This spiritual essence you are searching for constitutes the core of the Spanish character (at least as it existed before modernity). The 'soul' of Spain during these classical periods is primarily characterized by its duality. There is a Spanish proverb that encapsulates this: 'La locura es la mitad de la razón española' — folly is half of Spanish reason.
Unamuno noted that every Spaniard has elements of both Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Idealism coexists with realism. This duality is also evident in Lope de Vega's theater: aristocrats perform their serious roles while, alongside them, the buffoons, or 'graciosos,' present these roles in a comic light. The great figures of Spanish history embody this intense duality, a profound tension between contradictions.
In Catalonia, in the Poblet Monastery, the sarcophagi of kings of Aragon feature two effigies: in one, they are depicted as kings; in the other, they are dressed in monk's habits. Charles V, who reigned over an empire on which the sun never set, withdrew to a monastery in Extremadura at the peak of his power. He staged his own funeral while still alive, as a form of spiritual exercise. Pope believed he had lost his sanity. Voltaire, a known adversary of the Church, later made the same judgement. After a life of debauchery, the historical Don Juan retired to a monastery and took care of the sick. Spanish history is replete with fates that stretch between two extremes.
You don’t mention Clarín. Does he not suggest at one point in the play that although they call him a jester, he could well be a king himself?
You describe this vision of life as horrifying. Maurice Legendre in his book 'Portrait d'Espagne' notes that there is no character more Spanish in literature than Segismundo, who goes from misery to royalty, ceases to be a king and then becomes one again, ultimately proving to be a good ruler, contrary to Basilio's astrological predictions.
I find the belief that no prediction can decipher human destiny to be reassuring, rather than destabilizing. This conviction fosters great confidence in life, regardless of the form it currently takes.
Unamuno argues in an essay about Don Quixote that the common belief that Spaniards live in a cult of death and are detached from life is mistaken. To say that life is a dream is not the same as saying that all is vanity.
William James writes, 'It is not the Jews of the captivity, but those from the days of Solomon's glory, who are the source of the pessimistic statements in our Bible.' The intensity and variability of life, as experienced in a dream, do not permit rest, leading to a continuous struggle which, as Unamuno suggests, fosters an attachment to life. It is, in fact, satiety that breeds the sensation that life is empty and vain.
And isn’t the moral with which Calderón's play ends optimistic? Whether life is a dream or not, a good deed remains a good deed.
I hope this makes sense. I’ve carried these thoughts with me for years, since my early 20s, when I traveled around Spain. I never thought these reflections would be useful to anyone, but I hope they are at least somewhat helpful. If you’d like to discuss this further, here’s my email: krzysztof.tyszka.drozdowski@gmail.com
Having said that, I confess my mind is stuck on one throwaway line from the piece:
you didn't like The Matrix??!!
The Matrix sequels are certainly eminently missable. And I can see one concluding that the whole concept is a little silly with too many plot holes and a pseudo-profound "philosophy" that is only skin deep.
But even granting all that, how does one not like the original? The fast paced and inventive plot, the visual elan, the genuine tension that builds in so many scenes, the actors that really embody their roles, but most of all the whole sheer badassery of it all.
Now, I'm curious what you think about Pulp Fiction? On one level, the two films are nothing alike, but I feel like Pulp Fiction does with dialog what The Matrix does with visuals and that they share a kind of pseudo-depth that doesn't really matter because of their sheer inventive exuberance.
This spiritual essence you are searching for constitutes the core of the Spanish character (at least as it existed before modernity). The 'soul' of Spain during these classical periods is primarily characterized by its duality. There is a Spanish proverb that encapsulates this: 'La locura es la mitad de la razón española' — folly is half of Spanish reason.
Unamuno noted that every Spaniard has elements of both Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Idealism coexists with realism. This duality is also evident in Lope de Vega's theater: aristocrats perform their serious roles while, alongside them, the buffoons, or 'graciosos,' present these roles in a comic light. The great figures of Spanish history embody this intense duality, a profound tension between contradictions.
In Catalonia, in the Poblet Monastery, the sarcophagi of kings of Aragon feature two effigies: in one, they are depicted as kings; in the other, they are dressed in monk's habits. Charles V, who reigned over an empire on which the sun never set, withdrew to a monastery in Extremadura at the peak of his power. He staged his own funeral while still alive, as a form of spiritual exercise. Pope believed he had lost his sanity. Voltaire, a known adversary of the Church, later made the same judgement. After a life of debauchery, the historical Don Juan retired to a monastery and took care of the sick. Spanish history is replete with fates that stretch between two extremes.
You don’t mention Clarín. Does he not suggest at one point in the play that although they call him a jester, he could well be a king himself?
You describe this vision of life as horrifying. Maurice Legendre in his book 'Portrait d'Espagne' notes that there is no character more Spanish in literature than Segismundo, who goes from misery to royalty, ceases to be a king and then becomes one again, ultimately proving to be a good ruler, contrary to Basilio's astrological predictions.
I find the belief that no prediction can decipher human destiny to be reassuring, rather than destabilizing. This conviction fosters great confidence in life, regardless of the form it currently takes.
Unamuno argues in an essay about Don Quixote that the common belief that Spaniards live in a cult of death and are detached from life is mistaken. To say that life is a dream is not the same as saying that all is vanity.
William James writes, 'It is not the Jews of the captivity, but those from the days of Solomon's glory, who are the source of the pessimistic statements in our Bible.' The intensity and variability of life, as experienced in a dream, do not permit rest, leading to a continuous struggle which, as Unamuno suggests, fosters an attachment to life. It is, in fact, satiety that breeds the sensation that life is empty and vain.
And isn’t the moral with which Calderón's play ends optimistic? Whether life is a dream or not, a good deed remains a good deed.
I hope this makes sense. I’ve carried these thoughts with me for years, since my early 20s, when I traveled around Spain. I never thought these reflections would be useful to anyone, but I hope they are at least somewhat helpful. If you’d like to discuss this further, here’s my email: krzysztof.tyszka.drozdowski@gmail.com
Noah: I'm a huge fan of your Substack (https://gideons.substack.com/p/cosmopolitanism-is-also-particularism/comments), and this essay is both interesting and obviously deeply personal and heartful. I look forward to seeing your take on Life is a Dream some day.
Having said that, I confess my mind is stuck on one throwaway line from the piece:
you didn't like The Matrix??!!
The Matrix sequels are certainly eminently missable. And I can see one concluding that the whole concept is a little silly with too many plot holes and a pseudo-profound "philosophy" that is only skin deep.
But even granting all that, how does one not like the original? The fast paced and inventive plot, the visual elan, the genuine tension that builds in so many scenes, the actors that really embody their roles, but most of all the whole sheer badassery of it all.
Now, I'm curious what you think about Pulp Fiction? On one level, the two films are nothing alike, but I feel like Pulp Fiction does with dialog what The Matrix does with visuals and that they share a kind of pseudo-depth that doesn't really matter because of their sheer inventive exuberance.