THE DON JUAN LEGEND IN SPANISH LITERATURE, 
 WITH SPECIAL REFERENCE TO THE DRAMA 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS AUSTIN FITZGERALD 
 A. B, University of Missouri, 1913 
 
 THESIS 
 
 Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the 
 
 Degree of 
 
 MASTER OF ARTS 
 IN ROMANCE LANGUAGES 
 
 IN 
 
 THE GRADUATE SCHOOL 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 
 1921 
 

 
 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 
 
 
 https://archive.org/details/donjuanlegendinsOOfitz 
 

 CONTENTS 
 
 I. Introduction . 
 
 • t 
 
 
 1 
 
 II. The Legend 
 
 • • 
 
 
 7 
 
 III. El Bur lad or 
 
 t • 
 
 
 15 
 
 IV. £Tan largo me lo 
 
 fiais? 
 
 
 29 
 
 V. La Venganza en el 
 
 sejpulcro 
 
 
 35 
 
 VI, No hay plazo que 
 
 no se cumola 
 
 43 
 
 VII. Don Juan Tenorio 
 
 • • 
 
 
 51 
 
 VIII. Minor Plays and Poems 
 
 
 81 
 
 IX. Conclusion 
 
 • • 
 
 
 89 
 
 Notes 
 
 • • 
 
 
 96 
 
 Bibliography . 
 
 • • 
 
 • 
 
 . 101 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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I. INTRODUCTION 
 
 Different persons, being asked point-blank to express 
 the idea with which the term "Don Juan" is associated in their 
 minds, would doubtless give slightly different reactions, but in 
 all probability there would be a common element, which would be 
 at the same time the dominant one. The commonest conception of 
 a "Don Juan" is probably a young man who lives the notion that ev- 
 ery woman is fair game, and who does not stop short of complete 
 conquest unless his efforts are earlier proved useless. Along 
 with this idea doubtless exists that which would have a "Don Juan" 
 to be merely a sociably inclined young man with leanings toward 
 the other sex, a ready talker, a stranger to embarrassment, and 
 popular, but nevertheless perfectly chaste. Of course, these con- 
 ceptions are parallel most of the way; in the fundamental element 
 of association with the opposite sex they are the same thing. No 
 one would call a drunken reveler, as such, a "Don Juan"; no one 
 would call a blasphemer a "Don Juan" on that account; no one would 
 call a professional gambler a "Don Juan" for that reason. Each of 
 these characters may , in addition, be a "ladies' man" and thus be 
 called a "Don Juan". Provided that the fundamental element is 
 present in notable degree, the addition of others does not take 
 the character out of the category of "Don Juans". 
 
 The fundamental element is itself, however, subject to 
 certain restrictions. That is, the relations with women must have 
 

 
 
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 no commercial aspect; a "Don Juan" does not buy women, either for 
 his own purpose or to pass on to others for a consideration. I am 
 quite certain that the general feeling would be that such a use of 
 the term "Don Juan" as that made by Michael Heseltine in his trans- 
 lation of Petronius Arbiter's Satyricon ^ where he renders the term 
 "agaga" by "Don Juan", is not in accordance with the common con- 
 ception of the term. In other words, Don Juan is in no jot of his 
 character a pimp. The term names a human weakness, not a human 
 perversion. In some sections of the country where ideas of chiv- 
 alry are not very acute, the use of the term by a friend would be 
 considered the most sincere flattery, in much the same way as a 
 reputation for the ability to drink large amounts of intoxicating 
 liquors is in many sections a matter to be boasted of with pride. 
 Even under such circumstances as would make the application of the 
 term offensive, it does not become an epithet of deep opprobrium. 
 That is, the popular use of the expression is entirely lacking in 
 such connotation as would make it a satisfactory expression of 
 abuse. Whether the phrase connotes a "roue" or a clean-minded 
 young man who finds his greatest pleasure in frank intercourse 
 with young women, its use does not indicate abuse, or scarcely 
 even reproval, but rather good-natured tolerance; perhaps it may 
 have a tinge of friendly envy, or may even, many times, express 
 frank admiration, for it would not be applied across the line that 
 divides the two classes for whom the connotation differs. In Va- 
 lera's Pepita Jimenez , Don Luis speaks of his father as "una es- 
 pecie de D. Juan Tenorio" (p. 24), and this is typical of its use, 
 except that perhaps the expression does not hold quite so digni- 
 fied a position as one might be led to believe by seeing it in 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 Pepita Jimenez . Picatoste informs us that the expression "es un 
 Tenorio" is very common in Spain, but that the phrase has not been 
 and will not be applied to a criminal who cynically commits the 
 same crimes as Tenorio, nor to a hypocrite who indulges his vices 
 in the dark, or under the veil of virtue. Professor Waxman 3 sug- 
 gests as equivalent to the Spanish phrase the American slang ex- 
 pressions "He is a lady-killer" and "He is a devil with the women" 
 So much for the term. As to the legend, how well or 
 widely is it known? I think it is safe to say that in its entire- 
 ty the legend is known to comparatively few people in our country. 
 Very little study has been given to it by our scholars, and liter- 
 ary references to it are very rare. No American versions of the 
 theme have come to my attention, and those in English literature 
 are early and very different from the original. Of the earliest 
 English treatment. Professor Waxman says (p. 193), "Shadwell took 
 the already distorted and misrepresented Don Juan, and in his 
 Libertine , published in 1676, presented one of the vilest, most 
 inhuman wretches ever characterized. For gross filth, Shadwell' s 
 Libertine surpasses by far all other renderings of the legend. 
 
 Full of fire, rapine, and murder, it would horrify the most ex- 
 treme melodramatic taste". Robert Lovelace, the chief male char- 
 acter in Samuel Richardson's Clarissa Marlowe (1747), is obvious- 
 ly patterned after Don Juan, but does not suggest either the leg- 
 end or its hero in its original form. In 1819, Lord Byron issued 
 the first part of a fragmentary epic called Don Juan , but it like- 
 wise fails to give any idea of either the real Don Juan or his 
 legendary setting. Some time before the middle of the same cen- 
 tury, Thomas William Moncrieff wrote Giovanni in London, or the 
 

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 Libertine Reclaimed , "a poor operatic extravaganza" 4 in two acts, 
 showing Don Juan as Moncrieff conceived him after he had been 
 driven out of Pluto’s realms for alleged intimacies with the queen, 
 Proserpina, and the royal maids of the court of the King of Hades, 
 its principal connection with the legend is the mention of some 
 familiar names and the brief, humorous telling in doggerel verse 
 of the argument of El Burlador . 
 
 Professor Hills' catalog® of Spanish plays that have 
 been translated into English does not contain Tirso's Burlador . 
 nor Zamora's version, nor Zorrilla's popular play, and it would 
 seem that these plays sire all unavailable to English readers/ In 
 fact, serious study of the matter in any country is of compara- 
 tively recent date. Farinelli, an Italian, made the first schol- 
 arly investigation® of it just twenty-five years ago, and four 
 years later, when adding some notes to his previous study 7 , he ex- 
 pressed the hope that some one would study the legend thoroughly. 
 Gendarme de Bevotte, a Frenchman, did this and published the re- 
 sults of his study in 1906. 8 To this material he added another 
 volume five years later. In 1908, Said Armesto, a Spaniard, pub- 
 lished the results of a scholarly investigation into the sources 
 of the legend.^ 
 
 The only American study I have come across is one by 
 Professor Waxman, which was published in the Journal of American 
 
 *Alonso Cortes calls attention, in his study on Zorrilla 
 (p. 441, note), to an adaptation in English of Zorrilla's Don Juan 
 Tenor io , which was made by Mrs. Gabriela Cunningharae Graham under 
 the title of Don Juan's Last Bet . It was played in London in 1900, 
 but was not received with any warmth. Alonso Cortes attributes 
 this latter fact to the freedom with which Mrs. Graham changed 
 Zorrilla's play. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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5 
 
 Folk-Lore ! 0 The brief articles appearing in our Encyclopaedias, 
 the Americana (1918 edition) and the New International (1915 edi- 
 tion), do not purport to be scholarly studies and have little or 
 no value beyond their bibliographies. Both are unsigned (unless 
 the one in the Americana is to be considered as signed by the 
 writer of the article immediately following, which bears the same 
 heading but treats of the play of that name by Moliere)-^ and 
 there is much similarity in the two. The only other material con- 
 cerning the legend that I have been able to find in English is 
 that which the eminent English scholar, Fi tzmaurice-Kelly , has 
 published in the New Review and in the Encyclopaedia Britannica . 
 The first is not comprehensive, being merely a review of an Ital- 
 ian study (that of de Simone Brouwer), nor easily available. The 
 latter is unsatisfactory by reason of its brevity, though somewhat 
 longer than the articles in the American Encyclopaedias, and of 
 not being up to date in point of scholarship. 
 
 As popular conceptions of the term have differed, so 
 have literary expressions. The original Don Juan, as presented by 
 Tirso de Molina in his play entitled El Burlador de Sevilla, y 
 Convidado de piedra , in the seventeenth century, exhibits a cer- 
 tain definite character, and each succeeding treatment has changed 
 him in some degree, great or small. Along with changes in the 
 character of Don Juan himself have taken place changes in the ve- 
 hicle in which he is presented. Starting in the theatre, he has 
 appeared since in other forms of poetry and in prose. He has not 
 remained in Spain; on the other hand, he first became popular out 
 of Spain, in Italy and in France, and from there he spread to Ger- 
 many, England, and Russia, and now has his counterpart in almost 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 every known literature. 
 
 It is my task to follow him through his development in 
 Spain, particularly in the drama. He first appears as an entity 
 in Tirso de Molina's play already named, published in Barcelona 
 
 in 1630, but supposedly written about 1625 during or shortly after 
 
 / 
 
 a trip made by the author through Andalusia. A variant of El Bur- 
 lador appeared later, probably during the latter half of the cen- 
 tury, with the title of £Tan largo me l o flais? , the authorship of 
 which has long been uncertain. Cotar elo y Mori, however, has of- 
 fered a suggestion that seems to meet approval, that is, the name 
 of Claramonte. Somewhere along here comes a play of very uncer- 
 tain date by Alonso de Cdrdoba y Maldonado, entitled La Venganza 
 en el sepulcro ,and characterized in one study, the reference to 
 which I have misplaced, as "une mediocre imitation du Burlador 11 . 
 This existed only in manuscript form up to 1907 and is "almost un- 
 known to recent writers on Don Juan", according to Cotarelo y Mo- 
 ri. 12 Jose Franquesa y Gomis published a study of this play in 
 Homena.ie a Menendez y Pelayo , Madrid, 1899. Early in the eight- 
 eenth century, Antonio de Zamora made a "refundicidn" of El Bur- 
 la-dor entitled ho hay plazo que no se cumpla ni deuda que no se 
 pague , y Convidado de piedra . In the following century, in 1844, 
 Jose Zorrilla wrote his Don Juan Tenorio , so popular for over 
 three quarters of a century. Numerous parodies or burlesques of 
 these serious attempts at a "theatre edifiant" have made their ap- 
 pearance and doubtless have had their day, but are of so little 
 importance that even a list of their titles is unavailable. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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II. THE LEGEND 
 
 The latest scholarship, represented by Gendarme de b£- 
 votte, recognizes that the Don Juan legend does not antedate the 
 early part of the seventeenth century* 8<§votte goes a step fur- 
 ther and says that the legend started in Spain, with the C on vi da- 
 do de piedra . "Donjuanisme" , however, existed earlier, — much 
 earlier. It is a general phenomenon, inherent in human nature.* 
 Tirso gave the name, but not life, to the legend. Libertines had 
 existed before Tirso, even on the stage; but that is not the Don 
 Juan legend. Moving and speaking statues had existed before Tir- 
 so; but again, that is not the Don Juan legend. What, then, is 
 the Don Juan legend? It is the combination of divine justice 
 meted out to a blasphemous libertine through the supernatural 
 agency of a moving and speaking statue which is invited by the 
 libertine to partake of a meal with him, and returns the invita- 
 tion. No less than this constitutes the legend. Where did Tirso 
 get it? Was it purely original invention? No, and yes. 
 
 In the first half of the nineteenth century a Frenchman, 
 Viardot, probably hoodwinked by guides in Seville, published what 
 was long accepted as a historical basis of the legend. The story 
 is told by Aim6 Martin, quoted by Charles Louandre in his edition 
 
 *'Said Armesto, in his study entitled La Levenda de Don 
 (p* 89 ) j mentions, but leaves unnamed, a friend of his, "di- 
 ligente donjuanbf ilo" , who asserts that "acaso este en el Priapo 
 pagano el molde formatriz, esquema o pref iguraci<5n orofetica del 
 Burlador " . 
 
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of Moliere's works, Vol. II, as the source of Moli&re‘s Don Juan . 
 It is as follows: 
 
 "The chronicles of Seville speak of Don Juan Teno- 
 rio, one of the ' veinte-cuatros' , a debauched and perverse 
 man, putting his immorality under the protection of his rank. 
 He seized and carried away the daughter of the Comendador de 
 Calatrava, Don Gonzalo de Ulloa, and to the rape added mur- 
 der; the old man trying to pursue the ravisher, fell pierced 
 by a thrust of his sword. His family, in despair, could not 
 obtain justice. Don Juan, emboldened by his triumph, terror- 
 ized Seville; no one dared put any obstacle in his way. The 
 Comendador had been buried in the church of the San Francis- 
 can monks, where the Ulloa family had a chapel. The monks 
 undertook to stop Don Juan in the midst of his criminal ca- 
 reer, and supplement the powerlessness of the laws and the 
 cowardice of the magistrates. Only one means presented it- 
 self, — the death of the guilty one. He was condemned. He 
 received a letter from an unknown woman, who said she was 
 young and beautiful, and who gave him a rendezvous in the 
 church of the Franciscans, at a late hour of the night. Don 
 Juan went there and never came back; his body was not even 
 found. The next day, the monks announced that Don Juan had 
 
 come to insult the statue of the Comendador — had come into 
 
 the very chapel. The man of marble assumed life, the earth 
 opened, and the impious one fell living into hell. What Span- 
 iard dared doubt a miracle attested by the monks, and besides 
 so useful to the general welfare! The miracle was then rec- 
 ognized as true, and human justice gave up the pursuit. ... 
 
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At that time there was living in this convent a "religieux" 
 named Gabriel Tellez, who, ... under the name of Tirso de Mo- 
 lina, treated the subject of Don Juan." 
 
 This seemed a very plausible solution of the origin of 
 the Burlador , but ilen4ndez y Pelayo 16 discovered that the chroni- 
 cles of Seville did not contain the story. They were very full, 
 however, and would very likely have had the account if it were a 
 historical fact. The searches of a French and an Italian scholar 
 have likewise failed to show a single trace of any historical Don 
 Juan^-f No historical stories contain the single element which 
 constitutes the originality of the Burlador , — namely, the mir- 
 acle of the statue. In the absence of a historical character, 
 there have been attempts to find a literary prototype, and so nu- 
 merous are similar characters in history and literature that many 
 suggestions have been offered, but no character has been found 
 that offers sufficient analogy of episodes, crimes, and mysterious 
 death to be the prototype of Tirso* s immortal Don Juan. 16 
 
 The legend contains two distinct themes: 16 "first, the 
 character of the dissolute youth, of the audacious, insolent, and 
 licentious man, skilled in courting and importuning women, *a very 
 devil, impenitent and terrible', a type not at all unusual, a type 
 known from an early date on the stage, as proved by Cueva's Infa- 
 mador , by Cervantes' Rufian dichoso . by Amescua's Esclavo del de- 
 taonlo and El Negro del mejor amo , by Lope's Fianza satlsfecha ", 
 Cardenal d e Belen , and San Diego de Alcala , and by Tirso' s own 
 Condenado por desconfiado : second . the final condemnation of the 
 
 hero for having mocked the dead, and in an unusual way, — namely, 
 by inviting the dead to supper. Here is "indisputably the funda- 
 
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 mental point of the legend that Tirso has perpetuated". 17 There 
 have been many animated statues in literature, 16 but they have no 
 relation to Tirso 1 s drama, the essential part of which, again I 
 mention it, is the invitation. Don Juan logically became angry at 
 the word "traitor" in the epitaph on the stone above the Comenda- 
 dor's grave, as others had felt anger toward statues before, but 
 Don Juan makes an abrupt transition to a perfectly illogical in- 
 vitation to eat. The germs of this. Said Armesto tells us, 19 must 
 be sought in the superstitious practice, of great antiquity, of 
 regaling the dead at certain times on food and drink. 
 
 As for the trait of a mortal braving the dead, the lit- 
 erature of the early seventeenth century has a whole galaxy of men 
 who do not fear to face the supernatural. Micael de Carvajal's 
 Las Cortes de la muerte of the sixteenth century already has in 
 it, in the character of the Portuguese, who is really a Don Juan 
 in caricature, such an example of bravado. Espinel's Vida del 
 escudero Marcos de Obregdn (1618), contains a passage of this 
 kind. Analogous to this is the scene dramatized by Lope in his 
 Marques de las navas . Others, by Lope and other writers, men- 
 tioned and quoted by Said Armesto, 20 have scenes of this sort, 
 showing ample suggestion for Tirso' s play, but no model. 
 
 To Tirso, then, must be given the credit for originating 
 the legend as such, and for supplying the basis for later develop- 
 ments and modifications of it, as well as for suggesting the sec- 
 ondary legends that have grown up about his. The most important 
 of these is that of the libertine who, seeking to enjoy the fa- 
 vors of a nun, goes to invade a convent one night and finds the 
 church open and a funeral service in progress. Inquiry elicits 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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11 
 
 the information that the funeral is his own. After recovering 
 from his fright, the hero is converted and decides to embrace a 
 monastic life. For many years he lives in the most ascetic piety, 
 and when about to die, he asks that he be buried under the floor 
 in order that he may be trampled under foot by the worshipers as 
 they enter the church, and that his resting place be marked by 
 this epitaph: "Here lies the body of the worst man in the world." 
 This story is told about a historical person of rank in Seville 
 named Miguel de Mafiara, and has been combined with the Don Juan 
 legend. There has even been an attempt to establish Mafiara as the 
 historical personage upon which the Burl ado r was based. But since 
 Mafiara was born in 1626, and could have been at most only four 
 years old, and possibly unborn, at the time the Burlador was writ- 
 ten, this theory is not a possibility. Moreover, this tradition 
 existed already in the sixteenth century; therefore the Mafiara 
 legend was not the first combination of the two parts. Antonio 
 Torquemada's Jardfn de flores curicsas 2 1 and a sixteenth century 
 play, sometimes attributed to Lope, called El Nifio diablo .tr eat 
 the idea, as also do the old ballad Lisardo el estudiante de C6r- 
 doba, Cristdbal Lozano's Soledades de la vida y desenganos del 
 mundo , and Lop e ' s Vaso de eleccidn . 
 
 The combination of the two themes — the stories of Te- 
 norio and Mafiara — gains entry into the modern literature on the 
 legend through a novel by Prosper Merimee, Les Ames du pur g ratoire , 
 so well told that one loses sight of its shortcomings, but never- 
 theless of little importance except for the "fact that it became 
 a storehouse for future adaptations". 22 M4rim£e says 23 that Se- 
 ville has had several Don Juans, and that many other cities have 
 

 
 
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12 
 
 had their own. Formerly each had a separate legend, but in the 
 course of time these were combined. Two individuals, however, 
 stand out: namely, Don Juan Tenorio, of stone statue fame, and Don 
 Juan de Marana ( sic ) , who had quite a different end. M^rimee's 
 story, he himself tells us (p. 299), recounts only things not told 
 of Tenorio, who is so well known through Moliere and Mozart. Me- 
 rimee's Don Juan comes of a good family in which he has had care- 
 ful rearing, but he goes astray under the tutelage of an evil com- 
 panion when he enters the University of Salamanca. After he en- 
 ters the monastery, much later, he is a model of piety for sever- 
 al years. One day the brother of one of his victims comes to the 
 monastery to be avenged, planning to kill Don Juan in mortal sin 
 and thus bring about the damnation of his soul. The brother 
 brings two swords and tries to get Don Juan to engage with him. 
 Being unsuccessful, he slaps the monk in the face, whereupon the 
 latter siezes one of the swords and kills his antagonist. The af- 
 fair is kept quiet, the dead body being easily accounted for as 
 the monks see fit, and for ten years more Don Juan continues his 
 pious life, performing every act of penance that the superior sets, 
 one being to allow himself to be slapped by the cook every morn- 
 ing. After his death, he is buried, at his request, where people 
 entering the church will trample him under foot. 
 
 The great difference between this legend and that of the 
 stone guest makes it seem strange that they should have been con- 
 fused, and perhaps it was not so much a matter of confusion as of 
 intentional combination on the part of the Romanticists. Stranger 
 confusions have arisen, however. Don Juan became confused with 
 Faust in Germany early in the eighteenth century, and Waxman 
 

 
 
 
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 points out (p. 184) that such German criticism as he has examined 
 is prejudiced by the Faust legend. Much has been written by the 
 Germans on the Don Juan legend, but their criticism sheas no new 
 light on the subject, and their literary works are not Don Juan 
 versions, but hybrid Don Juan-Faust productions. A careful exami- 
 nation of the beginnings of the Faust legend clearly proves, con- 
 trary to German opinion, that there is no connection between them, 
 whatever chance similarity may have developed by Goethe's time. 
 
 W. A. Phillips, in his excellent short sketch of Faust in the En- 
 cyclopaedia Britannica , has this to say about the matter: "If then, 
 in Goethe's drama, Faust ultimately develops into the type of the 
 unsatisfied yearning of the human intellect for 'more than earth- 
 ly meat and drink', this was because the great German humanist de- 
 liberately infused into the old story a spirit absolutely opposite 
 to that by which it had originally been inspired." According to 
 Phillips, there are two principles underlying the Faust legend: 
 namely, "the idea of a compact with the devil for the purpose of 
 obtaining human power or knowledge", and "the belief in the essen- 
 tially evil character of purely human learning". The first is of 
 Jewish origin, and came into being about the time of the Christian 
 era; the second "has existed ever since the triumph of Christian- 
 ity set divine revelation above human science". But to get away 
 from origins and to consider conditions as they exist at present, 
 we notice that Faust is essentially deliberate, while Don Juan is 
 essentially emotional. Faust made a pact with the devil through 
 an ulterior motive; Don Juan was blissfully unconscious of the 
 devil, but constantly played into his hands in his headlong pur- 
 suit of pleasure. Faust made sacrifices to obtain abstract power; 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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14 
 
 Don Juan gave no heed to the future -- he merely represents "in- 
 carnate 'joy of living' As Waxman expresses it (p. 184), the 
 theme of the Don Juan legend is libertinism; that of the Faust leg- 
 end is necromancy, wherein libertinism is merely incidental. 
 
 As we shall see when we come to study Zorrilla's play, 
 the Faust legend has had its influence upon Don Juan even in the 
 land of his birth, and hence the older legend cannot be entirely 
 neglected in a study of Don Juan. We shall also see that the Ma- 
 nara legend has affected Don Juan. Perhaps other, less well-de- 
 fined legends have had their effect also. The point to bear in 
 mind is that the legend assumes an individual entity in Tirso's 
 Burlador de Sevilla . Tirso's protagonist was not the first lit- 
 erary character ever to seduce a woman; neither was he the first 
 ever to see a ghost. Many other things in the Burlador had been 
 done in literature before. Nevertheless, the combination of ele- 
 ments is entirely new, and Tirso's originality can no longer, in 
 the light of investigations on the subject, be open to question. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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III. EL BURLADOR DE SEVILLA 
 
 In the three centuries that have elapsed since the writ- 
 ing of El Burlador de Sevilla, y C onvidado de piedra , there has 
 been simple time for its thorough discussion in all its aspects. 
 Some of this discussion has been concerned with the identity of 
 its author. The oldest known copy of it is one printed at Barce- 
 lona in 1630 in a collection of Lope's dramatic works entitled Do- 
 ze comedias nvevas de Lope de Vega Carpio, y otros avtores . It is 
 the seventh play in the volume and bears the title El Bvrlador de 
 Sevilla, y Convidado de piedra. Comedia famosa. Del Maestro Tir- 
 so de Molina . Its inclusion in a volume of Lope's plays, even 
 though it bore Tirso's name on the title page, gave some one an 
 opportunity to deny that Tirso was the real author. The fact that 
 a later edition of Tirso's works did not contain the Bur lador 
 strengthened the position of those who denied that it was Tirso's 
 play. This opinion has been held by some scholars of high rank, 
 notably Farinelli. 24 There have been attempts to show that the 
 style is not wholly that of Tirso, but even if this be the case, 
 it may be explained by the unusually corrupt condition of the text 
 in the Barcelona and other later printings. Cotarelo believes 
 "the language and style are those common in our author an <j[ no 
 Spanish scholar of note doubts that it is the work of Tirso. The 
 question of authorship is, in fact, no longer an open one; schol- 
 ars everywhere, with the exception of Farinelli, have accepted the 
 play as Tirso de Molina's. 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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16 
 
 The date of its composition has not been so satisfacto- 
 rily settled; indeed, it has not been settled at all, though the 
 date of the Barcelona edition is ordinarily given as its date. It 
 i6 not necessary to suppose, however, that it was printed immedi- 
 ately after it was written, and it is the common opinion, says 
 Said Armesto (p. 67), that it was written about 1625. This con- 
 jecture is based upon a trip that Tirso is supposed to have made 
 to Andalusia about that time. Blanca de los Rios has discovered 
 evidence that this trip was made, not in 1625, but in 1616. 
 
 Even if the play depended upon this trip, it might, then, have 
 been written nearly fifteen years before it was printed. Said Ar- 
 mesto points out the absurdity of supposing that Tirso could not 
 have written about Seville without first going there, and states 
 it as his belief (p. 72) that the Burlador is one of his earliest 
 pieces of work, and certainly among those composed by 1621, which 
 numbered, according to Tirso himself, some three hundred. This 
 seems very probable, and is, in a measure, corroborated by a cer- 
 tain argument which Farinelli uses in an attempt to disprove the 
 Spanish origin of the legend. He cites the appearance of an Ital- 
 ian Burlador in. 1620. Said Armesto (pp. 74-80) has shown that 
 Farinelli misread his authority, which referred to a period be- 
 ginning ab out, 1620. The common opinion is that the Italian Don 
 Giovannis were transplanted Spaniards; hence the earliest date 
 that can be established for an Italian version fixes the latest 
 date for Tirso* s Burlador . 
 
 As already shown in the preceding chapter, the original- 
 ity of our play has also been questioned. Aside from the general 
 discussion of the sources of the legend, certain plays have been 
 

 
 
 
 
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1? 
 
 suggested as the immediate sources of this one. One of these is 
 the Pineros son calidad , by Lope de Vega. Fi tzmaurice-Kelly^ 7 ad- 
 mits certain points of resemblance between this play and the Bur- 
 lador , but goes on to say that "these resemblances are superficial, 
 and the character of Don Juan, the incarnation of perverse sensu- 
 ality and arrogant blasphemy, may be considered as the creation of 
 Tirso de Molina". Waxman (p. 190) shows that the Pineros son Ca- 
 li dad did not appear till 1632, while Fi tzmaurice-Kelly takes it 
 for granted that it appeared before 1630. Even though the date of 
 the first appearance of the Pineros in printed form was 1632, it 
 may have been written much before that, and available to a certain 
 degree in manuscript form. But, as we have seen, so may the Bur- 
 lador , and this proves nothing, one way or the other. The matter 
 of priority is really of very slight importance, for there is so 
 little similarity in the two plays that it seems extremely im- 
 probable that Tirso could have obtained his idea from Lope's work. 
 The common ground is an animate statue, but on this basis, Tirso * a 
 idea might have come from any one of a great number of literary 
 works, moving statues being met in literature even as far back as 
 three centuries before the Christian era. 28 
 
 Cervantes' Rufian dichoso is another of the plays more 
 persistently advanced as sources of the Bur lador . The common 
 ground here is a licentious young man whose family connections 
 render him immune from punishment by society. Here the similarity 
 ends, for the protagonist goes to America and becomes a monk. 
 
 There are no seductions related, his carousals being in company 
 with public women. The stone guest idea does not enter into the 
 play at all. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ’ 
 
 . 
 
 
18 
 
 The sixteenth century Infamador of Juan de la Cueva de- 
 picts the fate of a wealthy young man who thinks money can buy any- 
 thing. When it fails to secure for him the enjoyment of a certain 
 woman who has aroused his concupiscence, he attempts to work his 
 will by force, on two occasions, one being so arranged that he may 
 be discovered at such a time as to compromise the woman. The gods, 
 or rather, certain gods and goddesses, take sides with the mortals, 
 Diana, the virgin's protector, finally triumphing over Venus and 
 the despoiler of women's honor. The latter is sentenced to be 
 drowned in the river Betis, which rebels at this affront to it; he 
 is then buried alive. Waxman sees in this play the first literary 
 expression of the same legend that Tirso later incorporated in the 
 first part of the Burlador . He emphatically says that he does not 
 claim that the latter was influenced by the Infamador ; as far as 
 he knows, Tirso may never have known the Infamador at all. never- 
 theless, he is absolutely certain that both are reactions upon a 
 legend that was current in Seville (p. 189). His slight external 
 evidence is unconvincing. On the other hand, it seems to me that 
 the internal evidence bears very strongly against any such suppo- 
 sition. Don Juan is utterly different from Leucino. The former 
 went into his amours for mere love of the adventure; the latter 
 would buy animal gratification. Don Juan accomplished all by his 
 personal magnetism and power of persuasion; Leucino descended to 
 brute force. Don Juan suffered a supernatural punishment; Leuci- 
 no was punished as the angry relatives of an outraged woman might 
 very naturally punish a man for whom an easy death would be too 
 merciful. The goddesses in the Infamador are merely symbolical of 
 right and wrong, of carnal passion and virgin chastity; God's dis- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
 
 
 t 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
19 
 
 approval of sin is not specifically set forth as it is in the Bur- 
 lacior . Under close examination, the superficial similarity be- 
 tween uon Juan and Leucino disappears entirely, and as this is 
 positively the only element of similarity in the two plays. Pro- 
 fessor Waxman ' s position seems to me untenable. He does not, how- 
 ever, it must be said, deny Tirso's originality, which is now gen- 
 erally conceded. 
 
 So profound a scholar as Mengndez y Pelayo has written 29 
 these words: "The Burlador must have been most popular from the 
 moment of its appearance — as popular as Don Juan Tenorio is to- 
 day." I cannot forbear asking why "aebi6 de serlo". It is doubt- 
 ful that a play could be as popular as Zorrilla's without leaving 
 more evidence of it than seems to be the case with regard to the 
 Burlador. Adolfo de Castro says c5 ° that it is scarcely mentioned 
 in the seventeenth century, and the probability is that its popu- 
 larity was by no means extraordinary. If Menendez y Pelayo had 
 qualified his statement by saying "in France and in Italy", it 
 might stand unchallenged, but hardly if applied to Spain. It is 
 true that there are the copy by Claramonte and the imitation by 
 Cordoba, both in this century, but they do not prove that the orig- 
 inal was as popular as Zorrilla's play is now. 
 
 The plot of the Burlad or is quite simple; it is almost, 
 as Farinelli says, a series of disconnected episodes. Neverthe- 
 less, for the purposes of later comparison with other versions of 
 the legend based on Tirso’s, it will be well to have before us a 
 detailed synopsis of the argument. Gendarme de Bevotte has told 
 the story in a highly pleasing manner, and I shall use his synop- 
 sis.'^ it is as follows: 
 

 V 
 
 . 
 
 . . . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
20 
 
 "Italy first, then Seville and its environs, are 
 the scene of the exploits of the gallant nobleman who asks 
 the peasant girl as well as the court lady to administer to, 
 without ever assuaging, his insatiable need of love. Obliged 
 to leave Spain to escape the consequences of a disagreeable 
 escapade, he renews his amorous exploits in Naples, and, when 
 the play begins, he appears from the first scene in his role 
 of unscrupulous seducer. In order to succeed with a girl of 
 high rank. Duchess Isabela, he has taken the name and cloak 
 of Duke Octavio, her fiance; he has thus been able to take 
 advantage of her in the very palace of the King of Naples, 
 and, under cover cf darkness, he is seeking to escape. But 
 his victim has recognized, too late, her mistake; at the 
 cries which she utters, the King comes up and has the guilty 
 one arrested by the Spanish ambassador, Don Pedro Tenor io, 
 the uncle, indeed, of Don Juan. ... Recognized by his uncle, 
 Don Juan obtains the former’s silence and escapes by way of 
 the balcony, while Don Pedro mocks the King with a dramatic 
 story of escape and places the outrage to Duke Octavio’s ac- 
 count. The next day, while the latter, in a style inspired 
 by Gongora, entertains his lackey Ripio with his amours, the 
 ambassador comes to tell him of the events of the preceding 
 night, of the suspicions that hang over him, and to urge him 
 to flee as quickly as ever he can. This is what Don Juan has 
 already done, for, accompanied by his valet Catalindn, he has 
 put the sea between Naples and himself. 
 
 ”A storm casts him up on the coast of Spain oppo- 
 site Tarragona. There a young fisher maiden, Tisbea, in lan- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
21 
 
 guage as graceful as it is affected, is singing the joys of a 
 heart free from the tyrannies of love, when suddenly she sees 
 two castaways stranded on the beach. One of them is uncon- 
 scious; it is Don Juan. His unconsciousness does not resist 
 a woman's voice any longer than Tlsbea's heart does the sight 
 of the handsome cavalier. A conversation full of repartee 
 and witticisms ensues between the gentleman and the pretty 
 fisher maiden. . . . 
 
 "While Don Juan is triumphing over the girl, the 
 scene takes us to Seville where the Comendador Ulloa is re- 
 porting to the King the details of his mission to Lisbon and 
 describing this city at length. ... The King, learning from 
 the Comendador that he has a daughter, Dona Ana, proposes to 
 him that she be married to Don Juan. 
 
 "The latter, already tired of his easy conquest, 
 has departed from Tarragona, leaving Tisbea, in spite of the 
 wise remonstrances of his valet, to pour forth to the waves 
 of the sea her bombastic lamentations over her betrayed love. 
 The seducer then hastily gains Seville, whither the news of 
 his adventure in Italy has preceded him. His father has been 
 informed of it by a letter from Don Pedro. The King, like- 
 wise forewarned, has a mind to repair the evil by the mar- 
 riage of Don Juan with Duchess Isabela. Meanwhile, the 
 guilty one will go away and expiate his misconduct in an ex- 
 ile of some length in Lebrija. As for Doha Ana, she will 
 find compensation in a union with Duke Octavio, who himself 
 arrives just in time to replace the husband she is losing. 
 
 "But Ana already has an intrigue with her cousin. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
22 
 
 the Marques de la Mota. The latter, meeting Don Juan, his 
 former companion in pleasure, allows himself to speak to him 
 of his amours and confides to him that he has a rendezvous 
 with the young lady that very evening. Behold Don Juan im- 
 mediately seized with the desire to repeat the adventure in 
 which he has succeeded so well in Naples. He is thinking 
 over the means of bringing the undertaking to a happy conclu- 
 sion, when he meets his father, who reproaches him severely, 
 and threatens him, if he does not amend his ways, with the 
 wrath of Heaven. This admonition does not hinder him from 
 executing his amorous project. He enters Doha Ana's apart- 
 ment; but he comes out again almost immediately, followed by 
 the young lady, who has discovered the deception. The Comen- 
 dador rushes up at his daughter's cries and tries in vain to 
 arrest the ravisher. Don Juan thrusts him through with his 
 sword and flees, accompanied by the curse of the dying old 
 man. The tumult draws to the palace the elder Tenorio and 
 the King, who, meeting the Marques de la Mota, take him for 
 the guilty one and arrest him. 
 
 "During this time Don Juan betakes himself to Le- 
 brija, where the sight of a rural wedding has speedily caused 
 him to forget this bloody adventure. The rustic charm of 
 Aminta in holiday garb, the thought of the happiness that her 
 husband is soon going to enjoy with her, excite the young 
 gallant's desires. He makes love to the young bride and sows 
 the seeds of discord in her heart. In order to rid himself 
 of the husband, he tries to trouble his honor by claiming 
 previous rights over his wife. As for the father, Don Juan 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
easily wins him over through vanity by asking him for the 
 hand of his daughter. While the latter, uneasy and doubtful, 
 is waiting for her real husband, Don Juan, in spite of the 
 advice of Catalinbn, already has the horses which are to take 
 him away early the next morning made ready. Then he enters 
 the young woman’s room. She, frightened at first, surrenders 
 quickly enough when her perfidious suitor gives his solemn 
 oath to marry her. 
 
 "This deception will be the last. Already his vic- 
 tims are coming from every direction, clamoring for justice. 
 Isabela, just arrived from Naples, brings with her Tisbea, 
 whom she has met on the way, and who has told her the sad 
 story of her seduction. Don Juan himself, drawn on by his 
 destiny, comes to meet half way the punishment which Heaven 
 is reserving for him. He has returned to Seville like the 
 murderer drawn toward the scene of his crime. The premoni- 
 tory signs of his punishment are gathering about him. But he 
 braves the danger, and after having outraged the living, he 
 goes and provokes the dead. His steps lead him toward a chap- 
 el which contains the tomb of the Comenaador Ulloa. He reads 
 the epitaph carved on the pedestal: 
 
 "THE MOST LOYAL KNIGHT HERE AWAITS GOD'S 
 VENGEANCE UPON A TRAITOR. (Ill, 10) 
 
 "This epithet makes him angry. He pulls the stat- 
 ue’s beard, and then ironically invites him to supper, while, 
 sword in hand, promising satisfaction. Once again in his 
 hostelry, he is sitting down at table when some one knocks at 
 the door. A valet who has gone to open the door returns with 
 

 - 
 
 . 
 
 \ 
 
 . 
 
 J.. 
 
 . 
 
 
24 
 
 teeth chattering, unable to say a word. Don Juan has under- 
 stood, and his anger against the lackey betrays the emotion 
 that comes over him without his being willing to admit it. 
 
 He sends Catalin<5n, who also has guessed what mysterious 
 guest seeks to enter. In spite of himself, Catalin6n goes to 
 the door, but comes running back and falls, overcome by 
 fright. A few inarticulate words come from his lips; he can- 
 not tell what he has seen. ... 
 
 "Don Juan takes the light and goes to see. Before 
 him stands the statue of the Comendador . He takes a step 
 backward, draws his sword, and slowly recedes before the stat- 
 ue, which advances. Soon he regains possession of himself 
 and invites the Comendador to be seated. He calls for music 
 and singing, forcing himself to appear care-free and merry, 
 until the moment when the statue, at first silent, makes a 
 sign that it desires to be alone with its host. Then Don 
 Juan no longer hides his perturbation. He addresses the dead 
 man with some troubled questions in which uneasiness over the 
 future life is betrayed. Without answering, the statue in- 
 vites him to come and have supper the following day in its 
 chapel. Don Juan pledges the word of a Tenorio, controlling 
 himself to such a degree that the Comendador looks at him; 
 but the statue leaves, and then his terror bursts out in 
 spite of him. His body is bathed in perspiration. He al- 
 ready feels something like the burning of hell. Nevertheless, 
 his pride makes him ashamed of his weakness. He will answer 
 the invitation. 
 
 "Meanwhile, the truth about Don Juan's activities 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
25 
 
 1 
 
 begins to be known. Octavio has learned that he is the rav- 
 isher of Isabela, and comes to ask the King for permission to 
 challenge him. The elder Tenorio, who is still ignorant of 
 most of the crimes of his son, takes up the challenge. Then 
 ensues a quarrel, which the King settles. But events favor 
 Octavio; here is Aminta, who comes with her father to demand 
 the performance of the wedding ceremony, and Octavio, to whom 
 she addresses herself, plans to profit by this proceeding, 
 while the King hastens the union of Isabela with Don Juan. 
 
 "The latter's fortune seems to rally for a moment; 
 he himself regains confidence. The King has given him a good 
 reception, and that very night his wedding is to be consum- 
 mated. But first it is necessary that he comply with the Co- 
 mendador's invitation. Indeed, he is in the chapel at the 
 appointed time. The statue is waiting for him and has him 
 sit down at a black table, where scorpions and vipers are 
 served. At first Don Juan maintains a good countenance be- 
 fore this "appareil macabre"; but some voices, which come to 
 his ears and sing of the punishment of the wicked, begin to 
 trouble him: the hour of divine vengeance has come. The stat- 
 ue gets up; it takes the hand of Don Juan, whom it burns with 
 a hellish fire. The hero utters a final threatening cry and 
 seizes his sword; but his pride, broken at last, becomes hum- 
 ble. The fear of hell enters his heart. He wishes to die in 
 a state of grace and asks for a priest. There is no longer 
 time. The statue drags him down; men and Heaven are satis- 
 fied. Meantime, the clamor of the victims is still resound- 
 ing; all together they are besieging the King’s palace, de- 
 
4 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
26 
 
 manding justice, when Catalinbn arrives and recounts the su- 
 pernatural end of his master. This death permits the mar- 
 riage of Duke Octavio with Isabela, and that of the Marques 
 de la Mota with Doha Ana. As for the peasant Patricio, he 
 again comes into possession of Aminta." 
 
 In the words of Picatoste (p. 106), "Such is the immor- 
 tal legend, which repetition has given to the world, and which has 
 everywhere been the object of applause and of the study of poets, 
 of writers, and of philosophers. Such is the admirable creation 
 of Tirso de Molina". 
 
 Let us examine more closely the characteristics of the 
 protagonist. Pi y Margall gives, in his Observaciones (pp. xiii- 
 xxvi ) , a keen analysis of the character, which I summarize here. 
 
 Don Juan is a genteel and fascinating youth who seeks his pleas- 
 ure in winning the hearts of women. He is jealous of his honor, 
 and exceedingly brave. He is not a man of passion: he neither 
 loves nor hates; he kills only to attain his ends, and then only 
 on the spur of the moment. His sword and his personal charms are 
 his only two weapons, for two distinct purposes; he has no faith- 
 ful guard for the one, nor gems nor jewels for the other. He is 
 not a brawler: he uses his sword only in self-defense. He is in- 
 corrigible: advice and warnings receive scant attention from him. 
 
 He lies and deceives, but only for one purpose; it is not to at- 
 tenuate his faults. He is not an "impio": he believes in God, in 
 the immortality of the soul, in heaven and in hell, in the effi- 
 cacy of confession, and in the power of the Church, through prayer, 
 to save souls that have died in sin. "Honor and pleasure: such 
 are the axes on which revolves the character of the original Don 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . . 
 
 . ■' 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 ■ 
 
 ■■ 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ' 
 
 . 
 
 
27 
 
 Juan Tenor io” (p. xxi). 
 
 It is evident that Don Juan has a certain undeniable 
 "caballerosidad" . He is not the "rufian" whom Cervantes shows us, 
 nor the insolently domineering profligate of Cueva's picture. He 
 is of a noble family, and his adventures take him into the palaces 
 of kings as well as into the huts of fishermen and peasants. He 
 is, as depicted by Tirso, a faithful representation of one of the 
 many young men of his time, who were easily led into lives of li- 
 centiousness and excess by the customs of the epoch, by the con- 
 tinual state of war, which always produces every kind of excess, 
 and by the ideas and education of the nobility, who disregarded 
 the honor of the lower classes and considered seductions of women 
 of the upper classes as triumphs. Picatoste thinks it was not 
 by chance that Tirso made his protagonist thus. Being a priest, 
 his purpose was to discourage licentiousness. There was more of 
 it among the nobility of the time than among the common people; 
 hence his character. The author’s purpose, likewise, was to show 
 that divine justice has no favorites — that the young man of no- 
 ble family, endowed with all the characteristics that cause ad- 
 miration and sympathy in the "crowd", such as a charming manner 
 and an admirable fearlessness, must pay the price of his indul- 
 gence as surely as the "rufian", for whose vices excuses are not 
 so readily advanced. 
 
 Certainly the character is not a moral one, though it is 
 a true one in every respect, as Pi y Margall has pointed out (p. 
 xxvii); the work as a whole, on the other hand, is moral and 
 Christian. It has undergone changes in its reproduction through 
 the centuries, as we shall see in considering the later dramas, 
 

 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 >• 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
28 
 
 but in Spain, at least, the moral idea seems to have remained dom 
 inant, and I believe accounts for its continued and increasing 
 popularity . 
 

 
 
IV. L TAN LARGO ME LO FIAIS? 
 
 About 1878 the distinguished Spanish bibliophile and 
 writer, Feliciano Ramirez de Avellano, the Marques de Fuensanta 
 del Valle, discovered a play entitled £Tan largo me lo fiais? Co- 
 media famosa. De Don Pedro Calderbn . 1 * It showed neither place nor 
 date of printing, but had been printed in the first half of the 
 seventeenth century, in the opinion of the discoverer. 33 Basing 
 his opinion upon the kind of paper, the style of type, the manner 
 of publication, and the fact that it was ascribed to Calderbn, Co- 
 tarelo y Mori asserts that it was most likely printed as late as 
 1660. Although the title page bears the name of Calder6n as the 
 author, none of the critics seems to have been willing to accept 
 this statement as fact. Cotarelo's opinion that the play is noth- 
 ing more than a plagiarism of the Burlador has been accepted as an 
 obvious fact, 3 ^ and friends of Calder6n, as well as less partisan 
 
 *This is the statement made by Cotarelo in 1893 ( Tirso 
 de Molina , p. 118, note). In 1907, when he published the second 
 volume of Comedias de Tirso de Molina , he wrote (p. vii), "Hallo 
 D. Jose Sancho Ray6n esta comedia en una edicidn suelta por los 
 afios de 1878 y apresur6 a darla a conocer al publico en el tomo 
 XII de su Coleccidn de llbros espanoles raros y curiosos ". Sancho 
 Ray<5n and the Marques de Fuensanta del Valle were evidently asso- 
 ciated in the publishing of the Coleccidn , and this perhaps ac- 
 counts for the confusion of names. Waxman (p. 191) names a dif- 
 ferent man, the critic Manuel de la Revilla, and says definitely 
 that the "comedia” was discovered in 1878 and published in Madrid 
 in 1657. He does not give his authority, and I have been unable 
 to find the source of his statement. Some of Revilla's opinions 
 seem to be based upon the Marques' statement that the "comedia" 
 was probably printed in the first half of the seventeenth century, 
 and therefore it seems very likely that it did not come to light 
 through Revilla. 
 
 — 29 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
30 
 
 critics, have been active in trying to prove that it could not be 
 his work. It will scarcely be denied by the impartial critic that 
 Calderdn did, on occasion, borrow scenes from other authors, but 
 the critics whose opinions I have found have been unwilling to be- 
 lieve him guilty of the perpetration of a "wholesale steal" such 
 as this evidently is.^ Revilla believed that the Tan lax g o was 
 Tireo’s own work and the Burlador a later "redaccidn" of it. He 
 considered as proof of this hypothesis the fact that in the latter 
 the word "burlador" almost entirely replaces the "poco decente ga- 
 randn", which occurs frequently in the Tan largo , and the fact 
 that a description of Lisbon had replaced a description of Seville. 
 Cotar elo’s counter proposal that "garanbn" was substituted for 
 "burlador" to make the plagiarism less obvious is the more plaus- 
 ible, it seems to me, in connection with other points to which he 
 calls attention. It is his opinion that the long description of 
 Seville in the Tan largo is not in Tirso's style, but that the eu- 
 logy of Lisbon in the Burlador is in his style and furthermore is 
 in keeping with his already known habit of celebrating Portuguese 
 cities, especially the capital. Also, he continues, in 1630, the 
 date of the first printed edition of the Burlador , none of Calde- 
 rdn's plays had been published, and he could not have had a repu- 
 tation sufficiently great to have had some one else's play attrib- 
 uted to him. If the play in question had been of about this time 
 it would probably have been assigned to Lope. It must have been 
 considerably later that it was printed, and Cotarelo doubts that 
 it could have been less than twenty years later. 3 ® 
 
 If neither Tirso nor Calderdn wrote the Tan larg o . who 
 did? Probably some one whose name resembled, to some extent. Cal- 
 

 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 .« . ! 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
31 
 
 der6n's; probably some one who was a "sevillano o hispalofilo (pa- 
 se la palabra)"; probably some one who is known to have plagiarized 
 other works: Andres de Claramonte, "vecino de Sevilla", whose name 
 was so linked with literary pilfering that Alarcbn's friends 
 thought the greatest insult they could hurl at him was to call him 
 a "second Claramonte" , in punishment for having made use of the 
 work of others' pens. 
 
 Cotarelo writes, 3 ^ "It cannot be considered as an imi- 
 tation or a "r efundicion" , but as El Bur l ador itself, with some 
 verses changed". Elsewhere he says 40 that theme, characters, and 
 development of the action are the same, and even nine- tenths of 
 the verses in the Burlador are copied in the Tan largo . Some of 
 the scenes are run together in the Tan larg o so that there are 
 fewer scenes in it than in the Burlador . Waxman says (p. 191) 
 that there are also fewer characters named, some of the minor ones 
 being designated as "pastores", "villanos", "criados", and so on, 
 instead of being given names. His opinion can only have been 
 formed from consulting the list of characters preceding the play 
 as printed in the 1878 edition, where only sixteen are named. Ex- 
 amination of the play itself, however, shows twenty-one names. 
 Therefore, it has exactly the same number of named characters as 
 appear in the Burlador , but some of the names are slightly differ- 
 ent, as for instance, Don Juan's father is also named Juan instead 
 of Diego; the fisher maiden is called Trisbea instead of Tisbea; 
 and Aminta of the Burlador becomes Arminta, while the Duke is Oc- 
 tavio and Otavio respectively. Among the shepherds, the Bur lador 
 names Felisa, Anfriso, and Corid6n, only Anfriso being found in 
 the Tan largo . Taking the places of the other two, however, are 
 
 a- — - J 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 » 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
32 
 
 three names not found in the Burl a dor , namely, Salucio, Alfredo, 
 and Tirseo. There is an additional named "criada", Dona Ana, in 
 the Tan largo , but Isabela's and Octavio's servants, Fabio and Ri- 
 
 pio in the Burlador , are left unnamed in the former. The names of 
 characters are otherwise the same. 
 
 In the plot, nothing has been changed, but the telling 
 of it has been shortened in the T an lar go in two places, both near 
 the end. The three scenes in the Burlador (16, 17, and 18 of Act 
 III) between Don Juan's conversation with the statue of Don Gon- 
 zalo, at the time of his acceptance of the return invitation, and 
 his next conversation with Catalindn, are shortened to something 
 like fifty verses in the Tan larg o (p. 104), and scenes 21 to 26 
 inclusive, that is, the rest of the play, are shortened to about 
 eighty or ninety verses (p. 111). As I have said, this causes ab- 
 solutely no change in the events or in their sequence. The other 
 chief difference between the two plays has been mentioned above. 
 The Burlador contains in the first act (vv. 722 ss.) a long speech 
 of 136 verses by Don Gonzalo laudatory of Lisbon. This does not 
 occur in the Tan largo , but in its stead, the second act contains 
 a description of Seville (pp. 42-50), 261 verses long, very appro- 
 priately delivered by Don Juan, "sevillano" . This difference, 
 likewise, has nothing to de with events of the play or their se- 
 quence. It might be mentioned here that the divisions are called 
 "act os" in the Burlador and "jornadas" in the Tan larg o. 
 
 There is very little more reason, it seems to me, for 
 calling this play <L Tan largo me lo fiais ? than Tirso's. Cotare- 
 lo 4 ^- calls the "mania" for writing the phrase a justification of 
 the title, and criticises the use of this single form which, he 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
33 
 
 says, is many times not appropriate. As a matter of fact, the 
 phrase occurs in question form five times (pp. 9, 32, 33, 34, and 
 61), without the question marks three times (pp. 83, 86, and 97), 
 and in one of these latter cases it is preceded by "Si" (p. 86). 
 Twice it appears (in a song by the "musicos") a6 "Ique largo me lo 
 fiais!" (p. 100). Cotarelo says that the Bur lador varies the 
 phrase according to the context in which it appears. Let us see 
 how much more variation it has here than in the Tan lar go. The 
 question form, it is true, appears only once (II, 404) in the for- 
 mer, and the form not used as a question appears twice (III, 182; 
 III, 473), once being preceded by "Si" (III, 182) as in the Tan 
 lar go . But the exclamatory form, "Ique largo me lo fiais!", is 
 found in the Bur lador six times (I, 906, 946, 962; III, 585, 601, 
 940), more often, in fact, than any single form is found in the 
 Tan lar go . Tirso uses these three expressions nine times, the Tan 
 largo but once more. Cotarelo's opinion that they do not always 
 seem to be appropriate is probably true, but as true of the Bur la- 
 bor as of the Tan larg o. In extenuation of the former, however, 
 it ought to be said that such versions of it as exist are evident- 
 ly very imperfect. 
 
 Nothing more needs to be said of the Tan larg o. The dif- 
 ferences in form have been noted, and there are no differences in 
 the characters in the two plays. Although printed early, the Tan 
 lar go seems to have been practically unknown, and a copy found in 
 the last quarter of the nineteenth century was regarded almost as 
 a new discovery. Hence it probably had little effect on the 
 spread of the Don Juan legend, and even now its only value lies in 
 the use that may be made of it in making textual corrections of 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
V. LA VENGANZ A ENEL SEPULCRO 
 
 According to Franquesa y Gomis, 42 L§^Jeng^a_jn_e2_se- 
 pulcro is, in the light of the best information available, of the 
 seventeenth century, and not earlier than the second half of it. 
 
 He calls attention to the fact that the author says "antiguamente" 
 in alluding to El Burlad or, which was published in 1630. In Fran- 
 quesa 1 s opinion, however, the strongest argument for assigning the 
 play to the latter part of the century is the language and the 
 style, both of which point to a period of decadence in literary 
 work. 
 
 The play was not printed until 1907, when Cotarelo in- 
 cluded it in the appendix to his second volume of Tirso's plays. 43 
 The manuscript, which is now in the National Library at Madrid, 
 gives the author's name as D. Alonso de C6rdoba y Maldonado, about 
 whom practically nothing is known. Whether or not the play had 
 any degree of popularity is equally unknown, and it is likely that 
 it is one of few things that the author wrote. It is certain that 
 he attained no celebrity, for if he had, he would not be so entire- 
 ly unknown. His treatment of the theme before us leads Franquesa 
 to the conclusion that he had little literary ability, and from a 
 synopsis of the play we may easily see that he has added nothing 
 new to the Don Juan legend. La Venganza is obviously based on 
 Tirso's Burlador . but its merit, even when compared with the weak 
 production of Zamora, is negligible, and it deserves to be studied 
 only because it preceded Zamora's attempt, and is a link in the 
 
36 
 
 chain of Don Juan versions. 
 
 The ’’Cornelia" is in three acts, called "jornadas", of 
 somewhat irregular length, the first being considerably longer 
 than either of the other two. The characters are: Don Juan Teno- 
 rio, Colch6n ( "gracioso" ) , the Marques de la Mota, D. Gonzalo de 
 Ulloa, the Asistente, an Alcaide, an Alguacil, Dona Ana, In4s (a 
 servant), two other servants, "acompanamiento" , and musicians. 
 Franquesa observes that the number of characters is indeed inade- 
 quate to reconstruct Tirso's play. It will be noticed that there 
 is only one woman in the action, and that therefore Don Juan’s am- 
 orous undertakings are necessarily much curtailed. The story of 
 the play is as follows, for the most part closely translated from 
 Franquesa: 
 
 "DoHa Ana de Ulloa, daughter of Don Gonzalo, des- 
 tined to be the wife of the Marques de la Mota within a very 
 few days, as she is taking a walk with her maid in the out- 
 skirts of Seville, suddenly finds herself pursued by Don Juan 
 Tenorio, who, after a long absence, has just arrived in his 
 native city to take possession of the inheritance from his 
 
 I 
 
 father. The lady, frightened by the gallant's sudden appear- 
 ance, tries to entertain him by asking for a detailed account 
 of his life, and there comes, indeed, a very long narration 
 £291 versesj of such stupendous deeds as these: the flight 
 from the paternal home at the age of fifteen; his sweet noth- 
 ings to the young village maiden near Toledo who had just 
 been married, which provoked an attack of fifty villagers 
 jealous of the honor of the groom, all of whom he disperses 
 with his sword; his quarrel with a nobleman, whose death a 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 V :• 
 
 ’ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
37 
 
 mob, likewise put to route by him ‘a estocada limpia', wishes 
 to avenge; his escape to the mountains, where he falls in 
 love with the mountain girl, Celia, who prefers a prince, and 
 is, therefore, the cause of a new murder; his flight to Eng- 
 land and Flanders, where he destroys four hundred enemies who 
 come in two Dutch ships, etc., etc., etc. Before such a hec- 
 atomb, although fad* away, and before the brutal threats which 
 Don Juan from nearer by is already making against her, if she 
 does not grant him her hand, Doha Ana tries to escape from 
 the importunate suitor by feigning consent. On the following 
 day Don Juan lacks time to present himself at the house of 
 Don Gonzalo de Ulloa, whom he meets leaving with the Marques 
 de la Mota, the future husband of Doha Ana. Don Juan soon 
 recognizes the powerful motives which the Marques has for 
 frequenting the house, and upon observing that Doha Ana runs 
 away at sight of him, and that she deceived him with false 
 hopes as she slipped away from his presence, he swears that, 
 in marriage or otherwise, he must have her that very night. 
 When night comes, he lurks in the street to wait for the mo- 
 ment to enter the house in search of his lady, and when Don 
 Gonzalo appears, he proceeds to follow him. The father, an- 
 noyed, intercepts his passage; they cross swords, and the old 
 man falls, pierced by the libertine’s sword. At the victim’s 
 cries, up rushes the Marques, who, already jealous, had also 
 taken a position in the same street; Likewise the "Asisten- 
 te", accompanied by several peace officers, arrives in order 
 to get information about what is happening. As Don Juan by 
 this time believes it would be imprudent to repeat, against 
 

 
 
 a 
 
 m 
 
 ■ 
 
38 
 
 so many, the spectacle of his heroic thrusts, and thinks it 
 better to escape with his servant, the "Asistente” considers 
 it quite certain that the assassination of the Comendador 
 Ulloa cannot be attributed to any other than the future son- 
 in-law, who is found there alone with his sword unsheathed; 
 therefore, he declares the Marques de la Mota a prisoner, in 
 spite of all his protests.” Thus ends the first act. 
 
 "The second begins with a new interview between Don 
 Juan and Doha Ana. The latter, who entertains certain sus- 
 picions that the Marques is not her father's murderer, now 
 resents with greater energy the wooings of the lover, who on 
 his part begins to feel a real passion for her, a thing which 
 he had never known till then. ... The disconsolate lady, who 
 for the present has only ideas of vengeance, feigns to ask 
 the enamoured gallant again for one day's time before giving 
 him her hand." 
 
 Then the Marques appears in prison, lamenting his 
 misfortunes. Since Dona Ana's greatest desire is to find out 
 whether he is really guilty or not, together with her maid, 
 both being in disguise, she enters his cell and easily dis- 
 covers to her satisfaction that he is innocent. At this 
 juncture Don Juan appears ana insolently tries to tear off 
 the disguises the women are wearing. "The jailer runs up at 
 their cries, and then, to save his lady, a very ingenious 
 idea occurs to the Marques, tie tells Don Juan that the women 
 are no more nor less than the wife and maid of the jailer, 
 and that he should entertain the latter while they disappear, 
 if he would preserve their honor; Don Juan accedes to this. 
 
39 
 
 though not without ordering Colchdn to follow and keep an eye 
 on them. Soon the servant returns, announcing that they have 
 taken refuge in the church, and then they (master and servant) 
 enter also; as they stop to examine the chapels, ' a c urt ain 
 is drawn, disclosin g : a well-made and deco rated senulchre^_ln 
 which ma y he seen D. Gonzalo de Ulloa. as in_olden_tjLmeR_the 
 
 stone guest was seen . There is also an inscription ' . * Then 
 
 comes the already known scene of the invitation, and follow- 
 ing thereon, that describing the famous supper, with which 
 the second act closes." 
 
 In the third act, the story continues as follows: 
 "After a severe reprimand which the "Asistente" administers 
 to Don Juan for having disturbed the city by his scandalous 
 procedure, although without saying what this may be, the lat- 
 ter goes and demands of Doila Ana the fulfillment of her prom- 
 ise. She is ready to keep it, but upon one condition, name- 
 ly, that before she becomes his wife he is to avenge her upon 
 her offender." He promises, and she tells him that it is he 
 himself who has offended her by the murder of her father. 
 
 What follows causes her to cry out, and the "Asistente" ar- 
 rives " con t o do el a c ompana mie nto que se pueda ; but this time 
 Don Juan gets out of the difficulty, clearing the stage, by 
 means of his saber cuts, of all that extraordinary multitude. 
 
 . . . Little remains now: new lamentations on the part of the 
 
 *The original of this quotation is a stage direction in 
 the manuscript (II, 10) and is as follows: Correse una cortina; 
 descubrese un sepulcro bien foraado y adornado, y en el, D. Gon- 
 zalo de Ulloa, como se vi6 el convidado de piedra antiguamente, y 
 hay un letrero. 
 
40 
 
 Marques in his unjust imprisonment, softened only by a letter 
 which the maid, In6s, brings from his loved one; the supper 
 in the tomb and the consequent death of the hero amidst the 
 roll of thunder and flashes of lightning (with some slight 
 traces of poetry born of the matter itself); and the libera- 
 tion of the Marques by decree of the "Asistente" , who ... wit- 
 nessed the scene of the tomb and knew the truth about the 
 crime . " 
 
 In this synopsis we can see several differences from the 
 play of Tirso. These are mostly in the character of the protago- 
 nist. As has been observed above, Don Juan's love-making has been 
 centered upon one woman. Moreover, we notice that the love-mak- 
 ing is different from that of the earlier Don Juan. To the Don 
 Juan of the Burlador , all women looked alike except the one whose 
 charms were attracting his attention for the moment, and she in- 
 variably went the way of all before her — the way of being for- 
 gotten by her erstwhile importunate suitor. Tirso' s hero had no 
 heart, nothing but sensual appetite. It has been generally as- 
 sumed that all Don Juans were thus until Zorrilla had his protago- 
 nist experience real affection for Doha Ines. It seems to be tak- 
 en for granted that this Don Juan's vov/s of love to Doha In6s, and 
 his tears at her grave are proof of deep-seated fondness for her; 
 his cowardly action during and after the kidnapping, however, 
 would seem to counteract this somewhat. Even if we admit that he 
 really loved Doha Ines (and I am willing to do so), I find that he 
 was not the first one of the Don Juan family to experience real 
 love. Cordoba's Don Juan, something like two centuries earlier, 
 fell in love with Doha Ana. In this case, we do not have to take 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 . I 
 
41 
 
 as evidence Don Juan's avowals to Doha Ana, nor statements made 
 under the stress of emotions accompanying a visit to her tomb. 
 Cdrdoba's Bon Juan makes the admission to his lackey (I, 2), with 
 whom he has everywhere been perfectly frank, as have all the ear- 
 lier Don Juans with their lackeys. This seems to me much stronger 
 evidence than can be cited with reference to Zorrilla'e protago- 
 nist . 
 
 The time taken up in the Burlador by Don Juan's early 
 amorous exploits is here given over to a recital by the hero him- 
 self of his deeds of valor performed all over Spain and in foreign 
 lands. We notice that these are by no means confined to the gentle 
 art of seducing women, as was true of the acts of the original Don 
 Juan, but for the most part consist in performing physical feats 
 that would have tried a Hercules. C6rdoba apparently did not 
 catch the spirit of El B urla dor de Sevill a in any sense. Of his 
 opportunity to do at least as well as the model before him, Fran- 
 quesa makes this criticism: "Not even the presence of the Comenda- 
 dor, nor the rash resolution of the protagonist to go and return 
 his visit at his tomb, suggests to Cordoba anything else than non- 
 sense of the "gracioso" and ridiculous boasts of Don Juan, who 
 does not cease in the whole drama to exaggerate his valor and to 
 consider himself as very superior to the Cid, the worst of the 
 matter being that such bravado, uttered in a style so dispirited 
 and so lacking in vigor, does not succeed in ever producing a sin- 
 gle phrase which may impress the soul." Elsewhere (p. 267) he 
 says that as for the portrayal of Don Juan, the character itself* 
 proves that Tirso's wonderful sketch did not serve as a precedent 
 in any way, and that "the figure of the 'Burlador' had, then, al- 
 

 > 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 . • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
ready become insipid in its native Spain in the very century in 
 which it had appeared”. 
 
 42 
 
 Of the play as such, Franquesa says, "As exposition the 
 first act would not go badly if the author had known how to put 
 more animation into the scenes and greater liveliness into the 
 dialogue. This same lack of warmth, which is the greatest defect 
 in the drama, can be noted in the following acts", but taken all 
 in all, the second act is the best planned and best constructed 
 part of the work. "The last act is the poorest in incidents and 
 the least interesting of all." 
 

 . 
 
 
 
I 
 
 VI. NO HAY PLAZO QUE NO SE CUMPLA 
 
 Interest in the Don Juan legend did not die out, nor 
 even reach a very low ebb, in the eighteenth century, though one 
 would be disappointed upon looking for strong evidence of a sus- 
 tained interest in it in Spain, the birthplace of the legend. The 
 only literary work of importance that was produced in Spain during 
 the century is that of Antonio de Zamora, which bears the title No 
 hay pl azo que no se cumpla ni deu d a que no se pa gue, y Convidado 
 de piedra ,* and which, in the word6 of Mesonero Romanos 44 "popu- 
 larizd en nuestra escena este atrevido argumento iniciado en ella 
 por Tirso de Molina”. Waxman sees in this unwieldy title an il- 
 lustration of the prolixity of the whole play (p. 194). It was 
 published in 1744, after Zamora's death, in the second volume of a 
 collection of his plays entitled Comedlas de Don Anton i o de Zamo - 
 ra . The date of its composition is entirely uncertain, and opin- 
 ions on this point differ as much as twenty-five years. Waxman 
 thinks it was written about 1700, that is, about the beginning of 
 his literary work, though I do not know why Waxman thinks it was 
 one of his early pieces. At any rate, the date has not been de- 
 
 *This is the title by which the play is commonly known, 
 but Cotarelo y Mori says it is not the title which Zamora gave to 
 his work. In the 1744 edition of his plays, published posthumous- 
 ly (Vol. II, p. 267), the title reads No ha y deuda que no se pa gue, 
 y Con vidado de piedra . In speaking of the change in the title 
 made by Mesonero Romanos in his Dram^ticos posteriores a Lope de 
 Vega , Vol. XLIX of the Biblioteca de Autores Espanole s, Cotarelo 
 adds, "asi como tambien altero algo el texto" ( Catal o go razona do 
 del teatro de T i rso de Molina , p. ix). 
 
 43 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 I' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
termined with certainty, and there are no means of settling it 
 here. 
 
 The No hay pla zo is frankly a recasting of the Burlador 
 of Tirso de Molina. Moratfn, one of the few who express a favor- 
 able opinion of the piece, tells us 45 that "Zamora tried to work 
 over the Burlador de Sevil la, and keeping the essential part of 
 the action, he took out of it the useless incidents; he gave tc 
 the principal character greater expression and all the decency 
 that the subject would allow; by making him more agreeable and 
 adding 'las prendas de locuci6n y armonfa' he preserved for the 
 theatre a 'comedia que siempre repugnar£ la crftica'". Ticknor 46 
 describes it as "an alteration of Tirso de Molina's Don Juan , 
 skillfully made; — a remarkable drama, in which the tread of the 
 marble statue is heard with more solemn effect than it is in any 
 other of the many plays on the same subject". 
 
 The favorable criticism is, however, very greatly out- 
 weighed by that which varies from mildly unfavorable to uncompro- 
 misingly hostile. The Spanish literary historian Julio Cejador y 
 Frauca, in his Historia de la lengua y literatura castellana 4 ? 
 says, "Fu£ harto infeliz su refundici6n de El Burlador de S e villa 
 de Tirso, en El Convidado de piedra , que le reemplazo en las ta- 
 blas". F'arinelli, the Italian scholar, declares 48 that it gives 
 unmistakable evidence of the decline of the Spanish drama begun 
 after Calderon, and has nothing in it to save it from being com- 
 monplace and trivial. Picatoste (p. 134) "judges the work very 
 unfavorably, believing that the Burlador de Sevilla lost all of 
 
 its merit in the hands of Calder6n's imitator in the eighteenth 
 century". Professor Waxman says (p. 194) that it is "absolutely 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 % 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
r 
 
 45 
 
 devoid of any dramatic ability, despite the praises of Moratfn, 
 Ticknor, and other critics”. He goes on to say that where it is 
 not a servile imitation of Tirso, it brings in a series of compli- 
 cated episodes so awkwardly handled as to make it impossible at 
 times to follow the course of events. 
 
 Whatever its literary merit, it must be given credit 
 for preserving the tradition till such time as a better play 
 should take up the burden; and Waxman agrees to this. Cejador 
 tells us above that it superseded the Bur lador on the stage, 
 though he does not say whether or not it did so immediately. Alon- 
 so Cortes cites Mila y Fontanals as authority for the statement 
 
 that it was played every year in November up to the time when Zo- 
 
 4-9 
 
 rrilla's Hon Juan Tenor io superseded it. Between the date of 
 the No hay plazo and the T enorio there is a period of not much 
 less than a century and a quarter, perhaps even a little more, dur- 
 ing which Zamora's play may have represented the Don Juan tradi- 
 tion on the stage. 
 
 Why did the No hay plazo attain greater popular favor 
 than the Bur lador ? Let us examine the play with some attention to 
 detail and see if the reason can be determined thus. When the 
 play opens, Don Juan is in Spain boasting to his servant, the "gra- 
 cioso”, who is called Camacho, that by means of a disguise he has 
 deceived a woman in Naples so that his uncle, the Spanish ambassa- 
 dor to Naples, would the sooner send him back to Spain, where he 
 wanted to be. He has also seduced another Italian woman. Dona Be- 
 atriz Fresneda, with a promise of marriage, which he broke. He is 
 now courting Dona Ana de Ulloa, whom his father urges him to marry. 
 He has refused to do so, telling Camacho that he is courting her 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
46 
 
 for other reasons. Later, when at her home, he quarrels with her 
 father, who is killed in the encounter. In the second act, when 
 fleeing from Don Luis, the brother of Dona Beatriz, he takes ref- 
 uge in the chapel where Don Gonzalo, Doha Ana’s father, is buried. 
 He addresses the statue, and to prove his friendship, he asks it 
 to have supper with him. The invitation is accepted and complied 
 with, whereupon a return invitation is given, the meal to be 
 served at a certain convent. The first supper is interrupted by 
 people coming into the garden where Don Juan has had it served. 
 Suddenly the brother of Doha Beatriz shoots at him, the lights are 
 extinguished, and the act ends amidst great confusion. It should 
 be explained here that Doha Beatriz, although jilted by Don Juan, 
 has not lost her interest in him, nor her hope of securing his com- 
 pliance with his promise to marry her, and manages to see him sev- 
 eral times in the first act. Her brother roughly takes her to task 
 for her treason to the family, and is interrupted by Don Juan, who 
 comes to the lady’s rescue. This explains Don Luis' animosity to- 
 ward Don Juan, leading up to the attempt to kill him in the sec- 
 ond act. This animosity may also have some bearing upon his fight 
 with Don Juan in the beginning of the third act, though ostensibly 
 he undertakes the duel to avenge Dona Ana, and at her request. 
 
 Don Juan is victorious. Later he repairs to the convent where he 
 is to dine with the Comendador. He finds the door locked, and 
 just when he is about to accuse his host of not keeping the rendez- 
 vous, the door opens — without visible agent. A tomb appears; in 
 it may be seen Don Gonzalo. He comes out, and at his order a 
 table rises through the floor. The service is entirely in black, 
 and the servants are also dressed in black. Snakes form part of 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 , 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Jfc 
 
 
 
 
47 
 
 the food, which is mostly symbolical; the wine cups issue fire, 
 and other fantastic things happen. When Don Juan complains that 
 there is no music, singing is immediately heard. At his request, 
 the table sinks through the floor, and he prepares to take leave 
 of his host. Upon touching the latter’s stony hand, he experiences 
 a sensation of burning, and cries out, but cannot escape the fatal 
 embrace that immediately follows. He prays Heaven for forgiveness 
 and falls dead, whereupon Don Gonzalo reenters his tomb. As the 
 play ends, the King is just in the act of refusing to pardon Don 
 Juan for his misdemeanors, when Camacho comes up and tells of his 
 master’s peculiar fate. 
 
 It will be readily seen that Zamora has omitted some of 
 the episodes that were in Tirso's play. In the first place, this 
 Don Juan courts but one woman throughout the play; that removes 
 three of Tirso’s episodes in the first two acts. Next, and in 
 consequence of this, Don Juan encounters the statue in the second 
 act, much earlier than in Tirso’s play. There is no suspicion and 
 imprisonment of any one else when the Comendador is killed, as in 
 the case of the Marques de la Mota in Tirso’s plot. My brief out- 
 line of the main thread of the plot leaves many minor happenings 
 and several characters unmentioned. Some of the minor episodes 
 that Zamora has added to Tirso’s rather simple plot "to give ro- 
 mantic color to the drama "^0 are serenades, songs by a "graciosa", 
 music by students, quarrels between these and major characters, 
 night walks taken by Doha Ana with her faithful maid, pistol shots, 
 the extinguishing of the lights, and Dona Ana's pact with the cut- 
 throat Don Luis to free her from the designs of the seducer. 
 
 There is just a suggestion here in Don Luis of the recognized ri- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
48 
 
 val, Mejia or Sandoval, in Zorrilla's or Dumas' versions. The en- 
 counters between Don Juan and Fi liber to, Doha Beatriz's lover, are 
 wordy and numerous, and rather inane skirmishes entirely different 
 from anything in the Burlador . They finally lead up to prepara- 
 tions for a formal, pompous duel, which is prevented on the field 
 by the King himself. Another departure from the model is the mat- 
 ter of having a three months' jail sentence a part of Don Juan's 
 past. At the time of the play, he is out on a sort of parole, un- 
 der the guardianship of his father. 
 
 The speaking characters that are named number fifteen. 
 Naturally there is not the same parallelism of characters with 
 those in the Burlador that we observed in the case of the Tan lar- 
 go . The protagonist and his father bear the same names Tirso gave 
 them, as also do the Comandador and his daughter. The King of 
 Castile remains Alfonso XI, and there is a Fabio, although not in 
 the service of the same master. Neither is he the same sort of 
 character as Octavio's servant of the same name in the Burlador . 
 
 The identity of names stops here, but a certain similarity of char- 
 acters exists in Doha Beatriz and Filiberto Gonzaga, who are in 
 some respects the same as Isabela and Octavio of Tirso 's piece. 
 
 The similarity is not strong, it must be admitted. The Catalinon 
 of the Burlador becomes Camacho in the service of this new Don 
 Juan, but he is more like his prototype than any other character 
 in the entire play. Don Luis is an addition on the part of Zamo- 
 ra, as also are a Conde de Urena, a Marques de Cadiz, both color- 
 less and unimportant characters, and Pispireta, the "graciosa" men- 
 tioned once before. A very considerable group of fisher folk and 
 peasants are left entirely out of Zamora's list of characters in 
 

 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
49 
 
 consequence of his decreasing the number of Don Juan’s amorous ad- 
 ventures. This was presumably done to give the revision of the 
 Burlador more "decencia", a mark which Zamora has fallen short of j 
 it seems to me. Don Juan's campaign against Doha Ana fails to as- 
 sume any more "decencia" in view of his change from the suave, 
 rather gentlemanly ladies' man to the brutish character who rough- 
 ly attacks her after his victory over her champion. While this is 
 only one instead of the four seductions that take place in the Bur- 
 lador , other things of as little ’’decencia" have taken the place 
 of those omitted, as, for instance, the character of Pispireta, 
 everybody's sweetheart, and the injudicious following of Don Juan 
 by Doha Beatriz, who even appears in male attire at the site of 
 the proposed duel between Don Juan and Filiberto. 
 
 I must confess that I cannot answer satisfactorily my 
 question of some pages back regarding the reasons for this play 
 superseding the Burlador . I would suggest, however, that it is 
 probably more lively on the stage than is the Burlador . The lat- 
 ter depends for its excellence upon character drawing, and per- 
 haps this fact, coupled with the fact that there is a great deal 
 of sameness in the first part dealing with the protagonist's se- 
 ductions, might make it somewhat tiresome to the spectator intent 
 upon light entertainment only. It is true, as Farinelli says, 5 ^ 
 that the B urlador is a series of almost disconnected scenes, but 
 Zamora's piece presents little, if any, improvement in this re- 
 spect, and as for delicate strokes of character drawing, they are 
 entirely lacking. The play does, however, present action, be it 
 good or bad; it presents certain thrills to the spectator; there 
 is more music in it; all of which things would probably make it 
 

 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ' 
 

 
 more popular with the "entertainment-seeking crowd". 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
VII. DON JUAN TENOR 10 
 
 Shortly before the middle of the next century, in 1844 
 to be exact, the legend made its appearance in Spain again in a 
 new theatrical dress, after having been given more attention in 
 other countries, notably France, than in the country of its origin. 
 The Romantic poet Jose Zorrilla tried his hand at a "refundicidn" 
 of Tirso's widely known play. The play is of no great literary 
 merit, judged solely as a piece of dramatic literature, but its 
 subject, combined with the undeniable lyrical beauty that Zorrilla 
 was able to put into it, won for it a really remarkable populari- 
 ty. its religious note made a deep impression upon the Spanish 
 mind, and for over three quarters of a century it has maintained 
 its popularity wherever Spanish is spoken. It is as much a part 
 of Spanish life now as is the religious festival. All Saints' Day, 
 at the celebration of which it is played annually throughout the 
 Spanish- speaking world. 
 
 In explanation of his attempt to work over this piece, 
 Zorrilla writes as follows in his Recue r aos del tiempo viejo (Vol. 
 I, p. 162 ss): 
 
 "The theatrical season of forty-three and -four was passing 
 rapidly: Carlos Latorre had oeen working in Barcelona, and 
 Lombia had alone kept up the 'Teatro de la Cruz' with his com- 
 pany, for which I had written three dramatic works that year: 
 ... In February of forty-four Carlos Latorre returned to Ma- 
 drid, and was in need of a new work; by right it was my busi- 
 
 51 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ' 
 
 
 . • 
 
 
 
 
 
52 
 
 ness to prepare it with despatch, but I had not thought of 
 anything, and time was pressing: the theatre was to be closed 
 in April. I do not remember who suggested to me the idea of 
 a reworking of the Burl a dor de Sevill a, or whether I myself, 
 encouraged by the slight amount of work which that of Las Tra - 
 vesuras de Pantoja had cost me, had hit upon the idea while 
 looking over the collection of the ’comedias’ of Moreto; the 
 fact is that without any more material or any more study than 
 El Burlador de Sevilla , of that ingenious monk, and its bad 
 recasting by Solis, which was the one that until that time 
 had been played under the title of No hay plazo que no se cum - 
 pla ni deuda que no se pa gue or El Convidado de piedra , I con- 
 strained myself to write in twenty days a Don Juan of my own 
 handiwork. As ignorant as I was daring, I undertook it with 
 that magnificent argument, without knowing either Le Festin 
 de Pierre , of Moliere, or the beautiful libretto of the abb£ 
 
 Da Ponte, or anything, in short, of what had been written in 
 Germany, France, and Italy about the great idea of sacrile- 
 gious libertinism personified in one man: Don Juan. Without 
 realizing, then, the intrepidity of the undertaking into 
 which I was about to launch myself; without any knowledge of 
 the world or of the human heart; without social or literary 
 studies in preparation for treating a subject as widespread 
 as it is wonderful; relying solely upon my poetical intuition 
 and my faculty for making verses, I began my Don Juan one 
 sleepless night with the scene of the 'cvillejos 1 in the sec- 
 ond act between Don Juan and the servant of Dciia Ana de Pan- 
 toja. Here already I was entering the path of mannerisms and 
 

 
 ‘ 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
53 
 
 bad taste from which a great part of my work suffers; because 
 the ’ovillejo' , or 'septima real' , is the most forced and ar- 
 tificial metrical arrangement that I know of: ..." 
 
 Of the Recuerdos , Fi t zmaurice-Aelly says in his Hi storia 
 de la literatura espanola (Madrid, 1913, p. 407), that it is a 
 "libro mas interesante que exacto" . ¥ That this statement is not 
 without foundation may be seen in the brief extract just given. 
 Zorrilla’ s compatriot, Alonso Cortes, calls attention^ 2 to several 
 "slips of his pen". Likewise, Adolfo de Castro says he must have 
 been mistaken in certain statements . 53 
 
 Zorrilla says he may have "hit upon the idea while look- 
 ing over the collection of the ’coraedias' of Moreto". Alonso Cor- 
 tes dismisses this as a slip of the pen, adding that Tirso was, of 
 course, the writer whom Zorrilla had in mind. I am by no means 
 certain that this correction need be made. Among Moreto’ s dramat- 
 ic pieces is one entitled San Franco de Sena , or in the undated 
 Seville edition, El Lego de Carmen, San Franco de Sena . The argu- 
 ment has to do with a libertine who, after a long series of re- 
 volting crimes among which was a rape accomplished by his pretend- 
 ing to be the lady’s lover, loses his sight by the intervention of 
 Heaven itself upon his losing a bet in which eye-sight was the 
 
 ‘Exactly the same statement appears in his Litterature 
 espagnole (Paris, 1913, p. 415). It does not appear in the Eng- 
 lish edition of 1898, published in New York and London, but does 
 appear in Bonilla y San Martin’s translation (published in Madrid 
 without date, but which probably appeared in 1901, since the pref- 
 atory remarks of the translator are dated October, 1900, and the 
 prologue by Menendez y Pelayo is dated July 15, 1901) in these 
 words: "libro interesante, pero muy inexacto en los pormenores" 
 
 (p. 504). The first French edition, a translation by Davray, pub- 
 lished in Paris in 1904, characterizes the Recuerdos as "souvenirs 
 interessants mais inexacts" (p. 394). 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 ' • 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
54 
 
 stake on both sides. His mode of life, as well as that of the vic- 
 tim of his rape, changes entirely, and he becomes a monk. His vic- 
 tim, who has become a prostitute, witnesses his devotion, is 
 struck by it, and renounces her sins, whereupon she is taken up by 
 angels and carried directly from the foot of the cross to heaven.* 
 Certain resemblances to the Bur lador are unmistakable, 
 and may very easily have suggested the subject to Zorrilla. More- 
 over, just previously, Zorrilla himself mentions his "refundicidn" 
 of Moreto's Las Travesuras de Pantoja , a n r efundicidn" which he 
 had entitled La Mejor razon, la esp ada. There need scarcely be 
 any question as to whether Moreto's play, the San Franco , was 
 available to Zorrilla. The first edition of Moreto's works con- 
 taining this play was issued in 1652. Another appeared in 1654, 
 both of these being published at Madrid. There were at least five 
 others: one at Valencia in 1676, another at Madrid in the same 
 year; Antwerp, 1680; Valencia, 1765; and one at Seville of un- 
 known date. When he specifically mentions " El Bur lador de Sevilla , 
 of that ingenious monk", we need not assume that "that ingenious 
 monk" refers to Moreto, although Moreto was (despite the fact that 
 Cotarelo denies it) a monk, having taken holy orders and become, 
 in 1657, "recteur de l'hospice du Refuge" at Toledo. The phrase 
 does not mean " that ingenious monk", but "that ingenious monk " who 
 would be so well known to the people for whom Zorrilla was writing 
 
 *Luis Fernandez-Guerra y Orbe, in his catalogue of Mo- 
 reto's works in Vol. XXXIX of the Biblioteca de Autores Espanoles 
 (p. xli), mentions a continuation of this play in these words: 
 "Although at the end a second part was promised, it does not ap- 
 pear that the poet kept his w r ord; the continuation which exists 
 is by Rivadeneyra . " 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ' . ... 
 
 . < 
 
 
55 
 
 his Recuerdos that he did not need to be mentioned by name. The 
 semicolon after "Moreto", rather than a period, is surely meant to 
 show the close connection between the suggestion and its execution; 
 not a connection between "Moreto" and " El Burlador de Sevilla ". 
 Moreover, granted that the idea came from a perusal of the San 
 Franco de Sena , what would be more natural than to turn back to 
 the Burlador , the first and foremost of the Don Juan literary ex- 
 pressions, for the material on which to base the new play? 
 
 With more point, Alonso Cortes takes exception also to 
 the imputation of the "mala refundici<5n" of the Burlador , under 
 the title of No hay plazo que no se cumpla , to Solis. It has been 
 presumed that Dionisio Solis (the pseudonym of Dionisio Villanue- 
 va y Ochoa, born in 1774) is the one to whom the reference is made. 
 This Solis was intimately connected with the theatre of his time, 
 and recast many older plays for the nineteenth century stage. I 
 have been unable to obtain a complete list of his "r ef undiciones" 
 and cannot, therefore, be sure that he does not have to his cred- 
 it one with the above title. I think, however, that it was not 
 Dionisio Solis, but Antonio (born in 1610), that Zorrilla had in 
 mind. I have found nothing to indicate that Antonio Solis made a 
 "refundici6n" of the Burlador , and certainly he had no reputation 
 as an adapter, such as Dionisio had, but he did write, according 
 to Picatoste (p. 152), a "loa" to Tirso's play. This "loa" was 
 written expressly for the actor Sebastian de Prado, who took a 
 Spanish company to Paris in 1659 and "represent6 con extraordina- 
 rio exito la obra original de Tirso de Molina, precedida de la 
 'loa'" which Solis wrote. The latter's name was probably commonly 
 known in connection with this "loa", and Zorrilla 1 s uncertain mem- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 \ 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
56 
 
 ory confused him with the writer of the "mala r efundici6n " . 
 
 It is entirely unnecessary to assume, on the strength of 
 Zorrilla's remark, that Dionisio Solis adapted an older play un- 
 der the title Mo hay plazo que no se cumpla . On the other hand, 
 it is almost certain that he did not. If he had done so, his play 
 would have become known through representation on the stage. Now, 
 we know that a play of this title was popular in Spain before Zo- 
 rrilla's time, and, moreover, we know that it was Zamora's, and 
 not Solis'. Alonso Cortes makes the following statement with ref- 
 erence to this matter (p. 418, note): "A curious and little known 
 fact is that before Zorrilla Don Juan Tenorio already appeared on 
 the stage every year in the month of November, in the "refundici6n" 
 of Zamora." In support of his statement he quotes from the Obras 
 completas (t. IV) of Mila y Fontanals, who writes these words: "La 
 comedia de Zamora es la que actualmente se representa. . . . Dificil 
 parece explicar por que la comedia que representa los hechos y la 
 suerte de este personaje llena cada Noviembre los teatros..., por 
 que el pueblo corre a presenciarla a pesar de sus nuevas preocupa- 
 ciones, que a sus antiguas pr eocupaciones han sucedido." Cotare- 
 lo adds the weight of his testimony in these words: "Antes del Don 
 Juan Tenori o, de Zorrilla, este de Zamora era el que se represen- 
 taba en nuestros teatros" ( Cat, raz ., p. ix). Evidently, then, 
 Zorrilla meant "Zamora" when he wrote "Solis", and the title 
 should read " pa g ue, y C onvi dado " instead of " pague o Convidado", 
 as Zorrilla wrote, thereby giving another instance of his careless- 
 ness. 
 
 Some lines farther on, Zorrilla refers to "el precicso 
 libreto del abate Da Ponte". Once more we have evidence of his 
 

 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ! 
 
 
 
 
 
 . . . 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
57 
 
 lack of care in verifying his information before he wrote. "R.G.", 
 in La Gr ande Encycl cp£ die (Vol. XIII, p. 922), gives a formidable 
 list of the activities of the versatile Da Ponte but does not men- 
 tion his having been an abbe. The article says that "he was chief- 
 ly an adventurer, ... His destiny was to rove about the world: and 
 he roved, — as tutor, teacher, political poet, librettist or the- 
 atrical poet at Vienna, 'entrepreneur' of itinerant opera in Hol- 
 land, mendicant, or almost so, theatre manager in London, broker 
 in street-singers, bookseller, music dealer, 'negociant vague' in 
 America, dealer in brandy, teacher of Italian, distiller, then 
 bookdealer, finally bankrupt and instructor in a girls' boarding 
 school..." This list is obviously not exact, since it fails to 
 mention his services as Professor of Italian in Columbia College, 
 beginning in 1825, but it is indicative, and in this career there 
 is very little indication of any leanings toward the priesthood. 
 Again we must recognize Zorrilla's lack of attention to details. 
 
 I call attention to these inaccuracies to show that Zo- 
 rrilla is not to be taken too seriously in everything he says, but 
 after all they are minor points. Of more importance is the con- 
 sideration of the statement I have quoted as a whole. He says, 
 
 "the fact is that without any more material or any more study than 
 El Burlador de Sevilla , of that ingenious monk, and its bad re- 
 casting by Solis, ... I constrained myself to write in twenty days 
 a Don Jua n of my own handiwork". He denies other sources more spe- 
 cifically a few lines farther on where he says, "As ignorant as I 
 was daring, I undertook it with that magnificent argument, without 
 knowing either Le Fest in de Pierr e, of Moliere, or the beautiful 
 libretto of the abbe Da Ponte, or anything, in short, of what had 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 * 
 
 fl 
 
 • ; 
 
 s 
 
 s 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
58 
 
 been written in Germany, France, and Italy about the great idea of 
 sacrilegious libertinism personified in one man: Don Juan". "That 
 magnificent argument" is doubtless Tirso’s Pur lador . 
 
 To those who know both his Don Juan Tenor io and the 
 French versions of the same general period, this statement of Zo- 
 rrilla's is absolutely incredible. I have been unable to find a 
 single defence of it. In spite of Professor Waxman * s statement 
 that Spanish critics "are loud in their praises of Zorrilla's orig- 
 inality, and make no mention whatever of his indebtedness to pre- 
 ceding authors" (p. 199), I find that even his friends cannot ac- 
 cept his statement as fact. In an article which Alonso Cortes 
 characterizes (p. 433) as "no digno de la fama de su autor", Adol- 
 fo de Castro says this: 55 "He tells us that he had in mind only 
 the work of Tirso de Molina, and I believe that he allowed himself 
 to take more of the argument of the drama Don Juan de Marana . 
 which, with the title of La Caida de un angel , his friend and mine, 
 the great poet, a son of this province, D. Antonio Garcia Gutie- 
 rrez, translated into Spanish, in prose and verse." 
 
 Alonso Cortes points out that one of the sources that 
 Zorrilla himself mentions 1, could not have served the poet as a 
 guide, everything about the two pieces being different except some 
 of the names and the general character of the protagonist. But, 
 he adds (pp. 406-7): "I believe that, in fact, Zorrilla was en- 
 couraged to write the Don Juan in view of the work of Zamora, but 
 that in carrying out his task he had in memory at least Merimee's 
 
 *Alonso Cortes considers this to be Zamora's No hay pla - 
 zo, notwithstanding Zorrilla's assertion that he used a "refundi- 
 ci<5n" of Solis. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 I 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 •I 
 
 
 
 »■ , 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
59 
 
 Les Ames du purgato ire, Blaze de Bury's Soup er chez le comm a ndeur , 
 and the Don Juan de Marana , of Dumas. He did not awkwardly take 
 concrete details and episodes from each one, but he genially blend- 
 ed, in his fancy, elements from all of them, improving them all.” 
 
 Picatoste expresses his opinion in these words (p. 182): 
 "Suffice it to say that Zorrilla has joined in it all that had 
 been previously written about such a character. ... Zorrilla has 
 accumulated in the action of his drama, with incredible exaggera- 
 tion, everything that has been conceived by the foreign poets who 
 have written upon this type.” 
 
 Pi y Margall writes this (p. liv): "Our distinguished 
 and brilliant poet Don Jose Zorrilla has also written his Don Juan 
 Tenor io , one of his most applauded dramas. If they were not ac- 
 quainted with it, my readers would have difficulty in believing 
 that he had traced it over that of Dumas, since he did not lack 
 originality and had in Spain better models and guides. It is true 
 that he has corrected some faults of the one he took as a model; 
 on the other hand, he has not only reproduced others, but has ag- 
 gravated them. And he has not avoided committing some on his own 
 account . n 
 
 Cotarelo y Mori, in his Cata log o razonado del teatro de 
 Tirso de Molina (p. x), says that "Zorrilla took the subject mat- 
 ter of his work, for the most part, from Zamora's Convidado and 
 from Dumas' Marana " . He goes further and says, "As for Tirso' s 
 Burlador , he was not even acquainted with it, whatever he may as- 
 sert to the contrary in his Recuerdos del tiempo vie.io (tomo I, 
 pag. 163), where he writes these most inexact words". At this 
 point Cotarelo quotes a portion of the passage which I have given 
 

 
 
 
 
 * . 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 * 1 
 
 . 
 
 .. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
above, lines 3 to 14 on page 52. In commenting upon this state- 
 ment which Zorrilla makes, Cotarelo says, "There are as many er- 
 rors as there are statements". 
 
 Another Spanish critic, Juan Martinez Villergas 5 ^ writes 
 as follows of the Don Juan Tenor lo : "Not only is it a wretched 
 travesty, but its author has had the weakness to appropriate to 
 himself all the most noteworthy material that he has found in the 
 authors that have preceded him, and in order that it may not be 
 said that I am speaking empty words, I refer my readers to the 
 fourth scene of the second act of the Don Juan de Marana , of A. Du- 
 mas, ... which is translated literally in the Don Juan Tenorio , of 
 Zorrilla." Ramirez Angel, who quotes the above criticism of Mar- 
 tinez Villergas, makes no direct remarks, confining himself to 
 this prefatory characterization of Martinez Villergas: "ya en 
 otras ocasiones critico implacable y parcial de Zorrilla". 
 
 In the 1904 edition of Fitzmaurice-Kelly ' s Li tterature 
 espagnole , translated by Henry-D. Davry, we read (p. 396), "Zorri- 
 lla will live through plays such as ... Don Juan Tenorio , suggest- 
 ed by Les Ames du purgato ire of Prosper Merimee". In an article 
 on "Don Juan" in the eleventh edition of the Encyclopaedia Britan- 
 nica (1910), the same writer says, "It is in fact little more than 
 an adaptation of the elder Dumas' Don Juan de Marana . which, in 
 turn, derives chiefly from Merimee 's novel, Les Ames du purga- 
 toire". In the second edition of the Literature espagnole (1913), 
 the statement has been augmented and reads thus (p. 416): "Zorri- 
 lla will live through some of his plays: Don Juan Tenorio (1844), 
 
 — the sources of which are Dumas pere's Don Juan de Marana, ou la 
 
 Chute d'un ange (1825) (sic; the real date was 1834)." 
 
 The same 
 

 
 
 
 
 
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 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 * 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
61 
 
 writer's statement in his Historia de la llt era tura espan ola (Ma- 
 drid, 1913, p. 408) is identical in import, even to the inaccuracy 
 in the date of Les Ames du pur g atoire . In the Bonilla transla- 
 tion into Spanish (Madrid, no date, but which, as stated above, 
 probably appeared in 1901), no reference is made to the sources, 
 nor indeed is there in the English original of 1898. 
 
 Professor Waxman's opinion is expressed in the following 
 words (pp. 198-9): "Until I had read Dumas' Juan de Mar ana , I had 
 given credit to Zorrilla for a great amount of originality in pla- 
 cing Don Juan in an entirely new environment. Blanco Garcia, in 
 his Literatura espanola en el siglo XIX , like many other Spanish 
 critics, gives the impression that Don Juan Tenor io is Zorrilla' s 
 own conception of the legend; but so far as I can see, Zorrilla' s 
 play is nothing but a combination of Tirso's Bur lador and Dumas' 
 Juan de Mar ana . His plot is partly that of Tirso, and partly that 
 of Dumas; but his Don Juan is not the weak creature of Dumas — he 
 is the bold, defiant libertine of Tirso. Zorrilla was a Spaniard, 
 and knew how to characterize this purely Spanish conception of Don 
 Juan. I do not mean to imply that his play is a servile imita- 
 tion, — he has woven together the elements of preceding plays in 
 such a way as to make his work seem original, — but by the care- 
 ful reader it may be easily seen that his situations have been 
 borrowed. I wish to lay great stress upon this point, in refuta- 
 tion of the boast of Spanish critics, who are loud in their prais- 
 es of Zorrilla' s originality, and make no mention whatever of his 
 indebtedness to preceding authors." We have seen enough, I think, 
 
 J 
 
 to feel that Waxman's judgment of Spanish critics is unjust, but 
 let us look at the statement of Blanco Garcia, the only critic 
 

 ' 
 
 . 
 
 
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 ft 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
62 
 
 whom Waxman names in his general condemnation of all of them. On 
 page 211 of the "Primera Parte" of Blanco Garcia's work we read 
 this statement: "It must be agreed that the creation of the type 
 of Don Juan is very Spanish on the whole, even though there may be 
 in it elements which are found in the tradition and literature of 
 different countries." This, I think, refers to the character as 
 separated from any one play, and is meant to be applied perhaps to 
 the Don Juan in the Bur lador rather than to the character in any 
 later work involving him. A few lines farther on, Blanco Garcia 
 says specifically of Zorrilla's play, "Zorrilla tried to give 
 greater interest and variety to the primitive legend of Tenorio, 
 combining it with others; he took from the Don Juan de Marana . of 
 Alexander Dumas, the idea of saving the protagonist and of making 
 his personality prominent by setting him off against a rival". In 
 view of these quotations, it becomes evident that Waxman, when he 
 says, "I do not mean to imply that his play is a servile imitation, 
 — he has woven together the elements of preceding plays in such a 
 way as to make his work seem original", and "Zorrilla was a Span- 
 iard and knew how to characterize this purely Spanish conception 
 of Don Juan", has said almost the same thing he condemns in a Span- 
 ish critic. What is literary originality, anyway, but new combi- 
 nations of older elements? Certainly at this stage of literary 
 study one ought to realize the extreme scarcity of entirely orig- 
 inal situations in any sort of writing. Blanco Garcia does some- 
 what indignantly (and who would find fault with him?) deny Fari- 
 nelli's asseveration that Zorrilla lacked dramatic talent absolute- 
 ly, and that almost any one could have produced a better Don Juan 
 than Zorrilla's — "so famous and so weak". This play probably is 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 , 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 ■ 
 
 . 
 
[== 
 
 63 
 
 not a great drama from a literary point of view, but the statement 
 that such a play (one which has been increasingly popular for so 
 long, and not locally either, but all over the Spanish- speaking 
 world) gives evidence of absolutely no dramatic talent on the part 
 of the author, is open to attack on general principles. 
 
 My quarrel with Zorrilla is not that he lacks originali- 
 ty, nor that he has borrowed or made use of situations that can be 
 identified in the works of his predecessors, but that he denied 
 acquaintance with all of the material there was in French, German, 
 and Italian. With few exceptions, the critics who say he followed 
 Dumas in some points make no mention of his denial of such a 
 source. Did they know he had made the statement? The article of 
 Pi y Margall was published as early as 1878 and hence appeared be- 
 fore the Recuerdos , which bear the date of 1880. All the other 
 critics quoted could have known them. Did they? If they did, why 
 did they ignore his statement? As far as I can find, the belief 
 is unanimous that, for some reason or other, he erred; but why is 
 not his side of the case stated when the refutation is made? I 
 think that the Recuerdos have, perhaps, not been taken very seri- 
 ously, but rather as the somewhat incoherent mutterings of an old 
 man no longer in complete control of his faculties. It will be 
 remembered that the Recuerdos were the product of his later years, 
 after he had passed three score years (he was born February 21, 
 1817) and had undergone many disappointments. I think a reading 
 of the Recuerdos will inevitably leave the impression that the mo- 
 tives behind many of his later actions (and some of his earlier 
 ones) were, to say the least, childish. With a sort of tacit un- 
 derstanding of this character of the Recuerdos, his denial of ac- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
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 . 
 
 . 
 
64 
 
 quaintance with Dumas and others has been ignored as the error of a 
 man whose memory was no longer as clear as it had once been. 
 
 Whether or not Zorrilla knew French, I cannot say, but 
 the probability is that, under the political conditions of the 
 time, most educated Spaniards did, Zorrilla among them. If he did, 
 he could have read Merirnee's novel (1834) and Dumas' play (1836) 
 in the original, for at least the latter was well known at that 
 time, according to Enrique Pineyro? 7 who refers to Alexander Dumas 
 as the "guia y maestro de los dramdticos espanoles de la epoca". 
 
 Les Ames du purgatoire was first published in a periodical 58 and 
 was thus in a form suitable for wide circulation. Moreover, it is 
 not unlikely that Merirnee's earlier activities in Spain, which he 
 visited in 1829 (staying till near the end of 1830) and again just 
 ten years later, may have aroused a certain amount of interest in 
 whatever he might write, and especially those works concerned with 
 things Spanish. Professor Pedro Henrfquez Urena is authority for 
 the statement that most French literature was read in Spain at 
 that time, and there is every reason to believe that Merimee was 
 no exception. 5 ® This being the case, Zorrilla, moving among 
 people with literary tastes, would be able to know the French works 
 even without being able to read them for himself. He went to 
 Paris about the middle of 1845, scarcely more than a year after he 
 wrote the Tenorio , and the chances are that his interest in the 
 French Romantic writers would have led him to a knowledge of 
 French much earlier than 1844, even if he had not studied French 
 in his school days at the Seminary of the Nobles, in Madrid, a 
 thing which is quite possible. I think it it safe to assume that 
 Zorrilla must have had a knowledge of French. There is still an- 
 

 
 i ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . ' 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 • . ■ 
 
 a ‘If ■£•.*, ' 07 
 
 
 
 
 
 
65 
 
 other channel, however, through which he may have known the French 
 Don Juans . We know there were many translations from the French 
 at that period. As to whether any of M^rimee's works were put in- 
 to Spanish, I have no specific information, but Dumas' play did ex- 
 ist in Spanish. Cotarelo y Mori says 60 that after Dumas published 
 his Don Juan de Marana , it was translated into Spanish at least 
 twice, and also represented on the Spanish stage. The first of 
 these translations, one made by "J. A. LI.", was printed in Tarra- 
 gona in 1838. This translator states that it was necessary to 
 make some variations from the original, without which, perhaps, the 
 play would have clashed with Spanish ideas and customs. The sec- 
 ond translation was made by Zorrilla's intimate friend, Garcia Gu- 
 tierrez. It was represented on the stage and also printed in 1839, 
 at Madrid, five years before Zorrilla wrote his play. Cotarelo 
 says our dramatist could have seen it "varias veces". In view of 
 Dumas' popularity among the Spanish Romanticists of the time, and 
 in view of these translations and representations of this partic- 
 ular play, it is inconceivable that Zorrilla could have been un- 
 acquainted with the Don Juan de Marana . 
 
 Before examining the points of similarity between the 
 two plays, it will be well to get an idea of Zorrilla's play as a 
 whole. It is divided into two distinct parts, the first giving, 
 in four acts, events of 1545, and the second, in three acts, cer- 
 tain happenings "years afterwards". This division into two sepa- 
 rate parts, with a long lapse of time intervening, is, I believe, 
 original with Zorrilla. I know of no other version like his in 
 this respect. His argument is as follows: Don Juan and a rival, 
 Don Luis, who have been absent for a year, are expected at a cer- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 . 
 
 ” ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
66 
 
 tain inn, where friends of each are discussing their merits while 
 awaiting their coming. When the principals arrive, they seat them- 
 selves at a table together and recall the terms of a wager which 
 has caused their absence and present meeting by prearrangement. 
 
 Each has bet he would do more and worse evil things than the oth- 
 er in the space of a year. Don Juan reports that he went to Rome; 
 had to leave by stealth to avoid being hanged; joined the Spanish 
 army; had five or six duels; fled to Naples; and there in a half 
 year he committed every conceivable kind of crime. Don Luis first 
 
 went to Flanders; robbed a bishop's palace; fled to Germany; then 
 
 spent a half year in Paris in the same manner as Don Juan was 
 spending it in Naples. He is now engaged to marry Dona Ana de Pan- 
 toja. Written lists of their crimes show that Don Luis has killed 
 twenty-three men in duels and betrayed fifty-six women; Don Juan 
 has killed thirty-two men and seduced seventy-two women, ranging 
 in the social scale from a royal princess to a fisherman's daugh- 
 ter. Don Luis tells him he has not traversed the complete scale, 
 since one type is lacking; — there is no nun in the list. Don 
 Juan wagers that he will add such a one in six days, and more than 
 that, he will dishonor the fiancee of a friend who is about to be 
 married. This lady is, he boldly says. Dona Ana de Pantoja. 
 
 Don Luis, put on his guard by this boast, goes and asks 
 
 for a rendezvous with Doha Ana for ten o'clock that night. He 
 tells her of his fears, and finally gains her promise of complete 
 compliance with his desires. She will give him entrance at ten 
 o'clock. Don Juan hears all this, which takes place at Doha Ana's 
 window. He approaches Don Luis and they quarrel, the latter being 
 overpowered and safely confined by servants of Don Juan. Mean- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 . ' • • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
67 
 
 while, however, Don Juan has, with the aid of his servant and the 
 girl's "dueha", arranged to see, at nine o'clock, his sv/eetheart, 
 Doha In£s de Ulloa, whom her father has put into a convent to pre- 
 vent her becoming the bride of Don Juan. His appearance in her 
 cell frightens her and she faints, in which condition she is car- 
 ried without difficulty to Don Juan's castle by the river, just 
 outside of Seville, the whole affair, of course, being finished be- 
 fore ten o'clock. At the appointed time, Don Juan, pretending to 
 be Don Luis, accomplishes his desires upon "the fiancee of a 
 friend who is about to be married". When he returns to his castle 
 from this affair, he reassures Doha Ines and makes violent love to 
 her, a love which has the appearance of sincerity. He thinks he 
 would even be capable of virtue for her sake. They are disturbed 
 by the arrival of Don Luis, come to pay the forfeit of his life 
 for having lost the wager. He is unwilling to go to slaughter 
 like a cow, however, but wants to fight like a gentleman, for Don 
 Juan triumphed over Dona Ana by trickery. Don Gonzalo de Ulloa, 
 Doha Ines' father, arrives, and in apparent sincerity Don Juan asks 
 very humbly for the hand of Doha In£s in marriage. He promises 
 all kinds of proof of his virtuous love for her, but Don Gonzalo 
 is unshaken, his attitude toward Don Juan being insulting. Don 
 Luis taunts the latter with cowardice, whereupon Don Juan shoots 
 Don Gonzalo, telling him the responsibility will be his (Don Gon- 
 zalo' s) before God. He then kills Don Luis in an encounter with 
 swords, and at the approach of officers, he jumps off the balcony 
 into the river and rows away. Doha Ines later dies of a broken 
 heart, but maintains her defence of Don Juan to the last. 
 
 Years afterward Don Juan comes back to the scene of his 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
68 
 
 earlier misdeeds and finds a new cemetery where he seeks his old 
 home. He is told that his father had it laid out on the site of 
 the home as a burial place to be used exclusively for the victims 
 of his son. At the tomb of Doha In4s he shows sorrow and respect, 
 but that of Don Gonzalo merely evoke an insolent invitation to sup- 
 per. When Don Juan is eating supper with some friends that night, 
 the statue appears and returns the invitation. The shade of Doha 
 Ines also appears and bids Don Juan do as her father says. He 
 promises, and when he goes to the tomb and knocks, it is converted 
 into a table horribly decorated, while the other tombs, except 
 that of Doha In£s, give up their dead to fill the stage. Don Gon- 
 zalo tells Don Juan of an eternity of fire and ashes, and the lat- 
 ter complains that he should have been told earlier, for now re- 
 pentance is no longer possible. He is assured that it is, and is 
 also told that he is dead, — that he has been killed by one of 
 his supper companions in a quarrel that followed the appearance of 
 the dead man at the supper. The statue takes his hand, and he 
 kneels and confesses his faith in God. Doha Ines comes forth and 
 takes his other hand, telling him that her soul has redeemed his. 
 She bids the spirits return to their tombs. Everything changes; 
 dawn lights up the new scene, which is peopled with angels amidst 
 a profusion of flowers. Doha In£s is lying on a bed of flowers, 
 which occupies the place from which the tomb has disappeared. As 
 Don Juan expresses his thanks to God, he falls at her feet. Such 
 is the most popular of all Don Juan dramas, and the last Spanish 
 version that retains any resemblance to the original legend. 
 
 Let us now examine some of the details of the play. 
 
 Both Merimee and Dumas bring in lists of women seduced, together 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
69 
 
 with the husbands betrayed. Zorrilla does not use the double list, 
 it will be observed. M&rim6e's list was made out by the hero dur- 
 ing a period of convalescence when he had time to be thinking of 
 what he had done; Dumas' hero apparently had his list ready against 
 a time when he might have occasion to use it as evidence of his 
 prowess; and Zorrilla' s hero prepared his list for a definite oc- 
 casion. In all three cases the person seeing it declared it 
 lacked one type, — the same in each case, — and all three Don 
 Juans vowed to supply the missing type. Merimee 's idea has all 
 the appearances of originality, while Zorrilla' s decidedly does 
 not seem to be original, though it is barely possible that it 
 could be. Dumas' situation has no appearance of originality at 
 all. Alonso Cortes says that Zorrilla got his idea from Merimee, 
 but I rather think it came from Dumas, because it is set in the 
 same sort of scene — the inn scene — in both plays. Indeed, 
 there is almost as much similarity in the entire scene as in the 
 incident of the lists. In both cases, friends are championing the 
 reputations of the heroes; in both cases, previous reservation has 
 been made by the other before Don Juan enters and boldly takes a 
 seat, against the advice of onlookers, at the table which he is 
 told has been reserved. In Dumas, the rivals meet in the inn for 
 the first time, and the wager follows; in Zorrilla, they are old 
 friends, who meet by appointment to decide a wager made a year pre- 
 viously. In Dumas, Sandoval loses his mistress by an unlucky 
 throw of the dice; in Zorrilla, Don Luis loses his through Don 
 Juan's trickery. In both cases a duel follows the 7/ager, and Don 
 Juan kills his opponent. 
 
 It is the opinion of Alonso Cortes that Merimee furnished 
 

 6-1 m 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 Tj 
 
 . 
 
70 I 
 
 Zorrilla the idea of Don Juan's stratagem of passing off for the 
 lady's lover. There is no need whatsoever for this supposition; 
 the very first scene of the Burlador uses the same device, and it 
 was common long before Merim^e. It will be recalled that it ap- 
 peared in the San Franco de Se na, of Moreto. This particular epi- 
 sode has no counterpart in Dumas' play. 
 
 The idea of a repentant Don Juan is not new with Zorri- 
 lla. Merim^e did not give him his idea, however, for Zorrilla' s 
 situation is entirely different from M^rimee's. Dumas' situation, 
 on the other hand, is very similar to Zorrilla' s. Dumas' Don Juan 
 is saved through the intervention of a woman he would have wronged; 
 so is Don Juan Tenor io. The woman's influence in each case is ex- 
 erted after her death, that is, under mystic circumstances. Teno- 
 rio was persuaded to repent by a woman for whom he had felt a real 
 affection; Marana was persuaded to repent, probably, rather by the 
 extraordinary phenomena about him than by any affection he might 
 have felt for Sister Martha, that is, he repented through the weak- 
 ening rather than the melting of his heart, but nevertheless Sis- 
 ter Martha was the agent who secured his expression of repentance. 
 Said Armesto DX agrees that the rehabilitation of Don Juan is no 
 "invencidn de ultima hora", but he asserts that his redemption 
 through love is exactly that, and that this modern and romantic 
 idea was obtained by Zorrilla from Goethe ( sic ) . Of course, Zorri- 
 lla knew nothing about Goethe's work; we have his w r ord for it. On 
 the other hand, no less a scholar than Farinelli assures us that 
 Dumas combined certain elements of the Faust legend with the Don 
 Juan legend. ^ This does not give us a basis for Zorrilla' s idea, 
 
 however, since Dumas' Don Juan gives no evidence of any real af- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
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71 
 
 fection for Sister Martha. His repentance is a sort of apathetic, 
 half-frightened surrender to her impassioned pleas for an expres- 
 sion of belief in God. 
 
 Waxman states in these words what most critics seem to 
 believe (p. 199): "In Zorrilla’ s play we have the first suggestion 
 of love in Don Juan. ... Here he really loves In6s, and weeps at 
 the sight of her grave." In the light of our examination of C6r- 
 doba’s Venganza en el sepulcro , this opinion will have to be dis- 
 carded. But did Zorrilla get his idea from the manuscript of C6r- 
 doba's play, the only form in which it existed in Zorrilla 1 s time? 
 Probably not; and he will either have to be given credit for orig- 
 inating the idea independently, or be accused of knowing more 
 about Goethe than he admitted. 
 
 The quality of romantic mysticism and fancifulness in 
 the last part of both the Zorrilla and Dumas plays is very similar, 
 and I have no doubt whatever that Dumas suggested much of it to Zo- 
 rrilla. Alonso Cortes thinks it came from Blaze de Bury (Hans Wer- 
 ner). The latter’s Souper c he z le commandeur 6 3 has not, in my 
 opinion, a single element in it that is likely to have furnished 
 Zorrilla any of his ideas. The piece, occupying pages 497 to 558 
 of the Revue des Deux Monde s , is not divided into acts, nor even 
 scenes. It is concerned only with events in the burial place of 
 
 i 
 
 the Commandeur , whose family name is Palenquez. There are only 
 three characters which are common to all Don Juan stories; name- 
 ly, the Commandeur, his daughter, and her seducer. There are 
 three other statues with speaking parts, all ancestors of the Com- 
 mandeur. There is none of the melodramatic fancifulness of Dumas 
 and Zorrilla, beyond the attribution of the powers of motion and 
 

 
 
 
 
 
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 ■ 
 
 ■ 
 
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72 
 
 speech to the statues. There are long speeches and practically no 
 action. Doha In£s' and Sister Martha's efforts to save Don Juan's 
 soul might seem to be parodied in Doha Anna's frantic attempts to 
 get Don Juan to weep and pray her soul out of purgatory, if it were 
 not for the fact that Doha Anna appeared in literature two years 
 earlier than Sister Martha, and ten years before Doha In6s. Don 
 Juan resists her pleadings as long as she is with him, but when 
 she leaves the tomb, he begins a monologue and soon falls to his 
 knees and invokes the Virgin Mary, apparently a changed man. Be- 
 fore leaving the tomb, he is told that his statue will take its 
 place among the Commandeur's ancestors when he dies if he has 
 prayed Doha Anna's soul out of purgatory. At leaving, apparently 
 in perfect understanding with the Commandeur, he announces that he 
 is going out to take his part in the chorus of men, meaning, I 
 think, that he will enter a monastery. 
 
 The much discussed and unfavorably criticised "oville- 
 jos" of Act II, scene 11, bear a strong resemblance to a similar 
 conversation between analogous characters in Dumas' play. One of 
 these characters is Don Juan and the other is the "dueha", called 
 in the plays respectively Lucia and Paquita. In Zorrilla, a por- 
 tion of the dialogue is as follows: " Lucia : lOh! Si es quien me do- 
 ra el pico... Don Juan : Muy rico. Lucia : ASi? AQ.ue nombre usa el 
 galan? Don Juan : Don Juan. Lucfa : ASin apellido notorio? Don 
 Juan: Tenorio." The same purpose, the same means, and the same re- 
 sult, as well as very similar ideas, are expressed thus by Dumas 
 (II, 2): " Don Juan : Quant a moi, je suis le comte don Juan de Ma- 
 rana. Paquita : Noble? Don Juan : Je t'ai dit mon nom. Paquita : 
 Riche? Don Juan : Comme une mine d' or. Paquita : Et magnifique? 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 t . 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
73 
 
 
 Don Juan : Corame le roi . Paquita : Vous croirai-je sur parole? Don 
 Juan, lul donnant sa bours e: Non, sur actions." The significant 
 thing to be observed here is that we find very similar conversa- 
 tions in still more similar situations. A very similar situation 
 and a somewhat similar conversation occur in the first scene of 
 Victor Hugo's Hernani between Don Carlos and Doha Josefa, the 
 "duena" of Dofia Sol.* This is entirely outside the realm of Don 
 Juan literature, and there is little reason to consider this as a 
 possible source of Zorrilla's dialogue, though Dumas might have 
 been influenced by it. Scenes that are more likely to have sug- 
 gested Zorrilla's scene than is this one from Hugo, are from Za- 
 mora's and Moreto's plays already mentioned. In neither case is 
 there much similarity of situation, but the method of the question- 
 ers in getting information strongly reminds one of the scenes just 
 noted. ** 
 
 In connection with the redemption of Don Juan, we may no- 
 tice other points of similarity in Dumas' and Zorrilla's plays. 
 
 Carlos : Duegne, c'est ici qu'aura lieu l'entretien? Jo- 
 sefa : Oui . Carlos : Cache-moi ceans. Josefa : Vous! Carlos : Moi. 
 Josefa : Pourquoi? Carlos : Pour rien. Josefa : Moi, vous cacher! 
 Carlos : Ici. Josefa : Jamais! Carlos, tirant de sa ceinture un 
 poignard et une bourse : Daignez, madame, choisir de cette bourse 
 ou de cette lame. Josefa, prenant la bourse : Vous etes done le 
 diable? Carlos : Oui , duegne . Josefa : Entrez ici. 
 
 ** San Franco de Sena ( Bib . de Aut . Esp . , Vol. 39, p. 126): 
 Aur elio : AAh, hidalgo? Dato : A ti es. Franco : Como no lo soy, 
 por no desmentirle, callo. Aur elio : Oye: Aah, Caballero? Franco : 
 Miente. Aurelio : Remitido esta el agravio; que yo confieso que 
 miento, pues debris de ser villano. Franco : Tambi£n miente. Au- 
 relio : Pues, Aque sois? Franco : Ni tan alto ni tan bajo. 
 
 No hay plazo que no se cuarpla ( B. A. E . , Vol. 49, p. 423): 
 Luis : AHidalgo? Juan : Pico mas alto. Luis : ARey mfo? Juan : No 
 tan arriba. Luis : ACaballero? Juan: A si me llamo. 
 

 
 
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 *• 
 
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 .i . O T ' ' - T-L**'. tCC 
 
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 Bf .t C 
 
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 ♦ 
 
74 
 
 The latter’s idea of a speaking statue of Doha In<§s in this situa- 
 tion can scarcely be considered original in view of other points 
 of similarity to Dumas’ incidents, and it is unlikely that it came 
 from any other source than Dumas' version. Naturally it is not to 
 be found in M&rim4e's story with its entirely different ending. 
 Neither could Merim6e have furnished the idea for the hourglass on 
 the supper table in the last act; Dumas' flaming clock, however, 
 could have suggested it, and doubtless did. When Tenorio makes an 
 inquiry about the hourglass, he is told by Don Gonzalo that it is 
 marking the end of his existence, — that for every grain of sand 
 that falls in the glass a moment of his life passes away. When 
 Marana is given an hour in which to repent, a clock outlined in 
 flame marks the passage of the minutes, but the spirits of his vic- 
 tims turn the hands ahead at will, just as Sister Martha stops 
 them one second before the expiration of the time in order to give 
 him a chance to complete his repentance after he has made the de- 
 cision. 
 
 In the play of Zorrilla, Don Juan suddenly hears a bell 
 tolling while Don Gonzalo is telling him of the future life to be 
 spent in ashes and fire, and upon asking the reason, he learns 
 that it is tolling for him. Shortly afterwards the funeral pro- 
 cession passes the back of the stage and Don Juan see it. Dumas 
 has not used this incident, although it is prominent in the con- 
 version of Mlrim^e's Don Juan. It does not, however, originate 
 with Merimee, and there was plenty of opportunity for Zorrilla to 
 have found it without going outside of Spanish literature. As 
 early as 1570 Antonio Torquemada's Jardin de flores curiosas con- 
 
 tained such an incident, and it appeared about the same time (1572) 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 I 
 
 
 
75 
 
 in a poem by Crist6bal Bravo. It later became associated with 
 the Don Juan legend, but the Mahara legend was not the first to 
 combine the two ideas of a dissolute man and the witnessing of his 
 own funeral. This had been done early in the seventeenth century 
 in El Niflo diablo , a manuscript in the Osuna library, sometimes at- 
 tributed to Lope, but probably not his, according to Said Armesto 
 (p. 196). With slight difference in details, the idea is used in 
 an early ballad entitled Lisardo el estudlante de C6rdoba and in 
 Cristdbal Lozano's Soledades de la vida y desengahos del mundo 
 (1658). Lope de Vega, in El Yaso de eleccidn . represents Paul as 
 seeing his own funeral on the road to Damascus. 
 
 I think the case against Zorrilla has been proved. He 
 undoubtedly knew more of the Don Juan literature as a young man 
 than he remembered as an old man, or cared to admit, for some in- 
 explicable reason or other. As we have seen, opinions differ 
 slightly as to where he obtained many of his ideas. All, however, 
 recognize Dumas' influence, and I am inclined to believe that we 
 need go no further. Most of Merimee's ideas were incorporated in 
 Dumas' "mosai’que insensle”® 5 and those which appear in Zorrilla 
 and not in Dumas have been available to the former in older Span- 
 ish plays, as for instance, witnessing his own funeral, and lead- 
 ing a prospective victim to believe he is her lover. 
 
 Whatever may be said about its originality, the Tenor io 
 has long been, and still is, extraordinarily popular — the most 
 popular drama in nineteenth century Spain. Alonso Cortls writes 
 (p. 441) that "there probably is in Spain some one who has not 
 heard of Cervantes, but the ingenious Manchegan nobleman is famil- 
 iar to all; there may be some one who knows nothing of Zorrilla, 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 > ;lr l ]| 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 . 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
76 
 
 but no one will fail to know the high-spirited young man from Se- 
 ville". Elsewhere (p. 438) he says, "There is no work about which 
 more anecdotes are told; it has continuously been the object of a 
 thousand parodies,®^ some of them very witty, and it has appeared 
 more than once on foreign stages, where it has been applauded".* 
 its immense popularity has not kept it from being adversely criti- 
 cised; or perhaps it might be better to say that its popularity 
 came in the face of adverse criticism. Alonso Cortes quotes in 
 full (pp. 414-18) a criticism published in El L abe rinto of April 
 16, 1844, when the play had still to gain its place in popular es- 
 teem. Apparently it was not well received in spite of the excel- 
 lent work of Latorre's company. El La b erinto criticises the di- 
 vision into two parts, neither of which could be used separately 
 as is the case in certain other plays, such as Zorrilla's own El 
 Zapater o y el rev , which is really two plays on the same subject. 
 The word "religicso" in the title is called inexact, and the chang- 
 ing of Tirso's Don Juan "lo mas minimo" is considered rash. The 
 "ovillejos" of the second act are censured as the meter "de peor 
 gusto que ha podido inventarse" and as being especially bad on the 
 stage. The murder of Don Gonzalo and the underhand treatment of 
 Don Luis are criticised as unnecessarily defaming the character of 
 Don Juan. Zorrilla is charged with allowing his "denouement" to 
 
 *0n page 441, Alonso Cortes gives this information: It 
 
 has been twice translated into French, once by Achilie Fouquier, 
 in the Revue Britanniqu e, 1882, and again by Henri de Curzon. 
 
 Wilde adapted it in Germany in 1850, and Fastenrath translated it 
 in 1899. Mrs. Cunninghame Graham worked it over under the title 
 of Don Ju an*s Last Be t, which was produced in London in 1900. 
 
 There are two Italian translations. The first was made by Vin- 
 cenzo Giordanno-Zocchi . A later one was made by Giulio da Frenzi 
 (the pseudonym of Luis Federzoni) and Faustc Maria Martini. 
 
 \ 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
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 1 . • . 
 
 * 
 
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77 
 
 degenerate into mere "magic lantern play" (p. 416), and with lack 
 of observance of the proper steps in the too easy and too hasty 
 conversion of Don Juan. Alonso Cortes himself criticises the de- 
 velopment of real love in Don Juan as too rapid. Of the pistol 
 shot which ends the life of Don Gonzalo, he says (p. 431), "Lasti- 
 ma que el poeta tuviese el desacierto de idear que D. Juan, para 
 deshacerse del Comendador, se valga de medio tan poco noble 
 como el de soltarle un pistoletazo" . Revilla criticises the trick- 
 ery practiced upon Dona Ines.^ And so one might go on enumera- 
 ting flaws that have been found in the play, for they are indeed 
 numerous . 
 
 No one has spoken more harshly of it than Zorrilla him- 
 self. In a letter dated February 1, 1871, he writes of it as the 
 "greatest nonsense .that has ever been written; it has no common 
 sense, whether considered in a literary, moral, or religious 
 light." Six years later (in a letter dated March 23, 1877) he 
 wrote, "I am correcting the Don Juan because it is an absurd thing, 
 the responsibility for which I do not want to be burdened with at 
 my death". In the Recuerdos (Vol. II, p. 89), he speaks of the 
 writing of it as a misfortune; again (Vol. I, p. 175), as some- 
 thing he did without knowing what he was doing. He insists upon 
 his right to criticise it without the public's feeling insulted; 
 his criticism is not ingratitude, but modesty. Moreover, it is 
 not made with any feeling of bitterness, nor with any desire to 
 discomfit his editors, the printers, or the actors, since, although 
 the rights of the work do not belong to him, nevertheless he gets 
 more than any of them do — fame and the love of Spanish-speaking 
 people; but he has had a long time to observe the play and to see 
 
. 
 
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 * 
 
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 . 
 
 
 
 
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78 
 
 what there is in it that is bad. He would be more than glad to 
 
 . j 
 
 transfer to any envious person the authorship of the play in order 
 
 that the latter might enjoy in his place the consequences of having 
 
 written it. 
 
 On the other hand, the play has had its share of praise 
 as well. Critics are agreed that its versification is one of its 
 outstanding good qualities. Another is the ease and naturalness 
 of the dialogue, while a third is the very great effect of many of 
 the scenes, notably in the first and fourth acts. Zorrilla, too, 
 had some words of praise to offset the modesty of his adverse 
 judgment. He admits that his work "has an excellence that will 
 make it last on the stage for a long time, a tutelary genius on 
 the wings of which it will soar above the rest of the Tenorios". 
 
 He was most proud of having created the character of Doha Ines. 
 
 The applause that his protagonist received seemed to him like that 
 which every family gives to its badly spoiled child, and he accept- 
 ed it as such. But he felt sure that Doha Ines gained wider and 
 less partial appreciation. 
 
 In spite of the fact that he said he received from the 
 popularity of the play more than the printers, actors, and others, 
 that is, fame and the love of the Spanish people, there is a note 
 of bitterness in his references to his own lack of money. He as- 
 serts more than once that his play supports, in a few weeks of the 
 year, all the theatres in Spain and Spanish America, and in con- 
 trast, he admits that he is in need of alms. He asks, "Is it just 
 that he who supports so many should die in an infirmary or an in- 
 sane asylum becaused he produced his Don Juan before the copyright 
 laws existed?” He was later granted government aid, but not early 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 * 
 
 
79 
 
 enough to keep his later years from being embittered. He disavows 
 it, but it is not improbable that his financial difficulties 
 prompted his tamperings with the original text of the Don Juan . He 
 worked it over to a certain extent in the autumn of 1866, just 
 after his return from an absence of more than fifteen years in for- 
 eign lands. It was presented at a ceremony held in his honor at 
 the Teatro del Principe the last of October, and was well received, 
 continuing regularly before overflowing houses for ten days and at 
 intervals for two months mere. 70 Nearly a dozen years later he 
 attempted another change in it, this time radical. Ramirez Angel 
 suggests (p. 155) that the reason may be found in a desire, "tan 
 l6gico aun en todo el que se sobrevive", to continue living, and 
 asks that Zorrilla's mistake in regard to the necessity be respect- 
 ed. He quotes from La Esfer a of later date, which said that Zo- 
 rrilla wanted to supplant his Don Juan with another turned into a 
 "zarzuela", and complained that not only did he profane his own 
 work by allowing music to be substituted for some of the scenes, 
 but he even amended several passages of his immortal creation. He 
 wanted to take away from his Don Juan some of his former vigor, to 
 soften certain of the foolhardy undertakings of the legendary ad- 
 venturer, and to find fault with his own lines, which do now and 
 always will stand out as some of the best in the Spanish language. 
 It was a bold undertaking; the "zarzuela" failed, and the drama in 
 seven acts overcame the "improvement" made by the drama's very au- 
 thor, who was "justly pitied because the income it produced was 
 enriching the editor" instead of the author. 
 
 it might be thought that he had said enough about his 
 play in the Recuerdos , but he tells us that he is not ready to ex- 
 
. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 , 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 • 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 TO 
 
 . ' 
 
 
80 
 
 press himself fully about it, but that he intends to do so in a 
 book to be entitled Don Juan Tenorio ant e la conclen cla de su au - 
 tor and to be published at the end of some October so that it will 
 be fresh in the minds of those who go to see the Don Juan in No- 
 vember. This evidently never appeared, but if it had done so, it 
 would doubtless "have sought only to put forth his right and duty 
 to be modest, to confess his defects and faults, so that no one at 
 any time should have any reason to believe that he lived in a pea- 
 cock's pride or dreamed of himself when he slept". 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
VIII. MINOR PLAYS AND POEMS 
 
 Professor Waxman, in his study of the Don Juan litera- 
 ture (pp. 202-4), gives a chronological list of ninety-eight Don 
 Juan versions, with their authors, beginning with Cueva's Infama - 
 dor (1581) and ending with Bernard Shaw's Man and Superman (1903). 
 The date of the appearance of Professor Waxman' s article alone pre- 
 vented this list from extending to 1920, in December of which year 
 there appeared in Paris a play on this subject by M. Henry Bataille, 
 entitled L'homme a la rose .^ The ninety-eight titles given by 
 Professor Waxman include plays, operas, ballets, farces, operas 
 bouffe, comic operas, short stories, poems, novels, and vaudeville, 
 in half a dozen or more languages. This number seems large, but 
 it by no means includes all literary works that might properly be 
 included. Indeed, it contains only titles with something of a rep- 
 utation; it would be all but impossible to catalogue the innumer- 
 able expressions of a more ephemeral nature. Simply a list of 
 those appearing; in Spanish (with which we are alone concerned) 
 would be formidable and by no means easy to arrange, partly be- 
 cause of the difficulty that would be encountered in deciding in 
 some cases whether the piece really belonged in the category of 
 Dpn Juan versions, and partly because "raro es el ano que en el 
 mes de Noviembre no surge algun poeta satfrico que toma pie de 
 aquel asunto para dar salida a su humor maleante" . ^ 
 
 Very few Spanish literary selections of any "genre" ex- 
 cept the plays already considered have assumed much importance. 
 
 81 _ _____ 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
Farinelli mentions 73 a parody of Zorrilla's play by Mariano Pina 
 (whom he misnames Mariano Rico), which he calls Tenor lo, Juan el 
 perdfo (1848), and which he deems superior to the original. The 
 title of the play, as published in Madrid in 1899, is Juan el per- 
 dfo. Parodia de la primera parte d e Don Juan Tenorio, original y 
 en verso . It is concerned, we notice, only with the first part of 
 Zorrilla's piece. I have seen no other expression of opinion as 
 to its merit. There are, besides this one, numerous other paro- 
 dies of the Tenorio . Cotarelo names a few of them. Among the old- 
 est and best received was Don Juan Trapisonda , which was written 
 and presented by the actor and playwright Don Juan de Alba, in 
 1850. Another witty parody was that by Salvador Maria Grants en- 
 titled Juanito Tenorio (1886). Don Pablo Parellada produced an 
 original and very clever piece called Tenorio modernista . in 1906. 
 Alonso Cortes attributes to this sane writer a piece called Teno- 
 rio musical . Others mentioned by Alonso Cortes are E l Novio de 
 Doha In£s by Javier de Burgos, Tenorio y Me.ifa by Leandro Torrome, 
 Doha Juana Tenorio by Rafael Marfa Liern, Tenorio feminista by Pa- 
 so, Servet, Valdiva y Lle6, Tenorio politico by Segundo Cernuda, 
 
 El Audaz Don Juan Tenorio by Antonio Careta Vidal, and Don Juan 
 Tenorio by Jaime Piquet. 
 
 Barbosa Machado, Barrera, Garcia Perez, and Thedphilo 
 Braga, all cite a play entitled No hav plazo qua no llegue ni deu- 
 da cue no se pag ue , said to have been written by the Portuguese 
 Jacinto Cordero, who wrote in Spanish. Braga states that the play 
 was printed in 1667. Cotarelo is of the opinion that such a play 
 never existed. He thinks that Barbosa confused Zamora's piece 
 with something written by Cordero, and that the other two Spaniards 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
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 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 , 
 
 * 
 
83 
 
 copied his statement without verifying the information. As to Bra- 
 ga’s statement, Cotarelo says, "es sabido el poco caso que hay que 
 hacer de este prolifieo y novelesco historiador " If Cordero 
 wrote such a play, it doubtless followed the Bur lador more or less 
 closely. All the plays we have considered in the earlier chapters 
 have done so, and, subject to the limitations of parodies, it is 
 to be assumed that those mentioned earlier in this chapter have a 
 direct relationship with the legend in its original form, even 
 though they probably do not cover the sarnie ground, nor in the same 
 manner . 
 
 We now come to a play by L6pez de Ayala, which has a 
 much wider reputation than any of the parodies mentioned above. 
 
 The title of this play is El Nuevo Don Juan (1863), but, were it 
 not for the title, it is doubtful if even the name of the protago- 
 nist (which is Juan, but not Tenorio) would recall the traditional 
 legend to the mind of the reader. This Don Juan is a bold, in- 
 triguing, cynical idler of Madrid, who takes a fancy to, and seeks 
 to dishonor, the wife of an acquaintance. He is outwitted, ridi- 
 culed, and driven away. He bears scarcely any resemblance to Tir- 
 so's Don Juan, and the play is still more unlike El Burlador . The 
 new character Don Juan, as well as the play itself, is in a dif- 
 ferent category from the old. 
 
 The Don Juan subject has been handled in novel form al- 
 so. None of the novels has assumed much importance, however. Ma- 
 nuel Fernandez y Gonzalez has treated the subject in three prose 
 works: namely, Los Tenorios de hoy , Don Migruel de Manara , and Don 
 
 Juan Tenorio . The second deals with the legend Merimee made use 
 of, or a very similar one, but Fernandez has added much and changed 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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84 
 
 more. The last named book I have not seen. It is called a "volu- 
 minous romantic novel" and presumably deals with the original leg- 
 end, though writers who mention it do not state how closely it 
 follows the Burlador , if at all. 
 
 Three Spanish poets have put the legend, in some aspect 
 or other, into non-dramatic verse. Espronceda, in 1840, wrote El 
 Estudiante de Salamanca . About twenty years later Campoamor wrote 
 a poem entitled Don Juan . Still later Zorrilla wrote several 
 short poems based on the legend. Of these poems, Espronceda' s has 
 become best known. It is for the most part a lyrical poem, but 
 dialogue is introduced in several places. A striking feature of 
 the poem is the great variety of versification used in it. Waxman 
 says (p. 200) that it embraces "every form of poetry conceivable", 
 and elsewhere he says it is one of Espronceda' s masterpieces. It 
 does not treat the whole legend, but on the other hand adds cer- 
 tain episodes that do not occur in the Burlador . The setting is 
 entirely original, and except for the character of the protagonist, 
 whose name becomes Felix de Montemar, and his comparison with Don 
 Juan Tenorio, there is little in common between the Burlador of 
 Tirso and the Estudiante of Espronceda. Don Felix deceives Elvi- 
 ra, who dies of grief. When her brother comes to avenge her dis- 
 honor, Felix kills him. Then, as Felix leaves the scene of the 
 duel, he is attracted by a white-robed figure, which he follows 
 through all sorts of supernatural situations, finally coming to an- 
 other world. Upon arriving there he is proclaimed the husband of 
 the white-robed figure, which proves to be Elvira. He snatches 
 off the robe and discovers a glaring skeleton, which embraces him 
 and puts an end to his life. ... Dawn lighted up a new day, which 
 

 
 
 
 H k 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
85 
 
 dispelled the shadows and chimerical women, but some of the people 
 returned to their tasks with dread in their hearts, for in the 
 guise of a woman in a mysterious white robe, 
 
 "Aquella noche el diablo a Salamanca 
 Habia, en fin, por Montemar venido!!" 
 
 The hero is ruthless and fiendish and is called in the poem a "se- 
 gundo Don Juan Tenor io". It is Revilla’s opinion that this char- 
 acterization is justified, and that Espronceda has succeeded bet- 
 ter than others in keeping the character of the original Don Juan, 
 at the same time, however, "dandole proporciones tales que exceden 
 los lfmites de lo humano y despojandole de toda realidad" ( Obras , 
 p. 456). Farinelli remarks 75 that Felix has all of Don Juan’s au- 
 dacity, insolence, and perversity, and somewhat more in addition. 
 Waxman thinks the poem "ranks second only to Tirso's Burlador in 
 its powerful portrayal of Don Juan". He adds, "It is refreshing 
 to meet again in this poem the Don Juan of old, the Don Juan of 
 Tirso, the fearless and daring libertine". 
 
 Farinelli calls Campoamor 1 s Don Juan a "bizzarra fanta- 
 sia" which might well have been entitled The Death and Salvation 
 of a Fugitive from Passion (p. 322). It reminds him of Hoffmann, 
 Musset, and Heine, and seems to him to be more irony and sarcasm 
 than poetry. It consists of two cantos, the first being entitled 
 "Women on Earth", and the second, "Women in Heaven". The first 
 canto is supposed to be a continuation of Byron's Don Juan , and 
 pictures the hero as growing old, diseased, and near death's door, 
 the victim of his excesses. In this condition, he examines the 
 "sea of passions within himself" and drifts into repentance. This 
 leads him to write to former sweethearts, asking forgiveness for 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 *. ' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
86 
 
 the sorrows he has caused them. These sweethearts number five, 
 each one being of a different nationality. One of them comes to 
 comfort him, and although he tries to flee from her, she pursues 
 him, and kills him with kisses and caresses, — sheer love. The 
 second canto depicts a scene in the vestibule of heaven (and not 
 heaven itself, as Waxman says). Here Don Juan is obliged to under 
 go the reproaches of his victims before the Supreme Judge. Al- 
 though he has repented, one other thing is necessary to effect his 
 salvation from eternal damnation, — namely, the sacrifice of a 
 former sweetheart. His Spanish flame, who loved him on earth de- 
 spite his wickedness, alone is willing to make the sacrifice. She 
 casts herself down among the demons, and Don Juan ascends trium- 
 phantly to his place among the saved in heaven. Emilio Soulere? 5 
 speaking of the poem as a whole, says, "a more pert satire against 
 the moral sense of the human race than is Byron's Don Juan could 
 not have been made, nor could that character be ridiculed with 
 more originality than Campoamor has shown". Revilla, likewise a 
 Spanish critic, says, on the other hand, that Campoamor' s Don Juan 
 is a "figura insignif icante y puramente decorativa" (p. 456). 
 
 Besides the play Don Juan Tenorio , which we have already 
 considered, Zorrilla also wrote several shorter poems touching up- 
 on some phase or other of the legend. In fact, as Picatoste says 
 (p. 179), "No poet has written so much about Don Juan Tenorio as 
 Zorrilla". Some of his poems are: El Capitan Montoya , Margarita 
 la tornera , El Testigo de bronce , and El Desaffo del diablo . His 
 long poem entitled La Lev enda de Don Juan has no connection with 
 our phase of the legend. Of these Don Juan poems by Zorrilla, Fa- 
 rinelli says (p. 321) that they far surpass the play. His reason 
 
: 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
87 
 
 il 
 
 for thinking so is that they are unrestrainedly lyrical, while the 
 play was subject to dramatic restrictions to a certain degree. 
 
 Margari ta la torn e ra is the most popular. It is the sto- 
 ry of a gentle convent girl, who fell in love with "the most ex- 
 pert seducer of women and girls". She was prevailed upon to leave 
 her convent. Of course, she was deceived, betrayed, and abandoned. 
 Later she returned to the convent and discovered that the Virgin 
 had taken her place as "tornera" during her absence.* Don Juan 
 emerges from the adventure unscathed; indeed, there is a second 
 part of the poem, of later date, which takes him to Italy to con- 
 tinue his licentiousness. 
 
 El Capitan Montoya relates only one adventure. It is 
 the very old one which Merimee also told in his Les Ames du pur - 
 gatoire , — namely, that of going to a rendezvous with a convent 
 girl and finding the church occupied by those who were conduct- 
 ing his own funeral ceremony. 
 
 There are other poems — many others — which might be 
 mentioned in .considering the Don Juan legend in Spanish literature. 
 Some of these omitted may have a closer relationship with our leg- 
 
 *This conception is very old in Spanish literature. 
 Several of the "cantigas" of Alfonso el Sabio (at least six: 7, 
 
 55, 58, 59, 94, 285) deal with the flight of erring nuns from con- 
 vents. In two of these cases, the Virgin befriends the repentant 
 girl. Number 55 tells of a very fervent devotee of the Virgin, 
 who returned from her disillusionment "enceinte". The Virgin mi- 
 raculously caused, not only her condition, but also her absence, 
 to go unnoticed, besides this, the Virgin saw to the rearing, 
 apart from the mother, of the child which was born of that sacri- 
 legious love. Cantiga 94 is still more like Zorrilla's legend. 
 
 It tells of the dereliction of a certain "tesorera", who found up- 
 on her return that the Virgin had been performing her duties for 
 her, and that her absence had not been noticed. (See the Marques 
 de Valmar's Estudio sobre las canti g as de D. Al fonso el Sabio , 2nd. 
 ed., Madrid, 1897, pp. 106-109, esp. p. 108.) 
 
. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 - 
 
88 
 
 end than some of those named, but none of the ramifications of the 
 "literatura tenoriana" follows the traditional model closely, and 
 I have selected for mention those which are best known, and most 
 frequently referred to when the legend is being considered. The 
 legend in its first form is a dramatic subject, and only in that 
 "genre” apparently can it be treated in its totality with any de- 
 gree of faithfulness to the original model. Moreover, most of the 
 poems of shorter length were written under the influences of Ro- 
 manticism, which necessitated, it seems, as bizarre characters and 
 situations as could be worked up by a taste for the mystic and the 
 exotic. This has, by no means, of course, been kept out of the 
 drama, but in Spain only one drama of importance was produced in 
 the heyday of Romanticism; and, if we disregard, as we well may, 
 Lopez de Ayala's Nuevo Don Juan, it has been the only one in the 
 last two centuries. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 
 ' . 
 
 . 
 
IX. CONCLUSION 
 
 As we have examined the Spanish Don Juan plays, in chron- 
 ological order as nearly as this order can be determined, it has 
 been evident that there have been great changes from the original. 
 The character of the protagonist, no less than the kind of retri- 
 bution he suffers for his waywardness, has kept pace with the so- 
 cial development in the march of the centuries. Tirso's Don Juan 
 was a bold, hot-headed, sensual, incorrigible young nobleman with 
 no capacity for love, but merely the possession of immoderate in- 
 stincts. He was without a virtue, unless his bravery, which he 
 carried to the point of foolhardiness, might be so considered; — 
 or his somewhat artificial and excessive "pundonor caballeresco" , 
 which really amounted to arrogance. It must be said for him (and 
 for Tirso), however, that he was not an atheist or an infidel. He 
 did not disbelieve the existence of a supreme being, or "post mor- 
 tem" punishment of sins; in his heedless pursuit of worldly pleas- 
 ure, he simply ignored spiritual matters. He left uncommitted 
 most of the cowardly acts and vile deeds of modern Don Juans. He 
 was no assassin, such as Zorrilla's character, nor such a braggart. 
 He was not such a knave as Zamora's detestable and cowardly trick- 
 ster. He killed, yes, but only in fair combat. He challenged a 
 statue, but through indignation at the epithet of "traitor" rather 
 than because of any boastful bravado. With all his many "aborre- 
 cibles defectos", he has certain qualities that make him (although 
 somewhat improbable) "mas noble y caballero que todos los demas". 
 
 83 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
90 
 
 according to Revilla (p. 438). 
 
 In this character, Tirso typified the "violent expansion 
 of sensuality playing with the rules imposed upon human passions 
 hy morale and religion". 77 This outburst was not new in the sev- 
 enteenth century; it merely remained for such a one as the "fraile 
 mercenario", with his knowledge of evil (gained through the con- 
 fessional, as some would have it, or in a misspent youth, accord- 
 ing to others) and a desire to combat it, to put it into literary 
 form along with that which would point out the moral lesson bear- 
 ing upon it. After Tirso' s model this "expansion of sensuality" 
 becajne in later manifestations a revolt, — a real declaration of 
 rights of the individual against the laws established by the 
 Church and society, — such as in Zorrilla's piece, where Don Juan 
 definitely sets out to seduce a nun, Yfhoever she might be. 
 
 Though Tirso has presented us a reprehensible character, 
 and though he may have painted him in such a way as to cause a 
 suspicion of some sympathy with him, the "denouement" of the play 
 indicates a rigid severity of moral purpose. In spite of the 
 Christian doctrine of eleventh hour repentance, Tirso condemns his 
 procrastinating hero, although he begs forgiveness and calls for a 
 confessor. Cdrdoba has his Don Juan summarily dragged down to 
 hell before he weakens enough to realize that his last hour has 
 come; this Don Juan, therefore, makes no appeal for clemency. His 
 end cuts short on his lips a boast that he will yet possess Doha 
 Ana. These were both in the seventeenth century. In the eighteen- 
 th century, Zamora left the fate of his despicable brawler in 
 doubt. In the nineteenth century, Zorrilla "opened the gates of 
 glory" for his gambler on women's honor. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 Li’f-s 
 
91 
 
 Cdrdoba's character, close to Tirso' s in point of time, 
 was changed considerably, but not to the same degree nor in the 
 same manner as later ones. La Ven g anza deals with only one epi- 
 sode of the hero's amorous adventures, but presents him in several 
 combats, and has him tell of others, in all of which he accomplish- 
 es stupendous feats. He has as much (if not more) taste for fight- 
 ing as for love-making. He is not the suave gentleman of seduc- 
 tive charm that Tirso painted; he is a corner bully, nothing more 
 nor less. 
 
 Zamora's character, who seems to have been saved, was a 
 coarse, vulgar "rufian", whose language was entirely unsuited to 
 his station — that of a Sevillian nobleman. Revilla thinks that 
 Zamora's play is the most wretched of all imitations of Tirso' s 
 Burlador, in spite of the fact that its author tried to follow the 
 original closely. He deprived his protagonist of every noble sen- 
 timent, made him impudent and cynical in the extreme, and had him 
 do evil without any need — even for furthering his pleasures. 
 
 After every kind of braggadocio, this eighteenth century Don Juan 
 showed himself an utter coward at the end. Filled with terror and 
 anguish he fell at the feet of the Comendador and begged for mer- 
 cy, "which he apparently received, to the moral hurt of the play "? 8 
 
 In the next century, Zorrilla falsified the original Don 
 Juan completely; — or perhaps we might lay this at Dumas' door. 
 When Don Juan crossed the Spanish frontier at the beginning of his 
 world travels, he became a foreigner, because, being typically 
 Spanish, he could not otherwise be fully understood where he went. 
 He became a character "que, al volver a su patria, los espaSoles 
 le tendrfan por extraho ". 79 He did return to his native land, and 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ( '• 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
92 
 
 he was no longer the typically Spanish character that Tirso creat- 
 ed. In fact, says Revilla, he is no longer a character at all. 
 
 He is a strange composite of inexplicable contradictions in which 
 there is only one steady quality, namely, bravado. In the first 
 act he is a bold profligate, in the second an underhanded traitor, 
 and then in turn a passionate and tender lover, an assassin, and 
 then the weak-willed and craven fugitive who abandons the girl he 
 professes to love. "From a generous and noble spirit, he becomes 
 a contemptible rufian". 80 
 
 Zorrilla's composite of Spanish, French, and German Don 
 Juans represents what Gendarme de Bevotte calls a different "don- 
 juanisme". From the material manifestation it becomes ideal, and 
 sometimes metaphysical. The break comes quite suddenly. Up to 
 the nineteenth century, Tirso was followed more or less closely, 
 depending to some extent upon the ability of the writer to inter- 
 pret Tirso' s character. In many cases no new situations had been 
 introduced. This was true especially of the Italian imitations, 
 some of which were mere translations. It was true also, to a high 
 degree, of the French productions, which were largely close imita- 
 tions of the Italian versions. The great change in the treatment 
 of the old legend came with the Romantic movement in literature. 
 Most of the change took place outside of Spanish literature, but 
 was summarized, as it were, in Spain, in Zorrilla's play. This 
 latter, however, still retains much similarity to the original 
 form, and it is in the poems that we find most change. It is, for 
 the most part, to such material as these poems, and those in other 
 languages, and also to such plays as L6pez de Ayala's Nuevo Don 
 
 Juan, that Farinelli refers when he writes as follows: 81 
 

 
 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 - 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
93 
 
 "The Don Juan of modern times is only a pale reflec- 
 tion of the hero of the old legend; he recalls the old only 
 in name, so much has his aspect changed, so weakened and un- 
 recognizable has he become. ... Romanticism stamped him with 
 its fantastic and sentimental whims, with its sighs and lamen- 
 tations by moonlight, with the fantastic, the gloomy, and the 
 mystic. ... More recent philosophical and speculative "elocu- 
 brazioni" have robbed him of every Don Juan ardor, and have 
 made him old and pedantic. ... The legendary Don Juan was a 
 dramatic figure; now he is lyric, almost elegiac. Once he 
 was a man of action, of instinct; now he is irresolute, re- 
 flective, meditative. Like a butterfly that flits from flow- 
 er to flower, he went from pleasure to pleasure; now pleasure 
 is the fountain of ills, of disgust; he does not know to what 
 cup to place his lips, for every liquor seems bitter, even 
 poisonous . " 
 
 After several pages of indictment against the new Don 
 Juan, who has lost his vigor and is capable only of petty emotions 
 and ineffectual reactions thereto, Farinelli asks with consider- 
 able sarcasm, "Perche non lo chiameremo San Don Giovanni?" 
 
 This great change, while not exactly gradual, required a 
 long period of time in its evolution, and indirectly bears witness 
 to the wide diffusion of the subject. This remarkable and appar- 
 ently increasing popularity naturally gives rise to consideration 
 of the reasons for such diffusion. Gendarme de B^votte advances 
 three reasons: first, human interest in the supernatural element; 
 second, the universal value of the moral, and its easy adaptation 
 to time and country; and third, the character of the hero, in whom 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ... . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
94 
 
 it has been possible to incarnate different ages. In a somewhat 
 pessimistic vein. Pi y Margall explains it thus: "The crowds like 
 to see, at least on the stage, courageous souls, now that in real 
 life one scarcely ever sees any but wavering and timorous souls, 
 as vicious as that of Don Juan, but whose vices are hidden under 
 the veil of hypocrisy” (p. xxx). 
 
 The legend received renewed attention from the Romanti- 
 cists, as I have already indicated in the previous chapter. In 
 that school, writers began to write as they lived and thought, and 
 Don Juan ”was a prime favorite with those Romanticists who, like 
 Gautier, felt 'll est indecent et mauvais ton d'etre vertueux ' ”. 82 
 This may account for a part of Don Juan's popularity in a certain 
 epoch, and in certain places, but, for the most part, in Spain it- 
 self, "his libertinage is wholly subsidiary and incidental". On 
 the other hand, "his bravery transcends all known standards, and 
 this one virtue, though it does not save him from hell, redeems 
 him in popular esteem". 8 ^ 
 
 seems to be in human nature something that is attracted by open 
 defection from the ranks of conventionality. Personal liberty is 
 a thing dear to the hearts of all, and he who makes license of 
 personal liberty invariably attracts attention, and, perhaps more 
 often than not, admiration as well. Pi y Margall 's pessimism is 
 not all unfounded; hypocrisy does exist, and perhaps his explana- 
 tion of the popularity of the character who revolts against con- 
 vention is not far wrong. It may be, moreover, that he has said 
 the same thing, in different words and with less show of astute 
 analysis, that Gendarme de Bevotte said. It is certain that Re- 
 
 Whether Romanticists, or Spaniards, or what not, there 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
95 
 
 villa is right in saying (p. 456) that in a country as religious 
 as Spain, an immense vogue would be natural for a "beautiful and 
 grandiose representation of divine justice, before which no hay 
 plazo que no se cumpla ni deuda que no se pague". But that is not 
 all he says. He adds that as a "personification of a certain as- 
 pect of human nature, namely, the will maintaining itself against 
 all law, throwing off every restraint, and yielding only to the 
 hand of God, Tenorio had to become popular in the entire world; 
 and there is no need to say that he would be so in Spain, being an 
 exact reflection of the Spanish race in one of its most character- 
 istic aspects", that is, in its spirit of revolt against restraint. 
 

 V Jt 
 
 , 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 , . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
NOTES 
 
 1. The Loeb Classical Library , New York, 1913. Ch. 69, p. 131. 
 
 2. Don Juan Tenorio . p. 30. 
 
 3. The Don Juan Legrend in Literature , p. 185. 
 
 4. Fitzmaurice-Kelly, Don Juan , in the New Review , p. 513. 
 
 5. Hispania , Vol. Ill (1920), p. 97. 
 
 6. Don Giovanni . in the Giornale storico d ella letteratura ital- 
 
 iana, Vol. XXVII (1896), pp. 1-77, 254-326. 
 
 F. de Simone Brouwer, another Italian, published a 
 somewhat pretentious study three years before Farinelli, but 
 it was entirely too brief to cover the ground it sought to 
 cover. Moreover, it was prepared without suff icient'study of 
 the argument, or of the origin and development of the legend. 
 The author obviously lacked a broad and sure acquaintance 
 with foreign literatures dealing with the legend, as well as 
 the ability to form independent judgment. Farinelli himself 
 ungraciously calls it a " pesimo traba.io of an obscure Neapol- 
 itan writer". The title of the book, which was published" in 
 Naples in 1894, is Don Giovanni nella poesia e nell 1 arte mu- 
 sicals . 
 
 7 . Cuatro palabras sobre Don Juan v la literatura don.iuanesca . in 
 
 Homena.ie a Men^ndez y Pelayo , Vol. I , p. 205. 
 
 8. La Legende de Don Juan . Paris, 1906. 
 
 9. La Levenda de Don Juan . Madrid, 1908. 
 
 10 . The Don Juan Legend in Li terature, in the Journal of American 
 
 Folk-Lore , Vol, XXI, 1908. 
 
 11. The writer of this article is Professor Benjamin 7/. 7/ells. 
 
 12. Discurso preliminar to Comedias de Tirso de Molina . Vol. I, p. 
 
 v . (In Nueva Bib, de Aut . Esp. , Vol. IV. ) 
 
 13. Quoted by Said Armesto, op. cit . , p. 83, note 1. 
 
 14. Gendarme de Bevotte, La Legende de Don Juan , p. 22. 
 
 15. Gendarme de Bevotte, ibid . , p. 25. 
 
 16. Said Armesto, op. cit., p. 92. 
 96 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 • . 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 .. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 . 
 
 
 . 
 
97 
 
 17. Said Armesto, op . c i t . . p. 97. 
 
 18. Said Armesto, op. ci t. , p. 123. 
 
 19. Op. cl t. t p. 179. 
 
 20. Op. cit . , pp. 191-202. 
 
 21. The passage in question is quoted by Said Armesto, op. cit . . 
 
 pp. 228-9. 
 
 22. Waxman, op. ci t . , p. 197. 
 
 23. Les Ames du purgatoir e, p. 297. 
 
 24. He expresses this opinion in his article entitled Don Giovanni . 
 
 25. Catalogo razonado de l teatro de Tir so de Molina, in the Nueva 
 
 Bib liot ec a de A utores Espaholes , Vol. IX, p. viii. 
 
 26* Tirs o de Molin a. Confere ncia, p. 25. 
 
 27. Don Juan , in the Encyclopaedia Britannica , Vol. VIII, p. 416. 
 
 28. Aristotle (b. 384 B.C.) mentions in his Poetica (Ch. IX. Di- 
 
 dot's Greek and Latin edition, Paris, 1848, Vol. I, p. 465) 
 the story of Mitios, of Argos, whose statue avenged him upon 
 his murderer by crushing him to death (English translation of 
 Thomas Twining, second edition, 2 vols. London, 1812, Vol. I, 
 p. 130). Plutarch (50 A.D. ) tells a similar story ( Scripta 
 Moralia : De sera num i nis vindiota , Ch. VIII. Didot's Greek 
 and Latin edition, Paris, 1856, Vol. I, p. 669. English 
 translation, Plutarch's Morals , by W. W. Goodwin, Boston, Lit- 
 tle, Brown and Co., 1871, Vol. IV, p. 153). Pausanias (late 
 second century A.D.) keeps the tale alive in his De script io 
 Graeciae (Edition by Schubart and Walz, London and Leipzig, 
 1838, Vol. II, p. 397. Book VI, Elis, Chap. XI, sec. 2. Eng- 
 lish translation by J. G. Frazer, London, Macmillan. 1898, 
 
 Vol, I, p. 299). He writes thus about one Theagenes: "When 
 he departed this world, one of the men who had been at enmi- 
 ty with him in his life came every night to the statue of 
 Theagenes, and whipped the bronze figure as if he were mis- 
 treating Theagenes himself. The statue checked his insolence 
 by falling on him, but the son of the deceased prosecuted the 
 statue for murder. The Thasians sunk the statue in the sea." 
 Said Armesto quotes (p. 103, note) from the works of Suidas 
 970 A.D.), which contain a similar tale about one Nic6n, an 
 athlete of Thasos, 
 
 29. Estudios de crftica literaria , 2a. serie, p. 188. 
 
 30. Espaha Moderna . June, 1889, p. 149. 
 
 31. La Legende de Don Juan , pp. 14 ss. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 
 ' 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 
98 
 
 32. Picatoste, op. cl t . , p. 107. 
 
 33. Cf. p. v of the "Adver tencia" to the edition of the Tan largo 
 
 in the Colec ci(5n de lib ros espanoles raros o curiosos, Vol. - 
 
 xn. ' 
 
 34. Catal o go razonado , p. vii. 
 
 35. Com edias de Tirso de Molina . Vol. II, p, 623. 
 
 36. Consult Fitzraaurice-Kelly * s Lope de Vega and the Spanis h Dr ama 
 
 (pp. 55-57, esp. p. 57), where may be found a list of Cal- 
 deron's borrowings from Lope. 
 
 37. Waxman, op. ci t . , p. 191. 
 
 38. Cf . Tirso de Molin a (1893), p. 121, and also the Cat. raz. 
 
 (1907*77 p. vii. 
 
 39. Catalo go ra z onado, p. vii, col. 2, 
 
 40. Tirso de Molina , p. 119. 
 
 41. In Tirso de M o lina , p. 119, we read as follows: "y por fin, 
 
 observase que la mania, que asf puede llamarse la tendencia, 
 muchas veces inoportuna, de escribir 'iTan largo me lo fiais?' 
 conduce a justificar el titulo de la obra, mientras que en El 
 Burlador se escribe este verso indistintamente de esa manera, 
 y de esta otra: ' JCue largo me lo fiais'. ', segun lo requiere 
 el sentido." 
 
 42. Homena.ie a Menendez y Pe layo , Vol. I, p. 265. 
 
 43. Comedias d e Tirso de Molina , in the Nueva Bib. de Aut. Esp. . 
 
 Vol. IX, pp. 683-708. ' 
 
 44. Dramaticos poster lores a Lop e de Vep-a. Vol. II, p. xix. 
 
 45. Quoted in Picatoste, op. cit ♦ , p. 134. 
 
 46. Histor y, 0 f Spanish Literature . 4th edition, Vol. II, p. 511. 
 
 47. 
 
 Op . 
 
 cit., Vol 
 
 . V, p. 
 
 • 
 
 00 
 
 Don 
 
 Giovanni , 
 
 p. 70. 
 
 49. 
 
 See 
 
 below, p. 
 
 56. 
 
 50. 
 
 Don 
 
 Giovanni , 
 
 p. 71. 
 
 51 . Ibid. 
 
 52. Zorrilla, su vida v sus obras , p. 405 and elsewhere. 
 
 53 . El Tenor io de Zo rrilla , p. 155. 
 
99 
 
 54. This statement appears in La Grande Encv clop gdle . Vol. XXIV, 
 
 p. 337, under the signature of "G.P-I." The fifth edition 'of 
 the Diccionario enciclopgdioo de la le n gua castellana . Vol. 
 II, p. 341, states that he became a priest "en los ultimos 
 anos de su vida" . Cotarelo's denial may be found in the Ca- 
 talo g o razonado , p. x. 
 
 55. El Tenorio de Zorrilla , p. 155. 
 
 56. Quoted by Ramirez Angel, in Z orrilla . p. 81. 
 
 57 . El Romantlcismo e n Espana , p . 96 . 
 
 58. Revue des deux mondes , August 15, 1834. 
 
 59. This information was conveyed to the writer in a letter dated 
 
 April 6, 1921. 
 
 6 0 . C atal o go razon ado , p . x . 
 
 61. La Leyenda de Don Juan , p. 252. 
 
 62. Don Giovanni , p. 315. 
 
 63. Revue des deux mondes . June 1, 1834. 
 
 64. For quotation, cf. Said Armesto, op . c i t . , pp. 227 ss. 
 
 65. Quoted by Farinelli, in Don Giovanni . from Blaze de Bury's 
 
 Alexandre Dumas, sa vie, son temps, son o euvre, p. 75. 
 
 66. He gives a list, on page 440, of about a dozen titles that he 
 
 remembers . 
 
 67. Quoted by Alonso Cortes, op. oit . , p. 429. 
 
 68. Recuerdos , Vol. I, p. 165. 
 
 69. Recuerdos . Vol. I, pp. iii and vii. 
 
 70. Ramirez Angel, op. cit . . p. 146. 
 
 71. This play was printed in La Petite illustration theatrale of 
 
 January 22, 1921. 
 
 72. Cotarelo y Mori, Catalogo razonado , p. x. 
 
 73. Don Giovanni . p. 320. 
 
 74. Catalogo razonado . p. ix. 
 
 75. Don Giovanni . p. 318. 
 
 76. " Adver t enc ia ” to his edition of the Obras escogidas. Brock— 
 
 haus, Leipzig, 1885, p. x. ' 
 

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 . 
 
 . 
 
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 ' 
 
 ■ 
 
 
77. Gendarme de bevotte, La L ege nde d e Don Juan , p. 3. 
 
 78. Revilla, Obras , p. 445. 
 
 100 
 
 79. Picatoste, op . ci t ♦ , p. 45. 
 
 80. Revilla, Obras , p. 452. 
 
 81. bon Giovanni , p. 292 s. 
 
 82. Northup, op . c i t . . p. xli. 
 
 83. Northup, ibid . 
 
 \ 
 

 
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