El Estudiante de Salamanca and Other Selections

THE WORKS OF ESPRONCEDA

Of all the Spanish poets of the period of Romanticism, Espronceda is the most commanding figure. Piñeyro, adopting Emerson's phrase, calls him the Representative Man of that age of literary and political revolt. More than that, criticism is unanimous in considering him Spain's greatest lyric poet of the nineteenth century.

First of all he interests as the poet of democracy. The Romantic poets were no more zealous seekers for political liberalism than the classic poets of the previous generation had been; but their greater subjectivity and freedom of expression rendered their appeal more vigorous. Espronceda's hatred for absolutism was so intense that in moments of excitement he became almost anti-social. The pirate, the beggar, the Cossack, were his heroes. The love of this dandy for the lower classes cannot be dismissed as mere pose. He keenly sympathized with the oppressed, and felt that wholesale destruction must precede the work of construction. We look in vain for a reasoned political philosophy in his volcanic verse. His outpourings were inspired by the irresponsible ravings of groups of café radicals, and the point of view constantly changed as public sentiment veered. According to his lights he is always a patriot. Liberty and democracy are his chief desires.

Like most Romanticists, Espronceda was intensely subjective. He interests by his frank display of his inner moods. Bonilla, in his illuminating article "El Pensamiento de Espronceda," states that the four essential points in the philosophy of Romanticism were: doubt, the first principle of thought; sorrow, the positive reality of life; pleasure, the world's illusion; death, the negation of the will to live. Espronceda shared all of these ideas. It is often impossible to say how much of his suffering is a mere Byronic pose, and how much comes from the reaction of an intensely sensitive nature to the hard facts of existence. There is evidence that he never lost the zest of living; but in his writings he appears as one who has been completely disillusionized by literature, love, politics, and every experience of life. Truth is the greatest of evils, because truth is always sad; "mentira," on the other hand, is merciful and kind. He carries doubt so far that he doubts his very doubts. Such a philosophy should logically lead to quietism. That pessimism did not in the case of Espronceda bring inaction makes one suspect that it was largely affected. There is nothing profound in this very commonplace philosophy of despair. It is the conventional attitude of hosts of Romanticists who did little but re-echo the Vanitas vanitatum of the author of Ecclesiastes. Espronceda's thought is too shallow to entitle him to rank high as a philosophic poet. In this respect he is inferior even to Campoamor and Núñez de Arce. Genuine world-weariness is the outgrowth of a more complex civilization than that of Spain. Far from being a Leopardi, Espronceda may nevertheless be considered the leading Spanish exponent of the taedium vitae. He has eloquently expressed this commonplace and conventional attitude of mind.

Like so many other writers of the Latin race, Espronceda is more admirable for the form in which he clothed his thoughts than for those thoughts themselves. He wrote little and carefully. He is remarkable for his virtuosity, his harmonious handling of the most varied meters. He never, like Zorrilla, produces the effect of careless improvisation. In the matter of poetic form Espronceda has been the chief inspiration of Spanish poets down to the advent of Rubén Darío. Fitzmaurice-Kelly, with his happy knack of hitting off an author's characteristics in a phrase, says: "He still stirs us with his elemental force, his resonant musical potency of phrase, his communicative ardor for noble causes."

Much harm has been done Espronceda's reputation for originality by those critics who fastened upon him the name of "the Spanish Byron." Nothing could be more unjust than to consider him the slavish imitator of a single author. In literature, as in love, there is safety in numbers, and the writer who was influenced by Calderón, Tasso, Milton, Goethe, Béranger, Hugo, Shakespeare, and Scott was no mere satellite to Byron. Señor Cascales is so sensitive on the point that he is scarcely willing to admit that Byron exerted any influence whatsoever upon Espronceda. The truth is that Byron did influence Espronceda profoundly, as Churchman has sufficiently proved by citing many instances of borrowings from the English poet, where resemblance in matters of detail is wholly conclusive; but it is another matter to assert that Espronceda was always Byronic or had no originality of his own.

In considering Espronceda's writings in detail, we need concern ourselves little with his dramatic and prose writings. The quickest road to literary celebrity was the writing of a successful play. Espronceda seems never to have completely relinquished the hope of achieving such a success. His first attempt was a three-act verse comedy, "Ni el Tío ni el Sobrino" (1834), written in collaboration with Antonio Ros de Olano. Larra censured it for its insipidity and lack of plan. A more ambitious effort was "Amor venga sus agravios" (1838), written in collaboration with Eugenio Moreno López. This was a five-act costume play, in prose, portraying the life at the court of Philip IV. It was produced without regard to expense, but with indifferent success. Espronceda's most ambitious play was never staged, and has only recently become easily accessible: this was "Blanca de Borbón," a historical drama of the times of Peter the Cruel in five acts, in verse. The first two acts were written in Espronceda's early Classic manner; the last three, written at a later period, are Romantic in tone. The influence of "Macbeth" is apparent. "Blanca de Borbón" could never be a success on the stage. The verse, too, is not worthy of the author. Espronceda was too impetuous a writer to comply with the restrictions of dramatic technique. The dramatic passages in "El Estudiante de Salamanca" and "El Diablo Mundo" are his best compositions in dialogue.

"Sancho Saldaña" is Espronceda's most important prose work. It is a historical novel of the thirteenth century, written frankly in imitation of Walter Scott's Waverley Novels. The romance contains many tiresome descriptions of scenery, and drags along tediously as most old-fashioned novels did. But Espronceda had none of Sir Walter's archaeological erudition, none of his ability to seize the characteristics of an epoch, and above all none of his skill as a creator of interesting characters. The personages in "Sancho Saldaña" fail to interest. The most that can be said of the work is that among the numerous imitations of Scott's novels which appeared at the time it is neither the best nor the worst. Of his shorter prose works only two, "De Gibraltar a Lisboa, viaje histórico" and "Un Recuerdo," are easily accessible. They are vivid portrayals of certain episodes of his exile, and may still be read with interest. His most important polemical work is "El Ministerio Mendizábal" (Madrid, 1836). In this screed we find the fiery radical attacking as unsatisfactory the ultra-liberal Mendizábal. This and shorter political articles interest the historian and the biographer, but hardly count as literature. His rare attempts at literary criticism have even less value.

Espronceda shows true greatness only as a lyric poet. For spirit and perfection of form what could be more perfect than the "Canción del Pirata"? Like Byron in the "Corsair," he extols the lawless liberty of the buccaneer. Byron was here his inspiration rather than Hugo. The "Chanson de Pirates" cannot stand comparison with either work. But Espronceda's indebtedness to Byron was in this case very slight. He has made the theme completely his own. "El Mendigo" and "El Canto del Cosaco," both anarchistic in sentiment, were inspired by Béranger. Once more Espronceda has improved upon his models, "Les Gueux" and "Le Chant du Cosaque." Compare Espronceda's refrain in the "Cossack Song" with Béranger's in the work which suggested it:

The "Canto del Cosaco" was a prime favorite with the revolutionary youth of Spain, who thundered out the "hurras" with telling effect. "El Reo de Muerte" and "El Verdugo" are in a similar vein, though much inferior. "Serenata," "A la Noche," "El Pescador" (reminiscent of Goethe), "A una Estrella," and "A una Rosa, soneto" are lighter works. They make up in grace what they lack in vigor. "El Himno al Sol" is the most perfect example of Espronceda's Classic manner, and is rightly considered one of his masterpieces. It challenges comparison with the Duque de Rivas' very similar poem. Of the numerous patriotic poems "Al Dos de Mayo" and "A la Patria" deserve especial mention. He attempted satire in "El Pastor Clasiquino," recently reprinted by Le Gentil from "El Artista." In this poem he assails academic poetry like that produced by his old fellow-academicians of the Myrtle. It betrays the peevishness of a Romanticist writing when Romanticism was already on the wane.

"El Diablo Mundo," Espronceda's most ambitious work, is commonly considered his masterpiece; an unfinished masterpiece, however. Even if death had spared him, it is doubtful if he could have finished so all-embracing a theme as he proposed:

Adam, hero of the epic, is introduced in Canto I as an aged scholar disillusioned with life, but dreading the proximity of Death, with whom he converses in a vision. The Goddess of Life grants him the youth of Faust and the immortality of the Wandering Jew. Unlike either, he has the physical and mental characteristics of an adult joined to the naïveté of a child. In Canto III Adam appears in a casa de huéspedes, naked and poor, oblivious of the past, without the use of language, with longings for liberty and action. Here his disillusionment begins. His nakedness shocks public morality; and the innocent Adam who is hostile to nobody, and in whom the brilliant spectacle of nature produces nothing but rejoicing, receives blows, stonings, and imprisonment from his neighbors. Childlike he touches the bayonet of one of his captors, and is wounded. This symbolizes the world's hostility to the innocent. In Canto IV we find Adam in prison. His teachers are criminals. He was born for good; society instructs him in evil. In Canto V he experiences love with the manola Salada, but sees in this passion nothing but impurity. He longs for higher things. Circumstances abase him to crime. He joins a band of burglars, and, falling in love with the lady whose house they are pillaging, protects her against the gang. In Canto VI he continues along his path of sorrow. He enters a house where a beautiful girl is dying, while in another room revelers are making merry. This leads him to speculate on life's mysteries and to reason for himself. The poem ends where Adam has become thoroughly sophisticated. He is now like any other man.

Evidently it was the poet's intention to make Adam go through a series of adventures in various walks of life, everywhere experiencing disillusionment. In spite of the elaborate prospectus quoted above, we may agree with Piñeyro that the poet started writing with only the haziest outline planned beforehand. Espronceda frankly reveals to us his methods of poetic composition:

And again:

"El Diablo Mundo" is no mere imitation of Byron's "Don Juan" and Goethe's "Faust," though the influence of each is marked. It has numerous merits and originalities of its own. Inferior as Espronceda is to Byron in wit and to Goethe in depth, he can vie with either as a harmonious versifier.

The philosophy of "El Diablo Mundo" is the commonplace pessimism of Romanticism. The following excerpt shows how the author's skepticism leads him to doubt his very doubts; hence his return to a questioning acceptance of Christianity:

Canto II of "El Diablo Mundo" consists of the poem "A Teresa. Descansa en Paz." This has not the slightest connection with the rest of the poem, and can only be understood as a separate unity. It is included in the present collection because it is the supreme expression of our poet's subjective method. As such it stands in excellent contrast to "El Estudiante de Salamanca," which is purely objective. No reader knows Espronceda who has read merely his objective poems. For self-revelation "A Jarifa en una Orgía" alone may be compared with "A Teresa." We may agree with Escosura that Espronceda is here giving vent to his rancor rather than to his grief, that it is the menos hidalgo of all his writings. But for once we may be sure that the poet is writing under the stress of genuine emotion. For once he is free from posing.

"THE STUDENT OF SALAMANCA"

"El Estudiante de Salamanca" represents the synthesis of two well-known Spanish legends, the Don Juan Tenorio legend and the Miguel Mañara legend. The first of these may be briefly stated as follows: Don Juan Tenorio was a young aristocrat of Seville famous for his dissolute life, a gambler, blasphemer, duelist, and seducer of women. Among numerous other victims, he deceives Doña Ana de Ulloa, daughter of the Comendador de Ulloa. The latter challenges Don Juan to a duel, and falls. Later Don Juan enters the church where the Commander lies buried and insults his stone statue, after which he invites the statue to sup with him that night. At midnight Don Juan and his friends are making merry when a knock is heard at the door and the stone guest enters. Don Juan, who does not lose his bravery even in the presence of the supernatural, plays the host, maintaining his air of insulting banter. At the end of the evening the guest departs, offering to repay the hospitality the following night if Don Juan will visit his tomb at midnight. Though friends try to dissuade him, Don Juan fearlessly accepts the invitation. At the appointed hour he visits the tomb. Flames emerge from it, and Don Juan pays the penalty of his misdeeds, dying without confession.

This is the outline of the story as told by Tirso de Molina in "El Burlador de Sevilla o el Convidado de Piedra." The same theme has been treated by Molière, Goldoni, Mozart, Byron, and Zorrilla, to mention but a few of the hundreds of writers who have utilized it. In the hands of non-Spanish writers the character of Don Juan loses the greater part of its essential nobility. To them Don Juan is the type of libertine and little more. He was a prime favorite with those Romanticists who, like Gautier, felt "Il est indécent et mauvais ton d'être vertueux." But as conceived in Spain Don Juan's libertinage is wholly subsidiary and incidental. He is a superman whose soaring ambition mounts so high that earth cannot satisfy it. The bravest may be permitted to falter in the presence of the supernatural; but Don Juan fears neither heaven nor hell. His bravery transcends all known standards, and this one virtue, though it does not save him from hell, redeems him in popular esteem.

Don Félix de Montemar is the typical Don Juan type, a libertine, gambler, blasphemer, heartless seducer, but superhumanly brave. Yet the plot of Espronceda's poem bears closer resemblance to the story told of Miguel Mañara.

Miguel Mañara (often erroneously spelled Maraña) Vicentelo de Leca (1626-1679) was an alderman (veintecuatro) of Seville and a knight of Calatrava. As a youth his character resembled that of Don Juan. One day some hams sent to him from the country were intercepted by the customs. He started out to punish the offending officers, but on the way repented and thenceforth led a virtuous life. In 1661, after his wife's death, he entered the Hermandad de la Caridad, later becoming superior of that order. In his will he endowed the brotherhood with all his wealth and requested that he be buried under the threshold of the chapel of San Jorge. His sole epitaph was to be "Here repose the bones and ashes of the worst man who ever existed in the world." Don Miguel's biography was written by his friend the Jesuit Juan de Cardeñas and was added to by Diego López de Haro, "Breve relación de la muerte, de la vida y virtudes de Don Miguel de Mañara," Seville, 1680.

There soon sprang up a legend around the name of Mañara. He is said to have fallen in love with the statue on the Giralda tower. On one occasion the devil gave him a light for his cigar, reaching across the Guadalquivir to do so. Again, he pursued a woman into the very cathedral, forcibly pulled aside her mantilla and discovered a skeleton. Yet more surprising, he was present, when still alive, at his own funeral in the Church of Santiago. But these stories associated with the name of Mañara are much older than he. Antonio de Torquemada, "Jardín de Flores Curiosas," Salamanca, 1570, tells of an unnamed knight who fell in love with a nun. He enters her convent with false keys only to find a funeral in progress. On inquiring the name of the deceased, he is told that it is himself. He then runs home pursued by two devils in the form of dogs who tear him to pieces after he has made pious repentance. Cristóbal Bravo turned this story into verse, Toledo, 1572. One or other of these versions appears to have been the source of Zorrilla's "El Capitán Montoya." Gaspar Cristóbal Lozano, "Soledades de la Vida y Desengaños del Mundo" (Madrid, 1663), tells the same story, and is the first to name hero and heroine, Lisardo and Teodora. Lozano, too, is the first to make the male protagonist a Salamanca student. Lozano's version inspired two ballads entitled "Lisardo el Estudiante de Córdova." These were reprinted by Durán, Romancero general, Vol. I, pp. 264-268, where they are readily accessible.

This ballad of Lisardo the Student of Cordova was undoubtedly Espronceda's main source in writing "The Student of Salamanca," and to it he refers in line 2 with the words antiguas historias cuentan. Yet the indebtedness was small. Espronceda took from the ballad merely the idea of making the hero of the adventure a Salamanca student, and the episode of a man witnessing his own funeral. Needless to say Espronceda's finished versification owed nothing to the halting meter of the original. Lisardo, a Salamanca student, though a native of Cordova, falls in love with Teodora, sister of a friend, Claudio. Teodora is soon to become a nun. One night he makes love to her and is only mildly rebuked. But a ghostly swordsman warns him that he will be slain if he does not desist. Nevertheless he continues his wooing in spite of the fact that Teodora has become a nun. She agrees to elope. While on his way to the convent to carry out this design, his attention is attracted by a group of men attacking an individual. This individual proves to be himself, Lisardo. Lisardo, then, witnesses his own murder and subsequent funeral obsequies. This warning is too terrible not to heed. He gives over his attempt at seduction and leads an exemplary life.

There are many other examples in the literature of Spain of the man who sees his own funeral. Essentially the same story is told by Lope de Vega, "El Vaso de Elección. San Pablo." Bévotte thinks that Mérimée in "Les Ames du purgatoire" was the first to combine the Don Juan and the Miguel de Mañara legends, so closely alike in spirit, into a single work. But Said Armesto finds this fusion already accomplished in a seventeenth-century play, "El Niño Diablo." Dumas owed much to Mérimée in writing his allegorical play "Don Juan de Maraña," first acted April 30, 1836. This became immediately popular in Spain. A mutilated Spanish version appeared, Tarragona, 1838, Imprenta de Chuliá. It is doubtful whether Espronceda owes anything to either of these French works, although both works contain gambling scenes very similar to that in which Don Félix de Montemar intervened. In the Dumas play Don Juan stakes his mistress in a game, as Don Félix did his mistress's portrait. It seems likely that Espronceda derived his whole inspiration for this scene from Moreto's "San Franco de Sena," which he quotes.

The legend of the man who sees his own funeral belongs to the realm of folk-lore. Like superstitions are to be found wherever the Celtic race has settled. In Spain they are especially prevalent in Galicia and Asturias. There the estantigua or "ancient enemy" appears to those soon to die. These spirits, or almas en pena, appear wearing winding-sheets, bearing candles, a cross, and a bier on which a corpse is lying. Don Quijote in attacking the funeral procession probably thought he had to do with the estantigua. Furthermore, Said Armesto in his illuminating study "La Leyenda de Don Juan" proves that the custom of saying requiem masses for the living was very ancient in Spain. One recalls, too, how Charles V in his retirement at Yuste rehearsed his own funeral, actually entering the coffin while mass was being said.

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

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

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

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

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

NOTES ON ESPRONCEDA'S
VERSIFICATION

GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS

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

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

SYLLABLE-COUNTING

FINAL SYLLABLES

When a verse is stressed on the final syllable, it is called a verso agudo or masculine verse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DIPHTHONGIZATION

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

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

SYNERESIS

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

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

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

Examples of syneresis after the tonic stress:

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

Examples of syneresis before the tonic stress:

Examples of syneresis under stress:

In the first two examples there is no stress-shift. In the third, the stress travels from the o of Ahora to the initial a. In the following example ahora has three syllables:

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

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

In the poetry of the Middle Ages and Renaissance such pronunciations as teniá for tenía are common.

DIERESIS

Dieresis is the breaking up of vowel-combinations in such a way as to form an additional syllable in the word. It is the opposite of syneresis. Dieresis never occurs in the case of the diphthongs ie and ue derived from Latin (e), and (o), in words like tierra, bueno, etc. Uá and uó are regularly dissyllabic except after c, g, and j. Examples:

The same word without dieresis:

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

SYNALEPHA

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

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

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

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

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

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

(He is without stress in the group.)

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

The following are disagreeably harsh:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HIATUS

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

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