly long periods. The charge of Biblical references is even more unfounded, because Herrera uses few and Gongora less, and the fact that both poets were mem- bers of religious orders should indicate sufficient fa- miliarity with the Bible on the part of each to obviate the necessity of Gongora’s turning to Herrera in order to glean bits of scripture. Furthermore, to call Her- rera’s syntax “audacious” is a gross misrepresentation, because Herrera’s hyperbates are exceedingly scarce and never revolutionary. Similarly, “oriental and some- times obscure metaphors” is an unfounded accusation. What is an “oriental metaphor” anyway? Something rich, sensuous, and colorful? If so, Herrera’s pale, anemic tropes have never been East of the esthetic Suez, while in regard to their obscurity, which Thomas cautiously limits with the adjective “sometimes,” it is 102 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE impossible to find one metaphor which should occasion any difficulty. Finally, laying the blame for Gongora’s neologisms upon Herrera is quite unjust. Herrera does invent neologisms, to be sure, but they are rarely used in his prose and even more rarely in his verse, and then only when the Spanish language seems deficient for the idea he wishes to express—an emergency which seldom occurs. Both in example and precept Herrera is exceed- ingly restrained in adopting novelties. Indeed in his own day this poet was regarded as conservative. Lope de Vega, speaking of gongorism in a letter, exclaims, “Restore me to the simplicity of Herrera and Garci- lasso.” It is quite impossible to read the verse written by the frigid, academic purist and admit the justice of the charges of Castro, Cejador, and Thomas. There is one other poet, however, who has, in recent years, been quite generally accepted as a sort of literary John the Baptist to Gongora. This is the young rhyme- ster Luis de Carrillo y Sotomayor (1583-1610), whose reputation rests upon a school-boyish translation of a fragment from Ovid, a few rhetorical sonnets, a longer and more stilted poem, the Fdébula de Atis y Galatea, and a superficial criticism of poetry, the Libro de la erudicién poética, which we shall refer to later, all pub- lished together as his Obras, first in 1611 and later in 1613. In spite of all the erudite press-agenting that Carrillo has received for his gongoristic feats, one fin- ishes the perusal of his poetry with something akin to the emotion one experiences in comparing the campaign EXPLANATIONS OF THE ECCENTRIC 103 promises of a popular politician with the actual record of his office. Carrillo’s language, although altisonant, is singularly pure, with few latinizations and even fewer hyperbates. On the other hand, he employs all the adventitious aids of rhetoric, interrogation, excla- mation, apostrophe, and antithesis. Carrillo’s nearest approach to gongorism is to be sought in his tropes, especially in his plays upon words and conceits. Fitz- maurice-Kelly quotes the following: “the proud sea bathing the blind forehead of the deaf sky.” But rarely does the poet utter anything as extreme as that solitary example. Usually his metaphors go no farther than the 9) trite “golden hair,’ “silver neck,’ and “diamond breast” which are discoverable in the numerous effu- sions of his predecessors. In fact, if Carrillo at his worst were compared to the Espinosa of Rompe la niebla de una gruta oscura or the Lope of the poem to the Virgin, quoted in the last chapter, it would be im- possible to treat Carrillo’s claim to gongorism seriously. Nevertheless, G. T. Northup, writing in his Intro- duction to Spanish Literature, asserts that the poet’s language ‘‘can scarcely be called Spanish,” and that “latinization, obscurity and subtlety are cultivated to a degree hitherto unknown.” The following sonnet is a very fair indication of Carrillo’s style. It seems to be written in a language which may be called Spanish, and if the reader will compare it with the poems, just noted, by Lope and Espinosa, he may judge for himself 104 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE whether “latinization, obscurity and subtlety are culti- vated to a degree hitherto unknown.” Amor, déjame, amor; queden perdidos Tantos dias en ti, por ti gastados; Queden, queden suspiros empleados, Bienes, amor, por tuyos ya queridos. Mis ojos ya los dejo consumidos, Y¥ en sus lagrimas proprias anegados ; Mis sentidos, oh amor, de ti usurpados, Queden por tus injurias mas sentidos. Deja que solo el pecho, cual rendido, Desnudo salga de su esquivo fuego; Perdido quede, amor, ya lo perdido. Muévate (no podra), cruel, mi ruego; Mas yo sé que te hubiera enternecido Si me vieras, amor; mas eres ciego.1 The theory that Gongora was influenced by Carrillo should be settled quite summarily by chronology; Gén- gora, as we have seen, developed his flamboyant man- ner fully between 1600-1605, and the first edition of Carrillo’s Obras did not appear until 1611. There has been, however, an effort to show that Carrillo may have circulated the manuscript of his poems earlier. The following sonnet, written by Géngora a year before Carrillo was born, shows the latter already far out- distanced : : Mientras por competir con tu cabello, Oro brufiido al Sol relumbra en vano, Mientras con menosprecio en medio el Ilano Mira tu blanca frente el lilio bello; Mientras a cada labio, por cogello, Siguen mas ojos que al clauel temprano, EXPLANATIONS OF THE ECCENTRIC 105 I mientras triumpha con desden locano De el luciente crystal tu gentil cuello; Goga cuello, cabello, labio, i frente, Antes que lo que fue en tu edad dorada Oro, lilio, clauel, crystal luciente, No solo en plata o en viola troncada Se vuela, mas tu i ello juntamente En tierra, en humo, en poluo, en sombra, en nada.? If any influence between the two poets must be invoked, it should be that of Gongora upon Carrillo. Yet such a conjecture would rest upon no more stable basis than the pretended influences of the other poets, Mena, Garcilasso, and Herrera upon Gongora. If there is any conclusion to be drawn from the fact that the poetical flights of so many songsters tended toward the same direction, it is only this—as the harvest of the Golden Age drew to a close, certain subtle premonitions of a coming bleak literary season made themselves felt among the restless lyrists of the Iberia Peninsula ; then, with scarcely an exception, all flew from the traditions _ of their native poetry. Gongora, Carrillo, and a flock of others were but migrating, in the same direction to be sure, but independently, to some exotic country of the imagination, far beyond the artistic boundaries of Spain. Thomas again makes a great deal of the general in- fluence of poetical and grammatical theory upon the development of gongorism. Renaissance scholars, he holds, considered Spanish to be a corrupt and degen- erate form of Latin and accordingly recommended the 106 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE embellishment and rehabilitation of the vulgar speech through latinizations of vocabulary and syntax. As a result of this, patriotic poets, whose zeal exceeded their discretion, filled their verses with neologisms and hy- perbates. Against this theory one immediately notes that it can explain only two elements of gongorism, the latinization of words and of grammar. All its other con- stituents, especially the use of fantastic tropes, must wait for some other hypothesis. Moreover, the theory, as Thomas proposes it, cannot be accepted unless it is evident, first, that the feeling of contempt was quite general among the erudite, and secondly, that the opin- ions of these men of learning influenced Gongora and his school. Not altogether happy is the choice Thomas makes of the grammarians who occasionally refer to Spanish as a corrupt tongue. He cites the Didlogo de la lengua of Valdés because that author, in speaking of the Spanish language, several times uses the word “corrupt.” Furthermore, Thomas charges Valdés with advocating the borrowing of new words, notwithstanding the fact that Valdés condemns the style of the Celestina on account of its new latinizations. Yet it is impossible that the views of Valdés could have had any influence upon the gongorists of the Golden Age because his Didlogo, though written sometime about 1535-1536, was not printed until 1737. Thomas indeed is forced to admit that Valdés ‘does not seem to have been known to the wise men of the sixteenth and seventeenth EXPLANATIONS OF THE ECCENTRIC 107 _ centuries,” but he makes the plea that the grammarian “faithfully reflects the opinions of his age.’’ We shall see very soon that there were a great number of con- temporaries of Valdés who held opposite views, but these Thomas dismisses with the comment that they were making preuve d’un patriotisme plus intransigeant. Thomas cites another authority who speaks of Span- ish as “corrupt,” the anonymous author of the Util y breve institucion, para aprender los principios y funda- mentos de la lengua lspanola. This is a queer little hodge-podge grammar, printed in 1556 in Louvain, never well known in Spain, and so rare, indeed, that Thomas himself could not secure a full copy but had to draw his conclusions from a five page extract con- tained in Vifiaza’s collection of grammarians, the Bi- blioteca histérica de la filologia espanola. The text of the anonymous grammar is written in Spanish, French, and Italian and in addition contains a passage which to all appearance seems to be some odd prose macaronic of Latin-Spanish. Scribo et supplico rogandote des et respondeas taeles pro- bationes de tua eloquentia, loquela et excellentia, cuales scribo de Hispania; comparando gentes, nationes et provincias, quales manifesto dictando epistolas puras Latinas et Hispanas . etc., etc.3 This passage, Thomas concludes, is proof that Span- iards regarded Latin “as their own property and did not hesitate at all to make use of its riches.” 108 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Much more important is Thomas’ citation of Ber- nardo de Alderete’s Del origen y principio de la lengua castellana, which, however, was not printed until 1606. It is quite true that Alderete does twice use the word “corrupt” in referring to the Spanish language, but he surely makes ample apology at the conclusion of his grammar where, after showing that Spanish is a per- fect medium for the expression of any science or sub- ject, he makes the statement that it is not inferior either to Greek or to Latin. Furthermore, Alderete em- phatically condemns the use of latinisms, and since he was a close friend of Gongora’s, that poet could have received little encouragement from him for his neologisms. Thomas also impresses into service the Discurso sobre la lengua castellana (1546) of Ambrosio de Morales because that grammarian voices a lament that Spanish is no longer used for works of weight and merit. This, Thomas believes, is evidence of the dis- esteem in which the language was held. Morales is further credited with advising a distinction between the language of literature and the language of the people. In spite of that, it is altogether unfair to credit Morales with circulating unfavorable opinions concern- ing his own language. The whole tenor of the gram- marian’s work is that Spanish is in no wise an inferior language but rather one which is capable of the most delicate concepts and the loftiest expressions. Never does Morales advocate d’eloigner le parler littéraire de EXPLANATIONS OF THE ECCENTRIC 109 celui du peuple as Thomas affirms. All he says is that in Spain there is no care taken to teach the native idiom as there was in ancient Greece and Rome and as there was at his time in Italy. Consequently the grammarian regrets that there was then no difference between the speech of the rude country yokels from the remote provinces and the courtiers of the imperial city. Never does Morales ask for any radical separation of literary from popular speech, but only that a reasonable amount of attention be devoted to teaching correct Spanish. In fact he says, “I do not say that you should shave our Castilian language, but that you should wash its face. Don’t paint its cheeks but remove the dirt; don’t trick it out with brocades and embroideries, but let it have a decent enough suit so that it can go about with becoming gravity.’’ Morales even goes out of his way to censure specifically those persons who attempt to introduce neologisms and hyperbates. “Some few asi- nine Spaniards,” he says, “talk so that nobody can understand them because they want ignorant people to think that they are learned.” This is far from being propaganda for gongorism. Herrera, however, is the main buttress of Thomas’ argument. Speaking of the Obras de Garci Lasso con anotaciones de Fernando de Herrera, Thomas says, “Herrera advised the poet to use discretion and cau- tion, observing the laws of analogy and likeness; but in stating that ‘it is permissible to conceive innumerable tropes,’ that poets may make use of ‘words from every 110 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE language,’ that ‘poetry is amenable to its own rules and jurisdiction without any constraint,’ in saying that ‘poets speak a different language,’ in striving to make it ‘different from the common speech,’ the ‘divine’ and ‘altisonant’ poet prepared the way for the excesses of his followers; he authorized the creation of an entirely artificial language wholly distinct from common prose and in organic contradiction to the laws of romance languages.” We shall examine Thomas’ conclusions in the order in which he propounds them. First, as to Herrera’s “preparing the way for the excesses of his followers,” it should be noted that the poet so hedged his theories about with provisos that their revolutionary effect is altogether vitiated. Herrera practiced just what he preached, and his conservative verses are sufficient evi- dence to exonerate him from inciting any poet to ex- cesses. Moreover, Herrera had no followers. It is sig- nificant that Gongora, who heaps praise upon Garcilasso and a number of contemporary bards, has never men- tioned Herrera. Even the inference is not justified that Gongora, the roistering youth who always was averse to study, had the patience to wade through Herrera’s intricate critical work. Furthermore, in this connection Adolphe Coster concludes from certain indications that the 1582 edition containing Herrera’s critical views was never put on sale and that consequently the 1619 edition is Herrera’s first appearance. Even if circulated, the earlier edition could scarcely have prepared the way EXPLANATIONS OF THE ECCENTRIC lll for gongorism, for we have seen that the exaggerated style was well developed in the verse of Spain even be- fore the seventeenth century. Besides, as Coster ob- serves, “The responsibility can hardly be imputed to Herrera, for he was only too little known in his own life time and was forgotten almost immediately after his death.” Secondly, Herrera did not “authorize the creation of an entirely artificial language wholly distinct from prose and in organic contradiction to the laws of ro- mance languages.”’ Herrera, emphasizing the demand that poetry should be clear, takes special pains to con- demn the gongoristic obscurity caused by artificial words. “Words are the images of thought and the clarity which derives from them should be lucid, fluent, free, agreeable and entire; not recondite, not labored, not harsh nor jumbled.” Again in discussing the pro- priety of speech, Herrera strictly limits the invention of neologisms to those cases alone in which the Spanish language has no word for the idea which the poet wishes to express. Furthermore, Herrera warns the poet that such occasions are exceedingly rare, often indeed only apparent because the would-be inventor of the neolo- gism is ignorant of the resources of his own language. Even where the neologism is actually justified, Herrera insists that the new word must not be formed in con- tradiction to the genius of the language, and that it must be harmonious and shall not show affectation. In short, while Herrera is an advocate for true poetical 112 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE liberty, he is a bitter antagonist of poetical anarchy and hence jealously guards his poetical constitution by such intricate and careful rules that it would be impossi- ble for any one who lived up to them to lapse into the chaos of gongorism. But, says Thomas, “‘poets see only what they want to see in critical works,” an observation that might be conversely applied. : Finally Thomas invokes Carrillo’s Libro de la erudi- clon poética to explain how Gongora arrived at his ab- struse style. Briefly considered, Carrillo’s theories are as follows: to ennoble the Spanish language through lofty latinizations, to eschew clarity and to affect a certain amount of obscurity, and, finally, to write only for a select and aristocratic class of readers—in short, in word and idea to be above the heads of the multitude. It must be admitted that Gdéngora’s attitude, in his flamboyant style, is quite identical with Carrillo’s, but for that matter Juan de Mena had the same ideas a century earlier, and the conception of conscious ob- scurity in literature was familiar to Juan Manuel who gives his reasons for avoiding it in the preface to the second part of the Lucanor. The views of Carrillo, then, are certainly not novel, though Thomas would make them the cause of Gongora’s weird style. However, Carrillo’s Libro de la erudicién poética did not appear until 1611 and Thomas believes that Géngora wrote nothing in his exotic manner before 1609. Accordingly, Thomas supposes that Carrillo circulated his Libro in manuscript as early as 1607, and that Géngora who, by BaPUANATIONS OF THE ECCENTRIc 113 the way, hated the Carrillo family, read it and forthwith experienced a wolte-face subite conversion and began writing in his strange style. Inasmuch as we know that Gongora’s new manner was fully developed about 1600- 1605, Carrillo’s Libro can have had no influence upon him. Additional evidence can be furnished to show not only that Spanish was not generally regarded as a cor- rupt and degenerate tongue but that a considerable feel- ing of hostility existed toward the growing menace of gongorism. As to the first, the greatest humanist and scholar of Spain’s Renaissance, and without doubt the most influential one besides, has left a study, the Gra- matica castellana, por el Maestro Elio Antonio de Ne- brija (1492), which treats the mother tongue with a seriousness that almost approaches reverence. Nebrija makes numerous comparisons between Spanish and the classical languages, resulting altogether to the advantage of his native idiom. Yet what is most remarkable in this connection is his attitude toward Greek and Latin neologisms; such words he condemns as “barbarous.” Space will permit the mention of only the names of a number of savants who, far from admitting that Spanish is a degenerate or corrupt tongue, laud it to the skies as only Spaniards can. Francisco Malon de Cahide considers the language superior to Greek and Latin; Francisco Pedro de la Vega, Cristobal de Fon- seca, and Francisco Hernando de Santiago voice equally eloquent opinions; while Francisco de Medina outdoes 114 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE them all in the vehemence of his arguments for the superiority of Spanish. Martin de Viziana, in his Libro de alabancas d’las lenguas hebrea, griega, latina, cas- tellana y valienciana, makes a great many comparisons between the two Spanish dialects and the learned lan- guages, all redounding to the glory of the former. Similarly, throughout the writings of the erudite Span- iards of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the same admiration for the native idiom is discoverable. Some European humanists may have affected a disdain for their own languages, but the intense affection of Spaniards for their mother tongue ever kept them from casting any slur of reproach upon her. On the other hand, the same bitter intolerance toward linguistical heresy is to be found among the denouncers of gongorism as among those passionate churchmen who set up the Inquisition for the glory of God. We have already noted in an earlier chapter how savagely Quevedo attacked gongorism, especially its latiniza- tions, in his Culéa latinaparla, and how Jauregui and Lope joined in the assault. It is interesting to discover that even before Géngora began his mad effusions there existed lampooners of affected poetry. In those early denunciations of the flamboyant style it is usually the metaphorical language rather than latinizations which incurs censure. Gregorio Silvestre before the end of the sixteenth century wrote in his La vista de Amor: El subjeto frio y duro, Y el estilo tan obscuro, EXPLANATIONS OF THE ECCENTRIC 115 Que la dama en quien se emplea Duda, por sabia que sea, Si es requiebro o si es conjuro.4 Still earlier, Luis Barahona de Soto (1547-1595) penned the following parody of the periphrases of gongorism : Una razon gallarda, por figura, No niego que es virtud de cuando en cuando; Mas ir en ellas:simpre no es cordura. Decir, por la manana, entonces cuando El gran cochero que en las ondas mora Va del paropamiso transmontando, Y, por verano, al tiempo que el Aurora A su morado antigua vuelve, y Febo El uno y otro cuerno al Tauro dora, Aquestas ni otras tales no repruebo; Mas los extremos juzgo por gran vicio, Aunque para juez soy muy mancebo.5 Baltasar del Alcazar (1530-1606), a witty soldier-poet, mocks the obscurity of esoteric poetry. Haz un soneto que levante el vuelo Sobre el Caucaso, monte inaccesible, De estilo generoso y apacible Lleno de variedad de Cipro y Delo. Con perlas, ambar, oro, grana y yelo, Nieve quise decir, no fué posible: No sea lo esencial inteligible Pues no ha de faltarle un Velutelo.® Such satirical passages indicate beyond a doubt that the growing taste for exotic verse encountered censure before Gongora. The democracy of the Spanish people 116 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE scorned alike the conceits of affected poetry and the linguistical amendments of fanatical pedants. Far from there being a general impression of the paucity and inferiority of the Spanish language, there comes to the people throughout the Golden Age a growing realization of the power, richness, and perfection of their own vernacular—a realization which gave to the nation the greatest literature she has ever known. The flotsam and jetsam of exoteric verse, and the obstructions of the erudite, instead of damming up the main current of art in that abundant century, only made it flow the swifter. Yet at the same time, gongorism was slowly gaining like a malignant disease, spreading through the whole system of the nation’s culture, ultimately causing its artistic death. Critical purgatives and satirical anti- toxins only raised its fever and assisted the ravages of the sickness. A cure was wanting because no one under- stood the mysterious nature of the malady, and now that the Golden Age has forever passed away, the eru- dite who have conducted a critical autopsy voice an amazing diversity of opinion as to the cause of gon- gorism. Some hold that the disease was engendered by climatic conditions, some that it was the result of racial mixture, some that it was produced by unhealthy social and political conditions, and finally some would excuse Gongora’s own poetical rampages on the ground of insanity. EXPLANATIONS OF THE ECCENTRIC 117 The conception of climate as a determining influence upon literary character was a popular hypothesis among the philosophers of the eighteenth century; and the Italian literary historian, Tiraboschi, resorted to it as an explanation for gongorism. Since that time the idea has been justly scouted although L-P. Thomas has shown himself susceptible to its intrigues. To be sure he first denounces the climate hypothesis as “a phantasy stripped of all foundation,” but he then proceeds with a description of the geographical and meteorological conditions of Spain, enticing the reader to admit that it should not be illogical to expect a sunny, varied, ex- uberant literature from the fertile southern plains of Andalusia, and, on the other hand, a satirical literature from the frosty mountains of Castile. He further ob- serves that Lucan, Seneca, Martial, Juan de Mena, and Gongora all come from about the same locality, where- upon the reader may infer that there 1s some mias- matic condition in that particular spot which engenders the cultural malaria of gongorism. Quite as baseless is the hypothesis which would ex- plain gongorism as the result of racial mixture ; Thomas also reserves a paragraph for this. In substance, he ob- serves that in the Southern part of Spain there is a much higher mixture of Cro-Magnons, Iberians, Celts, Carthaginians, Romans, Jews, Goths, and especially Arabs, than in the North. Again the reader may deduce that in some mysterious way a heterogeneous race must produce a literary style made up of a hodge-podge in 118 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE tropes, vocabulary, and syntax. Just why this racial mixture should make itself felt most strongly in the literature of the seventeenth century than at any other time, Thomas does not say, nor does he attempt to ex- plain how the racial mixture could influence only Géon- gora’s fantastic style without affecting his more usual natural manner. Obviously, the racial hypothesis, as well as the meteorological, is founded upon nothing but superficial impressions, and like an impressionistic painting will not bear close inspection. Deserving of more consideration is a theory of the historian of Spanish literature of the past century, George Ticknor. Attributing gongorism to the censor- ship exercised by the Inquisition upon men’s minds and speaking of the foibles of gongorism, he says, “that such follies should thrive more in Spain than elsewhere was natural. The broadest and truest paths to intellectual de- velopment were closed; and it was not remarkable that men should wander into byways and obscure recesses. They were forbidden to struggle openly and honestly for truth, and pleased themselves with brilliant follies that were at least free from moral mischiefs.” In con- sidering this theory let us remember that first of all we do not have an impartial account of the Inquisition. On one hand, H. C. Lea in his History of the Inquisi- tion of Spain charges that institution with all the ills the Spanish nation is heir to; on the other, Juan Valera-and Orti y Lara claim that the very greatness of the Golden Age was largely due to it. Certainly “the EXPLANATIONS OF THE ECCENTRIC 119 broadest and truest paths to intellectual development”’ were hardly closed in Spain, for Menéndez y Pelayo has shown that the Spanish Index does not condemn— with the exception of a few insignificant details—the work of Newton, Galileo, Copernicus, Bacon, Spinoza, Hobbes, Leibnitz, and many more who were regarded in other countries with a far more. suspicious eye. Again, one may observe that the Inquisition could not stop the circulation of the bitter satires directed against the church by churchmen themselves. Indeed, one may doubt the efficacy of the church censor just as one may question the value of all professional prohibitionists and holy-men. Either the satanical perversity of carnal man is past redemption, or else the feeling for personal liberty is too strong for ecclesiastical coercion; at any rate it is almost axiomatic that the surest way to spread a gospel is to persecute it, and the most infallible method of advertising a dangerous book is to ban it. The enormous number of books (the 1681 Index lists over 9,000 authors) placed upon the Index is as much an indication of the irrepressibility of human endeavor as it is of the vigilance of the Inquisition. Stopping a printing press has never stopped a nation from think- ing, and the hangman has never been able to destroy ideas by burning books. Then, in addition, we may exonerate the Inquisition from the charge of creating a flamboyant style, when we note that in England, where no Inquisition existed, there developed a similar style which flourished with great luxuriance and colored 120 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE even the work of Shakespeare. Finally, we may observe that at the very time when Géngora was writing his “brilliant follies’ Spain produced her literary master- pieces. Surely it would be inconsistent to attribute to the Inquisition the degeneracy of the lyric and free it from contaminating the novel and drama. | Quite as fallacious is the theory which attributes gon- gorism to the political decadence of Spain. Here, too, the advocates of this theory fail to look beyond the borders of Spain for verification or disproof. Yet if the flamboyant style owes its existence to political de- cline in Spain, similar styles in England and France should have identical causes; otherwise political de- generacy is only coincident or at best concomitant with literary decay. Yet during the euphuism of England, and the ronsardism of France, the very opposite po- litical conditions prevailed. And _ political chaos, far from engendering a literary debacle, seems at times almost to be a stimulant. Italy’s greatest literature arose from political conditions even more ruinous than those attending Spanish gongorism. During the feuds of the Guelphs and the Ghibellines the Divine Comedy was born, and the classics of Italy’s sixteenth century came out of a political environment little better than anarchy. Here, too, as we have just observed, the effusions of Gongora were contemporaneous with the classics of the drama and the novel. The fact, then, that Spain’s po- litical power was going to the winds is altogether irrelevant to the phenomena of gongorism. EXPLANATIONS OF THE ECCENTRIC 121 A corollary of the political decadence hypothesis at- tempts to see in gongorism the result of a moral col- lapse brought about by a combination of political weak- ness and the influx of vast wealth from Spain’s Amer- ican colonies. Here once more we must object that the great novel of Cervantes and the lyrics of Gongora were contemporaneous, and if moral degeneracy is to affect literature there is no reason why it should choose one genre and reject the other. Again, if moral laxity and magnificence induce literary collapse, one cannot help wondering how Moliere and Racine could have produced such great work. Surely the court of the Roz Soleil was no whit less opulent or corrupt than that of the Spanish kings ; and Moliére and Racine, protégés of the king, were certainly in better financial condition than Gongora, who spent all his bitter life in poverty. The statement that during the Golden Age there was great moral corruption, as well as the assertion that Spain was flooded with wealth, deserves to be taken with some suspicion. First of all, apart from the almost fanatical piety and austerity which have always char- acterized the Spanish, it should be remembered that during the seventeenth century the power and influence of the church were exceptionally strong, and at the same time the opportunity for moral excesses was no greater than it had ever been, nor was it as great even as it is today. Much of the opinion of moral turpitude of the seventeenth century has been gleaned from the pic- aresque novels, but it is quite as risky to read the na- 122 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE tion’s morals from these as it would be to draw an opposite picture from the chivalresque romances which had an even greater vogue. Amorous intrigues, of course, existed, as well as cape-and-sword bloodlettings, sensational robberies and melodramatic revenges, but let us beware of taking them too seriously as moral barom- eters of the age. Secondly, in regard to the financial opulence of the Golden Age, it was no help to the nation that wealth was pouring in from the mines of Mexico and the Andes when it was being spent still faster on ruinous wars. In one year alone (1595), thirty-five mil- lion ducats in gold came to Seville, but at that very time the government was so abjectly poor that officers were appointed to go about from house to house accompanied by the priest of each parish to beg alms for the king. “The master of the New World,” writes Hume, “with its countless treasures, had no money to pay for his household servants, or to set forth the meals for his own table.” Surely, if the monarch of the land were so poor as that, it cannot reasonably be expected that humble poets lived in an atmosphere of enervating Oriental opulence. A final theory seeks to discover insanity as the cause of Gongora’s exotic style. The basis for this rests upon the following facts. In 1590 while on a mission for his order, Géngora fell ill and was forced to remain in Madrid for a month. The precise character of the illness is unknown, but inasmuch as the poet suffered later from a cerebral attack it is quite convenient for EXPLANATIONS OF THE ECCENTRIC 123 the protagonists of the insanity hypothesis to attribute every sickness which the young cleric might contract in ' those lecherous, unsanitary times, to some mental de- rangement. Later—that is, sometime between 1593- 1594—Gongora fell seriously ill and for three days re- mained in a state of coma so complete that it is said that his friends believed him dead. This attack seems to have passed as rapidly as it came, leaving no ill con- sequences, since the next mention of trouble does not come until sixteen years later. From another mission in 1609 Géngora returned out of the north of Spain in bad health. After a brief recovery he suffered a slight relapse in 1610 and finally, while accompanying the king and his retinue on a trip through Aragon in 1626, he fell sick and was forced to return to Cordova. There is absolutely no ground for concluding that this last illness was an insanity. Indeed, with reason Fitz- maurice-Kelly says in his History of Spanish Litera- ture, “The story that he died insane is a gross exag- geration.”’ Nevertheless, Thomas, endeavoring to base as much as possible upon a legend, writes, “Seized with violent headaches and total unconsciousness, he lost his reason and died the twenty-third of May, 1627.” It is of the 1609-1610 sickness that Thomas makes the most, because it is during those years that he believes that Gdongora experienced his volte-face subite con- version to gongorism. “Is it any wonder,” he asks, “that his tendencies toward a recondite style should be ac- centuated first suddenly and then progressively under 124 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE the influence of the sufferings of his disordered brain?” We have seen, however, that Géngora’s “tendencies to- ward a recondite style’ were not “accentuated sud- denly” but rather underwent a gradual evolution, reach- ing their full development in 1600-1605. For this reason Thomas’ desperate but unsuccessful effort to codrdinate Gongora’s Panegyrico and Larache with this sickness need not engage our attention. It is suggestive, more- over, to observe that far from the 1609-1610 sickness being mental, as Thomas tacitly infers, it is quite probable that it was altogether physical; an indisposi- tion caused, if we may read anything out of the O mon- tanas de Galicia, which describes the country he then visited, either by abominable food, unsanitary living conditions, or what is even more likely, by unsanitary peasant girls whom the lecherous-minded priest de- scribes elsewhere with great gusto as Mozas rollizas de anchos culiseos. Thomas denounces the Larache in no uncertain terms. “I refuse to believe that the Ode on the Capture of Larache is the work of a man in full possession of his mental faculties. It seems to be the work of a faker or a fool” (fumiste ou d’un fou). Yet Thomas is in- consistent in his reasoning, because if Goéngora had to be a fumiste or a fou to write the Larache, he should also have been much more of a fumiste or fou to write the Soledades which are infinitely worse. But inasmuch as there is no mention of Géngora’s losing full posses- sion of his mental faculties in 1613 when these poems EXPLANATIONS OF THE ECCENTRIC 125 were supposedly written, Thomas discreetly refrains from forcing the Soledades to testify to the insanity theory. Nevertheless, if the poet had to be crazy to write one gongoristic effusion it is only logical to infer that he was proportionately insane when he wrote others. Inas- much as every year between 1582 and 1622 is marked, with few exceptions, with some fantastic poem, we must conclude that from the poet’s twenty-first until his sixty-first year he was more or less insane. If this were true, the religious order that intrusted him not only with missions of great importance but also with its money, was taking a considerable risk. Furthermore, one should expect some especially pronounced evidences of poetical dementia when we know that Gongora was actually sick. Yet it is surprising to find that during that timé he produced relatively few bizarre poems, while on the other hand, in the years that his most stupendous gongoristic effusions occurred there is no record of any sickness. Even granting that the poet were sufficiently insane between 1582 and 1622 to produce gongoristic verses, how is it possible to explain all the poems, five times as numerous, which were written during the same period in the normal style? Are we to suppose that Gongora’s strange insanity seized him only when he wrote silvas and sonnets and left him when he wrote romances and décimas? Again why should this dark cloud descend upon him when he wrote panegyrics to his friends and disappear when he undertook to satirize 126 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE his enemies? If Géngora could have been mad when he wrote the Soledades he certainly regained full pos- session of his mental faculties in the clear, venomous satire, A los que dicen contra las Soledades, written about the same time. Are we to conclude from this that he was defending during his sanity what he had written during insanity? Moreover, if Thomas believes that Gongora was not in full possession of his mental facul- ties when he wrote the Larache, why should he not also suspect the mental equilibrium of the king and court who applauded him? What reason is there to suppose that an artist is unbalanced who has the acumen to sup- ply the demand that a silly public creates for crazy fads? Truly, if, Gdngora were mad there must have been some method in his madness because, as we have already observed, his poetical extravagances alpne brought him the recognition that his works of genuine merit failed to obtain. Evidently the origin of gongorism lies neither in the headaches of the Spanish Homer nor in the environ- mental conditions of the land in which he lived; it is not due to the influence of pedants, nor is Gongora him- self an imitator of earlier authors who wrote in an ex- aggerated style. Almost without exception the theories we have examined have regarded gongorism as an iso- lated phenomenon peculiar to the literature of Spain. We have noted here and there already that movements similar to gongorism exist in the literatures of other countries; perhaps if we employ the comparative EXPLANATIONS OF THE ECCENTRIC 12/7 method and investigate the phenomenon as it appears elsewhere, we shall gain a profounder understanding of the meaning and the seriousness of this artistic psychopathy. == 7 =S a * i) ey = ime Uniti, x oll iN \ ey wl AD OCULUM ORACULI DELPHICI CAECUM CONSULTANDUM VII. MERETRICIOUS VERSE IN OTHER LITERATURES ANY OTHER literatures besides that of Spain furnish in some period of their evolution very close parallels to gon- gorism. In some instances the similarity is so astonishing that it is not difficult to understand why the poetry of those epochs has been suggested as a cause of the Spanish extravagance. In- deed, such a possibility becomes almost a conviction when some general influence between the literatures in question can be shown. Nevertheless, the fallacy of this conclusion should be quite evident, for it is analogous to imputing the senility of one individual to that of another, and, when the two persons have been friends, drawing the conclusion that the mental meanderings of the elder have caused those of the younger. The close likenesses to gongorism in other literatures are quite independent of one another except that all may be ulti- mately traced to a single set of underlying principles. At the risk of being censured for proving the obvi- ous, we shall show first of all, by describing a remarka- [ 128] OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 129 ble analogy to gongorism in a literature not even re- motely related to the Spanish, that resemblances are in themselves no proof of influence. Our only justification for so doing is the persistence of a stubborn tendency to impute as causes of gongorism similar meretricious diseases in other literatures. Accordingly, perhaps the best isolated example of fantastic poetry is to be found in the compositions of the Icelandic Scalds since they contain many of the cultist and conceptist elements characteristic of gongorism. Here, exactly as in Span- ish, exoteric virtuosity shows itself in the use of neolo- gisms and hyperbates while esoteric subtlety of idea likewise comes out in a predilection for recondite tropes and allusions. Even in the neologisms themselves the resemblance to gongorism goes further, because just as the Spanish Homer in his latinizations of vocabulary went back to the ancient source of the Spanish lan- guage, so, too, the Scalds drew from the archaic re- sources of Old Norse. Icelandic possesses an unusual number of curious and obsolete words which give to its Scaldic verses something of the piebald effect attained by English poetasters through introducing Spenser- esque archaisms. In the strange Scandinavian rhymes, however, the result is more noticeable, inasmuch as the Scalds made a special cult of neologisms already unin- telligible to the people at large. Thus the very medium of their utterances is more artificial, mannered, and obscure than the language sometimes affected by Gon- gora. 130 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE More extraordinary than any hyperbates found in Spanish are some of the fantastic metrical arrange- ments of the Scalds. Great license is taken with word order, a stanza of two parisonic antithetical sentences being written by taking first a word of one sentence and then one of another, alternating in this way until the two periods are finished. This naturally results in a series of enigmatic verses which can be deciphered only when the key to the word pattern is known. Thus the two sentences: Hakt hamdi geirum gotna (Hake con- quered the men with weapons), and Kraki framdi eirum flotna (Krake strengthened the men with peace), may be written in a stanza as follows, reading from left to right as in English: Haki Kraki Hamdi framdi Geirum eirum Gotna flotna. Grotesque tropes, without doubt the most outstand- ing single characteristic of gongorism, are developed to great lengths in the complicated metaphors of the Scalds. Often the quality or attribute of an object is used instead of the object, as for example, “splendor” for “gold.” In addition to this, the exaggerated pedan- try and love of classical references so marked in the style of Gongora are matched by the references of these Icelandic poets to Norse history and mythology. “Thus,” writes Rasmus Anderson, in his History of the Literature of the Scandinavian North, “we find, for OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 131 instance, that gold is called Freyja’s tears (referring to the myth in which Freyja is said to have wept golden tears when she was deserted by her husband Od) ; the gallows were called Hagbard’s steed (referring to the legend according to which the young Norwegian hero, the lover of the Danish princess, was hung) ; that a warrior is called the wielder of the sword; a sword, the fire of the shield; a shield, the war-roof ; so that instead of warrior we may say, the wielder of the fire of the war-roof. The interpretation becomes still more difficult from the fact that when two things have the same name, then a metaphor which stands for one can repre- sent the other as well. Thus the word lina means both a ship and a shield, and consequently every metaphor used for a shield may be applied to a ship and vice versa. How far this may be carried, is illustrated by a Scald who, instead of the word floki (flake), used the word tre (tree). His right to do so appears from the follow- ing analysis: instead of floki one may say sky (cloud) ; instead of sky, hrafen (raven) ; instead of hrafen, hestr (steed); instead of hestr, marr (mare); instead of marr, saer (sea); instead of saer, vithir (ocean) ; in- stead of withir, vithr (wood) ; instead of withr, beim (bone) ; instead of bein, teinn (twig) ; and instead of teinn, tre.” An illustration of the uncouth piling up of metaphors may be seen in the following literal translation of the Icelandic Scald, Gunlaug Ormstunga. “The moon of the eyebrows of the white-clad goddess of the onion 132 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE soup shone beaming on me as that of a falcon from the clear heaven of the eyelids of the goddess of the gold-ring causes since then the unhappiness of me and the goddess of the ring.” To understand this jargon we must first be advised that the moon of the eyebrows is the eye; the goddess of the onion soup (that is to say the one who prepares that broth), the goddess of the ring, and the goddess of the gold-ring are all peri- phrases for woman; the moon of the eyelids is the eye while the heaven of the eyebrows is the forehead. With- out the solution to these tropes it may be seen that the obscurity of such Scaldic poetry, especially when fur- ther distorted by the addition of neologisms and hyperbates, exceeds the darkest passage of Géngora’s Soledades. It would not be difficult to multiply examples of this abstruse writing in other literatures unassociated with the Spanish. The Bélre filed school of Celtic poets plays essentially the same part in the literature of the Irish bards as the Scaldic does in Icelandic. Similar, too, are its neologisms consisting of archaisms and strange com- pounds, and hyperbates formed by syntactical arrange- ments contrary to the genius of the language. Obscure references, mythological allusions, and intricate tropes make the resemblance to gongorism as startling as if it were a conscious imitation. As a matter of fact, the further afield one goes in the search for examples of this curious literature the more pronounced seem its analogies to gongorism. In some African negro tribes, OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 133 where poetry, such as it is, appertains to the profession of the seer and conjurer, great pains are taken in the training of those who are to become the future tribal poet-sorcerers. Words which are taboo to the whole tribe become the particular property of the bard who transmits them to his successor, jealously guarding their meanings from the uninitiated. Such expressions then are truly neologisms, unknown to the tribe at large, the very utterance of which is even forbidden. In addition, an equivalent to hyperbates may be discovered in the repetitions and the splitting of parts of a compound word during the chanting, such mutilations not being permissible to the usage of spoken prose. Finally, in- credible as it may seem, there is a counterpart to the complicated metaphors of gongorism in the odd peri- phrases of this poetry. The names of certain animals and spirits are taboo to the tribe, and consequently to speak of them the bard must resort to symbols, shy half- references and circumlocutions. Even the motive behind all this outlandish jargoning is identical to that which partly contributed to the production of gongorism: the desire of some more or less conscious charlatan to astound his more gullible brethren by a display of occult hocus-pocus. Moreover, it owes its success to a sort of inferiority complex inherent in the mass of mankind: to regard whatever they cannot understand as above in- stead of below them, to expect super-profundity from the most abject nonsense. 134 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Since we have seen that phenomena similar to gon- gorism may exist in literatures isolated from the Span- ish, we shall do well to be very chary of jumping to any conclusions of influence even when the literatures are proximate, if the major part of the evidence rests only upon resemblances. Arabic poetry affords an ex- ample of just such an inference because it contains ‘many meretricious compositions quite like those of gon- gorism and because seven centuries of close contact between Spaniards and Arabs make the question of influence not improbable. Arabic literature is peculiar in that it is almost wholly lyrical, and because after the Hegira the whole output of its poetry consists of nothing more than a slavish imitation of models produced during the classical period (500-622 A. D.). The result is intense formalism in subject and treatment. As early even as the sixth cen- tury the poet “Antara complains that his predecessors have left him nothing new to say, and René Basset (La poésie arabe anté-tslamesque) writes, “Never did the rule of the three unities weigh so heavily upon the [French] tragedy of the seventeenth century as the superannuated forms of the age of ignorance upon the Arabian authors of the Khalifat.” The vocabulary, syn- tax, verse forms, and subjects of this pre-Islamitic lyric are still in force in the poetry of today. All that is left to the poet then is the embellishment of old models by preciosities. Ahmed Deif (Essai sur le lyrisme et la criti- que chez les Arabes) describes the poetry created under OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 135 such conditions as nothing more than “a pastime, a skillful game, a fine exercise of verbal gymnastics.” Naturally, such restrictions would confine the poet’s imaginative power to the conception of grotesque meta- phors. “My head,” sings the poet Ibn El Tatharya, “becoming bald, is like the desert inhabited by the eagle, but after it gets to be entirely bald, the eagle (pre- sumably a “poetic” metaphor for a louse) will go away.” Imr-oul-Qais in his Moallaquat compares the Sahara Desert to the empty belly of an ass, and launches into a panegyric of his lady whose fingers, he says, are like insects while her breasts are like two ostrich eggs, shining like polished mirrors. Later poets exaggerate this bizarrerie even more, as might be guessed from Tha’alibi’s criticism of Mutanabbi (915-965), one of the greatest Arabian poets. ‘He strings pearls and bricks together. . . . While he moulds the most splen- did ornament, and threads the loveliest necklace, and weaves the most exquisite stuff of mingled hues, and paces superbly in a garden of roses, suddenly he will throw in a verse or two verses disfigured by far-fetched metaphors or by obscure language and confused thought, or by extravagant affectation and excessive profundity, or by unbounded and absurd exaggeration, or by vulgar and commonplace diction, or by pedantry and grotesque- ness resulting from the use of unfamiliar words.” This criticism might well have been directed against Géngora, so close is the resemblance between him and Mutanabbi, and yet the possibility of an Arabic influ- 136 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE ence upon the Spanish Homer is doubtful. Géngora cer- tainly was ignorant of Arabic; the last of the Moors had been expelled before he had written anything as- tonishingly grotesque, and even indirectly there is little in his style that must necessarily be sought for in an alien literature. Indubitable points of contact between the meretricious poetry of Arab and Spaniard are alto- gether wanting ; indeed the attempt to lay gongorism in part, or as a whole, to a Semitic source seems clearly to be the result of fitting facts to a theory, a case of link- ing analogies rather than relating each to a common cause. Provengal literature affords a much closer parallel to gongorism in the productions of its Trobar clus, an affected school of poets which grew up about the middle of the twelfth century and lasted approximately a hun- dred years. Beginning with Marcabrun, we note the in- troduction of obscure tropes, excessive personification, mannered syntax, and some plays upon words. Later, Peire d’Alvernhe adds bombast, greater grotesqueness and obscurity of trope and alliteration. Additional traits are contributed by other poets: Rambaut d’Aurenga brings in the taste for puns and riddles; Raimon de Tolosa, exotic words; Rambaut de Vaqueiras mixes up five languages in a composition called with much justice a Descort; and Aimeric de Belenoi carries alliteration to excessive lengths. Yet it is Arnaut Daniel (c. 1180- 1200), called by Balaguer the “Géngora of the Trouba- dours,” who becomes the most extravagant of all. This OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 137 poet uses bookish words, neologisms, and bizarre con- structions—some eighty words unknown to his com- peers, and forty more with unheard-of metaphorical meanings have been counted, and his syntax is often so jumbled as to be almost undecipherable. Punning is habitual, while antithesis, personification, allegory, paradox, alliteration, and above all, eccentric figures of speech, contribute to making his style every bit as fan- tastic as Gongora’s. En breu brisaral temps braus, Eill bisa busina els brancs Qui s’entresseignon trastuich De sobreclaus rams de fuoilla; Car noi chanta auzels ni piula M’enseign’ Amors qu’ieu fassa adonc Chan que non er segons ni tertz Ans prims d’afrancar cor agre. Amors es de pretz la claus E de proessa us estancs Don naisson tuich li bon fruich, S’es qui leialmen los cuoilla; Q’un non delis gels ni niula Mentre ques noiris el bon tronc; Mas sil romp trefans ni culvertz Peris tro leials lo sagre.1 Because of the close likeness between the Trobar clus and gongorism, the mediaeval preciosity has been held responsible for the modern. Supporting this hypothesis is the fact that Provengal literature actually came into contact with Spanish, on the east through Catalonia, on the northwest through Galicia, and furthermore, as 138 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE we have noted earlier, traits of the meretricious style common to the Troubadours are to be found in the work of Mena and occasional earlier writers. Against the possibility of such an influence it may be observed that the early occurrence of Provengal artifice both in Catalan and Galician never really affected the main stream of Spanish poetry, and by the time Mena began writing, Provengal literature was virtually dead. Not- withstanding that certain metrical devices are present in the poetry of Mena and the compositions of the Trobar clus, such are also common to other literatures quite isolated from them. Indeed the various technicalities of artificial verse are almost as elemental as the rhyming instinct itself. When a degenerate bard, no matter of what country, starts upon a career toward virtuosity, he develops, without apprenticeship and instruction, the same affected meretricious gestures and vices that have characterized the abnormal rhymesters of all time. Another analogy to gongorism is to be found in the poetry of the Latin Silver Age, and here we find that such critics as Cejador y Frauca, Amador de los Rios, and others, lay the blame for the fantastic Spanish style upon Rome. However, in this case the resemblance between the meretricious verse of the two literatures is not particularly striking. Recondite artifices do occur in Latin compositions unmistakably gongoristic in nature but alien nevertheless to Spanish gongorism. On the other hand, the poet Lucan who comes closest to Gén- gora, lacks many of the salient elements characteristic OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 139 of the Spaniard’s fantastic manner. During the time of the emperor Nero, and later, there grew up a fad for writing curious verses, carmina figurata, in the form of the particular subjects described therein. Thus a poem upon a fish would be written with spaces, long and short lines, so as to resemble a fish. Again, ana- gram verses at that time experienced considerable popularity and lines which might read the same from right to left as the reverse. Roma tibi subito Motibus ibit amoR? These puerile tricks, being plays upon words rather than ideas, are obviously cultist; yet, as we observed, nothing so abjectly futile can be found in the poetry of Gongora or his imitators. The closest parallel that the Latin Silver Age has to offer to the effusions of the Spanish Homer is to be found, as we said, in the epic of Lucan. His Pharsalia occupies a position in Latin poetry roughly analogous to that of the Soledades in the Spanish lyric of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Furthermore, if the style of the Roman author is subjected to minute scrutiny, it is possible to discover therein innovations similar to those which characterize the work of Gon- gora. Thus Lucan does indeed introduce a few neolo- gisms (bellax, fastibus, arenivagus), and hyperbates (durare as a modal auxiliary, sponte with a genitive), but these are comparatively so rare that they constitute by no means the distinguishing characteristic of Lucan that they do with Gongora. Discovering a likeness 140 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE between the two writers merely on the basis of linguistic innovations is analogous to comparing the desert with the ocean merely because there happens to be in the former an oasis. Grotesque tropes are really the only feature both poets possess in common, and even here there is a difference in both quantity and quality. The Latin poet and the Spaniard may each be likened to different decadent styles in architecture: Lucan to the flamboyant Gothic; Géngora to the baroque. Orna- ment with the first writer does not yet obscure the lines of a great design; with the other all sense of form is lost under a mass of extrinsic embellishment. The epic of Lucan still possesses a certain windy vigor, but with the lyric of Géngora movement consists only in the ponderous coiling and uncoiling of sluggish metaphors. Each poet is undoubtedly upon the same road to de- cadence, but Géngora is much farther on the way. Moreover, even in the use of tropes there is a great difference between the poets. The Spaniard’s favorite figure is the metaphor, the Roman’s, hyperbole. Lucan, describing a battle, asserts that arrows and darts flew so thickly the sky turned black as night; so furious the soldiers fought their swords grew hot; and so fast stones and arrows sailed through the air that they lique- fied and melted away. Telling of Cato’s march through the Libyan desert where his soldiers were bitten by strange serpents, Lucan exaggerates the harrowing physical details with a Rabelaisian gusto. One soldier breaks out into a sweat of red virus, another swells up OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 141 “so that he himself lay concealed within his own body.” The passage describing the death of the third will afford a fair index of the poet’s style. The skin nearest the wound, torn off, disappears, and discloses the pallid bones. And now with open surface, without a body, the wound is bare; the limbs swim in corrupt matter; the calves fall off; without any covering matter are the hams; of the thighs, too, every muscle is dissolved, and the groin distills black matter. The mem- brane that binds the stomach snaps asunder, and the bow- els flow away; nor does just so much of the entire body as may be expected flow upon the earth, but the raging venom melts the limbs; soon does the poison convert all the ligaments of the nerves, and the textures of the sides, and the hollow breast, and what is concealed in the vital lungs, everything that composes man, into a diminutive corrupt mass. By a foul death does nature lie exposed; the shoulders and strong arms melt; neck and head flow away. Pharsalia IX. The resemblance as well as the difference between Lu- can and Goéngora can easily be surmised by contrasting the above translation with one of Gongora’s sonnets, albeit the rendering of the Spaniard’s poem into Eng- lish deprives it of the additional bizarrerie occasioned by neologisms and hyperbates. This poem which Bavia has now offered to the world, if not tied up in numbers, yet is filed down into a good arrangement, and licked into shape by learning; is a cul- tivated history whose grey-headed style, though not met- rical, is combed out and robs three pilots of the sacred bark of time, and rescues them from oblivion. But the pen that thus immortalizes the heavenly turnkeys on the 142 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE bronzes of its history is not a pen but the key of ages. It opens to their names not the gates of falling memory, which stamps shadows on masses of foam, but those of immortality. Sonnet, Este, que Bauia al mundo 01 a offrecido poema. Such a great divergence between the styles of the two writers should afford sufficient evidence that Géngora did not develop his extravagant manner through imita- tion of Lucan. Nevertheless, the fact that the two poets have used certain mythological names in common has been held as an indication of influence. However, the abracadabra of classical nomenclature after the Renais- sance was so generally known that it is hardly neces- sary to make Lucan the unique source of Géngora’s antique learning. Ovid, ever since the Middle Ages, was so much better known that, if Gongora’s fund of myth- ological information must be traced to a particular author, Ovid would seem to be the most logical candi- date, especially since Gdngora was evidently acquainted with some of his work. The celebrated critic of Spanish letters, Amador de los Rios, attempts to trace an un- broken succession of bombastic writers from Lucan down to Gongora, but there are so many long gaps be- tween some of the authors cited that it is hardly credible that a tradition of bombast could have been kept alive so long. Furthermore, bombast is too general a trait to apply to the complex styles of either Lucan or Géngora. In the absence of incontrovertible proof of the influence of the Roman upon the Spaniard, therefore, we must OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 143 again suspect the attempts to establish such an influence as being based upon nothing more than illusive though intriguing resemblances. Still another literature, yet more remote than the Latin, is claimed by Pellicer, GOngora’s contemporary biographer, as the cause of the bard’s fantastic style. After modestly asserting, as only a Spaniard can, that it would require the combined efforts of all the Greek and Roman orators to give Gongora his due meed of praise, Pellicer writes in his biography of the poet, “His education was not very profound, but it was suf- ficient so that his works were not lacking in the rites, formulae, customs and ceremonies of the ancients, in their beliefs, allegory, ritual and mythology. There are found in the phrases of Don Luis many imitations of Euripides, Callimacus, Apollonius Rhodius, Nonnus Panopolitanus, Quintus Calabrus, Homer, Musaeus and other Greek poets. In places he reminds one of the orations of Aristenetus and Dion Chrisostomus, with the beauty of Anacreontes, Heliodorus and Achilles Tatius.” This, of course, is worth nothing as criticism; a terrible pedant is merely airing his own erudition under cover of writing Gongora a panegyric. Probably none of the cited authors writing in an effusive style were known to Gongora, but the observation made by Pellicer is interesting because it shows that even in Gon- gora’s own day, the resemblance between his ornate style and that of certain decadent Greek writers had at- tracted attention. This similarity has been noted so 144 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE often that a brief glance at the Greek literature of the decadence will repay our trouble if it does nothing more than establish another instance of the existence of a gongoristic style in no wise related to that of Géngora. From the fourth century before Christ down to within some three decades of the Christian Era, there flourished at Alexandria, Egypt, a school of erudite poetasters whose work is artificial in the highest degree. On the whole, blind worship of form, straining after brilliant and unusual figures of speech, and obscurity occasioned by abstruse classical allusions, characterize the productions of this epoch. Innovations in language such as neologisms and hyperbates are usually, though by no means always, wanting, possibly because of the slavish respect pedant-poets universally entertain for linguistic conventionality. Apart from this, the effu- sions of alexandrinism do, in fact, resemble those of gongorism very closely, for they are frigid, mannered, altogether wanting in spontaneity, full of bombastic prolixity, drugged with deep infusions of a kind of learning, and are written upon subjects usually foreign to poetry. The most interesting poet of this group, because of his resemblance to Géngora, is Lycophron. His Alex- andra or Cassandra (274 B. C.), as it is variously called, introduces nearly all the elements of gongorism, conceptist and cultist, into. this post-classic Greek poetry. I'he prophecies with which Lycophron’s epic deals, have all the ambiguousness of oracular utter- OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE |. 145 ances, tricked out with the pedantry of the day and made even more unintelligible by countless allusions to little-known myths. Not content with this obscurity, the author, in every respect a Gongora, makes use of unusual words, bizarre neologisms, and violent innova- tions in syntax. As a result of all these mannerisms and conceits, Lycophron has made necessary a mass of com- mentary even more voluminous than the tremendous explanations made of Gongora’s Soledades by Salcedo Coronel. Like the Spanish poet, the Greek, because of his fantastic style, more exaggerated than that of either his predecessors or followers, and because of his in- fluence and popularity, may be regarded as the symbol and apex of meretricious utterance in his ow literature. The striking similarity, indeed, between Lycophron’s style and Gongora’s will justify inserting a translation of a short passage from the Alexandra. For one Bisaltian Eion by the Strymon, close march- ing with the Apsynthians and Bistonians, nigh to the Edonians, shall hide, the old nurse of youth, wrinkled as a crab, ere ever he behold Tymphrestus’ crag: even him who of all men was most hated by his father, who pierced the lamps of his eyes and made him blind, when he en- tered the dove’s bastard bed. And three sea-gulls, the glades of Cercaphus shall entomb, not far from the waters of Aleis: one the swan of Molossus Cypeus Coetus, who failed to guess the num- ber of the brood-sow’s young, when, dragging his rival into the cunning contest of the wild figs, himself, as the oracle foretold, shall err and sleep the destined sleep; the next, again, fourth in descent from Erechtheus, own 146 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE brother of Aethon in the fictitious tale; and third, the son of him that with stern mattock ploughed the wooden walls of the Ectenes, whom Gongylates, the Counsellor, the Miller, slew and brake his head in pieces with his curse-expelling lash, what time the maiden daughters of Night armed them that were the brothers of their own father for the lust of doom dealt by mutual hands. Not only do resemblances to gongorism exist in an- cient and mediaeval letters, but, as we have briefly noted elsewhere, they are discoverable in the great literatures of Western Europe at a period almost identical with that of the Spanish decadence. This concomitance, to- gether with the similarity between their fantastic pro- ductions, and the fact that during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries so much intercourse existed be- tween the nations of Southern and Western Europe, have led literary historians to attribute the meretricious works of one nation to the influence of analogous pieces in another. In other words, just as the blame for gon- gorism has been laid upon the ancient and the middle, ages, SO, too, is the cause for it sought in contempo- taneous literature, and with more plausibility since the lapses of time are not sufficiently great to invalidate the manipulations of glib arguments of source and in- fluence. However, we have already observed the ex- istence of too many unrelated gongoristic parallels to be unduly impressed by resemblances alone. Naturally, the closest parallels to gongorism occur in the neo-latin languages, inasmuch as they offer the greatest possibilities to analogy. Nevertheless, the ger- OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 147 manic group also presents resemblances to gongorism which seem all the more startling because of the differ- ence in linguistic medium. Of all these manifestations of the meretricious style in the germanic family, that in English will of course be most interesting to us. Accordingly, we shall pass over the German equivalent for gongorism existing in the Silesian School of Chris- tian Hofmannswaldau, and the Scandinavian parallel in the academy founded in 1644 by Klai and Harsdor- fer, investigating only the phenomenon as it appears in English. There the florid manner goes under the name of euphuism, so called from the principal char- acter in two works of John Lyly (1553-1606), Eu- phues or the Anatomy of Wit (1579) and Euphues and his England (1580). A noticeable though somewhat superficial difference between the work of Lyly and that of Gongora is that the production of the English writer seems to be wholly in prose. However, this difference is more apparent than real; C. G. Child (John Lyly and Euphuism) has un- tied the prologue to Lyly’s Endymion and has shown that its paragraphs of seeming prose fall naturally into stanzas of rhythmic blank verse. This, to be sure, can- not be done with all Lyly’s work, but a vein of lyri- cism surely does persist throughout it all. With much justice, therefore, Albert Feuillerat remarks (John Lyly), “Euphuism is too poetic for prose, too prosaic for poetry.” Yet apart from this difference in genre, almost all the equivalents of gongorism, both cultist 148 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE and conceptist, are present in Lyly’s curious prose. Similar to the Spaniard’s neologisms is the English- man’s penchant for introducing bizarre proper names, technical terms, self-coined words, and Latin phrases (“the plant Coloquintida,” “the fish Scolopidus,” “the herb Anacamsoritus,’ “the physician’s cucurbitae,” “teen,” “‘asparagonia,” origanum, dictanum). Lyly has no hyperbates, strictly speaking, but inasmuch as a hyperbate is only a departure from customary gram- matical order, any persistent artificiality in clause or phrase arrangement is of an analogous nature. Hence Lyly’s excessive use of parisonic antithesis, although by no means an outrage upon syntax, possesses a certain resemblance to Gongora’s hyperbates. Characteristic of Lyly is the abuse of alliteration which frequently is used to set off elaborate antitheses and plays upon words. In common with Gongora, how- ever, he makes use of personification, pun, and paradox, in addition to invoking obscure classical references and pedantic bits of unnatural natural history for the most part taken from Pliny. Lyly’s metaphors and hyper- boles, although not as numerous nor as grotesque as the Spaniard’s, are nevertheless sufficiently fantastic to furnish a final resemblance to the author of the Sole- dades. “First with a great platter of plum porridge of pleasure wherein is stewed the mutton of mistrust. ... Then cometh a pye of patience, a hen of honey, a goose of gall, a capon of care, and many other viands; some sweet and some sowre; which proveth love to bee as it was said of in olde yeeres, Dulce venenum.” (Endymion) OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 149 “T have written my laws in blood and made my gods of gold: I have caused mothers wombs to bee their children’s tombs, cradles to swim in blood like boats, and the temples of the gods a stew for strumpets.” (Mvydas) Although Lyly has the reputation of being the most extreme of English writers to affect the fantastic style as well as being its innovator, he is by no means either the first or the worst. Half a century earlier, John Skel- ton (1460?-1529). surpassed him in bizarrerie of lan- guage and obscure gibberish. Moderata juvant, but toto doth excede; Dyscressyon is moder of noble vertues all; Myden agan in Greke tongue we rede; But reason and wyt wantyth theyr prouyncyall When wylfulnes is vicar generall. Haes res acu tangitur, Parrot, par ma foy; Ticez vous, Parrot, tenez vous coye. Besy, besy, besy, and besynes agayne! Que pensez vouz, Parrot? what meneth this besynes? Vitulus in Oreb troubled Arons brayne, Melchisedeck mercyfull made Moloc mercyles; To wyse is no vertue, to medlyng, to restles; In measure is tresure, cum sensu maturato; Ne tropo sanno, ne tropo mato. Aram was fyred with Caldies fyer called Ur; Iobab was brought vp in the lande of Hus; The lynage of Lot toke supporte of Assur; Iereboseth is Ebrue, who lyst the cause dyscus. Peace Parrot, ye prate as ye were ebrius Howst the, lyver god van hemrik, ic seg; In Popering grew peres, whan Parrot was an eg. Speke, Parrot [52-72] 150 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Contemporary bards also outdo Lyly; Gabriel Harvey (1545 ?-1630), the pedant who wished to be “epitaphed as the Inventour of the English Hexameter,” besides attempting to foist the Latin principle of quantity upon English verse, is guilty of alliteration, puns, quips, puerile plays upon words, and some grotesque figures of speech every bit as absurd as Géngora’s. Indeed, so popular became the fad for the fantastic style during the Elizabethan Age that even the great Shakespeare frequently sins. There is hardly a more exaggerated example of oxymoron written by a man of unques- tioned genius than the following: Why, then, O brawling love, O loving hate! O anything, of nothing first create ! O heavy lightness ! serious vanity ! Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Romeo and Juliet [Act I, Scene 1] Nevertheless, the poet who approaches closest to Gén- gora in the use of extraordinary tropes is, unques- tionably, Richard Crashawe (1616?-1650), called the “divine Crashawe” because of his lachrymose and treacly verses upon religious subjects. Christ’s wounds he describes as “blood-shot eyes that weep roses,” and the soldier’s spear is charged with “opening the purple wardrobe of thy side’ from which the Saviour takes out and dons the purple garment of his own blood. Again, he speaks of the eyes as “nests of milky doves” OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 151 which, when crying, become “a flaming fountain or a weeping fire.” The extreme of the grotesque and re- pulsive, however, is reached in a poem describing our Lord’s circumcision, the metaphors of which are really beyond citation. One of his “divine” epigrams—that on the verse in Luke XI, “Blessed be the Paps which Thou hast sucked,” we may risk, perhaps, if only to exhibit it as a literary curiosity. Suppose He had been tabled at thy teats Thy hunger feels not what He eats: He'll have His teat ere long, a bloody one,— The mother then must suck the Son. Several theories have been advanced to account for euphuism, but none of them analyze the style of Lyly into its constituent elements and account for the de- velopment of each component. Neither do any of the theories take into consideration writers other and earlier than Lyly, such as Skelton, whose style is altogether different from that of the author of Euphues. Thus Feuillerat, noting how Lyly draws upon Pliny for some of his pedantry, suggests Latin literature as the cause of the Englishman’s style. Croll and Clemons (Eu- phues), seeing no other trait than bombast in Lyly’s complex manner, would lay it to the influence of medi- aeval rhetoricians without proving that Lyly was even aware of the existence of such rhetoricians. A Spanish source, now deservedly much scouted, seeks to discover the English author’s peculiar mannerisms by supposing an imitation of Lord North’s garbled translation of a 152 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE French translation of Guevara’s Relox de principes. Finally, Italy has been blamed for Lyly’s style because the taste for conceits, never a very important element in Lyly’s writing, is presumed to have been occasioned by the influence of Italian concetti. French literature offers a closer parallel to gongorism than English although under no single writer or school are all the elements of cultism and conceptism so com- pletely united as they are in Spain. There is rather a separate group of writers affecting cultist traits and another characterized by a predilection for conceptist. The clique giving particular thought to the cultivation of eccentricity in language, is known as the Pleiade, and from the work of their leader, Pierre de Ronsard (1524-1585), their style is called ronsardism. On the other hand, the school that pays particular attention to refinements and niceties of the idea expressed, is the group of the Hotel Rambouillet, their affectations go- ing by the name of preciosity. Still, since we have found that cultism and conceptism merge, we are not likely to be surprised if we find some of the elements of pre- ciosity in ronsardism, or the reverse. Only in a very general way is it possible to assert that the traits of cultism exist in literature apart from those of con- ceptism. The analogy between the exaggerated styles of Gén- gora and Ronsard is very close. In some respects the French poet is even more radical than the Spaniard, as, for example, in his use of neologisms, which are not OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 153 only much more numerous than Gongora’s but more varied and more bizarre. Ronsard levies from the Greek, Latin, Spanish, Italian, Old French; and uses dialectisms besides inventing derivatives and com- pounds (oligochromen, Phtinopore, pronube, parangon, forusis, mehaigne, peupleux, pourperet, toujours-verd). The amazing extent to which he carries his practice of introducing neologisms is illustrated in a passage adorned with technical terms. Bien desmesler d’un cerf les ruses et la feinte, Le bon temps, le vieil temps, lessuy, le rembuscher, Les gaignages, la nuict, le licet et le coucher, Et bien prendre le droict et bien faire l’enceinte; Et comme s’il fust né d’une nymphe des bois, Il jugeoit d’un vieil cerf ala perche, aux espois, A la meule, andouillers, et a embrunisseure, A la grosse perleure, aux goutiers, aux cors, Aux dagues, aux broquars, bien nourris et bien forts, A la belle empaumeure et a la couronneure, Il scavoit for-huer, et bien parler aux chiens, Faisoit bien la brisée, et le premier des siens Cognoissoit bien le pied, la sole et les alleures, Fumées, hardouers et frayoirs, et scavoit, Sans avoir vu le cerf, quelle teste il avoit, En voyant seulement ses erres et fouleures.8 Ronsard, Eurymedon et Callirhée. In the use of hyperbates, Ronsard is not as violent as Gongora, although many of his syntactical innovations, such as the omission of the article, the approximation of the Latin ablative absolute, and the use of a con- struction sometimes clumsily called the descriptive geni- tive phrase, are exactly like the Spaniard’s. There are, 154 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE however, in Ronsard’s verses occasional syntactical dis- locations which are quite revolutionary. Et mesme Jupiter, qui la tempeste jette, De Bauce et Philemon entré dans la logette.4 Further similarity between the two poets may be dis- covered in Ronsard’s stilted passages, obscure by reason of the wealth of classical references and pedantic allu- sions, and his use of tropes, fantastic at times to be sure, though never to the extent of Gdéngora’s. On the other hand, the Frenchman plays with a metrical device more or less consciously eschewed by the Spaniard— alliteration. Ronsard’s jingling patterns, crossed, em- braced, paired, rhymed, and assonated, together with a number of other tinkling, metrical tricks, make up a complexity of cultist sonance never attained by Goén- gora and scarcely equalled by the troubadours, Aimeric de Belenoi and Arnaut Daniel. Half a century elapses before we note the appear- ance of conceptism in the group of fashionable wits and poetasters who gathered about Madame de Ram- bouillet. This clique has no leader like Ronsard, Gén- gora, or Lyly to stand as the symbol of its literary creed. The nearest approach to such a figure, perhaps, might be Vincent Voiture (1598-1648), a consummate artist at insinuating half-witty obscenities in language too elegant to cause offense. He is, of course, worlds re- moved from Gongora; yet, in a way, he, too, typifies the ideal, or rather the idol of preciosity, which was OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 155 to smooth over the roughness of language and to give it such a high polish as to make it unserviceable for common use. Usually the elegant luster of précieuse language is attained by the absurd circumlocutions so characteristic of savage taboo—periphrases in the French movement which came under the sarcasm of Moliére. In the speech of preciosity an unromantic chamber-pot for instance is sublimated by the lofty title “the virginal urinal,” a doctor somewhat justly is recognized as “one of Hippocrates’ bastards,” the in- teresting yet occult subject of petticoats is rendered still more mysterious to the passionate neophyte by calling the outer skirt ‘‘the modest one,” the middle one “the go-between,” and the one most intimate with the body “the secret.’’ Even whole sentences undergo considera- ble metamorphoses, so simple a statement as “the wind has not deranged your hair’ becoming “the invisible element has in no wise squandered the hirsute economy of your head.” In such foibles, preciosity does approxi- mate one, yet only one, important element in Gongora’s fantastic style, and it has behind it likewise the same unrestrained frivolity of meretricious wit. Still, joined with the linguistic adornments characteristic of ron- sardism, France is able, though at different dates, to produce trait for trait an equivalent for the conceptism and the cultism of gongorism. The question of influence between the Spanish and French exaggerated styles is easily settled. Gongora, in common with most Spaniards of his day, shared the 156 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE general ignorance of contemporary French literature, and consequently there is little reason for supposing any imitation of Ronsard and his Pleiade. We have shown that gongorism has a long ancestry, reaching back at least as far as Juan de Mena. The ancestry of ronsardism is even older, embracing not only the cultist trickeries of the grands rhetoriquers but their literary antecedents, reaching down even to Machault and Chartier. As to preciosity as a cause for gongorism, chronology obviously vitiates its influence, and the re- verse moreover, as Lanson rightly shows, is impossi- ble owing to the general ignorance of the French at that time in Spanish literary affairs, notwithstanding the fact that Voiture and a few others visited the Iberian peninsula. Lanson indeed would charge preciosity to the conceits and affectations which ultimately culminated in the Italian style of marinism. Yet here, as Cabeen and Hauvette believe, the great difference between the con- cettt of Italy and the circumlocutions of preciosity is alone sufficient to preclude an Italian source for the French taste, while the influence of Marini himself upon the affected exquisites of the Hotel Rambouillet was at that time negligible. There is no reason, then, for not concluding that preciosity, like the other analogous, fantastic, literary phenomena, is also an independent growth, though in some measure the product of local environmental and cultural conditions. A number of references have been made already to the flamboyant literature of Italy, and so often has that OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 17 country been blamed for the sixteenth and seventeenth- century extravagance in the letters of practically the whole of civilized Europe, that an investigation of the Italian movement is of considerable importance. Yet, before proceeding with this study, a few general ob- servations upon the similarity of the bizarre manner in Italy and its counterparts in England, France, and Spain may be made with profit. We should note, then, first of all, that in Italy as elsewhere the growth of a meretricious style is not sudden but rather the product of a long evolution; secondly, the phenomenon is marked by traits that are both cultist and conceptist, although the early periods of the nation’s literature in- cline more to cultism, but the later, that is from the fifteenth century on, tend toward conceptism—a parti- tion not as strongly marked perhaps as in the literature of France. Finally, the Italian degenerate style, like most of those contemporary with it in Europe, comes to a culmination in the work of a particular author who becomes its symbol. It is Giambattista Marini (1569- 1625), an affected poet who gives the name of marin- ism to this exaggerated manner in Italy. A brief sketch of the growth of marinism will bring out other parallels with gongorism. We observed, it will be remembered, that in Spain, at the court of Al- phonso X, the preciosities of the Provengal lyric were cultivated with some assiduity without having much effect upon the main current of that nation’s literature. Similarly, in Italy, at the court of Frederick IT, as well 158 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE as in a thirteenth-century school of rhymesters at Pisa, there was cultivated a mannered, artificial style of versi- fying patterned closely after the Provencal lyric. The first writer of note to set the pace in Italy for the fan- tastic sort of poetry characteristic of the Trobar clus is Guittone d’Arezzo (d. 1294). Latin neologisms, hyper- bates, much alliteration, rare rhymes, and forced tropes give his work an essentially gongoristic cast. Other and later writers occasionally produce work marked with similar traits. In Italy, however, as in the early litera- ture of Spain, affected poets do not seem to have had much influence upon the poetry at large, notwithstand- ing the fact that vestiges of Provencal preciosity have been imagined in the work of Dante, who did, as a mat- ter of fact, entertain an unduly high regard for Arnaut Daniel, the worst of the conceited school of trouba- dours. Innovations in language dwindle after Dante, and with the advent of Petrarch the taste for forced con- ceits becomes very noticeable. It is almost possible to say that historically Petrarch marks for Italy the tran- sition from cultist to conceptist poetry, although the change should not be regarded as a very abrupt one. Yet, once the shift was made, later poets quickly add further elements to the conceptism until it becomes quite as complex as that in Géngora’s poetry. Fantastic conceits, so exaggerated as to border upon the ridicu- lous, color the lyrics of Benedetto Cariteo or Gareth (1450-1514) and Sannazaro (1458-1530). Serafino OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 159 Ciminelli (1486-1500) carries hyperbole into uncon- scious burlesque, and to this Pietro Bembo (1470- 1547) adds an inflated rhetoric sustained by the aid of multifarious architectonic devices and mannered in syntax through an attempt to approximate the artificial periods of Cicero’s oratory. Giovanni della Casa (c. 1503) deserves to be mentioned for his introduction of intricate rules of prosody with which he hoped to re- fashion Italian verse according to Latin patterns. Tris- sino, Alamani, and Tolomei carry his theories to absurd lengths, producing in Italian a sort of verse quite simi- lar to the bizarre lines of Gabriel Harvey, who attempted the same thing in English. Finally, all the elements of conceptism are brought to the point of grotesqueness in the styles of Tebaldeo and Cardeo, but the extra- ordinary tropes of Bernardino Rota and especially Angelo di Costanza (d. 1591) prepare the ground uy ficiently for the literary orgies of Marini. Because Marini’s fantastic style was developed fairly late in life, only one work of his will afford us any interest, the Adonis (1623), a long poem of 45,000 lines written in octaves. As with Gongora, the Italian did not suddenly adopt an exaggerated manner but rather developed it by slow degrees. For this reason, his Rime (1602), Dicerie sacre (1614), La galleria (1618), and the Sampogna (1620), although showing evidence of a progressive taste for garish writing, show so little of it in comparison with the Adonis that they may be disregarded. With some justice, then, we 160 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE may again describe this, his most flamboyant effusion, as a ‘Soledad.’ Here, however, we must be careful, be- cause the Italian poet, although using nearly all the ele- ments constituting Gdongora’s abnormal style, employs them in such different proportions that the Adonis has a character quite unlike the great poem of the Spanish author. Most noticeable, for example, is Marini’s use of neologism and hyperbate. With Gdngora, these two traits are characteristic, but with the Italian poet, neolo- gisms, and even words not sanctioned by common usage, are quite rare while his hyperbates are neither profuse nor violent. On the other hand, in the use of antithesis and other architectonic sentence devices, oxy- moron, pun, paradox, allegory, and personification, Marini often surpasses Gongora. The closest similarity between the two poets lies in the common predilection for grotesque metaphors, al- though even here the Italian’s are not quite as extra- ordinary as the Spaniard’s. The heart is thus called “the public exchequer of Love and Nature,’ flesh is “animated milk,” and the mouth a “jail of pearls and an urn of gems.’’ Mixed metaphors sometimes pro- duce an unintentionally comic effect, as when “The gentle smile of Love shoots out lightning flashes” or a tearful person “spins out silver from the eyes.” Hyper- bole also frequently provokes a smile, especially when “passionate love catching on fire from its very heart consumes itself with agony” and a lover “burns to sample the celestial liquor of the purple roses of a OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 161 woman’s mouth.”’ Metaphors such as these, together with tedious circumlocutions, obscure mythological, astrological, classical, and astronomical pedantries give to Marini’s verses a character at times very similar to Gongora’s, though by no means so concentrated in their patch-work of gibberish. Era ne la stagion che’ 1 Can celeste Fiamma esala latrando e I’aria bolle, Ond’arde e langue in quelle parte e’n queste In fiore e l’erba e la campagna e’! colle: E’!] Pastor per spelonche e per foreste Riffugi a l’ombra fresca, a l’onda molle. Mentre che Febo a l’animal feroce Che fu spoglia d’Alcide il tergo coce.5 Adonis, III: 7 Concerning the possible influence of Marini upon Gongora, the fact that the Adomis, the only really bizarre work of the Italian poet, was not published before 1623, and Gongora, as we have seen, had fully developed his grotesque style by 1605 at the latest, makes such a hypothesis untenable. Some patriotic Italians have, later, even gone so far as to lay the blame for Marini’s excesses upon Gongora, relying upon the friendship between Marini and Lope de Vega to blaze a rather dubious and difficult trail of infer- ences. While the existence of Italian poets prior to Marini who have contributed to the development of an exaggerated style in the poetry of that country is suf- ficient evidence to clear GOngora of the blame of marin- ism, the centuries of close contact between Spain and 162 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Italy make it extremely difficult to prove without a doubt that marinism and gongorism have never influ- enced one another. We have seen, however, many in- stances in which epidemics of flamboyant writing attain similarity, at the same time that they evolve independ- ently. We have also repeatedly noted that in many cases it is only the resemblance that constitutes the proof of the supposed influence. In spite of the close contact, therefore, between the two countries, infer- ence seems justifiable, in the absence of valid proof to the contrary, that either marinism or gongorism would each have evolved practically unchanged had the other never existed. What then is the cause of these literary decadencies, and why should the meretricious styles manifest them- selves in such constant patterns? Surely it is not mere coincidence that has often developed traits of cult- ism and conceptism, so close to the fantastic man- ner of Gongora, in literatures as widely dissimilar and isolated from one another as the Arabic, Norse, Alex- andrine Greek, Provencal, and Irish. Do not the long periods of evolution culminating in euphuism, ronsardism, marinism, and gongorism in the contem- poraneous literatures of Europe also bear evidence of long independent germination, growth, and fruition of the grotesque styles even though their respective liter- atures are not altogether isolated? On the other hand, if there is indeed an underlying cause for all these movements, what explanation can be given for the OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 163 variations and the distinctive natures of each? Are they due wholly to the influence of particular cultural en- vironments, or are there accidental causes contributing here and there to individualities as marked as those characteristic, say, of preciosity, euphuism, and alex- andrinism ? The last questions are most easily answered. To be sure, every literature bears the impress of a particular cultural outlook, its Weltanschauung, which colors every phase of literary growth, including the deca- dence. Thus, in the spirit of the Middle Ages, one may discover a particular fondness for the subtle and ab- struse. At that time learning, such as it was, became the property of a caste jealous of itself, almost a secret society, dwelling apart from the ignorant mass of man- kind after the fashion of the Druids, the Egyptian and Chaldean sages. ‘Scientists’ then wrapped their curi- ous discoveries in cabalistic pictures, parables, or ana- gram verses, just as Roger Bacon concealed his secret for the composition of gunpowder. Similarly, poets, affecting to write for an exclusive circle, attempted to set a premium upon their compositions by making them unintelligible to the simple and the unlettered. This they did by assuming an air of profundity, by obscure references, far-fetched conceits, and garish language. The Provengal literature of the Trobar clus especially affords a fine example of this literary snobbery: the poets Gavaudan, Ignaure, Marcabrun, and Peire d’Alvernhe are all very outspoken in avowing that 164 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE they write obscurely merely so that the vulgar multi- tude cannot understand them. This attitude, moreover, is to some extent character- istic of mediaeval French and Italian literature, as well as Provencal, and for that reason the stilted literary styles of those three countries bear especially close resemblances. GOngora, too, writing for the snobbish cultos, affected to disdain the herd, and consequently his poetry is similar to the Trobar clus in many respects. Indeed, the tendency to sublimate and make poetry recondite and difficult is sometimes pushed to such lengths that the language and concepts of verse become the exclusive property of a few initiates and is under- stood by them alone. Among semi-civilized peoples the aloofness of the bard and the mystery of his trade lead even to the practice of poetry as a magical cult, vestiges of which we find in the rhymes of the Scalds and still more plainly the Bélre filed of the Irish bards until, descending to the level of primitive peoples, we discover the poet altogether identified with the seer and conjurer. Related influences produce analogous results, and often a poetry loses its democratic character by devel- oping a complicated code of artistic canons. This fre- quently happens when a literature reaches the full maturity of its classical period fairly early. Succeeding epochs are then characterized by imitations of past masterpieces, imitations written according to the dic- tates of fixed rules deduced from analyses of the class- OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 165 ical productions. As time progresses, such rules become more and more intricate, and the utterances conforming to them, ever more artificial and frigid. This naturally stifles the spontaneous expression of poetry while it sets a premium upon metrical gymnastics, formalism, and conceptist convolutions. The Greek poetry of Alex- andria and the Arabic verses of the Suffi school furnish illustrations of poetry written under such conditions. Actuated by a kindred principle is a feeling that the homely, every-day words of speech are vulgar and stale. The resultant attempt to create elegance, wit, and brilliance produces a style best exemplified by preci- osity although it is undoubtedly a contributing factor also in the development of marinism and euphuism. Again, a grotesque style may be induced by imitation of works of genius by persons of inferior ability. Failing to create great work, would-be poets are often reduced to exaggerating the facile eccentricities and manner- isms which so frequently mar pieces of the highest art. This, of course, is imitation, as Moliére puts it, of the tousser and cracher of genius. The Italian fashion for conceits, for example, set by tasteless imitations of Petrarch, is largely the result of this. Finally, an ex- aggerated style may be developed from the revolt against the tyranny of too rigorous rules, the outcome being a sort of cultural anarchy such as that which followed in the wake of romanticism unrestrained. Still, these explanations adduce causes which are neither universal nor fundamental. To grasp the under- 166 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE lying motive for all periods of meretricious writing, let us regard literature, which is after all nothing but the spiritual record of a group linguistic consciousness, as something possessing a cyclic life coincident with that of the people of which it is the expression. In- deed, the life of a literature has many very close analogies with that of an individual: it possesses a rude epic infancy wherein are produced the dull, elephantine sagas of head-whacking; a dramatic maturity when great characters with great actions combine to produce the ultimate masterpieces of its literature; and, finally, it exhibits a period of senile decadence characterized by creative exhaustion resulting in pedantry, superficial brilliance, and imitation. It is the golden ages which stand for the nation’s fullest cultural maturity, the products of some marvelous summer which descends swiftly and but once upon the fields of art. The fruit ripened under this precious season always possesses a color and flavor whose richness and exuberance is be- yond the power of cultivation to produce or care to prolong. Nevertheless, this fruit is as quick to rot as it is to ripen, and, consequently, even during the brief summer of the Golden Age, fruit, flower, and decay may be seen upon the same branch. It is this decay which mani- fests itself in the various eccentric styles of euphuism; marinism, gongorism, and,so on. It is to be discovered first in genres like the lyric which, because of its limited scope, matures earlier than greater genres like the novel OTHER MERETRICIOUS VERSE 167 and drama. This explains the seeming paradox of gon- goristic decadence in the Spanish lyric at the same time that the novel of Cervantes and the drama of Lope were at their greatest. The last half of the seventeenth century and the succeeding one, however, witness a decay of these genres so complete as to approach almost putrescence. Still, while the parallel between literature and the ripening of fruit may be justified by way of illustration, the harvest of a field of art is obviously far more complex than that of an orchard. There is not one season of literary fruition only, but a great many, or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say, many phases of a single season all subordinate to the great harvest of the Golden Age, each having its sec- ondary or subsidiary minor cycles of growth, maturity, and gongoristic decay. Thus the culture of Europe has experienced an early though slight growth in the eighth century, another greater and more widely spread in the twelfth, then, after the classic periods of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, a florescence of unpruned ver- biage called romanticism. Certain genres and certain schools have also their dependent climaxes so that there are really movements within movements, or, to resort again to another analogy, literature is like a large mountain range having a distinctive central ridge and culminating peak, made up at the same time of in- numerable spurs and foothills, each with its particular summit and its particular counterslope of gongorism. 168 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Yet if the artistic life of a people develops in cycles, and meretricious adornment is characteristic of the phase of its decadence, then not in literature alone but in every province of cultural expression similar fan- tastic styles should be observed. Truly it would be a superficial attitude to expect the sun and rains of time, which set the seasons of growth in the emotional life of a nation, to bring to harvest one genre only. Literature, Music, Architecture, Sculpture, and Paint- ing are all the major fruits of artistic life. To revert to our earlier analogy, although one fruit may mellow and decay a little earlier than the rest, still, just as the golden harvest is roughly contemporaneous for all, so it is that the inevitable season of rot is not only uni- versal but also nearly simultaneous for each. We shall accordingly investigate the music and the fine arts of Spain to see whether this parallel decadence, so justi- fied by inference, does rest indeed upon fact. - C4 DK at i en Y =~, ‘ YZ Vill. THE FANTASTIC STYLE IN MUSIC USIC is perhaps the most subjective of the J arts, yet at the same time it offers a limited field for objective imitation anala- gous to that open to the graphic and plastic arts. The soughing of winds, rumble of thunder, booming of cannon, and shrieks and cries of soldiers in battle have always been subjects within range of the virtuoso. These sound-simulative compositions occasionally become more varied when there is at the disposal of the performer a number of in- struments of differing timbre. Thus barks and grunts may be evoked from the lower manuals of an organ, squeals and bird songs by a flute, and all kinds of cater- wauling upon the strings of a violin. But music of this character, like onomatopoetic verse, is justly regarded as freakish, despite its effectiveness when used rarely and with discrimination, because the chromatic tonal capaci- ties of music are too restricted to permit much objective [ 169 ] 170 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE description. Therefore, such meretricious experiments may be regarded as lying outside the true province of music, and, inasmuch as they tend to become imagistic rather than emotional, we may compare them to the extreme cultist eccentricities of gongorism. Although these productions are limited to no par- ticular period or people, one kind of music peculiar to the Middle Ages and especially to Spain of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries may well be termed “‘cultist,” since it has no esthetic justification whatever and, in fact, scarcely deserves the name of music. It is written for the eye instead of the ear, like the carmina figurata described in an earlier chapter. In this class are the musical enigmas such as the writing of a hymn to Christ upon staves arranged in the form of a cross, a hymn to the Trinity with the staves in the shape of a triangle symbolizing the three-in-one nature of the Deity, or even more complicated puzzles such as a musical diagram [see plate I] of the location of the blessed in Paradise. Bizarreries of a slightly dif- ferent character are bits of music, analogous to the anacyclic verses of Nero’s reign, so written as to sound the same if played from right to left, or even upside down, as in the normal manner. Finally, without having exhausted the catalogue of technical and fantastical tricks by any means, we may mention another sort of “cultist”” music which by the graphical notation of its elements attempts to simulate the meaning of the words accompanying them. Angels flying through the air, for FANTASTIC STYLE IN MUSIC 171 example, are represented by volutes of rapid high notes, eternity is symbolized by a long series of double whole notes, and Hell by a sharp descent in the tonic scale. The latter type of ‘‘cultist’”” music verges upon a subtle reconditeness which we may term “‘conceptism,” because associated with the playing with graphical form there is also an attempt to juggle with ideas. Yet the primary expression of intellectual concepts, rather than the arousing of emotions, is foreign to the true province of music, and, if the tendency were carried fur- ther, music would become to all intents and purposes a language. As a matter of fact, during the Golden Age something like this actually happened. The scales or modes and the individual notes comprising them were endowed with particular meanings so that by a subtle shifting about of musical elements, just as if they were letters, rudimentary ideas might be expressed even as by words. As the articulation of this music became more and more complicated, its esthetic appeal obviously was sacrificed. Gradually it lost altogether its direct influence upon the emotions, and, like a veritable lan- guage, its “alphabet” and “words” had to be commit- ted to memory before the new, esoteric significance could be appreciated. The origin of this musical conceptism possesses an interesting history, of sufficient length to prove its independent development, the salient features being as follows. During pre-classical antiquity, in the provinces of and near Greece, there flourished, more or less in- 172 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE dependently, certain schools of music characterized by a predilection for instruments of particular pitch and quality. Later, as Greek culture amalgamated into some unity, the rude musical systems which grew up in these provincial schools were subject to considerable stand- ardization, but still retained something of their earlier individual characteristics. The several differences in pitch, especially, remained, though metamorphosed and reformed into eight different scales or modes which preserved, in the nomenclature, traces of their pro- venience. Either through primitive associations or per- haps accident, these modes were endowed with particular qualities which were supposed to impart their coloring to all compositions written within the mode. In this wise the music of Lydia, possibly because of some es- tablished custom, was associated with weeping and lamentations. Becoming a key or mode it was consid- ered lugubrious, and hence suited to pieces that would achieve a mournful nature irrespective of the emotional effect of the score itself. Plato denounced this lachry- mose scale because he considered it effeminate, and gradually, changing its meaning even as words do, the mode acquired first the quality of effeminacy, then lasciviousness, and finally gaiety, the opposite of its original meaning. As this recondite music lost its true esthetic appeal and popular character it fell to the mercy of learned men. Cicero identified the eight modes with the seven FANTASTIC STYLE IN MUSIC 173 planets and the sidereal universe, and when the Chris- tian ecclesiastical pedants took over the ancient system, they further embroidered it with astrology, allegory, and pseudo-science. During the Dark Ages music became inextricably bound up with mathematics, at that time rightly considered a diabolical art, with the result that it became one of the handmaidens of black magic and attained a gongoristic obscurity from which it has hardly recovered to this day. Boethius (475?-524?) carried the Pythagorean symbolism of numbers into musical theory, and the Spanish philosopher, Saint Isidore of Seville (560?-639), added to music mystical specula- tions anent the association of rhythmic harmony with words representing concrete things. The vogue of this musical hocus-pocus among the erudite is surprising. Alphonso the Learned desired to establish a chair of music at the University of Sala- manca, and throughout the later Middle Ages the art found itself included among the subjects taught in the Quadrivium. By the sixteenth century the cult of this fictitious science attained such proportions that there were some forty leading musicologues in Spain alone and nearly one hundred and fifty learned musicians and schools of musicians. Naturally the chasm between speculative and popular music was irreparably widened, the advantage this time lying wholly upon the side of the pedants who denounced as “town criers’’ those true singers who still attempted to charm the ear alone with- out a knowledge of weird theoretical harmonics. The 174 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE scorn of learned unmusical musicologues for the unlet- tered musician is evident from an anathema breathed out by Espinosa, a choleric old philosopher of music, against one Biscargui, a practical musician and organ- ist of the sixteenth century who had the temerity to publish an art of plain chant and counterpoint. Let him be silent, and let him stand ashamed, this Gon- calo Martinez Biscargui person, Chaplain in the church of Burgos, and henceforth and forever let his barbarous and poisonous voice cease from its presumption of teaching and writing these musical heresies ... For he putteth his trust utterly and altogether upon his ear whereas it is plain that the ear may be deceived . . . for as Boethius sayeth [here the good professor discharges a blunderbuss filled with erudite, scholastic references] the sense of hearing in art can become the judge of neither consonance nor dissonance: by which art one ought to understand naturally not only the theory and practice of music, but yet of the art harmoniously disposed: and he [Biscargui] showeth himself already that he is no philosopher from that which he writeth and teacheth: for he knoweth full well that he is of the company of song mongers and jongleurs which those weighty authorities that he himself contradicteth with so great audacity and so little shame, call in many a passage the very slaves of music. Here surely is a parallel to the disdain felt by gon- goristic writers for all persons outside their exclusive culto circle, and furthermore the abstruse abracadabra characteristic of Géngora’s school finds its equivalent in the subtle concepts of musicologues. Juan Bermudo, one of Spain’s most famous musical theoreticians, in his Declaracién de instrumentos (1549) furnishes a FANTASTIC STYLE IN MUSIC 175 number of examples of the reading of esoteric mean- ings into the scales, which, as we have said, became thereby rudimentary words. According to him, the first mode is a happy one, identified with the sun, the reason being that the sun dries up fog and mist and hence the mode is endowed with properties for drying up moist humors such as laziness, sadness, and tears, at the same time that it is conducive to sprightly conversation and discretion. Bermudo avows that he never knew a man who composed much in this scale who did not attain a noble bearing and excellent judgment. The second mode is grave and sad, because it is associated with the moon, the lowest of all planets, and one whose influence is damp, gloomy, and tearful. The third mode is angry, terrible, provocative to ire, and hence is fittingly identi- fied with Mars. Mercury, the flatterer and fawner, endows the fourth mode with procurative and adulative properties. If this mode be used in conjunction with any other it acts as a sort of catalytic agent to hasten its virtues; thus, if a piece be written in two modes, the third and fourth, or those belonging respectively to Mars and Mercury, it will cause whoever hears the piece composed therein to grow angry much more quickly than if the entire composition were written in the third mode alone. The fifth mode is Jupiter’s and, according to Bermudo, a good one to sing praises in, besides being especially salubrious to the blood. Here, however, one may note that a later musical pedant, Andreas Lorente (c. 1672), evidently recalling the 176 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE story of Leda and the Swan, claims that it is a vile and lecherous mode. The next one is identified with Venus, and accordingly its important virtues may well be imagined, though it is interesting to note that eccle- siastical musicologues sublimated the pagan eroticism of the great goddess into a treacly sort of spiritual charity. Strength is the property of the seventh mode, due, Lorente says, to the fact that it takes a very strong voice to sing so high. Bermudo, on the other hand, knowing that this is Saturn’s mode, endows it with gravity and maintains that it is the fit one for cere- monious compositions. The eighth, finally, has kinship with all others, is a perfect mode and one which is identified with the starry heavens, close to the throne of God and for that reason a splendid one in which to compose hymns, petitions, and prayers. ° Although these modes merely cast a particular mys- tical character or meaning over the entire composition written in them, the musical “language” went much further. Each note or unit was given a particular sym- bolic meaning that varied from mode to mode so that sixty-four individual concepts could be formed by the eight notes of the eight modes. Moreover, by combining two or more notes, an almost infinite number of esoteric meanings could be obtained. Obviously, this subtle musical wizardry became impossibly complicated, espe- cially when no two musicologues agreed as to the pre- cise meanings and virtues of modes, notes, or possible FANTASTIC STYLE IN MUSIC 177 notational and modal combinations. To make the con- fusion still worse one should remember that the most intricate rules for harmony existed, such as those formulated by Montanos (1592) and altogether differ- ently by Salinas (1577), which, based not upon physics but spectaculative theory, approved or forbade certain combinations of sounds. In addition there were mystics like Tapia (1570), who treated harmony and discord in music as properties not of mathematics, physics, or concepts but rather of matters of the soul in its relation to God. Other learned men investigated the magical nature of music; Martino Delrio, for example, in his great book on the black art (1599), sees in the sounds of music occult properties that further complicate the notational arrangements permitted to the erudite musi- cian. In short, a mass of convention, superstition, specu- lation, pseudo-science, and learning so weighed upon the composer that he had to labor like a mountain to bring forth a mouse, even then running grave danger in having the particular esoteric meaning he intended, mistaken for a different one by another learned theorist. All this difficulty arose from not understanding the true functions of music, and because of the existence of no absolute standards of beauty, since beauty ob- viously is neither innate nor invariable. At that time the nature of music was not sufficiently understood to formulate even an artistic constitution of conventions. 178 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Instead of there being a sort of United States of Music with basic laws in operation throughout all provinces, there were a number of petty musical kingdoms, some mathematical, some magical, some ideational, some mystical, all at war with one another and with scarcely a single common bond. The composer, therefore, found himself in a dilemma when he attempted to create, be- cause if he gave pleasure to the ear alone he was sure to be denounced as lascivious and immoral; if he es- chewed the hypothetical precepts of musicology, to be condemned as an ignoramus; and if he delved into the magical, to be burnt at the stake for witchcraft. On the other hand, if he attempted to espouse the thousand and one fickle theories of music, his discordant pro- ductions were certain to be anything but What is re- garded as legitimate music. Nevertheless, during the Renaissance, a semblance of order began to take form throughout this musical an- archy. An Italian composer, Palestrina, then began to write according to certain ideas which, with some meta- morphosis, have evolved into what are recognized today as fundamental principles of music. Canons of harmony were established, partly upon physical laws and partly upon conventionalized esthetic fictions, by the observ- ance of which it was possible to arrange sounds so as to give the maximum pleasure to the ear, the sensuous, rather than the spiritual aspect of music usually being — paramount during the Renaissance even as it was in the other arts. Upon this half-esthetic, half-scientific FANTASTIC STYLE IN MUSIC 179 foundation, there was in addition a strong tendency in music, not only in Italy but particularly in Spain during the Golden Age, toward florid extravagance. The ex- uberance of the creative period tended to stifle true ex- pression by smothering it in a profusion of polyphonic baroques, that is to say, accompanimental notes which dissipate by their very prolixity and misplaced empha- sis, the vigor, unity, and coherence of the musical theme instead of accentuating it. In short, we may truly liken this effusiveness and over-richness in the music of the great age to the bombast so characteristic of its litera- ture. Into this artistic milieu came the Spanish com- poser, Tomas Ludovica de Victoria (1540?-1613), who because of his exaggerated flamboyancy, symbol- ism, and subtlety, deserves to be called the “Gongora of music.’ In matters of technical harmony, of course, it must be conceded that Victoria follows the general principles of music embodied in the work of the Italian composer, Palestrina. On account of his technique and also possibly owing to his study in Italy, he has been superficially condemned as “‘Palestrina’s ape.” Yet noth- ing could be more unjust, because, in matters touching Victoria’s creative genius, he is as original as he is Spanish. If his extrinsic mannerisms resemble Pales- trina’s, as they do to a degree, just as GOngora’s resem- ble Marini’s, it is again only in that both composers are affected by the same spirit of effusiveness which swept over Europe during and after the Renaissance. In mat- 180 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE ters of deeper significance Victoria’s individuality can- not be impeached. As Gongora attempted to create a language for poetry, so Victoria attempted to invent a “language” for music. Neither, to be sure, was altogether original; rather both were fusers of the attempts of a long series of innovators. Victoria tried not only to make music beautiful to the senses but, what was more important to him, to make it speak to what we may call, for want of a more convenient word, the “‘soul.”’ In order to achieve this he drew upon the bizarre modal and notational concepts and occult symbolisms which we have already described,. adding others of his own that were even more subtle. Nevertheless, being a true musician and not a musicological pedant, he never became so wholly absorbed in the esoteric meaning of his productions as to sacrifice harmony to mystical riddling, because like Gongora, he was always a true artist, even in the midst of his most epileptical phantasies. A characteristic example of Victoria’s eccentric music may be seen in the hymn In Ascensione Domini (1581?). Written in the “devoted” mode, anciently the Hypolydian which the Greeks consecrated to Venus, we find, if we accept the dicta of Bermudo and Lorente, that the hymn is, in consequence, automatically endowed with the qualities of sweetness, compassion, and sad- ness. Any piece composed in this mode should therefore possess the power to move the listener to tears, though musicologues bid us note that the tears are tears of joy FANTASTIC STYLE IN MUSIC 181 as well as sadness, because the mysterious virtue of this mode exalts at the same time that it melts the heart. The mode then is singularly appropriate to the theme, Christ’s redemption of men at the price of his own suffering and death. In this case, we should observe that the recondite modal symbolism is quite justified since its esoteric fiction was recognized by cultist musicians whom Victoria could not afford to ignore. Obviously the next mode, either above or below, would have served practically as well, as far as the musical theme is concerned. Choosing the mode that he does, how- ever, Victoria merely achieves an additional subtle con- ceit without impairing or restricting his hymn. Still Victoria goes much further, sacrificing spon- taneity for esotericism, as an analysis of the hymn will show (see plates II, III, IV, and V for the full text in modern notation). The theme, printed at the top of the hymn proper (plate II) is divided into four portions as follows: I. Jesu Nostra Redemptio II. Amor et desiderium III. Deus creator omnium IV. Homo in finem tempore The development of the hymn with the theme above may also be arranged in a table. Quae te vicit clementia —imitation, four voices, from low to high on part I of the theme. Ut ferres nostra crimina —the cantus accompanied with the other voices of part II of the theme. 182 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Crudelem mortem patiens—Successive imitations from low ut nos a morte tolleres to high on part I of the theme, with the cadence in mi, si, sol (sharp), mt on tolleres. Ipsa te cogat pietas ut mcla—Sucessive imitations from low to nostra superes high on redemptio-amor, parts II and III of the theme. Parcendo voti compotes —Part III of the theme. Nos tuo vulto saties —Part IV of the theme. The piece ends with a cadence in mi, si, sol (sharp) re- tarded, followed by a resumption of the choir with Tu esto nostrum. Perhaps some explanation may be necessary to make this clear. Beginning with the first verse of the hymn proper, Quae te vicit clementia, it will be seen that the bass begins a tune similar to part I of the theme and, after a half rest, the tenor comes in with a second imi- tation of the same theme, then the alto, and finally the canto. The symbolic meaning is this: just as the theme is apparent through each of the four voices, so likewise the meaning of the words of the theme, Jesu nostra re- demptio, is to be understood as underlying the mean- ing of Quae te vicit clementia, and in the same way the second verse of the hymn, Ut ferres nostra crimina, has attached to it the significance of the second portion of the theme, Amor et desidertum. In other words, the idea expressed so complicatedly is that it is love which urged Christ to bear our sins. The rest of the hymn may similarly be interpreted by following the analysis in the table above. Pon rASTIC STYLE IN MUSIC 183 It will be recalled that musicologues attributed mean- ings to separate notes as well as modes. How far Vic- toria goes in the use of this more difficult and detailed symbolism is very difficult to say definitely. As Victoria was always a true musician, when it came to a question of chosing either harmony or subtlety, the latter was usually sacrificed. Nevertheless, whenever possible, Victoria weaves a subtle meaning into the air, by nota- tional arrangement, complementary to the meaning of the accompanying words. When, therefore, certain words in the hymn are linked with notes whose separate significance seems particularly fitting, we may be rea- sonably sure that we have not discovered a mere coinci- dence. In the above hymn, for instance, the word homo of the theme is written to two notes whose meanings are “harsh” and “pernicious” ; Deus accompanies two notes of the same value signifying “powerful”; and Creator four notes expressing, in order, the concepts #2. 6 powerful,” “comforting,” “power- +> «666 “compassionate, ful.” Of these four notes, two have the same quality, that is, the notes expressing “powerful,” which, when added to the identical symbolism of the preceeding word deus, give three notes of the same parity typify- ing the tripart conception of God, the three constituents of which are equal. This leaves, then, three notes of different quality for the following synonym Creator, symbolizing in turn the individuality of the three ele- ments of God’s personality: Christ, the son, written to a note meaning “compassionate,” God, the father, to 184 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE two notes of the same quality emphasizing “powerful,” ~ the chief attribute of the diety, and finally the Holy Spirit to a note expressing “comforting.” A “subtle man,” as Dante terms an “inspired” critic, might find innumerable other hidden meanings not quite as strik- ing. Accordingly, we may regard such as compromises between the harmonious and the esoteric, resulting in the impairment of both, or else possibly as meanings never intended by Victoria but read into him by the excessive zeal of the commentator. This recondite phase of Victoria’s music is compara- ble to the pedantic allusions and far-fetched classical and mythological references of the gongorists. An equivalent to the grotesque metaphors of the flam- boyant school may also be found in the musician’s imagism. Victoria’s figures, upon occasion, are almost as abstruse as his symbolisms; thus his motet Duo seraphim clamabant, built upon the Gregorian theme, Ave Maria Stella, in the phrase genitum non factum of the credo contains, in triple superposition, portions of the melodies which correspond to the words virgo, mater, and ave, respectively. The musician in this wise expresses, by a subtle conceit, his belief in-the immacu- late conception and his love for the virgin: Again, though less esthetic, is a sort of Wagnerian subjective onomatopoesis, that is, an imitation produced upon the sense of hearing of something perceived by another sense, such as seeing or feeling. An example of this may be found in the phrase tu quae genuistt from the FANTASTIC STYLE IN MUSIC 185 second part of the antiphone, Alma Redemptoris Mater where the action of the verb genuisti, the climactic orgasm of bringing forth a child, is simulated by the music which first begins slowly with two half notes, followed after by a convulsive run of seven quarters, then a sharp spasm of two eighths, a rest on half a note, and finally complete relaxation and relief as a whole note comes forth. Much simpler appear certain details in his two passions, secundum Matthaeum and secun- dum Johannem, where, in the scene of the crucifixion, he represents in plastic music the vast crowd, soldiers, mockers, mourners, and angels descending from heaven, by ornate musical baroques, volutes, runs, trills, and every sort of extrinsic notational embroidery. An interesting side light is thrown upon Victoria’s eccentric music when we note that his literary style is quite as gongoristic as any of the productions of the Cordovan Swan. The prologue of the musician’s last work, the O fiicium Defunctorum (1605), accompanied also by a short poem, is so utterly befuddled by con- fused metaphors and tenuous classical allusions as to be quite unintelligible. The possibility that Victoria’s fantastic music was induced by the influence of gon- gorism, however, is unlikely, since the evolution of this bizarre music possesses an antiquity even greater than that of the strange poetry. The fact that Victoria, and other musicians as well, are gongoristic in verse and stave, indicates that gongorism, instead of being con- fined to literature alone, is, as we have already noted, 186 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE a symptom of corruption in the whole artistic culture of the nation. Victoria, in particular, is so saturated with the flamboyant spirit of the Golden Age that whether he composed in notes or words, his work al- ways shows the eccentric aberrations of a grotesque style. This hectic manner, whether it consists in the opu- lence of words or tones, poetic metaphors or notational images, far fetched allusions or harmonic speculations, is not confined to any one art but rather to all culture. Indeed, it is hard to over-emphasize the necessity for distinguishing between a single symptom and the dis- ease itself; it is not merely literature that is sick nor yet. music, but rather the entire creative life of the whole nation which makes itself articulate in letters and in notes alike. Since we have seen how close the re- semblance is between the gongorism of poetry and this fantastic music we have already two general arguments for the deeper significance of erratic extravagance in the cultural life cycle of the race. Let us now continue this search within the provinces of another art. IX. ARCHITECTURE AND EXTRAVAGANCE RCHITECTURE has been described as “frozen music,” a term which provokes the discovery of analogous tendencies in the two so essen- tially subjective arts. Both, truly, exercise their appeal upon the emotions through harmonious proportions, one existing in sound and time and the other in form and space. Some of the artistic canons of music invoke physics and mathe- matics for their justification, while some of the prin- ciples of architecture rest upon geometry, the tacit conclusion in either case being that standards based upon anything as absolute as mathematics should ac- cordingly partake of its invariable perfection. Never- theless, in spite of this rather fortuitous alliance be- tween art and science, the obvious fact remains that physics is not sufficient to explain music, nor geometry, architecture. As a matter of fact, that which has been [ 187 ] 188 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE vindicated by time as beautiful and “true” often rests upon a contradiction to the mathematically absolute ideal. This is because standards of beauty, truth, and perfection are merely habits of thought, stabilized, to a degree, by convention yet susceptible to the transient aberrations of unusual or abnormal environments. In the early twilight of art, before esthetic fictions had time to be recognized clearly, there have always been uncertain and often fantastic gropings. The more subjective the art, the more chimerical these early tenta- tives appear. Thus, in music we have observed false starts in purely onomatopoetic imitation as well as in recondite symbolism. The history of architecture like- wise affords evidence of monstrosities and bizarre de- velopments, such as may be seen in the pyramids, the tiger cave at Cuttack, or in the priapic symbolisms of certain antique monuments, although the physical diffi- culties in the way of architectural construction usually prevent the attainment of such erratic extremes in that art as are possible in the more flexible medium of music. While peculiar tendencies are common enough in primi- tive art they are by no means confined to it but rather extend throughout all periods, so that we may regard the grotesque monuments of architecture much as we regard the strange dinosaurs belonging to our geological past—as curious though ‘unsuccessful experiments strewing their debris along the highways of evolution- ary progress. : ARCHITECTURAL EXTRAVAGANCE 189 Yet apart from these sporadic and eccentric develop- ments in art, there occur whole eras of great growth upon lines which long habit sanctions as proper and true. If a work which has been judged proper and true possesses further a universality and withal an indi- _ viduality, we are wont to hold that such a work has vindicated itself before all times and climes. In other words if it exerts a strong esthetic appeal upon all sub- sequent cultures, at the same time that it bears indelibly the impress of the particular national, racial, or cultural environment under which it is produced, we hold it as an index or standard with which to judge all other works. In periods of the greatest artistic achievement, when the universality of a people’s spirit is most em- bracing and extensive, it is also always most vividly individual. It is this intense individuality in such a period which makes it extremely sensitive to the tran- sient and particular conditions of the cultural environ- ment, responding even to unusual stimuli in an exag- gerated manner. Cycles of great artistic expression are like storms which gather slowly through centuries, breaking suddenly with a tremendous thundering and with flashes of the sublimest inspiration, only to melt away again, after a brief fury, into a melancholy drizzle. During the swirl and chaos of the unrestrained elements some of the strangest tricks are played, and, after the tempest has passed, such freaks naturally at- tract the curious and engross them with speculations. 190 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE We shall now devote our attention not to sporadic eccentricities in art but instead to the growth of a steady and regular tendency toward freakish and exotic embellishment which is such a strong characteristic of the magnificent culture of the Golden Age. In letters we have traced the genesis of such a tendency and dis- covered its culmination in gongorism. It will be our im- mediate task to show how the proclivity for ornament in architecture undergoes a similar evolution and that its various phases synchronize with remarkable accu- racy with the corresponding phases of literature. Indeed the close pace which the developments of these two arts keep with one another—and for that matter all the other arts as well—furnishes evidence that the sister arts possess the same family characteristics, in spite of their various individualities, and, as they grow up, age, and decline, manifest the same reactions. Already we have referred to the infancy of Spanish literature as an epic period because of the dominant character of its early monuments. The rude yet heroic poems of this age, rising up like strong fortress towers above the linguistic anarchy caused by the ruin and overthrow of an alien Latin by a free indigenous tongue, portray the lusty nature of a new-born, vigor- ous culture. Those vociferous sagas glorify deeds of witless valor, full of stupendous sword-wallopings, everything, subject as well as treatment, being primitive and violent to the point of stupidity. In fact, to admire these infantile yawpings at all one must assume some- MROMITECTURAL EXTRAVAGANCE 191 thing either of the childishness of the romanticist or the dotage of the professional mediaevalist, because the epic period—and to it of course the cultured epics of men like Dante and Vergil do not belong—is essentially boyish in character. Fresh, untutored, and artless its productions undoubtedly may be, but on the other hand their lack of artistic discipline and rhetorical and im- agistic ornament only accentuates their monotony. The most that can be said in praise of such pieces is that their grim earnestness saves them from the affectations so often resulting from following the dangerous ideal of beauty for its own sake. At the same time that the early Spanish epics came into existence, the architecture of the peninsula brought forth its first truly indigenous monuments, and how well their character conforms with that of the poetry of the epic period! Dull and heavy, yet at the same time powerful and imposing, the buildings of the pre-ro- manesque and romanesque styles may be described as sagas in stone. The grim, rude towers of the cathedrals of Lerida and Tarragona offer many analogies to the Poema del Cid. One even hesitates to call these sullen buildings churches instead of fortresses, because their frowning turrets, squinting windows narrowed into slits, and heavy-jowled embattlements seem better suited to summon the faithful to arms than to prayer. The atmosphere of the architecture is eloquent of the same wearisome, bloody assaults as that of the epic literature, 192 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE and it possesses the same cold seriousness, want of grace and ornament. . But a short while elapsed before the infancy of Spanish culture waxed into a fuller and more expressive youth. In both poetry and architecture the bellicose stu- pidity of massy, epic monuments gives way to some- thing finer and more delicate, as there comes a strong tendency towards the religious, marked by a profounder inspiration. Here we cannot, it is true, offer the pious quatrains of Berceo as equivalents for the great Span- ish-Gothic cathedrals at Burgos, Toledo, and Leon, be- cause the obscure monk lacked the advantage of their artistic tradition. Nevertheless, the change in the char- acter of literature is a change in kind, and if Berceo’s verses—verily as extensive as any cathedral—are not as impressive as those poems constructed of stone, at least they show the leaven of fancy and a swifter imagination upon the crudity of the preceding epoch, and signify the growth of a new artistic conception just as surely as the airy cathedrals, by replacing the squat, formi- dable, fort-like churches of the romanesque, give evi- dence of the adolescence of Spanish culture with its assurance of a deeper spiritual and esthetic awakening. Nothing has embodied the beauty, the earnestness, and the mysticism of the Middle Ages quite as wonder- fully as its magnificent Gothic cathedrals. These monu- ments are as universal as art itself and yet the Gothic possesses an individuality which expresses the temper of particular peoples and bears the impress of their ARCHITECTURAL EXTRAVAGANCE 193 individual characters. Thus the sensuous, rhythmic per- fection of the style in Italy would have been impossible to the Gallic spirit, while the delicate, fantastic traceries of France, in turn, could never have originated in the austere culture of the Iberian peninsula. In Spain the Gothic cathedrals, for all their French origin, conform indubitably to the soul of the people. Notwithstanding the existence of these edifices in a land of blazing light, the windows of Spain’s churches are narrower and more chastely jewelled than those of either Italy or France, and the interiors are more sombre, as if they shared the dark, intense, religious nature of the Span- iard. Furthermore, in that country of realism the very foundations and massive walls of the buildings seem to grip the earth more firmly. Their steeples and roofs set with less lightness than those, say, of the cathedrals of France, but on the other hand with a greater sureness and staunch soberness. In short, architecture fits like a garment of gauzy softness upon the culture of a people, accentuating every delicate and changing con- tour in its artistic life. An inevitable reaction to this new era of spiritual and religious purity, as expressed by hagiographic verse and Gothic architecture, followed within a few decades. Literature shows forewarnings of the coming worldli- ness in some of the semi-picaresque cantigas of Al- phonso X (1226-1284) ; and the stupendous gusto of Juan Ruiz, whose Libro de buen amor (c. 1343) pro- claims the exuberant pleasures of carnal living, fur- } 194 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE nishes conclusive proof that the national culture has outgrown the mystical yearnings of its adolescence, and with a lusty vigor has attained a wider and more ma- ture outlook upon life. Architecture, too, during the same period, shows an analogous tendency as, by evolv- ing the flamboyant style, it forsakes the severe chastity cf the Gothic for a sensuous and florid design. The long, straight lines in window, pillar, and tower, which give to the earlier Gothic such an air of intense, austere sublimity, are destroyed by substituting undulating curves. The result, of course, is a loss of stiffness and a decided gain in vigor and movement, but on the other hand, this very movement tends to become excitable, and for religious expression its animated, energetic architecture is perhaps not as happy as the eternal, brooding quiet of the older style. As the fourteenth century closes, however, the cul- ture of Spain suffers a temporary sickness, or if we may return to the analogy of the life cycle of the indi- vidual, we may describe it as a period of disillusionment intervening between the romantic effervescences of youth and the aggressive vigor of sturdy maturity. The petulant cynicism of Pero Lopez de Ayala (1332- 1407) voices for literature the despondency of the early part of this stage, and the black depths into which the latter part sank is evidenced by the brutal scourging of womankind at the hands of Alfonso Martinez de Toledo (1398?-1466). Wholly in keeping with this spirit of woeful abandon are the unhappy excesses of ARCHITECTURAL EXTRAVAGANCE 195 the flamboyant Gothic. To begin with, the graceful, flowing lines of the style were exaggerated so that the movement of the design grows to be a desperate, hectic movement. Then, as time progresses, the flamboyant becomes addicted to the stimulant of extrinsic orna- ment, and this, when unrestrained, produces an intoxi- cated effusiveness. Finally, the extreme accentuation of wobbly lines gives the style an air of tipsy exhilaration until it loses its equilibrium altogether in a whirl of giddy volutes and supercilious frills. Juan de Mena (1411-1456), as we observed, fur- nishes the first pronounced example of gongoristic ex- travagance in literature. It is significant that architec- ture comes forward only two decades later with a parallel in the garish church of San Juan de los Reyes at Toledo. The great profusion of detail within this edi- fice is comparable, especially in its ill-assorted jumbling, to Mena’s piebald vocabulary and dislocated syntax. Again, the grotesque ornaments piled up everywhere in the building are much like his bizarre hyperboles, while the pedantry and occult circumlocutions of his verses find their counterparts in the heavy, florid decorations, statues, daises, and monstrous blazons stuck at the ends of the transept, or the fantastic pillars grilled with sumptuous niches and stuffed with complicated orna- ments, such as abound in the cloister. Fortunately, with the Renaissance a fresh, strong current sweeps into the stagnating reaches of the late Middle Ages. The coming era is no longer to be satis- 196 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE fied with the maundering reproaches of philosophic in- troverts nor the conventional: emotions of polished lyrists. Life becomes complex and vivid, something full of violent contrasts, and it is small wonder then that we find architecture growing correspondingly dramatic and vigorous. Italy is the channel through which the new stimulus reaches Spanish letters, and it also fur- nishes Spanish architecture with the basis for a new design in the estilo romano, better known as the plater- esque. This gorgeous style, named because of its re- semblance to articles made of beaten silver, owes its esthetic justification to the brilliant contrast produced by placing small areas of rich carving against surfaces of blank smoothness. Although this general conception of the plateresque came from Italy, we should by no means consider the Spanish version of the style a color- less imitation, for it underwent a radical change. In the Italian plateresque, floral designs, sensuous, delicate, and usually conventionalized, furnish the ornamental motifs, but such pretty, leafy nothings are not vigorous enough to satisfy the passionate intensity of the Span- ish temperament. Accordingly, architecture quickly re- sponds to the demands of Iberian culture and substi- tutes animals in attitudes of tense action for flowers and foliage, at the same time executing them in bolder and more vivid relief. Thus the contrast of ornament against a flat background’ grows much stronger and more startling in the Spanish plateresque than in the Italian. ARCHITECTURAL EXTRAVAGANCE 197 Nevertheless, this sharpness of contrast depends upon the exercise of severe restraint in the proportion of ornament to the surface on which it is used, and restraint is not a characteristic of Spanish culture of the Renais- sance. The blank monotony of a wall must be preserved to act as a foil for the splendor of whatever ornament is superimposed. When incontinent carving succeeds in covering the smooth, chaste surface, an esthetic rape is committed; the virtue of the plateresque is forever destroyed and the result is a meretricious architecture of no artistic purity. In Spain the tendency toward unrestrained opulence in the plateresque is evident from the time that the style comes in with the Renaissance, and it increases in intensity until, by the time Philip II comes to the throne (1556), there is a positive lust for effusive ostentation. We may illustrate this proclivity for embellishment run wild by two examples of extreme profusion in architecture, and compare them to the contemporary ex- amples of ornamental bizarrerie in literature by Juan de Padilla, Fernando de Rojas, and Vasco Diaz de Frex- enal. The Casas Consistoriales (1527-1564) at Seville, by Diego Riana and Juan Sanchez illustrate the failure of the sumptuous plateresque to preserve sufficient back- ground to hold its design in free relief. All is plums and no pudding, because the entire facade is spattered over with miscellaneous plaques, statues, scrolls, and knobs giving it the frosty appearance of a huge wedding cake. The other instance of grotesque and riotous ornament 198 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE is furnished by the Casa Zaporta [see plate VI], for- merly at Saragossa but now in Paris, whose ornate patio, finished by Tudelilla about 1551, is the epitome of the exaggerated taste of the period. This galleried court is supported by eight richly decorated columns with stren- uously extended capitals, figured lintels, and large cross-beams covered profusely with plaster bas-reliefs. Above is a balcony, equally bedizened with medallions, showing busts of knights, and it is full of ballustered pillars together with semi-circular arches and wide, overhanging, carved eaves. Three styles, Gothic, mude- jar, and plateresque mix here without blending, and we may compare the discordant medley to the hyperbates and neologisms of gongorism, since two of the archj- tectural styles have not yet been assimilated with the current idiom of the plateresque. Moreover, we may sustain the analogy by comparing the grotesque meta- phors of gongorism to the torsoed columns whose statues emerge from an indistinct flourish of scrolls, and whose heads are crowned with capitals bearing cherubs, eagles, and a conglomeration of smaller flora and fauna. We should note, however, that the orna- mental details of the Casas Consistoriales and the Casa Zaporta, if considered separately, are often vivid and of excellent artistry, proving that the exuberant age was not yet decadent but only irrepressibly magnificent. As the over-sumptuous architecture of the sixteenth century was about to culminate in an immense flourish of noisy ornaments, its fanfaronades were suddenly ARCHITECTURAL EXTRAVAGANCE 199 interrupted by the intolerance of one man, Philip II (1556-1598). Ruling for nearly half a century, this saturnine monarch passed a law forbidding the erection of any public edifice unless the plans were first approved by his architect, Herrera. As a result, there was estab- lished a sort of architectural inquisition that was prose- cuted with the most despotic severity. Ornamentation, fancy, and grace were looked upon as heresy, and all plans containing the same were peremptorily consigned to the flames. Thus at the end of his long reign Philip could boast ‘not only that he had spared not a single heretic, but that he had also prevented the erection of a single beautiful building. The sullen, pessimistic style which became the official architectural religion under Herrera and his ruler, is symbolized by their most famous monument, the Es- corial. It is impossible to deny a certain pedantic sol- emnity and stern grandeur in this melancholy mass of granite, which at once reflects the morbid nature of the king and the supreme power of the Golden Age, already imminent. On the other hand, it emphasizes too forcibly the austerer side of Spanish character which, although dominant in the harsh monarch, is gradually thawing before the intense brilliance of a period of dawning splendor. The frigid, formal style of Herrera directly opposes those magnificent ornamental gestures that are invariably a part of the superabundant vigor of every great, creative age. We have already noted, from the early Renaissance to the mid-sixteenth cen- 200 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE tury, how the trend toward unrestrained embellishment becomes more and more noticeable in the plateresque, because this eager desire for dazzling, dramatic beauty is part and parcel of the maturing grandeur of the cul- ture of the coming Golden Age. Now we see it arrested in architecture, and by the despotism of one man we find this important art for the first time failing to keep in sympathy with the spirit of the nation’s culture. The other arts remain in the ranks of that brilliant proces- sion which parades with such blare and glory into the triumphant splendor of the Golden Age. Only architec- ture, stript of its rightful decorations, halts, sullen and silent, by the way. Yet not forever: just as the libertinage of the Eng- lish Restoration came as an explosion sequent to the clamping down of natural safety valves during the boilings of an earlier period, so after Philip’s death the lid was off for architecture. The resultant outburst was not a splendid gesture of spontaneous opulence but rather an unnatural, orgiastic extravagance. By this time architecture had arrived at the period of its fullest maturity, it now possessed the unlimited freedom of its whole estate, and it might enter upon a magnificent and productive career that should redound to the glory of the Golden Age even as did the other arts. As a matter of fact, architecture did nothing of the kind, spending its forces instead in prodigal excesses and upon unworthy objects. Like a subject nation suddenly possessed of liberty, or like a boorish pauper fallen ARCHITECTURAL EXTRAVAGANCE 201 heir to unexpected millions, architecture shows the evil effects of Philip’s repression by concentrating its whole vigor upon ornamental details which are only accessory or even wholly extrinsic to some mediocre design, in- stead of centering its energy upon an inspiring plan that would make opulence a complement—a means, al- though a splendid one, to a greater artistic end. Philip’s Escorial is all design with no ornament to speak of; it is almost an abstract idea without any of the divert- ing motifs of fancy to disturb its august, trance-like poise. Now the conditions are reversed; there is little or no idea of design but much florid decoration. Just as Gongora conceals his paucity of thought in a welter of images, so architecture cheats the age with its un- worthy embellishments, its lack of genuine creativeness. The baroque style, overcharged with ornamentation and meaningless scroll work, becomes immensely and immediately popular. Here, in our comparison of archi- tecture with literature, if we liken one of Spain’s great novels or dramas to one of her supreme cathederals, we may with justice say that the baroque is to archi- tecture what the gongoristic lyric is to literature—a limited field which encourages undue attention to ele- gance of detail, a field so limited in fact that mere elegance soon becomes insufficient to hold interest. The details are then, perforce, made more arresting to com- pensate for the waning interest of the monument, until at length they become bizarre and outlandish, and seem even more so because of the very littleness of the artistic 202 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE scope. As the baroque grows older it becomes more and more encrusted with superficial carving, its scrolls and knobs swell to alarming proportions and finally upset the architectural equilibrium of the whole. After the mid-seventeenth century and far down into the next, architecture, like literature, loses all shreds of vigor and sinks into a period of senile degen- eracy. The grotesque ornamental flourishes with which this feeble architecture smears its edifices, in an at- tempt to counterfeit the healthy exuberance of earlier days, resemble the false curls and cosmetics whereby elderly persons seek to conceal their years. Such arti- ficial disguises, at least in architecture, deceive no one, but on the contrary rather accentuate the pathetic in- decency and ugliness of old age. Thus, when the decor- ative excrescences of the baroque are so exaggerated that the style no longer, in its later decades, resembles its early aspect and a new name, the churriguesque, has to be given to designate the artistical cancers which further disfigure it, we can be sure that we behold an art far entered on the declining cycle of its existence. The best illustration of this degenerate architecture is afforded by the Puente de Toledo at Madrid. Fin- ished possibly about 1735 though begun as early as 1632, this monstrosity covers the deplorable period when in literature José de Leon y Mansilla was pub- lishing his third Soledad in continuation of Gongora’s, and Gerardo Lobo was giving vent to his bizarre jar- goning. The nine enormous arches of this bridge, span- Aeon ITeECTURAL EXTRAVAGANCE 203 ning the feeble trickle of the Manzanares, seem symbolical of the heavy pedantic affectations thrown up by contemporary poetry over the dried-up channel of a once torrential stream of genius. Moreover, the fantastic metaphors of this late gongoristic poetry are fittingly matched by the perverted decorations upon the bridge, for at both ends stand two deformed “obe- lisks’’ bedecked with a conglomeration of warts, knobs, spikes, and nondescript protuberances. Midway of the structure the caterer’s art is apparent in some stone frosting covering two hideous templetes within whose oppressive masses, upon mighty pedestals, repose statues dwarfed to utter insignificance. The whole unwieldly bulk of the edifice, with its bombastic posturing, sig- nifying absolutely nothing as a work of art, only proves again that the life of architecture was almost run and that the culture of the nation, which had before been so gloriously articulate in the poetry of stone, was now sunk into a meaningless dotage. Thus we see how, in a broad and general way at least, the development of architecture pursues a close parallel with that of literature. This of course is not because either of the arts exerts any direct influence upon the other, but because both are media of great flexibility for the dominant expression of a people’s culture. This culture, we may again observe, matures in passing through phases having distinct aspects, resembling the stages of growth in an _ individual so closely that the picturesque analogy of the life of 204 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE culture to that of the individual is quite justified. Architecture, like letters or music, or indeed any of the arts, reflects the aspect of the various stages of the cultural cycle with great fidelity. In the maturity of the evolution of art, when the spirit of the race is endowed with greater vigor than at any other time, there is a certain superfluity in its buoyant strength which is manifested by the taste for luxuriant embellishment. This taste, during or just prior to the Golden Age, we have noted in literature’s predilection for imagistic extravagance, in music’s passion for ornamental vo- lutes, and finally in architecture’s tendency toward florid decoration. Since sculpture is such a close ac- cessory to the ornamental side of architecture, it is quite probable that in this field, too, we may find the same conformity to the spirit of culture that we have observed in poetry, music, and building, and in addition, during the Golden Age, the same tendency toward uncontrolled exuberance. et @ @ © fa re X. THE GROTESQUE IN SCULPTURE O ALL but the rudest architecture sculpture is such an indispensable accessory that we may divide its empire roughly into two provinces, calling the one which most ) appertains to the domain of architecture architectural sculpture, because it furnishes the orna- mental levies so essential to the dominant unity of a magnificent structural design, and the other, inde- pendent sculpture, because it exists without the domi- nant influence of another art. This division, however, is only one of convenience because actually the two categories merge, since architecture and sculpture them- selves are intimately related. In architectural sculpture the same regular develop- ment towards opulence can be observed in Spain, as the art matures, that we have already noted in the progress of architecture. Yet, as the growing tendency towards splendor makes itself felt, architectural sculp- ture becomes less and less dependent upon architecture until it finally emancipates itself, although still, in theory, an accessory. By the time the Golden Age is reached, this architectural sculpture becomes so vigor- [ 205 ] 206 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE ous and attains such prominence that the eye is ar- rested by its individuality before it perceives the wider structural lines to which it should be subordinate. After the majestic splendor of the classic age has passed, the secession has become complete, architecture no longer being powerful enough to keep its sculptural dependencies in subjection. On the other hand, archi- tectural sculpture rapidly loses its strength and spon- taneity and eventually sinks into an impotent and bizarre decadence. Consequently, during the late seven- teenth and early eighteenth centuries there is no longer any equilibrium between ornament and design, and all ~ that is left of the pristine glory of architecture and sculpture is a crumbling, tarnished splendor marred by vulgar, incompetent repairs. As in the early beginnings of architecture, so too in the architectural sculpture of Spain, there are occa- sional monuments so extravagant as to appear entirely outside the norm of what should be expected from the rudeness of a primitive period. Two capitals in the cloister of the church of Santo Domingo de Silos (c. 1076) furnish illustrations of this. Completely covered with a hodge-podge of monsters paired off, back to back and face to face, the fantastic capitals present an extraordinary appearance. Harpies with women’s heads, jackals and eagles devouring animals are carved so curiously that it is with some justice that the French critic, Emile Berteaux, affirms that the monument has ¢ THE GROTESQUEIN SCULPTURE 207 nothing in common with European art. It is, indeed, one of those sporadic examples of bizarrerie, somewhat similar “to the “sports” of zoology, whose existence cannot satisfactorily be explained. So grotesque it is that one might be justified in describing it as “gongor- istic’ but for the fact that it can claim no logical place in the cycle culminating in flamboyant opulence. Not until the thirteenth century do we find any pro- nounced development in architectural sculpture towards extravagance that can be regarded with assurance as constituting a part in a regular cycle. There is a certain Templar’s tomb in the church of the Magdaline at Zamora that deserves prominence for no other reason than that it affords the first example of the grotesque in truly Spanish art. There the dead knight is repre- sented lying upon a veritable bed while weird reliefs above portray his naked soul being carried off to glory by two angels, flanked in turn by two others much larger. A monstrous dais covers the tomb, supported by fantastically carved columns covered with an inextri- cable tangle of strange shapes. The whole monument is crowned by towers representing the face of a fortress and its under surface is fretted so as to give the im- pression of Moorish wood-carvings. As the centuries progress, architectural sculpture grows much more elaborate and examples of its ex- travagance occur with greater frequency. One of the most pronounced of these, assuredly, is the mausoleum of Lope Fernandez de Luna built during the fourteenth 208 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE century, first because of the prolixity and exuberance of the numerous small figtires looking down upon the sumptuously robed effigy, and secondly because of the cupola raised above it, covered with gilt stalactites and tiny bits of garish, multicolored glass. More opulent, still, is the incongruous jumble of Gothic and Moorish in the choir of the church of San Juan de los Reyes at To- ledo. In no other church in Europe can there be found a phalanx of armorial bearings so inordinately large and so monotonous in their elaborate uniformity, quartered, crowned, and floridly crested. Below the blatant shields are what seem to be lion supporters, dwarfed, however, to the size of barn rats. Between each coat of arms, so noisy with mundane vanities, are squeezed timid little full-length figures of saints and holy men, belittled and over-awed, so that they seem as small and incon- ~ sequential as dolls, images that certainly should have been accorded the dominant position in the scheme. A profusion of carving surrounds statue and escutcheon, but in spite of the great beauty and intricacy in the workmanship, the carving destroys what little unity might have remained. Even the majestic columns at the corners of the interior are so richly engraved as to lose the strength and austerity so essential to the Gothic design. Here, in short, we see architectural sculpture beginning to usurp the prominence rightfully belonging to the unity and definition of architecture. The effect is similar to that so often to be felt in a room artistic- ally designed but so plastered with lurid wall paper and THE GROTESQUEIN SCULPTURE 209 cluttered with incongruous pictures that its proportions are obscured. With this comparison in mind, if in addition we imagine the room to be overcrowded with large pieces of ornate furniture, we shall gain something of the impression produced by the massing of great tombs, screens, and especially retables in the interiors of the churches and cathedrals of Spain. In the magnificent examples of the fifteenth century and later, sculpture no longer plays a subordinate role but rather makes architecture subservient, since the retables are often miniature edifices or facades constructed of nothing but carvings, the architectural arrangement serving only for their display. Indeed the architecture of the whole church sometimes is relegated to a very inferior place by contrast to their vivid magnificence. In such cases a cathedral seems to have no more importance than a barn whose whole purpose is to shelter the glory of the sculpture within. We may mention a few of these priceless retables, peculiar to no other country of the world but Spain, in order to note the progressive steps in the growing pas- sion for gorgeous ornament that reached a consumma- tion in the Golden Age. The enormous piece in the ca- thedral at Seville, begun in 1482 by Dancart and finished by him in 1492, was the first to surpass, both in richness of carving and gilding, all previous ones in the peninsula. Yet even this is quickly eclipsed by the retable in the church of Miraflores finished in 1499 by Gil de Siloé. 210 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Fashioned of wood, painted and gilded, this intricate work stands out from the richest examples of work- manship before it by reason of its incredible super- abundance of detail. Nevertheless, in spite of its tumul- tuous carving, it retains an impressive unity, inasmuch as the central figure, a crucifix surrounded by a roseate garland of angels, stands out clearly from a maze of saints and heavenly beings, medallions, and armorial bearings that leave no surface blank. Truly something of the inexpressible glory of Paradise is suggested by this resplendent retable with its flaming angel wings and sweeping hosts of heavenly beings. Extreme opu- lence it is, to be sure, and overwrought with imagery, but like much of the magnificence produced during the early maturity of a classical age, it is a splendor articu- late with a spiritual message and not a meaningless, vulgar pomp. Other retables might be noted, that carved in stone at the church of San Nicolas in Burgos in particular, since it is more opulent than any yet mentioned. How- ever, these examples alone will indicate the great im- petus given to profusion in ornamentation by the end of the fifteenth century. Needless to say, the tendency continues with increasing vigor through the Golden Age, but by that time the separate figures comprising an architectural sculpture attain such pronounced in- dividuality that they deserve to be discussed as inde- pendent sculpture. The only change in the general character of architectural sculpture during the classical THE GROTESQUE IN SCULPTURE 2ll period that should bear emphasis is the greater stren- uousness in the arrangement of sculptural groups and a more vociferous posturing of individual figures. In addition might be noted a growing taste for prolix and vulgar detail with florid coloring and gilding, such as distinguishes the high altar of the convent of San Martin [see plate VII], delicacy of touch already be- ing sacrificed to startling and exaggerated designs, with a corresponding loss in esthetic appeal. During the latter part of the seventeenth century and throughout the first half of the next, unmistakable signs appear of decadence and loss of creative vigor. Retables, instead of filling large spaces by rising to the occasion with some heroic unity of design, simply multiply smaller units and details to take up the de- sired area, thereby producing a sort of chaotic, crazy- quilt effect. To conceal this artistic impotence the sculptor frequently adds a wild profusion of mean- ingless flowery garlands and delirious scrolls until the work becomes bizarre to the point of tawdriness. No better example of the exaggerated architectural sculp- ture characteristic of the eighteenth century can be found than the Transparente, an altar completed in 1732 by Narciso Tomé in the cathedral of Toledo [see plate VIII]. This barbaric monstrosity has aptly been described as a fricasée de marbre on account of the innumerable, meaningless cherubs plastered with indiscriminate taste over the monument, together with the garishly gilt rays of light striking through them 212 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE like porcupine quills, and the giddy swirl of scrolls and volutes disturbing what little repose is left to the design. The predilection for florid display becomes so em- phatic during subsequent decades that the churches of Spain are fairly choked with trumpery ornaments. A litter of altar screens, retables, and tombs sprawl over the precious flooring until that impression of sublime immensity, the dominant note of a cathedral interior— the feeling of vastness and power produced upon the emotions by long uninterrupted vistas—is completely destroyed. Furthermore, the decorative pieces them- selves are of a very vulgar, tawdry character: iron altar screens that look as if they were made of gilded gas pipe, tombs and retables so full of fluttering marble cherubs that only a little chicken-wire is wanting to complete the impression of an overstocked hen-coop. In short, the house of God resembles a blaring charity bazaar or, worse, the counters of a five and ten cent store cluttered with offensive fripperies. Here if any- where, there is a crying need for a cleansing of the temple and a sweeping out and overturning of its in- solent vanities. It is not difficult to discover resemblances between the overcharged embellishments of architectural sculp- ture and the welter of images in contemporary gongorism. If we turn now to independent sculp- ture, we shall notice further analogies because there, too, the grotesque tropes of literature find almost per- THE GROTESQUE IN SCULPTURE 213 fect counterparts. It will be advisable, however, in the treatment of this province of sculpture, to ignore its earlier history. Spanish sculpture being largely ecclesi- astical, the primitive examples of independent sculpture are really not very independent but rather constitute important motifs in the decoration of capitals, effigies of tombs, and details of retables, and therefore, to some extent at least, are still accessory ornaments to cathe- dral architecture. Hence, the history of the early devel- opment of independent sculpture is so closely bound up with that of architectural sculpture, already dis- cussed, that we may dismiss as unimportant its earlier tendencies toward a definite character. It is only by the end of the fifteenth century, then, that sculpture attains a sufficiently distinctive personality for us to consider its productions apart as independent sculpture. We shall begin therefore, in our survey of this province of the art, with the early sixteenth century and continue it as far as the eighteenth, since it is in that period especi- ally that we shall find enough fantastic aberrations in individual compositions to offer significant analogies to the singular metaphors and linguistic distortions of gongorism. We have already had the occasion to use the word “baroque,” somewhat loosely to be sure, in reference to tendencies in art which sacrifice fidelity in objective form to secure novelty and surprise in expression. Thus we may call Gongora’s grotesque metaphors “‘baroque”’ because the poet’s main purpose seems to be to startle 214 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE the reader by unusual figures, at the sacrifice of the true poetic theme or the dominant idea. When the Spanish Homer, for example, uses the phrase, “a cliff is urinating” to describe a waterfall, the result is a bizarre figure, certainly unusual enough to swerve the reader’s attention either from waterfalls or whatever place waterfalls might rightfully claim in the poetry, and direct it wholly upon metaphorical mountebankery instead. Likewise in music we may speak of the ex- trinsic variations upon the theme, the trills, tremolos, grace notes, runs, and volutes, as “baroques’” because they play no essential part in the development of the theme but rather destroy its unity. In architecture the word “baroque” has a more specific meaning, referring there to a style overcharged with superficial decorative motifs, scrolls, plaques, medallions, knobs, and flowery garlands—an ornamental insincerity usually covering bad design or unimaginative architecture. In sculpture, however, and also later on in the discussion of painting, we must endow the term “baroque” with a still fuller meaning. There it should signify a surcharging of emotion rather than decoration, although the latter is nearly always present at the same time. In short, baroque sculpture is a style characterized by tumultuous and unrestrained passion, with attitudes of sudden move- ment and dramatic action. Sharp contrasts of light and shade, bold carving, and swirling lines further mark the style and endow it with a grandiose impressiveness. THE GROTESQUE IN SCULPTURE. 215 Nevertheless, the very qualities constituting the virtue of the baroque easily become exaggerated until the result is grotesque caricature. Frenzied attitudes, in this way, become convulsive, or degenerate still further into mere contortions and absurd mannerisms. More- over, the emphasis upon action is itself likely to pro- duce hysteria, and in addition, being disproportionate to the demands of the subject, insincere. Then again, the brilliant, grand-operatic effect of the style is apt to become blatant and super-scenic until it sinks into noth- ing better than theatrical clap-trap. A peculiar feature of the baroque, undoubtedly one of the results of its unrestraint, is the common disre- gard of the artist for his medium. Vivid effects are attained by painting and gilding the figures, creating thereby what is known as polychrome statuary. Occa- sionally the artist goes further and uses multi-colored _marbles—wavy yellow marble for the hair, for example, blue marble for the eyes, coral for the lips, etc. Unfor- tunately, the sculptor, once overstepping his art in the craze for daring and bizarre effects, does not always know where to stop and so calls upon all sorts of adven- titious aids: real cloth for clothing, leather for shoes, genuine jewelry, real hair, and even glass beads for tears. This false emphasis upon reality—or perhaps it would be better to use Aristotle’s distinction and say’ the mistake of confusing actuality with reality—often results in the production of statuary resembling noth- 216 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE ing higher than the dressmaker’s manikins in a store window. | In Spain, baroque sculpture contains all the vices as well as most of the virtues of the style, although it may be observed that in general, just before the Golden Age, there is considerable restraint, and, in polychrome statuary, sober coloring prevails. As soon, however, as the sumptuous century took possession of art, it endowed sculpture with a magnificent largesse, the re- sult being a much greater vivacity in posture and col- or, with unmistakable tendencies toward extrava- gance. Rapidly exaggerations develop so that by the early decades of the seventeenth century spontaneity yields to license and the creative vigor of sculpture is gradually dissipated through the predilection for un- natural postures and meretricious colorings. Finally, when the great century ends and the creative spirit expires, the baroque undergoes a marked degeneracy, carrying to extremes all the ugly vices of insincere ex- pression and abnormal ostentation, the strong vener- ation of realism not even saving sculpture from the distortions of ridiculous caricature. The first important sculptor in Spain to exaggerate the baroque is Alonzo Berruguete (1490 ?-1527), some- times called El maestro de la pasién because of the vehement intensity infused into his religious subjects. Although a pupil of Michael Angelo, and exhibiting much of the animation and power of his master, this artist quite oversteps the bounds of verisimilitude. Tie GROTESQUE IN SCULPTURE 217 Moreover, unlike the great Italian, Berruguete is uni- lateral; that is to say, he portrays one emotion only and not a complexity. Undoubtedly this is a contrib- uting factor to his exaggerated style because he is thereby able to concentrate all his feeling upon the expression of a single emotion, and this of course must result in extreme accentuation. Because of this, none of Berruguete’s figures are true types of life, but rather give the impression of being symbols, startling and elo- quent no doubt, of a single emotion. Just as ideographic symbols, after coming to represent an idea instead of an objective imitation, by degrees become simpler through the loss of unessential details and the stressing of salient traits, so too, the half-symbolic sculptures of this particular artist ignore all the little distinguishing characteristics of reality that do not contribute to the single expressed emotion, while those that do are so overdrawn as to sever all connection with reality. It is this process which makes Berruguete’s figures almost caricatures of emotion. By certain configurations and attitudes the sculptor obtains powerful effects, but.in seeking further to intensify the effect, he impresses the configuration more deeply and wrenches the attitude more forcibly, with the unfortunate result—so notice- able with Gongora’s images as well—that the attention is arrested not by the effect but by the means, the mere artistical machinery, so to speak, through which the effect is attempted. The artist’s methods, thus exag- -gerated, become mannerisms, nay, unpleasant eccen- 218 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE tricities that can be endured only because of his sin- cerity and genius, even though this sincerity and genius do seem to emanate from a fanatic rather than a rea- sonable being. Let us observe the means by which Berruguete se- cures such spectacular effects. To begin with, he length- ens his figures a full head or more, thereby foreshadow- ing the spectral elongations of the later painter, El Greco. By this stretching, the sculptor, almost mechan- ically, secures a tone of unreality, a spiritual subjec- tivity that is quite appropriate to religious subjects. The obvious danger from this distortion is that the resultant figure might look too delicate, weak, or even worse, effeminate. Berruguete saw this peril only too well and, in order to counteract it, endows all his sub- jects with tremendous musculature. Right here, then, we have an inconsistency—a hyperbate, we may call it, in the syntax of his art—in the mouldings of a nervous, wiry body, wasted away by much prayer and fasting, with, at the same time, the bulging biceps, pectorals, and thighs of a coal-passer. The absurd combination has, of course, no objective reality, but it may be given some esthetic sanction since it does convey, subjectively at least, the conviction of a mighty spiritual frenzy. The dynamic sweep of the sculptor’s compositions is obtained by the trick of always posturing them in atti- tudes of tense action. By a violent writhing of the torso, twisting back of the head and neck, and clutching and clawing of the fingers of his figures, he gives them a THE GROTESQUE IN SCULPTURE 219 superhuman energy and dramatic impetuosity. Ob- viously the attitudes are untrue; in fact in the majority of cases it may well be objected that the subject does not even balance on a single foot—in the case of the San Benito Sebastidn, upon neither. Furthermore, the con- vulsive postures are incompatible with the very actions they would portray, as is the case with the Toledo Moses. Yet here once more, in spite of technical insin- cerity, we may observe that the strength of Berruguete’s genius is such that no impression is felt of untruth in design or insincerity of purpose. Unrealistic too, yet also excusable because of its subjective meaning, is the sculptor’s delineation of joints, bones, and tendons. As a young man Berruguete began his studies in anatomical sculpture by dissecting dead bodies. The result of this training shows itself in the pronounced definition given to his musculature and in fact to all the usually hidden mechanics of the body. Most of his figures are carved as if the skin had been removed, the ligatures of the neck, wrists, and ankles being especially prominent, as are also the joints of the fingers and toes. Indeed Berruguete represents certain ligaments, such as the intermetatarsal, which cannot be seen save when skin and considerable flesh are re- moved. All these anatomical secrets, when brought to light, give a ghoulishness not altogether inappropriate in depicting ascetic, holy men. Similarly the taut ten- dons and strained muscles, when carved upon Ber- ruguete’s ecstatic fanatics, are quite in keeping with the 220 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE hyper-nervous temperaments with which we usually credit them, though it must be admitted that this hair- trigger tension is often painful to look upon. Yet the most eccentric feature of the artist’s sculp- ture is its coloring. Wood being his favorite medium, some sort of painting was essential to prevent warping and cracking. The Spanish propensity for realism wel- comed this coloring, and polychrome statuary became immensely popular though, as we have already noted, this same realism at first keeps the hues within the bounds of truth. Berruguete’s tints, on the contrary, are as lurid and unnatural as his attitudes. The pink upon the lips of his figures, for example, becomes a violent, whorish vermillion, and their hair a brilliant, burnished gold. Obviously, this again is a departure from verisimilitude, but once more we must insist that the sculptor’s art was largely subjective, and in en- deavoring to make the image secondary to the idea or emotion, his fantastic coloring by its very intensity accentuates the unearthly splendor of his symbols, making them yet more abstract. The most frenzied examples of the artist’s bizarre sculpture are to be seen in the separate figures compris- ing the famous San Benito retable (1527-1533), now in the museum at Valladolid. Of these perhaps the most famous is the Sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham {see plate IX] although it is by no means the most mannered or bizarre. Less robust than most of Berruguete’s sub- jects, the towering figure of Abraham suggests, never- THE GROTESQUEIN SCULPTURE 221 theless, powerful, spiritual passion, and the twist of the head further accentuates its intensity. With a few bold strokes the sculptor represents the torment of a great soul; the patriarch turns his face to God with an expression of supreme despair while a cry of anguish escapes from his lips as he makes ready for the su- preme sacrifice. Upon the countenance of Isaac there is neither love nor resignation, but only terror in the screaming mouth and drawn eyes. The glaring defects of the composition scarcely need to be indicated. The emotions are all theatrical, strident, and disconcerting, and as to the attitudes, they are false from the wrench of the neck down to the long, left foot scarcely touching the ground, the spasmodic kick contrasting so strangely with the lax hands and arms. Especially the facial expressions approach the clap-trap of cheap melodrama, with its gallery convulsions, mouthings, and rantings, so far removed from sober reality. Abraham’s passion lies largely upon the surface and in spite of its dramatic intensity loses much of the quiet yet profound depression produced by overwhelm- ing tragedy. The only quality that prevents the com- position from sinking into grotesque caricature is the flaming earnestness Berruguete infuses into it, for in spite of its flamboyant emotionalism the composition seems genuinely to be alive. Yet even this earnestness cannot save from deserved ridicule the horrible contortions of the St. Jerome in the same retable [see plate X]. Upon enormous fists 222 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE the thin finger bones and knuckles stand out so sharply that the hands resemble the webbed feet of a duck. An undersized head, with cauliflower ears and a damp tongue of beard, rests upon a lean neck which seems to have been given an upward jerk by some awkwardly fitted gibbet. And truly, to judge from the revolting expression, the production might well represent the hanging of some gallows-bird rather than the genuine ecstasy of a professional saint. Finally, the magnificent chest and shoulders, bulging with muscles of heroic proportions, seem unpardonably inconsistent with what we know of this learned ecclesiastic whose body was wasted away by disease and long vigils. With the following decades a wild unrestraint seizes baroque sculpture, exaggerating yet further the super- ficial grimaces and contortions of emotion, and always at the sacrifice of truth and sincerity. Such boisterous- ness, from the fact that its lusty vigor resembles an animal exuberance rather than a spiritual frenzy, is quite antagonistic to the intense religious fervor so peculiar to Spanish art and so boldly accentuated by Berruguete. For this reason sculpture grows increas- ingly florid and even blatant, the only quality that saves it from downright vulgarity being the superabundant energy often observed as the dominant characteristic of every great, creative age. Thus, while the lusty ex- ‘cesses of art are to be condemned by all the canons of classical restraint, they are nevertheless glorious with a THE GROTESQUE IN SCULPTURE 223 certain restless life which, though hectic and unnatural, does still exert a very powerful, sensory appeal. This tendency is marked in the work of Berruguete’s pupil, Juan de Juni (1507?-1577), a characteristic sample of whose style may be seen in the Descent from the Cross [see plate XI] in the cathedral at Segovia. Here no longer are to be found the haggard, ecstatic types of El maestro de la pasién but something rather coarse and plebeian. Indeed, in his search for reality Juni copies his lower characters from the beg- gars, picaroons, and riff-raff wallowing in the gutters of Spain, and even his higher personages appear beefy and sensual. To animate such banal clods he is forced to hurl them into the most turbulent attitudes, screwing their limbs into impossible positions and wrenching their faces into horrible distortions. Berteaux even goes so far as to compare Juni’s figures with bodies wracked by the spasms of a dose of poison, and certainly the supporting soldier to the left of the group justifies his criticism. Some of Berruguete’s mannerisms are also prominent in Juni’s work, but without the spiritual effect of the master, despite the fact that the pupil des- perately exaggerates them. Thus the heads cocked to one side, the fantastic expressions, swirling limbs, and twisted torsos are all nothing more than imitations of the tousser et cracher of genius. To these familiar man- nerisms the sculptor adds a chaos of effusive drapery and a coloring of explosive violence. Startling as Ber- ruguete’s polychromes are, they pale before Juni’s chro- 224 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE matic delirium tremens, for there is a dizzy blaze of red and gold with livid blues and greens, not flat col- ors either, but harsh and brilliant, so that his squirm- ing figures in their lurid enamels resemble nothing so much as a pyrotechnical display. Advancing a few decades further into the Golden Age, we may observe a tendency closely related to this prodigality of color in the wholesale bedizening of statuary with goldish gew-gaws and opulent raiment. The close similarity of this sartorial trumpery, abso- lutely extrinsic to the sculptural composition, with the surcharged metaphors of gongorism, likewise exoteric, is all the more remarkable when we discover the al- most exact synchronization between these ornamental superfluities in the two arts. We may compare the Christ of Monatafiés [see plate XII] in the church of San Lorenzo at Seville, for example, with the sonnet to Bavia written perhaps the same year (1619), or with the great gongoristic poems dating six years earlier, and note how the fantastic, meretricious im- agery of the Spanish Homer finds its analogues in the trappings of this statue. Jointed like a dressmaker’s manikin and provided with a detachable halo and crown of thorns, this Christ is tricked out in an outrageously gorgeous robe of velvet and silk with embroidered gold baroques. The grotesque contrast, furthermore, be- tween the restrained and finely modeled head and the garish, incontinent clothing, is also somewhat similar to Gongora’s grotesque remark in a sonnet on the THE GROTESQUE IN SCULPTURE 225 crucifixion, before alluded to, that Christ could not have been cold when he hung upon the cross because he was sweating blood. We should observe here, perhaps, that the likenesses between a single piece of bizarre poetry and a single piece of bizarre sculpture are neither coincidental nor isolated, nor yet is it a similarity to be observed in the work of Gongora only with perhaps just two or three sculptors. Moreover, the comparisons between the ex- aggerated styles of poetry and sculpture are not fanci- ful nor fortuitous. Many examples of extravagant sculpture, indeed, could be produced to tally with numer- ous contemporary pieces of flamboyant poetry. Practi- cally as many innovators of freakish sculpture could be found as there are exponents of extraordinary litera- ture. Therefore, when we concentrate our attention, say, upon Juni or Berruguete it is only because they typify in a marked degree the style of the exaggerated manner in sculpture, just as, in letters, GOngora does for all gongorism. Then, too, the identity of the unre- strained baroque in sculpture with gongorism is en- tirely too obvious to be fanciful, especially when allow- ance is made for the metamorphosis imposed by the dissimilarity of the two arts upon the single cultural proclivity for extravagant expression. Both in sculpture and in letters there is the same profuse emphasis upon the external adornments of art, the same propensity to accentuate odd characteristics, the same predilection for the subjective and symbolical. Finally, toward the end 226 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE of the great cycle, there is the same attempt to hide barren imagination under decorative fripperies and technical mountebankery. As the Golden Agé draws to a close, sculpture, like literature, loses life and spontaneity, and this, as we have just observed, explains the great emphasis laid upon vulgar ornament. Scarcely a figure is to be seen that is not resplendent with vulgar haberdashery, and even the great sculptures of preceding generations come forth disguised anew with a sartorial glory be- fitting their relative stations, even to the extent of being begemmed with rings and pendants. To object that this taste for well dressed saints is a mark of the peculiar respect and piety of the Spanish temperament, is quite beside the question; indeed, we may observe in passing that this love for tailoring holy personages @ la mode reached a height when true piety was at its lowest ebb. Sculpture, like literature, was dying, and the whole spiritual life of the first half of the eighteenth century was in its death-bed throes. The religious buffoonery satirized by Padre Isla finds its parallels not only in the charlatanic poetry of Leén y Mansilla but also in the absurd mannerisms and quackish embellishments of late sculpture. From about the middle of the seventeenth century and down into the eighteenth a craze for ghastly sub- jects develops—punishments, putrefactions, and all sorts of horrific agonies. It seems almost as if sculp- ture in its declining years would fain dwell upon the THE GROTESQUEIN SCULPTURE 227 subject of death. This ghoulish turn in art affords a splendid field for the exercise of the decadent tenden- cies of the expiring baroque: facial contortions, spasms, lurid colors, and sickening postures, the grewsome de- tails all elaborated with a care that might argue a psychopathic abnormality in both artist and public. Nevertheless, in all this mortuary sculpture there is a leaning towards realism of a kind—a disgusting, de- generate realism, to be sure, that in its use of real hair, porcelain teeth, glass eyes, and beads for tears, is rather an exact copy than an illusion of a higher reality. Consequently, the productions of this doddering epoch resemble the revolting wax figures in a cheap medi- cal museum. The church of Nuestra Sefiora del Pilar at Saragossa, the monastery of Santa Clara at Seville, the cathedral at Granada, and the Colegio de Filipinos de Santa Maria de la Vida, are full of spectacles of harrowing executions, the decapitations of Saint Paul, Saint John, and Saint Anastasia being especial favor- ites. Typical of this class of sculpture is the head of Saint Paul (1707) by Alonso Villabrille [see plate XIII] in the museum at Valladolid, with its superlative whiskers, obtrusive dentition, glassy, up-rolled eyeballs, and livid coloring. We have now seen, in this survey of sculpture, the emancipation of an art, more or less dependent in its early stages upon architecture, to a position of inde- pendence and affluence. We have also observed how, during the creative urge of the Golden Age, this inde- 228 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE pendence verges upon anarchy and the affluence upon crass opulence. Due in part, at least, to the unrestrained magnificence of the age, we noted the extreme popu- larity of polychrome statuary and its own particular propensities toward exaggeration. In the following chapter we shall turn our attention to the use of color in Spanish painting in order to show that during the Golden Age that art has also some analogy to offer to the fantastic poetry of gongorism. 3 iat Ms nay Villabrille John “ Baptist XI. PAINTING AS A FIELD FOR PHANTASY N THE discussion of polychrome statuary in the preceding chapter, we had occasion to observe how sculp- ture is invaded by painting. We may now point out an instance on the other side in which sculpture encroaches upon the pre- rogatives of painting. Just as statues are tinted and sometimes posed against painted scenic backgrounds, owing to a desire for greater vividness and realism, so too, from a similar motive probably, springs the fashion for raising paintings until they resemble bas-reliefs. This effect is secured by applying stucco or plaster to the canvas and then painting over it. Unhappily the raised portions are usually unessentials, such as jew- els, halos, armor, and brocaded clothing, and these are not only raised and painted but further accentuated by heavy gilding. Unless the central motif in a painting of this type is unusually strong, the composition succumbs to the extrinsic embellishment just as surely as the [ 229 ] ite 230 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE motif in gongoristic poetry is overwhelmed by prolix imagery. This meretricious ornamentation begins to show it- self very early in Spanish painting and increases by leaps and bounds as the Golden Age draws near. One of the most conspicuous early examples of the fashion is afforded by the Virgin on the altar of the cathedral at Tarazona (1439), a very mannered product possibly of the Navarro-Aragonese school. By 1490, Pau Vergos carries the style to greater lengths in his repre- sentation of the investiture of Saint Augustine (Ora- tory of the Tanners, Barcelona), though by singularly fine characterization the artist has saved his picture from becoming mere tinsel and glitter. In contrast to this, the Saint Peter [see plate XIV] from a retable in the Dalmay Collection at Barcelona, shows that the artist’s strength of portraiture is not strong enough to make ornament appear as a mere accessory to composi- tion. The picture, consequently, is swamped by the very means which should have contributed to its splendor, and the riot of gold and stucco, like the welter of meta- phors in the Soledades, only stresses the paucity of creative imagination in the painter. We may compare this fad for ornate brocades, raised stucco work, and lavish gilding to those elements of gongorism which we have emphasized as cultist, since the craze is a perversion and exaggeration not of idea but rather of technique. The blaze of gold and the PHANTASIES IN PAINTING mst twisty stucco undoubtedly give to a composition a sort of barbaric éclat quite like the bizarre effect of rich words and wrenched constructions in the language of gongorism, but neither has any spiritual significance. Furthermore, it is significant that the predilection for this ‘“‘cultist” art in Spanish painting also experienced a phase of orgiastic abandon during the latter sixteenth and the first half of the seventeenth centuries, coinci- dent with the rise and flooding of gongorism. Perhaps this false art is a little more characteristic of Ara- gonese and Catalonian painting than Castilian. It does, nevertheless, afford a very fair example of how paint- ing, in company with the other arts, shows itself in sympathy with the boisterous spirit of the great age, for even during the cultural debacle of the eighteenth: century it sinks with its artistical sisters into an equally decadent profligacy. Since we have likened the gilding and stucco work of painting to cultism, we may with justice term “con- ceptist” those mannerisms which seem to possess some spiritual meaning, recalling, of course, that here, just as in literature, there is no sharp line of demarcation between the two qualities. Accordingly, if we may justly regard baroque extravagance and strange man- nerisms as “conceptist,’ we may state further that such ‘“‘conceptism’”’ in painting, even as the “cultism,” synchronizes with all the general phases of the cultural development of the people. On the verge of the Golden Age the “conceptism” of painting is already vividly ap- 232 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE parent; during the classical time it bursts into a weird splendor, and finally degenerates into a grotesque ar- tistical gibberish in the eighteenth century. To illustrate these three important phases in the growth of this sort of painting, therefore, we shall select a single artist for each period whose work will embody its character. The first of these is Luis de Morales (1508?-1586), surnamed “the divine’ with unconscious irony because of his emaciated conceptions of holy men seized in moments of neurotic ecstasy. Mixing Italian beauty, Flemish ugliness, and Spanish realism in various pro- portions, the artist often obtains upon his canvases effects somewhat similar to, though by no means as intense as those wrought by Berruguete in wood. Morales frequently lengthens the faces of his charac- ters, thereby imbuing them with a certain facile spiritu- ality without, however, any of the baroque vigor to be seen in Berruguete’s elongations, and thus Morales’ men are as effeminate as his women are ethereal. The justice of this observation is best recognized in the Virgen de la leche (now in the Prado), which is handled with the most exquisite delicacy, the face of the Virgin being frail and ecstatic with a nebulous luster about the hair and high forehead. On comparing this with the Christ in the Ecce Homo (Hispanic So- ciety, New York) we discover in the latter, almost trait by trait, the same pale beauty, and this quality, when transferred to male characters, renders them weak and womanish, especially when coupled with an air of EE a ae a ee ee PHANTASIES IN PAINTING PAE supercilious aloofness, only too intrusive in this par- ticular composition. As Berruguete over-emphasizes the dramatic vehe- mence of emotion by exaggerated contortions, so Morales dwells upon the motionless rapture of a soul and portrays it by mannerisms which seem less notice- able only because quiet. His fondness for large, deep, liquid eyes, long, slim noses, and narrow, wedge-shaped, chinless faces gives to his heads the same monotonous regularity as one sees in the washed-out water color drawings of women on our popular magazine covers. The “divine” Morales, therefore, owes his divinity merely to a pretty eccentricity quite as much as, let us say, the “divine” Gibson or the ‘divine’ Harrison Fisher—although, being a real artist, it amounts almost to sacrilege to name him in the same breath with them. At times, however, Morales attempts an individuality which straightway plunges him into the grotesque. This is very plain in the Pietd [see plate XV, collection of Sir John Stirling Maxwell, London], in which the artist has depicted the ghastly ugliness of death without any of its icy, austere majesty. The face of the Virgin alone redeems the composition, and she has so gained in tragic intensity as to resemble none of the painter’s character- istic Virgins. That some critics, therefore, have ascribed this picture to a pupil of Morales should be of little importance, inasmuch as we are concerned with the conformity of Spanish painting in general with the spirit of the nation’s culture and not with the ticketing 234 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE of individual pictures. Were Shakespeare’s dramas, for example, written by Bacon or even another man named Shakespeare, it would cast little additional light upon the interpretation of Elizabethan England. Accordingly, we may leave the tempest of authorship in its proper teapot and consider the Christ in the Pietad as one of the earliest important examples of “gongorism’’ in painting, be it by Morales or not. As we observed, the artist has wholly missed the spiritual significance of death, since its futility and re- volting destructiveness alone are emphasized; and this suggests a very morbid if not pessimistic conception of the Savior’s supreme sacrifice. Yet even there the tragedy and profundity of a true pessimism are want- ing—there is little idea or emotion at all, and Morales has attempted to cover up absence of meaning under mannerisms and grotesque conceptions in a fashion characteristic of gongorism. The effeminate face of his — Christ is made still more womanish with its impeccable coiffure of pomaded curls; furthermore, his saucy tip- tilted nose, delicate moustache, and sensuous lips of a distinct, Cupid’s bow pattern are incongruous with the character of Christ. Such a man never could have driven the money-changers from the temple with a scourge of ropes. One has only to compare this face ' with Epstein’s Christ to realize how utterly Morales has lost the man of action. The Christ of the Pretd is a passive, pitiful Savior who has had suffering thrust upon him and who succumbed to it, not one’;who sought PHANTASIES IN PAINTING 235 suffering and overcame it—it is the sort of Christ, in short, that women cry over but no man respects. In contrast to the frail beauty and weak features of this Savior is the charnel-house realism of death, a realism which, despite its possible Gothic, Flemish, or Arabic provenance, has touched a very responsive chord in the Spanish temperament. The artist plays up to this morbid craving of his countrymen by caricaturing the gruesome details of mortality, but with even more bizarrerie than Berruguete allowed in his face of the Cardinal of Tavera. The cheek bones of Morales’ Christ are prominent as bruises and stick out like great welts above a cadaverous face. The eye sockets are deep and the eggish eye ball is unpleasantly corporeal. Still, what is most repulsive are the half-opened lids which, bereft of lashes, allow a glimpse of the glazed, upturned eye—in short, we see the gross physiology of death without its comforting theology. Since the eye, poetic- ally called the window of the soul, is not drawn closed so as to show the spirit’s final abandonment of the house of life, but instead is painted with its blinds half up, one feels irresistibly that the soul is still there and that it too has died, and lies rotting within its grotesque tenement. Of all conceptions of death, both bodily and spiritual, this is the most fantastic and most inappro- priate to draw from the crucifixion of Christ. The work of Morales’ disciples is still more grotesque and mannered, partly because imitators are prone to exaggerate eccentricities alone, and partly because the 236 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE maturing spirit of the Golden Age permitted its ex- cessive vigor to be squandered in bizarre phantasies. Yet here, inasmuch as the scope of our work will scarcely afford space for a consideration of Morales’ artistic heritors, we must pass on, with the mere obser- vation that the tendency towards unrestraint becomes increasingly pronounced as the sixteenth century closes, and devote our attention to the closest analogy which Spanish painting, or for that matter any of the arts of Spain, can offer to the fantastic style in her literature. Accordingly, we shall turn to a painter who comes at the very culmination of a great age, one whose strangest canvases synchronize almost exactly with the bewildering Soledades, one who, because of his wild, mad manner has justly been called the “Gongora of Painting’ —El Greco (1550?-1614). Born in Crete, of the race signified by his sobriquet and suggested by his true name, Domenico Theoto- copoulis, this enigmatic artist though apprenticed in Italy, is perhaps the most fervid ever produced by Spain and hence the most typical of her intense, religious spirit. From his paintings we discover plainly the sensitiveness with which he felt the tempestuous grandeur of the Golden Age, and from them too may be seen how his strange individuality transmutes this epochal ebullience into a turbulent mysticism at once bizarre and rhetori- cal. All of his pictures seethe and swirl with the unre- strained tumult of the time; his conceptions are full of the agony of a passionate soul struggling for utterance PHANTASIES IN PAINTING 237 though choked into partial inarticulation because of the very vehemence of its emotion. Notwithstanding this quality of rapt ecstasy, we cannot help noticing poses, gestures, and extravagant mannerisms. So evi- dent are these adventitious stimulants and so bound up with them the spiritual delirium they produce, that it is sometimes impossible to tell whether the artistic frenzy is a divine language or a gibberish and whether the painter, therefore, is a prophet or charlatan. Like Gongora, El Greco did not develop his flam- boyant phantasies with volcanic suddenness but instead produced them through the process of long evolution. Castro, it may be recalled, described the growth of Gongora’s bizarre manner by comparing the poet to a woman who paints, beginning first with little dabs but, without noticing it, putting on more and more each day until at last there is so much garish color that what once enhanced her beauty repels by grotesque ugliness. The same simile may justly be applied to El Greco, for the chronological study of his work makes it evident that the artist first obtained certain powerful and beautiful effects by mere virtuosities, but later, through attempt- ing to magnify the effect, he exaggerates the virtuosity until finally his theatrical mannerisms lose the last vestige of verisimilitude and stand stark naked, de- void of spiritual significance, altogether grotesque and mechanical. Here, however, since we are not concerned so much with the explanation of how the painter developed his 238 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE exotic manner as with the fact that it does exist, our main interest in describing it will be to show its analogy to gongorism and its significance in the cycle of the na- tion’s artistic culture. It may be of interest first, never- theless, to note several of the theories advanced to account for the artist’s weird style, and then to men- tion several pictures painted at various intervals in his career in order to show, as with Gongora, the gradual growth of his bizarre propensities. After that, we may concentrate our attention upon El Greco’s affinity with the spirit of gongorism. Grotesque, then, as the painter’s genius is, the theories that would account for it are still more grotesque. His change from the Venetian to a more mannered style, a change, by the way, requiring many years, is said to have been occasioned by a remark that his work re- sembled Tintoretto’s. According to the story, the artist was so incensed at this reflection upon his originality that he went to extremes just in order to contradict it. More obvious, though quite as clumsy, is the insanity theory, also flung at Victoria and Gongora, and always a favorite explanation for anything that cannot be com- prehended. This hypothesis has enjoyed a great vogue among many art critics who never understood the painter. Sampere y Miguel for example, in his work El Greco, considers that in the artist’s final or decadent period—always men of genius produce by convenient periods—he lost the equilibrium of his mental faculties. The Portuguese, Ricardo Jorge, in a work also entitled PHANTASIES IN PAINTING 239 El Greco, throws the light of his medical erudition upon the question and diagnoses the painter’s early mental condition as a progenerescencia which ultimately de- veloped into degenerescencia. The painter, indeed, seems to have exercised a peculiar fascination upon Iberian scientists. A certain eye doc- tor, one German Beritens, makes the illuminating dis- covery that El Greco suffered from estrabismo of the right eye, which caused a lengthening of his figure on a vertical line, somewhat similar to the affliction of Reubens, who distorted horizontals. The notion that the artist, like the wise men of Laputa, used only one eye, should be regarded with grave doubt even though the learned specialist has supported his theory with the aid of. chemistry, physics, and eloquence. That El Greco painted distortions and then again normal drawings all in the same picture is also easily explained by this scientist. He affirms that El Greco produced the dis- tortions only when his eyes, or rather his eye, was tired ; and after a few nights’ rest, when the afflicted member regained its pristine capacity, he saw better and put in normal figures. With his eyesight restored, one wonders why the painter did not erase and correct his distortions, but this inconsistency the erudite doctor sublimely ignores. Several critics have noticed the Byzantine element in El Greco’s work, and Melida (El arte antiguo y El Greco) has discovered certain curious resemblances between the Byzantine Greek mosaics of the sixth cen- 240 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE tury, such as the one in the cathedral at Monreale, Sicily, and El Greco’s portraitures, as well as other more fanciful reminiscences in some of the Greek por- traits painted on the mummy cases recently exhumed at Fayum, Egypt. There is, indeed, a vague, disquieting similarity between the fixed, black, staring eyes of this antique art and the portraits of our artist. With this as evidence, therefore, Melida advocates the theory that the painter’s style was an atavistic reversion, or return to a primitive type, deeply fixed in the artistic consciousness of the Greek race. Still, intriguing as this hypothesis is, it savors too strongly of the days of table-turning and spirit-rapping to insure its acceptance at the present time. Castro’s picturesque simile of an unconscious evo- lution seems not only the most natural explanation but the only one supported by the facts in the artist’s work. Often El Greco entertains so great a fondness for his compositions that he later recopies them, sometimes repeating a single one from time to time throughout his whole career. It is in such compositions that the formation and gradual exaggeration of his bizarre style can be observed most perfectly. In his conception, Saint Francis of Assisi (Madrid, D. R. Garcia), probably painted in Italy (1577-1584), one is struck with a golden warmth of color suffusing the picture like the drowsy, yellow sunlight of a late summer’s afternoon. In addition there is a pleasant yet sensuous beauty in the good-natured face of the saint, and a PHANTASIES IN PAINTING 241 robust perfection of physique which is wholly Italian. If this picture be compared with one of the same sub- ject (Madrid, Marqués de Pidal) made a few years later (1584-1590?), it will be seen that the glamorous background has faded to an ashy twilight with a troubled sky. The figure of the saint is still sturdy but somewhat thinner and less corporeal, his hands gesture, and his peaked features delineate, unmistakably, the ascetic. Still later (1590?-1594), comes another con- ception of Saint Francis (Madrid, D. R. P. de Quinto) painted against a ghostly, pallid background of stormy clouds. The gestures become affected, the face cadaver- ous, while the eggy eyes portray the ecstasy of a reli- gious paranoiac. At last (1604-1614) the holy man is painted in the artist’s most erratic manner (Madrid, D. F. Brieva) and the picture has not the remotest resemblance to the first. The clouds in the background swirl like a tremendous tempest and an eerie lightning seems to flicker, fitfully illuminating the gloomy saint. His pose is altogether rhetorical and mannered, his nose unpleasantly long, and though in keeping with his hatchet profile, the high light upon it lends it an incon- gruously doggish aspect, which, with the fixed gaze and tense attitude, unfortunately suggests a sort of spiritual bird-dog frozen into a point before the ascending heavenly dove. The slow metamorphosis into a grotesque style is to be seen not only in the Saint Francis pictures, but all the painter’s canvases show it; and those which have 242 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE been painted within closer intervals of one another, as the Purification of the Temple, owned by Sir H. Cook, and the same subject in the possession of D. A. de Beruete, or the Adoration of the Shepherds in the Royal Gallery of Bucharest and the one in the Metro- politan Museum at New York, reveal more gradual stages of the transition. There can be no doubt, there- fore, that the artist’s fantastic style, like Gongora’s, was the result of a slow but steady conversion. And this fact is of great importance because it shows the irre- sistible formative power of the flamboyant spirit of the Golden Age upon a genius. Were race, artistic heritage, or early training of any effect, El Greco would never have painted as he did, but would have belonged artistically to Greece, Byzantium, or Venice, and con- sequently would never have become more Spanish than Spain. We may look in vain in the artist’s later work for the poise and symmetry of Greece; it has been swept away by the delirious whirl of an im- petuous age. We may search for the sharp, hard col- ors of the Byzantine mosaic and never find them in the marvelous, lineless brushwork and melancholy hues which the artist has infused with the gloomy mysticism of the time. We may long for the voluptuous, corporeal beauty of Italian painting; yet the grotesque caricatures of this artist have nevertheless a spiritual beauty that disturbs while it inspires, and a vigor and frenzy that could belong to no time or clime but the Golden Age of Spain. Never was there a better example of how a PHANTASIES IN PAINTING 243 nation and an epoch forced the destiny of its own cul- ture to become articulate in a genius alien to it in race, in tradition, and in schooling. Never was there a better example of the inevitableness of an artistic style. It is only El Greco’s later works that really need concern us, because they exhibit most strikingly the translation of the spirit of gongorism into the medium of painting. In them the two-fold nature of the liter- ary fashion, the cultist and conceptist, is also dis- coverable and offers analogies, part for part, with its prototypes in poetry. If we examine first of all the cultist elements—the fantastic innovations in the tech- nique of expression—we may discover there a resem- blance, more than superficial, between the neologisms and hyperbates of gongorism and the bizarre novelties of the artist and his violent contrasts of color, light, and shade. This “cultism’” of the medium is best ob- served in El Greco’s only landscape, an impressionistic painting of Toledo (New York, Mrs. Havemeyer), because in his portraits, and to a less extent in his figure groups, the unnatural shades possess only secondary importance, serving merely to heighten the effect of the dominant human feature of the composition. In a land- scape, however, all is in a sense background and, in spite of some passable unity, when no tree or building possesses particular significance, we seem entitled to greater fidelity to nature and consequently feel more sensitive to technical mountebankery. 244 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Although a photograph [see plate XVI] cannot of course reveal the morbid hues which contribute so strongly to the unearthly phantasy of the composition, it does not hide the hectic contrast of steeples and battlements blazing against a lurid background; so we shall not be greatly handicapped when we inspect the naive, theatrical clap-trap out of which the picture is made. To begin with, the artist exaggerates, making gentle slopes precipitous, crags out of innocent rocks, and castles of squat edifices. With this, however, there could be no quarrel were it done artfully enough to keep it from being so obvious, for it could then be pardoned as one of the fanciful fairy scenes of roman- ticism. But El Greco does not stop there. To accentuate his towering battlements he paints them sharp and harsh and stresses their rather clumsy angularity by making his trees and herbage altogether without line; he undulates trunks and makes foliage as amorphous as smoke clouds. Then, cheapest trick of all, he fur- ther calls attention to his bricks and mortar by violent illuminations, painting the lightest outlines against the darkest backgrounds whether such contrasts have any justification or not. Sometimes this lighting is utterly absurd as, for example, the arches of the bridge which show white beneath, albeit the same background above them is excessively dark. Like Gongora, the artist out- rages nature merely to produce a startling effect, and the result is, similarly, nothing but a bewild- ering jumble without form or plan. Like Gongora’s too, PHANTASIES IN PAINTING 245 the genius of El Greco is undoubtedly great, but it is impossible to justify the mad eerie music of either merely because of the haunting minors, when there are at the same time so many noisy discords to distract the sense. Turning now to what we may call “‘conceptist’”’ ele- ments in the artist’s work, let us examine a few of his most fantastic groupings of figures, for there we shall discover an eccentric emotional unrestraint coupled with exaggerated mannerisms such as we noted earlier in the baroque effusions of Berruguete and the gro- tesque metaphors of gongorism. There is, to be sure, as we have so often observed, no clear cut distinction between distortions of form and distortions of idea in these paintings, any more than between the cultism and conceptism of gongorism, but inasmuch as the spirit- uality of El Greco is visible in his very brush strokes, we may perhaps be justified in extending the domain of his “conceptism,” regarding even his mannerisms as aberrations of thought rather than of technique, and his flamboyant expressions of emotion wholly so. El Greco’s most obvious mannerism is the lengthen- ing of the human figure, a racking which sometimes reaches the extreme of twelve or more head lengths. As with Berruguete and Morales, this trite device auto- matically evokes a cadaverous spirituality quite in keep- ing with the popular conception of neurotic holy men. The semi-nude beggar [see plate XVII-a] in the painting Saint Martin (Paris, M. L. Manzi) shows 246 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE how absurd this stretching becomes. El Greco avoids the ethereal effeminacy which such lengthening gives to the work of Morales, by endowing his subjects with an exaggerated musculature, after the fashion of Ber- ruguete. The beggar then, despite the fact that he pos- sesses the knees of a woman and the hands of a lady, retains a sort of athletic though gangling virility, but at the same time the imbecilic ecstasy upon his face, the ogling eyes and blubberous lips, make an outrageous contrast to the tense, hard sinews of the right arm and torso, a contrast which has back of it the same spirit that produced the oxymorons of gongoristic poetry. A sketch [see plate XVIII] of the head of Saint Se- bastian (Toledo, Marqués de la Vega Inclan) illustrates the equivalent of gongoristic hyperbole in painting. This portrait reminds one of a reflection of a truly fine face seen in a lengthening mirror, and in spite of the fantastic distortions there still remains sufficient trace of greatness for one to guess at the sublimity that might have been reached had the artist only expressed himself with fidelity. As it is, the very qualities which should have stirred the soul are so exaggerated that the be- holder is justly exasperated at the miscarriage of genius, while he is amused with its grotesqueness. The muscles of the figure are as hideous as nightmares and leave one with the same uneasiness; the swan-like neck needs no comment; and the lugubrious, dying-calf ex- pression upon the face, with its swollen jowls, adenoidal mouth, and foreshortened nose is typical of many of PHANTASIES IN PAINTING 247 El Greco’s characters. Here too, the painter’s ‘‘meta- phors” resemble those of gongorism, because in spite of their prolixity, there is a besetting monotony in all his poses, gestures, features, and even expressions. It matters not how striking or even how bizarre his atti- tudes may be, there is a paucity of imagination behind them all, and in spite of the artist’s continual jangling with his few though unusual elements, the variations never suggest a profound knowledge of life. They rather leave one convinced of the very narrowness of his genius. The altisonant rhetoric of gongorism also has its analogues in El Greco’s art, for can we not compare his sweeping gestures and pompous attitudes with the ver- bal fanfaronades of the seventeenth-century lyric? Do not the voluminous, flowing garments of the painter’s figures suggest its sonorous, redundant periods sur- charged with exoteric ornament? Can we not truly call his poses rhetorical, since they are not so much the result of emotion as the desire, more or less sincere, of conveying that emotion to the admirer? If one will but study the drapery and gesticulations in the Nativity [see plate XIX] and note its meretricious baroques of cherubs, one cannot fail to be impressed with the striking parallel afforded to bombast—a bombast so noisy and chaotic that it completely intrudes upon the composi- tion and obfuscates the last vestige of spiritual meaning. Closely allied with bombast and hyperbole in paint- ing is another trait in which E] Greco’s art resembles 248 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE gongorism. This is the exaggerated emphasis placed upon feeling, a characteristic essentially baroque and often suspiciously hollow, inasmuch as it is difficult for a genuine emotion to be as theatrical as the perfervid hocus-pocus that attempts to conjure it up. The Resur- rection (Madrid, Prado Museum), though somewhat earlier than the fantastic pictures so far described, is one of the artist’s most spectacular canvases and, ac- cordingly, will serve as an example of his emotional orgasms. In this composition [see plate XVII-b] the artist has sharpened the contrast of hectic soldiers by drawing the figure of the ascending Savior serenely triumphant, and in spite of engrafting the thighs and calves of a college oarsman upon Christ, El Greco does succeed in making him spiritual and reposeful. Against this tranquility the artist places a lurid group of frus- trated soldiers in the most impossible attitudes. A tur- moil of arms and legs, flashing swords, and convulsive gestures, together with a ghastly lighting and coloring that make the figures look as if they had been seen in the spectral glare of a mercury arc lamp, all contribute to an emotional seizure that, if it be disingenuous, bor- ders on the insane. Yet El Greco was by no means unbalanced ; it seems more likely that his emotional pyrotechnics were, like Gongora’s poetical ones, merely artistical affectations engendered by the cultural milieu of the age. This sup- position is certainly supported by an examination of PHANTASIES IN PAINTING 249 - the Laocoon (Sanlucar de Barrameda, Palacio del Infante D. A. de Orleans) for there the painter shows how insincere, at times, he could become. The Trojan sire and one son are depicted in the mortal agony of being strangled by two serpents [see plate XX]. Yet the herculean figure of the father, sprawling in an im- possible position, dwarfs the snake into insignificance and makes its danger almost ridiculous. With his right hand he has seized the head as if it were a telephone receiver while his left grasps its middle, no larger than a small whip. The son, with a still smaller reptile, stands like a circus performer playing with a hoop, and his graceful body, together with that of the supercilious toe dancer at the right of the picture, robs the compo- sition of the last shred of tragic reality. El Greco has painted not a drama but a hollow farce, full of silly baroque poses and devoid of truth. One more picture remains to be discussed, the Vision of the Apocalypse (Zuloaga, Paris), in describing which we may aptly apply a term used elsewhere, and call it the painter’s “Soledades’ [see plate XXI], inasmuch as it represents his most delirious phan- tasmagoria. Against a melodramatic, storm-lashed sky, murky and unearthly, the artist flings a bizarre mantle of red, and beneath it, horribly distorted, naked bodies writhe and leap in a mysterious manner. Formless cherubs, as pudgy as the other figures are elongated, ride through the tumultuous air on strangely colored robes. Fantastically tinted, too, is the voluminous man- 250 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE tle, falling into “altisonant” folds about the colossal figure of the kneeling saint in the foreground. Rhe- torical, unrestrained, and flamboyant is the saint him- self, whose mannered hands and outstretched arms are repeated, partially at least, in four other personages in the composition. His face is also nothing but a type, an insincere pose of baroquish ecstasy, almost identical with the face of the Saint Sebastian, and although there is a certain mawkish, theatrical emotionalism in the whole, it fails to achieve true greatness and only irri- tates with its too obvious clap-trap of stage thunder, fustian, and fretful gesticulating. In short, it is a per- fect interpretation of that sublimely meaningless chaos contained in the last book of the Bible. All the weird mystery, the garish beauty of Revelation, the jumble of symbolism and allegory as of a dark prophecy gone mad, is expressed on this one canvas. It is something more than a painting, it is the visualization, indeed, of that strange dream on the isle of Patmos. El Greco presents an analogy to Gongora as exact as it is perfectly synchronized. And it is not merely the accidental coincidence of two mad geniuses in separate provinces of art, but rather a simultaneous and parallel development of their very arts. The poet and the painter alike possess a long esthetic ancestry and still more numerous esthetic heirs, so that we may regard each not as isolated freaks but as symbols of their respective flamboyant styles that created a tremendous pandemo- nium in their respective fields. Similar to Gongora also, PHANTASIES IN PAINTING 251 El Greco comes at the flood of the nation’s cultural de- velopment, and he likewise marks its large prodigality as well as its proximate degeneracy. Men of genius are not wholly the haphazard playthings strewn by a careless Providence over the floors of time; they are the treas- ures accumulated by a people of mature artistic con- sciousness, and, furthermore, they are treasures hoarded within the compass of a few decades. Men of genius never produce a golden age any more than a child can conceive and give birth to its parent. It is the spirit of the race which, when the cycle of its time is fulfilled, brings them forth inevitably. The same age that once and for all created Lope, Alarcon, Tirso, Calderon, and Cervantes, also gave to painting Murillo, Ribera, Zur- baran, and Velasquez. Gongora and El Greco represent the decay already beginning in that period of culture, and if they sometimes attain true greatness it is largely because the age that produced them was great. Still, if El Greco represents the beginning of a gen- eral disintegration of Spanish painting, is it not strange that Velasquez, coming later, embodies the very epi- tome of its perfection? Perhaps the reader may recall a similar paradox in the case of Gongora, who initiated a decay in poetry some years before Alarcén pro- duced his best work, and practically at the same time that Lope and Cervantes gave theirs to the world. The explanation is the same for both cases, and it lies in the fact that certain genres of art are more limited in scope than others, and hence mature and decay earlier. 252 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE To recall in substance our earlier comparison, the works of genius are like the fruits upon a tree, some of which ripen and rot while larger ones yet wax upon the bough. Nevertheless, when the more ephemeral fruit lies upon the ground it is a sign that a general falling is imminent and that the days of golden genius will soon be past. There can be no question that the scope of El Greco’s art is far more limited than that of Velasquez, just as the lyric of Gongora, pruned and clipped as fantastic- ally as a formal garden, is more limited than the all- embracing vistas of Lope and the tremendous land- scapes of Cervantes. El Greco’s outlook is restricted to religious subjects, and even there it is further narrowed down by his predilection for morbid or unbalanced emotional states, and such fields, by their very nature, invite phantasy. Velasquez, on the other hand, explores every phase of the wide life of his day, and being a realist and painting from life rather than from im- agination, he is never upset by bizarreries. Indeed, we may call El Greco the Don Quixote of Spanish paint- ing, and Velasquez the Sancho Panza. Both represent the soul of Spain and both portray it equally well, for one presents the ideal and the other the real; together, as in the novel of Cervantes, their Spain is fully de- lineated in all her complexity and in all her contra- dictions. Since El Greco, the: knight of many woeful figures, was by nature an aristocratic and passionate, high-minded dreamer, it is not surprising that he should go tilting at chimeras with brush and palette, and that PHANTASIES IN PAINTING 253 his furious eccentricities should herald the disruption of the great painting of the Golden Age. There are, nevertheless, indications of a degenerate flamboyance in other master painters of this very period. The furious brushwork and caricatures of Fran- cisco Herrera (1576?-1656) are as extravagant as El Greco’s, and the attitudes of some of Francisco Ri- balta’s (d. 1628) figures are quite as violent. Francisco Zurbaran occasionally makes a fetish of the ugly, An- tonio de Saavedra y Castillo elongates his harsh faces, and Pedro de Moya with his pupil Juan de Valdés Leal attracts notice altogether by mannerisms. These, how- ever, are, as we said, only the forewarners of the im- pending artistic chaos which sank Spanish painting into as fantastic a morass, during the late seventeenth and the eighteenth centuries, as that which had over- whelmed the poetry of the same period. We may see the depths of this decadence in the grandiose obscurity of Luca Jordan (d. 1693), an artist whose work is so enigmatic that he himself boasted, like a singer of the Trobar clus, that no one could interpret it. We may trace it still further in the forlorn mannerisms of Ra- phael Mengs and in the host of painters who affected such a morbid avidity for ghastly and grotesque sub- jects. Indeed, this ‘“gongorism” persisted in painting down into the nineteenth century as the horrible dis- parates [see plate XXII], caprichos [XXIII], and fantastic caricatures [see plate XXIV] of Francisco de 254 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Goya (1746-1828), our third and last example, well testify. The significance of this splurging, bizarre effusive- ness in painting, and its concomitance with a kindred, nauseating effusion in the florid styles of sculpture, architecture, and music, show that without a doubt the over-gorged culture of the Golden Age had then reached the limit of its capacity. This culture had ever been greedy of beauty, had possessed an uncontrollable appe- tite for the rich and exotic, and finally, intoxicated with the poisonous fumes of powerful artistic stimulants, it began with a convulsive vomiting of its unassimilated, highly flavored rarities, a long and disquieting period of sickness. Since poetry is but one of the artistic senses of culture, are we to believe that its sickness, gon- gorism—which is in all essentials so similar to the fantastic aberrations present in the other arts—is wholly isolated? Rather is it not that the explanations and understanding of gongorism are identical to that required for the distortion present at the same time in the other artistic senses? Does not its cause rest upon the fact that the very culture of the time was showing signs of losing its spiritual health? \ C92 poetry, its parallels in he arts of Spain, <7 and its analogues in alien literatures. Before AC 7A we pronounce the valedictory and send out into an indifferent world our academically nurtured opinions concerning the fantastic style, let us rapidly recall the most important—the prize winners in the graduating class of gongorism—and perhaps add a few words by way of parting exordium. We should remember, then, that scarcely one-fifth of Gongora’s poetry can be described as gongoristic— that is, characterized by the taste for strange words and constructions, bizarre tropes, and obscure allusions. Worthy of note too, is the fact that the peculiar style of this small fraction of the Spanish Homer’s work was not formed suddenly but underwent a gradual evolu- tion, reaching, as far as quality is concerned, the acme of its erratic development sometime between 1600 and 1605. As to quantity, when Gongora visited the Span- ish court, saw there a frivolous society avid for novel- [250 256 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE ties, found rhymesters innumerable playing for quick applause, and witnessed them win it by cheap poetical fripperies, then he too turned metrical mountebank. Never had his work of genuine merit received sub- stantial recognition, and so, between 1610 and 1615, or thereabouts, he brought to the altar of the meretri- cious muse those long poems so famous in the annals of gongorism. But this flamboyant verse brought him little emolument, and once more the poet resumed a more normal manner; from 1615 until his death in 1627 his grotesque utterances became sporadic, being then usually composed only upon adulatory occasions. It is important to bear in mind the immense vogue of gongorism, even in the face of able and energetic op- position. Not only the swiftness of its spread but the length of its duration argue that the phenomenon was much more than a passing fad. Its great “success” lay in the fact that there was something in the culture of the age to give it root, and for this reason it is, of course, unjust to accuse Gongora of being creator and perpetrator of all gongoristic poetry. For many a de- cade the seed and shoots of these esthetical tares had been sown in the fields of Spanish verse. We have noted its luxuriant verbiage in the poetry of Mena and Padilla, to say nothing of the many lesser rhymesters composing before Gongora. developed his eccentric style. In addition to the existence of a fantastic manner in poetry before Gongora’s time, the occurrence of a CONCLUSION 257 similar style in fields of art entirely without the sphere of his influence and even before his day, lends assur- ance to the conviction that gongorism is the disease of an age and a culture rather than of an individual. Surely it is impossible to lay at GOngora’s door the con- ceptist music of Victoria, the unrestrained and strident sculpture of Berruguete or Juni, the ornate plateresque and baroque in architecture, and the erratic painting of El Greco. Nor are the major arts the only provinces wherein the fantastic magnificence of the seventeenth century finds expression. The showy sumptuousness of dress with its starched ruffs, costly plumes, slashed doublets, and brocaded silks and velvets has back of it the same spirit so extraordinarily articulate in the poetry of gon- gorism. And this extravagant sartorial foppishness embraced an inordinate display of jewels and gold, and a craze for pomades, cosmetics, and exotic perfumes. Strangely in contrast to this efflorescent luxury seems the extreme punctiliousness of courtly manners, the austere code of the pundonor. Yet here too, in the very preciosity and minuteness of the rules governing a gentleman’s conduct, can we not see the same over-re- fined subtilizing, so ubiquitous in the conceits of gon- gorism? One of the most noted qualities of gongorism is the barrenness of thought embedded at the same time in a wealth of exoteric imagery. This is also characteristic of Spain in that great age, for in spite of its absolute 258 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE bankruptcy we find great lords prodigal to the point of wantonness. The unrestraint and bombastic magnificence of the Spanish Homer’s verse was more than matched by the gorgeous lavishness of the exaggerated produc- tions of the Buen Retiro. Again, the Trimalconian ban- quets of the rich, with their voluptuous foods and the tragalism of the orgies too often following are parallels to the crapulous tropes of the Soledades. Here the un- restraint seems paradoxical in the face of the austerity of the religion then so powerful. But after all, was it really so austere? Apart from the rigors of the Inqui- sition, whose domain was political rather than personal, one finds the church too often closing her eyes to sin in high places and failing to open them in low. In spite of the much advertised mortifications of professional mystics, one discovers a strong tendency in the priest- hood of the age to condone the sins of the flesh so long as the intellect and the pocketbook were at one with God. By a complicated higher mathematics of casuistry, it was possible to evolve formulae that would solve the most lascivious veneries. In such systems one finds once more the conceptism of gongoristic poetry, par- ticularly in the subtleties of Jesuitism and in the no- torious quibblings of the later Escobar. The political expansion of Spain with its countless wars stimulated unrestraint. and engendered quixotic enterprises before which the erratic undertakings of poetry pale. The bizarre yet romantic adventures of Miguel de Castro or Alonso de Contreras, for example, CONCLUSION 259 surpass the most fantastic verse. And wherever the golden, castellated galleons went flaming with the flags of Spain ovet the seas of the world, there magnificence was unbounded. Wherever the armies of Philip took their stand, there was blood and bravery for countless melodramas. Even the Invincible Armada, sailing out after glory beyond the pillars of Hercules, in a swirl of smoke from the booming of a thousand guns, was it not also some bizarre hyperbole, some monstrous gongoristic figure signifying nothing but stupendous emptiness ? If all these parallels do not suggest the depth and extent of gongorism and thereby relieve the poet Gon- gora from the responsibility of the fantastic style, addi- tional evidence can be found which will disclose him as the victim rather than the abettor of the mad manner. We have already observed the occurrence of phases of erratic writing in numerous other literatures. In some instances, as for example the Icelandic or the Alex- andrine Greek, the similarity to gongorism is astonish- ing, not only in itself but also in view of the impossi- bility of influences upon the Spanish style. Had these strange periods happened irregularly, they might possibly be attributed to a number of accessory causes, always present though more or less obscurely, and so be explained away with some show of scholarly finality. This, however, is not the case; rather it is ap- parent that these deplorable literary seizures come in- evitably and at definite times, that is, during or sequent 260 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE to periods of great artistic expression. At such times the bizarre malady is also most pronounced and seems clearly to suggest the pessimistic diagnosis that the nation is spiritually sick and must presently enter upon a long and downward path. Yet why should a culture ever become infirm? Has it, like life itself, a limited span, a brief destiny which, being fulfilled by the climax of a major fruition, ends in a period of decay, degeneracy, and gradual falling into impotence? Truly, the history of every art seems to bear an affirmative answer to this question, and although the era of disintegration lasts longer for the culture of one people than another, and although in this slow dying there may be brief and hopefully revivi- fying rallies, the relapse is inevitable, is attended by all the ugly garrulity of senile expression together with its rambling phantasies, and the end, oblivion, awaits every one of its “masterpieces.” The feverish sickness of romanticism with its maundering introspections, senti- mental droolery, and childish unrestraints has deceived many into thinking that a decrepit culture was becom- ing young and strong again. The present witnesses a reaction from that hectic rally, and the present with its spasmodic epilepsies of free verse, jazz, cubism, futurism, post impressionism, and various other ultra “gongorisms,” would deceive us into believing that western art was really in its infancy instead of uttering already, and only too plainly, its ugly death rattle. CONCLUSION 261 We of the English tradition may point perhaps to the Lake poets as proof that genius still lingers in our culture, but we must admit they pale before the Eliza- bethans; and no matter how earnestly we might desire to place, let us say, Wordsworth’s ode beside Hamlet’s soliloquy, it is impossible not to be impressed with the lack of power and the creative senescence that our cul- ture has suffered in two centuries. However fine the ode may be, we cannot but feel that the Intimations of Im- mortality may not be immortal, while on the other hand the soliloquy on death will never die. Equally odious, yet equally true, comparisons might be made between the classic writers and the romanticists of Spain, Italy, and France (Hugo or Chateaubriand with Racine and Moliére) ; but it will not be necessary to prove the obvious. We may perfect the technique of art and ex- press ourselves more adroitly and cleverly, we may give voice to our particular little decade with brilliance, we may, in short, deceive ourselves into thinking that we are creating great art, and so die in blissful ignorance before the next generation can undeceive us, although time will eventually prove that we lack the fire of true creativeness. There is no philosopher’s stone that can perpetuate the life of art, no talisman that will trans- mute the dross of later centuries into the gold of genius. Whatever the future may have in store for us in com- merce, discovery, or science, shall we not remember that it is the past which holds the memory of our greatness in the arts? And should we ever in an unguarded mo- 262 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE ment be taken in by the trickeries and blatant manner- isms of modern “art,” can we not stop and compare them with that sublime memory of bygone days and judge their futile eccentricities by the archetypes we found in the gongorism of the Golden Age? per NOTES ON CHAPTERS NOTES ON CHAPTER I (1) The propitious dawn of gleaming Hesperus F That now suffuses the two eclyptics Makes the Sandoval crimson which it gilds today. (2) Of the pine always placed upon the mountain opposite. (3) Where the foamy Sicilian sea Plates with silver the foot of Lilybeo. (4) The gold that was guarded by the vigilant, terrible dragon from tender Alcides. (5) Lascivious in respect to the movement But honest in respect to the eyes. (6) Gives to the sea sweet and tearful complaints of love in such wise that, the sea condoling him, his miserable lament served to pacify waves and wind, just as if it had been uttered by the sweet instrument of Arion. (7) Artificially gives exhalation. (8) camitio Oh white, prolix moon! ISABELA Oh proud Endymion! My treasure! CAMILIO Seal up your lips. ~ ISABELA My soul weeps! CAMILIO Let it weep a river. ISABELA [ shall cry. CAMILIO Cry. LAURETA Oh abhorrence! ISABELA Qh love! CAMILIO Oh honor ! LAURETA Oh ill-fated star ! (9) With death free you from death And conquer hell with hell. (10) Admiration, clad in cold marble, Could hardly arch her eyes; Emulation shod in hard ice Is rooted heavily. [ 263 ] 264 (11) (12) (13) (1) (2) (3 ——) (4) (5) (6) GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE Will you, in the year that a plural comet Presages unhappy mourning to the crowns, Follow the footsteps of the astute Greek? The woods, divided into little isles And producing that fragrant aroma Which, transported with difficulty across Egypt, At a late moment the Nile carried it to its mouths, And these, still later, on to gluttonous Greece; This spikenard is no spike but a spur to the appetite So that, as long as Rome delayed in discovering it, The tastes of Cato were temperate and Lucretia chaste. So then this formidable yawning of the earth, melancholy void and terror of that mountain land serves Polyphemus as a resting place, a shadowy shelter and spacious fold that encloses the shaggy peaks and shuts up a flock of mountains, a splendid amplitude that at once conjoins the echo of whistling birds and seals up a crag. NOTES ON CHAPTER II Lady, whose worth so far exceeds the mortal being, any- one would give you a wing of the god of love for your hand! My loves are royal. How stylish is Vergel’s new blouse, Tricked out with the most precious stones— Stones that were given his spouse For her interest in other men’s stones. I am a gongoristic poet A valorous imitator Of the style that is not understood By the fools of this age. And this I deduce from the fact that Géngora said, “he was writing in the crimson hours when dawn was rosy and the day rose-red”; from which one may conclude that he then was eating. He said to Peter with a smile, “Look here, old man, go slow, For in a mighty little while Your rooster’s going to crow- NOTES ON CHAPTERS 265 (7) Here, under concrete, lies a captain whole (8) (9) (1) Whose rations from the abstract were abstracted. The ulcers, pox and chancres he contracted Served him for mess kit, bunk, and bedding roll. See that his coffin is a kneading bowl, Since life for him with breadcrumbs was enacted, And have no tolling bells for him impacted— What killed him was their dole, dole, dole. In short his life on earth was very short But long enough to learn what battles mean. He moored his cups inside a cupboard’s port And from the bark could tell a barkantine, And if he wanted coffee, just for sport He ground up paper, spice and leaves yet green. Most learned brother John, giant of wisdom, Marvel and astonishment of Parnassus, Second Lope and new Garcilasso, Whom Apollo himself holds in reverence. France hastened to the tatterdemalion peace, They heed neither Osuna nor yet Monteleon; Lexington does not intervene for France; But the old woman and Ronquillo play a rdle. Deceiving with tinsel promises, The evacuation does not evacuate the humor of the French; France says now “Yes” and now “No” Because her nature is rattlebrained. Castile does not conquer the Portuguese And Catalonia is always obstinate In going over to France for her own interest. Castile belongs to Philip And France turns every thing upside down Making greater discord with her peace. NOTES ON CHAPTER III With this vigilance, earlier, in a dissertation, “Gongorism and the Artistic Culture of the Golden Age’, Harvard Uni- versity, 1926, the author approached the question of the quantity of gongorism in Gongora’s poetry. Confining the investigation to the five hundred poems edited by Foulché- Delbosc, in the Obras poéticas de D. Luis de Géngora, the 266 (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) * GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE amount of gongorism was tabulated year by year, poem by poem, and even line by line. In this manner it was possible to establish definitely not only the total quantity of gon- gorism but also the date and rate of its intrusion in the poet’s work. The results of all this drudgery were startling in view of the opinion prevalent upon the subject. Géngora et le gongorisme considerés dans leur rapports avec le marinisme (1909), and Lyrisme et préciosité cultistes en Espagne (1913). When she her temples beautiful engirt And round about her flung a flowing skirt Which set a boundry to the gold and snow Of hair and skin, I swear did never glow Her flowery garland like her starry eyes That rivalled night with its illumined skies. The thicket knows new trunks today and the mountain, stones. Be witnesses today of these tears Which Licius sheds, and of this humble vow J That ruddy Phoebus makes on beholding Clotus Breaking the thread of life of his Cloris. What ivory from the Ganges, or what white Parian marble, What gleaming ebony, What ruddy amber or what excellent gold, What fine silver or what crystal so clear, What pearl like drop of dew, What precious oriental sapphire, what burning ruby Or what cunning hand of an exceptional sculptor In this present happy time, ... ? The planking of the vessel torn apart, Pious yet cruel sign of wreckage Of the holy temple with its tattered curtains Caused these hangings to be set on the walls. Having pardoned the injuries of the weather And the violence of the stormy stars of Orion, I assemble the scattered flocks On the expansive banks of the Betis. I shall again be a shepherd, since a mariner God will not have me be, for with his darts he urges on The winds of the south and the waters of the ocean; (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (1) NOTES ON CHAPTERS 267 Making, to the melancholy though savage sound Of that bitch, now wild mistress, A yearning to the wild beasts and to the cruel rocks, A messenger was the archer For he was a messenger. Hellish glories Glorious hells. This bitch’s name is tuberose— Get down and prove it with your nose. Most plants through petals render scent But this one sends it through a rent. Crusados bring crusaders, From nobles, nobles spring As well as threadbare traders. Where dukes be, duckats ring And marks be marquis’ aiders While crowns will make a king, Forsooth. Yesterday a human deity, today a bit of dust; Yesterday an altar, today a tomb, Oh mortals! Plumes, though they be eagle plumes, Are still plumes, who does not know this errs much. The bones that this sepulchre encloses today, Would, were they not embalmed in oriental spices, Give ample proof of corruption to mortals; Let reason make clear what this marble hides. The Phoenix, that had Lerma yesterday for her Arabia Is now a maggot in worm’s meat, And serves as a warning to persons of understanding. If the ocean can engulf a whale What shall it avail a boat to have lights in the cabin? Dust unto dust, for thus all beings must. NOTES ON CHAPTER IV While continuing caring for myself may I well take care That I should not care at all for this caring For being so cared I might kill myself from caring And therefore I care to take care in this; If there were some one that would care for me 268 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE He would care for that which I did not care to care for With such care that he would free me From my great care in caring still. (2) Eve, the mother of Abel turned into a bird. (3) Turning myself to the modern crowd. (4) Married ones devouring ashes. (5) Ido not know who can speak it. (6) When I saw my life dying And life given to my sins Whose life is extinguished From one who was unknown To my unequal afflictions Then I well considered I thought that my thought so strong Would not have besides That which would torment me About death. (7) After the painter of the world Designed our vain life, The three faces of Diana Expressed joyful countenances. And he shed light upon the cradles Where Jupiter engendered That son of Latona In the niche of the zone That girdles all the globe. Of the one whose deeds and enjoyments Partook of the nature of a bull Of the copious treasure Of the mane with hairs of gold Where Phoebus then lived. At that time I found myself In a wild forest Of Thessalian trees And unknown to men I was walking. (8) Through the flaming twelfth abode, Towards the part of the brilliant Eurus We saw the great, hairy butcher Going up diligently by steps and degrees: (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) NOTES ON CHAPTERS 269 In the middle, keeping to the ascent, Was shining Phoebus, fiercely burning Shedding its light through the starry heaven, Striking very suddenly His center no less perfect than passed. ~ At the time when the blazing, Very radial Apollo Entered upon the first step Where the golden fleece arose In the equinox: Having passed the last port Of the Hesperic nation Its mundane machine, Through the occidental course Equitating on the Phlegethon. Justina’s brothers laid upon her their Hands, tongues and after this an order: The judge commanded her to pay the notary’s costs; Baths, judges, (she says) I shall appeal to the chief Before whom I shall call the jousts of Guevara, Cake of butter and breast of diamond. I am much of a poet who has drunk from the secret spring, Even I who at one time grazed on the mount of parnassus, I am weary with struggles to surpass swords: And now I will neither give vent to blows nor slaps. Like a swan that with its last breath Lives and dies singing the same thing, And conjoining the sepulchre and nest Articulates its accents more vividly: Equally upon his hard bed, upon a slow fire The unconquerable Spaniard, living and dead, Uttered this divine harmony While surrounded by tyrants and torments. There breaks the darkness of a gloomy cave A monster covered with brownish snakes, And between the bloody points of halberds It tries to kill while killing furiously. But out of the dark and fearsome sepulture, Raging, there rush out roaring attendant furies, Bastard daughters of Pluto and the night Who snatch at life and madness. 270 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE From this monster springs three giants, And from these three giants, Doralice, And from this Doralice is born one Bendo. Thou, oh beholder, who looketh upon this, be not afraid If you understand it not; for although I did it May I thus be assisted because I do not understand it. (14) If her forehead was not snow, It was a sky above two arches, Which, to the rain of my eyes, Predicted fair weather. In whose shadow were seen Two beautiful and azure suns, Sapphires and precious stones From these that weep portraits; Although from them chaste love Then made two reprints That served me for mirrors They were false glasses. (15) Divine Ceres, Celestial Mary, Goddess of the wheat God sowed in your breast, It was God’s finger that worked up your pasture. The wheat, ground between the millstones of the cross, Formed that bread of nectar and ambrosia, That went down from God to a God at His command. NOTES ON CHAPTER V (1) Oh leave me love, full many a precious day Is wasted that upon thy worth I set, While all I have of thee is this, regret, The only thing thou canst not take away. Mine eyes, what use have I for them I say, Have not their very tears engulfed them yet? Yea, every sense of mine that thou couldst get Is doubly sick and sore from thy foul play. Come, leave my bosom, love, ere I be spent And breathe forever out this burning wind. Canst thou look in my heart and find it pent And yet no pity for its anguish find? That cannot be, I know thou wouldst relent If thou wouldst see me, love,—but thou art blind. NOTES ON CHAPTERS 271 (2) While striving to outshine your crown of hair (3) (4) (5) (6) The sun’s resplendant burnished gold must bow, While with surpassing scorn your snowy brow Outdoes the prairie with its lilies fair, . While for your lips more eyes with yearning stare Than look upon the first carnations now, While with a fine disdain your neck I trow Casts in the shade the shining crystal rare; Let neck, brow, hair and lips rejoice this hour Because your golden age could thus transmute The crystal, lily, gold, carnation flower, As well as silver or the violet mute, So even you, with all your magic power, To shadows, air and earth must fall the loot. I write and asking beseech you to answer with such manifestations of your eloquence, wit and excellency, the things I write of Spain; comparing peoples, nations and provinces, the which I make clear by uttering excellent letters in Latin and Spanish. The subject cold and dure, , The manner so obscure, No dame though wise and fine Can possibly divine If she’s made vile or pure. A subtle metaphor when there is need I grant is pleasing if it’s rarely used, But there’s no merit when the right’s abused. To say of dawn, “’Twas at the time, indeed, The Phoebic knight who dwells beyond the waves Pricked o’er the peaks his pareoric steed ;” Or speak of summer thus, “Aurora braves A sojourn in her pristine domicile, And Phoebus, cornute Taurus gilds the while ;” These are perchance not wholly to be damned But anything that’s worse might well be slammed, At least that is my somewhat callow creed. Go, pen a sonnet that shall wing its flight Above the unattained Caucasian crags, In hyperflorid style that never lags Though crammed with attic lore and learning tight. Speak not of snow, such clearness is not right When words like “pearls” and “ambar” come in bags; Be never clear, for clearness always drags And bigger fools will claim your darkness light. 272 GONGORISM AND THE GOLDEN AGE NOTES ON CHAPTER VI (1) Within a short while the bitter season and the wind, whistling, agitate the branches, all of which, already take on varied hues from the enfolding of the leaves within the branches; and since a bird there neither sings nor chirps Love teaches me to compose such a song that shall neither be a second or third but the first for dissolving a hard heart. Love is the key to worth and the reservoir of prowess, wherefrom all good fruit is engendered, if it be faithfully cultivated. One should not take from it snow or ice while it is maturing within its good trunk but one should pull off the vile and the perfidious so that the good may obtain it. (2) Rome will become a love to you because of these dis- turbances. (3) To distinguish well the tricks and feints of a stag, The course, the run, the break and the beat, Its grazing ground, couch, range and wallow, And take the chase well and hold the cue well; And as if he were born from one of the nymphs of the wood To size up the stance and the head of an old buck, Its bur, branches and grain, Its big buds, points and beam, Its tines, its bosset, strong and well sprung, Its fine span and its crown, He knew how to call off and talk to the hounds, He marked the blazes well and was the first To know the print, the bite and the spoor, The buns, the leash and the rut grass, and knew Without seeing the stag what sort of branch he wore After having seen only the tracks showing his prints and gait. (4) And Jupiter himself who lets loose the storm Entered the lodge of Bauce and Philemon. (5) ’Twas in that season when the heavenly hound While barking breathes out flame, when boils the air, When still or raging, e’er he circles round *Mid flower and field and peak and country fair: Then in the woodland caves the shepherd found A resting place with springs and shadows there, Where scathless he might dwell while Phoebus broils The wild beast’s back that was Alcides’ spoils. INDEX Alderete, Bernardo, 108 Alexandrinism, 144 Alvernhe, Peire, 136, 163 Anderson, Rasmus, 130-131 ’Antara, 134 Arabic affectations, 134-136 Architecture, baroque, 201-202; Gothic, 192-194; plateresque, 196-197 ; Romanesque, 191-192 Arezzo, Guittone, 158 Aurenga, Rambaut, 136 Baroque (see architecture) ; sculpture, 213-216 Basset, René, 134 Belenoi, Aimeric, 136, 154 Bélre filed, 132, 164 Bembo, Pietro, 159 Bermudo, Juan, 172-176, 180 Berruguete, Alonso, 216-222, 223, 225, 23eee0/ Biscargui, 174 Boethius, 174 Cabeen, C. W., 156 Cahide, Francisco, 113 Casa, Giovanni, 159 Carmina figurata, 139, 170 Carrillo y Sotomayor, 102-105, 112-113 Cascales, Francisco, 47, 64, 65 Castro, Adolfo, 71, 99-100 Cespedes y Meneses, Gonzalo, 59, 61 Cejador y Frauca, Julio, 27, 52, 70, 93, 101, 138 Chartier, Alain, 156 Cicero, 172 Ciminelli, 159 Concepcion, Juan, 56 Luis, Coronel, Garcia Salcedo, 51, 145 Costanza, Angelo, 159 Coster, Adolphe, 110-111 Crashawe, Richard, 150-151 Daniel, Arnaut, 136-137, 154, 158 Deif, Ahmed, 134 Delrio, Martin, 177 E1 Greco, 236-253 Espinosa, Pedro, 94, 95 Euphuism, 147-152 F euillerat, Albert, 147 Figueroa, Cristébal Suarez, 47 Fitzmaurice-Kelly, James, 27, 29, 56, 62, 68, 86, 123 Fonseca, Cristobal, 113 Frederick II of Sicily, 157 Frexenal, Vasco Diaz, 59, 90- 91, 197 Gavaudan, 163 Gothic (see architecture) Goya, Francisco, 253-254 Grands rhetoriquers, 156 Guevara, Antonio, 152 Harsdérfer, 147 Harvey, Gabriel, 150, 159 Hauvette, Henri, 156 Herrera, Fernando, 99-102, 109- 112 Hoffmannswaldau, Christian, 147 I gnaure, 163 Imr-oul-Qais, 135 Isidore of Seville, 173 best 274 Jauregui y Aguilar, 46-47, 114 Jorge, Ricardo, 238-239 Kiai, 147 Khalifat, 134 Lanson, Gustave, 156 Leon y Mansilla, José, 53, 202, 226 Lobo, Gerardo, 55-56, 202 Lorente, Andrés, 175, 180 Lucan, 117, 138-142 Luna, Joe Fernandez, 207 Lycophron, 144-146 Lyly, John, 147-149, 154 Manuel, Esteban, 48 Manuel, John, 112 - Marcabrun, 136, 163 Marini, Giambattista, 156-157 Marinism, 157-162 Melida, 239-240 Mena, Juan, 86, 87-89, 91, 92, 99, 105, 112, 117, 156, 195 Mengs, Raphael, 253 mies y Pelayo, Marcelino, 19 Moallaquat, 135 Moncayo y Guerra, Juan, 51 Montafiés, 224 Morales, Luis, 232-235 Music, modal concepts in, 171- 173, 175-176, 180-181; nota- tional concepts in, 176-177, 183-184. Mutanabbi, 135 Navarrete y Rivera, Francisco, 60 Nebrija, Elio Antonio, 113 Northup, G.T., 103 Ormstunga, Gunlaug, 131-132 INDEX Orti y Lara, 110 Ovid, 142 Padilla, Juan, 89-90, 197 Palestrina, 179 Paravicino, 28, 43-44, 46, 57, 60 Pellicer y Salas, 143 Pérez, 149 Petrarch, 158 Philip II, 199-201 Plateresque (see architecture) Plato, 172 Pliny, 148 Preciosity, 154-156 Puyol y Alonso, Julio, 91 Quevedo, Francisco, 48-50, 66, | 114 Rambouillet, 152, 154, 156 Retables, 209-210 Riana, Diego, 197 Ribera, Anastasio Pantaledn, 50 Rios, Amador, 138 Roelas, Juan, 19 Rojas, Augustin, 93-94 Rojas, Fernando, 197 Romanesque (see architecture) Ronsard, Pierre, 66, 152-154 Ronsardism, 152-154 Rota, Bernardino, 159 Roxas, Gabriel Fernando, 52 Ruiz, Salcedo, 66, 193 Saavedra y Castillo, Antonio, 253 Salazar y Hontiverso, José, 54 Juan Salazar y Torres, Augustin, 52 Sampere y Miguel, 238 Sanchez, Juan, 197 Sannazaro, 158 Santiago, Francisco Hernando, 113 INDEX Scaldic poetry, 129-132 Serna, Ambrosio, 50 Shakespeare, 150 Silver age, Latin, 138-143 Silvestre, Gregorio, 114-115 Skelton, John, 149, 151 Soto, Luis Barahona, 115 Suffi, 165 Tapia, Martin, 177 Tassis, Juan, 44-46, 50, 51, 53 Tatharya, Ibn, 135 Tebaldeo, 159 Tha’alibi, 135 Thomas, L-P., 71-74, 101-102, 106-110, 112, 117-118, 123-124, 126 Ticknor, George, 27, 51, 59, 118 Tiraboschi, 117 Toledo, Alfonso Martinez, 194 Tolomei, 159 ZFS Tolosa, Raimon, 136 Tomé, Narciso, 211 Torre, Francisco, 51 Trissino, 159 Trobar clus, 136-138, 158, 164, Valera, Juan, 118 Vega, Francisco Pedro, 113 Vega, Garcilasso, 99, 105, 109 Vega, Lope, 95-97 Velasquez, 251-252 Victoria, Tomas Ludovica, 179- 186, 257 Villabrille, Alonso, 227 Villasandino, Alfonso, 65, 86, 91 Vifiaza, Cipriano, 107 Vizina, Martin, 114 Voiture, Vincent, 154, 156 Zurbaran, Francisco, 251, 253 oasny’ ln brusulem bealam i '*, : NN Yi S fy Pircongreyubiinl Eleclos Bue NS & congregubun eclos byus, \\ ft] £: SqUC ad Seaxdecim-, NN ty 4¢ regnebunt, 2 a 2 f i Sacula Swculorum ‘eae i Oreidens 2 LH sual ay - Signum comune it : A : G} y fie = —— ii) } hed) br hee hegno Pi ; Hen Ast ; lenis. hs U x Ma / . AS Mibebul porlus Duodecim: i JUAN BUDO, MUSICAL REBUS 4 ¢¢ in Ascensione Vomin (en ad-lione ena: 1681B) de -ri - um pti - © red - am - ne - Mra re pe - Tam fun We- mo mni- um De- ws Cre-a- tor - iY d Opeva aia Aleuiensi oviet Vu iF: II IN ASCENSIONE DOMINI CLE, ONE DOMINI NSI IN ASCE ll iq =e ad\ at IV IN ASCENSIONE DOMINI tf 1 ie Il in t + ty ang Ale | I anee we p || IN ASCENSIONE DOMINI — f Drawing by Villa Amil. a THE CASA ZAPORTA i et. Terlag. y Hyperion \ Photo b Santiago de Compostella. Li V BGR AGAR, CLOLS ER RSA YT SAN MARTIN PINARIO ( Cathedral, Toledo. Photo by Hyperion Verlag. Vit, HIGH ALTAR, EL TRANSPARENTE Museum of Valladolid. Photo by Hyperion Verlag. 1. ABONSO BERRUGUETE, THE SACRIFICE OF ISAAC BY ABRAHAM Phd Museum of Valladolid. Photo by Orueta. X. fee oo PE RRUGUETE, SAINT JEROME SSOUD AHL WOW LNAOSAG AHL ‘INAL ad Nvoal led *xnvollog onuy Aq o10Ug "BIAOSIG JO [eIPsyIeD re] s Church of San Lorenzo, Seville. Photo by Dieulafoy. XII. MONTANES, CHRIST ets °) Museum of Valladolid. Photo by Dieulafoy. 208 ALONSO VILLABRILLE, THE HEAD OF SAINT PAUL : : ee . a : ‘ s i Dalmay Collection, Barcelona. Courtesy of the Dalmay Collection. K 4 bes nee Toy et Boge at tad Bel oP hs 2) Collection of John Stirling Maxwell, London. Photo, courtesy of the Maxwell Gallery. 5's LUIS DE MORALES, PIETA Ps Mrs. Havemayer,tNew York. Photo by Franz Hanfstaengel. xvi EL GRECO, TOLEDO o * Tie Paris, M. L. Manzi. Photos by Franz ¥ Fol Hanfstaengel. Madrid, Prado Museum. XVII. BL GRECO, SAINT By Shi GRE COs THE MARTIN RESURRECTION i : \ « we Meee 6.2 Toledo, Marques de la Vega Inclan. Sketch by Ricardo Jorge. XVIII. EL GRECO, SAINT SEBASTIAN Colegio de] Palencia, Valencia. Photo by Franz Hanfstaengel. XIX. PPeGkeCO, THE NATIVITY e NOOOOV IN Hie Oo dia ee Bao ‘quoineyT ‘f Aq o104g “‘sueILIO PP ‘YC eULjUT [ep o1vieg ‘epauiviieg op Ivssyueg 2: fe rt) 3 Zuloaga, Paris. Photo by Franz Hanfstaengel. poe, a EeGRECO, THE VISION OF THE APOCALYPSE . + SALVUV ASIA VADOD 1G OOS Ian = Efex oe ‘uuewyonig Aq 0J04g XXIII. brew CISCO DE GOYA; CAPRICHOS Prado Museum, Madrid. Photo by Grote. xX LY. FRANCISCO DE GOYA, SATURN DEVOURING HIS CHILDREN a 6 te RAR ANAAP - oo ee i eer Kal ¢ : ees We oe cP oa = —_ << ore i til * do Y 1 es ats’ " Sess “ a on fale oe FAI Pr _ ce ony ew)