Angel del Rio and the Literature of Ideas

Abstract

Standing on the south side of 117th Street, I look across at the entrance to the Casa de las Espafias-the Casa Hispainica if you prefer-also the entrance to a new phase of my career. Summer session is about to begin, and so is my pursuit of a Ph.D. (Summer in New Yorkremember the song? It takes me back to this scene.) My instructions advise me to consult Professor Federico de Onis with reference to my classes for the session. It turns out to be a very simple procedure because he advises me to enroll in the courses that are available. One of them is his own course on Spanish-American political literature, another is Professor Angel del Rio's course on the Spanish novel-la novela espaniola, a secas-no chronological or subgeneric boundaries. Years later, I think about the heavy intellectual challenge; at the time, I am too excited even to notice. In Professor del Rio's class, we are handed lists of suggested reading, some fifty novels that cover the centuries. Fortunately, I have read some of them as an M.A. candidate, and I eagerly attack the others. But the list of novels is the lesser of two attractions; the other is the professor himself. Even during this first class I am mesmerized by his control of the material, the organization of his presentation, the clarity of his explanation. And my amazement continues as the days, and classes, go by. A Puerto Rican poet, sitting behind me, asks, somewhat testily, if I never take notes. I answer reassuringly, but remark to myself that, while listening so intently, I probably am not writing as much as I should. Later, during regular academic session, when I am taking courses in nineteenth-century Spanish literature and then twentieth-century Spanish literature, both taught by Professor del Rio, the situation changes slightly. Now that he has ample blackboard space, his lectures are punctuated by a beautifully organized written outline (the best notes I ever took are based on these written/oral presentations). They fill out, supplement, define the panorama provided by the novel course, and involve me deeply in del Rio's understanding of the function of literature. Several phenomena, impressive at the time, remain as memories of the learning process: Gald6s' comprehensive vision of Spanish society, the often corrosive humor of Larra's observations, Unamuno's belief in a spiritual (rather than political) revitalization of Spain, and-this most of allkrausismo, which was entirely new to me. In a different chronological context1996, more than a half-century later-I think about del Rio's ideas, looking for some kind of synthesis. A sequential relationship between krausismo and Unamuno is reasonable, but something seems to be missing. I add Jovellanos, not because he appeared in the courses I took, but rather because of del Rio's high regard for this eighteenth-century intellectual as representative of Spanish enciclopedismo. So a minimal sequence comes to mind: Jovellanos to krausismo to Unamuno (maybe with the addition of Ganivet). I hesitate to substitute a person's name for krausismo, because del Rio consistently separates its metaphysical aspect from the educational, naming Sanz del Rio in connection with the former, and Giner de los Rios (followed by Cossio) in the latter. In his Historia de literatura espafiola (Holt, Rinehart, Winston, 1948, 1963), del Rio associates Jovellanos' character with the restrained quality of the Enlightenment in Spain (as contrasted with the French), when he writes of la templanza de su espiritu conciliador (1: 52). This conciliatory spirit enabled Jovellanos to look ahead toward the modern without rejecting tradition. Such a dual vision is apparent in del Rio's own thought and can be appreciated especially in his introduction to the anthology of essays entitled El concepto contem-