The history of Spanish poetry continues barren of names until towards the end of the fourteenth century; and yet, according to all literary probability, the greater part of the ancient Castilian romances, which have, in the progress of time, been collected, and have undergone more or less improvement, were composed at a much earlier period. One Nicolas, and an abbot named Antonio, are mentioned as celebrated writers of romances in the thirteenth century, anterior to the reign of Alphonso X.33 But until the period of the invention of printing, no regard was paid by the learned, or by those who wished to be considered learned, to popular ballads; and when the attention of men of letters began at last to be directed to the old romances, the authors were either forgotten, or no trouble was taken to preserve or recover their names. With a view, therefore, to the convenience of historical arrangement, a particular account of the ancient romance poetry of Castile may, with propriety, be postponed until the period when the first instance of literary publicity, which was given to it, must be recorded. In the mean while, some little known, though not unimportant memorials of the state of poetical and rhetorical culture in the fourteenth century, may here be brought to recollection.
ALPHONSO XI.
That the example of Alphonso X. operated powerfully among the grandees of Castile, cannot be doubted; and to its influence must, in a great measure, be attributed the encouragement given to the cultivation of knowledge by Alphonso XI. This prince, amidst all the troubles of his busy reign, maintained the character of a protector of learning, and endeavoured to distinguish himself as a writer in his native tongue. In the accounts of his labours given by Spanish authors, he is stated to have composed a General Chronicle in Redondillas,34 which is either lost, or still remains buried in some of the old archives of Spain. However slight may be the merits of this work, in a poetical point of view, it is rendered interesting by the circumstance, that the king chose for the rhythmic structure of his narrative, the easy flowing verse of the romances, instead of stiff monkish alexandrines, and the ungraceful dactylic stanzas. This brought the redondillas more into favour. Alphonso XI. also caused books to be written in Castilian prose, among which were a kind of Peerage, or Register of the noble families of Castile, with an account of their hereditary estates and possessions, and a Hunting Book, (Libro de Monteria,) in the composition of which several persons assisted. Though rhetorical art might derive no advantage from these books, they contributed to give consideration to the national dialect, and to incite persons of rank to engage in literary labour.
EARLY CULTIVATION OF CASTILIAN PROSE—DON JUAN MANUEL; HIS CONDE LUCANOR; HIS ROMANCES.
But the most valuable monument of the cultivation of Spanish eloquence in the fourteenth century is El Conde Lucanor, a book of moral and political maxims, written by Don Juan Manuel, a Castilian prince. This Don Juan was one of the most distinguished men of his age.35 He was descended, in a collateral line with the reigning family of Castile, from king Ferdinand III. usually called the Saint. He served his sovereign Alphonso XI. with chivalrous fidelity, and by the judicious policy of his conduct, retained the favour of that prince, who certainly had reason to regard him with jealousy. After distinguishing himself by a number of honourable and gallant deeds, Alphonso appointed him governor (adelantado mayor) of the country bordering on the Moorish kingdom of Grenada. In this station he became the terror of the hereditary enemy of Castile. He made an irruption into Grenada, and defeated the Moorish king in a great battle. After this brilliant victory, he always acted one of the first parts in the internal troubles of Castile, and during twenty years conducted the war against the Moors. He died in 1362, leaving behind him some of the ripest fruits of his experience in his Count Lucanor. A Spanish book, so full of sound practical good sense, of a character so truly unostentatious, and clothed in a simple, homely, but far from inanimate garb, could scarcely be expected to belong to the fourteenth century. In estimating the merit of this work, it ought also to be recollected, that at the period in which it appeared, the taste for the wild tales of chivalry called romances had begun to prevail. Amadis de Gaul, the prototype of all subsequent knight-errantry romances, had then obtained general circulation. There is, however, in the Count Lucanor, no trace of romantic extravagance, none of the dreaming flights of an irregular imagination; for in every passage of the book the author shews himself a man of the world and an observer of human nature. In the course of his long experience he had formed maxims for the conduct of life which he was desirous of pursuing. He gave to many of these axioms a laconic expression in verse; and, to impress them the more forcibly, invented his Count Lucanor, a prince conscious of too limited an understanding to trust to his own judgment in cases of difficulty. He gives the Count a minister (consejero), whose wisdom fortunately supplies the deficiency of his master’s intellect. When the Count asks advice of his minister, the latter relates a story, or sometimes a fable. The application comes at the close, and the narrative is the commentary of the verse or couplet with which it terminates. In this manner forty-nine moral and political tales are told. They are not of equal merit; but though some are inferior to others, the difference is not great, and they have all the same rhetorical form. Sometimes it is the idea that gives the chief interest, sometimes the execution. Among the versified maxims are the following.
“If you have done something good in little, do it also in great, as the good will never die.”36
“He who advises you to be reserved to your friends, wishes to betray you without witnesses.”37
“Hazard not your wealth on a poor man’s advice.”38
“He who has got a good seat should not leave it.”39
“He who praises you for what you have not, wishes to take from you what you have.”40
This last axiom is deduced from the well-known fable of the fox and the raven. It is curious to observe the resemblance between the unconscious artless simplicity with which Don Juan Manuel relates his fable, and the finely-studied simplicity with which the elegant La Fontaine tells the same story. Who would expect to find in an old Spanish book of the fourteenth century,