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The fate of Calderon like all great writers has been that of all great writers, to
equally alike the victim of injudicious & exaggerated praise, & of
ill-founded & illiberal censure. It would be hard to say whether
the unwarranted eulogiums of his friends, or the violent attacks
of his enemies have been most injurious to his fair & honest fame.
The cold and genius chilling spirit of criticism which broked up to
the heartless compositions of the French theatre as the models of the
perfect drama threatened at one time to bury cover with oblivion all that is
noble sublime in passion – brilliant in language – or intense in conception in the old dramatists of Spain & England, – & to repress
or rather to destroy imaginations rich hopes for the future; – but the
danger is past. Their names are rescued, and for ever. The sublimity
of poetry is not to be measured by line & rule a barometer – its truths disdain
a mathematical demonstration – its colors are more than not confined to the hues
of the rainbow – its beauties will bow to no arbitrary standard of
taste – its harmony is not that of the notes of the gamut measured by a diapason. The
influence of that generation of critics is past over, who would fetter
a Poet's spirit as if it were a thing corporeal, & determine
before hand the length, weight & specific gravity of the chain by
which it is to be bound.
They would have set Shakespeare to measure his spirit-rousing verses by a
two inch rule, & have bidden Calderon sing to the or to eight out his "sweet fancies" by grains & scruples. They would have
of a French guitar. But the day of peril is past had Calderon abide in the narrow prison house of their own slavishness
that he might sing to the mi, fa, sol of a French guitar.
But the day of peril is gone by.
† I shall give an example of this sort of from the notes on Hamlet
by Moratin who may be doubtlessly considered as the first of modern Spanish
Dramatists. He is of the school of Molieré (several of whose plays he has translated)
& the beautiful & harmonious suavity of his versification is I think without rival – certainly
without a rival for a century & half.
I do not notice his eulogiums on Shakespeare – They contain nothing new. He says
the merit of this most sublime tragedy "is debilitated by inopportune events - by useless
& ill-prepared episodes - the display of the fiercest passions are is succeeded by the grossest dialogues, fit
only to excite the laughter of a dirty, drunken mob. The of The plot is entangled
& the author is compelled to tear list what he cannot untie; - the most improbable
circumstances are blended together, so that all illusion is destroyed. The arm of
is bared & is to be a color stained equally in with innocent & guilty blood.
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Identifier: | JB/110/125/004 "JB/" can not be assigned to a declared number type with value 110.
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110 |
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125 |
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004 |
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collectanea |
6 |
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recto |
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sir john bowring |
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36115 |
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