a has been said to be Becquer's most immediate precursor, in
that he possesses the same instinct for the mysterious. But, as Blanco
Garcia observes, "Becquer is less ardent than Zorilla, and preferred
the strange traditions in which some unknown supernatural power hovers
to those others, more probable, in which only human passions with
their caprices and outbursts are involved."[1] Correa says of his
legends that they "can compete with the tales of Hoffmann and of
Grimm, and with the ballads of Rueckert and of Uhland," and that
"however fantastic they may be, however imaginary they may appear,
they always contain such a foundation of truth, a thought so real,
that in the midst of their extraordinary form and contexture a fact
appears spontaneously to have taken place or to be able to take place
without the slightest difficulty, if you but analyze the situation of
the personages, the time in which they live, or the circumstances that
surround them."[2]

[Footnote 1: _La Literatura Espanola en el Siglo XIX_, Madrid, 1891,
vol. II, p. 275.]

[Footnote 2: Correa, _op. cit._, p. xxx.]

The subtle charm of such legends as _Los Ojos Verdes_, _La Corza
Blanca_, _Maese Perez el Organista_, etc., full of local color as they
are, and of an atmosphere of old Spain, is hard to describe, but none
the less real. One is caught by the music of the prose at the first
lines, enraptured by the weird charm of the story, and held in
breathless interest until the last words die away. If Becquer's phrase
is not always classic, it is, on the other hand, vigorous and
picturesque; and when one reflects upon the difficult conditions under
which his writings were produced, in the confusion of the
printing-office, or hurriedly in a miserable attic to procure food for
the immediate necessities of his little family, and when one likewise
recalls the fact that they were published in final book form only
after the author's death, and without retouching, the wonder grows
that they are written in a style so pleasing and so free from
harshness.

Becquer's prose is doubtless at its best in his letters entitled
_Desde mi Celda_, written, as has been said, from the monastery of
Veruela, in 1864. Read his description of his journey to the ancient
Aragonese town of Tarazona, picturesquely situated on the River
Queiles, of his mule trip over the glorious Moncayo, of the
peacefulness and quiet of the old fortified monastery of Veruela, and
you will su