The Translator of the Visions of Quevedo, can truly say, that the pleasure he himself derived from their perusal in the original, alone gave him the idea of translating them into English. It is believed by the writer of this article, that the present is the only English translation of the Visions of Quevedo, although they have been translated into many other languages, and into French no fewer than five several times by as many different authors: the last of which, that has fallen under his notice, was published at Paris in 1812, the plan of which has been followed in the present version. The advertisement to that edition, contains the following just remarks—“The Visions, are regarded as the most piquant production, that ever came from the fruitful and ingenious pen of Quevedo, one of the best Spanish writers. In general, the criticisms they present, although mixed with some tedious detail, have much point, and do not fail in their application at the present day.” It is hoped the reader will condescend to excuse any inaccuracies that have escaped the translator’s attention, and realize from the perusal entertainment sufficient to recompense him for his time.
Fracois de Quevedo de Villegas, a Spanish gentleman, and knight of the order of Saint James, was born in 1570, at Villa Nueva de l’Infantado; and not at Madrid, as has been asserted by Moreri, and repeated after him in the Historical Dictionary of Lyons. He was lord of Juan Abbate, in the province of La Mancha, an estate of which he bore the title. After having visited Italy, France, and all Spain, and rendered the most signal services to the Spanish ministry, he took up his residence at Madrid.
During his stay at court, he devoted himself to study and composition: being considered the most polished writer of his time, and one who united in himself the greatest versatility of talent. The taste of Quevedo naturally inclined him to fictitious composition. Endowed with keen perceptions, a vivid imagination, and rapidity of invention, he is not indebted to the drudgery of research, and other men’s thoughts for his immortal productions: depending solely upon his own resources, he was emphatically an original writer.
The author of the Spanish Library, expresses himself of Quevedo, in the following terms: “He knew how to reconcile the gravest studies with pleasantries and wit. His style is embellished with the ornaments of an adroitly managed application: he has so much finesse, such an immense fund of invention, of ideas as novel as ingenious—so much soft and delicate irony: he understands so well, whether in verse or prose, how to sketch with facility a pleasant or ridiculous subject, that among gay writers there is not one comparable to him. Nervous and sublime in heroic poetry, graceful in lyric verse, full of wit and gaiety in his sportive works, his genius illuminates the weakest subjects.”
His poetical effusions have been very much sought after. Nicholas Antonio, an excellent critic, says, also, that in the higher walks of poetry, he has force and sublimity. His luxuriant imagination carried him alternately to both sacred and profane verse. He wrote divers religious treatises, and many essays extremely amusing, besides translations in verse and prose. He published, among other works, the Spanish Panassus, and the novel known by the name of the Sharper.
His works have been published in four volumes folio, and in eleven volumes octavo. They comprise, under the title of Dreams or Visions, divers works of his, published at different times, in various places, and with different titles.
Quevedo, in his old age, was very infirm; and, at an advanced period of his life, was imprisoned by order of Count d’Olivarez, for a libel upon his administration, in which situation he remained till the death of the minister. He died at Villa Nueva de l’Infantado, the place of his birth, on the eighth day of September, 1645.
The prayers of the church being considered as the most efficacious remedies that can be employed against the possession of the devil, a malady almost invincible, some wealthy inhabitants of the country had brought into this city of Seville, one of their relations, who was thus afflicted, to confide his cure to a religious of renowned sanctity; or, in other words, for the purpose of having him exorcised. On the day assigned for this operation, the possessed was carried to the church of the Cordeliers, which very soon overflowed with spectators. The gates having been shut before my arrival, I engaged a religious of my acquaintance to admit me. He introduced me by the gate of the monastery; but I had no sooner entered the church, than I had reason to repent my curiosity: I was hustled by the crowd, and overcome with the heat. There my regards were attracted by an unhappy wretch, of an ill figure, with wild eyes and dishevelled garments, his hands bound behind his back, and uttering from time to time the most frightful yells. There was much impatience testified to behold this holy priest, of whom I have spoken, whose name was Juan de Cardanas, father of Barnadino de Cardanas, Capuchin, and Bishop of Paragua, in America. After the performance of mass, he found himself so much indisposed, that they were obliged to postpone the exorcism till another day. I was not sorry; for, not partaking in the credulity of the people, who often impute epileptical complaints to the operation of demons, I had for a long time been desirous of personally verifying those things they relate concerning the possessions of the devil. I lost no time in visiting the relations of this unhappy person, whom I shrewdly suspected had recourse to this adroit method to rid themselves of the inconvenience of certain pecadilloes he had been engaged in. I inspired them with sufficient confidence to obtain permission to visit their lodgings the following night, with a view of making such an examination as I should judge proper. I preferred this time to any other, that I might the better conceal the defeat of my enterprize if it should not succeed.
The night being come, I was introduced into the chamber of the possessed whom they had placed upon a bed in such a manner that he could not rise. The presence of his friends prevented me from the proposition of certain questions I had meditated. The following will serve as a sample:
Is it possible to find out the philosopher’s stone?
Can the quadrature of the circle be discovered?
Is there an universal panacea for every disease?
Is there among herbs, any simples which can inspire love in women, or protect from blows and wounds?
I had put in writing some other objects of my curiosity; but as it was not a convenient time to propound them, I began to feel the pulse of the possessed. It was frequent and elevated: from time to time his eyes were troubled; and he had convulsive movements, from which he suffered very much.
After having examined his body, I examined his mind, speaking to him in Greek, Hebrew, Turkish, Indian, and even in the Mexican tongue. He answered me always very appropriately in Spanish, which convinced me that he was in truth possessed with a devil; for although he spake not all languages, he nevertheless understood them, which could not naturally happen without study or travel. His relations assured me he had done neither the one nor the other.
I demanded of the demon, what name he had in hell?
He answered, “that he had no other appellation than that of the employment which he exercised in the world: that he had been for a long time in the service of an alguazil, in whom he inspired all the chicanery and wickedness with which he plagued poor people.”
Let us remark here, that the word alguazil is borrowed from the Moresco tongue, and signifies in Spanish, a constable, a cryer, a clerk, or other subaltern of justice.
“Why,” said I to the demon, “are you entered into the body of this man?”
“Because he was himself an alguazil, and a person of a licentious life. After having been banished from his paternal home, finding himself necessitous, he associated with alguazils to extort money, under pretence of executing the decrees of justice, and in the arrest of bodies, which he often abandoned for small sums. It was in the execution of this business, that he stole a silver cup from the house of a country curate, and subtracted a purse of one hundred ducats from the pocket of a man, who, for the stuff, was delivered from the hands of justice.”
I asked him if there were many of these people in hell?
“Very many,” answered he: “the constables have neither honour nor conscience; they drive their trade whether they know any thing of the matter or not: in that particular they resemble the poets. You shall scarcely find in hell, a single poet, who will not tell you that he was sent there on account of the versified lies he told in praise of some beauty. The poetic spirit hath its origin in the disposition of the heart, to receive tender impressions: it is the lover of heroism and romance; and to sustain this character, must necessarily make use of much artifice. The old poets serve as secretaries to young lovers; the young ones are ambitious of blazing as the heroes of their own compositions. There are so many poets in hell, that it can hardly fail of aggrandizing their quarter. I wish to speak in such a manner, that you may comprehend the nature of their occupations and torments there; but of which you cannot have an adequate idea, unless I shall here adduce some examples:—
“When these authors enter the subterranean abodes, they look around for a Charon, a dog Cerberus, a Rhadamanthus, a Pluto, and all the infernal divinities of fable. In place of that, the demons make them realize, that this is a place much more horrible than that: but this is not their severest punishment; they are forced to hear the compositions of other poets, who are their superiors in talent; then they are tormented by jealousy; they hate the epigrams of Martial, the stanzas of Catullus, the odes of Horace, the beauties of Virgil, the satires of Juvenal, the comedies of Terence, and the tragedies of Seneca. It is thus also the historians suffer, when they listen to the histories of Herodotus, of Titus, Livy, of Sallust, and of Cæsar.
“What a punishment for these rhymsters, when they recollect their own works! You cannot imagine the pain they experience, in finding a felicitous rhyme, a happy epithet, a just pause, or an harmonious cadence: they are more tormented by an a or an e, than Tantalus is by thirst, or the Italians are with their jealousy, when they have Frenchmen at their houses. And the comic poets, how are they punished, for having filched away the reputation of so many princesses and queens of Castile, of Leon, of Arragon, and other places! This is as fertile a field for them, as all the wars of the Moors of Granada; but for these larcenies, they suffer sharper agonies as Christians, than will ever be inflicted upon the barbarians and Mohammedans, for all their battles and burnings, or upon the alguazils, even for their violences and exactions.
“Behold, in review of the subject,” said the demon, who spake by the mouth of the possessed, “there is a much nearer resemblance between poets and alguazils, than one would, at a first glance, imagine.”
“A fine comparison,” said I, “for such a false spirit as you!”
“How!” answered he, “are not poets and alguazils both thieves? and if you would but confess it, you well know, that in making these remarks of poets, I speak to a poet, whom I wish to undeceive. Do you not recollect the old Spanish proverb, He who never composed two verses, had no wit; and he who produced four, was a fool?”
“I confess,” said I, “that to be a poet, one must have an original turn of imagination; and the same qualification is necessary to a painter: one would find it very difficult to assume, without merit, the rank of Apelles and Michael Angelo: but as they cannot justly call these celebrated artists so generally admired, fools, so neither do I believe they can accuse of folly the great poets of Spain, of Italy, of France, of Turkey, of Persia, and of China: for in all these places they have made verses.”
“Yes,” said he, “and in all these places there are fools, alguazils, painters, astrologers, jealous or complaisant husbands, mountebanks, perfumers, plagiaries, triflers, and slaves of business or pleasure. All these, under pretext of pleasure or justice, steal, without compunction, the wealth of others.”
“Oh!” said I to him, “I now recognize in you a true demon; you delight to lie, and in crying out that all who serve the public rob them, you enhance their reputation. But tell me what robbery a magistrate commits, when he obeys, and wishes to compel others to obey, the laws of his prince? when, in fine, he distributes to every one justice? Without justice, which punishes and avenges, no one could enjoy security in his own house. A whole city might be given up to pillage, and become more horrible than the hell you inhabit; a state of things which must excite a very just indignation among reasonable people; that is, among those who understand the principles of order, equity, and natural right. And what a picture would every family offer! Children opposing themselves to their fathers, and servants against their masters; brothers would make laws for brothers, and mothers have no authority over their daughters!”
“Behold,” said the demon, “a superb description of the disorder which would happen, if the gentlemen of justice did not make it their duty to become the first robbers!”
“Do you call the pecuniary penalties they impose, robbery?” replied I. “They are wisely established as a check upon avarice and usury, which are the ruin of families. The fines they impose are regarded sometimes as extortions; but they are not so; for if the community provided not for the necessities of all, do you believe that individuals would furnish of themselves, what is necessary for the republic? do you believe they would contribute without a demand? There is not among the officers of government, so much cupidity and bad faith, as you charge them with. But answer me: without their assistance, their care, their vigilance, would there be any security to emperors, kings, popes, and bishops in their beds, or repose in their dignities?”
“I have not,” said the demon, “so bad a tongue as you believe. I know, truly, all the affairs of the world, and the state of every condition in republics. In accusing the most of mankind, I do them no injustice: and those evils which you say would happen, without the assistance of those who are appointed to execute the laws, happen in spite of their wisdom. The worst of it is, they are brought about by those very persons who are expected to prevent it, and who are paid for that object. Whence has it arisen that so many emperors have been killed, so many kings dethroned, so many popes declared anti-popes, so many bishops dismissed, so many magistrates suppressed, so many families ruined, so many cities pillaged, so many provinces reduced to famine? It is by the ministers of justice, by the overseers of administrations, that all these things are done, either directly or indirectly: directly, with a view to profit by the disorder; or indirectly, from a culpable inertness. How do so many officers of the long robe contrive to live? They lengthen out their robes with the pieces they snatch from the officers of the short robes. A man who goes to law, may be compared to him who orders a coat: he will have a good coat, but yet not receive all the stuff he delivered to his tailor. He will take enough for two pair of sleeves, and two fore parts; he will take twice as many buttons, twice as much silk, binding, and lining, as is necessary for one garment; and you shall have but one, when you ought to have two out of the cloth you purchased. A Spanish grandee, wishing to have a coat in the French style, purchased as much cloth as the tailor demanded of him, whom he also left at liberty to take as much lining, assorted to the colour of the cloth. After they had taken his measure, he caused them to call the tailor, and told him that he desired the lining of one coat to be red, and that of the other yellow.
“‘How, my lord,’ said the tailor, ‘do you wish me to make two coats, when you have given me stuff but for one?’
“‘Yes; I do expect it,’ said the grandee; ‘and if you do not make them both sufficiently large, I will put you in a safe place.’
“The tailor, who feared the prison, made two garments as long and large as they ought to be, without purchasing another shred of cloth. When he brought them home, the lord caused all the stuff to be measured by an engineer, in his service; he found that it yet wanted half a quarter of an ell, besides the little pieces he was forced to cut out for the angles. This was not all; the Spanish grandee, whose name I can tell you, which was Don Pedro de Saccaso, wished that the master tailor should pay him for two garments, which he cabbaged out of stuff he had delivered him the preceding spring; and as the tailor cried out at this injustice, the grandee refused to pay him for the fashion, lining, and trimming of gold of these two last. Thus you will comprehend,” observed the demon, “in what particular the people charged with the administration of justice resemble tailors, and in what manner they are unjust, even in rendering justice. In their suits they generally make certain pieces of meadow or vineyard the object of contention; and if the parties complain of want of money to pay their fees, they take from them that which they demand at their tribunal.”
“So,” said I to the demon, “there is no justice upon earth!”
“No, no, there is none,” added he; “and it is not to-day, that for the first time the complaint has been uttered. The fable says, that Astrea being come with truth among men, was obliged to return to heaven, because no person would receive her. Truth met with the same fate, after having wandered through the world, sometimes among the Egyptians, sometimes among the Greeks, sometimes among the Romans, and sometimes even among the Chinese; she was constrained, at length, to retire to the house of a poor mute, who yet, by false and equivocal signs, gave her to understand that he wished to get rid of her company. She then returned to the place from whence she came. Justice perceiving they would not tolerate her in courts, among the abodes of princes, in palaces, or great cities, fled into the villages, where, however, she did not tarry a long-time; for the stewards of the lords, that is, those ignorant stewards who seek but to amass money with which to pay their charges, gave her chase, and forced her to regain her own country. The beauty of Astrea, or Justice, resembles that of the stars—shining, noble, and worthy of admiration; but this is only when beheld at a distance; for were you to approach too near to a star, although it appears to you so diminutive, it would consume you in an instant. Justice is fair, but she is proud, austere, rigid, inexorable, and no respecter of persons: she wishes to be sought and beloved, but she loves not one friend more than another; and like love, she travels a little in the rear. Is it possible to find any thing more exact, more faithful, more laborious, more submissive, more complaisant, than a violent love? It fails not in the minutest particular; it knows no concealment; nothing appears difficult to it; it is always ready to obey, accounting no toil disagreeable; in the desire, to please, it finds every thing just as it wishes. Justice does the same in another sense, for she meets with exactness in the slightest circumstance: she is faithful in the least things; she is laborious, and fears no pain; she is submissive to the laws which she imposes; she is complaisant for herself, and even sometimes appears unjust, so impartial and rigorous is she.”
“I suppose then,” said I, “there are many judges in hell, if what you say is correct, which seems to me very probable.”
“Yes,” replied the demon, “they are there in great numbers, and we have put them in the same place with thieves and robbers. One circumstance that will surprise you, is, that their multitude is as considerable as that of the amorous; although they have among the former, only the men who were judges: and among the latter, men and women who have loved once at least in their lives.”