to Portugal, and he consequently took more personal interest in the tragical fate of his heroine, than was felt by Spaniards in general. He did not commence his task without apprehension of its success; for, as a Spaniard, he wished to write in Castilian, and he was, therefore, in some measure, under the necessity of studying a foreign language. This difficulty he mentions in his preface. But with all its faults, his attempt proved so fortunate, that his two tragedies may justly be styled the first in their kind. Though they are intimately connected, yet each forms in itself a complete tragic drama. Their titles are whimsical and affected: the first is denominated, Nise Lastimosa, (the Lamentable Nise); and the second, Nise Laureada, (Nise Crowned with Glory).298 The characters preserve their historical names. The first of these tragedies sufficiently proves what may be effected by a poet, even of moderate talent, when thoroughly penetrated with a poetic subject, and at the same time possessing the power of expression. The Nise Lastimosa, it is true, is far from approaching the ideal of tragic perfection; but some of the scenes fulfil all that the theory of the dramatic art can require; and energy and dignity of expression are not wanting even in those passages where the action is tedious and the incidents ill-connected. The plot is simple, and towards the conclusion its interest declines. But Bermudez has introduced, with alternate instances of remarkable dexterity and clumsiness, a chorus composed of Coimbran women, which is sometimes interwoven with the action of the drama, and sometimes quite independent of it. The unities of time and place the author has totally disregarded. The first act opens with a soliloquy by the Prince Don Pedro, which is beautiful, though somewhat too long. In it the prince deplores his separation from his beloved wife.299 This soliloquy is succeeded by a long conversation between the prince and his secretary, in which the latter, with all due courtesy, hints that the attachment of the prince for a lady, not of royal birth, is incompatible with the welfare of the state.300 The scene then changes, and the chorus of Coimbran women is very absurdly introduced to moralize on love. Thus closes the first act. In the second, the scene changes to the court, and exhibits the king amidst his assembled council; the advice of the ministers prevails over the good disposition of the monarch, and he consents to the death of Ines de Castro. A soliloquy by the king follows, in which he offers up his prayers. The scene again changes, and the fair Coimbrans once more appear to moralize on human happiness. In the third act, however, a new spirit is infused into the piece, and the chorus partakes in the action. Ines de Castro appears. The women of the chorus form her attendants, and offer her consolation and advice. Ines is informed of the reports that are circulated respecting her fate;301 but throughout this act, the progress of the story is nearly suspended. The fourth act may, however, be accounted almost a masterpiece. Ines attended by her children and the chorus, appears before the king to receive her sentence. Nothing can be more impressive than the dignity with which she demands justice, or more affecting than the tenderness towards her children, which continually breaks forth in her discourse; at length she pictures to herself in vivid colours, the sorrows that await her husband, till exhausted by the vehemence of her feelings, and gradually losing the use of her faculties, she begins for the first time to think of her own situation, anticipates the horrors of death, and swoons, exclaiming Jesus Maria! This scene exhibits a picture so replete with real pathos, that it may be truly said, modern tragic art has seldom attained so high a point of perfection.302 The fifth act is merely a tedious supplement. The prince is made acquainted with the death of his wife, and he vents his sorrow in long lamentations.
The tragedy of Nise Laureada is far inferior to that just described. The story is below criticism; and towards the end becomes revolting to feelings, which are not blunted by inquisitorial horrors, or sunk to the level of brutality. The Prince Don Pedro who has now ascended the throne, orders the remains of his judicially murdered wife to be taken from the tomb; he then, with great solemnity, invests the corpse with the dignity of queen, and the ceremony of the coronation is succeeded by a marriage. Two of the counsellors, whose perverted and inhuman patriotism had urged them to sacrifice the unhappy Ines, receive sentence of death and are executed. This is the whole plot, if so it may be called; and among the acting and speaking characters the executioners play a prominent part. The first act contains many beautiful passages; but when the last judicial ceremonies commence, horror and disgust fill the mind of the reader. The hearts of both culprits are extracted from their bodies, the one through the breast, and the other through the back. The most brutal exclamations accompany the execution of the royal sentence, and the chorus utters shouts of joy, while the executioner discharges his barbarous task. That these horrors might be regarded as pathetic incidents by the Spaniards of that age, accustomed as they were from early childhood to stifle every sentiment of humanity, and to allow fanatical exultation to overcome the natural emotions of the heart, whenever a brutal sentence was pronounced by ecclesiastical, or royal authority, is unfortunately but too probable. Had it not been for this perversion of feeling, a people, otherwise so noble-minded, could not have attended the cruel festivals of their church, and witnessed the burning of Jews and heretics with as much pleasure as the exhibition of a bull fight.
In order to form a just estimate of the talent of Bermudez, it must be recollected that he was the first who conceived the idea of giving a poetic colouring to the history of Ines de Castro. Camoens had not, at that time, written his Lusiad, in which the same story forms the subject of a celebrated episode. It may also be observed, that the labour which Bermudez bestowed on his versification, and particularly on the varied metres of the choruses of his dramas, ought to have served as an example to his successors in tragic composition.
HISTORY OF SPANISH PROSE DURING THE FIRST HALF AND TEN SUCCEEDING YEARS OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
Among the works of the poets which come within the period allotted to the first section of this book, it has already been necessary to notice some writings in prose. The connexion then subsisting between Spanish poetry and prose, has thus been rendered more apparent, and the different works of the same author have been kept together in examining them. But the poetic talent of some authors of that age, for example, Perez de Oliva, will not bear a comparison with their merits as prose writers; and many others who have obtained reputation for prose composition, must be totally excluded from the rank of poets. In general the good sense of the Spanish writers has constantly impelled them to mark a distinct boundary between poetry and prose; and this separation was never more rigorously maintained than during the first half of the sixteenth century, when the torrent of romances of chivalry which then inundated Spain, threatened the common annihilation of genuine poetry and eloquent prose. As very little has hitherto been done in this department of literature, advantage cannot fail to be derived from the labour which may be employed in endeavouring to obtain something like an accurate introduction to the knowledge of several good Spanish prose writers, whose names have hitherto scarcely appeared in the history of modern literature.
Every one who has read Don Quixote must be aware of the enthusiasm with which romances of chivalry were admired by the Spaniards, at the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth century. In the reign of Charles V. this passion became epidemic; for then the art of printing gave general circulation to the old romances, and new imitations were not wanting. But the particular account of this portion of Spanish literature, does not belong to the present subject, and ought to form the conclusion of the history of the romantic literature of the middle ages. Besides, the influence of the chivalrous romances of the sixteenth century, operated on the public only in a peculiar sense of the term, for every poet and prose writer, of cultivated talent, laboured to oppose the contagion. There were, however, many literary partizans, who did not scruple to flatter the public taste by the grossest absurdities. A writer, named Geronymo de Sanpedro, with the most devout piety, selected stories from the bible, and clothed them, as he expresses himself, in the allegoric costume of romance. He entitled his fantastical work, “The Book of Celestial Chivalry from the Foot of the Fragrant Rose-bush.303” God the Father is introduced in this edifying production as emperor, and Christ as the knight of the Lion, (Caballero del Leon). In the meantime an opponent of the zealots of chivalry, named Doctor Alexio de Venegas, anathematized all romances, which he styled, “Devil’s Sermon Books,” (Sermonarios de Satanas).304 In this manner parties contended one with another in Spain, until at length the romantic literature