The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fray Luis de León, by James Fitzmaurice-Kelly This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: Fray Luis de León A Biographical Fragment Author: James Fitzmaurice-Kelly Release Date: June 29, 2005 [EBook #16148] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRAY LUIS DE LEÓN *** Produced by Stan Goodman, Pilar Somoza and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team

HISPANIC

NOTES & MONOGRAPHS

ESSAYS, STUDIES, AND BRIEF

BIOGRAPHIES ISSUED BY THE

HISPANIC SOCIETY OF AMERICA

I

FRAY LUIS

DE LEON

A Biographical Fragment

BY

JAMES FITZMAURICE KELLY, F.B.A.

With a Portrait from

an engraving after Pacheco

OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

HUMPHREY MILFORD

1921

PRINTED IN ENGLAND

AT THE OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

BY FREDERICK HALL

{v}

PREFACE

This biographical sketch is, in fact, a fragment of a book which will now never come into existence. This particular chapter has been snatched from the burning by an accident. The name of Luis de Leon deservedly ranks as high as that of any poet in the history of Spanish literature; but his reputation as a poet is mostly local, while he is known all the world over as the subject of a dubious anecdote. The attempt is now made to render him more familiar than he has hitherto been to English-speaking people, and to do this, to exhibit the man as he was, it proved necessary to analyse the two volumes of his first trial, the evidence of which is brought together{vi} in vols. X and XI of the Coleccion de Documentos inéditos para la Historia de España. Edited by Miguel Salvá and Pedro Sainz de Baranda, these volumes appeared in 1847; their value is incontestable, but, though they give the evidence as it occurs in the register of the Inquisition, this evidence is not arranged in consistent chronological order, nor is it supplied with an index. The work, printed seventy-three years ago, is not within easy reach of every reader; and of those who have access to it not all are patient enough to read steadily through so large a mass of somewhat incoherent matter. Should any such readers be tempted to examine the record closely, it is hoped that this sketch will do something to make their task easier. An attempt is made here to picture the man as he was, full of fortitude, yet not exempt from human weakness. I trust that I have avoided the temptation to go to the opposite extreme, and lay the blame—as{vii} has been done—for the irregularities of the trial at Luis de Leon's own door.

In dealing with his Spanish poems, I have tried not to put his claims to consideration too high. Laboulaye, in La Liberté religieuse, calls Luis de Leon 'le premier lyrique de l'Europe moderne'. This phrase dates from 1859, and was addressed to a generation which delighted in arranging authors in something like the order of a class list. Though I have the highest opinion of Luis de Leon's genius, I have not felt tempted to follow Laboulaye's example; I have by preference discussed, so far as space allows, such points as the probable chronology of Luis de Leon's poems. Once more I repeat that this is a chapter of a book that will now never be written.

It may be as well to add at this point a few explanatory words concerning the plan of accentuation adopted here. There seems to be no valid reason for applying, in a book primarily intended for English{viii} readers, the modern Academic system to proper names borne in the sixteenth century by men who lived more than three hundred years before the current system was ever invented. Except of course in the case of quotations, that system is applied rigidly only to the names of those who have adopted it formally (as on pp. 114 n. and 191 n.). I have gone on the theory that accents should be sparingly used in a work of this kind, and that, as accents are almost needless for Spaniards they should be employed only when the needs of foreigners compel their use. It is a fundamental rule in Spanish that nearly all words ending in a consonant should be stressed on the last syllable. But since nobody, however slightly acquainted with Spanish, is tempted to pronounce such words as Velazquez (p. 79) or Gomez (p. 250) incorrectly, no graphic accent is employed in such cases. Names ending in s—such as Valbás—are accentuated, however, when the stress falls on the{ix} last syllable: this prevents all possibility of confusion with the pronunciation of ordinary plural forms. Place-names—such as Béjar (p. 58) and Córdoba (p. 184)—are accentuated; so are trisyllables and polysyllables such as Góngora (p. 209) and Zúñiga (p. 57 and elsewhere). It will be seen that, in this matter, I have been guided by strictly utilitarian principles. Inconsistencies are perhaps unavoidable under any system. The plan followed here, while it tends to diminish the total number of accents, probably involves no more inconsistencies than any other. It is based on rational grounds, and is, it may be hoped, less offensive to the eye than the current system. Quotations, I repeat, are reproduced exactly as they stand in the sources from which they profess to be taken.

With these words, I close what I have to say here on this subject and commend these pages to the indulgent judgement of my readers.

{x}The following works, or articles, may be usefully consulted by the student of Spanish.

EDITIONS. LUIS DE LEON: Obras, ed. A. Merino, Madrid, 1804-5-6-16. 6 vols. [reprinted with a preface, by C. Muiños Sáenz, Madrid, 1885, 6 vols.]; Biblioteca de Autores Españoles, vols. XXXV, XXXVII, LIII, LXI, and LXII; De los nombres de Cristo, ed. F. de Onís, Madrid, 1914-1917 [Clásicos castellanos, vols. XXVIII and XXXIII]; La perfecta casada, ed. E. Wallace, Chicago, 1903; La perfecta casada, ed. A. Bonilla y San Martín, Madrid, 1917; El perfecto predicador, ed. C. Muiños Saenz in La Ciudad de Dios (1886), vol. XI, pp. 340-348, 432-447, 527-537; (1886), vol. XII, pp. 15-25, 104-111, 211-218, 322-330, 420-427, 504-512; (1887), vol. XIII, pp. 32-38, 106-114, 213-222, 302-312; (1887), vol. XIV, pp. 9-17, 154-160, 305-315, 449-459, 581-591, 729-743; Exposition del Miserere [facsimile of the Barcelona{xi} ed. of 1632], ed. A.M. Huntington, New York, 1903.

WORKS OF REFERENCE: Proceso original que la Inquisicion de Valladolid hizo al maestro Fr. Luis de Leon, religioso del órden de S. Agustin, ed. M. Salvá and P. Sainz de Baranda, in Coleccion de Documentos inéditos para la Historia de España (Madrid, 1847), vol. X, pp. 5-575, and vol. XI, pp. 5-358; J. Gonzalez de Tejada, Vida de Fray Luis de Leon (Madrid, 1863); C.A. Wilkens, Fray Luis de Leon (Halle, 1866); A. Arango y Escandon, Frai Luis de Leon, ensayo histórico, 2ª ed. (Mexico, 1866) [the first edition appeared in La Cruz (Mexico, 1855-56)]; F.H. Reusch, Luis de Leon und die spanische Inquisition (Bonn, 1873); M. Gutiérrez, El misticismo ortodoxo (Valladolid, 1886); M. Gutiérrez, Fray Luis de León y la filosofía española del siglo XVI, 2ª ed. aumentada (Madrid, 1891) [Adiciones póstumas in La Ciudad de Dios (1907), vol. LXXIII, pp. 391-399, {xii}478-494, 662-667; vol. LXXIV, pp. 49-55, 303-414, 487-496, 628-643; in La Ciudad de Dios (1908), vol. LXXV, pp. 34-47, 215-221, 291-303, 472-486]; J.M. Guardia, Fray Luis de Leon ou la poésie dans le cloître, in the Revue germanique (1863), vol. XXIV, pp. 307-342; M. Menéndez y Pelayo, Horacio en España, Solaces bibliográficas 2ª ed. (Madrid, 1885), vol. I, pp. 11-24, vol. II, pp. 26-36; M. Menéndez y Pelayo, Estudios de crítica literaria, 1ª serie (Madrid, 1893), pp. 1-72; F. Blanco García, Segundo proceso instruído por la Inquisición de Valladolid contra Fray Luis de León (Madrid, 1896); F. Blanco García, Fray Luis de León: rectificaciones biográficas, in the Homenaje a Menéndez y Pelayo (Madrid, 1899), vol. I, pp. 153-160; J.D.M. Ford, Luis de León, the Spanish poet, humanist and mystic, in the Publications of the Modern Language Association of America (Baltimore, 1899), vol. XIV, pp. 267-278; F. Blanco García, Fr. Luis de León: estudio biográfico del insigne poeta agustino{xiii} (Madrid, 1904); Acta de la reposición de Fray Luis de León en una cátedra de la Universidad de Salamanca in the Revista de Archivos, Bibliotecas y Museos, Tercera época (1900), vol. IV, pp. 680-682; L.G. Alonso Getino, La Causa de Fr. Luis de León ante la crítica y los nuevos documentos históricos, in the Revista de Archivos, Bibliotecas y Museos, Tercera época (1903), vol. IX, pp. 148-156, 268-279, 440-449; (1904), vol. XI, pp. 288-306, 380-397; C. Muiños Sáenz, El 'Decíamos ayer' de Fray Luis de León, (Madrid, 1905); L. Alonso Getino, Vida y procesos del maestro Fr. Luis de León (Salamanca, 1907); C. Muiños Sáenz El 'Decíamos ayer'... y otros excesos, in La Ciudad de Dios (1909), vol. LXXVIII, pp. 479-495, 544-560; vol. LXXIX, pp. 18-34, 107-124, 191-212, 353-374, 529-552; vol. LXXX pp. 99-125, 177-197; F. de Onís Sobre la trasmisión de la obra literaria de Fray Luis de León, in the Revista de Filología Española (Madrid, 1915), vol. II pp. 217-257;{xiv} R. Menéndez Pidal, Una poesia inédita de Fray Luis de León, in the Revista de Filología Española (Madrid, 1917), vol. IV, pp. 389-390; C. Pérez Pastor, Bibliografía madrileña (Madrid, 1891-1906-1907), parte ii, pp. 254-255, and parte iii, pp. 404-409; G. 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.

{1}

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{2} 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{3} 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{4} 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.{5}

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{6} apparently certain that Luis de Leon's great-grandfather married a Leonor de Villanueva, who is reported to have confessed to practising Jewish rites and to have been duly condemned by the Inquisition in 1513 or thereabouts.[6] This does not go to the root of the matter, for Leonor de Villanueva is alleged to have been Lope de Leon's second wife. His first wife is stated to have been Leonor Sanchez de Olivares, a lady of unquestioned orthodoxy, and mother of Gomez de Leon,[7] the future grandfather of the Luis de Leon with whom we are concerned here. If this statement be correct,[8] obviously there can be no ground for asserting that Luis de Leon was of Jewish blood. But it must in candour be admitted that the point is not wholly clear from doubt.[9]

It is now established that Luis de Leon was born at Belmonte in the province of Cuenca: 'Belmonte de la Mancha de Aragon' as he calls it.[10] When was he born? On his tombstone, he was stated{7} to be sixty-four years old when he died on August 23, 1591.[11] This is almost the only scrap of evidence available, for no baptismal registers dating back to the third decade of the sixteenth century are preserved at Belmonte.[12] Did the inscription on Luis de Leon's tomb mean that he had completed his sixty-fourth year, or did it mean that, at the time of his death, he had entered upon his sixty-fourth year? According to the answer given to these questions, the date of Luis de Leon's birth must be fixed either in 1527 or 1528.

Apart from the fact that Luis de Leon was taught singing,[13] as became the future friend of Salinas, we know next to nothing of his early youth. From himself we learn that he was taken from Belmonte to Madrid when he was five or six, that at the age of fourteen he was entered at Salamanca University, where one of his uncles—Francisco de Leon—was lecturer on Canon Law, and that shortly afterwards he resolved to enter a religious order.[14] The eldest son of a judge,[15] Luis de{8} Leon renounced most of his share of the paternal estate,[16] and gave it up to one—or both—of his younger brothers Cristóbal and Miguel, each of whom had been veinticuatro of Granada at some date previous to April 15, 1572.[17] On January 29, 1544, Luis de Leon was formally professed in the Augustinian order.[18] In his monastery we may plausibly conjecture that he led a solitary and bookish existence, poring over his texts and attending lectures assiduously. As early as 1546-1547 his name appears on the list of students of theology at Salamanca; the registers of theological students covering the years 1547-1548 to 1550-1551 are missing; Luis de Leon's name does not appear in the register for the academic year 1551-1552, but it recurs in the University books for the years 1552-1553 and 1554-1555. He there figures still as a student of theology.[19] He would seem, therefore, to have shown no amazing precocity in the schools; but his application, we may be sure, was intense, and there is nothing rash in{9} assuming that during part of the two years that he was absent, as he tells us,[20] from Salamanca, he was lecturing at Soria. The remaining eighteen months he probably devoted to exegetical studies at Alcalá de Henares, where he matriculated in 1556.[21] He was about thirty when he rather unexpectedly graduated as a bachelor of Arts at the University of Toledo.[22] Why he preferred to take his degree at Toledo instead of at Salamanca is not clear; it is plausibly conjectured that economy may have been his motive, as the obtaining of a bachelor's degree at Salamanca was an expensive business.[23] Confirmation of this conjecture is afforded by the fact that he speedily returned to his allegiance, was 'incorporated' as a bachelor at Salamanca in 1588, graduated there as a licentiate of theology in May 1560, and in the following month became a master of theology.[24] It soon became clear that he did not regard a University degree as a mere distinction. The retirement of Gregorio Gallo caused a vacancy{10} in the chair of Biblical Exegesis at Salamanca. Luis de Leon, though but a master of a few months' standing, presented himself as a candidate for the post. He failed to obtain it, being defeated by Gaspar de Grajal, a future ally and fellow victim:[25] so far as can be ascertained, this was Luis de Leon's sole academic check. Manifestly he was not daunted. He claimed, and established, his right to take part in certain examinations in his faculty,[26] and 'con mucho exceso' thwarted the designs of the famous Domingo Bañez, whom he afterwards described as 'enemigo capital'.[27] His combativeness did him no immediate harm, for, in December 1561, he was elected Professor of Theology at Salamanca.[28] He was obviously not disposed to hide his light under a bushel, nor to perform his academic duties in a spirit of humdrum routine. Whatever he did, he did with all his might, and his strenuous versatility made him conspicuous in University life. In 1565 he was transferred{11} from the theological chair to the chair of Scholastic Theology and Biblical Criticism, in which he succeeded his old master Juan de Guevara.[29]

Such successes as Luis de Leon had hitherto won he owed mainly to his own talents.[30] Brilliant as he was, there is no reason to assume that he was personally popular in Salamanca.[31] It does not appear that he made any effort to win popularity; nor is it certain that he would have succeeded even if he had sought to win it. His temper was impulsive, his disposition was critical and independent; his tongue and pen were sharp and made enemies among members of his own order; moreover, he contrived to alienate the Dominicans, a powerful body in Salamanca, as in the rest of Spain. No doubt he had many admirers, especially among his own students. Yet the University, as a whole, stood slightly aloof from him, and before long in certain obscurantist circles cautious hints of latitudinarianism were murmured against him. For these{12} mumblings there was absolutely no sort of foundation.[32] As might be inferred from the simple fact that he was afterwards chosen to be the first editor of St. Theresa's works, Luis de Leon was the most orthodox of men. His selection for this piece of work may have been due to the influence of the saint's friend and successor, Madre Ana de Jesús, who had the highest opinion of him.[33] But it was not often that he produced so favourable a personal impression; he had not mastered the gentle art of ingratiation; it is even conceivable that he did not strictly observe St. Paul's injunction to 'suffer fools gladly'.[34] Though fundamentally humble-minded, he was intolerant of what he thought to be nonsense: a quality which would perhaps not endear him to all his colleagues. He set a proper value on himself and his attainments; he was prone to sift the precious metal of truth from the dross of uninformed assertion; he had an incurable habit of choosing his friends from amongst those who shared{13} his tastes. A good Hebrew scholar, he was on terms of special intimacy with Gaspar de Grajal and with Martin Martinez de Cantalapiedra,[35] respectively Professors of Biblical Exegesis and of Hebrew in the University of Salamanca. Frank to the verge of indiscretion and suspecting no evil, Luis de Leon scattered over Salamanca fagots each of which contained innumerable sticks that his opponents used later to beat him with. Lastly, he had the misfortune, as it proved later, to differ profoundly on exegetical points from a veteran Professor of Latin, Rhetoric, and Greek.[36] This was Leon de Castro, a man of considerable but unassimilated learning, an astute wire-puller and incorrigible reactionary whose name figures in the bibliographies as the author of a series of commentaries on Isaiah—a performance which has not been widely read since its tardy first appearance in 1571. The delay in publishing this work, and the contemporary neglect of it, were apparently ascribed by{14} Castro to the personal hostility of Luis de Leon who, though he did not approve of the book, seems to have been perfectly innocent on both heads.[37]

The fires of these differences had smouldered for some years when, during the University course (as it appears) of 1568-1569, Luis de Leon gave a series of lectures wherein he discussed, with critical respect, the authority attaching to the Vulgate. The respect passed almost unnoticed; the criticism gave a handle to a group of vigilant foes. Since 1569 a good deal of water has flowed under the bridges which span the Tormes, and it is intrinsically likely that, were the objectionable lectures before us, Luis de Leon might appear to be an ultra-conservative in matters of Biblical criticism. But this is not the historical method. In judging the action of Leon de Castro and his allies we must endeavour to adjust ourselves to the sixteenth-century point of view. Matters would seem to have developed somewhat as follows. In 1569 a committee{15} was formed at Salamanca for the purpose of revising François Vatable's version of the Bible; both Luis de Leon and Leon de Castro were members of this committee,[38] and as they represented different schools of thought, there were lively passages between the two. It is customary to lay at Castro's door all the blame for the sequel. Nothing is likelier than that Leon de Castro was incoherent in his recriminations and provocative in tone: it is further alleged that his commentaries on Isaiah contained gratuitous digs at the views on Scriptural interpretation ascribed to Luis de Leon. It may well be that Luis de Leon, who had in him something of the irritability of a poet, took umbrage at these indirect attacks, and entered upon the discussion in a fretful state of mind. According to Leon de Castro, whose testimony on this point is uncontradicted, the climax came about in connexion with the text: 'Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise.' Castro obstinately maintained{16} that Vatable's interpretation of this passage was an interpretation favoured by the Jews against whom he cherished an incorrigible prejudice. Luis de Leon is reported to have lost patience at this assertion, and to have said that he would cause Castro's Commentaria in Essaiam Prophetam to be burnt. Castro, whatever his faults, was not the man to be cowed by a threat, and he retorted with the remark that, by God's grace, this should not come to pass, and that if there were any burning it would be applied rather to Luis de Leon and his family.[39] Having fired his bolt, but conscious that he was in a minority on the committee, Castro concluded with the sulky declaration that he did not propose to attend any further meetings of that body. He would seem to have changed his mind later on this point, modestly alleging that he gave way to the insistence of others who deemed his presence indispensable, on account of his knowledge of languages.[40] Whatever his linguistic accomplishments, they{17} did not produce the desired effect, for Vatable's version of the Bible was passed as revised by the committee of Salamancan theologians in 1571, though, for some unexplained reason, their revised text was not published till thirteen years later.

The quarrel between Castro and Luis de Leon soon became public property. Passions were ablaze in a moment. Parties were formed, and Castro found much support, especially among the body of undergraduates, of whom one at least ingenuously described himself as 'del bando de Jesucristo'.[41] There was almost as much tumult in the University of Salamanca as in Agramante's camp. Even if Castro thought that the hour of his triumph was at hand, he was too experienced and too Spanish to be precipitate. He may well have had an inkling that, if many were repelled by Luis de Leon's austerity and implacable righteousness, his own reputation as a pedant and reactionary did not mark him out for leadership. His lack of expository power may also have{18} struck him as a disqualification.[42] Further, on tactical grounds, he may have argued that his notorious hostility to Luis de Leon made it advisable for him not to figure too prominently in the ranks of the attacking party. Whatever his motive may have been, Castro gave place to a younger and far abler man, the well-known Dominican, Bartolomé de Medina, whose relations with Luis de Leon, never cordial, had grown strained, owing to various checks and disappointments. Medina honestly differed from Luis de Leon's views as regards Scriptural interpretation; he would have been a good deal more (or less) than human if he had not been galled by a series of small personal mortifications. He particularly resented, as well he might, being out-argued when he presented himself before Luis de Leon to be examined for his licentiateship of theology; the knowledge that this incident was talked over by mocking students did not improve matters.[43] Medina was, however, too wily to delate Luis de Leon{19} directly; he reported to the Inquisition on the general situation at Salamanca, and in this document no names were mentioned. Luis de Leon was not in a position to counteract the manœuvres of his opponents. It is not certain that he could have done so, had he been continuously in Salamanca at this time: as it happened, he was absent at Belmonte from the beginning of 1571 till the month of March, and on his return he fell ill. All this while, Medina and Castro were free to go about sowing tares, making damaging suggestions, and collecting such corroborative evidence as could be gleaned from ill-disposed colleagues and garrulous or slow-witted students.[44] It appears that Medina's statement, embodying seventeen propositions which (as he averred) were taught at Salamanca, reached the Supreme Inquisition in Madrid on December 2, 1571; on December 13 the Inquisitionary Commissary at Salamanca was instructed to ascertain the source of the statement,[45] and to report on the tenability of the{20} views set forth in the seventeen propositions.[46] Evidently the matter was regarded as urgent: for, on December 17, the Inquisitionary Commissary opened his preliminary inquiry at Salamanca. The sole witness called at the first sitting was Medina,[47] who repeated his assertions, mentioning Luis de Leon, Grajal, and Martinez de Cantalapiedra as offenders. A committee of five persons was appointed to examine into the orthodoxy of the views alleged to be held by these three. As Leon de Castro was a member of this committee, and as none of the other four members was in sympathy with Luis de Leon, the general tenor of the committee's findings might readily be predicted. These findings were somewhat hastily adopted by the local Inquisition at Valladolid on January 26, 1572, when the arrest of Grajal and Martinez de Cantalapiedra was recommended.[48] Up to this point Luis de Leon would seem not to have been officially implicated by name, though he was clearly aimed at, especially by{21} Castro who appeared before the Inquisitionary Commissary at Salamanca, and reiterated Medina's charges with some wealth of rancorous detail.[49]

With significant promptitude effect was given to the recommendation of the local Inquisition: Grajal was apprehended on March 1; shortly afterwards Martinez de Cantalapiedra was likewise apprehended; and, as these measures seemed to arouse no feeling more dangerous than surprise in Salamanca, it was conceivably thought safe to fly at higher game. Manifestly, Luis de Leon must have known that something perilous was afoot when he handed in a most respectfully-worded written statement on March 6, 1572.[50] By about this time there had arrived in Salamanca Diego Gonzalez—an experienced official, whose conduct of the Inquisitionary case against Bartolomé de Carranza, the Archbishop of Toledo, has earned him an unenviable repute.[51] Under the presidency of Gonzalez, who might be trusted to keep the weaker{22} brethren, if there were any, up to the mark, the local Inquisition on March 15 resolved to recommend the arrest of Luis de Leon. Apparently the gravity of this step was recognized. Another sitting was held on March 19, and a vote was taken with the result that the previous decision was confirmed by four votes to two. It should not, however, be assumed that the vote of the two implied any marked personal sympathy with Luis de Leon. On the contrary: the difference between the majority and the minority was concerned solely with a question of procedure. The minority suggested that it would cause less fuss and less scandal to seize Luis de Leon, Grajal, and Martinez de Cantalapiedra, to place each of them in solitary confinement for a short while in a Valladolid monastery, and thence to remove them, without trial, to the secret prison of the Inquisition.[52] It is difficult to detect the humanitarian motive of this alternative proposal.{23}

II

III

Though, in accord with the customary procedure in such cases, each witness who appeared before Gonzalez was sworn to secrecy, it is evident that there was no mystery in Salamanca as to the intention of the Valladolid Inquisitors. On March 25, 1572, a day before the formal order for the arrest of Luis de Leon was actually signed, Diego de Valladolid was accepted as bail to the amount of two thousand ducats, that the said Luis de Leon would go quietly to prison in Valladolid without making any attempt at escape.[53] A document to this effect was drawn up and was duly signed by three witnesses, of whom one was a Familiar of the Inquisition, Francisco de Almansa. It seems likely that Almansa may have suspected that, for the time being, the hours of Luis de Leon's comparative freedom were already numbered; for, on the following{40} day (March 26, 1572), Almansa was appointed alguacil of the Valladolid Inquisitionary court, was directed to arrest Luis de Leon wherever he might be—'in church, or monastery, or other hallowed place'—and was further ordered to sequestrate any arms, cash, jewels, or papers which the prisoner might have about him. [54] Almansa, to whom Luis de Leon was perfectly well known, [55] obeyed instructions, and reached the Valladolid jail with his captive at about six o'clock in the evening of Thursday, March 27, 1572.[56] After being carefully searched, Luis de Leon was lodged in the secret cells of the Inquisition, and there, except for his appearances in court, he was detained for over four years and eight months.[57]

Though he was notoriously in weak health, the prisoner does not seem to have received any special consideration. On the other hand, it cannot be maintained that, at the outset, his judges treated him with inhumanity. That Luis{41} de Leon was nervous about himself, and that he believed it possible he might die without warning is the impression conveyed by a fervent act of faith which, though undated, was probably written almost as soon as his imprisonment began. On March 31, Luis de Leon asked for various things besides four books: one of them a box of powder with which he was usually provided by a nun named Ana de Espinosa to alleviate his heart-attacks.[58] This petition was granted. Luis de Leon's request for a knife to cut his food with was so clearly against all prison regulations that he can scarcely have expected a favourable reply.[59] The Inquisitors met him half-way by ordering that he should at once be supplied with a rounded spoon, sufficient for his purpose, though useless to a prisoner of suicidal tendencies.[60] At this stage, it cannot be said that Luis de Leon was treated with any want of lenity. There was no reason why he should be. He was arrested mainly on suspicion of being concerned in{42} the (purely imaginary) Jewish propaganda imputed to his colleagues Grajal and Martinez de Cantalapiedra; the evidence against him was second-hand and meagre.

Before long matters began to take a graver aspect. A definite charge[61] emerged that some ten or eleven years earlier[62] Luis de Leon had translated from the Hebrew into Spanish the Song of Solomon, to which he appended a commentary, also in Spanish. This he did at the request of a nun whose name is incidentally revealed as 'Doña Isabel Osorio, monja de Sancti Espíritu de Salamanca'.[63] That Luis de Leon's proceeding was most imprudent is undeniable. With characteristic courage and candour, in his first confesion of March 6, he volunteered the admission that he had made such a rendering.[64] At this moment he was apparently unaware that the existence of this rendering had been already brought to the notice of the Inquisition by Medina.[65] Nobody questions Luis de Leon's good faith. Nevertheless one gets the{43} impression that he felt this to be a weak point in his case. It was. He had committed a serious indiscretion by infringing the general prohibition of vernacular versions of any part of Scripture. No doubt it might be contended that his rendering of the Song of Solomon, and his commentary on it, were originally meant to be used by only one private person; that the prohibition referred to the circulation of vernacular versions; that this particular version, made for the exclusive use of Doña Isabel Osorio, did not amount to circulation (within the four corners of the general prohibition); and that such circulation as had taken place had occurred against the will of the translator. This is not mere sophistry. What seems to have happened was this. It appears that a lay brother, named Diego de Leon, part of whose business it was to tidy Luis de Leon's cell, stumbled one day upon the original manuscript of the vernacular version of the Song of Solomon, copied it without leave or licence, and allowed so{44} many transcriptions of his copy to be made that it became absolutely impossible for the translator to control or recall them afterwards.[66] Manifestly Diego de Leon did not venture to remove the original manuscript from its resting-place; it was still in Luis de Leon's monastery-cell on November 7, 1573.[67] Search being made for it, the version was found, handed over to the Inquisitionary authorities, and retained by them when judgement was pronounced.[68] There is evidence to show that many manuscript copies of the vernacular Song of Solomon stole into existence and were widely distributed. On March 6, 1572, Luis de Leon, whose references to this matter are tinged with regret, uses words which seem to imply that a copy had reached Portugal; and an inquiry, opened at Cuzco in the autumn of 1575, revealed the fact that a transcription of the Cantares que llaman de fray Luis de Leon had been made by Fray Luis Alvarez and conveyed by him to South America. This transcription,{45} after being recopied by a Lima graduate, who appears to have left for Spain to continue his studies at the University of Alcalá de Henares, was deposited in the public library of Quito which was housed in the Augustinian monastery there.[69] This episode denotes a morbid curiosity which must have been revolting to Luis de Leon's austere nature. He candidly avowed doubts as to the prudence of facilitating the reading of the Song of Solomon in Spanish, and would have cancelled all manuscript copies if he could.[70] In this respect, however, he was powerless, and no better remedy occurred to him than to set to work on a Latin version which, when printed, should supplant the Spanish rendering. This he hoped to be able to disown. But fate was hostile to his design. Constant ill-health hindered him from making rapid headway with his projected Latin translation. He submitted himself to the Court which, naturally enough, vouchsafed no reply to his request for alternative suggestions{46} as to how he could make amends for a preliminary error of judgement.[71]

If Luis de Leon's opponents expected to overwhelm him by the suddenness, vehemence, or volume of their attack, they must speedily have been disillusioned. The mystic poet proved to be a formidable fighting-man. Before very long it must have dawned upon the Inquisitionary deputies at Valladolid that they had caught a Tartar. Unversed in the ways of the world, Luis de Leon came of a legal stock, and was thoroughly at home in a law-court. A master of dialectics, he was always alert, always prompt to criticize the evidence, always ready to deal with every point as it arose, always prepared to furnish elaborate written or verbal explanations as to every detail concerning which the tribunal could harbour a reasonable doubt. The official secretaries of the Court—Celedon Gustin and the rest of them—must have grown to dread Luis de Leon's continual demands for sheets of paper on which to write his long, considered{47} replies. It would be idle to attempt to summarize the technical arguments advanced by each side in support of conflicting views on doctrinal or exegetical problems. In this place, it will suffice to advert to points which help to illuminate the character of Luis de Leon, or to exemplify the attitude of the court towards him.

At the outset, as already stated, there seems to have existed no decided prejudice against Luis de Leon in the minds of his judges: they apparently administered the existing system in a not illiberal spirit. There are indications, however, that this position of relative impartiality was not maintained. That the court became gradually biased against the accused seems to follow from the small but eloquent fact of its rejecting Luis de Leon's petition that his University chair should not be declared vacant till the end of his trial.[72] It cannot be argued that the judges were concerned for the efficiency of the teaching in the University of Salamanca—a matter in which they took no{48} sort of interest. The decision of the court in Luis de Leon's case was in direct conflict with the ruling of the same court as regards Barrientos, another Salamancan professor who was in custody of the Valladolid Inquisition on May 20, 1572.[73] It was then settled that Barrientos should not be disturbed, and that no successor to him should be appointed so long as he was imprisoned. Luis de Leon's chair was declared vacant as soon as his normal tenure of four years had expired; the ordinary course of unquestioned renewal was not followed; and, to make matters worse, his implacable opponent, Bartolomé de Medina, was appointed to succeed Luis de Leon in his chair.[74] For this appointment, no doubt, the University of Salamanca is entitled to claim such credit as is due. But no such appointment would have been possible had the Valladolid Inquisitors been consistent. What caused the court to be more severe to Luis de Leon than to his colleague Barrientos?

This instance of inconsiderateness is not{49} unique. As time went on the bias of the court against the accused waxed rather than waned. Luis de Leon's ill-health was notorious and, in fact, so obvious that it is recorded by the court in an official minute.[75] His state did not improve in jail. Suffering from fever—'como á sus mercedes les consta'—so he says plaintively—he had nobody to look after him in his secret cell save a sleepy-headed boy, a fellow-prisoner who was half a simpleton. Luis de Leon had fainted from lack of food, and, in the circumstances, it is not surprising that he should have asked to be allowed the companionship of a monk of his order—preferably Fray Alonso Siluente—or anybody else whom the court should think fit to name.[76] Somewhat later, while still suffering from fever, Luis de Leon begged that, on his providing satisfactory bail, he might be transferred from his prison-cell to some neighbouring monastery, where he could be detained till the end of his trial. So depressed was he at{50} this moment that he even welcomed the idea of being placed in a Dominican monastery; it was true that the Dominicans were hostile to him, yet if he died among them, he should be dying like a Christian, surrounded by religious—not like a heathen with a blackamoor at his bedside.[77] The first of these two requests was made to the Valladolid judges, who passed it on to the Supreme Inquisition at Madrid; the reply of this body was discouraging, for, though the request was granted in principle, impossible conditions, tantamount to a refusal, were imposed.[78] Luis de Leon's second request was addressed direct to the Inquisitor-General: this petition was disregarded. In other matters, less urgent but not less important from an orthodox point of view, the Inquisitionary judges at Valladolid made no concession to the prisoner. He asked to be allowed to go to confession, and to say Mass once a fortnight in the hall where his case was heard.[79] Apparently a deaf ear was{51} turned to his entreaties. A hostile critic might be tempted to say that a vindictive spirit prevailed in the deliberations of the Valladolid tribunal.

It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that, as the case developed, the attitude of the Valladolid judges became less and less favourable to Luis de Leon. Judges are mortals and liable to error. The very pertinacity of the prisoner may have impressed them badly.[80] It is in the highest degree improbable that they attached any importance to his few slips. He speaks of having a naturally weak memory which, so he declares, had grown worse while he was in prison,[81] and he was frankly sceptical as to the possibility of any man's recalling every incident in squabbles that happened years before.[82] As it happens, his memory seems to have been excellent. No doubt it failed him now and then; but seldom did it mislead him on any essential point.[83] It is conceivable that Luis de Leon's judges at Valladolid thought him lacking in deference.{52} Though perfectly respectful, his attitude to them was anything but subservient. The judges were accustomed to see prisoners who were brought before them crushed with awe and a sense of impending doom. Conscious of the baselessness of the charges against him, the accused seemed to take his acquittal as certain; and he stood so little in awe of his judges that he announced his intention of appealing over their heads to the members of the Supreme Inquisition.[84] Timidity was not among his failings. A priest of Astudillo, formerly a student at Salamanca, had occasionally strayed into Luis de Leon's densely-packed lecture-room, and retained an abiding impression of the professor's desenvoltura in his chair.[85] Luis de Leon had not become wholly subdued during the intervening years. He did not mince words in court, and indulged in sweeping denunciations of large groups of men; he branded all Dominicans as 'enemies';[86] he was scarcely more indulgent in{53} speaking of the Jeromites (who resented his opposition to the candidature of their representative, Hector Pinto, for a chair at Salamanca);[87] and on general grounds, not unconnected with ancient academic rancours, he objected to the entire faculty of theology at the University of Alcalá de Henares.[88] The evidence of such persons should, he suggested, be discounted in advance. Slow to think evil of his neighbours, Luis de Leon was apt, once his suspicions were aroused, to fling his net widely. He had some inkling that he and his had the fatal gift of rousing antagonism. His uncle had been a practising lawyer, and Luis de Leon argued that all who had suffered through the professional activities of his kinsman should be debarred from testifying in his case.[89] The unworldly man manifestly took it for granted that witnesses who harboured any such grudge against him would willingly admit it, if pressed on the point.

Outspoken as was Luis de Leon with{54} regard to groups, he was not less outspoken with regard to individuals, and in this respect it must be admitted that he does not appear at his best. Vehemence of language had been the rule in the Salamancan juntas of professors, and much of this intemperate tone clung to Luis de Leon. No doubt large allowances should be made for him. He knew that his honour was at stake and that his life was in peril.[90] As he was persuaded—perhaps rightly—he had been brought to this pass mainly through the intrigues of an unscrupulous pair.[91] His provocation was extreme. It was almost to be expected that he should use plain words when referring to foes as malignant as Medina and Castro. These two men he accused of deliberately organizing a conspiracy against him;[92] he spoke bluntly of Medina's 'hatred', 'rage', 'trickery', and 'lying';[93] he was not mealy-mouthed in describing Castro's 'malice', 'deceit', 'calumnies', and 'perjury'.[94] Luis de Leon dealt no less faithfully with some members of{55} his own order who were spiteful or cowardly—or both. As early as the beginning of August 1572 Fray Gabriel Montoya, Prior of the Augustinian Monastery at Toledo, stated to the Inquisitors at Valladolid that, in his opinion, certain remarks on the Vulgate, made by Luis de Leon in the course of a lecture, were of an heretical savour.[95] The value of this opinion is somewhat diminished by the fact that Montoya had a personal grudge against Luis de Leon who, some four or five years previously, had prevented Montoya's election as Provincial of the Augustinians in Spain.[96] This check seems to have galled Montoya, who gives the impression of being a rancorous gossip, and, before leaving the court, he repeated a malignant rumour—derived he knew not whence—to the effect that Luis de Leon's father had enjoined his son to be submissive to his superiors and to follow the current opinion in matters intellectual.[97] Luis de Leon indulges in no circuitous phrases when he comes to deal with{56} Montoya, whom he describes as an enemy notorious for his untruthfulness.[98] It would appear that much of Montoya's second-hand information came from another Augustinian, Francisco de Arboleda,[99] who had once been a student of Luis de Leon's,[100] and had been entrusted by the prisoner with the delicate mission of collecting from certain theologians in Seville opinions favourable to Luis de Leon's views upon the Vulgate.[101] This very sensible precaution scandalized Montoya. It is open to criticism solely on the ground that Luis de Leon chose his agent badly. To this criticism the real answer is that Luis de Leon had to employ what agents he could, and that nobody but Arboleda, who was not above flattering his old master,[102] was available at the time of his mission to Seville. Arboleda's evidence was not damaging; it was ill-intentioned and impertinent, inasmuch as it repeated vague rumours of the Jewish descent of the accused;[103] the gravest fact the{57} witness could allege was Luis de Leon's view that a friar, despite his vow of poverty, might spend a couple of coppers without mortal sin in buying an Agnus Dei.[104] Arboleda gives the impression of being a dullard, and this is pretty much the description of him by another member of the Augustinian order—Pedro de Rojas,[105] son of the Marqués de Pozas and afterwards Bishop of Astorga and Osuna. Luis de Leon apparently agreed with Rojas in his estimate of Arboleda's ability, and this may account for his comparative leniency to the poor numbskull. More severe treatment is meted out to another Augustinian, Diego de Zúñiga, whom Luis de Leon brands as a deliberate perjurer.[106] Who was this Zúñiga? He has generally been identified with the Zúñiga who was among the first in Spain to declare in favour of the Copernican theory;[107] this action needed courage and Zúñiga has had his reward. As he is respectfully quoted by Galileo, he has attained something like immortality.[108]{58} There is, however, no conclusive evidence to show that this enlightened writer is the Zúñiga who came under Luis de Leon's lash. The correctness of the current identification is, at least, doubtful.

The fact that Diego de Zúñiga is a frequent combination of names in Spain is an embarrassment to the investigator. It is noticeable that Luis de Leon's references seem to imply some doubt as to his opponent's real name; he is obviously uncertain whether his accuser should be called Zúñiga or Rodriguez,[109] and in this uncertainty he is not alone.[110] It appears that there were at least two Augustinians known as Diego de Zúñiga in Luis de Leon's time; it further appears that neither of the two inherited from his father the surname which he habitually used. Both men claimed relationship with the Duque de Béjar—it was to the seventh Duque de Béjar that Cervantes dedicated the First Part of Don Quixote in 1605—and both assumed the family{59} name of that illustrious stock.[111] The original name of the more celebrated of these Zúñigas was Diego Arias;[112] the original name of the less celebrated was Rodriguez.[113] This is not decisive, but it may well be one of those small facts which speak volumes. Chronology confirms the conclusion to be drawn from these considerations. The Zúñiga who appeared against Luis de Leon at Valladolid was evidently professed as early as 1559 or 1560;[114] the more celebrated Zúñiga was not professed till 1566.[115] General considerations point in the same direction. The views of Zúñiga (alias Arias) were approximately those of Luis de Leon;[116] he viewed matters from the same standpoint, was himself a university professor,[117] and had something of Luis de Leon's fearlessness.[118] Zúñiga (alias Rodriguez) was a man of a very different type: pedantically attached to the letter of the law, morbidly scrupulous on points of discipline. There seems to be no touch of burlesque intention in{60} Luis de Leon's presentment of the man. According to Luis de Leon, Zúñiga (alias Rodriguez) was half-crazed with vanity, much given to boasting of the esteem in which he was held at the Papal Court. On one occasion, the fatuous Zúñiga produced a short treatise entitled Manera para aprender todas las ciencias, and, stating that he proposed sending this pamphlet to the Pope, made bold to ask what his interlocutor thought of it. Can he have been vain enough to expect a favourable verdict? If so, he did not know his man. Luis de Leon drily expressed his regret that a work destined for the Pope should be so slight and should contain a number of rather commonplace passages such as might be found in any current book of reference—though, as he added politely, he assumed that these passages were the fruit of independent reading. This courteous assumption, which Zúñiga hastily assured Luis de Leon was exact,[119] could not alter the fact that the ambitious author{61} had been severely snubbed, and this snub may well have rankled in the mind of a man who is described as 'vindictive'. Zúñiga had another grievance against Luis de Leon, who had taken a severe view of his companion's insolence to an official superior at a Provincial Chapter, and had joined in making representations the upshot of which was that the culprit was publicly and ignominiously punished.[120] It is well-nigh incredible that the Zúñiga who championed Copernicus, and displays vigilant self-restraint in his writings, should have been guilty of such flightiness as is brought home to his namesake; it is by no means inconceivable that the Zúñiga who deposed against Luis de Leon should have been guilty of occasional lapses. He is said to have been impetuous as well as vindictive;[121] he had the dangerous gift of pulpit eloquence[122] and may have acquired the trick of saying rather more than he meant. His evidence against Luis de Leon, though fluent and clear, is not{62} what we should expect from a man of talent, who recognized the gravity of the charges against the prisoner. His testimony, such as it is, has less intellectual substance than the testimony of Castro and Medina; it turns mainly on petty personal questions or on points of morbid scrupulousness. The more closely his evidence is scrutinized, the more difficult is it to avoid the suspicion that Zúñiga was not a perfectly trustworthy witness. For instance, according to his sworn statement he was thirty-six years old when he deposed at Toledo on November 4, 1572.[123] The declaration is made positively without any of the qualifying phrases—'about', 'nearly', 'more or less'—so frequent on the part of witnesses. Nevertheless, it seems possible that this assertion is erroneous. Zúñiga refers to a discussion respecting Arias Montano which he had with Luis de Leon in the latter's cell some thirteen years previously. At this time Zúñiga would, on his own showing, be but twenty-three. From{63} what we know of Luis de Leon, it seems improbable that he would admit to his confidential intimacy a man so much his junior. No doubt Zúñiga (or Rodriguez) was young at the time—hardly old enough, by his own reckoning, to be an ordained priest—a mancebo, as he seemed to Luis de Leon's retrospicient eyes.[124] Yet it is very hard to believe that Zúñiga was no more than twenty-three when he took it upon himself to cast doubts on the orthodoxy of Benito Arias Montano;[125] nor is it likely that Luis de Leon would discuss so delicate a topic with the most brilliant of youths. Let it not be said that the question of Zúñiga's accuracy in stating his age is relatively unimportant. It is highly relevant; for, if Zúñiga were capable of making a mistake on such a point, he was manifestly more liable to error when dealing with other matters on which he necessarily knew less. However, Zúñiga's evidence is not weighty enough to call for detailed examination. He may be left to bear the burden of Luis de{64} Leon's scorn. I am more concerned here to suggest that, on the facts before us, we are not compelled to identify the Zúñiga who deposed against Luis de Leon with a namesake of a higher intellectual type. To us who read the testimony in cold blood, more than three centuries after it was given, it seems that Luis de Leon deals as impartially with his brethren as with members of other religious orders. This was not his intention, at any rate. He knew his fellow-Augustinians better than he could know the rest, and he himself tells us not obscurely that, out of consideration for his gown, he was silent on various matters which, if proclaimed aloud, would not make for edification.[126]

Members of the Valladolid Court could see for themselves that while Luis de Leon's opponents—Dominicans, Jeromites, and the rest—were banded solidly against him, the Augustinians were by no means unanimous in his favour. That he was difficult to deal with personally the Court had opportunities of knowing. His{65} unbending fidelity to principle and his impetuosity probably produced on the tribunal an impression of obstinacy combined with caprice. On May 6, 1573, a certain Dr. Ortiz de Funes was, as is recorded, nominated counsel to the prisoner;[127] there is no reason to suppose that Ortiz de Funes was in ability below the average level of the bar, but he was no match for his client, and though he may have given valuable advice on purely legal points, when these arose, it soon became plain that Luis de Leon was the brain of the defence and that he meant to conduct that defence in his own way. Ortiz de Funes became a nullity or, at least, a mere figure-head whose main duty consisted in signing papers which the prisoner had drawn up. A time came when, according to the practice of the Inquisition, it became necessary for Luis de Leon to nominate patronos, and in this matter Ortiz de Funes intervened somewhat more prominently than was usual with him. A patrono has no exact{66} counterpart in English ecclesiastical law; it was his business, within narrow limits, to defend the interests of the accused from the theological point of view. On June 26, 1574, Luis de Leon was brought into court, and was told that he was to choose two patronos out of four men whose names were given him.[128] He was obviously taken aback at this proposal, and replying that, since he did not know any of the four, he was ignorant as to their qualifications, added that he had already requested the appointment of Sebastian Perez, professor of Theology at Párraces, as patrono. He renewed his request, adding that either Dr. Cáncer or the Dominican Hernando del Castillo could be appointed with Perez; but before any determination was taken, he begged leave to consult his legal adviser.[129] As might have been expected, Ortiz de Funes fell in with his client's view and two days later made a formal application to the Court that Perez be appointed patrono, with either Cáncer or Castillo to{67} help him.[130] No appointment was made at the moment and, as it turned out, this was perhaps just as well; for by June 30 Luis de Leon had changed his mind, and appeared in court to ask that Castillo's name be removed from the list of acceptable patronos.[131] On July 14 Ortiz de Funes announced his client's intention of appealing to the Inquisitor-General against the decision forcing him to select patronos from a list of persons unknown to him.[132] Neither Luis de Leon nor Ortiz de Funes seemed to have guessed that the Valladolid judges were acting on instructions from the Supreme Inquisition at Madrid.[133] For a moment the step taken by Ortiz de Funes and his client appeared to have some slight effect. Luis de Leon was informed that he would be allowed to appoint Perez as his patrono but on two conditions: (1) he must undertake to pay all the travelling expenses of his patrono, and (2) an inquiry must be held to establish the limpieza of Perez. This last proceeding,{68} it was significantly added, would be slow.[134] Again Ortiz de Funes was consulted; but it is difficult to believe that he had more than a technical responsibility for the startling decision which he announced: the decision to accept as patronos Fray Mancio de Corpus Christi and either Bartolomé de Medina or Dr. Cáncer.[135] Mancio, whose pupil Luis de Leon had once been at Alcalá, was a Dominican;[136] hence he would be suspect—perhaps doubly 'suspect'—in the prisoner's eyes. Medina, also a Dominican, was an overt foe; Cáncer, of whom Luis de Leon knew nothing except that he was a professor at Salamanca, proved to be not over friendly. Luis de Leon may conceivably have thought that Mancio's undoubted learning would ensure his treading in the strict path of justice, and that Mancio's advanced age[137] would enable him to press his views on his coadjutor. It is more likely, however, that the three names were put forward in a paroxysm of impatience—at a moment{69} when Luis de Leon was willing to fall in with any arrangement which might hasten a decision of his case.

Mancio was appointed patrono, and was duly sworn in at Valladolid on October 9, 1574;[138] on October 13 he made a report favourable to the accused.[139] The prisoner was not informed of this (as he should have been), and took umbrage at what he thought was an act of insolent remissness. He appeared in court on October 16, and protested against any of his papers being entrusted to Mancio, lest he should take them to his Dominican monastery where they ran the risk of being scanned by hostile eyes.[140] On October 22 the prisoner showed signs of increasing distrust, for he then requested the return of thirty-two sheets of paper, covered with notes for his defence, which he himself had handed to Mancio.[141] Luis de Leon's suspicions deepened rapidly. On October 25 he asked to be allowed to cancel his nomination of Mancio as{70} patrono.[142] The local judges referred the application to the Supreme Inquisition, and were instructed to proceed as though nothing unusual had happened; Mancio, however, was to be told to stay away still further notice.[143] On December 7 Luis de Leon handed in a written explanation of his recent action. With regard to Mancio, he complained of his patrono's omission to confer with him, expressed some suspicion that Mancio might have become a party to Medina's plot, declined to accept as valid Mancio's excuse for not attending—that he had to lecture in Salamanca—and vehemently declared that Mancio's negligence amounted to very grave sin.[144] These phrases can scarcely have been used in their natural sense, for Luis de Leon concluded his written petition by stating that he was still willing to accept Mancio as his patrono, if Mancio were able to be present at Valladolid. Should this be impossible, the prisoner asked that Dr. Vadillo, Canon of Plasencia, and the{71} Augustinian Fray Francisco Cueto should be assigned to him as patronos. A working arrangement thus became possible, and the General Inquisitor at Madrid ordered that Mancio should be given due facilities. These orders were received on December 13.[145] It appears that Mancio picked up the dropped threads of this business on December 23, and spent another day or two in reviewing the general situation.[146] Mancio's cautious policy was doubtless sound; but to Luis de Leon, who maintained that the matters on which his patrono had to pronounce were as simple as could be, these tactics seemed mistaken, and on January 13, 1575, he begged the Court to press Mancio to give an opinion without delay.[147] On March 6 Luis de Leon once more complained of being unable to confer with his patrono; but now, rather late in the day, he came nearer to putting the blame on the right shoulders. Hitherto he had been prone to ascribe all manner of evil motives to Mancio,{72} whom he should have known better: at last it vaguely dawned on him that the obstacles might come (as, in fact, they did come) from the tribunal which was trying him.[148] On March 15 Mancio wrote a letter to the judges, promising to attend at Valladolid unless absolutely prevented from doing so.[149] Four days later the General Inquisition wrote to the same judges, hinting that a decision might be given shortly.[150] The Valladolid Court was stirred into temporary activity. A sitting was held on March 30; Mancio was present; a consultation took place between him and his client;[151] and henceforth we hear no more of difficulties in connexion with Luis de Leon's patrono. Nearly six months had been wasted owing to want of tact on the part of the Inquisitionary officials.

As the event proved, the prisoner's protests in this matter were thoroughly justified. It is easy to perceive this now. We cannot be sure that we should have taken the same view had we been contemporary{73} spectators. If appearances were not actually against Luis de Leon, they combined to reveal him in his least attractive posture. His comparative promptitude in accepting Mancio as patrono, his unwillingness to abide by his choice, his sudden hostility to Mancio, his final acceptance of Mancio, are all explicable variations. Nevertheless they showed a disregard for superficial consistency which might easily be misinterpreted as caprice. The bias of the court had been veering away from the prisoner for some time. His series of actions with respect to Mancio lost him all judicial favour. His judges considered him as an unreasonable man, a gifted sophist fertile in inventing objections in and out of season, a hair-splitter perpetually arguing for argument's sake. Luis de Leon was, as a rule, so unaccommodating that some of his judges may have begun to think they understood why he was not universally popular with members of his own order. Nor did Luis de Leon's demeanour in court serve to dissipate the{74} atmosphere of almost arrogant rectitude which enveloped him. He felt bound to criticize the machinery of the Inquisition. He may easily have seemed to be criticizing those engaged in working the machinery. At the best of times the procedure of the Court was not expeditious. For example, though Luis de Leon was arrested on March 27, 1572, the first hearing of his formal defence did not take place till April 14—more than a fortnight later. More than once Luis de Leon complained of the Court's delays without going into questions of motive.[152] In this he was clearly right, for, as we have seen, the Supreme Inquisition was not wholly satisfied with the progress made. At other times the prisoner stressed the fact that constant postponements were apt to do him injury, and he hinted rather plainly that there was an intention to wear him down by deliberately prolonging the proceedings.[153] In this conjecture he was almost certainly wrong. The Valladolid judges had no power to alter{75} the system which they found in existence; possibly, becoming accustomed to it, they ended by thinking well of it. Its weak points were naturally more evident to Luis de Leon, and his torrent of critical remarks may have seemed to reflect on the intelligence and probity of the Court. Administrators, however exalted, are human, and even the lowliest of magistrates is prone to take offence, if given to understand that he is considered dull and dishonest. Luis de Leon never was betrayed into using disrespectful language; but his polite formulae could not conceal the fact that he had no very high opinion of those in whose hands his fate lay. Nor did the well-meant observance of established forms on the part of the Court do anything to modify his sentiments. It was in strict conformity with precedent that he should be adjured to make a clean breast of it and should be informed that, while truthfulness would meet with clemency, lying would be severely dealt with.[154] It is strange that it should have been thought{76} necessary to use this formula in the case of Luis de Leon—a highly-strung, sensitive man, with an almost morbid passion for truth. The sole excuse for the Inquisitors is that this warning was given at the first sitting. But, at the second sitting, the warning was repeated in almost identical terms.[155] It seems scarcely possible to show less tact in the conduct of a difficult case. No doubt the explanation is that none of the Valladolid judges was sufficiently independent to set a precedent of his own.

Large allowances must be made for those unhappy men. They cannot reasonably be blamed for not taking it upon themselves to alter the established procedure of the Court in which they sat. Their position was always difficult, and it did not become easier as time went on. They had good reason to know that a vocal group of influential persons in Salamanca confidently expected them to condemn Luis de Leon; yet some of them, at least, were uncomfortably aware{77} that the evidence before them would not warrant a conviction on the major charges. The most damaging witnesses—Medina, Castro, and Zúñiga—had been called at a very early stage of the proceedings. These heavy guns had been fired without destroying the adversary. There was nothing for it now but to hope for the worst from the reports of the official calificadores, Dr. Cáncer, Fray Nicolas Ramos, and Dr. Frechilla, who did their utmost to fulfil expectations.[156] Lest the pronouncements of this trio proved unconvincing, the precaution was taken of excluding evidence. At the beginning of the case, any sort of second-hand gossip was admitted as evidence on the chance that its cumulative effect might be damaging to the accused. At Murcia, on February 4, 1573, a hostile Augustinian, Fray Juan Ciguelo, a man of doubtful character, was permitted to retail idle chatter on the part of another Augustinian who averred that Luis de Leon was prone to saying Requiems too often, and was in{78} the habit of reading Latin too quickly.[157] Ciguelo's testimony, though malignant, had done no harm; later on, it was thought more prudent to adopt the opposite policy and to prevent as many as possible of the witnesses for the defence from being heard. As late as July 7, 1576, no less than three interrogatories[158] by Luis de Leon were rejected on the ground that they were irrelevant (impertinentes).[159] It is difficult to reconcile these decisions, except on the hypothesis that the later ruling was thought to be more likely to damage Luis de Leon than the earlier one. In their despair, his adversaries trumped up an assertion which was easily disproved.[160]

Disorderly and incoherent as it is, the record of the case enables us to corroborate and, in one or two trifling particulars, to supplement the details reported by Francisco Pacheco who, in his youth, may easily have met Luis de Leon and must later have known many who had seen him. According to that painter's{79} Libro de Descripcion de verdaderos Retratos de illustres y memorables varones, Luis de Leon was below the middle height; he had a large but shapely head, covered with thick and rather curly hair which grew densely on the crown; his brow was broad; his features were more blunt than aquiline; his complexion was darkish; his green eyes were bright; his aspect was grave; and, we may add, he was prone to walk quickly. Pacheco, indeed, regarded Luis de Leon as something of a universal genius: an expert in mathematics, in jurisprudence, in medicine—and, though self-taught as a painter—an artist of considerable skill. (This last was a compliment, coming as it did from the future father-in-law of Velazquez.) Evidently Pacheco was a whole-hearted admirer whose enthusiasm needs discounting. However, so far as we can check it, his account seems to be correct in the matter of direct observation. The fact that there is scarcely one flash of humour in the interminable record of the Valladolid{80} trial confirms Pacheco's report of the prisoner's habitual gravity. No doubt the tragic circumstances in which he found himself were not conducive to displays of humour. When being tried for his life, the merriest of men does not dwell on the innate absurdity of things. Humour was, however, one of the few gifts which nature had denied to Luis de Leon. He was aware of this himself, to judge from his statement that he had nothing of the jester or scoffer in him.[161] But if Luis de Leon was relatively poor in humour, he had an abundant store of mordant sarcasm and a faculty for ironic banter, as Medina and Castro learned to their chagrin.[162] Pacheco's opinion of Luis de Leon's versatile talent is borne out by the scrap of evidence given at the trial by Francisco de Salinas—the sightless dedicatee of El aire se serena. Salinas bore witness that some of Luis de Leon's admirers were persuaded that he could carry any University chair against all competition.[163] Evidently to those who met him frequently{81} Luis de Leon conveyed the impression of irresistible talent. Though students voted in professorial elections at Salamanca, and supported Luis de Leon loyally, he did nothing to conciliate them, and expressed his opinion of them with unquestionable candour. We gather that he was profoundly attached to the ancient order of things[164] and that, though accused of interpreting the Bible in a rabbinical sense, he had never read a rabbinical book.[165] We learn that among his teachers were Guevara, Mancio, Cipriano, and Melchor Cano;[166] of these he would seem most to have esteemed Cano.[167] With such masters, and being the man he was, Luis de Leon would naturally have got together a good theological library, and he was allowed to have some of his books in his prison-cell; it is but natural that most of his requests should be for theological works which would be of service in preparing his defence on technical points. Reading was his sole solace during his imprisonment, and it is{82} noticeable that, whenever he asks for a book he speaks of it—not with the dry, meticulous precision of a bibliographer but—with all the caressing detail of a genuine book-lover. He indicates the sizes of the various works which he needs, describes their bindings, and mentions in what part of his monastery-cell they will be found. He wants a Vatable with gilt edges, bound in black; it should be found in a case for smaller volumes which lies on his writing-table. He asks for a Bible, printed by Plantin, bound in black leather and fastened with black silk ribbons. He demands a Biblical concordance which is in folio. This lies on a high shelf near the window.[168] He begs to have the works of St. Justin, which will be found in the shelves on the left as you enter his monastery-cell. But not all his requests are for theological works. A true son of the Renaissance, he finds entertainment or instruction in communing with the best of antiquity. When in this mood he asks for his Aristotle bound in{83} sheep's-skin; it will be found in the shelves on the right as you enter the monastery-cell. He would like a Horace and a Virgil—of which there are a great many ('de que hay hartos'), so that he does not particularize. He wants his Homer (in Greek and Latin) bound in sheep's-skin, and with red edges; it will be found in the shelves where the works of St. Justin are.[169] Again, besides the works of St. Leo, bound in parchment, he asks for his Sophocles in black calf; for a Pindar (in Greek and Latin), bound partly in black leather, with gilt edges; and for Le prose dil Bembo, a volume in small quarto with a parchment binding.[170] This throws light on Luis de Leon's progress as a linguist. An imprisoned man who asks for an Italian book to becalm his fever may be safely presumed to know that language. In or about 1569 when Arias Montano read aloud the anonymous Italian work which disturbed Zúñiga's scrupulous conscience, Luis de Leon, though of course able to catch the author's drift, did not{84} really know Italian at that time.[171] This deficiency had been made good, as he gives us to understand, previous to March 12, 1573—twenty eight months, or more, before Luis de Leon asked that his copy of Le prose dil Bembo should be given to him in prison.

The record of the Valladolid trial likewise reveals to us some of Luis de Leon's intellectual foibles. But these were extremely few. Towards the end of the proceedings at Valladolid the Inquisitionary judges there summoned before them Juan Galvan, a young theological student who lodged with Salinas, the blind musician. Galvan testified that for about two years he had discussed matters of theology, mathematics, and astrology with Luis de Leon.[172] It may astonish some that Luis de Leon toyed with the pseudo-science of astrology: it cannot have surprised his judges for, on April 18, 1572, while still bewildered as to the cause of his arrest, he had stated to them in writing that he had read a compilation{85} on astrology which had been lent to him by a student named Poza, a licentiate in canon law. Poza seems to have doubted whether he ought to keep such a work, and consulted Luis de Leon on the question. Luis de Leon dipped into the book, and came finally to the conclusion that the whole thing was rubbish. But he found in the work some curious observations, and was tempted to make at least one experiment which involved the use of a pious formula. The owner of the book left Salamanca to avoid an epidemic which was then raging there. Luis de Leon had expected a visit from Poza that day, and had intended to burn the volume in Poza's presence. He carried out the main part of his intention by burning the work in the presence of Fray Bartolomé de Carranza, to whom he explained the meaning of this holocaust. No more was heard of Poza; yet it seems that Luis de Leon's curiosity as to the possibilities of astrology continued with but little abatement.[173] This half-belief in astrology{86} as a kind of black art was widespread during the sixteenth century, and vestiges of this ingenuous credulity have survived in unexpected quarters till our own time. It was perhaps unwise of Luis de Leon thus to furnish his adversaries with ammunition which they might use against him; but could anything bespeak conscious innocence more strongly than his voluntary avowal?

Luis de Leon heaped one indiscretion on another. In his protestations of innocence, he went so far as to suggest to the Court what course it should take. He told the judges plainly that they ought to order Leon de Castro to be prosecuted for perjury.[174] Later on, he declared with vehemence that his detention was without a shadow of legality, that his imprisonment ought not to continue for a single day, and that he ought to be compensated for the injury done him.[175] These may have been truths; but they were decidedly unpalatable, and the expediency of making these assertions to a prejudiced{87} bench is at least doubtful. But expediency was not an arm that Luis de Leon could bring himself to use. He complained again and again of delays, attributing this loss of time to official mismanagement and incidentally reflecting on the competency of the judges. As time went on, and as the prisoner's health grew weaker, he lost patience, making his complaints of delay more frequently and with increasing vehemence.[176] He impressed on his hearers the fundamental absurdity of certain charges against him, and, waxing indignant at the statement that he had thrown doubt on the coming of Christ, he objected to having so senseless a jest fathered on him. There was always the alternative that he might be supposed to have used in earnest the words imputed to him; in which case, even if the evidence on this point were far more decisive than it actually was, 'before believing it, it would be your duty to ascertain whether I had gone out of my mind at the time, or were drunk'.[177] It is, no doubt, difficult{88} to meet a contention of this kind; but such a contention is not calculated to capture the sympathies of a wavering Court. Nor should it be overlooked that the judges were subjected to continual pressure from the attacking parties. The official calificadores took a serious view of Luis de Leon's opinions on the authority of the Vulgate; they showered reports upon the judges; naturally these reports did not always agree with one another, but they were unanimous in one respect; they declared against the teaching of Luis de Leon,[178] and this perhaps decided the tribunal in giving judgement. We may think that the court unconsciously allowed itself to be swayed by personal prejudice against a prisoner who was at no great pains to conceal his estimate of its capacity. However that may be, it must be admitted that the decision of the Court had behind it a great body of what may be called expert opinion. The question of the authority due to the Vulgate was skilfully kept in the foreground; and the{89} report of even so liberal-minded a man as the Dominican Hernando del Castillo was not wholly favourable. Castillo, indeed, came to the conclusion that Luis de Leon had uttered nothing against faith; but while he acquitted the prisoner of teaching 'erroneous, temerarious or scandalous doctrine', he held that Luis de Leon was much to blame for dealing with the question when and where he did.[179] The opinion of other calificadores was still more hostile, though it is to be noted that their hostility diminished as time went on and the hour for the delivery of a decision drew near.[180]

That decision had at last to be given. It had been put off year after year. This series of postponements—ordered, despite the wishes of the prisoner and (as he contended) against his interests—had got on to Luis de Leon's nerves, had led to occasional moods of depression, and had betrayed him into a few irritable or intemperate outbursts. But these results were unintentional. The Valladolid judges{90} were well aware from the outset that no time was to be lost. As early as July 29, 1572, they delegated a piece of work to one of their commissaries in Salamanca, and impressed on him the urgency of dispatch.[181] They secured from Benito Rodriguez, the commissary in question, greater speed than they attained themselves. This may have been due to accident, or to incompetence on their part. But the policy of continual adjournment could not be prolonged for ever. It had lasted too long for the patience of the Supreme Inquisition:[182]

...even the weariest river

Winds somewhere safe to sea.



On September 28, 1576, a vote was taken on Luis de Leon's case. Seven members at least were present: Francisco de Menchaca, Andrés de Álava, Luis Tello Maldonado, and Francisco de Albornoz voted that Luis de Leon should be put to the torture—a moderate amount of torture in view of his frail health—and, when this was done, the court should sit{91} again and determine accordingly. Dr. Guijano de Mercado and Dr. Frechilla took a more lenient view, recommending that, in consideration of the more exculpatory reports recently given by the calificadores, in consideration also of the replies made by the prisoner and by Mancio, Luis de Leon should be reprimanded for dealing with so grave a matter (as the authority of the Vulgate) at an unsuitable time, before an unsuitable audience; that he should be called upon to renounce publicly certain views which seemed ambiguous; that he should be told by his bishop to occupy himself with matters of general interest; that he should cease lecturing altogether; and that his Song of Solomon, done into Spanish, should be seized. The Licentiate Pedro de Castro undertook to give his decision in writing.[183] It may not have been committed to paper: at any rate, it does not appear in the record. Even the milder judgement of Guijano and Frechilla seemed excessive to the Supreme Inquisition, which curtly{92} ordered its deputies at Valladolid to acquit Luis de Leon, to reprimand him and warn him to be more careful in future, and to confiscate the manuscript copy of his Spanish version of the Song of Solomon.[184] These orders, dated at Madrid on December 7, 1576, were, of course, obeyed.[185] As the senior member of the Court, Dr. Guijano gave the reprimand to which Luis de Leon listened, standing up while it was pronounced.[186] The date is not stated, but it cannot have been later than December 15, 1576; for on this day Luis de Leon applied in writing for an official certificate of acquittal, and for an order on the accountant of Salamanca University instructing that officer to pay him arrears of salary from the date of his arrest till his chair was vacated owing to the lapse of his four years' tenure.[187] Both applications were granted. But the Ethiopian cannot change his skin, and it was not till August 13, 1577, that the petitioner received full satisfaction.[188]{93}

III

IV

When did Luis de Leon return to Salamanca, and how was he received there? According to an anonymous contemporary, whom Gallardo conjectured to be a Jesuit, Luis de Leon made a sort of triumphal entry into Salamanca, accompanied by a procession which marched along to the sound of timbrels and trumpets.[189] This procession is alleged to have taken place in the afternoon of December 30, 1576; but, as the statement is made by one who has no divine idea of a date,[190] it would be imprudent to rely on his unsupported authority in this particular. The date of the procession may be doubtful. There is no reason to doubt the general accuracy of the assertion that there was some public manifestation of joy at Luis de Leon's release.[191] Though he was not popular, his fellow-citizens were proud of him, and there is {146}a natural tendency to show sympathy with a man who has been hardly used. But life is not made up of triumphal processions. On December 31[192] Luis de Leon met the Claustro of the University, which had been duly informed of his acquittal. After congratulatory phrases from the Rector, the released man was invited to speak. According to the decree of the Inquisition, Luis de Leon was entitled to claim restitution to his University chair. There were practical difficulties in the way. Luis de Leon's tenure had lapsed while he was in prison at Valladolid; his immediate successor had been Bartolomé de Medina, a dangerous enemy, and the chair was subsequently occupied by the Benedictine Fray Garcia del Castillo, another declared opponent who had intervened at an early stage of the case. Luis de Leon renounced all claim, present or future, to his former chair—que la daba por bien empleada—so long as it was held by Castillo. He besought the Claustro to bear in mind his past services, pointed {147}out that his acquittal implied a general approval of his teaching, and then left the meeting.[193] Finally the Claustro of Salamanca agreed to create a new chair for Luis de Leon, with a salary of two hundred ducats a year, his duty being to lecture on theology.[194]

We now come to the best-known trait in Luis de Leon's career. He would seem to have begun lecturing in his new chair on January 29, 1577.[195] The gathering was large, and now and here—if at any time and in any place—he must have begun his lecture with the famous phrase: 'As we were saying yesterday' (Dicebamus hesterna die). Almost everybody who hears the story for the first time takes it for granted that the remark was made to what was left of Luis de Leon's old class—the class which he had been instructing just previous to his arrest: otherwise, the anecdote loses great part of its point. It behoves us therefore to examine the circumstances in which the story was first made public. The earliest mention of {148}the incident occurs apparently in the Monasticon Augustinianum by the once well-known Nicolaas Cruesen, whose work appeared at Munich in 1623.[196] The picturesque narrative soon struck the popular imagination, and it has been repeated times innumerable.[197] One is always reluctant to part with a good tale, but there is no denying the fact that the evidence in favour of the current version is slighter than one could wish it to be. The silence of all contemporary Spaniards with respect to this episode is not a little strange. It is singular that the anecdote should reach Spain from abroad, and that it should not be printed till forty-six years after it is supposed to have occurred; that is to say, till Luis de Leon had been thirty-two years in his grave. It does not necessarily follow that the story is untrue. Nobody imagines that Cruesen deliberately invented it. So far as appears, Cruesen was an absolutely upright man who recorded with fidelity such information as he could obtain. He was not ill-placed for obtaining i{149}nformation. Himself an Augustinian, he was something of a cosmopolitan. Though Flemish by blood, Cruesen was technically a Spanish subject; he was in full sympathy with the politico-religious aims of Spain in the Low Countries, and during the Spanish occupation he must have had opportunities of meeting and questioning men who were Spanish by race. Moreover, it seems to be established that, though the story concerning Luis de Leon's remark did not appear in print till 1623, the chapter containing it was written previous to 1612.[198] If this be so, the account given by Cruesen must be dated thirty-five years after the alleged occurrence and twenty-one years after Luis de Leon's death. Further, Cruesen, who knew Spanish, travelled in Spain. There he seems to have made the acquaintance of Fray Basilio Ponce de Leon, Luis de Leon's able and admiring nephew. It is by no means impossible that Fray Basilio was Cruesen's informant,[199] and, if this were proved, the case for the {150}story would be greatly strengthened, since it is inconceivable that the nephew should repeat the anecdote, for the purposes of publication, unless he had had it direct from his famous uncle. These, however, are conjectures, more or less probable. The story may derive from Fray Basilio Ponce de Leon or it may not. It is the kind of story that any unscrupulous person might easily invent and repeat to a too credulous visitor. As it stands, the evidence in its support is, on the face of it, unsatisfactory. The case for the story is perhaps not quite so weak as has been supposed;[200] ingenuity has shown that the case against it may, to some extent, be frittered away.[201] Still, there is no getting over the fact that this charming anecdote is first reported outside of Spain by a foreigner who related it in print long after Luis de Leon's death. No first-hand testimony in its favour has hitherto been produced. Those who choose to believe in the authenticity of the current version may not unreasonably do so; it is obvious, {151}however, that, in the absence of direct evidence, they will have great difficulty in persuading others to share their belief.

To return to prosaic details. The Claustro had promptly created a chair for Luis de Leon after his release from prison; there was more ado about granting his request—made on the ground of health—that he should be allowed to lecture from ten till eleven o'clock. Unluckily, this time had been already allotted to the Dean of the Theological Faculty, Diego Rodriguez, a Dominican, who objected to the proposal. Bartolomé de Medina not unnaturally stood by his brother-Dominican, opposed the demand of the newly elected professor on the ground that it could not be granted without showing disrespect to the Dean, and suggested that Luis de Leon should be instructed to lecture from four to five o'clock. On a vote being taken, the Claustro gave Luis de Leon a majority; but, as the Rector of the University claimed to be the deciding authority on such questions, the matter {152}was not finally decided at this meeting.[202] It might seem that, in practice, Luis de Leon carried his point for, as the clock struck ten on January 29, 1577, he began his first lecture in his new post; but this was mainly a formal taking possession of the post, and the professor in his fragmentary lecture took occasion to protest against not having a lecture hour assigned to him.[203] Luis de Leon continued to occupy the chair that had been created for him. The death of Francisco Sancho, bishop of Segorbe, in June 1578 caused a vacancy in the university chair of Moral Philosophy. Luis de Leon determined to present himself as a candidate. A rival candidate came forward in the person of Fray Francisco Zumel, Rector of the Mercenarian College. The struggle was vehement. Zumel did not stick at trifles; he charged his opponent with exercising undue pressure on the electors by means of cajolery, threats, lavish hospitality (which was dispensed with the aid of brother-Augustinians), {153}bribery, and attempted personal violence.[204] Luis de Leon was not behindhand: he sought to have Zumel disqualified on technical grounds, and further accused his opponent of breaking the law governing elections. In the heat of conflict, the very best of men seem able to persuade themselves that the most extravagant assertions are true. No one but the candidates can have taken these amenities seriously. When the battle was ended on August 14, 1578, Luis de Leon, who received 301 votes, was in a majority of seventy-nine.[205] This check appears to have rankled in Zumel's mind. Luis de Leon celebrated his success by taking the degree of Master of Arts on October 11. Why? It is hard to say. He cannot well have thought that the possession of a Master's degree would strengthen his position as one of the members representing the University of Salamanca on the Committee appointed to report on the projected reform of the calendar.[206] Normally this Committee, {154}of which Medina and Domingo Bañez were also members, would have absorbed much of Luis de Leon's attention. His energies were to be otherwise exercised in the immediate future. The death of Gregorio Gallo, Bishop of Segovia, on September 25, 1579, caused a vacancy in the Biblical chair at Salamanca. The late bishop had viewed with no very friendly eyes some of Luis de Leon's proceedings before the Valladolid trial,[207] and it might have troubled him to think that Luis de Leon was destined to follow him at Salamanca. That, however, was what happened. The position was not carried without a stiff fight. At Valladolid, Salinas had said it was commonly thought by some of Luis de Leon's admirers that he could carry any University chair—especially a chair of Scripture—against all comers.[208] It was now to be seen whether this opinion was, or was not, well founded. A formidable competitor appeared in the person of Fray Domingo de Guzman, the third son {155}of Garcilasso de la Vega. Though Guzman had not inherited his father's poetic gift, he had a turn for versifying, and his burlesque glosa of Luis de Leon's celebrated quintillas—

Aqui la envidia y mentira

me tuvieron encerrado—



is not wholly forgotten, since four lines of it find a resounding echo in Cervantes' preliminary verses at the beginning of Don Quixote to Urganda la Desconocida.[209] But the relative merits of the two candidates for the vacant chair were not the point at issue. More relevant was the fact that Guzman was a Dominican with all the strength of the massed Dominican vote at his back. Whatever may have been the case at other times and places, at this period there was no love lost between Dominicans and Augustinians in Salamanca. Medina represented with distinction the more rigid teaching of the Dominican school; with at least equal distinction Luis de Leon represented the freer tendencies of the Augustinians. He {156}was almost imprudently loyal to his own order. He publicly championed Augustinian candidates whenever a suitable chair became vacant at the University of Salamanca, and, despite the secrecy enjoined by the Inquisition, it had probably leaked out that, at his recent trial in Valladolid, he had repeatedly objected to all Dominicans as being so many enemies. In the nature of things he could not be popular with the Dominicans and their sympathizers. In this particular contest, however, his great personal qualities were somewhat overclouded. He and Domingo de Guzman were but standard-bearers. The conflict in which they were engaged resolved itself into a struggle for supremacy between two potent religious orders. Apart from the personal merits of the respective candidates, the forces marshalled on each side were about equal. Passions ran high. Poetasters on both sides did their part.[210] It speedily became evident that the margin of the successful candidate would be narrow.{157} This prevision proved to be correct. When the poll was declared on December 6, 1579, Luis de Leon's total of votes amounted to 285, giving him a majority of thirty-six over his opponent.[211] Since he stood against Grajal, and was defeated, at the very outset of his professorial career, he had hardly ever been so pressed in any academic struggle. Unfortunately, in the contest against Guzman there was some irregularity in the voting; each side accused the other of malpractices; an appeal was lodged on behalf of Domingo de Guzman; for some unknown reason the case was not decided till over twenty-two months later. Finally, on October 13, 1581, judgement was delivered in favour of Luis de Leon at Valladolid.[212] The equity of this decision has been questioned;[213] but there is no reason to doubt the substantial justice of the verdict given by a court with all the facts before it, and with the opportunity of cross-examining the witnesses who appeared to give evidence.{158} It should be said, however, that the Dominicans never accepted the official decision, and put about a rumour that the irregularity had been committed by a supporter of Luis de Leon's—a supporter who (so it was alleged) some twenty years later avowed his transgression and sought to make amends for it by paying a sum of 8,000 reales into the Dominican chest.[214] Meanwhile Luis de Leon (who, like Domingo de Guzman, was perfectly innocent of any share in these clandestine manœuvres) had taken possession of the Biblical Chair at Salamanca by reading himself in on December 7, 1579. Hitherto his reputation, great as it was, had been more or less local: that is to say, it depended mainly on his University lectures, which were exploited by certain unscrupulous persons. It was not till 1580 that, at the express command of his superior, Fray Pedro Suarez,[215] he issued his first book: a Latin commentary on the Song of Songs. On the title-page stood a characteristic motto from his favourite H{159}orace: ab ipso ferro. Possibly at this moment Luis de Leon looked forward to a period of learned leisure:

O ya seguro puerto

de mi tan luengo error! o deseado

para reparo cierto

del grave mal pasado,

reposo dulce, alegre, reposado!



If the author of this opening stanza of Al apartamiento were optimistic enough to assume that these verses might be applied to his own case, he was destined to be speedily disillusioned.

The Valladolid Inquisitors had not treated him in such fashion as to make him desirous of meeting them again. This experience was, however, awaiting him.[216] On January 20 or 21, 1582,[217] his former opponent, the Mercenarian Fray Francisco Zumel, took the chair at a theological meeting in Salamanca. At this meeting a Jesuit named Prudencio de Montemayor put forward a thesis which opened up the difficulties connected with the reconciliation of the theological doctrines {160}of predestination and free-will. Owing to some disturbance in the assembly, Montemayor's voice did not reach all who were present and, in the interest of the audience, Luis de Leon repeated Montemayor's arguments without lending them any support; his action was misunderstood, and many supposed that he was expressing his personal opinions. In the ensuing discussion his vanquished opponent, Domingo de Guzman, intervened, and with unnecessary acerbity declared that Montemayor's views were heretical. Nothing would have been easier than for Luis de Leon to keep out of the fray, especially as he himself held, and had always taught, opinions opposed to those advanced by Montemayor. If, as Pacheco reports, Luis de Leon was the most taciturn of men, he was chivalrous to t