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AN ESSAY 
 
 UPON THE 
 
 LIFE AND DRAMATIC WORKS 
 
 OP 
 
 DR. JUAN PEREZ DE MONTALVAN 
 
 THESIS 
 
 Presented to the Faculty of the Department op Philosophy of 
 
 THE University of Pennsylvania in Partial Fulfilment 
 
 of the Requirements for the Degree op Doctor 
 
 OF Philosophy 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE WILLIAM BACON 
 
 ■ or TME 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 1903 
 

 Mist OF 
 
 The New Era Prirtins Commrv, 
 Larcaiter, Pa. 
 
Prefatoey Note. 
 
 The principle of divisioD into four different classes of the 
 plays hereinafter examined — i. e., Comedias heroicaSj Comedias 
 de Capa y Espada, Comedias de Santos and Comedias devotas — 
 is based upon those definitions given by Ticknor, Vol. II., pp. 
 218, 207 and 247 respectively. The distinction between the 
 Auto sacramental and the Comedia devota or Comedia de Santos, 
 is well drawn by Fitzmaurice-Kelly, p. 441. 
 
 The present dissertation is extracted from a more voluminous 
 work that I have prepared on forty of the dramas of Mon- 
 talvan, and which I intend publishing in book form at no dis- 
 tant day. 
 
 I take this opportunity to express my appreciation of the 
 courtesy of my esteemed Professor, Dr. Hugo Albert Rennert, 
 not only in kindly assisting me in the revision of the proofs, 
 but also in loaning me several rare and valuable works. 
 
 pa 
 F3 
 
 117710 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Part I. page. 
 Life and Works of the Author 1 
 
 Part II. 
 Style 5 
 
 Part III. 
 Analysis of Plays 
 
 (a) Comedias heroicas. 
 
 1. El Keynar para Morir 14 
 
 2. El Segundo Seneca de Espana 17 
 
 (6) Comedias de Capa y Espada. 
 
 1. Como Amante y como Honrada' 21 
 
 2. De un Castigo dos Venganzas 27 
 
 (c) Comedia de Santos. 
 
 1. Santo Domingo en Soriano 32 
 
 (d) Comedia devota. 
 
 1 . Escanderbech .36 
 
 Part IV. 
 
 Criticism 
 
 (a) Comedias heroicas. 
 
 1. El Eeynar para Morir 38 
 
 2. El Segundo Seneca de Espana 38 
 
 (b) Comedias de Capa y Espada. 
 
 1. Como Amante y como Honrada 41 
 
 2. De un Castigo dos Venganzas 41 
 
 (c) Comedia de Santos. 
 
 1. Santo Domingo en Soriano 43 
 
 (d) Comedia devota. 
 
 1. Escanderbech 44 
 
 Part V. 
 
 List of Full Titles of Works Quoted in Abbreviations in 
 the Foot-notes and Text 46 
 
 V 
 
DR. JUAN PEREZ DE MON'JAlS^^r^ 
 
 I. Life and Works. 
 
 Doctor Juan Perez de Montalvan was born at Madrid in 
 1602. His father, Alonso Perez, was the King's book-seller, 
 and had a shop in the Calle de Santiago} After studying with 
 great success the Humanities, Philosophy and Theology at the 
 University of Alcald de Henares, Montalvan became Licentiate 
 in 1620. The same year, he took part in the poetical contest 
 which was celebrated at Madrid in honor of St. Isidro, and 
 presided over by Lope de Vega. So meritorious was his work 
 that, with Lope's assent, he carried off one of the prizes that 
 were there offered. Soon after, he took the degree of Doctor 
 of Divinity, and on May 13, 1625, was ordained Priest in the 
 Congregation of St. Peter, and became apostolic notary of the 
 tribunal of the Inquisition. A rich merchant of Peru, who had 
 never seen him, sent him the same year a pension, as his 
 private chaplain, to pray for him in Madrid — all out of admi- 
 ration for his genius and writings. 
 
 In 1619, he began to write for the stage, under the guidance 
 of Lope de Vega, who had some years before conceived for 
 him a very lively affection. As Alonso Perez was by privilege 
 the editor of Lope's works. Lope must early have become ac- 
 quainted with his son, and the friendship became a lasting 
 one. In 1624, he published a poem entitled : ^^ El Orfeo en 
 lengua castellana/^ dedicated to the celebrated Portuguese 
 poetess, Bernarda Ferreira de la Cerda. It was preceded by 
 a remarkable panegyric letter written by Lope, and some think, 
 indeed, that he was the author of the poem as well, and wrote 
 it to present his pupil worthily in the literary arena.^ In the 
 
 ^ Quevedo asserts that he was previously engaged in the same business af 
 Alcala de Henares. (Barrera, p. 264, note.) 
 2 On this question, vid. Barrera, p. 264. 
 
 (1) 
 
(2) 
 
 same year appeared his eight novels, ^^Sucesos y Prodigios de 
 AmoVy^ which saw twelve editions, beside a French translation. 
 These were followed, in 1627, by a small work on: "Xa 
 Vida y Purgatomo de San Patrioio/^ — often reprinted and 
 translated, — and, in 1632, by the famous ^^Para Todos/^ sl mis- 
 cellany of " Ciendas, materias y facultades, ejemplos moraleSy 
 humanos y divinos/^ containing, besides, four Comedias and two 
 Autos sacrametvtales of the same author. The publication of 
 this book, which ran through twelve editions, occasioned the 
 most bitter literary battle, in which were exchanged — both in 
 print and manuscript, prose and verse — satires and apologies, 
 censures and defenses. The combat was begun by Francisco 
 de Quevedo, of whom we shall have occasion to speak later. 
 
 On August 21, 1635, four days after the date of the tasa of 
 the first volume of his dramatic works, our author lost, by 
 death, his friend and master. Lope. Previous to this time the 
 first germs of insanity had become implanted in Montalvan, 
 being occasioned by his excessive study and literary labors, 
 and now, hastened by his great loss, the terrible disease began 
 to show itself. Under its influence, he published, in 1636, an 
 extravagant panegyric on Lope, entitled : "jPama pdstuma d la 
 vida y muerU de Lope de Vega Carpio ; y dogios panegiricos d 
 la inmortalidad de su nombreJ^ This work consists of a biog- 
 raphy of the playwright, and various poems written in his 
 honor by over a hundred and fifty of his contemporaries. 
 
 Soon after this, his malady became aggravated, and he lost 
 his reason completely. After lingering some months in this 
 miserable condition, death mercifully came to him on the 
 twenty-fifth of June, 1638.^ A splendid funeral was given 
 
 * Ticknor, vol. 11. , p. 314, note 30, says : *' From the ^Deeimas ' of Calderon 
 in this volume," i. e., the '^Ldgrimas panegfricas,^^ etc., vid. the next para- 
 graph in the text above, ** (f. 12), I infer that Montalvan had two attacks 
 of paralysis, and died a very gentle death." The lines alluded to run as 
 follows : 
 
 No furioso frenesi, 
 No delirio riguroso 
 Su animo turbd piadoso, 
 Un blando letargo si, 
 
(3) 
 
 him, the orators being the Brother Diego Niseno and Doctor 
 Francisco de Quintana, and he was interred in the parish of 
 San Miguel, which to-day no longer exists.^ 
 
 The inevitable eulogy now followed, and the next year, 
 1639, one of his friends, Pedro Grande de Tena, published 
 — as Montalvan had done for Lope — a large number of 
 pieces by a hundred and seventy-five authors, known and un- 
 known, of his time. To this collection he gave the name : 
 ^^Lagrimas Panegiricas d la Tenprana Muerte del Gran Poeta, 
 i Teologo Insigne, Doctor Juan Perez de Montalhan, Clerigo 
 Presbitero, i Notario de la Santa Inquisidony Natural de la 
 Inperial Villa de MadridJ' ^ 
 
 But as Montalvan had his admirers, so he had his enemies. 
 The most bitter of them all was Quevedo. The enmity was 
 caused in part, perhaps, by the father of Montalvan pirating 
 the " Buscon " of Quevedo as soon as it had appeared at Zara- 
 goza in 1626.^ Quevedo was of course furious, and took ven- 
 
 Para mostrarnos assi 
 Quanto la muerte sebera 
 Sintio que se deshiziera 
 Tanto sujeto, y llego 
 De dos vezes, porque no 
 Se atrevio de la primera. 
 They would seem to admit such an interpretation as Ticknor gives them. 
 1 Vid. Barrera, p. 264 ; Ticknor, 1. c, p. 313 ; Schack, vol. III., p. 372 ; 
 Fitzmaurice-Kelly, p. 417. 
 
 ' I possess a copy of this rare and curious book. A good description of it 
 is found in Gallardo, vol. III., col. 118 ff., so I shall only supplement here 
 the information which is given in that place. The poems contained therein 
 are most varied in style, including the Sonnet, Sapphic Elegy, Decima, Glossa, 
 Epigram, Octave, Canzone, Epicede, Monody, Dialogism, Lyric, Acrostic, 
 Dialogued Sonnet, Silva, Funeral Elegy, Romance, Madrigal, Endecha, Elegiac 
 Bomance, Epitaph, and Tercet. The majority of these are written, of course, 
 in Spanish, though specimens in Latin are by no means lacking. They offer 
 no great interest, and are, on the whole, insufferably tedious, owing to the oft- 
 repeated and extravagant eulogies they contain. The remainder of the vol- 
 ume is occupied by the two funeral orations, that of Niseno extending over 
 thirty-four folios, and a treatise on poetry, which occupies eighteen folios. 
 
 3Cf. Merimee, pp. 107 and 150, note 1 ; Fitzmaurice-Kelly, p. 418. Tick- 
 nor, 1. c, p. 321, note, states that the pirated work was the '^ Politica de 
 Dios.'^ Previous to this, however, Quevedo had a grudge against Montalvan, 
 
(4) 
 
 geance upon the book-seller in the courts. This only added 
 fuel to the fire, and the Montalvans hit back by taking a hand, 
 with Fray Niseno, in causing a prohibition of his works to 
 be made by the Inquisition in 1 63 1 .^ When the " Para Todos " 
 appeared in 1632, Quevedo eagerly seized the opportunity for 
 squaring himself, and ridiculed this melange in a vicious satire en- 
 titled : " La Perinola/' i. e., " The Tetotum," which passed about 
 in manuscript with great applause.^ But Montalvan was not 
 to remain unavenged, for, in reply, his friends launched against 
 Quevedo a most insolent libel called : " El Tribunal de la Justa 
 Venganza,^^ which appeared at Valencia in 1635.^ Three years 
 later Montalvan died, and as Quevedo had predicted that his 
 
 as is shown by the sarcastic ''^ Carta consolatoria^^ sent to our author after 
 one of his plays had been hissed. Vid. Kivadeneyra, vol. 45, p. xxxi ; 
 M^rim^e, p. 350, note 2 ; Ticknor, 1. c, p. 321. It is inserted in the " Don 
 Diego de Noche^^ of Salas Barbadillo, which was printed in 1623, and indeed 
 some think the latter was the author. An amusing anecdote concerning 
 Quevedo and Montalvan is related by Schack, 1. c, p. 374, note, and a de- 
 tailed account of the quarrel between them is given in Kivadeneyra, vol. 48, 
 p. 463 ff., note. 
 
 1 Ticknor, 1. c, p. 292, note 36 ; Barrera, p. 265. 
 
 ' Barrera, ib. An account of the contents of this libel is given by Schack, 
 1. c, p. 374 £f., and M^rim^e, p. 349 ff. Manuscript copies of it are not 
 infrequent. I have examined the one in the Library of the University of 
 Pennsylvania. It is apparently of about the middle of the seventeenth cen- 
 tury, and consists of twenty-one folios. The attack first found its way into 
 print in 1788. It may be conveniently read in Rivadeneyra, vol. 48, pp. 
 463-478. A list of editions is given on p. 465, note. There seems to be 
 nothing in the ^^ Para Todos" to warrant Quevedo in writing such a pam- 
 phlet. 
 
 'Ticknor, 1. c, p. 292, note 36. The question of authorship is discussed 
 by M^rim^e, p. 108 ff. Montalvan was always much bantered for his aristo- 
 cratic airs, and Fitzmaurice-Kelly, p. 417, quotes some amusing satirical 
 verses written by Quevedo on this theme. Cf. also M^rim^e, p. 349, note 1. 
 I cannot do more here than merely allude to Quevedo' s absurd mistake in 
 confounding Francisco de la Torre with one Alfonso de la Torre, who lived 
 about two centuries before. That I should mention it at all is due to the fact 
 that Montalvan was the indirect cause of Quevedo' s error remaining uncor- 
 rected by Lope de Vega. Vid. Fitzmaurice-Kelly, p. 255 ff. M^rim^e, 
 however, (p. 316 ff. ), does not accept Francisco de la Torre as the author of 
 the poems edited by Quevedo, and suggests that the real author may have 
 been Francisco de Figueroa. 
 
(5) 
 
 enemy would die insane, he had the satisfaction of seeing his 
 prophecy fulfilled, since he himself lived till 1645.^ 
 
 The dramatic works of our author were published in two 
 volumes, each containing twelve plays.^ The first edition ap- 
 peared at Madrid in 1635,-^ and the second at Valencia in 1652. 
 Besides the twenty-four plays which the original edition con- 
 tains, there are many sueltas,'^ and also several pieces in which 
 Montalvan was a joint author with others.^ 
 
 Although almost all his works were received by the public 
 with the greatest favor, as is proved by the many editions 
 through which they passed, yet our author's chief success was 
 on the stage. Here his popularity was so great that the book- 
 sellers found it to be to their interest to print under his name 
 many plays of various other dramatists. Such action, of course, 
 displeased him not a little, and brought forth loud complaints in 
 the " Para Todos " and in the preface to the first volume of 
 the plays.® 
 
 II. Style. 
 
 Don Joseph Pellicer de Tobar Abarca, a friend of Montal- 
 van, in a short essay entitled : " Idea de la Comedia de Castillaj 
 Deduzida de las Obras del Doctor Juan Perez de Montalvan/^ ^ 
 gives an interesting contemporary criticism of the dramatic 
 work of our author. Before expressing my own judgment in 
 regard to his capabilities as a playwright, I shall give, as briefly 
 as possible, the gist of Pellicer's essay. 
 
 ^ It is not surprising that Quevedo is missing among the eulogists of the 
 ' * Ldgrimas panegiricas ' ' / 
 
 2 For the titles, vid. Barrera, p. 267. 
 
 sSalva, vol. I., p. 479 ; Zeitschrift, vol. XV., p. 220. 
 
 * Barrera, p. 268, gives the titles of thirty-three of these, while Rivade- 
 neyra, vol. 45, p. liv, gives forty-seven titles. 
 
 5 The titles of these are given by Barrera, p. 268. Schack, 1. c, p. 373, 
 states that the total number of our author's dramatic productions was about 
 one hundli-ed, but this is probably an exaggeration. Ticknor, 1. c, p. 315, 
 gives the number as about sixty, and he is probably nearer the truth. 
 
 ^Ticknor, 1. c, p. 315, and note. It is interesting to note that Lope's 
 ^^ Sin Seereto no hay Amor^' was among the pieces wrongly attributed to 
 Montalvan. 
 
 ^This forms part of the " Ldgrimas 'panegiricas,^^ £F. 147-152. 
 
(6) 
 
 Starting with the definition of drama as an action which 
 teaches to imitate the good and avoid the bad — thereby at- 
 tributing to it a serious moral purpose — he states that Mon- 
 talvan always observed this principle strictly in his plays. In 
 a style all his own, energetic and elBScacious, he exalted virtue 
 and decried vice so earnestly that his hearers were influenced 
 to follow his example. He knew how to accommodate himself 
 to the subject which he was treating, and avoided introducing 
 anything incongruous therein. So thoroughly did he throw 
 himself into the spirit of the scene that he was writing, 
 that it appeared life-like and real, instead of artificial. Re- 
 garding legends, rites and ancient ceremonies as unintel- 
 ligible to the majority of his auditors, so ignorant were 
 they, he avoided alluding to them. In his love scenes he 
 observed such decorum that he never overstepped the bounds 
 of propriety. Rarely did he choose historical or idealistic 
 subjects, for in employing them an author must use discre- 
 tion, since numerous occurrences, either actual or fanciful, are 
 debarred from the stage. Such are the seditions of vassals, 
 the cruelties of rulers towards their subjects, and the private 
 life of great persons. He avoided the representation of per- 
 sonages still alive in his time. The theme of jealousy — indis- 
 pensable to every play — was always for him of the first 
 importance. In the plots of his pieces he showed marvelous 
 artifice, and involved them so skilfully that the solution could 
 not be foreseen until after the opening of the second scene of 
 the third act. In those plays which were of involved plot he 
 used a simple style, and, on the contrary, when the plot was 
 weak, he supplied the deficiency by the excellence of his writ- 
 ing. Knowing that the action ought not to be longer than 
 twenty-four hours, he observed this rule in the majority of his 
 plays, and in those in which he violated it, it was due only to 
 the demand of custom. To each of the three scenes in each act 
 he gave three hundred verses,^ and never left the stage unoccu- 
 
 ^Ticknor, 1. c, p. 321, in speaking of this canon, commits an amusing 
 error. He says: [Montalvan] "limited each of the three divisions of his 
 
(7) 
 
 pied if he could avoid it. A good dramatist should possess 
 some knowledge of all subjects/ and the reader of Mental van's 
 plays will find that he fulfills this requirement. 
 
 How one would wish that all the above enthusiastic appre- 
 ciation of Montalvan's dramatic work might be accepted as 
 truth ! But unfortunately Pellicer is a eulogist, blind to his 
 friend's defects, and exception must be taken to more than one 
 of his assertions. 
 
 In the first place, Montalvan's style is generally far from the 
 " energetic and efficacious " one that Pellicer would have us 
 believe. So devoid was he by nature of moving and powerful 
 poetic inspiration that, as a rule, those passages in which he 
 endeavors to enrapture the hearer by dint of would-be fire and 
 vigor, frequently descend into mere hollow rhetoric and empty 
 bombast. As to his not introducing the incongruous, what could 
 be more so, for example, than the gradoso role in " Olympa y 
 fireno " or ^^Los Amantes de Teruel '' f Far from being able to 
 throw himself into the spirit of a scene, — thereby avoiding arti- 
 ficiality, — Montalvan possessed a genius so lacking in energy 
 that generally he was incapable of infusing life into the matter 
 he handled. That he was averse to choosing historical subjects 
 is disproved by a reference to note 1, page 8, wherein the ques- 
 tion of his originality in subject-matter is discussed. Pellicer's 
 statement regarding his " marvelous artifice " in plot-construc- 
 tion is as amusing as it is incorrect, for the majority of his 
 plays suffer from a lack of solidity. They may be said to re- 
 semble a series of different scenes, which, even if they individ- 
 
 fuU-length dramas to three hundred lines. ..." One would certainly infer 
 that by the word "divisions" Ticknor means " acts," since the plays of that 
 period are based on a three-act division. According to this, each act would 
 consist of only three hundred lines ! Quite on the contrary, however, each of 
 the three scenes into which the act is divided comprises three hundred lines, 
 making a total of nine hundred lines for each act. Pellicer' s own words are 
 as follows : "Cada lornada deve constar de tres Scenas .... A cada Scena 
 dava MoNTALBAN trescientos Versos, . . . ." 
 
 ^ I am warranted in epitomizing Pellicer' s lengthy exposition in these 
 startling terms, since the list of subjects in which he would have the play- 
 wright versed runs from theology to navigation ! 
 
(8) 
 
 ually seize the attention, lack unity and aim, and accordingly 
 make a weak and superficial impression. 
 
 But Montalvan has still other defects, which must be ex- 
 posed, much as the critic would wish, for his credit, to pass 
 them by. One of the most glaring of these is his lack of origi- 
 nality. His versatile talent was not original or fresh enough to 
 create a field in which he might work as his own ; in other 
 words his genius was not creative but adaptive.^ Indeed, to 
 such an extent did he allow himself to be influenced, now by 
 this motif, now by that, that very often his plays recall previous 
 productions. Lope de Vega is, of course, his chief model, but 
 Tirso de Molina has also exercised a visible influence upon 
 him. In one play, " El Segundo Seneca de Espana/' he has 
 followed Enciso.^ 
 
 It were surely no disgrace for Montalvan to have looked up 
 to Lope as a model, but one would wish that he had followed 
 him with more exactness and earnestness. It was the fecundity , 
 however, of his master which most he appreciated, and accord- 
 ingly he tried to rival him in the number of his productions. 
 But that were most dangerous, for as Schack^ well says, ^' the 
 Prodigy of Nature,'' i. e.. Lope, "was the only one who 
 could be both polygraph and true poet at the same time." 
 
 Very naturally Montalvan failed in his design, and, in mak- 
 ing such an attempt, ruined the greater part of his work. I say 
 " ruined," because the great majority of his plays suffer from 
 being written too hurriedly ; the blot appears almost everywhere, 
 irrespective of the subject treated. Too often, he writes super- 
 ficially, cursorily, without the proper concentration of his facul- 
 ties, and devoid of a fitting*sense of artistic perfection. Only 
 
 ^ The correctness of this statement is proved by an examination of the 
 forty plays which I have read. Out of a total of twenty-five Comeduis heroi- 
 cas, fourteen are not original in source, six of the number being based on 
 actual historical events. In the Capa y Espada class we have a better evidence 
 of originality, for there, six out of a total of eight are apparently of Montal- 
 van' s own invention. The religious plays I do not take into account at all, 
 for they are of necessity derivatives. 
 
 2SchaefFer, vol. I., p. 442. 
 
 3L. c, p. 378. 
 
(9) 
 
 in exceptional cases is his work seriously thought out, and 
 executed with care. How much better had it been, had he 
 tried to become acquainted with the beauties of his model, and 
 striven to appropriate them ; to perfect his own faculties, and 
 to infuse into his productions that artistic fullness which was 
 Lope's by nature. 
 
 Another serious defect is monotony. This is due, in great 
 part, to the repeated employment of certain dramatic stock 
 themes in the plot-construction. Pellicer, himself, remarks that 
 the subject of jealousy, " indispensable to every play," was 
 always of the first importance to Montalvan. But this is not 
 by any means the only motif employed.^ Add to the tedium 
 arising from this source, that occasioned by the general same- 
 ness of the typical characters. Again and again, we have 
 the singularly stupid and easily duped father — the mother is 
 very rarely mentioned ; the forward and deceitful daughter ; 
 her jealous and intriguing friend — usually her rival in love ; 
 the gay gallant ; the impudent, familiar and easily bribed ser- 
 vant ; and the inhuman villain. There is not much variation 
 to be seen at any time in this monotonous and uninteresting 
 gallery of time-worn portraits. 
 
 Culteranismo, the plague which played such havoc with the 
 litterateurs of the time, numbered our author among its many 
 victims.^ It is very amusing, therefore, when in the preface to 
 
 ^ The other principal ones are these : Persons of high rank going about in- 
 cognito (occurs in five plays) ; royal child sent away from home to avoid the 
 cruelty of the stepmother (two plays) ; duels (nine plays) ; a dream used to 
 disclose something before unknown (five plays) ; invading with an army the 
 heroine's country owing to having been rejected by her (two plays) ; two 
 children at first supposed to be brother and sister, later found to be no rela- 
 tion (three plays) ; assumed names (six plays) ; the master-key (four 
 plays) ; a conversation overheard intentionally or accidentally (seven plays); 
 disguises (eight plays) ; mistaken identities (nine plays). I do not claim 
 to have exhausted the whole number of instances of these different motifs. 
 I have merely given sufficient examples to show with what frequency they 
 are employed. 
 
 2 The principal symptoms of this literary disease are given by SchaefFer, 
 1. c, p. 7. Calderon is responsible for the introduction of culteranismo into the 
 drama, but one is half -inclined to pardon him, in consideration of what he has 
 done for the stage in freeing it from the carelessness of Lope. 
 
(10) 
 
 the first volume of his plays, after announcing his intention of 
 avoiding the use of the incomprehensible language and other 
 extravagances of his contemporaries, he declares that those who 
 censure this practice are the very ones who make use of it ! 
 But as the defect is peculiar to the time, and not to the man, 
 one must not visit upon him too harsh a censure. Indeed 
 much of the popularity which several of his plays enjoyed was 
 due mainly to the long, rhetorical speeches which were inserted 
 at every opportunity, and pleased both auditors and actors. 
 To the artistic sensibilities of those of the present day these 
 same passages are exceedingly offensive, for the meaningless 
 verbosity and hollow bombast are tedious beyond measure.^ 
 
 It should be remarked that many of the plays are stronger in 
 the first two acts than in the third, for towards the end there is 
 not infrequently a great falling off in the dramatic interest. I 
 think that this is due, in great part, to the subject-matter be- 
 ing insufficient for the play which is constructed out of it. To 
 supply this deficiency " padding ^' of all kinds is resorted to, 
 and the gradoso is then looked to for his share. ^ 
 
 Montalvan's redeeming virtues may thus be described. He 
 has a keen eye for a dramatic situation and the value of a popu- 
 lar story, and sometimes shows real cleverness in constructing 
 quite a fair play out of very simple material.* At rare intervals 
 we come upon a real poetic passage, and indeed this very rarity 
 vexes us in that it degenerates so soon into mere rhetoric. The 
 drawing of character is very unequal, and while striking at times, 
 it is, as a rule, only mediocre. His skillful delineation of women, 
 however, shows that he possessed such a good knowledge of the 
 feminine temperament that he might almost be accorded a place 
 
 ^ As brief specimens of Montal van's culteranismo, these may be given : Esta 
 68 concha de una perla que adoro," uttered by a gallant in reference to the 
 dwelling of his loved one. An army of Ethiopians is described as " Un 
 arroyo de carbon, un mar de tinta." 
 
 2 Pellicer declares, with evident pride, that where the plot was weak Mon- 
 tal van made reparation by the "excellence of his writing." To the critic 
 of to-day the correctness of this statement seems rather doubtful. 
 
 ^*'El Principe prodigioso y Defensor de la i^e" and ^'Eldivino Nazareno 
 Sanson'^ may be cited as examples. 
 
(11) 
 
 second to Ovid, than whom none was superior in this respect. 
 This admirable trait he derived in a great measure from his 
 master, Lope, whose female characters are living beings in com- 
 parison with the artificial creations of Calderon. Tirso de Molina 
 has also suggested to him certain types. In the religious pieces 
 he ventured to differ from Lope, in order to give to them the 
 popular character which the latter had sacrificed in his allegorical 
 moralities. But they are dismal failures. It is in the plays of 
 intrigue that, on the whole, he is at his best, but there we must 
 close our eyes to improbability. The critic is forced to admit 
 that the defects of our author so outclass his merits that he can 
 be placed no higher than the second rank of the old Spanish 
 playwrights. 
 
 Concerning Montalvan's system of versification a detailed 
 account is given by Pellicer.^ He says that in the Tragic style 
 he made use of Octaves, Canzones, Silvas and Romanees, in 
 place of the more usual Tercets, the employment of which in this 
 style had been introduced by Garcilaso.'^ In the Lyric style 
 he made use of DedmaSy Endechas, LiraSj QuebradoSy Glossas 
 and Sonnets.^ To these he sometimes added the Romance, as 
 a metre suited to all styles. In the Heroic style he employed 
 the Octave, Canzone, Silva and Romance. On account of 
 their hardness he excluded the Esdruxulos^ — the dactylic 
 measure — and blank verse, but not the Coplas de Arte mayor. ^ 
 The Redondillas and Quintillas ^ he used only to involve the 
 plot — i. e.y they were employed only in the narrative part in 
 which the plot is developed. 
 
 These theories are, however, not our author^ s original prop- 
 erty, but merely repetitions of Lope's precepts in the " Arte 
 
 iL. c.,f. 148. 
 
 2 Definitions of these measures are given by Kengifo on pages 91, 108, 58 
 and 59 respectively. 
 
 3Vid. ib., pp. 37, 67, 89, 17, 72 and 95, respectively. 
 
 *Vid. ib.,p. 20. 
 
 6Vid. ib., p. 82. 
 
 «Vid. ib., p. 32 ff. 
 
 '' Fitzmaurice-Kelly, p. 418. 
 
(12) 
 
 More than one passage in Montalvan's plays recalls in thought 
 and tone the works of Ovid, even though an exact resemblance 
 between them cannot be found. A passage thoroughly O vid- 
 ian in flavor is the speech of Estela in Act II. of " No hay 
 Vida como la Honra/^ in which she endeavors to induce Fer- 
 nando to transfer his affections to her from Leonor in order 
 that the latter may be left free to marry Carlos.^ One can 
 easily imagine that such a sentiment might have proceeded 
 from the pen of the author of the " Bemedia Amoris/' and, 
 indeed, it is the very same idea that is expressed in the first five 
 lines of Estela's speech that forms the theme of 11. 315-340 
 of the Latin poem just mentioned. Here Ovid gives precepts 
 to the lover who wishes to forget his mistress. Other exam- 
 ples of a more or less close similarity between the pagan author 
 and ours might be given. Perhaps they are merely acciden- 
 tal, but it is not at all unlikely that Montalvan was acquainted 
 with Ovid's works, for he knew Latin. 
 
 The pointed, epigrammatic style of many lines in our author, 
 and also their pungent, sarcastic tone smack much of the caustic 
 spirit of the Latin satirist, Juvenal. In one case that I have 
 observed, the parallelism is so close that perhaps we have an 
 intentional imitation. In "Jlmor, Privanza y Castigo/^ Act II., 
 Drusus speaking of Sejanus as a flatterer says : 
 
 » The opening lines run as follows : 
 
 [sc. Puedes olvidarte de Leonor en] 
 
 Imaginando 
 Imperfecciones ; que cuando 
 Llega a pensar el amor 
 Fealdades, ya estd vecino 
 A no ser amor ; y asl, 
 Por agradarte de mf, 
 Puedes tambien de camino 
 Pensar que soy la mujer 
 Mas bella del mundo ; mira 
 Alaba, encarece, admira, 
 Aunque sea sin querer, 
 La hennosura de mi boca ; 
 
(13) 
 
 " Si se rie, se rie, aunque no quiera, 
 si llora, tambien llora, que parece 
 que tiene las passiones en las manos." 
 
 Compare this with Juvenal, Satire III., 11. 100 and 101. 
 
 "... Rides, majore cachinno 
 Concutitur ; flet, si lacrimas conspexit amici. 
 Nee dolet." 
 
 The resemblance is striking. 
 
 We have an echo of Juvenal in idea, if not in words, in the 
 speech of Monzon in Act I. of " La Doncella de Labor/^ be- 
 ginning : 
 
 " Que si la muerte 
 Presurosa no tuviera," 
 
 Here he upholds the advantages of a sudden death, without 
 the decedent's having made a will, by depicting the dying man, 
 who, having made his last testament, is surrounded by his pros- 
 pective heirs, who are vexed that death should be so slow in 
 coming to him. The passage abounds in sarcasm and may be 
 compared with Juvenal, Satire I., 11. 145 and 146,^ where he is 
 speaking of a man who has died intestate, and whose friends are 
 angry that they have been left nothing. 
 
 To criticise Montalvan's work fairly is not an easy task, for 
 one must place himself in the time and atmosphere in which 
 he lived, if he would judge him justly. He was a real child of 
 his time, and was swayed wholly by the taste of the period. 
 What was then applauded in a drama would now probably be 
 hissed, so utterly have the standards of dramatic perfection been 
 transformed. His defects, then, are more typical of the time 
 than of himself. For us, however, he is an aggravating writer, 
 in that he, as Fitzmaurice-Kelly ^ says even of Lope, con- 
 stantly approaches perfection without ever quite attaining it. 
 
 ^ It nova, nee tristis, per cunctas fabula coenas, 
 Ducitur iratis plaudendum funus amicis. 
 2 P. 347. 
 
(14) 
 
 Often he gives us promise of excellence, only later to disap- 
 point us. That his plays were popular is attested by abundant 
 evidence, but there is much in them that would have to be 
 revised or entirely omitted before they could be represented at 
 the present day. We must remember, however, that much 
 that we would cut out is what gave the greatest delight to the 
 audiences of over two hundred years ago. 
 
 III. Analysis. 
 
 (a) COMEDIAS HEROIC AS. 
 
 El Reynar jpara Morir. 
 
 (To Reign only to Die.) 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Ariolante, King of Athens and Sparta, realized that on ac- 
 count of his great age he had but a short time longer to live. 
 Having no male heir to succeed him, and being desirous of 
 knowing something regarding the King who should rule after 
 him, he propounded this question to his astrologer, Aristippo. 
 The seer informed him that whoever his successor might be, his 
 reign would not last longer than a year, for within that time 
 he would meet with a violent death. Ariolante confided this 
 awful revelation to no one except his adviser, Cleon, whom he 
 ordered secretly to consult the oracle of Apollo for a denial or 
 confirmation of the prophecy. The oracle repeated thrice what 
 Aristippo had already said, whereupon Ariolante, thoroughly 
 frightened and fearful that the prophecy might become known, 
 banished Aristippo from the country. Out of revenge, howr 
 ever, the seer disclosed the dreadful secret, and accordingly, 
 when Ariolante died, no one could be found who was willing to 
 take his place. The courtiers were in despair, and realizing 
 that tumult and sedition might arise in the absence of a ruler, 
 decided to consult the oracle as to what they should do. They 
 
(15 ) 
 
 received the answer that whosoever, the following day, should 
 first enter their city — Athens — would be their King. 
 
 When this revelation is disclosed to the people, all are satis- 
 fied, and next day, at dawn, they gather about the gates to await 
 the arrival of the unknown. He soon appears in the person of 
 Aristomenes, who, amidst shouts of welcome, is unanimously 
 proclaimed King. Naturally, the new-comer is quite at a loss 
 how to account for such unexpected good-fortune, but Cleon 
 gives a very plausible excuse for their unique method of choos- 
 ing a ruler, and conducts him to the palace. 
 
 Meantime, Lisandro, Prince of Thessaly and rightful heir 
 to the kingdom, has come to claim it and marry the Prin- 
 cess Irene, his cousin, but when he hears the great risk attend- 
 ing his becoming King, he decides not to ascend the throne. He 
 is conversing with Irene and asserting that only his love for 
 her, and not lack of courage, prevents him from becoming 
 King, when shouts are heard and Aristomenes appears. In a 
 long speech to the people he tells the story of his life, and, be- 
 fore he has concluded, Irene becomes enamored of him. She 
 decides to warn him of his danger, and accordingly, soon after 
 his coronation, he receives a letter from her, in which, without 
 giving her name, she reveals the strange circumstances under 
 which he was chosen King. When he has read it, he commu- 
 nicates what he has learned to the courtiers, but declares that 
 this will not prevent him from fulfilling his duty as King. 
 
 Ad 11. 
 Lisandro, convinced that Aristomenes and Irene are now 
 in love with each other, is mad with jealousy, and decides 
 to effect the murder of his rival. With this intent he sends 
 a message to his brother, the King of Thessaly, asking him at 
 once to dispatch one Alciades to Athens that he may kill 
 Aristomenes. Alciades, being unknown, can commit the crime 
 and escape with less danger of apprehension than he himself; 
 if he were to effect it, he would no doubt be put to death on 
 the spot by the infuriated populace. 
 
(16) 
 
 Soon after having dispatched the messenger to Thessaly, 
 Lisandro overhears a conversation between Aristomenes and 
 Irene, and enraged at the clear evidences of their mutual affec- 
 tion, draws a dagger and, under the pretense that he is seeking 
 self-destruction, thinks to stab the King. The latter, however, 
 is on his guard for such treachery, and unsheathes his sword, 
 whereupon Lisandro, surprised, lets fall the dagger to the floor. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Several incidents have occurred which have served to in- 
 crease the hatred of Lisandro toward Aristomenes, and, one 
 day, so furious does he become at Irene's indifference, that he 
 declares to her that he will avenge himself by killing his rival 
 before her very eyes. On this, she coolly bids him look at 
 himself in a mirror and see how pleasant he appears in his 
 fury, and then abruptly leaves him. Lisandro is wild with 
 rage, and in this condition is discovered by Aristomenes. The 
 latter declares that if disappointment in not being King plays 
 any part in his anger, he shall suffer from this no longer, 
 and at once offers him the crown. Lisandro accepts, explain- 
 ing that no lack of courage, but only his love for Irene 
 and desire not to leave her a widow prevented him from be- 
 coming King before. By all the people he is now proclaimed 
 ruler, and, immediately after this, he orders that Aristomenes 
 be beheaded. His ostensible reason for such a cruel command 
 is that, according to the prophecy, the first King would die 
 unexpectedly within the year ; consequently, as this time has 
 not yet expired, if Aristomenes meet death, his own life will be 
 
 Some time before this, Aristomenes had been informed of 
 Lisandro's design against his life by a letter from Aristippo, 
 and accordingly, when Alciades arrived from Thessaly, he caused 
 the latter to be imprisoned. For this reason Alciades has seen 
 neither Aristomenes nor Lisandro. He is now released, and 
 unaware that Aristomenes is no longer King, espies Lisandro 
 conversing with Irene in the King's closet. Hearing Lisandro 
 
(17) 
 
 call himself King, Alciades of course supposes that he is 
 Aristomenes, and rushing upon him with a dagger, kills him. 
 Irene, horrified, cries for help, and the courtiers appear, together 
 with Aristomenes, whose life has been spared by them in spite 
 of Lisandro^s order. Alciades, after confessing the mistake he 
 has made and the real object of his mission, is condemned by 
 Aristomenes to be hurled from a lofty rock, while the latter, 
 again proclaimed King, thanks the people for their loyalty, and 
 marries Irene. 
 
 (II.) 
 
 El Segundo Seneca de Espana. 
 (The Second Seneca of Spain.) 
 
 Act L 
 
 Santoyo, an old -fnan and the counsellor of King Philip the 
 Second, reads to his Majesty a letter from the JSTetherlauds, in 
 which they demand freedom of thought without oppression by 
 the Inquisition. When Santoyo has concluded, Philip declares 
 that he will not accede to the demands of the Dutch, and will 
 dispatch the Duke of Alva to curb their rebellious spirit, add- 
 ing that he would rather relinquish to them the whole King- 
 dom than permit them to be heretics. 
 
 A woman, Ota via, clad in mourning, now endeavors to 
 come before the King, but a guard rudely thrusts her back, and 
 speaks to her in a threatening tone. The disturbance hav- 
 ing attracted Philip's attention, he asks one of the courtiers 
 the cause of it, and being informed, sternly reprimands the 
 guard for ill-treating a woman. He then bids Otavia step 
 forward, and asks her what favor she desires. She tells him 
 that she is a widow, and that her son, aged fifteen years, has 
 been sentenced to death for having committed a murder. 
 Begging that he be spared, she asks that he be allowed to be- 
 come a soldier and have the opportunity of sacrificing his life 
 in a better cause — that of fighting for his King. Philip grants 
 her prayer, but declares that he does so only out of sympathy, 
 
(18) 
 
 and not deliberately to reverse the judicial decision, which was 
 just. 
 
 Lady Leonor, having learned that her lover, Don Juan of 
 Austria, half brother of the King, has been ordered by the latter 
 to lead an army against the rebellious Moors in Granada, writes 
 a letter to Juan, reproving him for intending to desert her. Just 
 as she has finished the letter, Juan appears, and she greets him 
 very coolly. After a long conversation between them, however, 
 Leonor shows that she is less vexed, and Juan takes his leave, 
 promising to return that night, to say farewell before his departure. 
 
 Santoyo reads to Philip, late one night, a number of petitions, 
 and after the King has passed upon them and given his reasons 
 for granting or refusing each one, his Majesty withdraws to write 
 a letter to the Pope, Pius V. Therein he gives his reasons 
 for not entering into the Holy League, but promises to send 
 orders to his Viceroys to protect the city of Venice. When 
 he has finished the communication, he reappears, and bids 
 Santoyo read and seal it. During his absence, however, the 
 old man has fallen asleep, and, of course, makes no reply. 
 Philip then tries to awake him, but is only partly successful. 
 Notwithstanding, he hands him the letter, and asks him to blot 
 and seal it. Santoyo, in a mechanical and listless way, then 
 seizes the inkstand, and assuming it to be the sand-box, empties 
 its contents over the sheet. Philip is startled, but does not lose 
 his temper, and telling the old man to get wide-awake, with- 
 draws to write his letter over again. 
 
 Act IT. 
 
 During the time that is supposed to have elapsed since the 
 close of the preceding act, Santoyo has died, and is mourned by 
 all except the Prince, Don Carlos. The cause of Carlos' s ill- 
 feeling toward Santoyo is to be found in the fact that he believes 
 that he advised Philip not to allow him, the Prince, to take 
 part in the campaign in Flanders. 
 
 Carlos is very jealous of the Duke of Alva, whom Philip has 
 selected as leader of the invasion, for he feels that he is hold- 
 
(19) 
 
 ing a position which by right belongs only to himself. Ac- 
 cordingly, when he now meets the Duke, he tries to dissuade 
 him from taking part in the campaign, but his efforts are fruit- 
 less, for the other declares that such is the King's desire and he 
 must comply with it. Carlos then becomes furious, and making 
 a savage lunge at him with a dagger, the Duke saves his life 
 only by seizing the Prince's arm. At this juncture the King 
 appears, and Carlos retiring, his Majesty bids the Duke relate 
 the cause of the quarrel. He does so, and when he has finished, 
 Philip is not a little vexed at his passionate son. 
 
 Carlos vows vengeance upon the Duke, and is more firm than 
 ever in his resolve to kill him. He decides to invoke the aid 
 of his uncle, Juan, who has now returned from the Moorish 
 campaign, but when, one night, he makes known to him his 
 desire, Juan, of course, refuses to listen to it. While they are 
 arguing they draw near the house of Leonor, and Carlos, assert- 
 ing that he has heard of her great beauty, expresses a desire 
 to see her. Very naturally, Juan is by no means pleased at 
 this, and tries to dissuade the Prince from such a notion by 
 stating that he would run the risk of meeting her parents and 
 brother. But Carlos, true to his stubborn nature, is not to be 
 so easily turned aside, and orders Juan to call Leonor at once, 
 else he will break in the door. Juan sees himself forced to 
 acquiesce, and summoning his loved one to the grating, tells 
 her, in anxious tones, of his predicament. She is by no means 
 confused, and bids him tell the Prince to approach. Juan does 
 so, and Carlos is delighted, for he supposes he is to be admitted 
 at once to the house. He is doomed to disappointment, how- 
 ever, for his entreaties and arguments are answered only by 
 good-natured banterings on the part of Leonor. Finally, he 
 loses his temper, and becomes so impudent that she closes the 
 window in his face. Carlos is wild with rage, and uttering all 
 sorts of threats, is led away by his uncle to the palace. Ar- 
 rived there, they are involved in a heated dispute as to the 
 merits of their respective fathers, and so loudly does Carlos 
 express himself that the King is attracted to the spot. Dis- 
 
(20) 
 
 missing Juan, Philip asks Carlos the cause of their dispute, 
 and after reprimanding him, orders him to bed. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Philip, having heard that the people are continually com- 
 plaining of Carlos's actions, is angered, and decides to have 
 an inter\'iew with him. He accordingly sends a courtier 
 to seek him, and the latter finds him playing ball, in an en- 
 deavor to forget an attack of the ague from which he is suf- 
 fering. When he comes before his father, Philip tells him 
 that he is much displeased with him, and that if he does not 
 change his demeanor it will go hard with him. Hereupon 
 Carlos declares that his ambition has been sorely disap- 
 pointed, for in spite of the fact that he desired to lead the 
 troops in Flanders, the Duke of Alva was permitted to go in- 
 stead ; the sending of the Duke meant nothing less than that 
 he was unworthy of such an honorable and responsible position. 
 Even before he has finished his speech, he is seized by the ague, 
 which finally becomes so violent that his father, forgetting his 
 anger, is overcome with compassion, and calling the attendants, 
 has him carried to his apartment. 
 
 The Cardinal now enters, bearing a document relative to 
 Philip's approaching marriage with his niece, Anne of Austria, 
 daughter of Maximilian II., Emperor of Germany. By its 
 terms, she is to bring with her, as a dowry, one hundred thou- 
 sand crowns, and, as earnest money, a like amount. Should 
 she outlive the King, she will receive forty-six thousand ducats 
 a year, provided she does not remarry. The paper also stipu- 
 lates that Isabel, another daughter of Maximilian, shall be- 
 come the bride of Charles IV. of France, while Margarita, 
 the daughter of the latter, shall marry the King of Portugal. 
 Philip places his seal on the document, and then orders that to 
 the Archduke, who has brought it to Court, shall be given a 
 hundred thousand ducats. 
 
 Soon after the Cardinal has withdrawn, Juan enters, and 
 upon Philip inquiring about Carlos, he tells him that the 
 
(21) 
 
 Prince asks permission to retire for a short time from Court to 
 Alcala, for the benefit of his health. The King grants his son's 
 request, and then informs Juan that he has been chosen by the 
 Pope to be general of the League against Selim and Mustafa. 
 
 In response to his Majesty's summons, Pompeyo, a sculptor, 
 now appears, and Philip orders him to complete as soon as j5os- 
 sible some unfinished bronze figures that are to decorate the 
 garden of San Lorenzo. Pompeyo states that the delay is 
 caused by a scarcity of workmen, whereupon the King orders 
 him to obtain them from Italy and Germany. Pompeyo now 
 asserts that his son, who is in prison at Zaragoza for killing an 
 oflScer while resisting arrest, is an expert sculptor, and would 
 be of great aid to him. When Philip hears this, he declares 
 that he shall be set at liberty. 
 
 Receiving word from the Archbishop of Seville that Anne of 
 Austria is approaching Segovia, Philip repairs thither, and 
 meets her, accompanied by her two brothers. After the usual 
 courtesies have been exchanged, the Archbishop bestows the 
 nuptial blessings upon the couple, and prepares to celebrate the 
 marriage ceremony on the following day. 
 
 (b) COMEDIAS DE CaPA Y EsPADA. 
 
 Como Amante y como Honrada 
 ( As Loving and as Honored.) 
 
 Act I. 
 Don Lope de Guzman has just returned to Madrid from the 
 war in Flanders, in order to marry his cousin, Leonor, daugh- 
 ter of Don Pedro. Putting up at an inn, he sends word to 
 Pedro of his arrival, and then starts out with his servant, 
 Martin, for a promenade. They have not gone far when they 
 hear the clash of swords, and see four men attacking one whom 
 Lope recognizes as his friend, Juan de la Cueva. He hurries 
 to his aid, and with the assistance of Martin, puts to flight his 
 
(22) 
 
 adversaries. Juan thanks Lope for his timely intercession, and 
 at his request to know the cause of the quarrel, tells him that 
 it was concerning a lady whom he loves. Since the death of 
 her parents, three months before, she had been in a convent, and 
 when, to-day, she made her first appearance in public she was 
 annoyed by the persistent attentions of a gay gallant. Juan 
 very naturally objected, and then the gallant, angered, attacked 
 him. 
 
 Juan now asks Lope the cause of his unexpected return to 
 Madrid, for when he left Flanders he had supposed that Lope 
 would yet remain there some time. Lope tells him that he has 
 come to marry his cousin, — not mentioning her name, how- 
 ever, — and that the marriage, which is to take place the com- 
 ing evening at her uncle's, Don Pedro's, will be a very quiet 
 one, on account of the recent death of her parents. Juan is 
 greatly disconcerted at this, for he is in love with Leonor's 
 sister. Ana, (who also lives with her uncle), and is fearful 
 that it may be she whom Lope is going to marry. To put an 
 end to this horrible suspicion, he hurries away to interview his 
 mistress, leaving Lope to meet Pedro, who is seen approach- 
 ing them. 
 
 Ana assures her lover that his fears are groundless, for Lope 
 is to marry Leonor, and not her. She does not reveal to him, 
 however, that in accordance with a request made, this day, by 
 Leonor to Pedro, she is to become his wife on Leonor's mar- 
 riage. The cause for concealing from Juan this glad news is 
 that Pedro, for his own reasons, has requested both Leonor and 
 Ana to keep it a secret till after Leonor shall have become the 
 wife of Lope. But Ines, the servant of Ana, has overheard 
 this agreement of secrecy, and now, to Ana's utter dismay, de- 
 clares to Juan that he is to be the husband of her mistress. Of 
 course, Juan is overjoyed, but, to his great surprise and disap- 
 pointment. Ana, after telling him why he has to observe secrecy, 
 positively forbids his calling upon her, adding that such a pre- 
 caution is indispensable to their honor. Juan is astonished, 
 but promises to obey her command. 
 
(23) 
 
 Pedro and Lope now arrive, and Juan, not desiring to be seen, 
 withdraws. Pedro, however, has caught just a glimpse of his 
 retreating figure, and asking Ines who it is, receives the answer : 
 " A squire who has just come with a message.'' Lope over- 
 hears this, and his jealousy is at once aroused, for he imagines 
 that in the sender of the message Leonor has some other ad- 
 mirer. He is, of course, quite unaware that Ines' reply was 
 intended solely to deceive Pedro, for she did not wish him 
 to know that Juan had been in the house. 
 
 On entering. Lope had observed a man — Mendo, Juan's 
 servant, whom he did not know — standing near the door, 
 and this further increases his suspicions, for he connects him 
 with the mysterious squire. Full of these absurd ideas, he is, 
 of course, easily in a condition to foster others, and is therefore 
 startled when Leonor tells him that she has been in a convent 
 since the death of her parents ; she has refrained from speaking 
 of it before, not wishing to worry him. What Juan had con- 
 fided to him regarding his inamorata now comes forcibly before 
 him, and not knowing that Ana has also been in the convent 
 with Leonor, he gives a start, and becomes so pale that Leonor 
 asks him if he is ill. He also remembers Juan's confusion 
 when he told him of his intention to marry his cousin. All 
 this now piles up before Lope and almost convinces him that 
 Leonor has been unfaithful to him, and that Juan intends to 
 take her for his wife. Accordingly, wishing to gain time in 
 order to investigate this apparent deception, he pleads excessive 
 fatigue, and tells her he must postpone their marriage till the 
 morrow. Leonor, feeling that Lope's excuse is but a subterfuge, 
 and that he has taken offense at something she has done, bursts 
 into tears. 
 
 Act 11. 
 
 Two months have passed since Lope's arrival in Madrid, and 
 although he has neither seen nor heard anything which might 
 serve to confirm his suspicions regarding Leonor's fidelity, yet 
 he has abandoned her. But the sacrifice has cost him not a 
 little anxiety and unrest, and has affected him to such a degree 
 that he acts at times as though his mind were unbalanced. 
 
(24) 
 
 Juan, among others, has noticed his look of exceeding worri- 
 ment, and asks him the cause. Lope, of course, not wish- 
 ing to reveal the truth, replies that soon after his arrival 
 a new beauty absorbed all his love for Leonor, and for this 
 reason he wishes at least to postpone indefinitely his marriage 
 with her, if he cannot permanently annul it. Juan is in des- 
 pair at this declaration, for he sees that it means that Ana may 
 never become his wife, if Pedro^s order regarding the secrecy 
 of their engagement is observed. Lope, in turn, now asks 
 Juan how his love affairs are progressing, and Juan, in the 
 same spirit of reserve, replies that they are greatly " hindered 
 by a certain inconvenience." In his usual rash way. Lope as- 
 sumes that the " inconvenience " is none other than he himself, 
 and thereby adds to his suspicions and anxiety. 
 
 For some time, Martin, the servant of Lope, has imagined 
 that his master's shameful neglect of Leonor is due to his love 
 for Ana, and moved to pity for the unhappy lady, he com- 
 municates his belief to Ines. The latter, of course, passes it on 
 to Leonor, who is greatly surprised, and declares that she will 
 take vengeance on Lope for his base desertion and infidelity. 
 
 Pedro, who has heard some suspicious reports concerning the 
 reason of Lope's postponing so long his marriage, asks him to 
 tell him the real motive for his dilatoriness. Lope asserts that 
 he is seeking preferment, and until he attains it must remain 
 single, for if a soldier, after leaving the array, marry before he 
 gains his pretension, his past services will be forgotten and un- 
 rewarded. Pedro remains entirely satisfied with this explana- 
 tion, and bids Lope go to Leonor and console her by telling 
 her the reason for his apparent indifference. 
 
 Ana, who, like Juan, has become very fearful that their mar- 
 riage may never be consummated, takes occasion to sound Lope 
 regarding his marriage. He is uncommunicative, however, on 
 this subject, and Ana learns nothing more than she already 
 knew. The pair are quite unaware that they have been seen 
 speaking together by Leonor, and after Lope has departed she 
 makes known her presence to Ana. The latter, in good faith, 
 
(25) 
 
 urges Leonor publicly to break her engagement with Lope, as- 
 suring her that on good authority — not naming Juan — she 
 knows that Lope is in love with another whom he intends 
 marrying. She concludes her long speech by declaring she 
 will rather annul her own marriage with Juan than see Leonor 
 overlook such base deception. Leonor, however, is full of sus- 
 picion and jealousy regarding Lope's imagined relations with 
 Ana, and therefore, to the latter^s great surprise, she furiously 
 accuses her of deception and conduct ill becoming a sister. 
 Asked what the trouble is, Leonor angrily declares she will 
 tell no more at present, and Ana, dumbfounded, retires. 
 
 Lope now appears, and on his addressing Leonor with all 
 his former ardor, she disdainfully tells him what she has heard, 
 not mentioning his supposed inamorata by name, however. 
 At great length she reproves him for his unfaithfulness, and 
 declares that their engagement must be broken publicly, and 
 the reason given, if she would save her honor. Lope endeavors 
 to pacify his infuriated mistress, and declaring that he loves 
 her, offers the same excuse for his actions as he did to Pedro. 
 All in vain, however, and finally losing patience, he asserts 
 that the guilt is on her side, and angrily tells her that he will 
 never marry her, for she has been untrue to him, and this is 
 the real cause of his neglect. 
 
 Act III. 
 Juan, unable longer to force himself to obey Ana's command 
 that he should not see her, calls upon her, greatly to her sur- 
 prise and confusion. He reproaches her for not even having 
 sent him a message during the time that has elapsed since his 
 last visit, made on the day of their betrothal. In her defense, she 
 tells him that Leonor has positively forbidden her to see him, 
 and then relates the quarrel that took place between them. At 
 this juncture Leonor appears, and after Juan has made some 
 excuse for being discovered in his mistress's company, she bids 
 Ana withdraw, saying that she wishes to speak privately with 
 Juan. 
 
(26) 
 
 After Ana has retired, Leonor communicates to Juan that 
 Lope is wronging both them and Ana in paying his addresses 
 to the latter, and then tells, in extenso, of Lope's former love 
 for her, and of his shameful neglect since his return from Flan- 
 ders. Naturally, Juan is not a little surprised and angered to 
 find that the lady who has displaced Lope's affections for 
 Leonor, as he himself declared to him, is none other than 
 his fiancee. Ana. He is mad with jealousy, and when, on 
 taking leave of Leonor, he sees Lope, he eagerly accepts the 
 challenge to a duel which the latter offers, and appoints the 
 place and time. Lope is, on his part, equally furious on dis- 
 covering Juan with his mistress, and thirsts for the revenge 
 which he soon hopes to attain. 
 
 Imagining that his former mistress, Leonor, is to become the 
 wife of Juan, Lope resolves to make good her loss with Ana, 
 whom he has now succeeded in persuading himself is far supe- 
 rior to Leonor. Accordingly, when Pedro joyfully announces 
 to him that he. Lope, has at last obtained his much-desired 
 preferment in the shape of a Marquisate, and can therefore 
 marry Leonor at once, he declares that Anaj and not Leonor ^ 
 will be his wife. Pedro is, of course, utterly astounded, but 
 Lope offers no further explanation than by asserting that Juan 
 can have Leonor, for such an arrangement will suit them both 
 very well. When Pedro communicates this information to 
 Leonor, she is overcome with grief, and bursting into tears, re- 
 solves to take her life rather than see her beloved one become 
 the husband of another. 
 
 Martin — Lope's servant — who chanced to overhear his 
 master's challenge to Juan for a duel, now appears before 
 Leonor in great trepidation, and tells her what is about to take 
 place. She decides to start for the duelling-ground at once, in 
 company with Ana, not to prevent the fight, but to beseech 
 Juan to take swift and sure vengeance on Lope for his cruel 
 treatment of her. 
 
 Pedro has also been apprised by Martin of the impending 
 duel, and hurrying to the spot, arrives just in time to fore- 
 
(27) 
 
 stall the first thrust by throwing himself between the com- 
 batants. He begs Lope not to run such a great risk on the eve 
 of his marriage, for his prospective bride, Ana, would be heart- 
 broken were he to lose his life. When Juan hears his fiancee 
 mentioned as Lope's intended wife, he is amazed, and in no 
 mild terms asserts his right and intention to keep possession of 
 her. 
 
 Leonor and Ana now make their appearance, and the former 
 revealing Lope's assumed infidelity to her, asks Juan to avenge 
 her injured reputation and his. She then places herself at the 
 side of her loved one, and declares she will die with him. Lope 
 is greatly puzzled by Leonor's statement, and asks Juan why 
 he should have occasion to avenge Leonor and himself. Juan 
 replies that they have both been wronged by him in his court- 
 ing Ana, when already betrothed to Leonor. Lope then satis- 
 factorily explains matters by telling of his mistake in suppos- 
 ing that it was Leonor whom Juan had intended marrying, 
 when he spoke of her as a lady just out of a convent ; he was 
 quite unaware that Ana likewise fulfilled this condition. 
 
 In accordance with the original arrangement. Lope now 
 offers his hand to Leonor, and Juan, at Pedro's bidding, does 
 the same to Ana. 
 
 IL 
 
 De un Castigo dos Venganzas. 
 
 (For One Punishment a Double Vengeance.) 
 
 Act I. 
 While Lady Leonor Faria was one night awaiting her cousin 
 and lover, Don Lope de Almeida, she saw a man at the street- 
 door below, and assuming him to be the object of her affections, 
 she hurried down to the grating to speak with him. Hardly 
 had she addressed him, when her brother Pedro appeared, hav- 
 ing returned home earlier that night than usual, and challeng- 
 ing the gallant, drew his sword and attacked him. The 
 stranger was more than a match for his adversary, however. 
 
(28) 
 
 and running him through the body, saw him fall lifeless upon 
 the ground. He was about to make good his escape, when a 
 crowd collected, attracted by the noise of the encounter, and so 
 completely surrounded him that to flee was impossible. The 
 police soon arrived, and after identifying the murderer as Don 
 Juan de Silva, hurried him off to prison. 
 
 This unfortunate affair is much to be deplored, since, be- 
 sides exciting the anger of the victim's father, it has done great 
 injury to the reputation of Leonor. With a view to repairing 
 this damage, therefore, the relatives of Juan have stipulated 
 that he should become the husband of the lady who has so suf- 
 fered from his crime. When Leonor learns this, she is filled 
 with consternation, and, in her despair, resolves to ask aid of 
 her friend and next-door neighbor. Lady Yiolante de Ataide. 
 
 Quite unaware that for some time Juan and Violante have 
 loved one another, and that through a letter from Juan Vio- 
 lante is cognizant of all that occurred on that fatal night, Leonor 
 rehearses to her the whole affair, and after declaring she will 
 never marry Juan, begs her to visit him in his prison and in- 
 form him that she — Leonor — has a lover. She feels confi- 
 dent that when Juan hears this he will flatly refuse to become 
 her husband. Violante, who, up till now, has heard nothing 
 of the proposed arrangement regarding Juan and Leonor, pales 
 when the latter unfolds it, and Leonor observes her distress and 
 remarks upon it. She excuses her confusion, however, on the 
 ground of sympathy, and declares that she will accede to 
 Leonor's request. 
 
 Going to the prison, Violante is admitted by the Alcaide, — 
 a former servant of hers, — and is about to enter Juan's dun- 
 geon, when she sees the Corregidor, Garcia, speaking with him. 
 Garcia, who has been sent by Juan to intercede for him with 
 Don Diego, the father of the murdered man and Viceroy of 
 Portugal, tells him that if he would save his life he must 
 marry Leonor, for only on that condition will Diego annul the 
 sentence of death which he has passed upon him ; he has two 
 days in which to decide. Hereupon Garcia leaves him. 
 
(29) 
 
 On hearing this, Yiolante is terror-stricken, and realizing 
 that to deliver Leonoras message is but to influence Juan to 
 die, she resolves to withhold it and exhort him to accept the 
 condition imposed. She well knows that if he were aware of 
 Leonor's love for Lope, he would die rather than deprive her 
 of him. To her great dismay, Juan at first absolutely refuses 
 to comply with her request, and only after the greatest urging 
 and the declaration that if he does not she will take her own 
 life, does he yield. 
 
 Act 11. 
 
 Six months have passed since Juan became the husband of 
 Leonor, and, as might be expected, their married life has been 
 very unhappy. He has learned that at the time he married 
 Leonor, she had a lover in Lope, and consequently suspects 
 that she may now be unfaithful toward him. As he still loves 
 Yiolante, he decides to communicate his fears to her, in the 
 hope that she may be able to advise him, and arriving at her 
 house unexpectedly, she is overwhelmed with embarrassment 
 and confusion. 
 
 After he has declared that he can never love Leonor and for- 
 get Yiolante, he tells the latter of his jealousy toward Lope, 
 whereupon she answers him that it is groundless, for Lope is 
 now her lover. When the latter lost his adored Leonor, 
 through her becoming the wife of Juan, he endeavored to bury 
 his grief by paying court to Yiolante, and she encouraged 
 him. Her object in so doing was to induce him to discon- 
 tinue his relations with Leonor, by which he excited Juan^s 
 jealousy. As time passed Lope became more and more inti- 
 mate with her, and, at last, enjoyed her one night under 
 promise of marriage ; he will soon become her husband. She 
 has very naturally refrained from disclosing this to anyone, and 
 reveals it to Juan only that in the future he may have no oc- 
 casion to foster any feelings of jealousy toward Lope. Since, 
 however, Juan's future security depends, in his eyes, so largely 
 upon Leonor knowing her — Yiolante's — relations with Lope, 
 she will also make her a party to the secret, at the *first oppor- 
 
(30) 
 
 tunity. In payment for this favor, she requests Juan never 
 again to visit her, and greatly saddened he takes his leave. 
 
 Not long after this, Leonor calls upon Yiolante, and upon 
 alluding to her husband's jealousy of Lope, is told that he has been 
 disabused upon' that subject. Leonor, of course quite unaware 
 that Yiolante never delivered to Juan, in his prison, the message 
 she had sent to him, now declares that it was an outrage for him 
 to marry her, when he knew she already had a lover. Wholly 
 ignorant of Lope's relations to Yiolante, she concludes by de- 
 claring that she still loves him, and has yielded up to him her 
 honor, and then asks Yiolante that she allow them to meet in 
 her own house, where they will be less likely to be discovered 
 by Juan than in her own. At this moment Juan is heard 
 without, and Leonor hurriedly departs, promising to confer 
 again, at length, with Yiolante upon the matter. 
 
 Yiolante is furious with anger and jealousy, for she really 
 loves Lope and had not suspected that he was trifling with 
 her, and bursts out into a long and impassioned speech, with 
 which the act closes. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Lope calls upon Yiolante, his promised wife, who decides to 
 send at once for Leonor, to acquaint her, in his presence, of 
 their true relationship. While the servant — quite unknown 
 to Lope — is seeking Leonor, Yiolante takes occasion to ask 
 him to marry her, but he replies that it is impossible, as he 
 must leave the country immediately. 
 
 Leonor now appears, and Lope, in great dismay, for ot 
 course he does not wish to be seen by her, secretes himself, 
 under the pretense that if he be found with Yiolante her repu- 
 tation will suffer. But Leonor has already been informed by 
 the servant sent by Yiolante that Lope is in the house, and she 
 accordingly asks at once where he is. On this, Yiolante bids 
 him come forth from his hiding place, and he acquiesces, over- 
 whelmed with embarrassment. After Leonor has greeted him 
 affectionately and assured him that he has nothing to fear from 
 her friend, Yiolante, the latter, to his utter disconcertion, re- 
 
( 31 ) 
 
 veals his past relations with her, and adds that as he is to be 
 her husband, Leonor and he must cease their amour. 
 
 In a long speech, Leonor now asserts her undying love for 
 Lope and her jealousy of Violante ; out of regard for her, how- 
 ever, she will ask him to declare in their presence that he will 
 become her — Violante's — husband, and if he does so, she will 
 promise never to see him again. Lope, however, refuses flatly 
 to accede to her request, explaining that even if he should marry 
 Violante he could not cease his relations with her, and would 
 therefore be untrue to his wife. 
 
 Violante learns through her servant, Luisa, that Juan is to 
 leave the country that night for Brazil to take part, as Captain, 
 in the war against Holland, and that Lope, who had also 
 enlisted, has planned to desert, return, and keep an assigna- 
 tion that night with Leonor in her own house. Ablaze with 
 jealousy on hearing this, Violante resolves to put the adulterers 
 to death. Accordingly, she sends word to Juan to come at 
 once to her if he should miss Lope in the ranks, since it will 
 be very important for him to do so. Soon after dispatching the 
 letter, Violante is informed by a servant that Lope, in dis- 
 guise, has been seen to enter Leonoras house. She sends word 
 to the Corregidor to come at once, and seizing a dagger, enters 
 the house of Juan through a door in the party-wall. Passing 
 to Leonoras chamber, she comes upon the wretched pair in 
 flagrante delicto, and kills them both. Juan, who has arrived 
 at Violante^s meantime, and has heard the screams uttered by 
 Leonor, is about to rush to her aid through the door left open 
 by Violante, when he is met by the murderess, dagger in hand. 
 At great length, she relates what she has done, and the causes 
 which led up to it, and adds that she has sent for the Cor- 
 regidor. When she has concluded, Juan offers his hand to her, 
 as the avenger of his injured honor. 
 
 Garcia, the Corregidor, now arrives in response to Violante's 
 letter, which was to the effect that Juan should be taken into 
 custody, to forestall a crime which he intended to commit. 
 Showing Garcia the bloody dagger, which he had previously 
 
(32) 
 
 taken from Violante, Juan, imputing no blame to her, de- 
 clares that he is a murderer, and then leads him to view the 
 two corpses. Relating briefly to the official why he put the 
 two to death, the Corregidor declares that under the circum- 
 stances he will not cast him into prison, but detain him at his 
 — Garcia's — house till the Viceroy shall grant him the par- 
 don which he is sure to receive. 
 
 (c) Cojmedia de Santos. 
 
 Santo Domingo en Soriano, 
 
 (St. Dominic in Soriano.) 
 
 Ad I. 
 
 The Baron of Lisola, with drawn sword, attacks Don Domingo . 
 Duzi by night, in front of the monastery of Santo Domingo in 
 the town of Soriano. Domingo, however, bravely defends him- 
 self, and by a well-directed thrust puts an end to the life of his 
 antagonist. As the Baron falls to the ground, Domingo, fear- 
 ing detection, seeks refuge in the monastery, intending to re- 
 main there till all danger of possible arrest is past. On inform- 
 ing the Father Sacristan, Fray Vicente, of the crime he has 
 just committed, the former offers Domingo the hospitality of 
 the monastery so long as he may desire. 
 
 Domingo, however, has made an appointment to meet his 
 mistress, Porcia, that night at twelve o'clock, and soon becomes 
 very uneasy. Love overcoming the fear of .arrest, he tells 
 Vicente of his assignation with Porcia, and adds that if sus- 
 picion should point to him as the murderer of the Baron, his 
 very retirement to the monastery would serve only to increase 
 it. Thanking Vicente for his welcome, and thinking it best 
 for him to remain no longer, he is about to take his leave when 
 the voice of the Baron is heard, accompanied by knocks at the 
 door. Domingo is startled, and while hesitating what to do, 
 the door opens and the spirit of the murdered man appears. 
 Torch in hand, the spectre warns him not to keep his appoint- 
 
(33) 
 
 ment with Porcia, for in so doing he will run a great danger. 
 Domingo replies that he is not afraid, whereupon the ghost de- 
 clares that if he is not to be dissuaded from his intention, he 
 must, in the name of Santo Domingo, first follow him before 
 going to Porcia. Not without misgivings, Domingo consents, 
 and is led by the spectre to a lonely spot outside the town. 
 There he is ordered to lay aside his clothes, and put on those 
 of his guide ; he does so, and the spectre donning his, disappears. 
 Some time before paying his addresses to Porcia, Domingo 
 had shown great favor to her cousin, Gerarda, but Porcia, full of 
 jealousy, had at last succeeded in winning him over to herself. 
 This so angered Gerarda that she communicated to Porcia's 
 father, Aurelio, his daughter's passion for Domingo, knowing 
 that Aurelio was opposed to Domingo and wished Porcia to 
 marry the Baron of Lisola. So enraged did Aurelio become 
 on Gerarda's disclosure, that he declared he would kill Domingo 
 on his next visit to Porcia. Learning from a letter Porcia has 
 just received from her lover that he will visit her this night, 
 Aurelio orders her to her room, and arming himself, is even 
 now awaiting the arrival of Domingo. Accordingly, it is to 
 save his life that God has sent the spirit of the murdered Baron 
 to warn him of his impending danger, and to protect him from 
 it. When Domingo reaches the house of Porcia, he again be- 
 holds the spectre, and Aurelio, on appearing, of course mis- 
 takes the latter for Domingo. Furious with rage, he runs him 
 through with his sword and causes him to be hurriedly interred, 
 while Domingo himself, amazed at what he has seen, makes 
 good his escape. 
 
 Act 11. 
 
 Domingo again takes refuge with Fray Vicente and his 
 Brethren, where he remains till he hears that a proclamation 
 has been made pardoning all those guilty of crime, on condi- 
 tion that they capture, dead or alive, the captain of a certain 
 band of outlaws. Taking advantage of this proclamation, 
 Domingo resolves, after first visiting Porcia, to proceed to the 
 mountain stronghold of the free-booters. 
 
(34) 
 
 As Aurelio has never discovered the mistake he had made in 
 stabbing the spectre of the Baron in place of Domingo, all, 
 of course, suppose that Domingo is no more. Porcia is over- 
 come with grief, while Gerarda, having very rightly regarded 
 herself as the real cause of his death, has lost her reason. 
 Under these circumstances, therefore, when Domingo appears 
 before Porcia and her servant, Dorotea, they are terrified, and 
 believe him to be a ghost. When Porcia discovers that the 
 visitor is actually her lover, her joy knows no bounds, and 
 she asks him how he escaped the fury of Aurelio. After tell- 
 ing her how the Baron, out of jealousy for her, had attacked 
 him, and relating all that had subsequently taken place, he 
 informs her of his intention to go against the outlaws, and as- 
 sures her he will soon return. 
 
 When Domingo has departed, Porcia causes the unfortunate 
 Gerarda to be taken to Santo Domingo, where by Vicente she 
 is exorcised, and restored to her senses. 
 
 On reaching the mountains, Domingo finds Eicardo, the 
 captain of the robbers, and three of his companions in a cave. 
 He sees with them a woman whom they are forcibly detain- 
 ing, and who is bemoaning her sad fate. The unfortunate 
 prisoner is none other than Gerarda, who, after having been 
 once exorcised by Vicente, has again become possessed of the 
 devil, and fled to the mountains. Domingo kills Ricardo, re- 
 leases Gerarda, and leaping upon a horse, dashes away, closely 
 pursued by the robbers. They are about to overtake him, 
 when, in his despair, he calls on Santo Domingo for aid, and the 
 latter appeares, riding upon a dog, and carrying in his mouth 
 a torch, and in his right hand a bunch of white lilies. The Saint 
 declares that Domingo has nothing to fear under his protection, 
 and bears him away to Soriano. 
 
 Act III. 
 After his return to Soriano, Domingo goes to the monas- 
 tery, and thanking Vicente for his prayers to Santo Domingo, 
 which alone made his victory possible, asks permission to re- 
 
(35) 
 
 main there till the Consistory of Soriano shall grant his 
 pardon. Vicente again offers him the hospitality of the sac- 
 red house, and Domingo then tells him of Gerarda's second 
 attack of insanity and adventure with the robbers. When 
 Domingo has concluded his narrative, Gerarda appears, held by 
 three men, and Vicente again casting out the devil, she returns 
 to her senses, and declares that henceforth she will be a child 
 of God. 
 
 Shortly after this, the Governor calls upon Vicente, and at 
 his request the Friar narrates, at considerable length, the story 
 of the founding of the monastery and what occasioned it. He 
 then requests the Governor to pardon Domingo for the crime 
 he has committed in murdering the Baron, adding that as he has 
 killed Ricardo he has fulfilled the condition required for ob- 
 taining such a pardon. The Governor gladly grants his re- 
 quest, and Vicente sending for Domingo, informs him that he 
 need no longer have any fear of justice. 
 
 Aurelio and Porcia now appear, and the Governor tells Do- 
 mingo that he knows all about his love for Porcia, and will 
 arrange with Aurelio that he may have her for a wife. At 
 this, Aurelio steps forward and declares that no such interfer- 
 ence from the Governor is necessary, for, through the influence 
 of Santo Domingo, all his former hatred for Domingo has 
 turned to love. Greatly to the joy of the two young people, 
 he then bids Porcia offer her hand to Domingo, which he, de- 
 lighted, accepts, declaring that all his misfortunes are now at 
 an end. 
 
 Some time previous to this, Vicente had caused a portrait of 
 the Saint to be removed from one altar in the chapel to another, 
 for the reason that water, working its way through the wall 
 from a spring in a rock outside, was constantly passing over it. 
 The Father feared that the portrait would be destroyed by the 
 action of the water, and hence had its position changed. Word 
 is now brought to him by one of the Brothers that the portrait 
 has been restored to its original altar by the Virgin, for the 
 miracle was performed in his own presence. All repairing 
 
(36) 
 
 thither, they find the altar surrounded by the Virgin, the Mag- 
 dalen and St. Catalina. The Virgin declares that the portrait 
 is in no danger, for Heaven will protect it, and, to the sound 
 of music, the altar and the holy ladies disappear from view. 
 
 . (d) COMEDIA DEVOTA. 
 
 £!scanderbech, 
 (Scanderbeg.) 
 
 The heathen Escanderbech, about to lead an attack on a 
 city, is met at the ramparts by a woman, whose features are 
 concealed by a veil. In a long speech, he boasts to her of his 
 many victories, but, before he has concluded, he confesses that 
 he is enamored of her graceful figure, and bids her remove her 
 veil and give her name. She complies, and informs him that 
 she is Christerna Maria, a Christian, and a member of the Cas- 
 triota family. As soon as she beholds Escanderbech, she is in- 
 fatuated with his great beauty, and declares that such aiBfection 
 does he inspire in her that she will gladly make peace with him. 
 If, however, he desires w^ar, she will fight him to the death. 
 Escanderbech tells her that he will leave her in peace, where- 
 upon she states that if he will desert Amurates, his lord, she 
 will aid him in all his exploits and become his wife. This he 
 refuses to do, and casting longing glances at one another, they 
 separate — she to reenter the city, and he to return with his 
 army to Constantinople. 
 
 For some time the Sultan, Amurates, has been suspicious 
 concerning the loyalty of Escanderbech, and when now he 
 does not return from his expedition at the appointed time, he is 
 greatly worried. He communicates his fears to his wife, Rosa, 
 who, to divert him, offers to sing for him. Amurates gladly 
 assents, and requesting her to make Escanderbech the sub- 
 ject of her strain, she sings of his adoption by her husband, 
 his victories, the great honors bestowed upon him, and the 
 possibility that some day, when he learns of his noble blood, 
 he may turn a traitor. Before she has finished, Escanderbech, 
 
(37) 
 
 who has just returned, is about to come before the Sultan, but, 
 being unobserved, decides to await the conclusion of her song. 
 As Rosa lays down the instrument on which she has been 
 playing, he enters, announced by a roll of the drum. After 
 greeting her and Am urates, he tells of the victories won on his 
 late campaign, and concludes by stating that while returning 
 to Constantinople he was vanquished by a most beautiful 
 woman, Christerna Maria. The Sultan, knowing her to be a 
 Christian, flies into a fury, calls Escanderbech a traitor, and 
 declares that, as a punishment, he — accompanied by him — 
 must return to Albania, and take Maria a prisoner. 
 
 This treatment thoroughly arouses Escanderbech, and after 
 Amurates has withdrawn, he calls upon Christerna to aid him. 
 Imagine his great surprise, when she instantly responds to his 
 call, having, without his being aware of it, followed him on 
 his return. After speaking of his abuse by the Sultan, he 
 relates to her that on his way home he saw a young man nailed 
 on a cross and surrounded by a dazzling light ; on touch- 
 ing him, his bleeding body turned to the whitest bread 
 Christerna explains that this was Christ, and then, at great 
 length, unfolds to him the nature of God. She exhorts him 
 to be a slave of Amurates no longer, but to turn Christian, and, 
 after killing the infidel, release all his captives. By winning 
 over to his side the janizaries of the Sultan, the victory will be 
 an easy one, and then he will be able to regain his own king- 
 dom, of which he has been so basely deprived. 
 
 Escanderbech follows the advice of Christerna, and attacking 
 Amurates, routs his troops, sets fire to his pavilion, and burns 
 both him and his wife, Rosa, to death. A volley of squibs 
 exploded on the stage marks the extinction of the tent, and 
 Alberto, one of Escanderbech^s followers, appears on horseback 
 with a seven-headed, fire-exhaling dragon at his feet. Amidst 
 the sound of music and cries of "Long live Christerna," the play 
 comes to an end. 
 
( 38 ) 
 ly. Criticism . 
 
 (a) COMEDIAS HEROTCAS. 
 I. 
 
 ' El Reynar para Morir. 
 
 A very poor piece, whose strongest claim to notice rests in 
 its extreme rarity.^ It lacks action, and is so filled with 
 moralization that it is more than tiresome. The first act con- 
 tains all the real development of the subject, only excepting 
 the murder of Lisandro and reinstatement of Aristomenes. 
 This being the case, the remaining two acts are very weak. 
 Obscure passages and inconsistencies abound; only one -example 
 of the latter need be given : If Lisandro was heir to the Greek 
 throne, why was some Greek expected to ask for it on the death 
 of Ariolante? In all respects it is the most careless of the 
 plays that I have examined, and has no point of merit to 
 recommend it. 
 
 The scene in Act II., where Aristomenes receives the peti- 
 tioners, much resembles a scene in Act II. of " Como Padre y 
 como Rey,^^ where Carlos is represented as doing likewise. 
 The object of both these passages is to show the justice of the 
 two rulers. 
 
 Scene : Athens. 
 
 II. 
 
 El Segundo Seneca de Espana. 
 
 Luis Cabrera de Cordoba's " Felipe Segundoj Rey de 
 Espanay^ published in 1619, has probably furnished to Mon- 
 
 1 There is no copy of this play in the Ticknor collection of the Boston Pub- 
 lic Library, nor in the British Museum, nor in the Royal Library at Madrid. 
 There are two copies in the National Library, Madrid, both formerly owned 
 by Gayangos. I learn from Sr. Menendez Pidal, through Dr. Rennert, that 
 Gallardo — vol. III., col. 1,213, fin. — is evidently in error in stating that 
 there is in the Royal Library a volume entitled : ** Comedias de Moreto,*' 
 which contains, among other plays, six comedias mdtas of Montalvan. No such 
 book now exists there, and if Gallardo actually saw the volume, it must have 
 since mysteriously disappeared. 
 
( 39 ) 
 
 talvan the material for this play/ which depicts events in the 
 life of King Philip the Second, from the uprising of the 
 Moors in Granada to his marriage with Anne of Austria. 
 The piece is' more interesting from its delineation of character 
 than as a dramatic production, for our author treats his subject 
 more like a chronicler than a dramatist. Historical fact is 
 adhered to with tolerable strictness, and there are but a few 
 anachronisms. The two most glaring are these : Montalvan 
 represents the Prince, Don Carlos, as still alive at the opening 
 of the play in 1570 — the year in which Don Juan of Austria 
 was sent against the Moors in Granada — while, in actuality, 
 he died in 1568. It was in 1567 that he attacked the Duke 
 of Alva with a dagger. Again : the appointment of Don Juan 
 as general of the League is given as almost simultaneous with 
 Philip's marriage with Anne of Austria, while, historically, 
 Philip was married in 1570, and Juan not appointed till the 
 following year. The death of Philip's third wife, Isabella of 
 France, is correctly given as occurring in 1568.^ 
 
 The delineation of character throughout is admirable, and, I 
 think, not surpassed in any play of our author. Philip we 
 have as history paints him, cold, haughty, austere, shrewd, a 
 fanatic adorer of his Church, indeed one of the greatest bigots 
 of that or any age, disliking personal conflict, and transacting 
 all business with his council in writing only. The Prince, 
 Carlos, is correctly represented as possessed of an ungovernable 
 temper, stubborn, conceited, intensely ambitious, and, withal, of 
 a sickly constitution. The other principal characters are just 
 as faithfully represented. 
 
 iTicknor, vol. 11. , p. 319, note 36. Schaeffer, vol. I., p. 442, states that 
 Montalvan has availed himself of Enciso's play : ^^El Principe Don Carlos,^' 
 some of the most effective scenes of which he has reproduced, and some of 
 whose characters have served as a model for his. The figure of Don Juan of 
 Austria in Montalvan' s piece is, however, a valuable addition of his own. 
 
 2 This date can be deduced from a line in the speech of the Cardinal, f. 18 : 
 '*Dos alios ha que la Reyna 
 
 passo desta a mejor vida." 
 The year in which he is speaking is 1570. 
 
(40) 
 
 The long scene in Act I., wherein Philip passes upon a num- 
 ber of petitions, is inserted with the evident intent of exhibit- 
 ing his character, and may be compared with similar passages 
 in " El Reynar para Morir '' and " Como Padre y como 
 Bey." 
 
 Philip's definition of perfect nobility, as given in one of his 
 speeches in this last mentioned scene,^ reminds one of what 
 Juvenal has to say on the same subject in his eighth Satire. 
 He there demonstrates that distinction is merely personal, and, 
 even though we may derive rank and titles from our ancestors, 
 we cannot be considered truly noble if we degenerate from the 
 virtues by which they obtained them. 
 
 The incident of the King granting a pardon to the son of 
 Pompeyo, the sculptor in Act III., recalls the story told by 
 Fitzmaurice-Kelly ^ of Philip the Fourth and the painter 
 Herrera, for both the Philips would stay the course of justice 
 to protect an artist.^ 
 
 The present piece forms part of the " Para Todos/^ folios 
 6-21, edition of 1645, and was also printed in part twenty- 
 five of " Comedian recopiladas de diferentes Autores t iUustres 
 Poetas de Espafia/^ Zaragoza, 1632.* It was there attributed 
 
 1 The lines referred to run as follows : 
 
 Y la perfeta nobleza 
 es aquella, que sirviendo 
 merece un hombre de bien, 
 por 8U virtud, y su esfuerzo. 
 Que ser noble por herencia, 
 es suerte, no entendimiento, 
 pues antes de aver nacido 
 ninguno merece serlo, 
 que no ay merito sin alma. 
 «P. 375. 
 
 ^The most striking contrast to the clemency of these rulers, as herein 
 exhibited, is found in the Koman Emperor Tiberius. When, on one 
 occasion, a poor workman presented to him some samples of malleable glass 
 of his own invention, he, in place of rewarding him for his discovery, 
 caused him to be executed, lest, if his invention should become known, the 
 value of gold might be depreciated. Vid. Petronius, Satires, cap. 51 ; 
 Dion Cassius, LVII., 21, and Pliny, Natural History, XXXVI., 66. 
 * Barrera, p. 684. 
 
(41) 
 
 to Gaspar de Avila. Quevedo in his " Perinola '' visits upon 
 this play the harshest censure. 
 Scene : Madrid and Segovia. 
 
 (b) COMEDIAS DE CaPA Y EsPADA. 
 
 I. 
 
 Conio Amante y como Honrada. 
 
 This exceedingly clever play is one of the very best of Mon- 
 talvan's efforts in this class, and forms such a close second to 
 "ia Doncella de Labor ^^ that the difference between their 
 merits is scarcely perceptible. The enredo is here more com- 
 plicated than in the other piece, but is worked out so skilfully 
 that nothing could be more clear and easy to follow. The 
 point upon which the action really rests — the concealment of 
 Ana's engagement to Juan till after Leonoras marriage to Lope 
 — is an odd one, and, no doubt, more justified by dramatic 
 necessities than ethics ; it is not made clear why Leonoras mar- 
 riage would become ^^ sospechoso ^^ if the engagement of her 
 sister were made public before the ceremony took place. 
 
 In Moreto's ^' La Gala del Nadar'^ we have a striking 
 parallelism to the idea of Lope's avenging himself upon Leonor, 
 for her supposed infidelity, by courting Ana. 
 
 Scene : Madrid. 
 
 11. 
 
 De un Castigo dos Venganzas. 
 
 Montalvan, himself, tells us that this tragic play is based on a 
 
 series of events which happened [in Lisbon, Portugal] less than 
 
 a year before he wrote it.^ From this assertion we can deduce 
 
 very closely the date of composition of the piece, for the expe- 
 
 1 This statement is made at the close of the piece, where Violante says : 
 ' ' Y aqui esta Comedia acaba, 
 historia tan verdadera, 
 que no ha cinquenta semanas 
 que sucedio. . . ." 
 
(42) 
 
 dition of the Portuguese to Brazil mentioned in Act III. took 
 place about the year 1624.^ Accordingly, 1625 or 1626 can be 
 given as the date of the dramatic adaptation. 
 
 The story is truly a chapter of the most repulsive horrors, 
 and is a shock to our sense of morality, however great are the 
 dramatic possibilities which it offers. One cannot enjoy the 
 recital of such events, and only the admirable way in which 
 they are here dramatized at all redeems them from what would 
 otherwise be a well-merited oblivion. The pure, energetic lan- 
 guage and well developed plot do our author great credit, and 
 we are gratified at the almost total absence of culteranismo and 
 the usually obtrusive gradoso. The blind and fatal devotion 
 of Leonor and Lope is skilfully drawn, and the awful closing 
 scene forms a fitting and effective climax to the prophetic gloom 
 which lies over the entire piece. It is one of our author's best 
 productions. 
 
 Quevedo, in his " Perinola" strongly censures its immoral 
 tone.^ 
 
 A play of Calderon bears a title very much like ours, — 
 " Un Castigo en tres Venganzas/^ — but in content has nothing 
 in common.^ 
 
 The present piece was printed in part twenty-five of " Come- 
 dias recopiladas de diferentes Autores ^ illustres Poetas de Es- 
 paMiy^ Zaragoza, 1632, and also in part forty-four of the same 
 series, Zaragoza, 1652.* It forms a portion of the third day's 
 entertainment in the " Para Todos/' folios 85-100, edition of 
 1645. 
 
 ^ The object of this great Spanish -Portuguese expedition was to recapture 
 Bahia, then the capital of Brazil, from the Hollanders, who had taken it in 
 war with Spain. 
 
 2 . . . bien se sabe que no fu6 suya [sc. comedia] otra cosa sino aquella 
 disoluta y desvergonzada accion de aquella mujer infernal. 
 
 "Schmidt, p. 174. 
 
 *Barrera, pp. 684, 687. 
 
(43) 
 Scene : Portugal. 
 
 (c) COMEDIA DE SaNTOS. 
 
 Santo Domingo en Soriano. 
 
 The title-hero, Santo Domingo, was born in 1170, at Cara- 
 loga in Old Castile, of parents noble in name — that of Guz- 
 man — if not in race. At Segovia he founded a monastery, and 
 at Madrid a convent for women. Later, he established, the 
 Third Order of the Dominicans. This Order spread rapidly 
 from its place of origin, which is not known. He died on the 
 sixth of August, 1221, at Bologna, and was buried there in the 
 Church of his Order. He was canonized by Gregory IX., in 
 1233. 
 
 The Dominicans were styled by a pun " Domi^i-canes," — 
 the Lord^s dogs, — and when the Inquisitorial power was 
 lodged in their hands, the torch, which kindled so many fires, 
 became an intelligible adjunct to their symbolical animal. 
 Hence the appearance in this piece of Domingo riding upon a 
 dog, and carrying a torch. ^ 
 
 It is surprising that this play should have passed the censor- 
 ship of the Inquisition and have been permitted to be per- 
 formed, in the face of the many seemingly sacriligious expres- 
 sions which it contains. The rdles of the graciosos. Chocolate 
 and Pierres, are certainly very incongruous with the sober, 
 religious conception which Montalvan would have us believe 
 permeates the piece. Not only does their foolery form a 
 strange and singularly inharmonious mixture with the would- 
 be sanctity, but from a dramatic standpoint it occupies too 
 much space, and would seem inserted, as so often happens, 
 merely to fill out the acts to their requisite length of ten pages 
 each. 
 
 1 1 have been able to indicate here but a few facts concerning this saint ; a 
 detailed life of him will be found in Baring-Gould, vol. for August, p. 40 flf. 
 A list of mediaeval authorities on his life is also there given. 
 
(44) 
 
 A lack of taste is shown in the very first scene by be- 
 ginning directly with a murder ; it would have been better to 
 suppose the duel to have taken place before the opening of 
 the play, and to have first introduced Domingo as seeking 
 shelter in the monastery. In this way an abrupt and unpre- 
 pared beginning would have been avoided. 
 
 The casting out of the devil from Gerarda by Fray Vicente 
 recalls a like incident in " El Hijo del Serafiuy San Pedro de 
 Alcdntaraj^ where Dorotea is cured of madness by San Pedro. 
 
 Scene : Soriano and the mountains near-by. 
 
 (d) COMEDIA DEVOTA. 
 
 Escaytderhech. 
 
 This piece relates the romantic conversion to Christianity of 
 George Castriota, who was dubbed by the Turks " Iskander- 
 beg," i. 6., '* the Prince Alexander." ^ 
 
 He was a famous patriot chief of Epirus, and was born in 
 that country in 1414. In 1423, he was given as one of the 
 Albanian hostages to the Sultan, Amurath II. So pleased was 
 the ruler with him that he was lodged in the royal palace as 
 his own son, brought up in Islamism, and instructed by skilful 
 masters. After distinguishing himself in Asia as a Turkish 
 pasha, he turned traitor to Amurath, being offended at the con- 
 fiscation of his paternal dominions. Together with three hun- 
 dred of his fellow-countrymen in the Turkish army he deserted, 
 fled to Epirus, and took possession of the country. Four armies 
 sent against him were annihilated, and finally Amurath him- 
 self took the field. Whether the latter would ultimately have 
 been victorious can only be conjectured, for he fell ill, and died 
 in 1450. Scanderbeg^s allies, the Epirote chiefs, now be- 
 came wearied of the continued strife and deserted him, some 
 even joining the Turks. He was undaunted by this, how- 
 ever, and battle after battle followed till at last, in 1467, 
 
 ^The anglicised form of the name is "Scanderbeg." 
 
(45) 
 
 worn out with the incessant toil of twenty-four years, the in- 
 domitable leader died at Alessio. He had vanquished the 
 Turks in twenty-two pitched battles ! ^ 
 
 Montalvan^s production is uninteresting and of no value. 
 The style is poor, and culteranismo is much in evidence. The 
 shortness of the piece — eighteen pages — must be remarked, 
 as also the absence of division into acts. The Albania, in 
 which was situate the city where Scanderberg first met Chris- 
 terna, is evidently not the country now known by that name, 
 but the ancient Albania.^ This district lay west of the Cas- 
 pian Sea, and corresponded to the modern Daghistan, Schirvan 
 and Leghistan. 
 
 The play forms part of the fifth day's entertainment in the 
 ''Para Todos/' folios 180-189, edition of 1645, and Mon- 
 talvan, himself, there states that the life of Scanderbeg was 
 written in two plays by Luis Yelez de Guevara. 
 
 An "Amurates'^ figures in Moreto's ''Dejar un Reino por 
 otro/' but whether he is identical with our Amurates, I am 
 unable to determine. 
 
 There is a play of either Belmonte or Luis Velez de Guevara, 
 entitled : " El gran Jorge Castrioto y Principe EscaTiderbeck/^ 
 which was printed in part forty-five of the ''Comedias escogi- 
 das/' Madrid, 1679.^ 
 
 Scene : A city in Albania and Constantinople. 
 
 ^ The biography of Castriota was written by Barlesio, an Epirote, and pub- 
 lished at Kome in 1537 under the title of : " De Vita et Moribus ac rebus gesti 
 Geo. Castrioti." 
 
 2 This is proved by the following : 
 
 (a) On leaving Christerna, after their first meeting, Scandenbeg states 
 that to return to Constantinople he must cross the river Tanais, the modern 
 Don, which flows into the Sea of Azov ; therefore he must have been east of 
 this river. 
 
 (6) When he reaches Constantinople, he informs the Sultan that he has 
 conquered "Arabia, Persia and Osiris." 
 
 (c) Christerna tells Scanderbeg that she is Queen '' of all that the Tigris 
 produces." 
 
 All this is conclusive evidence that the ancient — Koman — Albania is in- 
 tended. 
 
 ^Barrera, p. 703. 
 
(46) 
 
 V. 
 
 List of Full Titles of Works Quoted in Abbrevia- 
 tions IN THE Foot-notes and Text. 
 
 Baring-Gould = Lives of the Saints, by Eev. S. Baring- 
 Gould, new edition. London, 1898. 
 
 Barrera = Catdlogo BibliogrdfiGo del Teatro Antiguo Espaftolj 
 ^esde siis Origines hasta Mediados del Siglo XVIII. Por D. 
 Cayetano Alberto de la Barrera y Leirado. Madrid, 1860. 
 
 Fitzmaurice-Kelly = Historia de la Literatura Espanola, 
 desde los Origines hasta el Ano 1900, por Jaime Fitzmaurice- 
 Kelly ; traducida del Ingles y anotada por Adolfo Bonilla y 
 San Martin. Madrid, 1901. 
 
 Gallardo = Ensayo de una Bihlioteca Espanola de Libros 
 Raros y Curiosos, por D. Bartolom^ Jos6 Gallardo. Madrid, 
 1888. 
 
 M^rim^e = Essai sur la Vie et les Oeuvres de Frandsco de 
 Quevedoy par E. M^rim6e. Paris, 1886. 
 
 Rengifo = Arte Foetica Espanola, con una Fertilissima Sylva 
 de Consonantes Comunes, Fropios, Esdruxulos, y Reflexos, y un 
 Divino Estimulo del Amor de Dios. Su Autor, Juan Diaz 
 Rengifo. Barcelona, 1703. 
 
 Rivadeneyra = Bihlioteca de Autores Espanoles desde la For- 
 madon del Lenguaje hasta Nuestros Dia^, por J. Ramon de 
 Mesonero Romanos. Madrid, 1881. M. Rivadeneyra, editor. 
 
 SchaefiPer = Geschichte des Spanischen Nationaldramas, von 
 Adolf Schaeffer. Leipzig, 1890. 
 
 Schack = Historia de la Literatura y dd Arte Dramdtico en 
 Espafta, por Adolfo Federico Conde de Schack ; traducida 
 directamente del alemdn al castellano por Eduardo de Mier. 
 Madrid, 1887. 
 
 Schmidt = Die Schauspide Calderon^s, dargestellt und erlau- 
 tert von Friedr. Wilh. Val. Schmidt, Elberfeld, 1857. 
 
 Ticknor = History of Spanish Literature, by George Tick- 
 nor. * 3d edition. Boston, 1866. 
 
 Zeitschrift = Zeitschrift fur Romanische Fhilologie, heraus- 
 gegeben von Gustav Grober. Halle. 
 
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