UC-NRLF lib SILYfK StRiCS GIFT OF A PILGRIMAGE TO THE LAND OF THE CID. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH FREDERIC OZANAM, A Graduate of St. Jotejh s % Emmitttburf. NEW YORK: CHRISTIAN PRESS ASSOCIATION PUBLISHING CO., CONTENTS. 285043 PAGE Burgos, . . . . 5 I. The Pyrenees and the Sea, . . 8 IT. Road to St. James, . . . .22 III. The City of Heroes, .... 38 IV. The City of Kiii^s, . . . .81 V. The City of the Virgin, . . . 149 VI. Behobia Bridge. . 185 THE LAND OF THE CID. BURGOS. T was a -favorite devotion of our fathers, to make a pil- grimage to St. James of Compostelio. In the central parts of France, at Poitiers, for instance, the pilgrims to the shrine of St. ' James were sufficiently numerous in the last century to form a confraternity, which had a chapel a short distance from the city, on the road to Spain. Be- fore returning to their homes, these pious travellers always visited 4 the 6 '77ie /luntf.if'le Cid. \ beach where, about* "fouf leagues from Cpmpostello, says the legend, the body of the holy apostle was washed ashore. It was here they collected those large shells that decorated their hats and mantles, and which, when brought home to the children, served as pas- times to friends and neighbors during the long winter evenings. I also dreamed of a pilgrimage to St. Jamt^s. I .rejoiced at the thought of seeing old Christian Spain that free, poor, ne^ glectecl portion of Spain which bears fewest traces of the stranger's foot- steps. There were in store for me - Burgos, the city of Our Lady, the! city of kings and heroes; Oviedo and its valleys, unsullied by the Mussul- 1 man conquest; St. I a go, whose basi-! The Land of the Cid. 7 Iica though despoiled by revolutions^ still retains the majesty of its gigantic architecture. But a Will which con- sults us not arrested my progress at the very first station, and my pilgrim- age ended, not at the tomb of St. James, but in the country of the Cid, Hence I have returned with hands empty of shells, but ailed with those light leaves whereon the traveller has- tily traces his f.rst impressions, vainly promising himself to retouch them later* These are a!! I can offer my friends and neighbors, to help while away their evenings, when, in a spirit of congeniality and Christian harmony, they gather around a common fire- side, despite the blasts and storms without I. THE PYRENEES AND THE SEA. Gavarnie, Aug. 21 Biarritz, Sept. i, 1852. jj.N Italy, and upon t;he. bor- ders of Rhine, my thoughts were distracted by the works of man. Here, where man has done little, I see but the works of God. Truly, God is not only the great legis- lator, the great geometrician, he is also the great artist. Let us not de- spise poetry as the dream of weak imagination, or the pastime of an enervated age, for God himself is the author of all poetrv. He has bound- The Land of the Cid. 9 fully scattered it throughout .creation, and if he decreed that the world- 'vvork of his hands should be good, he also decreed that it should be beau- tiful. What poet has ever conceived, what architect has ever designed, a sanctuary comparable to that which the Eternal has built for himself in the profoundest depths of the Pyrenees, an isolated spot, where he is . adored by herdsmen only? It is called the Circle of Gavarnie. But instead of a circle, represent to yourself the apsis bf a temple, hewn out of rocks two thousand four hundred feet high.; On reaching the base of these prodigious walls, we saw their summits, tinged with the roseate clouds . of a setting feun, which floated around them like i o The Land of the Cui. drapery, and, when the wind had dissi- pated these vapors, the heights of the edifice appeared crowned with eternal snows, under the blue pavilion of the firmament. Around us the voice of cascades moaned like an endless pray- er. Here would I bring the atheist, to see him fall upon his knees, vanquish- ed and enchanted by the grandeur of this unparalleled spectacle. Noth- ing approaches it in sublimity, unless^ perhaps, the chaos through which one passes to reach it. Here eno.nnous rocks, thirty, forty feet high, are piled up in indescribable magnificence from the summit of the mountain to the depths of the precipice, where roars the Gave. We might easily imagine this the scene of that combat The Land of the Cid* \\ by Milton when good and evil spirits, contending, tore up the hills to hurl upon on*e another. But sights like these are rarer in the Pyrenees than the Alps. The Pyrenees have not the sublime horrors of a Mont Blanc; they have more elegance than majesty. Their chief beauties are the valley of Ossau, the valley of Argeles, and the Bridge of Spain. There are few gla- ciers, but lauo-himr hillocks which kiss o o the limpid waters, sloping heights crowned with verdure, peaks towering towards heaven with marvellous grace, theii crests of rose-tinted granite lost in the effulgence of a mid-day sun. Nowhere do we see more beautiful waters. They are not, it is true, the famed lakes of Switzerland; but Swiu- I 2 The Land of the Cid. erland can boast of no such cascades; where our fathers trod less securely than ourselves. All the caprices of the Renaissance have decorated the Castle of Pau ; and the Ogive art has, never perhaps achieved more harmoni- ous or beautifully lighted naves than those of the Cathedral at Bayonne* In this corner of the 'world there are two historic antique peoples, the Bear- nais and the Basques. On their fes- tival days, especially, should we visit these Bearnais, who glory in having remained " pure, faithful, and courteous." Whilst the surrounding provinces gradually submitted to the ignominy of the' blouse and pantaloons, these peas- ants of the valley of Ossau scrupu- 14 The Land of the Cid. lously adhered to the costume of their ancestors the women still wearing the capulet, which so gracefully veils their modest heads ; the men the berret, the scarlet vest, the bright ginJH the short breeches and gaiters all investing their wearers .with an air of sprightly ease. Never have I seen men more nimble at the dance, as the musician, en- throned upon the heights of a barrel, executes a melancholy, mo-notonous air upon a species of guitar, the four strings of which he strikes with a tampon, reminding us of the cithara and the plectrum of the ancients. Neither have I sc^en men more recol- lected in the procession ; and I sha!) never forget the two long lines of mountaineers who, upon the Eve of The Land of the Cid. 15 the Assumption, slowly defiled upon Laruns Square, measuring their steps to the chant of hymns. I admired especially the dignified, majestic ap- pearance of the old men, tall and straight as the pines of their native forests, and wearing those graceful mantles which are now seldom or never seen, except in pictures or the Middle Ages. Behind them came the Mayor and his assistants, habited like peasants, and with the official scarf- fastened over their purple doublet. They are faithful rulers, we are as- sured, as skilful in meting out justice as in hunting the wild beasts of the mountain ; and their fine open counte- nances, shaded by long hair, were trud types of this noble, ingenuous race. 1 6 7 *ke La nd of ilte Cid. The' Basque people have more gravity and less grace. It is certainly a pleasing spectacle to witness a match game of tennis between the youths of two cap- tons or villages, each side contending most spiritedly for the victory. The elders are constituted judges ; and why should I conceal the fact that snugly stowed away in some cool retreat is the bottle, that unfailing counsellor in difficult cases? But still more zeal- ously does each village strive to ex- cel in the care of its cemetery ; this place of mourning is planted thick with rose-bushes ; a neglected grave is seldom seen ; and no one en- ters the church without having first knelt upon the tomb of his ancestors to pray. Veneration for the dead is The Land of the Cid. 1 7 the mark of a healthful, moral race, clinging tenderly to ; its heritage ol family pride and tradition. Every \ ear, about a hundred of the Basques, tempted by the beautiful vessels an chored at Bayonne or the Passage emigrate to America to make thei fortunes; but when enriched, they hasten homeward, sending out a younger brother to the same colonies, themselves quietly settling down in their native place, and decorating with their gifts the church, under whose shadow they will one day sleep be- side their ancestors. Is it astonishing that these people religiously retain the language of their country, that their priests and learned men watch over it as a sacred fire, and that the 1 8 Tlie Land of the Cid. Basques of our day still speak the idiom of the old Iberians, those fore- fathers of the Germans and Celts, and one of the first peoples who left Babel to seek a westward course? The mountains are all divine. They bear the imprint of the Hand that formed them. But what shall I say of the sea, or, rather, what shall I not say of it? Its grandeur strikes us at once ; but we must contemplate it a long time ere recognizing that other ingredient of beauty which it pos- sesses grace. Homer understood this, and, though peopling ocean with terri- ble gods and monsters, he also made it the abode of nymphs and enchanting sirens, I have seen daylight die upon the Gulf of Gascogne, the sun sink- Tke Land of the ( id. 19 ing behind the Cantabrian mountains, whose bold outlines were clearly de- fined against a sky of purest azure. A golden, luminous mist, floating over the waters, laved the mountains' feet, whilst the never-resting surge, tinted azure, green, lilac, rose, or purple died away upon the sand, or dallied with the rocks, which scattered the white forim, just where the decomposed light assumed the varied hues of the rainbow. Sheafs of spray arose into the air with all the elegance of those artificial jets which decorate the gar- dens of kings, and here, in the do- mains of God, these sports are eternal* Each day they recommence ; each day they vary according to the strength of the winds and height of the tide. 2O The Land of the Cid. But these same waves, so caressing now. have hours of wrath, when, li; c the horses of the Apocalypse, they seem unchained, and their wlrte squadrons are banded together in re- iterated attacks upon the dismantled cliffs defending the shore. Then, too, are heard terrible noises, as of the voice of the abyss demanding the prey snatched from it in the days of the deluge. Whilst the shore is thus ani- mated by ever changing scenes, the eye feasts upon that image of the In- finite, the open sea, immutable and boundless now as when the land was not, and the spirit of God moved upon the waters. David had admired this spectacle too, and perhaps from the heights of Carmel his glance embraced The Land of the Cid. 2 \ the restless expanse of the Mediterra- nean, when he exclaimed with fervor, " Wonderful are the surges of the sea ! " Mirabiles elationes marts. All this may seem very solemn for the beginning- of a journey; but we rmist not forget that a pilgrimage ever commences with a psalm. II. RD AD TO ST. JAMES'. Fontarabia, Nov. 16 Miranda on the Ebro, Nov. 17. JNE mild morning, the i6th of November, we crossed the Bidassoa and flew past the Isle of Pheasants. It is here the Peace of the Pyrenees was signed, and though now half submerged by the gradually- encroaching waters, neither France nor Spain has ever lifted a hand to its rescue. Our route lay along the Guipuzgoa. On one side arose the abrupt peaks, the woody declivities, and the cultivated hills The Land of the Cid. 25 connecting the Pyrenees with the As turias, whilst, on the other, at frequent intervals, we caught glimpses of the sea. Its magnificent scenery, its salu- brious air, its verdure, still fresh and lively at a season so far advanced, make the country a terrestrial paradise 1 , but a paradise stained with blood by the passions of men, as we readily perceive from the yet distant view of Fontarabia's castle and dismantled bas- tions. Let us not dream of slighting this small but valiant city. We enter it as is fitting one should enter Spain by ruins, through crumbling ram- parts and a tottering gate. Stretching out before us is a street, the most Spanish this side of Toledo, all bor- dered with ancient houses, with their 24 The Land of the Cid. balconies, their galleries, their lattice? whence the ladies within see and are seen, their doors bearing armorial de- vices. At the end of this street arise two noble edifices, the castle of Charles V., whose dark cyclopean mass has been grazed by many a bullet, and the church, which alone remains intact in the midst of this dilapidated city, as if reminding us that the God of ruins is also the God of resurrections. But Fontarabia does not sleep amidst her desolation. The sardine fishers here form a numerous class proud of the purity of their blood and the chastity of their daughters ; and the palaces are not mere deserted ruins, but ruins re- sounding with the joyous sounds of life and happiness. The Land of the Cid. 25 A few miles from Fontarabia the cliffs along the coast open, and with the receding hills help form the port of the Passage that Gibraltar of the north, which will be to regenerated Spain a secure harbor for her re- constructed navv. We have now reached the rich village of Rente- ria, whose fruitful apple orchards are worthy of a Normandy farm. From thence a long causeway brings us to the gates of St. Sebastian. What more picturesque and beautiful spot than this city at the foot of the mountain, and enclosed upon three sides by the sea ? Why should those old Biscayan habitations, burned and razed by the English, ever have given place to these monotonous streets, laid 26 The Laud of the Cid. cut with the precision of a cord, and every house presenting the same jaundiced front? Wholly detached irom this perspective are the two churches of the Blessed Virgin and St. Vincent, their lofty arches reposing" upon elegant pillars of the Renais- sance. St. Vincent already possesses one of those magnificent altar-pieces which constitute the boast of Spanish churches, and which, reaching to the very roof, are a religious epic of pic- tures, a paradise of sculptures. Nor can I forget the market-place, anima- ted by groups of vigorous men, and women with long plaits reaching to their heels. Here the fruits of the country and wines in leathern bottles are brought in upon ox- teams whose The Land of the Cid. 2 7 solid spokeless wheels are no bad representation of the chariots of Ala- ric and Attila. As the alguazil makes his rounds among the arcades, all dressed in black, the tri-cornerecl hat upon his head, a mantle upon his shoulders, knee-breeches decorating his extremities, he might easily be mis- taken for an officer of the Holy In- quisition. On leaving St. Sebastian, we turn our faces from the sea, and soon en- ter a valley like those of the Lower Pyrenees, still verdant, and watered by a rapid stream. Here we find the same Basque people with its industry and activity. Not a foot of ground upon these heights is lost, and the villages are not only numerous but 28 The Land of the Cid. well-built. Here we see a rope-walk or a forge; there, the house of a re- turned emigrant who, having made his* fortune in America, is henceforth styled the Indian. The large town of To- losa marks the first round of this giant's ladder we are about to ascend. Beyond, the country grows less smil- ing, the route more rugged, yet our mules speed along at a fine pace. Who has not heard of the Spanish teams, of the long line of mules har- nessed two by two, and which the mayoral, from his elevated seat, man- ages both dextrously and boldly ? not, however, without animating them by a continued conversation, by flattering names and pathetic cries : " Brava, Capitana ! Adelante, Catalana ! Ani- The Land of the Cid 29 mo, Pastora ! " So vigorous were the gestures and voice that Pa^tora fel upon his side, and was raised only by repeated blows of the whip. O coun- try of Garcilaso and Montemayor classic land of eclogue ! how can you bear such profanation of the names of your shepherdesses? At last, our awkward nags were reinforced by oxen, and we made the rude passage of Salinas. Night veils the flourish- ing city of Vitoria, and day surprises us at Miranda on the Ebro, upon the frontiers of old Castile. We might easily imagine ourselves upon the frontiers of Siberia. We must figure Spain to ourselves as an immense mountain, whose base is plunged in hot or tepid waters, and jo T/ie Land of the Cid. . whose summit is a vast plain, furrow- ed in turn by other mountains. This plateau forms the two Castiles, Estra- madura, and La Mancha, elevated two thousand feet above the ocean, and devoured, in turn, by sultry suns and freezing blasts. The Spaniards say, " Six months hell and six months winter." The latter season had com- .menced, and instead of the warm breezes which yesterday caressed the Bay of Biscay, we now felt the breath of snow and frosts. The landscape was chill and gloomy. On the east, as far as the eye could reach, a naked country devoid of trees and bare of crops ; to the west, two mountain chains, whose dark and rug- ged profiles were traced against a 77/6' Land of the Cid. 31 i cloudy sky; at our feet, the Ebro, rolling its waters with the rapidity of a torrent, and at both ends of the bridge which crosses this river the streets of Miranda, narrow, miserable, and choked with filth and rags. The church of St. Nicholas with its Roman arch, its low and humble nave, its dimly-lighted windows, recalls most forcibly that period of Spanish history when the Christians, poor and few in number, less occupied with building than battling, still disputed this spot of earth with the infidels. Groups of animated figures relieved the monotony of the scene. Herds- men, habited in sheepskins, and driv- ing before them those migratory flocks which annuallv descend from the Sierra 32 The Land o the Cid. Nevada to the Pyrenees ; muleteers, with their glittering girdles and em- broidered vests, a gaudily -colored wool- len wrapping thrown over their shoul- ders ; beggars, draped in their tatters, with less grace but more pride than the Italians. These people bear not the slightest resemblance to those of the Basque provinces. We are now in the midst of a brave and original) but poverty-stricken, indolent race Castilians noble as the king, and too proud to lift a hand if they have but bread " the good old Castilians/' Cas- tellanos rancios y viejos. The first glimpse of the country is not at all enchanting. Here those two mountain-chains, bounding the eastern and western horizon, approach and en- The Land of the Cid. 33 close our route between two walls of solid rocks, whose summits appear as if rent asunder by a thunderbolt. Thi.s is the gorge of Pancorbo, tinted with the blood of the infidels in the ninth century. The ruins of a castle over- look the desolated town. One mijjht -> easily imagine war to have passed but lately over these ruined villages, these houses without windows, often without doors, though built of immense stones, as if to sustain a siege. Yet this melancholy, dangerous road was the one most frequented by French or Jtalian pilgrims to St. James of Com- postello. How many miserable human beings have journeyed hither in tears, seeking the remission of their sins, the healing of a malady, the deliver- 34 The Land of Jie Lid. ance of a captive! and through what perils, when Saracen bands scoured the country, and encroaching waters de- stroyed the bridges and crossings. \Vq read in the legend of St. Bonne, a virgin of Pisa, that on one occasion, making a ; pilgrimage to St. James! with a large number of the faithful, reunited by ( a common danger, she stopped on .reaching the banks of 3 torrent, the bridge over which was too unsafe to cross. " Lift up your arms towards heaven, and pass over/' said Christ, appearing to the saint. As she set foot upon the tottering beams; all her companions exclaimed in ter- s ror: "Oh! trust it not; you will surely; be drowned!" But at that moment a 1 multitude of saints descended from The Land of tlie Cid. 35 heaven ; popes, bishops, with mitre and all the insignia of their sacerdotal ank, ranged themselves each side of the bridge, whilst the pilgrim crossed in safety. When she had gained the other side, Christ spoke to lier again, Land of t lie Cid. 41 that, in 884, a Christian chief, Diegb Porcellos, having defeated the Sara- cens in the gorges of Pancorbo, built this enclosure for the protection of the women, children, and booty, and gave it the Germanic appellation Burgos (bvrg, castle). This son of the Goths wished to ally his race with the blood of the North, and his daughter, Sulla Bella, married a German nobleman who had come hither on a pilgrimage to St. James of Compostello, but who remained for the pious purpose of combating the infidel. From this union descended, though in different degrees, Nufio de Rasura, the Count Fernan Gonzalez, the seven children of Lara, and the Cid. In this way the legend unites 42 The Land vf the Cid. in one line all the heroes of Cas- tile, and by thus making their gene- alogy date back to the most obscure periods, it seeks to enfranchise them from the feudalships of the kings. The ancient rivalry between the dukedom of Castile and the king- dom of Leon seems to have been coeval with their existence as politi- cal provinces, and we learn from the history of this remote age that the princes of Leon always wielded a very unstable authority at Burgos. But the legend takes care to make them sever the bond by a crime. Or- dono II., inviting the Castilian chiefs to a banquet, puts them to death. To avenge their injuries the in- sulted people rise up against their The Land of the Cid. 43 kings and summon them to judg- ment. Nuno de Rasura and Lain Calvo ruled in Burgos, as Joshua and Gideon formerly in Israel. Nothing is now known of their government, but how can we doubt their existence, when we are shown, in one of the rooms of the ayunta- miento, the wooden chair, low and without ornament, from which they pronounced sentence according to the laws of the nation ?* A monument of larger size, but less characteristic, marks the spot where * For this and the following account I have made frequent reference to a recent and in- structive notice, Apuntes sobre Burgos published in tins city, and embellished with correct and tasteful illustrations. 44 The Land of ike Cid. once stood the house of Fernan Gon- zalez. Who would be ieve that Philip II., that distrustful monarch, had erected this triumphal arch in honor of the great Count of Castile, who was often seen armed against the in- fidels, but always sword in hand against the kings? The ballads pro- claim him the indomitable chief, who one by one conquered all the castles around Burgos, repulsing the Mussul- mans to the west, the Navarrais to the north, and in the tenth century re- uniting all Castile in one free and hereditary dukedom. Heaven seconds him against the infidels, and the love of his wife against his Christian ene- mies. At Piedrahita he battles three consecutive days without gaining- any The Land of the Cid. 45 advantage over the infidels, when at last the Apostle St. James appears, battling in his behalf, mounted upon a white courser, and armed with a glittering sword, which, striking right and left, soon decides the victory. Twice betrayed by the kings of Na- varre and Leon, and cast into their castle dungeons, Fernan Gonzalez twice escapes through the artifices of his wife, Dofia Sancha, and the devotion of his people. At the news of his captivity all the men of Burgos rise up in his defence, " and all took an oath with one voice not to enter Cas- tile without their lord the count if he returns not, neither will they; and pre- ceded by his image, carved in stone, and mounted upon a chariot, like 46 The Land of the Cid. faithful vassals they slowly journey towards the Arlanzon, measuring their course by the sun.'* The Castilians wishing to free themselves from the feudal tribute they owed Leon, their great count resolved to effect it. Summoned to attend the Cortes of Leon, he boldly repairs thither, ban- ishing all thoughts of that prison where he had languished so long. He was mounted upon a horse of fabulous price, and upon his wrist a magnificent falcon. The king, covet ing these superb animals, offers him a fixed sum, to be paid a certain, day, and doubled for each day the payment is delayed. The bargain hav- ing been concluded, a dispute arises between them, and when, after several The Land of the Cid. 47, years of war, the victorious Fernan de- mands a strict compliance with the ar- ticles of the agreement, the appointed' umpires, seeing that all the treasures of the kingdom would not suffice to cancel the debt, give him in exchange the absolute independence of his duke- dom. "The count held his debtor to the agreement, for it irked him sorely to kiss another man's hand, and he returned thanks to God for having delivered glorious Castile from the allegiance of Leon." Thus chants the Spanish, ballad. How willingly nations mingle ruse and heroism with their origin ! Carthage preserves the re- membrance, of the beef-hide that mark- ed her site, and all Greece places the cunning Ulysses beside Achilles. 4:8 The Land of the. Cid. If, now, your juvenile guide, more, anxious to follow up the legend than save your steps, conduct you to the solitary height where the arch of Fernan decorates the Cathedral Square, you will see just at the entrance of this noble edifice a line of trunkless heads. This sinister ornament repre- sents the seven heads of the seven children of Lara. Do not fear that because I have just bought The Trite Account of the Seven Children of Lara at a corner of the herb- market, from a ballad dealer sur- rounded by a numerous patronage of muleteers, I am going to inflict upon you this long story from begin- ning to end. I shall remark only that the scene opens like that of Niebe- The Land of the Cid. 49 km gen, by a dispute between two women at a wedding-feast. Dona Lainbra, wishing to be revenged upon the spouse and seven sons of her rpal, soon succeeds by her artifices ih betraying Gonzalo Bustos de Lara, the loyal chevalier, into the hands of Almanzor, king of Cordova. Here he remains a captive, though treated with the respect due his rank. Meanwhile, his seven sons being treacherously en- ticed into an ambuscade, and succumb- ing to superior numbers, are slain, and their trunk less heads sent to Cordova. At Almanzor's table is seated Gonzalo de Lara, for this illustrious lord is truly worthy of eating with kings. After the usual courses are served, "Friend Gonzalo," says the king, "a 50 The Land of the Cid. very dainty dish, is wanting." " At your table, my lord," replies the noble hidalgo^ uncovering his venerable white locks,, "there is no lack of anything." A basin is now brought in, covered with a napkin, which, when removed, \ discloses a ghastly sight seven heads; dead branches of this despoiled trunk Fv Gonzalo, contemplating it, says: "Ahi precious fruits ! who has transported you- from Burgos to the fields of the infidel ? "I Every one knows the rest of the* story, and how Mudarra, a half brother, revenged their death. The citizens of Burgos still show the tower whence\ th,e author of so many evils, Dona> Lambra, precipitated herself in de- spair, and to this clay it is called the, T.ower of the Suicide. The Land of the Cid. 5 r But these warlike legends are only preludes to the Castilian epic. All the genius of old Castile is concen- trated in the history of the Cid. The action begins at Burgos, the paternal, abode of heroes, and finishes near there, at the national sanctuary of St.. Peter of Cardena. In a deserted street,, once resounding with the noise of mea and horses, a pillar of stone between two small obelisks marks the site of the house where this invincible warrior was born. The. inscription reads thus: En este sitio estuvo la casa y nacio el ano MXXVI Rodrigo Diaz de vivar llamado. el Cid Campeador. If the Chronicles of the Cid appear to fix his hereditary fief in the burg 52 77/6 Land of the Cid. of Vivar, the ballads also give him possessions in the city. It was here, no doubt, he swore to avenge the Outrage upon his old father; and here, too, he brought Xitnena, on leaving the castle of Burgos, where his nup- tials were celebrated ; and here also the noble lady sighed for her warrior's return. En los solares de Burgos, A su Rodrigo aguardando. A few steps farther and we are at the Church of St. Agatha (Sant* Ague- da), renovated in the fifteenth century, but whose narrow nave recalls the proportions of the first Spanish basili- cas. St. Agatha, however, was a highly venerated sanctuary, one of the throe iglesias juraderas, or churches where The Land of the Cid. j the accused cleared themselves by oath. Cross the threshold, and you assist at the second act of the Spanish poem the struggle between the king and the Cid. The independence of Castile, achieved by Fernan Gonzalez, lasted only a century. The princes of Leon, securely established in Bur- gos, extended their regal prerogatives across the country, levying tribute and forcing the nobles to feudal service. On their side, the ricos h ombres en- trenched themselves behind a bulwark of defiance and jealousy. The strug- gle between king and nobles in Spain commences as it did in Greece, the dispute between Alphonso VI. and the Gid reminding one forcibly of that be- tween Achilles and Agamemnon. But 54 r riie Land of t!ie Cid. the wrath of the Cid is a just, Chris< tian anger it breaks forth in a church and not without grave cause. Alphonso VI,, accused by public rumor of having put to; death his own brother, Don Sancho, is required to prove his inno- cence. '"And the day the king took; oath at St. Agatha's, the Cid, taking in; his hands the book of the Holy Gospels, placed it upon the altar. Then King Alphonso put his hand on; the book,, and the Cid interrogated! him in these terms : * King Alphonso^ , you: are here to swear concerning the: death of the king Don' Sancho, your brother, that you neither killed him yourself nor know anything about the \ murder. Say ' I swear it,' you and.) other hidalgos," The king and' Tkc Land of the Cid, 55 his hidalgos responded : ' We swear it.'* Then the Cid continued: ' If you are in any wise implicated in this deed, may you die the death of the king Don Sancho, your brother ! May a villain kill you, and not a scion of noble blood! May he spring from a foreign land, and not Castile ! ' The king and his nobles answered; 'Amen,'' but when required by the, Cid to repeat this oath thrice, the sec qnd time the king changed color, the third time he was greatly irritated against the Cid, and henceforth there was. strife between them Tradition,; which not unfrequently degenerates in, the course of ages, has spoiled this. * We here recognize the cvnjuratores of the', ancient Germanic laws. 56 The Land of the Cut. beautiful narration, by clothing it with an air of superstition, in making the accused swear, not upon the Gospels ; but upon a bolt which is still shown at the church door. Alphonso VI. did not smother his re- sentment, and one day meeting the Cid between Burgos and Vivar, " Ruy Diaz," said he, " depart from my lands." Putting spur to his horse, the Cid leaped upon his patrimonial estate, and answered: "My lord, I am not on your lands, but my own." The king replied, greatly exasperated: "Depart from my kingdom, and without delay." And here begins the Cid's exile. It is at Burgos we must read the ac- count, near that Moorish gate through which he passed, and these ruined The Land of the Cid 5 7 walls, towards which he turned his longing eyes. We must read it in The Poem of the Cid, more ancient than the Romances^ more ancient than the Chronicle, and beginning with its Hero's disgrace. " My Cid Ruy Diaz entered Bur- gos. He led into the field sixty ban- ners. Men and women throng to see him. The people of Burgos are at their windows, weeping most bitterly, so deep is their grief, and in every mouth is, the same lamentation : ' Oh-* what a good vassal, had he but a gbbd master!' Yet no one dares in- vite ;him in. The Campeador goes towards his dwelling; it is securely closed; and though his attendants call (put in \ a loud voice, there is no re- 58 The Land of the Cid. sponse from within. Leaping from his horse, the Cid himself tries the gate he knocks, but in vain. At last a little girl about nine years of age appears. ' Campeador,' says she, * blessed be the hour when you girded on the sword ! But we cannot open to you. Yesterday evening came the king's letter, closely sealed, and attended with all solemnity; On no account must we lodge or en- tertain you, unless we wished to lose our houses, our possessions the very eyes out of our heads. Cid, our woes would benefit you not; but may the Omnipotent Creator lend you his aid!* Saving this, she withdrew into the house. The Cid now saw there was nothing to be hoped from the king; so, turning away, he hastened towards The Land of the Cid. 59 'St. Mary's, where, dismounting, he en- tered and -'knelt in fervent prayer. Then, leaping upon his horse, he passed through the city gate, and was &oon on the banks of the Arlanzon. 'Here, not far from the city, he pitched his tent."* When our exile knelt at St. Mary's, ere turning his face toward the river, the humble church was still far from that splendor which it attained under f che auspices of St. Ferdinand, when 'its walls were extended, its arches raised, and its modest exterior trans- formed into Our Lady of Burgos. Yet the magnificent cathedral piously guards 'the memory of the humiliated * Pt)ema del Citt v. 15 60 The Land of the Cid. hero who knelt before its altar. In one of the capitulary rooms is sus- pended a great chest, like the reli- quary of a saint. Beneath is the Cid's portrait, encased in iron, as if in veri- fication of the account which follows. In vain did he depart from his fief accompanied by sixty banners. He and his followers must have food. Then the Cid, taking aside his nephew, Martin Antolinez, sent him to Burgos, with a message for two Jews, Rachel and Bidas, with whom he had been accustomed to traffic in booty, request- ing them to return with Antolinez to the camp. Meanwhile, two large iron- cased coffers, ea.ch with a triple lock, and so heavy that four men could scarcely raise one even when empty The Land of the Cid. 61 are filled with sand, and the surface covered with gold and precious stones. The Jews, on their arrival, are shown these coffers, and the Cid tells them that, not wishing to be encumbered with the charge of such enormous treasures in camp, that he entrusts them to their keeping, requesting them to lend him j upon them a certain sum, of which he stands in need. And the Jews lend him three hundred marks of gold and the same amount of silver. " But when the Cid took Valencia he re- deemed his chests of sand, by return- ing the three hundred marks of gold, and the three hundred marks of silver, and asked pardon of Rachel and Bi- das, for it had grieved him sorely to have been guilty of such a decep- 62 The Laud of t lie Cni. tion." * This last trait touches me. I believe the Castilian delighted to have played such a trick upon two infidels, but surelv his Castilian honor suffered incon- sequence, and necessitated an apology. The Achilles of Spain did not lead a life of indolence and ease beneath his tent ; his lance, henceforth free knd sovereign, was poised against the infidel. He cannot rest until he has besieged Valencia, " the honor and joy of the Moors, the city of strong walls, whose white battlements are seen from afar glittering in the sun!'' The siege is long and the fam- ine cruel* The father no longer * Cronica del Cid, cap. xc. and ccxiv. 1 here return to the Chronicles, us the account is more condensed. The Land of the Cid. 63 advises with his son, nor the son with his father, nor friend with friend : they have no hope and no source of consola- tion. Oh ! there is' nothing worse than, to want bread, to see one's wife and children die of hunger."* The poem follows Rodriguez in his conquests. We go to meet him at the term of all earthly grandeur, the tomb, chosen by himself not far from his ancestral patrimony. About two leagues southeast of Burgos is the abbey of St. Peter of Cardena, the oldest community of St. Bene- dict's order in Spain, and founded * Quotation from an Arabic lament upon the taking of Valencia, and first published in the pre- lace of Cautioners de Bania. 64 7/^ 7 Laud of the Cid. by a princess of the royal race of Goths in 537, as a resting-place for the remains of her son. It is a glorious house, and failed not to take part in the national struggle against the Saracens. In 872, falling into their hands, the infidels pillaged tt, and massacred under its cloisters the Abbot Stephen with two hundred of his monks. In 899 it was rebuilt by Alphonso III., but tradition says that for six hundred years after, on the anniversary of the massacre, 'the martyr's blbod reappeared on the stones where it had been shed, and that this annual miracle never ceased until 1492, , when the taking of Granada washed away for ever the Christians' injuries. This was a' fa- The Land of the Cid* 65 vorite spot of the CicFs. On going into exile, it was to the Abbe of Cardena he confided his wife Ximena and his two daughters, and at St. Peter's of Cardena did he desire sepulture. At his death his widow and her friends brought him hither from Valencia, embalmed, girded in armor, and seated upon his horse, and here too they deposited their precious charge, not recumbent in a tomb like common mortals, but seat- ed upon a stool, enveloped in his mantle, and sword in hand. Four years after, Dona Ximena lay at his feet "And when the good horse Babiega died, the groom to whose charge he had been entrusted, not wishing to bury him within the mon- 66 The Land of the Cid. astery enclosure, dug him a grave to the right of the gate, planting over it two English elm^, one at the head and one at the foot, and these trees grew to a great size. " Still later, Ring Alphonso X. erected in the church choir a tomb to the Cid ; \ bearing the following inscription, which savors more of the soldier than the great scholar: "Belliger, invictus, famosus morte, triumphis, Clauditur hoc tumulo magnus Didaci Rodericus." But time has not spared this monument. The Benedictines of Car : dena removed it from the choir tc the sacristy, from the sacristy to the choir, and thence to the chapel of St. Sisebut. Meantime, the vandalism of modern improvement disfigured the . The Land of the Cid. 67 church, and a great wonder it is that the equestrian statue of the Cid at the entrance, crushing a Saracen under his horse's feet, was ever left standing. The honored exile seems destined never to find an asylum against the caprices of men. The French carried off his tomb to Bur- gos as a decoration for the public promenade. The restoration replaced it in the vaults of St. Peter, and ^t last, when a law of violence opened the convent gates, the governor of Burgos, fearing lest some English tourist should carry off the bones of Rodriguez and Ximena, now left unguarded, placing the precious re- mains in a walnut coffin, removed them from the antique abbey to the 68 The Land of the Cid. chapel of the city hospital. With the deepest melancholy, though not with- out some doubts as to their authen- ticity, did I contemplate these re- mains, exhibited for the sum of twc reals by an attendant, who removed the funeral pall and opened the coffin. I have a horror of this violation of the secrets of death, and I shud- der at sight of these dried bones, at least when sanctity has not covered them with her imperishable vest- ments. The Church herself respects this feeling, and when exposing to our veneration the relics of the saints, she encases them in gold, and hides them beneath a veil of crystal or a cloud of incense. Three hundred years ago the magis- The Land of Ike Cid. 69 trates of Burgos honored their heroes indeed. When the battle of Villalar had ruined the cause of the comuneros, in whose behalf Burgos had drawn her sword, that city, wishing to ap- pease the wrath of Charles V., erected in his honor a triumphal arch. But to show at the same time that she had lost nothing of her pride, this monu- ment of her submission was also a com- memoration of her most ancient glo- ries Do not accuse me again of stopping at mere inscriptions or masses of stones heaped up regardless of art, If we except the cathedral, Burgos contains no edifice more striking than this, none more truly inspired with the old Castilian spirit, none more redolent of classic tradition. At the jo The Land of the Cid. extremity of the quay, on the right bank, and just opposite the bridge arises a feudal gate, between two prominent towers of a severe and ornate style. In niches immediately above the grand arch are statues of the founder of the city, Diego For- cellos, and the Castilian judges, Nuno f all beneficiary cases, die right of filling curacies and chaplaincies, that of oxamining, approv- ing, and concealing the necessary titles to celebrate, preach, confess, and have the charge of souls. She was ac- quainted with the violations of enclo- sure, the immunities of churches, trans- lations of convents, erection of confra- t^rnities, and she could likewise ten- der letters of recommendation for holy >rders. No doubt the Abbesses of ChelUis and Fontevrault more than once waved their monastic coat of arms The Land of the Cid. 90 beside the lilies of France ; they num- bered among their followers a host of baronr, and chevaliers; they sent depu- ties to the States -General, and their <^uota to the royal standard. Germany, too. ^oaid boast of her superb n^i- gious, in whose presence the Emperor arose, and who occupied a seat in the Diet. But the canonists nowhere mention another example of such ex- orbitant power as that exercised by the ladies of Las Huelgas in the face of that powerful metropolitan the Arch- oishop of Burgos, who dwelt at the opposite end ot the bridge. It was the policy of the kings to aggrandize a house which they regarded as their own, where, with their families, they would repose in death ; wher^ the ioo The Land of the Cid. princesses of their blood could ever find a retreat, whether they took the veil or retired thither for only a few vears of cloistral repose. Here we see six Infants of Castile, three of Aragon, one of Navarre, one of Por- tugal, one of Austria. On their side the popes could not refuse these un prececlented honors to the daughters of a royal race, who had sustained against the infidels u crusade of Bright hundred years. In no country more than Spain did women need that protection which springs from respect, for in no country did they lack more the protection of the sword, the family rampart ; nowhere were they con- demned to a longer solitude, a more certain widowhood, whilst endless war- The Lritf'yf ifye.Cidts \ 101 fare claimed husbands, brothers, sons. In the Middle Ages, woman was hon- ored throughout Christendom ; in France and Italy, warriors and poets were at her service ; in Castile, religious and priests ranged themselved under her laws.* You will probably reproach me with having stopped to talk before the abbey grating, instead of penetrating * We must read, in the Memoir of the Abb/ Calvo^ the royal ordinance of January 22, 1728, by which King Philip V. confirms the privilegesof the abbey of Las Huelgas, referring to the conces- sions of Popes Clement III., Gregory IX., Inno- cent IV., Innocent VIIL, Leo X., Pius V., Urban VIII. It is true, the texts of these concessions are not given, whilst at the same time we see the royal abbey pleading against the archbishops to be delivered from the consultations of doctors, which proves that its rights could be contested. The Land 'of the Cid. these cloisters, w'liose marvellous beau tics you have heard described. Doubt- less, you are longing* to see the clois- ters especially and their Roman di- cades, relics of the palace of Alphonso VIII., the doors with their Moresque decorations, the grand arched cloister. Here every epoch of Spanish archi- tecture has left its trace; but you . must believe this, if you please, upon the word of the archaeologists, for the grates open not to us; an immutable law keeps them for ever shut against all save the King and Queen of Spain. When one of these sovereigns visits the house, the train of attendants is also permitted to enter. Then the whole city numbers itself upon the list of royal attendants and it is thus Land of the Cid. 103 some fortunate stranger, led hither l>y his star, finds the opportunity of sketching these graceful lines, these capricious ornaments, which are now your envy and despair. The church, however, remains to us, though even here the same severe law robs us of half its beauties. The late- ral door opens upon an atrium^ called \\it'nave de los caballeros. There, under bare or rudely- sculptured tombs, the old Castilian chevaliers guard their dead kings, like good servants reposing at their masters* doors. Let us enter the basilica, forgetting the modern decora- tions which deface the sanctuary, and regardless of the grate, which prevents iu from vhiting but not from viewing the choir of the religious, the ten IO4 The Land of the Cid. arcades of the grand nave, and the tombs. We find that the genius of St. Ferdinand that brave and pious monarch, the captor of cities and founder of so many churches still breathes in every line of this beau- tiful edifice, which his piety rebuilt. The plan is that of a Latin cross. Before the completion of its cathedral, Burgos contained no structure more grave and majestic than this, where the Byzantine severity serves, we might say> as a stem for the first bloom of Gothic architecture. We perceive that the so- vereigns of the thirteenth age trans- formed the royal church, the basilica of their festivals and triumphs, into a place of sepulture in other words, they made it the St. Denis of old Castile. The Land of 'the C id- ICK five hundred years the succes- sors of Alphonso VIII. scarcely knew that leisure whence springs the splen- dor of a reign and a capital's pros- perity. We see them forcing the gates of Seville, Xeres, Gibraltar, or shut up in Toledo, in order to watch more closely the enemy's movements. But most always at Burgos, and at St. Mary's of Las Huelgas, do they seek their coronation, their nuptial bene- diction, and the only peace they ever found that of the grave. Here St. Ferdinand was knighted ; the bibhop Maurice blessed the arms, and Ferdi- nand himself took the sword from the altar, but he would have it girded on by no hands save those of his mother. Here Alphonso XL, Henry II., and The Land of the Cid. Juan I. celebrated their coronation, and to end where all earthly grandeur ends, here, too, in the centre of the choir, is the tomb of Alphonso VIII and his wife Eleanor, whilst the grand and side naves contain the remains of Alphonso VII., Sancho III., Henri I., Alphonso X. of five queens, eleven princes, and eighteen princesses. The mausoleums are for the most part very simple, usually supported by lions, and ornamented only with arabesques and statuettes arranged in the niches. Yet this long line of kings and ; princes still consoles the widowhood of the old city of Burgos, by recalling the days when her palaces were not, as now, silent and abandoned.* * Upon the architecture of the church of Laa The Land of the Cid* ioj The founder of Las HuelgCcS not only provided for the repose of his descendants, but, with touching kind- ness, he also established a resting-place for poor travellers and pilgrims, who, from all parts of Christendom, repaired to St. James of Compostello. Neai the royal abbey, and under its jurisdic" tion, is the Hospital del Rey, where thirteen men and several of the other sex (all religious) serve the pilgrims in the name of their abbess. To honor their ministry, they wear the habit of Calatrava, and are entitled comendadores and comendaoras. The Huelgas, we must consult a learned article of M Did run in {\\~ArcJuStd0gitalAnitakQi 1849. Cir cumstances have prevented my examining this as >Vfll as many other authorities. io8 The Land of the Cid. hospital contained a hundred and twelve beds, and fed, in addition four hundred persons. Revolutions have destroyed this stewardship of ancit-nt hospitality, and restorations have dis- figured the architecture. Yet who could forbear stopping at this ele- gant gate (pucrta de los Romeros), where the fatigued traveller's first glance descries the images of his celestial protectors St. James ma- jestically seated in a niche, and, above, the Archangel Michael, crush- ing under foot the dragon. Tradition states that the porter to this entrance was the blessed St. Amaro. He came from France, says this legend, and, having fulfilled his vow at Compos tcllo, remained to spend his days in The Land of the Cid. 109 the service of the pilgrims, washing their feet; dressing their . wounds, has-- ten ing to meet the most fatigued and carrying them on his shoulders. Pro- found obscurity enveloped the life of this just man, but the night of his death a brilliant light enveloped the Hospital del Rev. The people of Burgos ran to the spot, believing the house in flames, but found that it was a token from heaven by which God wished to honor and reveal the hidden virtues of his servant. The Church erected altars to St. Amaro, and the people still .read with devo-. tion the legend of his life. Here we must stop to dwell a moment upon one of the characteristics of Catholic Spain charitv beside grandeur. The no 7^/ie Land of t lie Cid. Cid wreaks vengeance upon the Sara- cen, but the leper sits at his table and reposes upon his bed. The abbesses of Las Huelgas reign behind their convent grates, which are opened only to crown-ed heads, but the gates of their hospital are never shut against the poor.* Santa Maria de las Huelgas guards Burgos on the west, whilst the Car- thusian convent of Miraflores protects it on the east It was thus the cities of the Middle Ages loved to be en- compassed by these monastic camps, where watched the servants of God. sentinels of prayer and penitence. u Nisi Dominus custo lierit civiiatem Frustra vigilat qui custodit ea.n." * Apuntes sobre Burgos. The Land of Ike Cid. til The Carthusian monastery is situ- ated upon a hill commanding the country, but whence one descries only monotonous fields of wheat and barley. How this graceful name of Miraflores deceives us, for we see no flowers but the pale mallows, scattered by autumnal winds! For a long time have 1 been forced to renounce the Castile of my dreams, abounding with luxuriant gar- dens, purple pomegranates, citrons bending under the weight of their golden fruit, whilst the fragrant white jasmine clambered up the balcony lat tices, and, I need scarcely add, the palm, crowning with its triumphal branches this rich vegetation of the south. As the road from Burgos to the ? n 2 'The Land of the Cid. chartreuse is long, I shall profit by the opportunity to -entertain you with a short account of King Juan II., not, however, without a show of reason, since we are going to visit places redolent of his memory, and since the poetic splendor of his reign was reflected in the works of art we are about to see. You will begin to suspect me of intro ducing here, under the cover of a journey, detached chapters of a his- tory of Spanish literature. Heaven shield me from this excess of perfidy ! But how shall I deny that for me the greatest attraction, the magic, of this journey consists in transporting me, not ;only to other climes, but to dis- tant ages? To my eyes, these grand historic countries would be, but Li- Land of t lie Lid. iij mentable cemeteries, could I not, in passing through, awaken t6 life the generations who once peopled them. And what better mode of reanima tion than that of giving them speech, especially the words of their own poets, which express, with the 'ut- most naivete, vigor, and brilliancy, the thoughts of all ? We are now in the middle . of the fifteenth century We hear no longer those warlike poets whom St. Ferdi- nand led to battle, or those recitations of exploits which the ancient cheva- liers had sung at their tables. Gradu- ally, the heroic ballad, with its sim- plicity of style, its irregularity of versi- fication, loses popularity, except with an ignorant auditory of peasants and i 14 7/v Land of the Cid. soldiers collected around some blind singer. Another style of poetry is now the pastime of a rich, refined, and exacting society. The Provencal troubadours frequent the courts of Ar- agon and Castile. Here they at first find admirers, then disciples. The ricos hombres strive to compose sirventes and canzons. The consistory of Gay Science, at Barcelona, displays a con- course which rivals the floral games = of Toulouse. Meanwhile, the Spaniards, have crossed the sea, and returned from their conquest of Sicily and Na- ples, their ears still attuned to the songs of the Italian muse, their souls inflamed with that passion of antiquity which animated the Roman and Flor- entine savants. In -one year, 1428. aj> The Land of the OV/. 115 peared two translations ol the Divina Commedia, one in Catalonian and one in Castilian. Others imitated Petrarch, or translated Titus Livius. But the refined learning of Provence and Italy could be acclimatized only under the shadow of the palace. It needed the protection of a beneficent, cultivated prince, clever and witty rather than great. This prince, this Medici's of the Castilian revival, was Juan II. History has already passed sentence upon the prince, who occupied the throne forty-eight years without reign- ing, the slave of his favorite, Alvaro cle Luna afterwards of the faction, which made him sign that same favor- re's death-warrant dving at last full/ impressed with a knowledge of his owr ir6 The Land oj the Cia. weakness and inutilitv, and condemn- ing himself in these his dying words; " Would to God I had been born the son of a mechanic, and had lived a monk at the convent of Abrojo ! '' Yet this man, incapable of govern ii g wills or suppressing intrigues and in- surrections, enjoyed a pacific reign in the world of arts and letters. A great oainter of times and manners Fernan Perez de Gusman thus depicts the literary character of King Juan II. : " He understood men, and readily dis- tinguished those who conversed intelli- gently and agreeably. He appreciated their society, and treasured their words. He understood and spoke Latin. He read well, and was fond of books. He relished true poetry, .and with equal The Lciutt of the Cid. 1 1*7 c'acility discerned ill-made verse. He took great pleasure in lively, witty conversations, in which he was by no means incapable of bearing his part. Versed in music, he ' sang and played/' He himself did not disdain to com pose, and he was sufficiently successful to chant in light rhymes the power c love and cruelty of woman. How ever, his 'greatest merit lay in en- couraging and consequently multiplying poetic talent, and thus forming around his throne a Pleiad of splendor. Upon its blood-stained steps one hears only songs and poems of every metre. The grant- constable Alvaro de Luna dic- tates couplets whilst meditating the designs that lead him to the scaffold. The Marquis of Villena sketches a i i# 77/6 Land of I lie Cid. poetic art. The Marquis of Santillane counts, with his iron - manacled hand, the syllabled cadences of his sonnets The commander Calavera proposes a poetical contest upon a given subject "The reconciliation of Providence with man's free will " and seven poets answer the summons, among them a monk and a Mahometan. A fruitful disorder, a beneficent equality, con- found all rank and distinction when one applies his hand to verse-making. Bishops and state officials carry on a correspondence with Montoro, the dealer in old clothes; Juan, the har- ness-maker; Mondragon, the groom; Juan of Valladolid, son of an execu- tioner, and a hotel servant. The de- mon of verse possesses the Spanish 7 7ie Land of 'the Cid. nation, and the school to whrch it gives birth, though one of necessity, is laborious, elegant, witty, yet cold and empty.* The fifteenth century is also a tragic age. The Christians of Spain waged war among themselves, whilst from all the towers of Granada the infidels kept unceasing watch, awaiting but a favorable moment to cast themselves upon the divided, exhausted kingdom. Yet the Cancionero de Baena, contain- ing the collected productions of fifty authors, scarcely betrays a trace of * Tick nor, History of Spanish Literature ', vol. i. See also .M. Field's learned intro-d action to the Cautioner? de Baena, and an article of M. Leo- poldo de Cueto, Revue ties Delta, Mondes^ Mav 1 20 The Land of the Cid. either these civil or holy wars, in which the poets and their Macaenases risked their lives. The more seriously dis- posed cultivated a learned style of poetry, after the example of Dante, henceforth established master of the Castilian Parnassus.* These seldom failed to wander in some forest, where accidentally meeting a mysterious per- sonage who became their guide, they were conducted into a place where they discovered the harmony between divine and human things. However, one does not often approach greal models without deriving some benefit therefrom, Juan de Mena owes to his imitation of the Divina Cammed ia an * Cancionero de Baena, page 261 : " Requesta de Alfonso Alvares contra Ferrant Manuel." The Laiid of tke Cid. i -2 \ elevation of style that places him im- mensely above his contemporaries. By tar the greater number followed in the train of the Provencal poets, preferring that light and gallant style of poetry which enkindles so many flames and sharpens so many arrows, but without costing its votaries life. If the too sensitive Macias fell a victim to his passion, his was a solitary case, which became the admiration of all posterity, and the happy versificators of the court of Juan II. rhymed peacefully upon the Mandates of Love, the Pleas of Love, the Regrets of Love, the Prison of Love t and even the Hell of Love. Leaving aside the national epics, the productions of the period are miserable, and this art of imitation seems only j 2 2 The Land of the Cm. the art of decadence, though here, as is often the case elsewhere, it is a de- cadence concealing- a progress. The poetic worship of women added gen- tleness and delicacy to Castilian valor. It permeated, if not all souls, at least the language and manners with those lofty sentiments, making Spanish soci- ety a school of honor and courtesy, and which, crossing the Pyrenees with Anne of Austria, gave the finishing polish to French society. But in these efforts of the fifteenth century to reproduce the rhythms of Italy and Provence, and even in this excessive chiselling of verse and stanza, we see accomplished its especial though invol- untary work, which was to transform and refine the rude language of the Ciu The Land of the Cid 123 This poetry, which remained content with faulty measure and facile asson- ance, was to become flexible and ca- pable of the utmost precision and most exquisite melody, but it must pass through a long novitiate ere reaching the moment when Calderon, recovering the inspiration of Chris- tianity's palmy days, would crown it with the prestige of a brilliant, musical language, untranslatable for us, but ineffably enchanting to the Spanish ear. 1 his rapid glance at the literary aspect of the court of Juan II. was necessary as a preparation for an ap- preciative visit to his tomb. The Castilian revival can now unfold tc our gaze its marvels of sculpture we know whence sprang the breeze that 1 ?4 The Land oj t/ie Cia. opened these blossoms of marble and stone. Whilst talking, we have just passed through the arched gateway which marked the limits of the royal park at Miraflores. Juan II., carrying out a vow made by his father Henry III., donated to the monks the park and pavilion where the kings were accus- tomed to rest after the chase ; and finally, sufficient money to erect a monastery, beneath whose shadow he Wished to sleep in death. On the Feast of Pentecost, 1442, the commu- nity was established ; and to the joyful sounds of a hunting rendezvous suc- ceeded the silence of St. Bruno's rule. But Juan II. dying before the comple- tion of the new monastery, that work The Land of the Cid. 125 was reserved for the great Isabella, the same who wielded such an influ- ence over Spain and the whole world. Two German architects, Jean and Simon of Cologne, and two Spanish,' Garcia Fernandez Martienzo and Diego de Monclieta, built the august and ele- gant church. Before the vaults were closed, Isabella had provided, for ; the sepulture of her father. Repairing to Miraflores, {11*1483, she had his coffin, which had been temporarily deposited in one of the vaults, brought forth and opened, that she might see the body and kiss its feet. Soon after she com- missioned the sculptor Gil de Siloe to execute the two mausoleums of Juan II. and Isabella of Portugal, his Recond wife, and Don Alphonso, their 126 7^ke Land of the Cut, son. The designs were submitted to her, and the sculptor having applied his chisel to the marble in 1489, pur- sued the work so vigorously that in less than five months both tombs were finished. * The church of Mirafl-ores, then, is an immense reliquary, in which the piety of Isabella has enshrined the remains of her father, mother, and the young brother whose premature death placed the crown upon her brow. Exteriorly, the church resembles a catafalque no steeple, no transept in front, no orna- ment save the heraldic emblazonry one sees upon the mortuary wrappings * Arias, Apuntes Historicos sobre la Cartiija de Miraftores. I have profited much by this excel lent work. The Land of the Cid. \ 27 of a king; the roof rounded like a coffin lid, the crucifix at the entrance, and ranged all around forty small spires of three different heights, like the three rows of candelabras around a bier. But enter this abode of death and you will find there all the typi- fied splendor of a Christian hope. The mind disengages itself from earth, and rises heavenward with these as- piring arches. The promise of immor- tality beams forth from these fourteen stone fasces, starting from the angels of the apsis, and whose interlacing nerves hang in graceful festoons above the sanctuary. Seventeen stained glass windows admit a iight, myste- rious and clear as that of faith. The united efforts of sun and rain have I 28 Tke Land of ike Lid, tarnished their beauties, hut they h .re not effaced the life of our Savvuur, which forms the subject, and v nich for us is truly the only light capable! of dissipating the shades of death. A merchant of Burgos having Deen charged with a commission in Han- ders for the windows of Mirafl res, presumed to make a present of one stamped with his own arms. When Isabella was informed of this unknown emblazonry, taking a sword from one of the gentlemen in her train, she broke the glass to pieces. " In this house/' said she, " I wish no arms but those of my Father.'* She herself, who had erected these walls and tombs, nowhere, inscribed her name, though truly everything proclaims it. Crown- The Land of the Cid 129 ng the altar-piece of gilded wood, vppears Christ on the cross, not ac- ;ompanied by the pope and emperor, AS he is frequently represented in the Middle Ages, but sustained on one side by a pope wearing the tiara and on the other by a crowned queen. And how can we forget that, at the very time when Isa'bella was occu- pied with this work, Christopher Col- umbus returned from that New World to which he had opened his way, made his triumphal entry into Burgos, leading in his tictlii a number of sav- iges, crowned with glittering plumes and bringing as offerings to the queen a diadem, a chain, bracelets, and ingots of the purest gold? These riches she consecrated to the service of 130 The Land of t/ie Cid. God, and thus the altar-piece of Mira- flores was adorned with the first-fruits of America.* Were the place less rich in marvels, we might stop at the monks 1 stalls or the dais which surmounts the prior's seat. But I have no longer a thought for anything save the monument aris- ing before the altar, from the cen- tre of the choir. The two statues of Juan II. and Isabella of Portugal, recline upon an octagon base. The heads are beautiful, the attitudes noble and calm, the costumes magnificent. The king appears such as his contem- poraries have represented him " tall * Arias, Apuntes, pp 71, 77, 78, This refers to the second return o- v'hristophe. Columbus trom America, in 1496 , The Land of the Cid. 131 and firely formed, of an aspect truly royal, his limbs, hands, and feet per- fect. Moreover, he was frank and gra- cious, devout and valiant, a great scholar, and very prepossessing in ap- pearance." But on scanning these somewhat effeminate features more closely, we discover likewise the timid prince, the sport of those factions afflicting his reio-n, and which are fitly typified in the two lions struggling at his feet. The queen reposes beside him, but inclining slightly to the oppo- piie side, as if from bash fulness. Her eyes are caU upon a book she holds in her hands, and in whose pages she seeks forgetfulness of pomps and royal cares. At her feet play together a lion, a dog, and a child; thus opposing to The Land of the Cid. the , remembrance of civil discord an image of domestic peace. Around these two sovereigns, laid low in death, the four Evangelists are seated upon thrones, whose stability knows not the blight of time. The artist has thrown into t the expression of these heads a truly Spanish pride, which proclaims unrelenting defiance to the Mussulman and Jew. Between these figures, and at the eight angles of the sub-base, arise angels on outspread wing. The sub-base itself is a world of statues and statuettes, seated or standing, prominent or buried in niches, or veiled under leaves. Sixteen personages oc- cupy the principal place on the king's side, eight of the just men of the Old Testament ; on the queen's. / fie JLand of the Cid. 133 the theological and cardinal virtues, and the Virgin holding the dead Christ upon her knees, as if reminding us that royal souls are not exempt from sorrow. All .around, above, beneath, are doctors meditating, enveloped in their mantles ; cowled monks praying, and a shepherd caressing his sheep. We might justly say that Art had sought throughout creation, from the angels and heavenly virtues to the beasts of the earth, for whatever was strongest and purest, holiest and most intelligent, to sustain the weight oi this king and queen, who were Chris- tians, but sinners likewise. " Si iniquitates observaveris, Domine, Doniine, quis sustinebit ?" Their daughter would not leave 34 TJ' ie Laud of the Cid. them solitary in the tomb. She sur- rounded them with all these people of *tone, seemingly interceding for them before the Lord Notwithstanding the beauties of so great a work, good judges prefer the Infant's tomb. The days of this youth were short and evil. In the time of his elder brother, Henry IV., the Im- potent, whose reign separated those of Juan II. and Isabella, Alphonso fell into the hands of the insurgents. The thief of the Ca c tilian nobles, for the gratification of his own ambitious schemes, scrupled not to lay violent hands upon a child, and engage him in a fratricidal struggle ; and it is this child who figures in the memorable scene tlinsf described by a contempo- The Land of the Cid. \ 3 5 rary ;* " In the plain near Avila was erected a scaffold, and upon it placed an effigy of King Henry, seated on a throne and dressed in mourning. After the crowd had listened to a long list of grievances against the king, he was declared unworthy of re'gnino. Then the Archbishop of Toledo ap proached the effigy, and took off its crown. He was declared unworthy of governing, and the Count of Bena- vente snatched away the sceptre. Fi- * Henriqued cl Castillo, translation of M. Ter- nau'x, Cakieron has transferred this scene to his beautiful tragedy, El Pmicipe de Fez, where the Mussulman prince, on the eve of becoming a Christian, is persecuted by the demon, and sees, in a dream, his people rise up against him, his effigy hurled from the throne, and his ycung sou crowned in his j-'teaa. 136 The Land of the Cid. nally, the figure was ignominiously hurl ed from the throne, and the Infant Don Alphonso elevated to the vacancy, whilst the royal standard was unfurled and with one voice the people cried out : * Castile, Castile for King Al phonso!" But the young Alphonso's reign was short. Death claimed its own ; and the honors of this false roy- alty reflect less glory upon his memory than the monument erected by Isa- bella's affection and the chisel of Gil * cle Siloe. The base of the tomb con sists of the escutcheon of Castile and Leon, flanked by two mail clad war- riors, resting upon their lances, their proud, defiant countenances betokening at once those mighty vassals who were less the guardians of the ctowrt The Land of the Cid. 137 tnan its peril and incessant dread. Above this is the Infant Don Al- phoitso, kneeling upon cushions. He is arrayed in a rich mantle, the chaper ron upon his shoulders, and before him, on an ottoman, an open book. A sculptured garland floats above him, like a curtain which is about to fall The arcade enclosing this scene termi- nates by an image of Our Lady with the Infant Jesus. On two sides of the monument arise two splendid pyra- mids, in ornamental tracery, and peo- pled with groups of small though per- fectly-executed figures. But I should never finish did I stop to describe the capricious arabesques, the poetic epi- sodes, which enrich this composition. Among other charming pictures is that The Land of the Cid. of a youth stretching forth his hand to pluck a bunch of grapes that seem ed to have ripened especially for him; but just as he does so, a squirrel, more agile, darts down the lattice, and devours them before his eyes. Is not this an image of that child 6orn for the crown, which a prema- ture destiny snatches from it ? * Virgil, in immortal verse, bewailed the short years of the young Marcellus ; the Cas- tilian sculptor nt^kes the cold marble sigh for the young Alphonso. The same moan arises from poem and tomb. 'Ostendent terris hunc tantum fata, nee ultra sinent." ...... And let no one accuse me of at- The Land of tlie Cid. 1 39 tributing meaning to the caprices of artists, aird of introducing allusion and symbo.1, where they gave but free- dom to their imagination and delicacy to their chisel. It would be unbecom- ing in us, who are their inferiors in this respect, to lend inspiration to the fifteenth century and its artists, the most ingenious, subtle, and amorous that ever existed. When Juan de Mena could extend his allegorical poem to the length of three hundred octaves, why should not the sculptor adorn his subject with these emblems, which were understood and appreciated by all his contemporaries? The same taste, the same refinement, the same patience that softened and harmonized the language and interlaced rhymes, 140 The Land of the Cid. awakened from the stone its scrolls, its foliage and flowers. Here, too, as in the province of letters, the Castilian genius is founded upon that of the stranger. Those Germans from Co- logne, who came hither to build the chartreuse, heirs of Gothic tradition, taught the Spaniards how to ^translate Christian theology into bas-reliefs and statues. The monks and doctors on the mausoleum of Juan II. bear a striking resemblan-ce to the mourners of Our Lady of Brou, and the ara- besques on the Infanta's tomb recall the most beautiful fantasies of the Italian sculptors. Thus the history of poesy repeats itself in the history of the arts, or, in other words, it is the same poetic genius that guides the pen The Land of the Cid. 141 and chisel. But in Spain the latter was at first more powerful than the pen, it did more than diffuse around it grace and elegance it gave soul and thought The Church of Miraflores alone that funeral monument contains more life than the Cancionero de Baena, and the Spanish revival had already found in the arts that spirit of beauty she still sought among letters. However, in descending a little from the time of King Juan II., I find the following memento of hks reign in lines not un- worthy of quotation, and which recall in a moment the splendor of tha* learned and frivolous court: /'What has become of King Don Juan? The Infantas of Aragon, where are they ? What now remains of sr. The Land of the Cid. much gallantry, so much contrivance; displayed in all their Sports? The tiles and tourneys, the ornaments and embroidery, the crests, like the visions of a dream what were all these things but verdure of the field ? * 4 What has become of these noble ladies their coiffures, their vestments, and perfumes? Where are now those fireside flames that shone upon so many happy faces? What has become of the troubadour's art and those harmonious instruments ? those dances and costly stuffs worked with gold and silver? " The liberal largesses, the royal edi-- fices filled with gold, the handsomely wrought plate, the crowns and reaUj of the treasury, the horses and rich ca . The Land of the Cid. 143 .jarison 01 the king's attendants where shall we go to seek them ? What vvere they all but the dew upon the meadow ? "* With the reign of Juan II. ended the reign of grandeur for Burgos. Isa- bella several times visited the capital and her father's tomb, and Charles V. was seen there, but gradually the kings' grew estranged from the old city, and never appeared at Miraflores except when passing by. The monks alone remained, guardian of the sepulchres rind dispensers of a lordly hospitality* lor the monastery was the abundant granary of the indigent, the resource in years of famine. Besides affording * Jorge Mnnrique. Coplas a la muerte de su padre. f 4 The Land of the dot,. leedful succor in great public calc^ui ties, the religious every day dined fif- teen pa jpers, taken from the list of twenty honorable men and thirty- twc students, who must prove their need and good character, But now, even the monks themselves these last man (Ivories of the kings have also disap- peared. The younger members of. the community have regained the icy soli- tude of the Alps, whence descended to Spain St. Bruno's rule, and three oX men (seculars) are the sole occupants of these empty cloisters. The chant of Psalms which, night and day for three hundred years, was heard around these tombs, has ceased, and the monastery itself would be but a soulless body did not the God of Heaven daily descend The Land of tJi^ Cid. 145 upon the altar, for the repose of the dead who built, and the benefit of the f living who have profaned it. Before quitting the city of kings, I forgot to attend the royal spectacle of a bull -fight. But I am too well ac- quainted with my duties to omit this binding episode of a journey to Spain. Kvery year, at a certain period, the grand square of Burgos, with its porti- coes and its even rows ot windows, is transformed into an amphitheatre. Un- fortunately for us, the festal times were over, and the lists were crossed only by women singing some joyous refrain, as, with jar gracefully poised on their heads, they wended their way to the fountain. Nevertheless, the combat must be described, even should I seek 146 The Land of the Cid. it elsewhere. Well, then, I have the black bull of Navarre rush madly forward with lowered horns, foaming and tearing the ground at his feet ! I have seen the runners tantalize him with a drapery of bright colors waved before his eyes, and then at one bound disappear behind the palisade which encloses the arena. But the furious beast dashed after them, and when I believed them lost, pent up with him in this narrow gallery, they suddenly reappeared, calm and proud, at their posts in the arena. I could not help admiring these men, so becomingly ar- rayed in doublet and slashed small clothes, ' so strong and active, and so graceful in their movements, as to ban- ish all thought of danger. But when, 77/6' Land of t/w Cid 147 the combat waxing- warm, a host of banderilleros tormented the intrepid animal, by planting between its horns the dart which brought forth jets of blood, or the rocket which enveloped it in fire when, blinded and seeing its enemies no longer, the poor creature ran here and there, bellowing with pain and fury, and when at last a ma- tador, in habit embroidered with gold or silver, grasping his sword and bend- ing one knee to earth, asked permis- sion to strike, then I must confess my sympathy was entirely for the bull, and I lacked courage to notice whether or not the blow was struck according to the rules, for, detesting such butchery, I abruptly left the amphitheatre whilst six mules, to the noise of trumpets 143 Tke Land of the Cid. and the tumultuous applause of an ex cited crowd, dragged away the bloody body. V. THE CITY OF THE VIRGIN. Burgos, November 20, 1852. jHOUGH its kings have de- serted Burgos; the old city still retains a queen who infuses life into its veins, and whose dwelling in its midst is one of magni- ficence. This queen is the Virgin Mary. Indeed, the capital of -ancient Castile, abandoned by its nobility, without commerce, without industry, would long since have perished had it not preserved its ecclesiastical life, its metropolitan rank, and its thcom- 150 The Land of t lie Cid. parable cathedral. The power of this archbishopric, and the religious estab- lishments springing up beneath its shadow, brought together a large and intelligent body of the clergy. So many churches, ^o many convents, ne cessarily attracted a number of clerks, artisans, and even the poor, too well assured, perhaps, of always finding SOLID at the monastery gate. To-day the sanctuary is despoiled of its riches, but not its lights, for the celebrated Father Cyril, elevated to the episcopal chair of Burgos, here leads a life of peaceful activity, surrounded by those good and learned men from the highest ranks ol the hierarchy, who have so justly sus- tained the reputation of the Spanish clergy. Among them, I may mention The L.utd of the Cid. \ 5 j the venerable M. Orteaga y Ercilla, irchdean of the Chapter (arcideano), a profound theologian and a promoter of every good work, animating, by ex- ample and co-operation, an innumerable throng of young and pious laymen. With what regret we spoke of the learned and judicious Balmes, so early snatched away, not only from his coun- try, but from the church and Christian philosophy ! What hopes we built upon that less staunch, but generous and brilliant spirit, upon those bold thoughts and eloquent words of Do- noso Cortes, little dreaming that this second star of the Spanish firmament was so soon to be extinguished ! Yet 1 never fear eternal shades for a Ca- tholic country, where science is ranked 152 77/6' Land of ike Cid. amoiig the gifts of the H<. ly Ghost, and its cultivation one of the duties 6f a priest. St. Jerome's College at Burgos teaches the ancient and ori- ental languages. There are two good primary schools for boys, and it is not without pleasure I see so many rustics buying romances and legends, the, lite- rature of a simple people, I must ad mit, but still of a people who can at least read. ( have said that the Virgin Mary is the queen of this people. And in reality, during the Middle Ages, the es- tate of an episcopal church always belonged to the titular saint. He was c> considered guardian of the ecclesiasti- cal patrimony, in his name were made out the legacies and donations, in his Land of the Cid. * > 153 'hands lay the chastisement of profa- nations. Burgos, then, was Our Lady's domain, and here is the legend : Whilst evangelizing Spain, the Apostle St. James stops at Saragossa, where he converts eight pagans. Fatigued, per- 1 haps, with the discussion, he falls asleep at the foot of a pillar ; when, sur- rounded by angels, the Blessed Virgin Suddenly appears, and addressing her- self to the apostle, inspires him 'with renewed ardor. Resuming his travels, lie penetrates to the very heart of old Castile, and erects at Auca an epis- copal see, in which he is succeeded 'by his disciple Indalecius But Auca and its bishopric, swept away by a Mussulman invasion, disappeared until 10/5, when Bishop Ximeno removed I 54 The Land of the Cid. to Burgos his predecessors' bones and the Virgin's antique image, before which they had prayed. The first edifice was a poor and humble oratory. But when the glorious days of St. Ferdinand had come, this great king, who erected the cathedrals of Toledo, Osma, Tuy, and Orense, cheerfully gave up his palace to Bishop Maurice that it might make way for Our Lady of Burgos. Mau- rice, who planned the church, laid the first stone on the 2Oth of July, 1221. The proportions he wished spacious and imposing, such as were fitting the capital of a victorious people, but the very grandeur of the design prevented his living to see its accomplishment. The Spaniards, who are never prompt in execution, who took eight hundred The Laud of the Cid. 155 years to reconquer their country, were more than two centuries finishing their cathedral. It seems even that the Vir- gin, as if meaning to reprove the tar- diness of these old Christians, selected from a despised race the man who was to finish St. Ferdinand's work this was the Bishop Alonso, a con- verted Jew of a strict Pharisee family, yet which gloried in being descen- dants of the same line as Mary the Mother of Jesus. Baptized in youth, with his father and four brothers, he received holy orders, became Bishop of Burgos, and one of the lights of the Spanish Church, which he represented nobly at the Council of Bale. Return- ing from the borders of the Rhine, he brought with him Jean of CoVgne 1 56 T/ie Land of t lie Czd. -who, in 1442, resuming the interrupted work, r^eyated the fiagade, and flanked it with the two towers.* After visiting the walls of Diego Porcellos, the remains of the royal castle, and the arch of Fernan Gon- zalez, the first sight that strikes us on leaving these sad, deserted quarters is the fagade of the cathedral with its two arrowy steeples, and gazing on this edi- fice, which never grows old, vye bless God for having placed upon earth a power more durable than that of heroes and kings. The Cathedral of Burgos has truly the appearance of a new edifice. Though not without majesty, its chief * Dom Pedro Orcajo, Historia de la Catedral di Burgos. Pons, Viagc. The Land of the Cid. 157 points are elegance and grace. I can i'not, however, include here ; the \ first steps of the fagade or the principal entrance, disfigured by modern vita- lism. But above this degraded sub- base arises the Gothic arch, and, still higher, a rich gallery displays under its arcades eight statues of kings ranged like a guard of honor; then, two long arched windows, and the front of the -edifice terminates in a marvellously wrought railing, the design forming this inscription : " Tola pulchra es et decora" The towers that flank the two sides attain each a height of three hundred feet, and though unparalleled in the delicacy of their net-work,; they defy all the storms of Castile. The embroidery of stone surrounding them 1 5 r 5 fhe Land of the Cid. forms on one side the words A<>mt,$ o Dei; c&* ttie other, Pax vobi*. and these peaceful proclamations in an age of violence were no less miraculous than the two arrowy sr.'res, firm and unscathed in the midst of storms. We must now ascend the caile alia, which leads to the northern entrance. First appears the entrance itseif, orna- mented with the twelve Apostles, watching at the feet of Christ; then the cathedral apsis, with its two rows of windows, its buttresses, its bell tur- rets, the whole surrounded by an ele- gant balustrade, guarded at intervals by angels with unfurled wings, and whom an imaginative mind might easily suppose the true architects of tlsls aerial cathedral, watching over and The Land if the Cid. 159 protecting it. The particu'ars we -a e already mentioned would si rtice to make it a beautiful church, but we have not yet mentioned the two ornaments which are its especial pride. On the right, where nave and transept intersect to form the cross, rises a large octagon tower, el Crucero, to the height of two hundred and thirty feet. It is lighted by two rows of windows, and from each of the eight angles is a smaller tower, carved, peopled with saints, and termi- nating in a slender spire. Behind the church, the cupola of the Constable's chapel less elevated, but thoroughly octagon reproduces the same decora- tions. These are the two diadems of this queen of Spanish basilicas. It is said that Charles V. at first sight of Y6o The Land of the Cid. the Crucero was struck with admira tion. " This jewel," said he, " must he put in a casket, and treated as so;, e rare thing that one longs to have, but seldom sees." Most assuredly the passing stranger does not endorse this ; but ravished with the spectacle, he cannot forbear applying to it these words, inscribed upon its fagacle in honor of the Blessed Virgin, " Tola pulchra cs et decora" How willingly would we linger around these towers, or gaze enchant- ed upon the beautiful specimens of Sculpture decorating the side door of the Pellegeria, or stop to admire the southern entrance, where a more an- clent hand has depicted, in Byzan- tine stjle, the Eternal Judge, stir- The Land of -the &id. 161 rounded by the symbols of the four Evangelists! But it is tin>e to - cross the threshold, and the edifice whose elegance and grace resembled a jewel now becomes immense and seems a world. But it is a world which God him- self fills, and indeed a divine symbol- ism has infused thought into these scones, or rather the power of awaken- ing thought, both in ourselves arrd the many generations who knelt here ages before us. It is the dogma of our re- demption, a Latin cross, which forms the plan of the edifice, whilst the mystery of the Holy Trinity presides over all the proportions : three naves ;he principal divided into nine gal- .eries, three for the vestibule, three 1 62 T/wfcLand oj the Cut. for the choir, three for the sanc- tuary. Indeed, as we advance from the imposing portico to the splendors of the apsis we seem to behold the whole economy of the Christian life typified in this edifice Our first impression of the nave is that of rare majesty, but a majesty which strikes us as strained. We rec- ognize the efforts of the Gothic art to disengage itself from the Bvzan- O O j tine. The galleries are wide and low and the massive arcade surmounting them has no decorations save a few sprays of trefoil. Were we to give these walls language, they would utter words of recollection and peni- tence, the first degrees of initiation into Catholic truth, and in reality we The Land of the GKd. 163 are now within the space appropriated by the rules of the ancient liturgy to penitents and catechumens. At the fourth gallery commences the choir; on each side two rows of stalls, on which are represented, in beautifully carved workmanship, the principal scenes of the Bible and the legends of the saints. Elegant statuettes crown the wainscoting which relieves these naked walls.* But the choir is already flooded with the transept's brilliant light, even as the beams of * The choir is now separated from the vestibule by a massive decoration which Cardinal Zapata had erected at the beginning of the seventeenth century, as a support to the archiepiscopal chiir. This chair, of thoroughly classic work- manship, is carved to represent the capture of f' iropa. 164 The Land of the Cid. contemplation succeed the laborious exercises of penance. Here, also, the light conies from above ; it descends in a torrent through the octagon tower of the Crucero, whose exterior we have already admired. The in- terior has more majesty. Four -pillars of a marvellous height sustain this great cupola, which is lighted by long arched windows, and decorated by bundles of ribs meeting at the summit, and forming a "star which crowns the edifice, as the star of the Magi rested over Bethlehem's crib the first, the poorest, and the holiest of cathedrals. Still another degree in the mystic life, and the soul arrives at the muse intimate union with its God. A few more steps and we reach the sine The Land of the C id. 165 tuary, where Christ in the Eucharist perfects his alliance with humanity. The sanctuary of Burgos, exempt from wainscoting, opens to the sacred cere- monies a magnificent and luminous space. Six large silver candelabra decorate the altar steps. Behind, the altar-piece, reaching to the very roof, closes the perspective. The two Flem ish painters who achieved this work wished it to proclaim the triumph of Our Lady, patroness of Burgos* Eleven bas-reliefs, in gilded wood, re- trace the Virgin's life from the nup- tials of St. Joachim and St. Anne to the coronation of the Queen of Heaven. But as if reminding us thai her triumph, like that of every Christian sou 1 ,, must be. accomplished tct; Tke Land of the Cid. through sorrow, all this is surmount- ed by the image of Mary at the foot of the cross. Large statues repre- senting angels, the apostles, and the evangelists, separate the bas-reliefs, whilst the intervening spaces are filled with symbolic plants, enveloping in their scrolls and tendrils the medal- lions and names of a host of saints, martyrs, doctors, pontiffs, who were the glory of the Spanish church St, Vincent, St. Isidore, St. Dominic. All these great men are grouped around a woman no less celebrated than them- selves, and who lived at the very time the altar-piece of Burgos was designed- I mean St. Teresa. If now the architect has not failed in Lia mission, and these sermons of The Land of the Cid. 167 wood and stone which greeted our entrance have accompanied us to the very sanctuary, growing* more earnest and eloquent at every step, you will admire no longer; but, humbled and overcome, you will bend the knee in prayer, like the poor Spaniard telling his Rosary at your side. You have seen enough for one day. But it is not so easy to have done with these grand Christian monu- ments. When, after measuring with his steps the lateral naves, and contemplating the beautiful perspectives formed by the long arms cf the Cross, one be- lieves he has at last seen all the beauties of the cathedral, to his as- tonishment he perceives that there ,i68 The Land of t fie Cid. still remain to be visited a superb cloister and a long line of chapels, several of which have become like: so many churches around the principal edifice. Some contain many touching souvenirs, whilst others are noted for their rich altars and sepulchres. At Burgos, as in several of the grand Italian basilicas for instance, at Ven- ice, Padua, Florence we never finish seeing, because Christian art never finishes creating. God himself reposed on the seventh day ; he saw that his work was good and the perfect realization of his idea ; but Christian art never reposes, because its produc- tions fall infinitely short of the ideal. I cannot forget the cloister, peopled with both the illustrious silent dead, 7 he Land of the Cid 169 and the obscure but very noisy living. Here we find statues of St. Ferdi- nand and his wife Beatrix ; then a long line of saints, bishops, and juris- consults. At the same time we per- ceive a host of student lords buried in their mantles, and repeating theif lessons aloud. Happily the lesson is Latin, and should a few words chance to reach the poor slumberers lying here, they would still be unconscious of the change of ages. 1 shall not persuade you to visit all these chapels it would be equal to Homer's enumeration of the Greek fleet. But how can I pass unnoticed St. Gregory's oratory, or that of the Crucifix, with their beautiful legends ? The former contains St. Casilda's re- 170 The Land of the C id. lies, a patroness of old Castile, and whose history recalls the period when t\vo religions, two peoples, lived in a perpetual struggle upon the same soil. Casilda was the only and beloved daughter of the Mussulman king who reigned at Toledo in the eleventh century. Being touched with compas- sion for the Christian captives who languished in the dungeons of her fa- ther's castle, whilst feasting and revelry filled the air, she secretly made them a daily visit, carrying concealed pre- sents of wine and other nourishment. One evening, when met by the king, and urged to declare the contents of her robe, she answered, " Father, they are roses;" and letting fall the garment, behold, a shower of blossoms were The Land jof Ike Cid. 171. scattered .at her feet! In gratitude to their benefactress, the prisoners taught her to know Christ and his Mother. But an inflexible fatality seeming to debar her the gates of the church, Gocl opened them by afflicting her with a malady that resisted every care and tenderness. At length she is warned in a vision that health will not be restored until she has bathed in the waters of Lake St. Vincent, near Briviesca, in a Christian land. The distracted father consents, and Casilda sets out on her journey as becomes a princess, attended by a numerous train, and loaded with presents for King Ferdinand I., then reigning in Burgos, Her reception is one in every way befitting that of a princess. Soon after i 72 The Land of the Cid. her arrival, plunging into the waters of Lake St. Vincent, and emerging from them vigorous and rosy, as had been predicted, she demanded bap- tism ; after which, dismissing her at- tendants, she built herself a cell near the lake, and there spent the remainder of her days in works of penance. Yearly, the I7th of April leads to St. Casilda's hermitage all the laborers and herdsmen of the neighboring moun- tains, who reverently gather the little red stones scattered about these places where the saint chastised her body, believing them stained with her blood. Do not shrug your shoulders at these good people, or inveigh against Spanish superstition ; it is the human element of their nature that makes tb^ The Land of tlie Cid. 1 73 Spaniards love these devotions appeal- ing to the senses. For the Blessed Virgin and the saints they have a ten- der veneration; but the ardor of their piety centres in what is most spiritual in Christianity the sacrifice of Christ. Hence, the number of soldiers, pea- sants, artisans, gentlemen of leisure, who every day hear Mass at the Ca- thedral of Burgos ; hence, also, the crowd thronging the Chapel of the Crucifix. The history of this crucifix (el santisimo Cristo de Burgos] is no doubt miraculous. Tradition attributes it to the disciple Nicodemus, by whom it was cn r ed from the wood of a plant not of earthly growth. After many vicissitudes, the holy image, im- pelled by wind and wave drifted from 174 The Land of the Citf. the shores of Palestine into Biscay Bay, where a merchant of Burgos, found it floating upon the waters, Spanish piety has thrown around it the halo of many prodigies ; one of the most touching I will relate. A golden crown had been placed upon the head of the Christ; but the holy head, de- siring no other crown than thcd of thorns, bent forward, and the rich dia- dem rested at -its feet. Assuredly this legend cannot fail to inspire devotion, and whilst gazing upon the crucifix in the midst of a prayerful multitude, my lips murmured aloud the two fol- lowing stanzas of an old poem which expresses the sentiments of a Christian heart : " God of immensity ! thou who never failest, who createdst the uni- Che Land of the Cid. 175 verse ; thou true God, who from excess of love for us didst expire upon the cross : simce thou wouldst suffer suck agony for our sins, O Lamb of God! grant us a place with the good thief, whom thou didst save only because he said, * Remember me.' * We have reserved until now our visit to the marvel of Castile that marvel of wealth and beauty to which the traveller always devotes an hour, has he but one to spend in Burgos I mean the Constable's Chapel, which is cited as the type of the Spanish Re- laissance, even as the English Re- naissance has its hi the chapel of Henry VII. at Westminster. This * These verses are those of Juan Taliante who iivcd in the fifteenth century. 176 The Lane? of the Cid. monument is so well known, pencil and engraving have so popi^arized its beau- ties, that I almost feel dispensed frorr> attempting those indescribable details which would leave the reader with only a few confused ideas of the edifice, when, in reality, I would wish to as- tonish and delight him. I shall merely mention the characteristic features and the names of its honored founders. In the year 1487, the Constable Hernan- dez de Velasco and his wife Doria Mencia requested permission, as an act of penance, to rebuild St. Peter's oratory, which adjoined the cathedral apsis. The design of the new chapel was octagon-shaped. Exteriorly, it. harmonized with the cathedral, whose principal ornaments it reproduced; in- The Land of the Cid. 1 7 7 teriorly, it combined all the boldness of the Gothic with the grace of the Span- ish Renaissance. An arcade, orna- mented with admirable bas-reliefs, and the very grating of which is a master- piece itself, conducts from the church to the chapel. Having crossed this vestibule, we suddenly find ourselves under an elevated, luminous dome. Slender colonnades mark the angles, and rise up in a ^t to the point where they turn to enclose the arched win- dows, or form the eight-pointed star that crowns the whole. Beneath the windows open the galleries, proudly surmounted by so many figures of warriors, lance in hand. All around hangs a festoon of stonework, surpass- ing in beauty and delicacy the most 178 The Land of the Cid. elaborate embroidery. This splendid decoration has nothing superfluous, it even leaves large naked spaces lega- cies, no doubt, from the founders to the piety of their children. As to , themselves, having accomplished their ; part, its founders repose in the centre of the noble edifice. The sub base of the mausoleum is only a block of : marble, devoid of those decorations which enrich the sepulchres at Mira- flores. But the figures of the Consta- ble and his wife are beautiful, the armor and drapery wrought with rare delicacy. The sculptor's name is not , given. I can learn only that the two statues were executed in Italy in the year 1542. The Inscription reads: \ "Here lies the most illustrious Don 77/6 Land of the Cid. 179 Pedro Hernandez de Velasco, Con- stable of Castile, and Viceroy of this country for their Catholic Majes- ties. He died in 1492, aged sixty-six. And with him lies the most illus- trious lady Dona Mencia, Countess of Haro, daughter of Don Lopez de Mendoza and Dona Catalina de Figue- roa, Marquis and Marchioness of San- ; tiilane. She died in the year 1500, aged seventy- nine." These two epitaphs unite the grandest names of the middle ages of Spain, names which seem with them to have descended into the tomb, but peacefully and gently. We fecog- nize here as at Miraflores, both in monument and poet's song, the Cas- I? tilian spirit as it sprang* from the native soil, religious, chivalrous, pomp- 1 80 The Land of the Cid. otis, but amiable and serene, ing no trace of that solemnity, that sombre grandeur which it imbibed from foreign climes, when the Austrian princes, wishing to make Spain mis- tress of the whole world, crushed her beneath the burden. And now the moment has come when I must say adieu to these beau- tiful scenes I shall visit no more, and to which I leave suspended a part of those affections and regrets already binding me to so many old cities, mountains, and shores. A spot in Sicily, where clusters of olive-trees shade some broken columns ; an ora- tory in the catacombs of Rome ; at the foot of the Pyrenees a chapel skirted by limpid waters, stealing through The Land of the Cid. 1 8 1 masses of tangled ivy, and the mel- ancholy beach along the coasts of Bre- tagne, are all souvenirs of travel re- turning with infinite charm, especially when the present is sad and the fu- ture lowering. I shall add Burgos to these pilgrimages of thought, consoling the sorrowful pilgrimage of life. Suffer me, then, to take one last look at the cathedral Let me kneel in this glorious sanctuary, before the Virgin of the altar-piece, and if the prayer of a Catholic scandalizes you, listen not. "O Our Lady of Burgos! who art also Our Lady of Pisa and Milan, of Cologne and Paris, of Amiens and Chartres, Queen of all the grand Catholic cities, yes, truly you are beau- 1 82 The Land of the Cid. tiful and gracious ! Pulchra es et de- cora, since the thought of you alone has clothed man's works with so much grace and beauty. Barbarians, they left their forests rough and ferocious; these incendiaries of cities seemed to breathe only vengeance and destruc- tion. You rendered them so gentle that they willingly obeyed masters, and drew heavy loads to help build your churches ; so patient that they considered as naught the ages spent in carving your superb portals, gal- leries, and spires, so aspiring that the height of their basilicas has far out- stripped the most ambitious Roman edifices, and at the same time so chaste that all these grand architectural creations with their host of marble The Land of the Cid. 183 forms, breathe only parity and spiritual love. You have vanquished even the pride of these Castilians, who abhorred work as the sign of servitude ; you have disarmed numberless hands whose only glory was in shedding blood, and giving them the trowel and chisel in place of the sword, for three hundred . years have you retained them in your peaceful studios. O Our Lady ! how God has rewarded the humility of his servant, and in return for the poor house of Nazareth where you lodged his Son, how many rich dwellings has he not bestowed upon you ! " A Christian lady who had also visited the Cathedral of Burgos, and often prayed in its sanctuaries, asks what God will do on the last day 184 The Land of the Cut. with these admirable worlds erected to his honor by the tender piety of so many generations? Must that fire which purifies the earth envelop in destruction these towers that proclaim his praises, these sacred arches guard- ed by angels, these pure Madonnas and saints in humble adoration? And, moreover, will He, who glories in being called the Sovereign artist, destroy so many mosaics and frescoes radiant with eternal beauty ? Why might not these monuments also have their immortality and their resurrection ? Who knows but what, miraculously saved, they will one day ornament the New Jerusalem, which St. John describes as resplend- ent with jasper and crystal? VI. Behobia Bridge, November ax, 1852. |HE wintry wings of winter have driven us off the road to Compostello, and our friends urge us not even to con- tinue our route to Madrid. What! shall we come this far without tak- ing a glimpse at Pampeluna and the gorges where the Basques boast of having defeated Charlemagne and his twelve knights? To be sure, my conscience is at ease in regard to Roland's pass, having actually seen the 1 86 The Land of the Cid. breach which his sword made in the neighboring mountain of Gavarnie, and the two prints of his horse's feet in the rock. Unyielding prudence recalls us by the shortest route. We are consoled, however, on retracing our steps to- wards the north, to find ourselves grad- ually approaching a land of verdure and sun. We have already redescend- ed the rude passage of the Salinas. It is Sunday morning, the smiling valley resounds with bells and the peasants, in joyous groups, are col- lecting around the church-doors. Here we see in all its freedom the sprig ht- liness and gayety of old Spain, and the song of the muleteer or hotel servant, that chances to greet us now, The Land of the Cid. 187 is bright and sparkling. Even at High Mass, in the principal church of Tolosa, the organist treated us to a very animated polka, yet the piety of the faithful seemed in nowise disturbed by this undevout music. I saw all around me in profound adora- tion and fervent prayer stalwart, handsome youths, equally capable of handling a musket, or discussing the fueros of the nation, and women has- tening with their offerings, a white loaf and a taper ; whilst others, who were widows, knelt upon a black car- pet between two torches, and begged prayers for their poor dead. Our souvenirs of travel become dearer, and our unwillingness to lose an item greater in proportion as we 1 88 .The Land ^of the Cid, approach the frontiers. How, indeed; could we pass over in silence the little village of Irun, which is an epi- tome of modern, as Fortarabia's ruins are of ancient Spain? Here, then, is the church of Irun, spacious and filled with a devout multitude. Under the shadow of its spire is the parochial school, whose refreshing tidiness might tempt the most refractory urchin ; then the market, alive with active, cunning peasants ; now the palace of the gov- ernor, not devoid of elegance; be- fore it, upon a graceful column, an image of St. John the Baptist, patron of the little city; and lastly, the pretty white houses, a glimpse of whose courts reveal the laurels and jasmines of my dreams. Oh! what a fine op- Land of the Cid. ^89 portunity for a formal discourse whilst the officials, with solemn slowness, in- spect our passports. And why, in times like these, when counsellors are so numerous, should I refuse my ad- vice to a nation whom I have known eight days ? I would tell Spain that she has made a good, wise peace with the Holy See, nobly defending its in- dependence against the schemes of the interested, who sought to place it under tutelage, that she has taught nations more experienced than herself how to maintain the tradition of authority with- out stifling public liberty. It now re- mains for her to resume among the Christian powers the grand part which has been assigned her. Not in vain does one of her coasts look towards i go The Land of the Cid. Italy; she is no longer to dream of conquests there, but neither must she permit this classic land to be over- run by invaders from the North. An- other coast turns towards America, whose keys Christopher Columbus found, only to let them fall into the hands of oil and cotton merchants. In less than twenty-five years, Turkey repaired the disasters of Navarino ; Spain cannot live always unmindful of Trafalgar's smoking ruins. And lastly,, from her third coast she descries Af- rica, where the vanquished Alcoran, vainly endeavors to reanimate the fana- ticism of its sectaries. The Spaniards justify their bull-fights as a school of courage which cultivates the mili- tary qualities of the nation. We have The Land of the Cid. 191 placed within their reach a better school of soldiers : the shores of Mo- rocco are their promises, and their army needs no stronger stimulant than i union with that civilizing crusade which would make the Mediterranean a Chris- tian lake. But Spain hears me no longer. We are now at Behobia Bridge, w r here the two colors, Castilian and French, re- 'gard each other with the look of old acquaintances, who have met amidst powder and ball. Before touching the soil of France, and in gratitude to Our Lady for having brought us safely back, let me repeat an old canticle from the poet, Gil Vincent : - Oh ! how oracious is Our Lady, Beautiful beyond compare! 1 92 The Lnnd of the Cid. 4< Tell me, hardy mariner. Whose home is on the sea, If ship, or sail, or wave reveal Aught beautiful as she ? "Tell me, armed warrior, If to thine eye there be, In steed, or arms, or battle's din, Aught beautiful as she? *< Tell me, little herdsman, *Mid sun and floweret free, Seest thou in flock, in vale or mount, Aught beautiful as she ? " We began our pilgrimage with a psalm; we finish with a canticle. 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. f Feb'SSPT x viSt 1 ^fo^ ... ov>^ ^ i ft &> Q 4 4QCQ 3Dec'64SM . ^ , - r * ifS 1 I ^ Tfira a i RJDo VPw -itu.<- -/ ~ JL - / ^ _. ,- o r* s*\ n. E l FEB2 65 -8 AM OBRARY US* JAN 3 1 1985 OCT7 1951 PvH 1 ocr 7 TO ^g^ &^ , f^ _ .~_ i T :u_,. GENERAL LIBRARY -U.C. BERKELEY 285043 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY i "