25 Sarmiento has written at sufficient length on the origin of the Castilian romances, but the information he gives is more copious than satisfactory. It would require the most laborious investigation, joined to the highest critical sagacity, to penetrate the obscurity in which this part of the history of literature is involved. How indeed can it be ascertained to what age a ballad belongs, the author of which is unknown, and which, in the progressive improvement of the language and the national taste, has been, without scruple, altered by the singers?

26 These monuments of old Castilian rhyme were little known until rescued from oblivion in 1775 by the publication of D. Thomas Antonio Sanchez’s Coleccion de Poesias Castellanas Anteriores al siglo XV. a work which in respect to philology is certainly very meritorious. The collection, however, appears to terminate with the third volume, (Madrid, 1782), which contains the Poema de Alexandra Magno. The first volume contains the celebrated letter of the Marquis de Santillana on the ancient Spanish poetry, which, for the first time, is printed in that volume, with a commentary by the publisher, full of philological learning.

27 For example, in the following passage which Sarmiento has also quoted; the language, too, differs less from the present Spanish in this, than in many other parts of the work.

28 He states at the beginning of the work the importance he placed on the labour of the rhyme, which he seems to have particularly valued, because he made four lines always rhyme together in succession:—

29

30 Sarmiento and Sanchez may be consulted respecting those enquiries. Some notices on the same topics are also to be found in Velasquez. Had Berceo composed verses on temporal subjects, it is probable that the Spanish writers would not have disputed with so much zeal on the merits of his life. It is curious, that the pious author himself calls his verse prose. The passage runs thus:—

31 Having stated that he learnt his art from an Egyptian, whom he invited from Alexandria, Alphonso adds:—

The chemical prescriptions have a very quaint effect, as delivered in the dancing measure of these verses, viz.

This extract may also serve as an example of the rhythmical facility displayed in the verses of Alphonso.

32 Histoire générale des Troubadours, tom. ii. pag. 255, tom. iii. pag. 329, &c.

33 Sarmiento refers the oldest Castilian romances to the thirteenth century, but only hypothetically, and with the explicit declaration, that certainly none were to be found in the form in which they then existed. Respecting the Nicolas and the Antonio de los Romances, see the notes of Dieze on Velasquez, p. 146.

34 See the Bibliotheca Hispana Vetus of Nicolas Antonio, under the head of Alphonso XI. and Sarmiento, p. 305.

35 A sensible and well digested biography of this prince, by Gonzalo de Argote y Molina, a writer of the sixteenth century, is prefixed to El Conde Lucanor, the first edition of which Argote superintended. The work is not easily procured even in Spain. No es de los mas communes, says Sarmiento. In the library of the university of Göttingen there is a copy of the edition: Madrid, 1642, 4to.

36

37

38

39

40

41 As this work is as scarce as it is curious, to extract the whole of the first tale will perhaps be agreeable to the reader. Fablava un dia el Conde Lucanor con Patronio su Consejero, en esta manera. Patronio, vos sabedes que yo soy muy caçador, y he fecho muchas caças nuevas, que nunca fizo otro ome, y aun he fecho y añadido en los capillos y en las piguelas algunas cosas muy aprovechosas, que nunca fueron fechas, y aora los que quieren dezir mal de mi fablan en escarnio en alguna manera, y quando loan al Cid Ruydias, o al Conde Ferrand Gonzalez, de quantas lides que fizieron, o al santo y bienaventurado Rey don Ferrando, quantas buenas conquistas fizo, loan a mi, diziendo que fiz muy buen fecho, porque añadi aquello en los capillos y en las piguelas. Y porque yo entiendo, que este alabamiento mas se me torna en denuesto, que en alabamiento, ruego vos que me a consejedes en que manera faré, porque no me escarnezcan por la buena obra que fiz. Señor Conde, dixo Patronio, para que vos sepades lo que vos cumple de fazer en esto, plazeme ya que sopiessedes lo que contescio a un moro, que fue Rey de Cordova. El Conde la preguntó como fuera aquello; Patronio le dixo assi.

Huvo en Cordova un Rey Moro, que huvo nombre Alhaquime, y como quier que mantenia bien assaz su Reyno, no se trabajó de fazer otra cosa honrada, nin de gran fama, de las que suelen y deven fazer los Reyes. Ca non tan solamente son los Reyes tenudos de guardar sus Reynos, mas los que buenos quieren ser, conviene que tales obras fagan, porque con derecho acrecienten sus Reynos, y fagan en guisa, que en su vida sean muy mas loados de las gentes, y despues de su muerte finqueen buenas fazañas de las obras que ellos ovieren fecho. E este Rey non se trabajava de esto, si non de comer, y de folgar, y de estar en su casa vicioso; y acaescio, que estando un dia que tañian ante el un estormento de que se pagavan mucho los moros, que há nombre Albogon, e el Rey paró mientes, y entendio que non fazia tan buen son como era menester, y tomó el Albogon, y añadio en el un forado a la parte de yuso, en derecho de los otros forados, y dende en adelante fazia el Albogon muy mejor son que fasta entonces fazia. E comoquiera que aquello era bien fecho para en aquella cosa, pero que non era tan gran fecho como convenia de fazer al Rey. E las gentes en manera de escarnio començaron a loar aquel fecho, y dezian quando llamavan a alguno en Arabigo, Vahedezut Alhaquime, que quiere dezir: este es el añadimiento del Rey Alhaquime. Esta palabra fue sonada tanto por la tierra, fasta que lo ovo de oir el Rey, y preguntó, porque dezian las gentes aqueste palabra. E conaquier que ge lo quisieran negar y encubrir, tanto los afincó, que ge lo ovieron a dezir. E desque esto oyó tomó ende gran peçar, pero como era muy buen Rey, non quiso fazer mal a los que dezian aquesta palabra, mas puso en su coraçon de facer otro añadimiento, de que por fuerza oviessen las gentes a loar el su fecho. E entonce porque la su mezquita de Cordova non era acabada, añadio en ella aquel Rey toda la labor que hi menguava, y acabóla. Y esto fue la mejor, y mas complida, y mas noble mesquita que los moros avian en España. E loado Dios es aora Iglesia, y llamanla Santa Maria de Cordova, y ofresciola el santo Rey don Fernando a Santa Maria quando ganó a Cordova de los Moros. E desque aquel Rey ovo acabado la mesquita, y fecho aquel tan buen añadimiento, dixo, que pues fasta entonces lo avian a escarnio, retrayendole del añadimiento que fiziera en el Albogon, que tenia que de alli adelante le avrian a loar con razon del añadimiento que fiziera en la mezquita de Cordova, y fue despues muy loado: y el loamiento que fasta entonces le fazian escarnesciendole, fincò despues por loa, y oy dia dizen los Moros quando quieren loar algun buen hecho:—Este es el añadimiento del Rey Alhaquime. E vos, Señor Conde, si tomades pesar, o cuidades que vos loan por escarnescer del añadimiento, que fezistes en los capillos, y en las piguelas, y en las otras cosas de caça que vos fezistes, guisad de fazer algunos fechos granados e nobles que les pertenesce de facer a los grandes omes. E por fuerça las gentes avran de loar los vuestros buenos fechos, assi como loan aora por escarnio en el añadimiento que fezistes de la caça. E el Conde tovo este por buen consejo y fizolo assí, e fallose dello muy bien. E porque don Juan entendio que esta era buen exemplo, fizolo escrivir en este libro, y fizo estos versos, que dizen assi:

42 Thus in the first stories the old word ome stands for hombre; but in those towards the end of the collection it is changed to hombre.

43 Argote y Molina enumerates the prose works of this prince in the before-mentioned biography. He notices the poems in an appendix to his edition of El Conde Lucanor, entitled Discurso sobre la poesia Española. Though the appendix occupies only a few pages, it contains many interesting observations.

44 The following romance, which is inserted without interpunctuation, as it appears in the original, may serve for a specimen of those to which the name of Don Juan Manuel is attached. It is certainly not the worst of its kind; and must have found its way by some lucky accident into the Cancionero general, which contains scarcely any narrative romances. It is also found in another Cancionero de Romances, under the title of Romance de Don Juan Manuel.

All the songs attributed to Don Juan Manuel in the Cancionera have a form and structure, which render it probable that they belong to the age in which El Conde Lucanor was written; one, for example, begins thus:

Another which belongs to the class, called Villancios possesses more poetical merit. It commences thus:—

45 Sarmiento only briefly notices this arch-priest, and Nicolas Antonio has entirely overlooked him. But Velasquez pays particular attention to him, and gives a long extract from his work.

46 As a specimen by which justice will be done the author, it is sufficient to quote the following passage, which is printed by Velasquez. Don Amor says:—

47 The celebrated letter of the Marquis de Santillana, which must be more particularly noticed hereafter, contributes its part in illustrating the history of this period. Much however is not to be learned from the letter itself. The commentary on it by Sanchez, in the first volume of the before-mentioned Coleccion, is far more instructive.

48 Whoever wishes to become acquainted with the controversies on the early literature of knight-errantry, should resort to Nicolas Antonio, and compare what he says with Eichhorn’s learned view of the subject, including the necessary references, in his Allg. Gesch. der Cult. u. Litt. Theil I. p. 136, &c. Nunez de Liaõ, in his Origem de Lingoa Portugueza, also mentions Lobeira as the author of Amadis de Gaul.

49 The merit of the Amadis was not overlooked by Cervantes. In the judgment passed on Don Quixote’s library, the Curate wishes to condemn this work first of all to the flames, because, being the parent of all the books of knight-errantry in Spain, it was therefore the great cause of Don Quixote’s malady; but the Barber, or rather Cervantes, speaking in that character, says, “No, friend; for I have heard it remarked that the Amadis is the best book of the kind ever written; it ought therefore to be spared as a peculiar specimen of art.” Whoever may be desirous of making the Amadis re-appear in a state capable of being relished in the present times, must, above all things, take care to preserve the ingenuous simplicity of the stile, or the work will be wholly disfigured.

50 The titles of all the collections of romances need not be given here. A considerable part of them may be found in Velasquez, with additions by Dieze, (p. 442, &c.) and Blankenburg’s Zusätzen zu Sulzer’s Wörterbuche. I have before me several collections, which contain some of the oldest romances I am acquainted with. The best of these collections is entitled: Cancionero de Romances, en que estan recopilados la mayor parte de los Romances Castellanos, que hasta agora se han compuesto. Nuevamento corregido y añadido en muchos partes. Anvers 1555, 8vo. In the well known Romancero general none of the pieces which derive their materials from knight-errantry romances are to be found.

51 The following romance, derived from that work, gives an artless description of the sufferings of Amadis on the barren rock.

52 According to Sarmiento (p. 228,) it is usual to say, Este no vale las coplas de Calainos. But it is not therefore to be inferred, that the ancient romance of that name is the worst of the kind.

53 It will be sufficient to cite, in support of this opinion, the romance of the Conde Alarcos, which is, besides, distinguished from most of the other romances by greater richness of composition. It opens in a very simple manner with a description of the sorrow of the Infante Solesa, who, after being secretly betrothed to Count Alarcos, has been abandoned by him.

At length, after Count Alarcos has been long married, the forsaken princess discloses her seduction to her father. This scene is strongly painted, but not overcharged: the king is transported by rage and indignation; his honour appears to him so wounded, that nothing but the death of the Countess can be a sufficient satisfaction. He has an interview with the Count, addresses him courteously, represents the case to him with chivalrous dignity as a point of justice and honour, and concludes by categorically demanding the death of his lady. Thus the developement of the story commences in a manner, which, though most singular, is perhaps not unnatural, when the ideas of the age to which the composition belongs are considered. The Count conceives himself bound as a man of honour to give the king the satisfaction he desires. He promises to comply with his demand, and proceeds on his way home. There is a touching simplicity in the picture which is here drawn.

The pathetic interest now rises gradually to the highest pitch of tragic horror. The Countess, who receives her husband with the wonted marks of affection, in vain enquires the cause of his melancholy. He sits down to supper with his family, and again we have a situation painted with genuine feeling, though with little art.

The apparent fatigue of the Count induces the Countess to accompany him to his apartment. When they enter, the Count fastens the door, relates what has passed, and desires his lady to prepare for death.

She begs him to spare her only for her children’s sake. The Count desires her to embrace for the last time the youngest, whom she has brought with her into the room asleep in her arms.

She submits to her hard fate, and only asks for time to say an ave maria. The Count desires her to be quick. She falls on her knees, and pours forth a brief but fervent prayer; she then requests a few moments more delay, that she may once more give suck to her infant son. What modern poet would have thought of introducing so exquisite a touch of nature? The Count forbids her to wake the child. The unfortunate lady forgives her husband, but predicts that, within thirty days, the king and his daughter will be summoned before the tribunal of the Almighty. The Count strangles her.

In the conclusion, the fulfilment of the unfortunate Countess’s prophecy is briefly related. On the twelfth day the princess died, on the twentieth the king, and on the thirtieth the Count himself expired.

54 Those in the Cancionero de Romances are of this kind. (See the remark, p. 35.)

55 Sarmiento counted one hundred and two romances relative to the Cid, in one collection. Only some of them are inserted in the Romancero general, interspersed among others.

56 In the following romance, for instance, the assonance is very skilfully managed.

57 Of this kind is the following romance, in which the Cid takes leave of Ximena. It is obviously one of the more modern.

58 A zealous orthodox author speaks with much warmth on this subject in a romance which commences, “Tanta Zayda, y Adalifa.” Among other things he says:

59

60

61 This is one of the best pieces of the kind.

The concluding line:—Castellano a las derechas, (the Castilian as he ought to be) is a description of the Cid, which was well adapted to produce an impression on the hearts of the people to whom it was addressed.