PERIOD THIRD.

LITERATURE OF THE AGE OF THE REVOLUTION AND OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY (1700-1885).

1. THE DAWN OF SKEPTICISM.—In the age just past we have seen religion, antiquity, and the monarchy of Louis XIV., each exercising a distinct and powerful influence over the buoyancy of French genius, which cheerfully submitted to their restraining power. A school of taste and elegance had been formed, under these circumstances, which gave law to the rest of Europe and constituted France the leading spirit of the age. On the other hand, the dominant influences of the eighteenth century were a skeptical philosophy, a preference for modern literature, and a rage for political reform. The transition, however, was not sudden nor immediate, and we come now to the consideration of those works which occupy the midway position between the submissive age of Louis XIV. and the daring infidelity and republicanism of the eighteenth century.

The eighteenth century began with the first timid protestation against the splendid monarchy of Louis XIV., the domination of the Catholic Church, and the classical authority of antiquity, and it ended when words came to deeds, in the sanguinary revolution of 1789. When the first generation of great men who sunned themselves in the glance of Louis XIV. had passed away, there were none to succeed them; the glory of the monarch began to fade as the noble cortege disappeared, and admiration and enthusiasm were no more. The new generation, which had not shared the glory and prosperity of the old monarch, was not subjugated by the recollections of his early splendor, and was not, like the preceding, proud to wear his yoke. A certain indifference to principle began to prevail; men ventured to doubt opinions once unquestioned; the habit of jesting with everything and unblushing cynicism appeared almost under the eyes of the aged Louis; even Massillon, who exhorted the people to obedience, at the same time reminded the king that it was necessary to merit it by respecting their rights. The Protestants, exiled by the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, revenged themselves by pamphlets against the monarch and the church, and these works found their way into France, and fostered there the rising discontent and contempt for the authority of the government.

Among these refugees was Bayle (1647-1706), the coolest and boldest of doubters. He wrote openly against the intolerance of Louis XIV., and he affords the first announcement of the characteristics of the century. His "Historical and Critical Dictionary," a vast magazine of knowledge and incredulity, was calculated to supersede the necessity of study to a lively and thoughtless age. His skepticism is learned and philosophical, and he ridicules those who reject without examination still more than those who believe with docile credulity. Jean Baptiste Rousseau (1670- 1741), the lyric poet of this age, displayed in his odes considerable energy, and a kind of pompous harmony, which no other had imparted to the language, yet he fails to excite the sympathy. In his writings we find that free commingling of licentious morals with a taste for religious sublimities which characterized the last years of Louis XIV. The Abbe Chaulieu (1639-1720) earned the appellation of the Anacreon of the Temple, but he did not, like Rousseau, prostitute poetry in strains of low debauchery.

The tragedians followed in the footsteps of Racine with more or less success, and comedy continued, with some vigor, to represent the corrupt manners of the age. Le Sage (1668-1747) applied his talent to romance; and, like Moliere, appreciated human folly without analyzing it. "Gil Blas" is a picture of the human heart under the aspect at once of the vicious and the ridiculous.

Fontenelle (1657-1757), a nephew of the great Corneille, is regarded as the link between the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, he having witnessed the splendor of the best days of Louis XIV., and lived long enough to see the greatest men of the eighteenth century. He made his debut in tragedy, in which, however, he found little encouragement. In his "Plurality of Worlds," and "Dialogues of the Dead," there is much that indicates the man of science. His other works are valued rather for their delicacy and impartiality than for striking originality.

Lamotte (1672-1731) was more distinguished in criticism than in any other sphere of authorship. He raised the standard of revolt against the worship of antiquity, and would have dethroned poetry itself on the ground of its inutility. Thus skepticism began by making established literary doctrines matters of doubt and controversy. Before attacking more serious creeds it fastened on literary ones.

Such is the picture presented by the earlier part of the eighteenth century. Part of the generation had remained attached to the traditions of the great age. Others opened the path into which the whole country was about to throw itself. The faith of the nation in its political institutions, its religious and literary creed, was shaken to its foundation; the positive and palpable began to engross every interest hitherto occupied by the ideal; and this disposition, so favorable to the cultivation of science, brought with it a universal spirit of criticism. The habit of reflecting was generally diffused, people were not afraid to exercise their own judgment, every man had begun to have a higher estimate of his own opinions, and to care less for those hitherto received as undoubted authority. Still, literature had not taken any positive direction, nor had there yet appeared men of sufficiently powerful genius to give it a decisive impulse.

2. PROGRESS OF SKEPTICISM.—The first powerful attack on the manners, institutions, and establishments of France, and indeed of Europe in general, is that contained in the "Persian Letters" of the Baron de Montesquieu (1689-1755); in which, under the transparent veil of pleasantries aimed at the Moslem religion, he sought to consign to ridicule the belief in every species of dogma. But the celebrity of Montesquieu is founded on his "Spirit of Laws," the greatest monument of human genius in the eighteenth century. It is a profound analysis of law in its relation with government, customs, climate, religion, and commerce. The book is inspired with a spirit of justice and humanity; but it places the mind too much under the dominion of matter, and argues for necessity rather than liberty, thus depriving moral obligation of much of its absolute character. It is an extraordinary specimen of argument, terseness, and erudition.

The maturity of the eighteenth century is found in Voltaire (1694-1778); he was the personification of its rashness, its zeal, its derision, its ardor, and its universality. In him nature had, so to speak, identified the individual with the nation, bestowing on him a character in the highest degree elastic, having lively sensibility but no depth of passion, little system of principle or conduct, but that promptitude of self- direction which supplies its place, a quickness of perception amounting almost to intuition, and an unexampled degree of activity, by which he was in some sort many men at once. No writer, even in the eighteenth century, knew so many things or treated so many subjects. That which was the ruin of some minds was the strength of his. Rich in diversified talent and in the gifts of fortune, he proceeded to the conquest of his age with the combined power of the highest endowments under the most favorable circumstances. He was driven again and again, as a moral pest, from the capital of France by the powers that fain would have preserved the people from his opinions, yet ever gaining ground, his wit always welcome, and his opinions gradually prevailing, one audacious sentiment after another broached, and branded with infamy, yet secretly entertained, till the futile struggle was at length given in, and the nation, as with one voice, avowed itself his disciple.

It has been said that Voltaire showed symptoms of infidelity from infancy. When at college he gave way to sallies of wit, mirth, and profanity which astonished his companions and terrified his preceptors. He was twice imprisoned in the Bastile, and many times obliged to fly from the country. In England he became acquainted with Bolingbroke and all the most distinguished men of the time, and in the school of English philosophy he learned to use argument, as well as ridicule, in his war with religion. In 1740 we find him assisting Frederick the Great to get up a refutation of Machiavelli; again, he is appointed historiographer of France, Gentleman of the Bed-chamber, and Member of the Academy; then he accepts an invitation to reside at the Court of Prussia, where he soon quarrels with the king. After many vicissitudes he finally purchased the estate of Ferney, near the Lake of Geneva, where he resided during the rest of his days. From this retreat he poured out an exhaustless variety of books, which were extensively circulated and eagerly perused. He had the admiration of all the wits and philosophers of Europe, and included among his pupils and correspondents some of the greatest sovereigns of the age. At the age of eighty-four he again visited Paris. Here his levees were more crowded than those of any emperor; princes and peers thronged his ante-chamber, and when he rode through the streets a train attended him which stretched far over the city. He was made president of the Academy, and crowned with laurel at the theatre, where his bust was placed on the stage and adorned with palms and garlands. He died soon after, without the rites of the church, and was interred secretly at a Benedictine abbey.

The national enthusiasm which decreed Voltaire, as he descended to the tomb, such a triumph as might have honored a benefactor of the race, gave place to doubt and disputation as to his merits. In tragedy he is admitted to rank after Corneille and Racine; in "Zaire," which is his masterpiece, there is neither the lofty conception of the one, nor the perfect versification of the other, but there is a warmth of passion, an enthusiasm of feeling, and a gracefulness of expression which fascinate and subdue. As an epic poet he has least sustained his renown; though the "Henriade" has unquestionably some great beauties, its machinery is tame, and the want of poetic illusion is severely felt. His poetry, especially that of his later years, is by no means so disgraceful to the author as the witticisms in prose, the tales, dialogues, romances, and pasquinades which were eagerly sought for and readily furnished, and which are, with little exception, totally unworthy of an honorable man. As a historian, Voltaire lacked reflection and patience for investigation. His "History of Charles XII.," however, was deservedly successful; the reason being that he chose for his hero the most romantic and adventurous of sovereigns, to describe whom there was more need of rapid narrative and brilliant coloring than of profound knowledge and a just appreciation of human nature. In his history of the age of Louis XIV., Voltaire sought not only to present a picture, but a series of researches destined to instruct the memory and exercise the judgment. The English historians, imitating his mode, have surpassed him in erudition and philosophic impartiality. Still later, his own countrymen have carried this species of writing to a high degree of perfection. Throughout the "Essay on the Manners of Nations" we find traces of that hatred of religion which he openly cherished in the latter part of his life. The style, however, is pleasing, the facts well arranged, and the portraits traced with originality and vivacity.

Some have attributed to Voltaire the serious design of overturning the three great bases of society, religion, morality, and civil government, but he had not the genius of a philosopher, and there is no system of philosophy in his works. That he had a design to amuse and influence his age, and to avenge himself on his enemies, is obvious enough. Envy and hatred employed against him the weapons of religion, hence he viewed it only as an instrument of persecution. His great powers of mind were continually directed by the opinions of the times, and the desire of popularity was his ruling motive. The character of his earlier writings shows that he did not bring into the world a very independent spirit; they display the lightness and frivolity of the time with the submission of a courtier for every kind of authority, but as his success increased everything encouraged him to imbue his works with that spirit which found so general a welcome. In vain the authority of the civil government endeavored to arrest the impulse which was gaining strength from day to day; in vain this director of the public mind was imprisoned and exiled; the farther he advanced in his career and the more audaciously he propagated his views on religion and government, the more he was rewarded with the renown which he sought. Monarchs became his friends and his flatterers; opposition only increased his energy, and made him often forget moderation and good taste.

3. FRENCH LITERATURE DURING THE REVOLUTION.—The names of Voltaire and Montesquieu eclipse all others in the first half of the eighteenth century, but the influence of Voltaire was by far the most immediate and extensive. After he had reached the zenith of his glory, about the middle of the century, there appeared in France a display of various talent, evoked by his example and trained by his instructions, yet boasting an independent existence. In the works of these men was consummated the literary revolution of which we have marked the beginnings, a revolution more striking than any other ever witnessed in the same space of time. It was no longer a few eminent men that surrendered themselves boldly to the skeptical philosophy which is the grand characteristic of the eighteenth century; writers of inferior note followed in the same path; the new opinions took entire possession of all literature and cooperated with the state of the morals and the government to bring about a fearful revolution. The whole strength of the literature of this age being directed towards the subversion of the national institutions and religion, formed a homogeneous body of science, literature, and the arts, and a compact phalanx of all writers under the common name of philosophers. Women had their share in the maintenance of this league; the salons of Mesdames du Deffand (1696-1780), Geoffrin (b. 1777), and De l'Espinasse (1732-1776) were its favorite resorts; but the great rendezvous was that of the Baron d'Holbach, whence its doctrines spread far and wide, blasting, like a malaria, whatever it met with on its way that had any connection with religion, morals, or venerable social customs. Besides Voltaire, who presided over this coterie, at least in spirit, the daily company included Diderot, an enthusiast by nature and a cynic and sophist by profession; D'Alembert, a genius of the first order in mathematics, though less distinguished in literature; the malicious Marmontel, the philosopher Helvetius, the Abbe Raynal, the furious enemy of all modern institutions; the would-be sentimentalist Grimm, and D'Holbach himself. Hume, Gibbon, Bolingbroke, and others were affiliated members. Their plan was to write a book which would in some sense supersede all others, itself forming a library containing the most recent discoveries in philosophy, and the best explanations and details on every topic, literary and scientific.

The project of this great enterprise of an Encyclopaedia as an immense vehicle for the development of the opinions of the philosophers, alarmed the government, and the parliament and the clergy pronounced its condemnation. The philosophy of Descartes and the eminent thinkers of the seventeenth century assumed the soul of man as the starting-point in the investigation of physical science. The men of the eighteenth century had become tired of following out the sublimities and abstractions of the Cartesians, and they took the opposite course; beginning from sensation, they did not stop short of the grossest materialism and positive atheism.

Such were the principles of the Encyclopaedia, more fully developed and explained in the writings of Condillac (1715-1780), the head of this school of philosophy. His first work, "On the Origin of Human Knowledge," contains the germ of all that he afterwards published. In his "Treatise on Sensation," he endeavored, but in vain, to derive the notion of duty from sensation, and expert as he was in logic, he could not conceal the great gulf which his theory left between these two terms. Few writers have enjoyed more success; he brought the science of thought within the reach of the vulgar by stripping it of everything elevated, and every one was surprised and delighted to find that philosophy was so easy a thing. Having determined not to establish morality on any innate principles of the soul, these philosophers founded it on the fact common to all animated nature, the feeling of self-interest. Already deism had rejected the evidence of a divine revelation. Now atheism raised a more audacious front, and proclaimed that all religious sentiment was but the reverie of a disordered mind. The works in which this opinion is most expressly announced, date from the period of the Encyclopaedia.

D'Alembert (1717-1773) is now chiefly known as the author of the preliminary discourse of the Encyclopaedia, which is ranked among the principal works of the age.

Diderot (1714-1784), had he devoted himself to any one sphere, instead of wandering about in the chaos of opinions which rose and perished around him, might have left a lasting reputation, and posterity, instead of merely repeating his name, would have spoken of his works. He may be regarded as a writer injurious at once to literature and to morals.

The most faithful disciple of the philosophy of this period was Helvetius (1715-1771), known chiefly by his work, "On the Mind," the object of which is to prove that physical sensibility is the origin of all our thoughts. Of all the writers who maintained this opinion, none have represented it in so gross a manner. His work was condemned by the Sorbonne, the pope, and the parliament; it was burned by the hand of the hangman, and the author was compelled to retract it.

Jean Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778) was a writer who marched under none of the recognized banners of the day. The Encyclopaedists had flattered themselves that they had tuned the opinion of all Europe to their philosophical strain, when suddenly they heard his discordant note. Without family, without friends, without home, wandering from place to place, from one condition in life to another, he conceived a species of revolt against society, and a feeling of bitterness against those civil organizations in which he could never find a suitable place. He combated the atheism of the Encyclopaedists, their materialism and contempt for moral virtue, for pure deism was his creed. He believed in a Supreme Being, a future state, and the excellence of virtue, but denying all revealed religion, he would have men advance in the paths of virtue, freely and proudly, from love of virtue itself, and not from any sense of duty or obligation. In the "Social Contract" he traced the principles of government and laws in the nature of man, and endeavored to show the end which they proposed to themselves by living in communities, and the best means of attaining this end.

The two most notable works of Rousseau are "Julie," or the "Nouvelle Heloise," and "Emile." The former is a kind of romance, owing its interest mainly to development of character, and not to incident or plot. Emile embodies a system of education in which the author's thoughts are digested and arranged. He gives himself an imaginary pupil, the representative of that life of spontaneous development which was the writer's ideal. In this work there is an episode, the "Savoyard Vicar's Confession of Faith," which is a declaration of pure deism, leveled especially against the errors of Catholicism. It raised a perfect tempest against the author from every quarter. The council of Geneva caused his book to be burned by the executioner, and the parliament of Paris threatened him with imprisonment. Under these circumstances he wrote his "Confessions," which he believed would vindicate him before the world. The reader, who may expect to find this book abounding with at least as much virtue as a man may possess without Christian principle, will find in it not a single feature of greatness; it is a proclamation of disagreeable faults; and yet he would persuade us that he was virtuous, by giving the clearest proofs that he was not.

To the names of Montesquieu, Voltaire, and Rousseau, must be added that of Buffon (1707-1788), and we have the four writers of this age who left all their contemporaries far behind. Buffon having been appointed superintendent of the Jardin des Plantes, and having enriched this fine establishment, and gathered into it, from all parts of the world, various productions of nature, conceived the project of composing a natural history, which should embrace the whole immensity of being, animate and inanimate. He first laid down the theory of the earth, then treated the natural history of man, afterwards that of viviparous quadrupeds and birds. The first volumes of his work appeared in 1749; the most important of the supplementary matter which followed was the "Epochs of Nature." He gave incredible attention to his style, and is one of the most brilliant writers of the eighteenth century. No naturalist has ever equaled him in the magnificence of his theories, or the animation of his descriptions of the manners and habits of animals. It is said that he wrote the "Epochs of Nature" eleven times over. He not only recited his compositions aloud, in order to judge of the rhythm and cadence, but he made a point of being in full dress before he sat down to write, believing that the splendor of his habiliments impressed his language with that pomp and elegance which he so much admired, and which is his distinguishing characteristic. Buffon, while maintaining friendship with the celebrated men of his age, did not identify himself with the party of the encyclopaedists, or the sects into which they were divided. But he lived among men who deemed physical nature alone worthy of study, and the wits of the age who had succeeded in discovering how a Supreme Being might be dispensed with. Buffon evaded the subject entirely, and amid all his lofty soarings showed no disposition to rise to the Great First Cause. After his time, science lost its contemplative and poetical character, and acquired that of intelligent observation. It became a practical thing, and entered into close alliance with the arts. The arts and sciences, thus combined, became the glory of France, as literature had been in the preceding age.

The declining years of Voltaire and Rousseau witnessed no rising genius of similar power, but some authors of a secondary rank deserve notice. Marmontel (1728-1799) is distinguished as the writer of "Belisarius," a philosophical romance, "Moral Tales," and "Elements of Literature." He endeavors to lead his readers to the enjoyments of literature, instead of detaining them with frigid criticisms.

La Harpe (1739-1803) displayed great eloquence in literary criticism, and some of his works maintain their place, though they have little claim to originality.

Many writers devoted themselves to history, but the spirit of French philosophy was uncongenial to this species of composition, and the age does not afford one remarkable historian. The fame of the Abbe Raynal (1718-1796) rests chiefly on his "History of the Two Indies." It is difficult to conceive how a sober man could have arrived at such delirium of opinion, and how he could so complacently exhibit principles which tended to overthrow the whole system of society. Scarcely a crime was committed during the revolution, with which this century closes, but could find its advocate in this declaimer. When, however, Raynal found himself in the midst of the turmoils he had suggested, he behaved with justice, moderation, and courage; thus proving that his opinions were not the result of experience.

The days of true religious eloquence were past; faith was extinct among the greater part of the community, and cold and timid among the rest. Preachers, in deference to their audience, kept out of view whatever was purely religious, and enlarged on those topics which coincided with mere human morality. Religion was introduced only as an accessory which it was necessary to disguise skillfully, in order to escape derision. Genuine pulpit eloquence was out of the question under these circumstances.

Forensic eloquence had been improving in simplicity and seriousness since the commencement of the eighteenth century, and men of the law were now led by the circumstances of the times to trace out universal principles, rather than to discuss isolated facts. The eloquence of the bar thus acquired more extensive influence; the measures of the government converted it into a hostile power, and it furnished itself with weapons of reason and erudition which had not been thought of before.

We come now close upon the epoch when the national spirit was no longer to be traced in books, but in actions. The reign of Louis XV. had been marked with general disorder, and while he was sinking into the grave, amid the scorn of the people, the magistrates were punished for opposing the royal authority, and the public were indignant at the arbitrary proceeding. Beaumarchais (1732-1799) became the organ of this feeling, and his memoirs, like his comedies, are replete with enthusiasm, cynicism, and buffoonery. Literature was never so popular; it was regarded as the universal and powerful instrument which it behooved every man to possess. All grades of society were filled with authors and philosophers; the public mind was tending towards some change, without knowing what it would have; from the monarch on the throne to the lowest of the people, all perceived the utter discordance that prevailed between existing opinions and existing institutions.

In the midst of the dull murmur which announced the approaching storm, literature, as though its work of agitation had been completed, took up the shepherd's reed for public amusement. "Posterity would scarcely believe," says an eminent historian, "that 'Paul and Virginia' and the 'Indian Cottage' were composed at this juncture by Bernardin de St, Pierre, (1737-1814), as also the 'Fables of Florian' which are the only ones that have been considered readable since those of La Fontaine." About the same time appeared the "Voyage of Anacharsis," in which the Abbe Barthelemy (1716-1795) embodied his erudition in an attractive form, presenting a lively picture of Greece in the time of Pericles.

Among the more moral writers of this age was Necker (1732-1804), the financial minister of Louis XVI., who maintained the cause of religion against the torrent of public opinion in works distinguished for delicacy and elevation, seriousness and elegance.

When the storm at length burst, the country was exposed to every kind of revolutionary tyranny. The first actors in the work of destruction were, for the most part, actuated by good intentions; but these were soon superseded by men of a lower class, envious of all distinctions of rank and deeply imbued with the spirit of the philosophers. Some derived, from the writings of Rousseau, a hatred of everything above them; others had taken from Mably his admiration of the ancient republics of Greece and Rome, and would reproduce them in France; others had borrowed from Raynal the revolutionary torch which he had lighted for the destruction of all institutions; others, educated in the atheistic fanaticism of Diderot, trembled with rage at the very name of a priest or religion; and thus the Revolution was gradually handed over to the guidance of passion and personal interest.

In hurrying past these years of anarchy and bloodshed, we cast a glance upon the poet, Andre Chenier (1762-1794), who dared to write against the excesses of his countrymen, in consequence of which he was cited before the revolutionary tribunal, condemned, and executed.

4. FRENCH LITERATURE UNDER THE EMPIRE.—Napoleon, on the establishment of the empire, gave great encouragement to the arts, but none to literature. Books were in little request; old editions were sold for a fraction of their original price; but new works were dear, because the demand for them was so limited. When literature again lifted its head, it appeared that in the chaos of events a new order of thought had been generated. The feelings of the people were for the freer forms of modern literature, introduced by Madame de Stael and Chateaubriand, rather than the ancient classics and the French models of the seventeenth century.

Madame de Stael (1766-1817) has been pronounced by the general voice to be among the greatest of all female authors. She was early introduced to the society of the cleverest men in Paris, with whom her father's house was a favorite resort; and before she was twelve years of age, such men as Raynal, Marmontel, and Grimm used to converse with her as though she were twenty, calling out her ready eloquence, inquiring into her studies, and recommending new books. She thus imbibed a taste for society and distinction, and for bearing her part in the brilliant conversation of the salon. At the age of twenty she became the wife of the Baron de Stael, the Swedish minister at Paris. On her return, after the Reign of Terror, Madame de Stael became the centre of a political society, and her drawing- rooms were the resort of distinguished foreigners, ambassadors, and authors. On the accession of Napoleon, a mutual hostility arose between him and this celebrated woman, which ended in her banishment and the suppression of her works.

"The Six Years of Exile" is the most simple and interesting of her productions. Her "Considerations on the French Revolution" is the most valuable of her political articles. Among her works of fiction, "Corinne" and "Delphine" have had the highest popularity. But of all her writings, that on "Germany" is considered worthy of the highest rank, and it was calculated to influence most beneficially the literature of her country, by opening to the rising generation of France unknown treasures of literature and philosophy. Writers like Delavigne, Lamartine, Beranger, De Vigny, and Victor Hugo, though in no respect imitators of Madame de Stael, are probably much indebted to her for the stimulus to originality which her writings afforded.

Another female author, who lived, like Madame de Stael through the Revolution, and exercised an influence on public events, was Madame de Genlis (1746-1830). Her works, which extend to at least eighty volumes, are chiefly educational treatises, moral tales, and historical romances. Her political power depended rather on her private influence in the Orleans family than upon her pen.

Chateaubriand (1769-1848) must be placed side by side with Madame de Stael, as another of those brilliant and versatile geniuses who have dazzled the eyes of their countrymen, and exerted a permanent influence on French literature. While the eighteenth century had used against religion all the weapons of ridicule, he defended it by poetry and romance. Christianity he considered the most poetical of all religions, the most attractive, the most fertile in literary, social, and artistic results, and he develops his theme with every advantage of language and style in the "Genius of Christianity" and the "Martyrs." Some of the characteristics of Chateaubriand, however, have produced a seriously injurious effect on French literature, and of these the most contagious and corrupting is his passion for the glitter of words and the pageantry of high-sounding phrases.

The salutary reaction against skepticism, produced in literature by Madame de Stael and Chateaubriand was carried into philosophy by Maine de Biran (1766-1824), and more particularly by Royer-Collard (1763-1846) who took a decided stand against the school of Condillac and the materialists of the eighteenth century. Royer-Collard restored its spiritual character to the science of the human mind, by introducing into it the psychological discoveries of the Scotch school. Benjamin Constant (1767-1830) infused into political science a spirit of freedom before quite unknown. In his works he attempted to limit the authority of the government, to build up society on personal freedom, and on the guaranties of individual right. His writings combine extraordinary power of logic with great variety and beauty of style.

Proceeding in another direction, Bonald (1753-1846) opposed the spirit of the French Revolution, by establishing the authority of the church as the only criterion of truth and morality. As Rousseau had placed sovereign power in the will of the people, Bonald placed it in that of God, as it is manifested to man through language and revelation, and of this revelation he regarded the Catholic church as the interpreter. He develops his doctrines in numerous works, especially in his "Primitive Legislation," which is characterized by boldness, dogmatism, sophistry in argument, and by severity and purity of style.

The peculiarities of Bonald were carried still farther by De Maistre (1755-1852), whose hatred of the Revolution led him into the system of an absolute theocracy, such as was dreamed of by Gregory VII. and Innocent III.

5. FRENCH LITERATURE FROM THE RESTORATION TO THE PRESENT TIME.—The influences already spoken of, in connection with the literary progress which began in Germany and England towards the close of the eighteenth century, produced in the beginning of the nineteenth century a revival in French literature; but the conflict of opinions, the immense number of authors, and their extraordinary fecundity, render it difficult to examine or classify them. We first notice the great advances in history and biography. Among the earlier specimens may be mentioned the voluminous works of Sismondi and the "Biographie Universelle," in fifty-two closely printed volumes, the most valuable body of biography that any modern literature can boast. Since 1830, historians and literary critics have occupied the foreground in French literature. The historians have divided themselves into two schools, the descriptive and the philosophical. With the one class history consists of a narration of facts in connection with a picture of manners, bringing scenes of the past vividly before the mind of the reader, leaving him to deduce general truths from the particular ones brought before him. The style of these writers is simple and manly, and no opinions of their own shine through their statements. The chief representatives of this class, who regard Sir Walter Scott as their master, are Thierry, Villemain, Barante, and in historical sketches and novels, Dumas and De Vigny.

The philosophical school, on the other hand, consider this scenic narrative more suitable to romance than to history; they seek in the events of the past the chain of causes and effects in order to arrive at general conclusions which may direct the conduct of men in the future. At the head of this school is Guizot (1787-1876), who has developed his historical views in his essays on the "History of France," and more particularly in his "History of European Civilization," in which he points out the origin of modern civilization, and follows the progress of the human mind from the fall of the Roman Empire. The philosophical historians have been again divided according to their different theories, but the most eminent of them are those whom Chateaubriand calls fatalists; men who, having surveyed the course of public events, have come to the conclusion that individual character has had little influence on the political destinies of mankind, that there is a general and inevitable series of events which regularly succeed each other with the certainty of cause and effect, and that it is as easy to trace it as it is impossible to resist or divert it from its course. A tendency to these views is visible in almost every French historian and philosopher of the present time. The philosophy of history thus grounded has, in their hands, assumed the aspect of a science.

HISTORY.—Among the celebrated writers who have combined the philosophical and narrative styles are the brothers Amadee and Augustine Thierry (1787- 1873), (1795-1856), who produced a "History of the Gauls," of "The Norman Conquest," and other excellent works; Sismondi (1773-1842), whose history of the "Italian Republics" and of the "French People" are characterized by immense erudition; Thiers (1797-1877), whose clearness of style is combined with comprehensiveness and eloquence; Mignet (1796-1884), celebrated for his history of the French Revolution. The voluminous "History of France," by Henri Martin (1810-1884), is perhaps the best and most important work treating the whole subject in detail.

The downfall of the July Monarchy brought forth works of importance on this subject, the most noted of which are those by Lamartine, Michelet, and Louis Blanc. Lamartine's "History of the Girondins" was written from a constitutional and republican point of view, and was not without influence in producing the Revolution of 1848, but it is the work of an orator and poet rather than that of a historian. The historical and political works of Michelet (1778-1873) are of a more original character; his imaginative powers are of the highest order, and his style is striking and picturesque. The work of Louis Blanc (1813-1883) is that of a sincere and ardent republican, and is useful from that point of view, as is that of Quinet (1803-1875). Lanfrey places the character of Napoleon in a new and far from favorable light. Taine, so distinguished in literary criticism, has discussed elaborately the causes of the Revolution.

POETRY AND THE DRAMA; RISE OF THE ROMANTIC SCHOOL.—During the Middle Ages men of letters followed each other in the cultivation of certain literary forms, often with little regard to their adaptation to the subject. The vast extension of thought and knowledge in the sixteenth century broke up the old forms and introduced the practice of treating each subject in a manner more or less appropriate to it. The seventeenth and eighteenth centuries witnessed a return to the observance of arbitrary rules, though the evil effects were somewhat counterbalanced by the enlargement of thought and the increasing knowledge of other literature, ancient and modern. The great Romantic movement, which began in the second quarter of the nineteenth century, repeated on a larger scale the movement of the sixteenth to break up and discard many stiff and useless literary forms, to give strength and variety to such as were retained, and to enrich the language by new inventions and revivals. The supporters of this reform long maintained an animated controversy with the adherents of the classical school, and it was only after several years that the younger combatants came out victorious. The objects of the school were so violently opposed that the king was petitioned to forbid the admission of any Romantic drama at the Theatre Francais, the petitioners asserting that the object of their adversaries was to burn everything that had been adored and to adore everything that had been burned. The representation of Victor Hugo's "Hernani" was the culmination of the struggle, and since that time all the greatest men of letters in France have been on the innovating side. In belles-lettres and history the result has been most remarkable. Obsolete rules which had so long regulated the French stage have been abolished; poetry not dramatic has been revived; prose romance and literary criticism have been brought to a degree of perfection previously unknown; and in history more various and remarkable works have been produced than ever before, while the modern French language, if it lacks the precision and elegance to which from 1680 to 1800 all else had been sacrificed, has become a much more suitable instrument for the accurate and copious treatment of scientific subjects. At the time of the accession of Charles X. (1824), the only writers of eminence were Beranger (1780-1857), Lamartine (1790-1869), and Lamennais (1782-1854), and they mark the transition between the old and new. Beranger was the poet of the people; most of his earlier compositions were political, extolling the greatness of the fallen empire or bewailing the low state of France under the restored dynasty. They were received with enthusiasm and sung from one end of the country to the other. His later songs exhibit a not unpleasing change from the audacious and too often licentious tone of his earlier days. In the hands of Lamartine the language, softened and harmonized, loses that clear epigrammatic expression which, before him, had appeared inseparable from French poetry. His works are pervaded by an earnest religious feeling and a rare delicacy of expression. "Jocelyn," a romance in verse, the "Meditations," and "Harmonies" are among his best works.

Victor Hugo (b. 1800) at the age of twenty-five was the acknowledged master in poetry as in the drama, and this position he still holds. In him all the Romantic characteristics are expressed and embodied,—disregard of arbitrary rules, free choice of subjects, variety and vigor of metre, and beauty of diction. His poetical influence has been represented in three different schools, corresponding in point of time with the first outburst of the movement, a brief period of reaction, and the closing years of the second empire. Of the first, Theophile Gautier (1811-1872) was the most distinguished member. The next generation produced those remarkable poets, Theodore de Banville (b. 1820), who composed a large amount of verse faultless in form and exquisite in shade and color, but so neutral in tone that it has found few admirers, and Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867), who offends by the choice of unpopular subjects and the terrible truth of his analysis.

The poems of De Vigny are sweet and elegant, though somewhat lacking in the energy belonging to lyric composition. Those of Alfred de Musset (1800-1857) are among the finest in the language.

The Gascon poet Jasmin has produced a good deal of verse in the western dialect of the Langue d'oc, and recently a more cultivated and literary school of poets has arisen in Provence, the chief of whom is Mistral.

The effect of the Romantic movement on the drama has been the introduction of a species of play called the drame, as opposed to regular comedy and tragedy, and admitting of freer treatment. Victor Hugo, Alexandre Dumas (1803-1874), Victorien Sardou (b. 1831), Alexandre Dumas fils (b. 1821), Legouve (b. 1807), Scribe (1791-1861), Octave Feuillet (b. 1812), have produced works of this class.

The literature of France during the last generation has been prolific in dramas and romances, all of which indicate a chaos of opinion. It is not professedly infidel, like that of the eighteenth century, nor professedly pietistic, like that of the seventeenth. It seems to have no general aim, the opinions and efforts of the authors being seldom consistent with themselves for any length of time. No one can deny that this literature engages the reader's most intense interest by the seductive sagacity of the movement, the variety of incident, and the most perfect command of those means calculated to produce certain ends.

In 1866 appeared a collection of poems, "Le Parnasse Contemporain," which included contributions of many poets already named, and of others unknown. Two other collections followed, one in 1869 and one in 1876, by numerous contributors, who have mostly published separate works. They are called collectively, half seriously and half in derision, "Les Parnassiens." Their cardinal principle is a devotion to poetry as an art, with diversity of aim and subject. Of these, Coppee devotes himself to domestic and social subjects; Louise Siefert indulges in the poetry of despair; Glatigny excels all in individuality of poetical treatment. The Parnassiens number three or four score poets; the average of their work is high, though to none can be assigned the first rank.

FICTION.—Previous to 1830 no writer of fiction had formed a school, nor had this form of literature been cultivated to any great extent. From the immense influence of Walter Scott, or from other causes, there suddenly appeared a remarkable group of novelists, Hugo, Gautier, Dumas, Merimee, Balzac, George Sand, Sandeau, Charles de Bernard, and others scarcely inferior. It is remarkable that the excellence of the first group has been maintained by a new generation, Murger, About, Feuillet, Flaubert, Erckmann-Chatrian, Droz, Daudet, Cherbulliez, Gaboriau, Dumas fils, and others.

During this period the romance-writing of France has taken two different directions. The first, that of the novel of incident, of which Scott was the model; the second, that of analysis and character, illustrated by the genius of Balzac and George Sand. The stories of Hugo are novels of incident with ideal character painting. Dumas's works are dramatic in character and charming for their brilliancy and wit. His "Trois Mousquetaires" and "Monte Christo" are considered his best novels. Of a similar kind are the novels of Eugene Sue. Both writers were followed by a crowd of companions and imitators. The taste for the novel of incident, which had nearly died out, was renewed in another form, with the admixture of domestic interest, by the literary partners, Erckmann-Chatrian.

Theophile Gautier modified the incident novel in many short tales, a kind of writing for which the French have always been famous, and of which the writings of Gautier were masterpieces. With him may be classed Prosper Merimee (1803-1871), one of the most exquisite masters of the language.

Since 1830 the tendency has been towards novels of contemporary life. The two great masters of the novel of character and manners, as opposed to that of history and incident, are Honore de Balzac (1799-1850) and Aurore Dudevant, commonly called George Sand (d. 1876), whose early writings are strongly tinged with the spirit of revolt against moral and social arrangements: later she devoted herself to studies of country life and manners, involving bold sketches of character and dramatic situations. One of the most remarkable characteristics of her work is the apparently inexhaustible imagination with which she continued to the close of her long life to pour forth many volumes of fiction year after year. Balzac, as a writer, was equally productive. In the "Comedie Humaine" he attempted to cover the whole ground of human, or at least of French life, and the success he attained was remarkable. The influence of these two writers affected the entire body of those who succeeded them with very few exceptions. Among these are Jules Sandeau, whose novels are distinguished by minute character-drawing in tones of a sombre hue.

Saintine, the author of "Picciola," Mme. Craven (Recit d'une Soeur), Henri Beyle, who, under the nom de plume of Stendhal, wrote the "Chartreuse de Parme," a powerful novel of the analytical kind, and Henri Murger, a painter of Bohemian life. Octave Feuillet has attained great popularity in romances of fashionable life. Gustave Flaubert (b. 1821), with great acuteness and knowledge of human nature, combines scholarship and a power over the language not surpassed by any writer of the century. Edmond About (b. 1828) is distinguished by his refined wit. One of the most popular writers of the second empire is Ernest Feydeau (1821-1874), a writer of great ability, but morbid and affected in the choice and treatment of his subjects. Of late, many writers of the realist school have striven to outdo their predecessors in carrying out the principles of Balzac; among these are Gaboriau, Cherbulliez, Droz, Belot, Alphonse Daudet.

CRITICISM.—Previous to the Romantic movement in France the office of criticism had been to compare all literary productions with certain established rules, and to judge them accordingly. The theory of the new school was, that a work should be judged by itself alone or by the author's ideal. The great master of this school was Sainte-Beuve (1804- 1869), who possessed a rare combination of great and accurate learning, compass and profundity of thought, and above all sympathy in judgment. Hippolyte Taine (b. 1828), the most brilliant of living French critics, Theophile Gautier, Arsene Houssaye, Jules Janin (d. 1874), Sarcey, and others, are distinguished in this branch of letters.

MISCELLANEOUS.—Among earlier writers of the nineteenth century are Sismondi, whose "Literature of Southern Europe" remains without a rival, the work of Ginguene on "Italian Literature," and of Renouard on "Provencal Poetry." In intellectual philosophy Jouffroy and Damiron continued the work begun by Royer-Collard, that of destroying the influence of sensualism and materialism. The philosophical writings of Cousin (1792-1867) are models of didactic prose, and in his work on "The Beautiful, True, and Good" he raises the science of aesthetics to its highest dignity. Lamennais (1782-1854) exhibits in his writings various phases of religious thought, ending in rationalism. Comte (1798-1857), in his "Positive Philosophy," shows power of generalization and force of logic, though tending to atheism and socialism. De Tocqueville and Chevalier are distinguished in political science, the former particularly for his able work on "Democracy in America." Renan (b. 1823) is a prominent name in theological writing, and Montalembert (1810-1870) a historian with strong religious tendencies.

Among the orators Lacordaire, Pere Felix, Pere Hyacinthe, and Coquerel are best known.

Among the women of France distinguished for their literary abilities are Mme. Durant, who, under the name of Henri Greville, has given, in a series of tales, many charming pictures of Russian life, Mlle. Clarisse Bader, who has produced valuable historical works on the condition of women in all ages, and Mme. Adam, a brilliant writer and journalist.

In science, Pasteur and Milne-Edwards hold the first rank in biology, Paul Bert in physiology, and Quatrefages in anthropology of races.



SPANISH LITERATURE.

INTRODUCTION.—1. Spanish Literature and its Divisions.—2. The Language.

PERIOD FIRST.—1. Early National Literature; the Poem of the Cid; Berceo, Alfonso the Wise, Segura; Don Juan Manuel, the Archpriest of Hita, Santob, Ayala.—2. Old Ballads.—3. The Chronicles.—4. Romances of Chivalry.—5. The Drama.—6. Provencal Literature in Spain.—7. The Influence of Italian Literature in Spain.—8. The Cancioneros and Prose Writing.—9. The Inquisition.

PERIOD SECOND.—1. The Effect of Intolerance on Letters.—2. Influence of Italy on Spanish Literature; Boscan, Garcilasso de la Vega, Diego de Mendoza.—3. History; Cortez, Gomara, Oviedo, Las Casas.—4. The Drama, Rueda, Lope de Vega, Calderon de la Barca.—5. Romances and Tales; Cervantes, and other Writers of Fiction.—6. Historical Narrative Poems; Ercilla.—7. Lyric Poetry; the Argensolas; Luis de Leon, Quevedo, Herrera, Gongora, and others.—8. Satirical and other Poetry.—9. History and other Prose Writing; Zurita, Mariana, Sandoval, and others.

PERIOD THIRD.—1. French Influence on the Literature of Spain.—2. The Dawn of Spanish Literature in the Eighteenth Century; Feyjoo, Isla, Moratin the elder, Yriarte, Melendez, Gonzalez, Quintana, Moratin the younger.—3. Spanish Literature in the Nineteenth Century.

INTRODUCTION.

1. SPANISH LITERATURE AND ITS DIVISIONS.—At the period of the subversion of the Empire of the West, in the fifth century, Spain was invaded by the Suevi, the Alans, the Vandals, and the Visigoths. The country which had for six centuries been subjected to the dominion of the Romans, and had, adopted the language and arts of its masters, now experienced those changes in manners, opinions, military spirit, and language, which took place in the other provinces of the empire, and which, were, in fact, the origin of the nations which arose on the overthrow of the Roman power. Among the conquerors of Spain, the Visigoths were the most numerous; the ancient Roman subjects were speedily confounded with them, and their dominion soon extended over nearly the whole country. In the year 710 the peninsula was invaded by the Arabs or Moors, and from that time the active and incessant struggles of the Spanish Christians against the invaders, and their necessary contact with Arabian civilization, began to elicit sparks of intellectual energy. Indeed, the first utterance of that popular feeling which became the foundation of the national literature was heard in the midst of that extraordinary contest, which lasted for more than seven centuries, so that the earliest Spanish poetry seems but a breathing of the energy and heroism which, at the time it appeared, animated the Spanish Christians throughout the peninsula. Overwhelmed by the Moors, they did not entirely yield; a small but valiant band, retreating before the fiery pursuit of their enemies, established themselves in the extreme northwestern portion of their native land, amidst the mountains and the fastnesses of Biscay and Asturias, while the others remained under the yoke of the conquerors, adopting, in some degree, the manners and habits of the Arabians. On the destruction of the caliphat of Cordova, in the year 1031, the dismemberment of the Moslem territories into petty Independent kingdoms, often at variance with each other, afforded the Christians a favorable opportunity of reconquering their country. One after another the Moorish states fell before them. The Moors were driven farther and farther to the south, and by the middle of the thirteenth century they had no dominion in Spain except the kingdom of Granada, which for two centuries longer continued the splendid abode of luxury and magnificence.

As victory inclined more and more to the Spanish arms, the Castilian dialect rapidly grew into a vehicle adequate to express the pride and dignity of the prevailing people, and that enthusiasm for liberty which was long their finest characteristic. The poem of the Cid early appeared, and in the thirteenth century a numerous family of romantic ballads followed, all glowing with heroic ardor. As another epoch drew near, the lyric form began to predominate, in which, however, the warm expressions of the Spanish heart were restricted by a fondness for conceit and allegory. The rudiments of the drama, religious, pastoral, and satiric, soon followed, marked by many traits of original thought and talent. Thus the course of Spanish literature proceeded, animated and controlled by the national character, to the end of the fifteenth century.

In the sixteenth, the original genius of the Spaniards, and their proud consciousness of national greatness, contributed to the maintenance and improvement of their literature in the face of the Inquisition itself. Released by the conquest of Granada (1492) from the presence of internal foes, prosperous at home and powerful abroad, Spain naturally rose to high mental dignity; and with all that she gathered from foreign contributions, her writers kept much of their native vein, more free than at first from Orientalism, but still breathing of their own romantic land. A close connection, however, for more than one hundred years with Italy, familiarized the Spanish mind with eminent Italian authors and with the ancient classics.

During the seventeenth century, especially from the middle to the close, the decay of letters kept pace with the decline of Spanish power, until the humiliation of both seemed completed in the reign of Charles II. About that time, however, the Spanish drama received a full development and attained its perfection. In the eighteenth century, under the government of the Bourbons, and partly through the patronage of Philip V., there was a certain revival of literature; but unfortunately, parties divided, and many of the educated Spaniards were so much attracted by French glitter as to turn with disgust from their own writers. The political convulsions, of which Spain has been the victim since the time of Ferdinand VII., have greatly retarded the progress of national literature, and the nineteenth century has thus far produced little which is worthy of mention.

The literary history of Spain may be divided into three periods:—

The first, extending from the close of the twelfth century to the beginning of the sixteenth, will contain the literature of the country from the first appearance of the present written language to the early part of the reign of Charles V., and will include the genuinely national literature, and that portion which, by imitating the refinement of Provence or of Italy, was, during the same interval, more or less separated from the popular spirit and genius.

The second, the period of literary success and national glory, extending from the beginning of the sixteenth century to the close of the seventeenth, will embrace the literature from the accession of the Austrian family to its extinction.

The third, the period of decline, extends from the beginning of the eighteenth to the middle of the nineteenth century, or from the accession of the Bourbon family to the present time.

2. THE LANGUAGE.—The Spanish Christians who, after the Moorish conquest, had retreated to the mountains of Asturias, carried with them the Latin language as they had received it corrupted from the Romans, and still more by the elements introduced into it by the invasion of the northern tribes. In their retreat they found themselves amidst the descendants of the Iberians, the earliest race which had inhabited Spain, who appeared to have shaken off little of the barbarism that had resisted alike the invasion of the Romans and of the Goths, and who retained the original Iberian or Basque tongue. Coming in contact with this, the language of those Christians underwent new modifications; later, when they advanced in their conquest toward the south and the east, and found themselves surrounded by those portions of their race that had remained among the Arabs, known as Mucarabes, they felt that they were in the presence of a civilization and refinement altogether superior to their own. As the Goths, between the fifth and eighth centuries, had received a vast number of words from the Latin, because it was the language of a people with whom they were intimately mingled, and who were much more intellectual and advanced than themselves, so, for the same reason, the whole nation, between the eighth and thirteenth centuries, received another increase of their vocabulary from the Arabic, and accommodated themselves in a remarkable degree to the advanced culture of their southern countrymen, and of their new Moorish subjects.

It appears that about the middle of the twelfth century this new dialect had risen to the dignity of being a written language; and it spread gradually through the country. It differed from the pure or the corrupted Latin, and still more from the Arabic; yet it was obviously formed by a union of both, modified by the analogies and spirit of the Gothic constructions and dialects, and containing some remains of the vocabularies of the Iberians, the Celts, the Phoenicians, and of the German tribes, who at different periods had occupied the peninsula. This, like the other languages of Southern Europe, was called originally the Romance, from the prevalence of the Roman and Latin elements.

The territories of the Christian Spaniards were divided into three longitudinal sections, having each a separate dialect, arising from the mixture of different primitive elements. The Catalan was spoken in the east, the Castilian in the centre, while the Galician, which originated the Portuguese, prevailed in the west.

The Catalan or Limousin, the earliest dialect cultivated in the peninsula, bore a strong resemblance to the Provencal, and when the bards were driven from Provence they found a home in the east of Spain, and numerous celebrated troubadours arose in Aragon and Catalonia. But many elements concurred to produce a decay of the Catalan, and from the beginning of the sixteenth century it rapidly declined. It is still spoken in the Balearic Islands and among the lower classes of some of the eastern parts of Spain, but since the sixteenth century the Castilian alone has been the vehicle of literature.

The Castilian dialect followed the fortune of the Castilian arms, until it finally became the established language, even of the most southern provinces, where it had been longest withstood by the Arabic. Its clear, sonorous vowels and the beautiful articulation of its syllables, give it a greater resemblance to the Italian than any other idiom of the peninsula. But amidst this euphony the ear is struck with the sound of the German and Arabic guttural, which is unknown in the other languages in which Latin roots predominate.

PERIOD FIRST.

FROM THE FIRST APPEARANCE OF THE WRITTEN LANGUAGE TO THE EARLY PART OF THE REIGN OF CHARLES V. (1200-1500).

1. EARLY NATIONAL LITERATURE.—There are two traits of the earliest Spanish literature which so peculiarly distinguish it that they deserve to be noticed from the outset—religious faith and knightly loyalty. The Spanish national character, as it has existed from the earliest times to the present day, was formed in that solemn contest which began when the Moors landed beneath the rock of Gibraltar, and which did not end until eight centuries after, when the last remnants of the race were driven from the shores of Spain. During this contest, especially that part of it when the earliest Spanish poetry appeared, nothing but an invincible faith and a not less invincible loyalty to their own princes could have sustained the Christian Spaniards in their struggles against their infidel oppressors. It was, therefore, a stern necessity which made these two high qualities elements of the Spanish national character, and it is not surprising that we find submission to the church and loyalty to the king constantly breathing through every portion of Spanish literature.

The first monument of the Spanish, or, as it was oftener called, the Castilian tongue, the most ancient epic in any of the Romance languages, is "The Poem of the Cid." It consists of more than three thousand lines, and was probably not composed later than the year 1200. This poem celebrates the achievements of the great hero of the chivalrous age of Spain, Rodrigo Diaz (1020-1099), who obtained from five Moorish kings, whom he had vanquished in battle, the title of El Seid, or my lord. He was also called by the Spaniards El Campeador or El Cid Campeador, the Champion or the Lord Champion, and he well deserved the honorable title, for he passed almost the whole of his life in the field against the oppressors of his country, and led the conquering arms of the Christians over nearly a quarter of Spain. No hero has been so universally celebrated by his countrymen, and poetry and tradition have delighted to attach to his name a long series of fabulous achievements, which remind us as often of Amadis and Arthur, as they do of the sober heroes of history. His memory is so sacredly dear to the Spanish nation, that to say "by the faith of Rodrigo," is still considered the strongest vow of loyalty.

The poem of the Cid is valuable mainly for the living picture it presents of manners and character in the eleventh century. It is a contemporary and spirited exhibition of the chivalrous times of Spain, given occasionally with an admirable and Homeric simplicity. It is the history of the most romantic hero of Spanish tradition, continually mingled with domestic and personal details, that bring the character of the Cid and his age very near to our own sympathies and interests. The language is the same which he himself spoke—still only imperfectly developed—it expresses the bold and original spirit of the time, and the metre and rhyme are rude and unsettled; but the poem throughout is striking and original, and breathes everywhere the true Castilian spirit. During the thousand years which elapsed from the time of the decay of Greek and Roman culture down to the appearance of the Divine Comedy, no poetry was produced so original in its tone, or so full of natural feeling, picturesqueness, and energy.

There are a few other poems, anonymous, like that of the Cid, whose language and style carry them back to the thirteenth century. The next poetry we meet is by a known author, Gonzalo (1220-1260), a priest commonly called Berceo, from the place of his birth. His works, all on religious subjects, amount to more than thirteen thousand lines. His language shows some advance from that in which the Cid was written, but the power and movement of that remarkable legend are entirely wanting in these poems. There is a simple-hearted piety in them, however, that is very attractive, and in some of them a story-telling spirit that is occasionally vivid and graphic.

Alfonso, surnamed the Wise (1221-1284), united the crowns of Leon and Castile, and attracted to his court many of the philosophers and learned men of the East. He was a poet closely connected with the Provencal troubadours of his time, and so skilled in astronomy and the occult sciences that his fame spread throughout Europe. He had more political, philosophical, and elegant learning than any man of his age, and made further advances in some of the exact sciences. At one period his consideration was so great, that he was elected Emperor of Germany; but his claims were set aside by the subsequent election of Rudolph of Hapsburg. The last great work undertaken by Alfonso was a kind of code known as "Las Siete Partidas," or The Seven Parts, from the divisions of the work itself. This is the most important legislative monument of the age, and forms a sort of Spanish common law, which, with the decisions under it, has been the basis of Spanish jurisprudence ever since. Becoming a part of the Constitution of the State in all Spanish colonies, it has, from the time Louisiana and Florida were added to the United States, become in some cases the law in our own country.

The life of Alfonso was full of painful vicissitudes. He was driven from his throne by factious nobles and a rebellious son, and died in exile, leaving behind him the reputation of being the wisest fool in Christendom. Mariana says of him: "He was more fit for letters than for the government of his subjects; he studied the heavens and watched the stars, but forgot the earth and lost his kingdom." Yet Alfonso is among the chief founders of his country's intellectual fame, and he is to be remembered alike for the great advancement Castilian prose composition made in his hands, for his poetry, for his astronomical tables—which all the progress of modern science has not deprived of their value—and for his great work on legislation, which is at this moment an authority in both hemispheres.

Juan Lorenzo Segura (1176-1250) was the author of a poem containing more than ten thousand lines, on the history of Alexander the Great. In this poem the manners and customs of Spain in the thirteenth century are substituted for those of ancient Greece, and the Macedonian hero is invested with all the virtues and even equipments of European chivalry.

Don Juan Manuel, (1282-1347), a nephew of Alfonso the Wise, was one of the most turbulent and dangerous Spanish barons of his time. His life was full of intrigue and violence, and for thirty years he disturbed his country by his military and rebellious enterprises. But in all these circumstances, so adverse to intellectual pursuits, he showed himself worthy of the family in which for more than a century letters had been honored and cultivated. Don Juan is known to have written twelve works, but it is uncertain how many of these are still in existence; only one, "Count Lucanor," has been placed beyond the reach of accident by being printed. The Count Lucanor is the most valuable monument of Spanish literature in the fourteenth century, and one of the earliest prose works in the Castilian tongue, as the Decameron, which appeared about the same time, was the first in the Italian. Both are collections of tales; but the object of the Decameron is to amuse, while the Count Lucanor is the production of a statesman, instructing a grave and serious nation in lessons of policy and morality in the form of apologues. These stories have suggested many subjects for the Spanish stage, and one of them contains the groundwork of Shakspeare's "Taming of the Shrew."

Juan Ruiz, arch-priest of Hita (1292-1351), was a contemporary of Don Manuel. His works consist of nearly seven thousand verses, forming a series of stories which appear to be sketches from his own history, mingled with fictions and allegories. The most curious is "The Battle of Don Carnival with Madame Lent," in which Don Bacon, Madame Hungbeef, and a train of other savory personages, are marshaled in mortal combat. The cause of Madame Lent triumphs, and Don Carnival is condemned to solitary imprisonment and one spare meal each day. At the end of forty days the allegorical prisoner escapes, raises new followers, Don Breakfast and others, and re-appears in alliance with Don Amor. The poetry of the arch- priest is very various in tone. In general, it is satirical and pervaded by a quiet humor. His happiest success is in the tales and apologues which illustrate the adventures that constitute a framework for his poetry, which is natural and spirited; and in this, as in other points, he strikingly resembles Chaucer. Both often sought their materials in Northern French poetry, and both have that mixture of devotion and of licentiousness belonging to their age, as well as to the personal character of each.

Rabbi Santob, a Jew of Carrion (fl. 1350), was the author of many poems, the most important of which is "The Dance of Death," a favorite subject of the painters and poets of the Middle Ages, representing a kind of spiritual masquerade, in which persons of every rank and age appear dancing with the skeleton form of Death. In this Spanish version it is perhaps more striking and picturesque than in any other—the ghastly nature of the subject being brought into very lively contrast with the festive tone of the verses. This grim fiction had for several centuries great success throughout Europe.

Pedro Lopez Ayala (1332-1407), grand chancellor of Castile under four successive sovereigns, was both a poet and a historian. His poem, "Court Rhymes," is the most remarkable of his productions. His style is grave, gentle, and didactic, with occasional expressions of poetic feeling, which seem, however, to belong as much to their age as to their author.

2. OLD BALLADS.—From the thirteenth to the fifteenth century, the period we have just gone over, the courts of the different sovereigns of Europe were the principal centres of refinement and civilization, and this was peculiarly the case in Spain during this period, when literature was produced or encouraged by the sovereigns and other distinguished men. But this was not the only literature of Spain. The spirit of poetry diffused throughout the peninsula, excited by the romantic events of Spanish history, now began to assume the form of a popular literature, and to assert for itself a place which in some particulars it has maintained ever since. This popular literature may be distributed into four different classes. The first contains the Ballads, or the narrative and lyrical poetry of the common people from the earliest times; the second, the Chronicles, or the half-genuine, half-fabulous histories of the great events and heroes of the national annals; the third class comprises the Romances of Chivalry, intimately connected with both the others, and, after a time, as passionately admired by the whole nation; and the fourth includes the Drama, which in its origin has always been a popular and religious amusement, and was hardly less so in Spain than it was in Greece or in France. These four classes compose what was generally most valued in Spanish literature during the latter part of the fourteenth century, the whole of the fifteenth, and much of the sixteenth. They rested on the deep foundations of the national character, and therefore by their very nature were opposed to the Provencal, the Italian, and the courtly schools, which flourished during the same period.

The metrical structure of the old Spanish ballad was extremely simple, consisting of eight-syllable lines, which are composed with great facility in other languages as well as the Castilian. Sometimes they were broken into stanzas of four lines each, thence called redondillas, or roundelays, but their prominent peculiarity is that of the asonante, an imperfect rhyme that echoes the same vowel, but not the same final consonant in the terminating syllables. This metrical form was at a later period adopted by the dramatists, and is now used in every department of Spanish poetry.

The old Spanish ballads comprise more than a thousand poems, first collected in the sixteenth century, whose authors and dates are alike unknown. Indeed, until after the middle of that century, it is difficult to find ballads written by known authors. These collections, arranged without regard to chronological order, relate to the fictions of chivalry, especially to Charlemagne and his peers, to the traditions and history of Spain, to Moorish adventures, and to the private life and manners of the Spaniards themselves; they belong to the unchronicled popular life and character of the age which gave them birth. The ballads of chivalry, with the exception of those relating to Charlemagne, occupy a less important place than those founded on national subjects. The historical ballads are by far the most numerous and the most interesting; and of those the first in the order of time are those relating to Bernardo del Carpio, concerning whom there are about forty. Bernardo (fl. 800) was the offspring of a secret marriage between the Count de Saldana and a sister of Alfonso the Chaste, at which the king was so much offended that he sent the Infanta to a convent, and kept the Count in perpetual imprisonment, educating Bernardo as his own son, and keeping him in ignorance of his birth. The achievements of Bernardo ending with the victory of Roncesvalles, his efforts to procure the release of his father, the falsehood of the king, and the despair and rebellion of Bernardo after the death of the Count in prison, constitute the romantic incidents of these ballads.

The next series is that on Fernan Gonzalez, a chieftain who, in the middle of the tenth century, recovered Castile from the Moors and became its first sovereign count. The most romantic are those which describe his being twice rescued from prison by his heroic wife, and his contest with King Sancho, in which he displayed all the turbulence and cunning of a robber baron of the Middle Ages.

The Seven Lords of Lara form the next group; some of them are beautiful, and the story they contain is one of the most romantic in Spanish history. The Seven Lords of Lara are betrayed by their uncle into the hands of the Moors, and put to death, while their father, by the basest treason, is confined in a Moorish prison. An eighth son, the famous Mudarra, whose mother is a noble Moorish lady, at last avenges all the wrongs of his race.

But from the earliest period, the Cid has been the occasion of more ballads than any other of the great heroes of Spanish history or fable. They were first collected in 1612, and have been continually republished to the present day. There are at least a hundred and sixty of them, forming a more complete series than any other, all strongly marked with the spirit of their age and country.

The Moorish ballads form a large and brilliant class by themselves. The period when this style of poetry came into favor was the century after the fall of Granada, when the south, with its refinement and effeminacy, its magnificent and fantastic architecture, the foreign yet not strange manners of its people, and the stories of their warlike achievements, all took strong hold of the Spanish imagination, and made of Granada a fairy land.

Of the ballads relating to private life, most of them are effusions of love, others are satirical, pastoral, and burlesque, and many descriptive of the manners and amusements of the people at large; but all of them are true representations of Spanish life. They are marked by an attractive simplicity of thought and expression, united to a sort of mischievous shrewdness. No such popular poetry exists in any other language, and no other exhibits in so great a degree that nationality which is the truest element of such poetry everywhere. The English and Scotch ballads, with which they may most naturally be compared, belong to a ruder state of society, which gave to the poetry less dignity and elevation than belong to a people who, like the Spanish, were for centuries engaged in a contest ennobled by a sense of religion and loyalty, and which could not fail to raise the minds of those engaged in it far above the atmosphere that settled around the bloody feuds of rival barons, or the gross maraudings of border warfare. The great Castilian heroes, the Cid, Bernardo del Carpio, and Pelayo, are even now an essential portion of the faith and poetry of the common people of Spain, and are still honored as they were centuries ago. The stories of Guarinos and of the defeat at Roncesvalles are still sung by the wayfaring muleteers, as they were when Don Quixote heard them on his journey to Toboso, and the showmen still rehearse the same adventures in the streets of Seville, that they did at the solitary inn of Montesinos when he encountered them there.

3. THE CHRONICLES.—As the great Moorish contest was transferred to the south of Spain, the north became comparatively quiet. Wealth and leisure followed; the castles became the abodes of a crude but free hospitality, and the distinctions of society grew more apparent. The ballads from this time began to subside into the lower portions of society; the educated sought forms of literature more in accordance with their increased knowledge and leisure, and their more settled system of social life. The oldest of these forms was that of the Spanish prose chronicles, of which there are general and royal chronicles, chronicles of particular events, chronicles of particular persons, chronicles of travels, and romantic chronicles.

The first of these chronicles in the order of time as well as that of merit, comes from the royal hand of Alfonso the Wise, and is entitled "The Chronicle of Spain." It begins with the creation of the world, and concludes with the death of St. Ferdinand, the father of Alfonso. The last part, relating to the history of Spain, is by far the most attractive, and sets forth in a truly national spirit all the rich old traditions of the country. This is not only the most interesting of the Spanish chronicles, but the most interesting of all that in any country mark the transition from its poetical and romantic traditions to the grave exactness of historical truth. The chronicle of the Cid was probably taken from this work.

Alfonso XI. ordered the annals of the kingdom to be continued down to his own reign, or through the period from 1252 to 1312. During many succeeding reigns the royal chronicles were continued,—that of Ferdinand and Isabella, by Pulgar, is the last instance of the old style; but though the annals were still kept up, the free and picturesque spirit that gave them life was no longer there.

The chronicles of particular events and persons are most of them of little value.

Among the chronicles of travels, the oldest one of any value is an account of a Spanish embassy to Tamerlane, the great Tartar potentate.

Of the romantic chronicles, the principal specimen is that of Don Roderic, a fabulous account of the reign of King Roderic, the conquest of the country by the Moors, and the first attempts to recover it in the beginning of the eighth century. The style is heavy and verbose, although upon it Southey has founded much of his beautiful poem of "Roderic, the last of the Goths." This chronicle of Don Roderic, which was little more than a romance of chivalry, marks the transition to those romantic fictions that had already begun to inundate Spain. But the series which it concludes extends over a period of two hundred and fifty years, from the time of Alfonso the Wise to the accession of Charles V. (1221-1516), and is unrivaled in the richness and variety of its poetic elements. In truth, these old Spanish chronicles cannot be compared with those of any other nation, and whether they have their foundation in truth or in fable, they strike their strong roots further down into the deep soil of popular feeling and character. The old Spanish loyalty, the old Spanish religious faith, as both were formed and nourished in long periods of national trial and suffering, everywhere appear; and they contain such a body of antiquities, traditions, and fables as has been offered to no other people; furnishing not only materials from which a multitude of old Spanish plays, ballads, and romances have been drawn, but a mine which has unceasingly been wrought by the rest of Europe for similar purposes, and which still remains unexhausted.

4. ROMANCES OF CHIVALRY.—The ballads originally belonged to the whole nation, but especially to its less cultivated portions. The chronicles, on the contrary, belonged to the knightly classes, who sought in these picturesque records of their fathers a stimulus to their own virtue. But as the nation advanced in refinement, books of less grave character were demanded, and the spirit of poetical invention soon turned to the national traditions, and produced from these new and attractive forms of fiction. Before the middle of the fourteenth century, the romances of chivalry connected with the stories of Arthur and the knights of the Round Table, and Charlemagne and his peers, which had appeared in France two centuries before, were scarcely known in Spain; but after that time they were imitated, and a new series of fictions was invented, which soon spread through the world, and became more famous than, either of its predecessors.

This extraordinary family of romances is that of which "Amadis" is the poetical head and type, and this was probably produced before the year 1400, by Vasco de Lobeira, a Portuguese. The structure and tone of this fiction are original, and much more free than those of the French romances that had preceded it. The stories of Arthur and Charlemagne are both somewhat limited in invention by the adventures ascribed to them in the traditions and chronicles, while that of Amadis belongs purely to the imagination, and its sole purpose is to set forth the character of a perfect knight. Amadis is admitted by general consent to be the best of all the old romances of chivalry. The series which followed, founded upon the Amadis, reached the number of twenty-four. They were successively translated into French, and at once became famous. Considering the passionate admiration which this work so long excited, and the influence that, with little merit of its own, it has ever since exercised on the poetry and romance of modern Europe, it is a phenomenon without parallel in literary history.

Many other series of romances followed, numbering more than seventy volumes, most of them in folio, and their influence over the Spanish character extended through two hundred years. Their extraordinary popularity may be accounted for, if we remember that, when they first appeared in Spain, it had long been peculiarly the land of knighthood. Extravagant and impossible as are many of the adventures recorded in these books of chivalry, they so little exceeded the absurdities of living men that many persons took the romances themselves to be true histories, and believed them. The happiest work of the greatest genius Spain has produced bears witness on every page to the prevalence of an absolute fanaticism for these books of chivalry, and becomes at once the seal of their vast popularity and the monument of their fate.

5. THE DRAMA.—The ancient theatre of the Greeks and Romans was continued in some of its grosser forms in Constantinople and in other parts of the fallen empire far into the Middle Ages. But it was essentially mythological or heathenish, and, as such, it was opposed by the Christian church, which, however, provided a substitute for what it thus opposed, by adding a dramatic element to its festivals. Thus the manger at Bethlehem, with the worship of the shepherds and magi, was at a very early period solemnly exhibited every year before the altars of the churches, at Christmas, as were the tragical events of the last days of the Saviour's life, during Lent and at the approach of Easter. To these spectacles, dialogue was afterwards added, and they were called, as we have seen, Mysteries; they were used successfully not only as a means of amusement, but for the religious edification of an ignorant multitude, and in some countries they have been continued quite down to our own times. The period when these representations were first made in Spain cannot now be determined, though it was certainly before the middle of the thirteenth century, and no distinct account of them now remains.

A singular combination of pastoral and satirical poetry indicates the first origin of the Spanish secular drama. Towards the close of the fifteenth century, these pastoral dialogues were converted into real dramas by Enzina, and were publicly represented. But the most important of these early productions is the "Tragi-comedy of Calisto and Meliboea," or "Celestina." Though it can never have been represented, it has left unmistakable traces of its influence on the national drama ever since. It was translated into various languages, and few works ever had a more brilliant success. The great fault of the Celestina is its shameless libertinism of thought and language; and its chief merits are its life- like exhibition of the most unworthy forms of human character, and its singularly pure, rich, and idiomatic Castilian style.