C. In what? That he has given to nature the power of adorning thee with such perfect beauty, and has vouchsafed to me the high favour of beholding thee, and that, too, in a place so well adapted for the communication of my secret grief. Doubtless the favour which has permitted me to come here is far beyond what could be procured by any services, sacrifices, and devotions. What man was ever, in this life, so glorified as I am this hour? Sure I am that the glorious saints who delight in the vision of Deity are not possessed of more bliss than is now mine in contemplating thee! But, alas! how very different is their case! They enjoy glory, from which they fear no fall, whilst my joy is alloyed by the pangs that await me on thy withdrawal.

M. Do you, then, so highly value this meeting?

C. Truly it is so inestimable, that were God to offer me the most precious blessings of earth, they were worthless in comparison ! M. Should you, however, persevere, I will confer on you a still greater blessing.

C. Oh how fortunate! Do I hear aright the music of thy voice? M. Unfortunate, rather! as thou shalt soon learn; for the penalty will be as severe as thou hast merited by thy rashness and the audacity of thy speech. How dares a fellow like thee think that a woman like me could trifle with her virtue? Begone! avaunt! Wretch! My patience brooks not the sight of a man so far inflated as to mention to me the delirium of an illicit amour!'

After this bitter reprimand Meliboa withdraws, and appears no more during the first act. Calisto remains on the stage with Sempronio his valet, to whom he communicates his despair-gets into a passion with him-chases him off-calls him back. He then describes his beloved, pouring out a torrent of theological and fabulous lore-a vain display, which, like the gross manners of the piece, was the fault of the age rather than of the individual author.

Sempronio endeavours to enliven the scene by his pleasantries, accusing his master of being a heretic, which seems a well-merited charge

Sempronio. Verily I protest that what you have just said is downright heresy!

Calisto. Why?

S. Because it is opposed to Christianity.

C. What do I care!

S. Are you, then, not a Christian?

C. I? I am a Melibean: Meliboa I adore; in Meliboa I believe; Meliboa I love.'

After an intolerably tedious scene, and sallies of wit not only indecent, but profane, Sempronio at last endeavours to console his master with the hackneyed idea, that his adored is 'but a woman

-that all women are frail—that all have capitulated—and that in her turn so will Meliboa: and he even goes the length of pledging himself that he will bring matters to the desired issue:

'C. But how will you accomplish this notable exploit?

S. Hear me for a short time have I known an old hag with a beard; she lives hard by, and her name is Celestina. She is crafty and subtle-an adept in sorcery-and versed in every species of intrigue. Only think it is said that in this town alone there are no fewer than five thousand young women whose reputation she has either destroyed or restored; nay, if she choose, she could breathe into the very rocks the frenzy of love!'

Sempronio is immediately sent in quest of her. He visits Celestina, and sets off with her immediately to join Calisto, whom they find attended by Parmenio, another of his valets. When they see the hag approaching, Parmenio gives free vent to the horror and contempt which is inspired at the sight of her, and Calisto demands his reasons for so much bitterness :

'Parmenio. That beldam inhabits, in a remote part of the town, a house half in ruins, miserably furnished, loathsome, and solitary, on the brink of a stream. Six different occupations there engage her haggard hands and solitary hours-laundress, perfumer, a dealer in philters and charins, a botcher of lost reputations, a busybody, and, to crown all--a witch. The first is a blind for all the rest. Under pretence of that, you may see numbers of femmes de chambres going to her squalid den with linen. With the most scrupulous women she has means at command for obtaining her ends. She chooses the most favourable hours for accomplishing her designs-at early mass, at nocturnal processions, at confessionals, and at all other devotional appointments. Frequently have I seen women in veils enter her abode, followed by barefooted wretches, penitents, men in hoods, who no doubt bent their steps thither to bewail their sins!'

Celestina is at length introduced to Calisto, who hastens to bring the hag the yellow bribe. She, meanwhile, remains with Parmenio, trying to corrupt him; and the dialogue is conducted with much spirit, displaying the skill of Celestina in all its insinuating wiliness. She speaks of her attachment to his mother -hints that the latter had intrusted her with money for him, which she has in safe custody-makes him laugh at her licentious ribaldry-advises him to attach himself to Sempronio rather than to his master, because the great have never any affection for the poor and lastly, she promises her good offices with Arethusa, whose love he shall possess. After this interlude scene, Calisto returns, fees her, and the act closes. Here, too, the original author stops, his production being already the length of an

ordinary comedy, though scarcely begun. We forbear to follow it further in detail: the arts of Celestina prove but too successful; the valets quarrel with the hag about dividing with them the bribe which she had received; they kill her in the scuffle, and are beheaded for their crime; their mistresses vow vengeance against Calisto as the cause of all; they prevail on some bandits to assassinate him; and Meliboa closes the tragedy by throwing herself from the top of a tower.

Few works have ever had more brilliant success than this drama, or rather dramatised romance. We do not learn that it was ever acted; but it was read by all classes of the people, relished perhaps more on account of the evil it described than for the moral lessons it was designed to convey.

The armies of Charles V. diffused it throughout Europe as the chef-d'œuvre of Spanish authors. It was transferred to the Italian and French languages, and printed in the original in various countries, to promote the study of its native tongue. Though it has long been condemned on moral grounds, yet the literati of Spain still regard it with pride, as having opened the way for the dramatic career of the other nations of Europe. In another respect it is an object of literary interest. The easy flow of the dialogue affords fair evidence that the fluent and natural style of dramatic conversation, which was attained among ourselves only after much labour and many failures, arose spontaneously in Spain on the first attempt of a gifted author to make dramatic characters speak in prose.

FURTHER ACCOUNT OF PROSE COMPOSITIONS DURING THE
SECOND PERIOD:-HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY.

In glancing at the prose compositions of this period, the national chronicles first claim our attention, especially as they were compiled, not by monks, as in other European nations, but by courtly and warlike knights, most of whom were poets as well as historiographers. The institution of Alphonso X., by which literary men were appointed to record the most remarkable events of national history, was maintained by his successors;

and beside these royal stipendiaries, other historians and biographers were found who wrote spontaneously, for the sake of doing honour to the parties to whom their chronicles related. Some also there were who seem to have had no motive but the desire of fame; and never, indeed, were historians held in higher estimation than these were during this period in Castile. But notwithstanding the auspicious circumstances which combined to revive the taste for this kind of composition, few of these noble authors rose above the vulgar chronicle style. They took the historical books of the Old Testament as their model; and so rigidly did they adhere to it, that, generally speaking, the only superiority displayed in their chronicles is a better choice of language than that used in the monkish records. Facts are added to facts in long succession by the help of the oft-repeated conjunction and; but we search them in vain for anything like adequate or spirited description. There are, nevertheless, some of these chroniclers who seem to have imitated the style and manner of the ancient Greek and Roman historians; at every favourable opportunity they put a short speech into the mouth of their hero, though unfortunately they always couch it in the language of civil law or holy Scripture. After this mode wrote Perez de Guzman, a celebrated poet, and Pedro Lopez de Ayala, grandchancellor of Castile, still better known than Guzman as a historian, in consequence of his having compiled from former chronicles a consecutive history of the Castilian monarchs of the fourteenth century.

LIFE OF COUNT PERO NIÑO DE BUELNA.

Among the works which in that day passed under the general name of chronicles, there are some biographical memoirs which deserve particular notice. The first is the life of Count Pero Niño de Buelna, one of the bravest cavaliers of the reign of Henry III. It was written about the close of the fourteenth century, probably by Gutiere Diaz de Gamez (1379–1453), standardbearer to the count. The Gothic taste of the age is abundantly manifest in this early specimen of biography. The chival rous author opens with an address to the Holy Trinity and the Blessed Virgin; he then proceeds to reason on the nature of virtue and vice in accordance with the schoolmen's notions of morality, before stating any of his facts, or introducing the hero of his narrative. He takes much pains to avoid the dry chronicle style, and endeavours to throw as much romantic interest as

possible around the life of the count, frequently embellishing his story with fabulous tales, and by no means confining himself scrupulously to historical truth. But he describes real events

with a spirit to which there is nothing similar in the national chronicles; and so remarkable are some of his descriptions for clearness and accuracy of expression, that they might be attributed to the pen of a modern author, did not the simplicity of the ideas betray the remoteness of the age to which the writer must have belonged. His estimate of the national character of

the French will be perused with interest :

"The French are a noble nation: they are wise, prudent, and discreet in all that pertains to good education in courtesy and goodbreeding. They display much taste in their apparel, and dress richly; they are much attracted by everything that is appropriate and congruous. They are frank and liberal; they delight in giving pleasure to every one; they honour foreigners very highly; they are skilful in giving praise, and bestow it on noble actions with much delicacy, elegance, and freedom. They are unsuspicious; they do not allow their pique or anger to continue long; and they never attack another's honour in word or deed unless their own be exposed to insult. In their speech they are courteous and graceful, and in conversation, which they encourage much, they are gay and animated. Both ladies and gentlemen are of an amorous disposition, and are proud of being thought so."'

We quote also a curious didactic passage :

'When Pero Niño was ten years old, he was committed to the care of a wise and learned man, in order that he might be instructed and trained in all the customs and manners which appertain unto a good and noble gentleman; and in the following manner did his learned tutor instruct him :

"Son, give heed; as you are of a very high and honourable lineage, and as that wheel of the world, which is never at rest, nor leaves things always in a good state, has descended to you, and of the great makes small, and of the high makes low and poor. To your lot it falls to fight and labour in your appointed place in this realm, and if possible to surpass in greatness and nobility those from whom you are descended; for it is no marvel for a man to be equal to his father in maintaining that estate which he left to him, but it is much credit to surpass all those from whom he has sprung, and to occupy a greater space.

"Son, give good heed to my sayings; prepare your heart by my words, and retain them in it, that hereafter you may understand. It becomes not him who has to learn and use the art of a cavalier that he should spend long time in the school of letters. Take advantage now of that so far as may be-a portion of what time is still left to you will suffice.