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LEGENDS, TALES AND POEMS BY
GUSTAVO ADOLFO BECQUER EDITED
WITH INTRODUCTION, NOTES AND VOCABULARY BY
EVERETT WARD OLMSTED, PH.D.
ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF THE ROMANCE LANGUAGES IN CORNELL UNIVERSITY
TO
MY MOTHER PREFACE
In preparing this collection of Becquer's legends, tales, and short poems, which is the only annotated edition of this author's works that has been published as yet for English-speaking students, the editor has aimed to give to our schools and colleges a book that may serve, not only as a reader for first or second year classes, but also as an introduction to Spanish literature, through the works of one of the most original and charming authors of the Spanish Romantic school.
Fondness for good literature should be stimulated from the very first, and the quaint tales and legends of old Spain contained in this edition, told, as they are, in a most fascinating style, are well adapted to captivate the student's interest and to lead him to investigate further the rich mine of Spanish literature. Becquer's poetry is no less pleasing than his prose, and not much more difficult to read. With the aid of the ample treatise on Spanish versification contained in the introduction, the student will be enabled to appreciate the harmony and rhythm of Becquer's verse, and in all subsequent reading of Spanish poetry he will find this treatise a convenient and valuable work of reference.
The Life of Becquer, though concise, is perhaps the most complete that has yet been published, for it embodies all the data given by previous biographers and a certain number of facts gathered by the writer at the time of his last visit to Spain (in 1905-1906), from friends of Becquer who were then living.
The vocabulary has been made sufficiently complete to free the notes from that too frequent translation of words or phrases which
often encumbers them.
The notes have been printed in the only convenient place for them, at the bottom of each page, and will be found to be as complete and definite as possible on geographical, biographical, historical, or other points that may not be familiar to the student or the teacher. All grammatical or syntactical matter, unless of a difficult or peculiar character, has been omitted, while the literary citations that abound will, it is hoped, stimulate the student to do further reading and to make literary comparisons of his own.
It remains for the editor to express his profound gratitude to the following gentlemen for their aid in collecting facts regarding Becquer and for their encouragement of this work: the Excmo Sr. Conde de las Navas, the Excmo Sr. Licenciado D. Jose Gestoso y Perez, and the Excmo Sr. D. Francisco de Laiglesia. It is his pleasure also to convey his thanks to Professor George L. Burr of
Cornell University for aid in certain of the historical notes, and most especially to gratefully acknowledge his indebtedness to the aid, or rather collaboration, of Mr. Arthur Gordon of Cornell University, and Mr. W. R. Price of the High School of Commerce, New York City.
EVERETT WARD OLMSTED
1
CORNELL UNIVERSITY Ithaca, N.Y.
CONTENTS INTRODUCTION
LIFE OF BECQUER
UNPUBLISHED LETTER OF BECQUER BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
SPANISH PROSODY
DESDE MI CELDA--CARTA SEXTA LOS OJOS VERDES
LA CORZA BLANCA LA AJORCA DEL ORO
EL CRISTO DE LA CALAVERA EL BESO
MAESE PEREZ EL ORGANISTA LA CRUZ DEL DIABLO
CREED EN DROS LAS HOJAS SECAS RIMAS VOCABULARY
INTRODUCTION LIFE OF BECQUER
"In Seville, along the Guadalquivir, and close to the bank that leads to the convent of San Jeronimo, may be found a kind of lagoon, which fertilizes a miniature valley formed by the natural slope of the bank, at that point very high and steep. Two or three leafy white poplars, intertwining their branches, protect the spot from the rays of the sun, which rarely succeeds in slipping through them. Their leaves produce a soft and pleasing murmur as the wind stirs them and causes them to appear now silver, now green, according to the point from which it blows. A willow bathes its roots in the current of the stream, toward which it leans as though bowed by an invisible weight, and all about are multitudes of reeds and yellow lilies, such as grow spontaneously at the edges of springs and streams.
"When I was a boy of fourteen or fifteen, and my soul was overflowing with numberless longings, with pure thoughts and with that infinite hope that is the most precious jewel of youth, when I deemed myself a poet, when my imagination was full of those pleasing tales of the classic world, and Rioja in his silvas to the flowers, Herrera in his tender elegies, and all my Seville singers, the Penates of my special literature, spoke to me continually of the majestic Betis, the river of nymphs, naiads, and poets, which, crowned with belfries and laurels, flows to the sea from a crystal amphora, how often, absorbed in the contemplation of my childish dreams, I would go and sit upon its bank, and there, where the poplars protected me with their shadow, would give rein to my fancies, and conjure up one of those impossible dreams in which the very skeleton of death appeared before my eyes in splendid, fascinating garb! I used to dream then of a happy, independent life, like that of the bird, which is born to sing, and receives its food from God. I used to dream of that tranquil life of the poet, which glows with a soft light from generation to generation. I used to dream that the city that saw
my birth would one day swell with pride at my name, adding it to the brilliant list of her illustrious sons, and, when death should put an end to my existence, that they would lay me down to dream the golden dream of immortality on the banks of the Betis, whose praises I should have sung in splendid odes, and in that very spot where I used to go so often to hear the sweet murmur of its waves. A white stone with a cross and my name should be my only monument.
"The white poplars, swaying night and day above my grave, should seem to utter prayers for my soul in the rustling of their green
and silver leaves. In them the birds should come and nest, that they might sing at dawn a joyous hymn to the resurrection of the spir-it to regions more serene. The willow, covering the spot with floating shadows, should lend to it its own vague sadness, as it bent and shed about its soft, wan leaves, as if to protect and to caress my mortal spoils. The river, too, which in flood tide might almost come and kiss the border of the slab o'ergrown with reeds, should lull my sleep with pleasant music. And when some time had passed,
and patches of moss had begun to spread over the stone, a dense growth of wild morning-glories, of those blue morning-glories with a disk of carmine in the center, which I loved so much, should grow up by its side, twining through its crevices and clothing it with their broad transparent leaves, which, by I know not what mystery, have the form of hearts. Golden insects with wings of light, whose buzzing lulls to sleep on heated afternoons, should come and hover round their chalices, and one would be obliged to draw aside the leafy curtain to read my name, now blurred by time and moisture. But why should my name be read? Who would not know
2
that I was sleeping there?"[1]
[Footnote 1: Obras de Gustavo A. Becquer, Madrid, 1898, vol. II, pp. 242-245. This edition will be understood hereafter in all references to the works of Becquer.]
So mused the poet Becquer[1] in the
