Legends, Tales and Poems - Gustavo Adolfo Becquer
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Legends, Tales and Poems
[Illustration: After an etching by B. Maura]
LEGENDS, TALES AND POEMS
BY
GUSTAVO ADOLFO BECQUER
EDITED
WITH INTRODUCTION, NOTES AND VOCABULARY
BY
EVERETT WARD OLMSTED, PH.D.
ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF THE ROMANCE LANGUAGES IN
CORNELL UNIVERSITY
* * * * *
TO
MY MOTHER
* * * * *
PREFACE
In preparing this collection of Becquer's legends, tales, and short
poems, which is the only annotated edition of this author's works that
has been published as yet for English-speaking students, the editor
has aimed to give to our schools and colleges a book that may serve,
not only as a reader for first or second year classes, but also as an
introduction to Spanish literature, through the works of one of the
most original and charming authors of the Spanish Romantic school.
Fondness for good literature should be stimulated from the very first,
and the quaint tales and legends of old Spain contained in this
edition, told, as they are, in a most fascinating style, are well
adapted to captivate the student's interest and to lead him to
investigate further the rich mine of Spanish literature. Becquer's
poetry is no less pleasing than his prose, and not much more difficult
to read. With the aid of the ample treatise on Spanish versification
contained in the introduction, the student will be enabled to
appreciate the harmony and rhythm of Becquer's verse, and in all
subsequent reading of Spanish poetry he will find this treatise a
convenient and valuable work of reference.
The Life of Becquer, though concise, is perhaps the most complete that
has yet been published, for it embodies all the data given by previous
biographers and a certain number of facts gathered by the writer at
the time of his last visit to Spain (in 1905-1906), from friends of
Becquer who were then living.
The vocabulary has been made sufficiently complete to free the notes
from that too frequent translation of words or phrases which often
encumbers them.
The notes have been printed in the only convenient place for them, at
the bottom of each page, and will be found to be as complete and
definite as possible on geographical, biographical, historical, or
other points that may not be familiar to the student or the teacher.
All grammatical or syntactical matter, unless of a difficult or
peculiar character, has been omitted, while the literary citations
that abound will, it is hoped, stimulate the student to do further
reading and to make literary comparisons of his own.
It remains for the editor to express his profound gratitude to the
following gentlemen for their aid in collecting facts regarding
Becquer and for their encouragement of this work: the Exc^{mo} Sr.
Conde de las Navas, the Exc^{mo} Sr. Licenciado D. Jose Gestoso y
Perez, and the Exc^{mo} Sr. D. Francisco de Laiglesia. It is his
pleasure also to convey his thanks to Professor George L. Burr of
Cornell University for aid in certain of the historical notes, and
most especially to gratefully acknowledge his indebtedness to the aid,
or rather collaboration, of Mr. Arthur Gordon of Cornell University,
and Mr. W. R. Price of the High School of Commerce, New York City.
EVERETT WARD OLMSTED
CORNELL UNIVERSITY
Ithaca, N.Y.
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
LIFE OF BECQUER
UNPUBLISHED LETTER OF BECQUER
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
SPANISH PROSODY
DESDE MI CELDA--CARTA SEXTA
LOS OJOS VERDES
LA CORZA BLANCA
LA AJORCA DEL ORO
EL CRISTO DE LA CALAVERA
EL BESO
MAESE PEREZ EL ORGANISTA
LA CRUZ DEL DIABLO
CREED EN DROS
LAS HOJAS SECAS
RIMAS
VOCABULARY
INTRODUCTION
LIFE OF BECQUER
"In Seville, along the Guadalquivir, and close to the bank that leads
to the convent of San Jeronimo, may be found a kind of lagoon, which
fertilizes a miniature valley formed by the natural slope of the bank,
at that point very high and steep. Two or three leafy white poplars,
intertwining their branches, protect the spot from the rays of the
sun, which rarely succeeds in slipping through them. Their leaves
produce a soft and pleasing murmur as the wind stirs them and causes
them to appear now silver, now green, according to the point from
which it blows. A willow bathes its roots in the current of the
stream, toward which it leans as though bowed by an invisible weight,
and all about are multitudes of reeds and yellow lilies, such as grow
spontaneously at the edges of springs and streams.
"When I was a boy of fourteen or fifteen, and my soul was overflowing
with numberless longings, with pure thoughts and with that infinite
hope that is the most precious jewel of youth, when I deemed myself a
poet, when my imagination was full of those pleasing tales of the
classic world, and Rioja in his _silvas_ to the flowers, Herrera in
his tender elegies, and all my Seville singers, the Penates of my
special literature, spoke to me continually of the majestic Betis, the
river of nymphs, naiads, and poets, which, crowned with belfries and
laurels, flows to the sea from a crystal amphora, how often, absorbed
in the contemplation of my childish dreams, I would go and sit upon
its bank, and there, where the poplars protected me with their shadow,
would give rein to my fancies, and conjure up one of those impossible
dreams in which the very skeleton of death appeared before my eyes in
splendid, fascinating garb! I used to dream then of a happy,
independent life, like that of the bird, which is born to sing, and
receives its food from God. I used to dream of that tranquil life of
the poet, which glows with a soft light from generation to generation.
I used to dream that the city that saw my birth would one day swell
with pride at my name, adding it to the brilliant list of her
illustrious sons, and, when death should put an end to my existence,
that they would lay me down to dream the golden dream of immortality
on the banks of the Betis, whose praises I should have sung in
splendid odes, and in that very spot where I used to go so often to
hear the sweet murmur of its waves. A white stone with a cross and my
name should be my only monument.
"The white poplars, swaying night and day above my grave, should seem
to utter prayers for my soul in the rustling of their green and silver
leaves. In them the birds should come and nest, that they might sing
at dawn a joyous hymn to the resurrection of the spirit to regions
more serene. The willow, covering the spot with floating shadows,
should lend to it its own vague sadness, as it bent and shed about its
soft, wan leaves, as if to protect and to caress my mortal spoils. The
river, too, which in flood tide might almost come and kiss the border
of the slab o'ergrown with reeds, should lull my sleep with pleasant
music. And when some time had passed, and patches of moss had begun to
spread over the stone, a dense growth of wild morning-glories, of
those blue morning-glories with a disk of carmine in the center, which
I loved so much, should grow up by its side, twining through its
crevices and clothing it with their broad transparent leaves, which,
by I know not what mystery, have the form of hearts. Golden insects
with wings of light, whose buzzing lulls to sleep on heated
afternoons, should come and hover round their chalices, and one would
be obliged to draw aside the leafy curtain to read my name, now
blurred by time and moisture. But why should my name be read? Who
would not know that I was sleeping there?"[1]
[Footnote 1: _Obras de Gustavo A. Becquer_, Madrid, 1898, vol. II,
pp. 242-245. This edition will be understood hereafter in all
references to the works of Becquer.]
So mused the poet Becquer[1] in the golden days of his youth, when his
veins were swelling with health, when his heart was fired with
ambition, and in his ears was ringing the joyous invitation of his
muse.
[Footnote 1: The name is spelled indifferently with or without
accent--_Becquer_ or _Becquer_. In the choice of the latter
spelling, the authority of his principal biographer, Ramon Rodriguez
Correa, has been followed.]
His knowledge of the world was confined to the enchanting city of his
birth. Her gems of art and architecture had wrought themselves into
the fabric of his dreams; he had mused in her palm-gardens, worshiped
in her temples, and dreamed long afternoons on the shores of her
historic river. He knew nothing of the cold, prosaic world of selfish
interests. The time had not yet come when, in bitterness of spirit,
and wrapping his mantle about him against the chill wind of
indifference, he should say: "To-day my sole ambition is to be a
supernumerary in the vast human comedy, and when my silent role is
ended, to withdraw behind the scenes, neither hissed nor applauded,
making my exit unnoticed."[1]
[Footnote 1: _Obras_, vol. II, p. 251.]
Indeed, in those later days of trial and hardship, he would often look
out wearily upon Madrid, the city of his adoption, the scene of his
crushing struggle with necessity, as it lay outspread before his
windows,--"dirty, black, and ugly as a fleshless skeleton, shivering
under its immense shroud of snow,"[1] and in his mind he would conjure
up the city of his youth, his ever cherished Seville, "with her
_Giralda_ of lacework, mirrored in the trembling Guadalquivir, with
her narrow and tortuous Moorish streets, in which one fancies still he
hears the strange cracking sound of the walk of the Justiciary King;
Seville, with her barred windows and her love-songs, her iron
door-screens and her night watchmen, her altar-pieces and her stories,
her brawls and her music, her tranquil nights and her fiery
afternoons, her rosy dawns and her blue twilights; Seville, with all
the traditions that twenty centuries have heaped upon her brow, with
all the pomp and splendor of her southern nature."[2] No words of
praise seemed too glowing for her ardent lover.
[Footnote 1: _Ibid_., vol. III, p. iii.]
[Footnote 2: _Obras_, vol. III, pp. 109-110.]
By some strange mystery, however, it had been decreed by fate that he
should only meet with disappointment in every object of his love. The
city of his birth was no exception to the rule: since Becquer's death
it has made but little effort to requite his deep devotion or satisfy
his youthful dreams. You may search "the bank of the Guadalquivir that
leads to the ruined convent of San Jeronimo," you may spy among the
silvery poplars or the willows growing there, you may thrust aside the
reeds and yellow lilies or the tangled growth of morning-glories, but
all in vain--no "white stone with a cross" appears. You may wander
through the city's many churches, but no tomb to the illustrious poet
will you find, no monument in any square. His body sleeps well-nigh
forgotten in the cemetery of San Nicolas in Madrid.
If you will turn your steps, however, to the _barrio_ of Seville in
which the celebrated D. Miguel de Manara, the original type of _Juan
Tenorio_ and the _Estudiante de Salamanca_, felt the mysterious blow
and saw his own funeral train file by, and will enter the little
street of the Conde de Barajas, you will find on the facade of the
house No. 26 a modest but tasteful tablet bearing the words
EN ESTA CASA NACIO
GUSTAVO ADOLFO
BECQUER
XVII FEBRERO MDCCCXXXVI.[1]
[Footnote 1: This memorial, which was uncovered on January 10th,
1886, is due to a little group of Becquer's admirers, and especially
to the inspiration of a young Argentine poet, Roman Garcia Pereira
(whose _Canto a Becquer_, published in _La Ilustracion Artistica_,
Barcelona, December 27, 1886, is a tribute worthy of the poet who
inspired it), and to the personal efforts of the illustrious Seville
scholar, Don Jose Gestoso y Perez. It is only fair to add here that
there is also an inferior street in Seville named for Becquer.]
Here Gustavo Adolfo Dominguez Becquer opened his eyes upon this
inhospitable world. Eight days later he was baptized in the church of
San Lorenzo.[1] He was one of a family of eight sons, Eduardo,
Estanislao, Valeriano, Gustavo Adolfo, Alfredo, Ricardo, Jorge, and
Jose. His father, Don Jose Dominguez Becquer, was a well-known Seville
genre painter. He died when Gustavo was but a child of five, too young
to be taught the principles of his art; but he nevertheless bequeathed
to him the artistic temperament that was so dominant a trait in the
poet's genius. Becquer's mother, Dona Joaquina, survived his father
but a short time, and left her children orphaned while they were yet
very young. Gustavo was but nine and a half years old at the time of
his mother's death. Fortunately an old and childless uncle, D. Juan
Vargas, took charge of the motherless boys until they could find homes
or employment.
[Footnote 1: The following is a copy of his baptismal record:
"En jueves 25 de Febrero de 1836 anos D. Antonio Rodriguez Arenas
Pbro. con licencia del infrascrito Cura de la Parroquial de Sn.
Lorenzo de Sevilla: bautizo solemnemente a Gustavo Adolfo que nacio
en 17 de dicho mes y ano hijo de Jose Dominguez Vequer (_sic_) y
Dona Juaquina (_sic_) Bastida su legitima mujer. Fue su madrina Dona
Manuela Monchay vecina de la collacion de Sn. Miguel a la que se
advirtio el parentesco espiritual y obligaciones y para verdad lo
firme.--Antonio Lucena Cura." See La _Illustracion Artistica_,
Barcelona, December 27, 1886, pp. 363-366. Citations from this
periodical will hereafter refer to the issue of this date.]
Gustavo Adolfo received his first instruction at the College of San
Antonio Abad. After the loss of his mother his uncle procured for him
admission to the College of San Telmo, a training school for
navigators, situated on the banks of the Guadalquivir in the edifice
that later became the palace of the Dukes of Montpensier. This
establishment had been founded in 1681 in the ancient suburb of
Marruecos as a reorganization of the famous _Escuela de Mareantes_
(navigators) of Triana. The Government bore the cost of maintenance
and instruction of the pupils of this school, to which were admitted
only poor and orphaned boys of noble extraction. Gustavo fulfilled all
these requirements. Indeed, his family, which had come to Seville at
the close of the sixteenth century or at the beginning of the
seventeenth century, from Flanders, was one of the most distinguished
of the town. It had even counted among its illustrious members a
Seville Veinticuatro, and no one who was unable to present proof of
noble lineage could aspire to that distinction.[1]
[Footnote 1: "Don Martin Becquer, _mayorazgo_ and _Veinticuatro_, of
Seville, native of Flanders, married Dona Ursula Diez de Tejada.
Born to them were Don Juan and Dona Mencia Becquer. The latter
married Don Julian Dominguez, by whom she had a son Don Antonio
Dominguez y Becquer, who in turn contracted marriage with Dona Maria
Antonia Insausti y Bausa. Their son was Don Jose Dominguez Insausti
y Bausa, husband of Dona Joaquina Bastida y Vargas, and father of
the poet Becquer." The arms of the family "were a shield of azure
with a chevron of gold, charged with five stars of azure, two leaves
of clover in gold in the upper corners of the shield, and in the
point a crown of gold." The language of the original is not
technical, and I have translated literally. See _Carta a M. Achille
Fouquier_, by D. Jose Gestoso y Perez, in _La Ilustracion
Artistica_, pp. 363-366.]
Among the students of San Telmo there was one, Narciso Campillo, for
whom Gustavo felt a special friendship,--a lad whose literary tastes,
like his own, had developed early, and who was destined, later on, to
occupy no mean position in the field of letters. Writing of those days
of his youth, Senor Campillo says: "Our childhood friendship was
strengthened by our life in common, wearing as we did the same
uniform, eating at the same table, and sleeping in an immense hall,
whose arches, columns, and melancholy lamps, suspended at intervals, I
can see before me still.
"I enjoy recalling this epoch of our first literary utterance
(_vagido_), and I say _our_, for when he was but ten years old and I
eleven, we composed and presented in the aforesaid school (San Telmo)
a fearful and extravagant drama, which, if my memory serves me right,
was entitled Los _Conjurados_ ('The Conspirators'). We likewise began
a novel. I wonder at the confidence with which these two children, so
ignorant in all respects, launched forth upon the two literary lines
that require most knowledge of man, society, and life. The time was
yet to come when by dint of painful struggles and hard trials they
should possess that knowledge, as difficult to gain as it is
bitter!"[1]
[Footnote 1: Article on Gustavo Adolfo Becquer, by Narciso Campillo,
in La Ilustracion Artistica, pp. 358-360]
Shortly after the matriculation of young Becquer, the College of San
Telmo was suppressed by royal orders, and the lad found himself in the
streets. He was then received into the home of his godmother, Dona
Manuela Monchay, who was a woman of kind heart and much intelligence.
She possessed a fair library, which was put at the disposal of the
boy; and here he gratified his love for reading, and perfected his
literary taste. Two works that had considerable influence upon him at
this time were the Odes of Horace, translated by P. Urbano Campos, and
the poems of Zorrilla. He began to write verses of his own, but these
he later burned.
"In 1849," says Senor Campillo, "there were two noteworthy painters in
Seville, whose studios were open to and frequented by numerous
students, future rivals, each in his own imagination, of the glories
of Velasquez and Murillo. One of these studios, situated in the same
building as the Museo de Pinturas, was that of D. Antonio Cabral
Bejarano, a man not to be forgotten for his talent, and perhaps also
for his wit, the delight of those who knew him. The other, situated in
an upper room of the Moorish _alcazar de Abdelasis_, near the patio
_de Banderas_, was directed by D. Joaquin Dominguez Becquer, a brother
and disciple of D. Jose, Gustavo's father."[1]
[Footnote 1: Narciso Campillo, _loc_. cit.]
In spite of this relationship, Gustavo Adolfo, at the age of fourteen,
entered the studio of Bejarano. There he remained for two years,
practicing the art of drawing, for which he had a natural talent. He
then came under the instruction of his uncle, who, judging that his
nephew was even better qualified for a literary than for an artistic
career, advised him to follow the former, and procured for him a few
Latin lessons. Meanwhile Gustavo continued to enlarge his poetical
horizon by reading from the great poets and by the contemplation of
the beauties of nature. With his friend Campillo he composed the first
three cantos of a poem entitled La _Conquista de Sevilla_, and with
him he wandered about the beautiful city of his birth and dreamed such
dreams as the one with which this Introduction begins.
Gustavo's godmother, who was a woman in easy circumstances and without
children or near relatives, would doubtless have bequeathed to him her
property had he fulfilled her wishes and settled down to an honorable
mercantile life. But the child, who had learned to draw and to compose
almost before he could write, and who had always paled before the
simplest problem of arithmetic, could not reconcile himself to such a
life. The artist within him rebelled, and at the age of seventeen and
a half, feeling the attraction of the capital strong upon him, he bade
farewell to the friends of his youth and set out to seek for fame and
fortune. It was in the autumn of 1854 that Becquer arrived in Madrid,
"with empty pockets, but with a head full of treasures that were not,
alas, to enrich him." Here he encountered an indifference that he had
not dreamed of; and here he remained in the shadow of oblivion, eking
out a miserable existence of physical as well as mental suffering, in
utter loneliness of spirit, until he was joined in 1856 by one who
came to be his lifelong friend and first biographer--Ramon Rodriguez
Correa, who had come to the capital with the same aims as Becquer, and
whose robust health and jovial temperament appealed singularly to the
sad and ailing dreamer. The new-found friend proved indeed a godsend,
for when, in 1857, Gustavo was suffering from a terrible illness,
Correa, while attending him, chanced to fall upon a writing entitled
_El caudillo de las manos rojas, tradicion india_. Charmed by its
originality in form and conception, he urged his friend to publish it.
Becquer acquiesced, and the story was accepted and published by La
_Cronica_. The joy of this first success, and perhaps the material aid
that resulted, must have had a great deal to do with Gustavo's speedy
recovery.
A short time after this he entered with his friend Correa the office
of the _Direccion de Bienes Nacionales_ as copyist, at the munificent
salary of some $150 a year. The employment was decidedly contrary to
his taste, and to amuse his tedium he used often to sketch or read
from his favorite poets. One day, as he was busy sketching, the
Director entered, and, seeing a group about Gustavo's chair,--for the
young artist's sketches were eagerly awaited and claimed by his
admiring associates,--stole up from behind and asked, "What is this?"
Gustavo, suspecting nothing, went on with his sketch, and answered in
a natural tone, "This is Ophelia, plucking the leaves from her
garland. That old codger is a grave-digger. Over there..." At this,
noticing that every one had risen, and that universal silence reigned,
Becquer slowly turned his head. "Here is one too many," said the
Director, and the artist was dismissed that very day.
It cannot be said that he received the news of his dismissal
regretfully, for he had accepted the position largely to please a
sympathetic friend. Slight as was the remuneration, however, it had
aided him to live; and when this resource was removed, Gustavo was
again obliged to depend upon his wits. His skill with the brush served
him in good stead at this time, and he earned a little money by aiding
a painter who had been employed by the Marquis of Remisa to decorate
his palace, but who could not do the figures in the fresco.
In 1857, together with other _litterateurs_, Becquer undertook the
preparation and direction of a work entitled _Historia de los Temples
de Espana_.[1] Like so many of the author's plans, this work remained
unfinished; but from the single volume that appeared can be seen how
vast was the scope of the work, and how scholarly its execution.
Gustavo is himself the author of some of the best pages contained in
the volume, as, for example, those of the Introduction and of the
chapters on _San Juan de los_ Reyes. He is likewise the author of many
of the excellent sketches that adorn the work, notably that of the
_portada_. These sketches, as well as others published elsewhere, show
how eminent his work as artist would have been, had he decided to
cultivate that field instead of literature.
[Footnote 1: The complete title of the work is _Historia de los
Templos de Espana, publicada bajo la proteccion de SS. MM. AA. y muy
reverendos senores arzobispos y obispos--dirigida por D. Juan de la
Puerta Vizcaino y D. Gustavo Adolfo Becquer. Tomo I, Madrid, 1857.
Imprenta y Estereotipia Espanola de los Senores Nieto y Compania._]
Essentially an artist in temperament, he viewed all things from the
artist's standpoint. His distaste for politics was strong, and his
lack of interest in political intrigues was profound. "His artistic
soul, nurtured in the illustrious literary school of Seville," says
Correa, "and developed amidst Gothic Cathedrals, lacy Moorish and
stained-glass windows, was at ease only in the field of tradition. He
felt at home in a complete civilization, like that of the Middle Ages,
and his artisticopolitical ideas and his fear of the ignorant crowd
made him regard with marked predilection all that was aristocratic and
historic, without however refusing, in his quick intelligence, to
recognize the wonderful character of the epoch in which he lived.
Indolent, moreover, in small things,--and for him political parties
were small things,--he was always to be found in the one in which were
most of his friends, and in which they talked most of pictures,
poetry, cathedrals, kings, and nobles. Incapable of hatred, he never
placed his remarkable talent as a writer at the service of political
animosities, however certain might have been his gains."[1]
[Footnote 1: Ramon Rodriguez Correa, _Prologo_, in _Obras de
Becquer_, vol. I, xvi.]
Early in his life in Madrid, Gustavo came under the influence of a
charming young woman, Julia Espin y Guillen.[1] Her father was
director of the orchestra in the Teatro Real, and his home was a
rendezvous of young musicians, artists, and _litterateurs_. There
Gustavo, with Correa, Manuel del Palacio, Augusto Ferran, and other
friends, used to gather for musical and literary evenings, and there
Gustavo used to read his verses. These he would bring written on odd
scraps of paper, and often upon calling cards, in his usual careless
fashion.