Fray Luis de León | Page 3

James Fitzmaurice-Kelly
Vázquez Núñez, _El padre Francisco Zumel,
general de la Merced y catedrático de Salamanca_ (1540-1607), in
_Revista de Archivos, Bibliotecas y Museos_, Tercera época (1918),
vol. XXXVIII, pp. 1-19, 170-190; (1918), vol. XXXIX, pp. 53-67,
237-266; (1919), vol. XL, pp. 447-466, 562-594.
J. F-K.
PS. Had they reached me in time, the following two items would have
been included in the respective sections of the foregoing summary
bibliography: _Poesías originales de Fray Luis de León_, ed. F. de Onís,
San José de Costa Rica, 1920; Ad. Coster, _Notes pour une édition des
poésies de Luis de León_ in the Revue hispanique (1919), vol. XLVI,

pp. 193-248.

I
We are all of us familiar with the process of 'whitewashing' historical
characters. We are past being surprised at finding Tiberius portrayed as
an austere and melancholy recluse, Henry VIII pictured as a pietistic
sentimentalist with a pedantic respect for the letter of the law, and
Napoleon depicted as a romantic idealist, seeking to impose the Social
Contract on an immature, reluctant Europe. Though the 'whitewashing'
method is probably not less paradoxical than the opposite system, it
makes a stronger and wider appeal, inasmuch as it implies a more
amiable attitude towards life, and is more consonant with a flattering
conception of the possibilities of human nature. A prosaic narrative of
established facts does not immediately recommend itself to the average
man. Possibly few have existed who were so good and so great that
they can afford to have the whole truth told about them. At any rate, it
is easier to convey a picturesque general impression than to collect all
the available evidence with the untiring persistence of a model
detective and to present it with the impartial acumen of a competent
judge. Moreover, the inertia of pre-existing opinion has to be overcome.
Once readers have been accustomed to accept as absolutely authentic
an idealized conventional portrait of a man of genius, it is difficult to
induce them to abandon it for a more realistic likeness. In the interest of
historical truth, however, the attempt must be made. We are sometimes
told that 'historical truth can afford to wait'. That may be true; but it has
waited for nearly four centuries, and, if it be divulged in English now,
the revelation lays us open to no reasonable charge of indiscretion or
indecent haste.
It may be that the name of Luis de Leon is comparatively unknown
outside the small group of those who are regarded as specialists. Luis
de Leon is nothing like so famous as Cervantes, as Lope de Vega, as
Tirso de Molina, as Ruiz de Alarcon, and as Calderon, whose names, if
not their works, are familiar to the laity. This is one of chance's unjust
caprices. With the single exception of Cervantes perhaps no figure in
the annals of Spanish literature deserves to be more celebrated than
Luis de Leon. He was great in verse, great in prose, great in mysticism,
great in intellectual force and moral courage. Many may recall him as

the hero of a story--possibly apocryphal--in which he figures as
returning to his professorial chair after an absence of over four years
(passed in the prison-cells of the Inquisition) and beginning his
exordium to his students with the imperturbable remark: 'We were
saying yesterday.' Mainly on this uncertain basis is constructed the
current legend that Luis de Leon was a bloodless philosopher,
incapable of resentment, and, indeed, without a touch of human
weakness in his aloof and lofty nature. His works do not lend colour to
this presentation of the man, nor do the ascertainable details of his
chequered career. The conception of Luis de Leon as a meek spirit, an
unresisting victim of malignant persecution, is not the sole view tenable
of a complex character. However, the recorded facts may be trusted to
speak for themselves.

II
What was Luis de Leon's full name? Was it Luis Ponce de Leon? So it
would appear from the summarized results of P. Mendez printed in the
Revista Agustiniana.[1] The point is not without interest, for Ponce de
Leon is one of the great historic names of Spain. If Luis de Leon was
entitled to use it, he appears not to have exercised his right, for in the
report of his first trial[2] he consistently employs some such simple
formula as:--'El maestro fray Luis de Leon... digo'.[3] The omission of
the name 'Ponce' during proceedings extending over more than four
years can scarcely be accidental. It may, however, have been due to
monastic humility,[4] or to simple prudence: a desire not to provoke
opponents who declared that Luis de Leon had Jewish blood in his
veins.[5] Whether this assertion, a serious one in sixteenth-century
Spain, had any foundation in fact is disputed. It is apparently certain
that
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