No More Learning

3721 (#79) ############################################

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3721
or lunar arch, is attended with a very deep and grave sound.
For the ninth sphere, the earth, embracing the middle region of
the universe, stays immovably in one fixed place. But those
eight globes between, two of which have the same essential
action, produce tones, distinguished by intervals, to the number
of seven; which number indeed is the knot of almost all things.
Men of skill, by imitating the result on the strings of the lyre,
or by means of the human voice, have laid open for themselves
a way of return to this place, just as other men of lofty souls
have done the same by devoting themselves during their earthly
life to the study of what is divine. But the ears of men, sur-
feited by this harmony have become deaf to it; nor is there in
you any duller sense: just as, at that cataract which is called
Catadupa, where the Nile rushes down headlong from the lofty
mountain-tops,—the people who dwell in that neighborhood have
lost the sense of hearing in consequence of the magnitude of the
sound. So likewise this harmony, produced by the excessively
rapid revolution of the whole universe, is so great that the ears
of men are not able to take it in, in the same manner as you are
not able to look the sun in the eye, and your sight is overcome
by the power of its rays. " Though I was filled with wonder,
nevertheless I kept turning my eyes from time to time to the
earth.
-
"I perceive," then said Africanus, "that thou still continuest
to contemplate the habitation of the home of man. If that seems
to thee as small as it really is, keep then thy eyes fixed on
these heavenly objects; look with contempt on those of mortal
life. For what notoriety that lives in the mouths of men, or
what glory that is worthy of being sought after, art thou able
to secure? Thou seest that the earth is inhabited in a few small
localities, and that between those inhabited places-spots as it
were on the surface - vast desert regions lie spread out; and
that those who inhabit the earth are not only so isolated that no
communication can pass among them from one to another, but
that some dwell in an oblique direction as regards you, some in
a diagonal, and some stand even exactly opposite you. From
these you are certainly not able to hope for any glory.
"Moreover, thou observest that this same earth is surrounded,
and as it were, girdled, by certain zones, of which thou seest
that two- the farthest apart, and resting at both sides on the
very poles of the sky-are stiffened with frost; and that, again,
* Mercury and Venus.


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3722
MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
the central and largest one is burnt up with the heat of the sun.
Two are habitable: of these the southern one, in which dwell
those who make their footprints opposite yours, is a foreign
world to your race. But even this other one, which lies to the
north, which you occupy, see with how small a part of it you
come into contact! For all the land which is cultivated by you,
very narrow at the extremities but wider at the sides, is only a
small island surrounded by that water which on earth you call
the Atlantic, or the great sea, or the ocean. But though its
name is so high-sounding, yet thou beholdest how small it is.
From these cultivated and well-known regions can either thy
name or the name of any of us surmount and pass this Cau-
casus which thou seest, or cross yonder flood of the Ganges?
Who in the farthest remaining regions of the rising and the
setting sun, or on the confines of the north and the south, will
hear thy name? When these are taken away, thou assuredly
perceivest how immense is the littleness of that space in which
your reputation seeks to spread itself abroad. Moreover, even
those who speak of us, for how long a time will they speak?
"Nay, even if the generations of men were desirous, one
after the other, to hand down to posterity the praises of any one
of us heard from their fathers, nevertheless, on account of the
changes in the earth, wrought by inundations and conflagra-
tion, which are sure to recur at certain fixed epochs,— we are
not simply unable to secure for ourselves a glory which lasts
forever, but are even unable to gain a glory which lasts for a
long time. Moreover, of what value is it that the speech of
those who are to be born hereafter shall be about thee, when
nothing has been said of thee by all those who were born before,
who were neither fewer in number and were unquestionably
better men; especially when no one is able to live in the memory
of those very persons by whom one's name can be heard, for
the space of one year?
"For men commonly measure the year by the return to its
place of the sun alone,- that is, of one star; but when all the
stars shall have returned to that same point from which they
once set out, and after a long period of time have brought back.
the same relative arrangement of the whole heaven, that, then,
can justly be called the complete year. In it I hardly dare say
how many ages of human life are contained. For once in the
past the sun seemed to disappear from the eyes of men and to
be annihilated, at the time when the soul of Romulus made its
-
-


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MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3723
way into this very temple. When, from the same region of the
sky and at the same moment of time, the sun shall have again
vanished, then be sure that all constellations and stars have
come back to the position they had in the beginning, and that
the perfect year is completed. Of that year know that now not
even the twentieth part has passed.
"Wherefore, if thou givest up the hope of a return to this
place, in which all things exist for lofty and pre-eminent souls,
yet of how much value is that human glory which can hardly
endure for even the small part of a single year? But if, as I
was saying, thou wishest to look on high, and to fix thy gaze
upon this abode of the blest and this eternal home, never give
thyself up to the applause of the vulgar, nor rest the recom-
pense of thy achievements in the rewards which can be bestowed
upon thee by men. It is incumbent on thee that Virtue herself
shall draw thee by her own charm to true glory. As for the
way in which others talk about thee, let them take care of
that themselves; yet without doubt they will talk. But all such
renown is limited to the petty provinces of the regions which
thou seest: nor in the case of any one is it everlasting; for it
both dies with the death of men and is buried in oblivion by
the forgetfulness of posterity. "
When he had said these things, "O Africanus! " I replied, "if
the path that leads to the entrance of heaven lies open to those
who have rendered great service to their country, although, in
following from my boyhood in thy footsteps and in those of my
father, I have not failed in sustaining the honor derived from
you, yet henceforth I shall toil with far more zeal, now that so
great a reward has been held out before me. "-"Do thou
indeed," said he, "continue to strive; and bear this in mind,
that thou thyself art not mortal, but this body of thine. For
thou art not the one which that form of thine proclaims thee to
be: but the soul of any one, that alone is he; not that external
shape which can be pointed out with the finger. Therefore
know thyself to be a god, if that is essentially god which lives,
which feels, which remembers, which foresees, which rules and
regulates and moves that body over which it is put in authority,
as the Supreme Being governs this universe. And as the eter-
nal God moves the world, which in a certain point of view is
perishable, so the incorruptible soul moves the corruptible
body. For what always moves itself is eternal; but that which


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MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
3724
communicates to anything a motion which it has itself received
from another source, must necessarily have an end of life when
it has an end of motion: therefore that alone never ceases to
move which moves itself, for the reason that it is never deserted
by itself.
This indeed is the well-head; this the beginning of
motion to all other things that are moved. But to a beginning
there is no birth; for all things are born from the beginning.
But it itself cannot be born of anything; for that would not be
a beginning which sprang from some other source.
And just
as it is never begotten, so it never dies; for a beginning anni-
hilated could neither itself be brought back to life by anything
else, nor could it create anything else out of itself, since it is
necessary that all things should come from a beginning.
results that the beginning of motion is in itself, because it is
self-moved. And this can neither be born nor die, for if it did,
the heavens would fall to ruin, and all nature would stand still;
nor could it come into the possession of any power by the
original impulse of which it might be put into motion.
"Since therefore it is clear that what is self-moved is eter-
nal, who can deny that this essential characteristic has been
imparted to the soul? For everything which is moved by a
foreign impulse is without a soul; but that which lives is made.
to go by an inward motion of its own, for this is the special
nature and power of the soul. But if it is the one thing among
all which is self-moved, then certainly it has had no beginning,
and is eternal. Do thou, then, employ it in the noblest duties.
But those are the loftiest cares which are concerned with the
well-being of our native land. The soul that is inspired by
these, and occupied with them, will hasten the quicker into this
its real home and habitation. So much the more speedily indeed
will it do this, if while it is shut up in the body it shall pass
beyond its limits, and by the contemplation of those things
which are outside of it shall withdraw itself as far as possible
from the body. For the souls of those who have given them-
selves up to sensual pleasures, and have made themselves as it
were ministers to these, and who under the pressure of desires
which are subservient to these pleasures have violated the laws
of God and man, when they shall have parted from the body,
will fly about the earth itself, nor will return to this place until
they shall have suffered torments for many ages. " He departed.
I awoke from my sleep.


## p. 3725 (#83) ############################################

3725
--
THE CID
(1045? -1099)
BY CHARLES SPRAGUE SMITH
N THE Cid we have two distinct personages, Rodrigo or Ruy
Diaz (Dia son of Diego) who flourished during the last half
of the eleventh century; and that legendary hero of Spanish
epic poems, ballads, and dramas, whom Philip II. tried to have can-
onized. We are not left to our own conjectures as to the character
and life of the historical Cid. Both Spanish and Arabic records
place the main facts beyond all controversy.
He was born at Bivar, a hamlet three miles north of Burgos
(circa 1040-1050), of an ancient Castilian family claiming descent from
Lain Calvo, one of the two judges who, tradition declares, was
named by the Castilian people as their governor after the Leonese
king had treacherously put their counts to death (circa 923).
The period of the Cid coincides with the political disruption of
Arabic Spain. The Caliphate of Cordova, which in the preceding
century had attained its high point in power and in all the arts of
civilization, had fallen. A multitude of petty Moorish States disputed
with each other the heritage of the Ommiad caliphs. The Christian
States were not slow to profit by their opportunity. Ferdinand I. of
Leon-Castile (surnamed the Great, 1037-65) not only extended his
territory at the expense of the Moors, but also imposed tribute upon
four of their more important States - Saragossa, Toledo, Badajoz, and
Seville. Valencia only escaped a similar fate through his death.
The Peninsula was at this time divided among a large number of
mutually independent and warring States, Christian and Moslem.
The sentiments of loyalty to religion and to country were univer-
sally subordinated to those of personal interest; Christians fought
under Moorish banners, Moors under Christian. Humanity toward
the enemy, loyalty to oaths, were not virtues in the common estima-
tion. Between the Christian States of Leon and Castile great
jealousy ruled. Castile had come into being as a border province of
the Asturian kingdom, governed by military counts. From the first
there seems to have been a spirit of resistance to the overrule of the
Asturian kings (later known as kings of Leon). Finally, under its
Count Fernan Gonzalez (who died 970), Castile secured its independ-
ence. But whether leading a separate political existence, or united
with Leon, Castile was ever jealously sensitive of any precedence


## p. 3726 (#84) ############################################

3726
THE CID
claimed or exercised by its sister kingdom. Ferdinand I. of Leon-
Castile, treating his territorial possessions as personal property,-a
policy repeatedly fatal to all advance in Spanish history,― divided
them at his death (1005), among his five children. Sancho, the
eldest, received Castile, Nahera, and Pampeluna; Alfonso, Leon, and
the Asturias; Garcia, Galicia, and that portion of Portugal which
had been wrested from the Moors; Urraca received the city of
Zamora; and Elvira, Toro.
The expected occurred. Sancho made war on his brothers, com-
pelling both to flee to Moorish territories, and wrested Toro from
Elvira. Rodrigo Diaz, the Cid, appears first at this period. He is
the alferez, i. e. , the standard-bearer, or commander-in-chief under the
King, in Sancho's army. The brother Kings, Sancho and Alfonso,
had agreed to submit their dispute to a single combat, the victor to
receive the territories of both. Alfonso's Leonese army conquered
the Castilian, and relying upon the agreement withdrew to its tents.
Rodrigo Diaz was already known as the Campeador,-a title won
through his having vanquished in single combat the champion of
Sancho of Navarre, and signifying probably one skilled in battle, or
champion.
Rodrigo gave a wily counsel to the routed Castilians. "The
Leonese are not expecting an attack," he said; "let us return and
fall upon them at unawares. " The counsel was followed; the victors,
resting in their tents, were surprised at daybreak, and only a few,
Alfonso among the number, escaped with their lives. Alfonso was
imprisoned at Burgos, but soon released at the entreaty of the Prin-
cess Urraca, on condition of his becoming a monk. Availing himself
of such liberty, he escaped from the monastery to the Moorish court
of Mamoun, King of Toledo. Sancho ruled thus over the entire
heritage of his father,-Zamora excepted, the portion of Urraca.
While laying siege to that city, he was slain by a cavalier in
Urraca's service, Bellido Dolfos, who, sallying from the city, made
good his escape, though almost overtaken by the avenging Campea-
dor, 1072.
Alfonso, the fugitive at Toledo, was now rightful heir to the
throne; and however reluctant the Castilian nobles were to recog-
nize the authority of a Leonese king, they yielded to necessity. It
is asserted-but the historical evidence here is not complete - that
before recognizing Alfonso's authority the Castilian nobles required
of him an oath that he had no part in his brother's murder, and that
it was the Campeador who administered this oath, 1073. Whatever
the facts, Alfonso will have thought it wise to conciliate the good-
will of the Castilian grandees, and especially that of their leader
Rodrigo, until at least his own position became secure. To this we


## p. 3727 (#85) ############################################

THE CID
3727
may attribute his giving to Rodrigo in marriage of Jimena, daughter
of Diego, Count of Oviedo, and first cousin of the King. The mar-
riage contract, bearing date 1074, is preserved at Burgos.
Some years later Rodrigo was sent to collect the tribute due
Alfonso by his vassal Motamid, King of Seville. Finding the King
of Granada at war with Motamid, Rodrigo requested him not to
attack an ally of Alfonso. But prayers and threats were alike un-
availing; it came to battle, and Rodrigo conquered. Among the pris-
oners were several Christians in the service of Granada, notably
Garcia Ordonez, a scion of the royal Leonese house. Not long after,
we find Rodrigo charged with having appropriated to his own use a
portion of the tribute and gifts sent to Alfonso by Motamid, Garcia
Ordonez being his chief accuser. Taking advantage of the pretext-
it can have been but a pretext-of Rodrigo's attacking the Moors
without first securing the royal consent, Alfonso banished him. Old
wrongs still rankling in the King's memory furnished probably the
real motive.
And now began that career as soldier of fortune which has fur-
nished themes to Spanish poets of high and low degree, and which,
transformed and idealized by tradition, has made of Rodrigo the per-
fect cavalier of crusading Christian Spain. He offered first, it would
seem, his service and that of his followers to the Christian Count of
Barcelona, and when refused by him, to the Moorish King of Sara-
gossa. This State was one of the more important of those resulting
from the distribution of the Caliphate of Cordova. The offer was
accepted, and Rodrigo remained here until 1088, serving successively
three generations of the Beni-Hud, father, son, and grandson, war-
ring indifferently against Christians and Moors, and through his suc-
cesses rising to extraordinary distinction and power.
At this time - 1088- the attention of both Mostain, the King of
Saragossa, and of his powerful captain Rodrigo, was drawn to Valen-
cia. This city after the fall of the Caliphate of Cordova had been
ruled for forty-four years by descendants of Almanzor, the great
Prime Minister of the last period of the Ommiad dynasty. Mamoun,
King of Toledo, who sheltered the fugitive Alfonso, deposed the last
of these Valencian kings, his son-in-law, and annexed the State to his
own dominion. At Mamoun's death in 1075 Valencia revolted; the
governor declared himself independent and placed himself under
Alfonso's protection.
Ten years later Mamoun's successor, the weak Cadir, finding his
position a desperate one, offered to yield up to Alfonso his own capi-
tal Toledo, on condition that the latter should place Valencia in his
hands. Alfonso consented. Valencia was too weak to offer resist-
ance, but Cadir proved equally incompetent as king and as general.
Depending entirely upon his Castilian soldiery, captained by Alvar


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3728
THE CID
Fañez, a kinsman of Rodrigo, he grievously burdened the people in
order to satisfy the demands of this auxiliary troop. But grinding
taxes and extortions alike failed; and the soldiery, their wages in
arrears, battened upon the country, the dregs of the Moorish popula-
tion joining them. The territory was delivered at last from their
robberies, rapes, and murders, by the appearance of the Almoravides.
This new Moslem sect had grown strong in Africa, attaining there
the political supremacy; and in their weakness the Moorish kings
of Spain implored its assistance in repelling the attacks of the
Christian North.
King Alfonso, alarmed at the appearance of these African hordes,
recalled Alvar Fañez, was defeated by the Almoravides at Zallaca
in 1086, and could think no more of garrisoning Valencia for Cadir.
The position of Cadir became thus critical, and he appealed for help
both to Alfonso and to Mostain of Saragossa. Mostain sent Rodrigo,
ostensibly to his assistance; but a secret agreement had been made,
Arabic historians assert, between the king and his general, whereby
Cadir was to be despoiled, the city fall to Mostain, the booty to
Rodrigo (1088).
The expedition was a successful one: Cadir's enemies were com-
pelled to withdraw, and Rodrigo established himself in Valencian
territory. As the recognized protector of the lawful king, in reality
the suzerain of Valencia, Rodrigo received a generous tribute; but
he had no intention of holding to his agreement with Mostain and
assisting the latter to win the city. It is clear on the contrary that
he had already resolved to secure, when opportunity offered, the
prize for himself. Meanwhile he skillfully held off, now by force,
now by ruse, all other competitors, Christian and Moslem alike;
including among these King Alfonso, whose territories he wasted
with fire and sword when that monarch attempted once, in Rodrigo's
absence, to win Valencia for himself.
At another time we find him intriguing simultaneously with four
different rivals for the control of the city,- Alfonso and Mostain
among the number,-deceiving all with fair words.
As head of an independent army, Rodrigo made now successful
forays in all directions; despoiling, levying tribute, garrisoning
strongholds, strengthening thus in every way his position. At last
the long awaited opportunity came. During his temporary absence,
Cadir was dethroned and put to death; and the leader of the insur-
gents, the Cadi Ibn Djahhof, named president of a republic.
Rodrigo returned, and appealing in turn to ruse and force, at last
sat down before the city to reduce it by famine. During the last
period of the siege, those who fled from the city to escape the
famine were thrown to dogs, or burned at slow fires. The city
capitulated on favorable terms, June 15th, 1094. But all the conditions


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THE CID
3729
of the capitulation were violated. The Cadi-President was buried in
a trench up to his arm-pits, surrounded with burning brands, and
slowly tortured to death, several of his kinsmen and friends sharing
his fate. Rodrigo was with difficulty restrained from throwing into
the flames the Cadi's children and the women of his harem. Yet
the lives and property of Ibn Djahhof and his family had been
expressly safeguarded in the capitulation. It is probable that Rod-
rigo's title of "the Cid" or "my Cid» (Arabic, Sid-y=my lord) was
given to him at this time by his Moorish subjects.
Master of Valencia, the Cid dreamed of conquering all that region
of Spain still held by the Moors. An Arab heard him say, « One
Rodrigo (the last king of the Goths) has lost this peninsula; another
Rodrigo will recover it. " Success crowned his arms for several
years. But in 1099 the troops he had sent against the Almoravides
were utterly routed, few escaping. The Cid, already enfeebled in
health, died, it is said of grief and shame (July, 1099). His widow
held the city for two years longer. Besieged at that time by the
Almoravides, she sought help of Alfonso. He came and forced the
enemy to raise the siege; but judging that it was not possible for
him to defend a city so remote from his dominions, counseled its
abandonment. As the Christians, escorting the body of the Cid,
marched out, Valencia was fired; and only ruins awaited the Almo-
ravides (1102).
The Cid's body was brought to San Pedro de Cardeña, a monas-
tery not far from Burgos; enthroned, it is said, beside the high altar
for ten years, and thereafter buried. Jimena survived her husband
until 1104.
Ibn Bassam, an Arabic contemporary, writing at Seville only ten
years after the death of the Cid, after describing his cruelty and
duplicity, adds:- "Nevertheless, that man, the scourge of his time,
was one of the miracles of the Lord in his love of glory, the prudent
firmness of his character, and his heroic courage. Victory always
followed the banner of Rodrigo (may God curse him! ); he triumphed
over the barbarians,
he put to flight their armies, and with
his little band of warriors slew their numerous soldiery. "
The Cid, a man not of princely birth, through the exercise of vir-
tues which his time esteemed,-courage and shrewdness,- had won
for himself from the Moors an independent principality. Legend will
have begun to color and transform his exploits already during his
lifetime. Some fifty years later he had become the favorite hero of
popular songs. It is probable that these songs (cantares) were at first
brief tales in rude metrical form; and that the epic poems, dating
from about 1200, used them as sources. The earliest poetic monu-
ment in Castilian literature which treats of the Cid is called 'The
VII-234


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THE CID
3730
Poem of My Cid. ' While based upon history, its material is largely
legendary. The date of its composition is doubtful,-probably about
1200. The poem-the beginning is lost-opens with the departure
of "My Cid" from Bivar, and describes his Moorish campaigns, cul-
minating with the conquest of Valencia. Two Leonese nobles, the
Infantes (Princes) of Carrion, beseech Alfonso to ask for them in
marriage the conqueror's daughters. The Cid assents-to his King
he would refuse nothing-and the marriages are celebrated in Va-
lencia with due pomp. But the princes are arrant cowards. To
escape the gibes of the Cid's companions, after securing rich wed-
ding portions they depart for Carrion. In the oak wood of Carpes
they pretend a desire to be left alone with their wives. Despoiling
them of their outer garments, with saddle-girth and spurred boot
they seek to revenge upon the Cid's daughters the dishonor to which
their own base conduct subjected them while at the Cid's court.
But time brings a requital. The Infantes, called to account, forfeit
property and honor, esteeming themselves fortunate to escape with
their lives from the judicial duels. Princes of Navarre and Aragon
present themselves as suitors, and in second marriages Doña Elvira
and Doña Sola become queens of Spain. The marriages with the
Infantes of Carrion are pure invention, intended perhaps to defame
the Leonese nobility, these nobles being princes of the blood royal.
The second marriages, if we substitute Barcelona for Aragon, are
historical. Of the Cid's two daughters, one married Prince Ramiro
of Navarre and the other Count Raynard Berenger III. of Barcelona.
In 1157 two of the Cid's great-grandchildren, Sancho VI. of Navarre
and his sister Doña Blanca, queen of Sancho III. of Castile, sat on
Spanish thrones. Through intermarriage the blood of the Cid has
passed into the Bourbon and Habsburg lines, and with Eleanor of
Castile into the English royal house.
The Poem of My Cid' is probably the earliest monument of
Spanish literature. It is also in our opinion the noblest expression
- so far as the characters are concerned; for the verse halts and
the description sometimes lags of the entire mediæval folk epic of
Europe. Homeric in its simplicity, its characters are drawn with
clearness, firmness, and concision, presenting a variety true to nature,
far different from the uniformity we find in the Song of Roland. '
The spirit which breathes in it is of a noble, well-rounded humanity,
a fearless and gentle courage, a manly and modest self-reliance; an
unswerving loyalty and simple trust toward country, king, kinsmen,
and friends; a child-faith in God, slightly tinged with superstition, for
"My Cid believes in auguries; and a chaste tender family affection,
where the wife is loved and honored as wife and as mother, and the
children's welfare fills the father's thoughts.
-


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THE CID
•
3731
The duplicity of the historical Cid has left indeed its traces.
When abandoning Castile he sends to two ewish money-lenders of
Burgos, chests filled, as he pretends, with fine gold, but in reality
with sand; borrows upon this security, and so far as we are informed,
never repays the loan.
The Princes of Carrion, his sons-in-law, are
duped into thinking that they will escape from the accounting with
the loss of Tizon and Colada, the swords which the Cid gave them.
But a certain measure of prudent shrewdness is not out of place in
dealing with men of the treacherous character of the Infantes. And
as to the Jewish money-lenders, to despoil them would scarce have
been regarded as an offense against the moral law in mediæval Spain.
The second poetic monument is variously named. Amadar de
los Rios, a historian of Spanish literature, styles it 'The Legend or
Chronicle of the Youth of Rodrigo. ' Its date also is disputed, some
authorities placing its composition earlier, others later than that of
the Poem. The weight of evidence seems to us in favor of the later
date. It is rude and of inferior merit, though not without vigorous
passages. It treats the earliest period of the Cid's life, and is (so far
as we know) purely legendary. The realm of Castile-Leon is at peace
under the rule of Ferdinand (the First), when the Count Don Gomez of
Gormaz makes an unprovoked descent upon the sheep-folds of Diego
Lainez. A challenge of battle follows. Rodrigo, only son of Diego,
a lad in his thirteenth year, insists upon being one of the hundred
combatants on the side of his family, and slays Don Gomez in single
combat. Jimena, the daughter of Gomez, implores justice of the
King; but when Ferdinand declares that there is danger of an insur-
rection if Rodrigo be punished, she proposes reconciliation through
marriage. Diego and his son are summoned to the court, where
Rodrigo's appearance and conduct terrify all. He denies vassalship,
and declares to King Ferdinand, "That my father kissed your hand
has foully dishonored me. "
Married to Jimena against his will (Jimena Diaz, not Jimena
Gomez, was his historical wife), he vows never to recognize her as
wife until he has won five battles with the Moors in open field.
Ferdinand plays a very unkingly rôle in this poem. While his fierce
vassal is absent the King is helpless; and Rodrigo draws near only
to assert anew his contempt for the royal authority by blunt refusals
of Ferdinand's requests. He is always ready, however, to take up
the gauntlet and defend the realm against every enemy, Christian or
Moor. But this rude courage is coupled with devout piety, and is
not insensible to pity. At the ford of the Duero a wretched leper is
encountered: all turn from him with loathing save Rodrigo, who
gives to him a brother's care. It is Saint Lazarus, who departing
blesses him.


## p. 3732 (#90) ############################################

THE CID
3732
At last a formidable coalition is formed against Spain. The
Emperor of Germany and the King of France, supported by the Pope
and Patriarch, require of Spain, in recognition of her feudal depend-
ence upon the Roman empire, a yearly tribute of fifteen noble
virgins, besides silver, horses, falcons, etc. Rodrigo appears when
Ferdinand is in despair, and kisses at last the royal hand in sign of
vassalship. Though the enemy gather "countless as the herbs of the
fields," even Persia and Armenia furnishing contingents, their battle
array is vain.
The five Kings of Spain cross the Pyrenees. Arrived before Paris,
Rodrigo passes through the midst of the French army, strikes with
his hand the gates of the city, and challenges the twelve French
peers to combat. The allies in alarm implore a truce. At the
council, Rodrigo, seated at the feet of his King and acting as
Ferdinand's spokesman, curses the Pope when the latter offers the
imperial crown of Spain. "We came for that which was to be
won," he declares, "not for that already won. " Against Rodrigo's
advice the truce is accorded to all. Here the poem is interrupted.
Besides these two epic poems, we have in the earlier Spanish
literature two chronicles in prose which describe the life of the Cid,
-'The General Chronicle of Alfonso the Learned' and 'The Chron-
icle of the Cid,' the latter being drawn from the former. Both rest
in part upon historical sources, in part upon legend and tradition.
Two centuries and more after the Poem, we meet with the
Romances or Ballads of the Cid. For the earliest of these do not
in their present form date far back of 1500. These ballads derive
from all sources, but chiefly from the Cid legend, which is here
treated in a lyric, sentimental, popular, and at times even vulgar
tone.
Guillem de Castro (1569-1631) chose two themes from the life of
the Cid for dramatic treatment, composing a dual drama styled 'Las
Mocedades del Cid' (The Youth of the Cid). The first part is the
more important. De Castro, drawing from the ballads, told again
the story of the insult to Don Diego (according to the ballads, a
blow in the face given by Don Gomez in a moment of passion), its
revenge, the pursuit of Rodrigo by Jimena, demanding justice of
King Ferdinand, and finally the reconciliation through marriage.
But De Castro added love, and the conflict in the mind of Rodrigo
and in that of Jimena between affection and the claims of honor.
Corneille recast De Castro's first drama in his 'Le Cid,' condens-
ing it and giving to the verse greater dignity and nobility. The
French dramatist has worked with entire independence here, and
both in what he has omitted and what he has added has usually
shown an unerring dramatic instinct. In certain instances, however,


## p. 3733 (#91) ############################################

THE CID
3733
through ignorance of the spirit and sources of the Spanish drama he
has erred. But the invention is wholly De Castro's, and many of
Corneille's most admired passages are either free translations from
the Spanish or expressions of some thought or sentiment contained
in De Castro's version.
In more recent times Herder has enriched German literature with
free renderings of some of the Cid ballads. Victor Hugo has drawn
from the Cid theme, in his 'La Legende des Siècles' (The Legend of
the Centuries), fresh inspiration for his muse.
Charles Afrape Voit.
FROM THE POEM OF MY CID)
LEAVING BURGOS
ITH tearful eyes he turned to gaze upon the wreck behind,
His rifled coffers, bursten gates, all open to the wind:
Nor mantle left, nor robe of fur; stript bare his castle hall;
Nor hawk nor falcon in the mew, the perches empty all.
Then forth in sorrow went my Cid, and a deep sigh sighed he;
Yet with a measured voice and calm, my Cid spake loftily,-
"I thank thee, God our Father, thou that dwellest upon high,
I suffer cruel wrong to-day, but of mine enemy! »
As they came riding from Bivar the crow was on the right;
By Burgos's gate, upon the left, the crow was there in sight.
My Cid he shrugged his shoulders and he lifted up his head:
"Good tidings, Alvar Fañez! we are banished men! " he said.
With sixty lances in his train my Cid rode up the town,
The burghers and their dames from all the windows looking down;
And there were tears in every eye, and on each lip one word:
་
"A worthy vassal
would to God he served a worthy Lord! »
WIT
-
FAREWELL TO HIS WIFE AT SAN PEDRO DE CARDENA
THE prayer was said, the mass was sung, they mounted to depart;
My Cid a moment stayed to press Jimena to his heart;
Jimena kissed his hand, -as one distraught with grief was she;
He looked upon his daughters: "These to God I leave," said he.
As when the finger-nail from out the flesh is torn away,
Even so sharp to him and them the parting pang that day.
Then to his saddle sprang my Cid, and forth his vassals led;
But ever as he rode, to those behind he turned his head.
. . .
+


## p. 3734 (#92) ############################################

3734
THE CID
BATTLE SCENE
THEN cried my Cid-"In charity, as to the rescue-ho! "
With bucklers braced before their breasts, with lances pointing low,
With stooping crests and heads bent down above the saddle-bow,
All firm of hand and high of heart they roll upon the foe.
And he that in a good hour was born, his clarion voice rings out,
And clear above the clang of arms is heard his battle shout:
"Among them, gentlemen! Strike home for the love of charity!
The champion of Bivar is here- Ruy Diaz-I am he! "
Then bearing where Bermuez still maintains unequal fight,
Three hundred lances down they come, their pennons flickering white;
Down go three hundred Moors to earth, a man to every blow;
And when they wheel, three hundred more, as charging back they go.
It was a sight to see the lances rise and fall that day;
The shivered shields and riven mail, to see how thick they lay;
The pennons that went in snow-white came out a gory red;
The horses running riderless, the riders lying dead;
While Moors call on Mohammed, and "St. James! " the Christians cry,
And sixty score of Moors and more in narrow compass lie.
THE CHALLENGES
[Scene from the challenges that preceded the judicial duels. Ferrando,
one of the Infantes, has just declared that they did right in spurning the
Cid's daughters. The Cid turns to his nephew. ]
"Now is the time, 'Dumb Peter'; speak, O man that sittest mute!
My daughters' and thy cousins' name and fame are in dispute:
To me they speak, to thee they look to answer every word.
If I am left to answer now, thou canst not draw thy sword. "
Tongue-tied Bermuez stood; a while he strove for words in vain,
But look you, when he once began he made his meaning plain.
"Cid, first I have a word for you: you always are the same,
In Cortes ever gibing me,-'Dumb Peter' is the name;
It never was a gift of mine, and that long since you knew;
But have you found me fail in aught that fell to me to do? —
You lie, Ferrando, lie in all you say upon that score.
The honor was to you, not him, the Cid Campeador;
For I know something of your worth, and somewhat I can tell.
That day beneath Valencia wall-you recollect it well —
You prayed the Cid to place you in the forefront of the fray;
You spied a Moor, and valiantly you went that Moor to slay;
And then you turned and fled — for his approach you would not stay.
Right soon he would have taught you 'twas a sorry game to play,
Had I not been in battle there to take your place that day.


## p. 3735 (#93) ############################################

THE CID
3735
I slew him at the first onfall; I gave his steed to you;
To no man have I told the tale from that hour hitherto.
Before my Cid and all his men you got yourself a name,
How you in single combat slew a Moor a deed of fame;
And all believed in your exploit; they wist not of your shame.
You are a craven at the core,- tall, handsome, as you stand:
How dare you talk as now you talk, you tongue without a hand? . . .
Now take thou my defiance as a traitor, trothless knight:
Upon this plea before our King Alfonso will I fight;
The daughters of my lord are wronged, their wrong is mine to right.
That ye those ladies did desert, the baser are ye then;
For what are they? -weak women; and what are ye? -strong men.
On every count I deem their cause to be the holier,
And I will make thee own it when we meet in battle here.
Traitor thou shalt confess thyself, so help me God on high,
And all that I have said to-day my sword shall verify. "
Thus far these two. Diego rose, and spoke as ye shall hear:
"Counts by our birth are we, of stain our lineage is clear.
In this alliance with my Cid there was no parity.
If we his daughters cast aside, no cause for shame we see.
And little need we care if they in mourning pass their lives,
Enduring the reproach that clings to scorned rejected wives.
In leaving them we but upheld our honor and our right,
And ready to the death am I, maintaining this, to fight. "
Here Martin Antolinez sprang upon his feet: "False hound!
Will you not silent keep that mouth where truth was never found?
For you to boast! the lion scare have you forgotten too?
How through the open door you rushed, across the court-yard flew;
How sprawling in your terror on the wine-press beam you lay?
Ay! never more, I trow, you wore the mantle of that day.
There is no choice; the issue now the sword alone can try:
The daughters of my Cid ye spurned; that must ye justify.
On every count I here declare their cause the cause of right,
And thou shalt own thy treachery the day we join in fight. "
He ceased, and striding up the hall Assur Gonzalez passed;
His cheek was flushed with wine, for he had stayed to break his fast;
Ungirt his robe, and trailing low his ermine mantle hung;
Rude was his bearing to the court, and reckless was his tongue.
"What a to-do is here, my lords! was the like ever seen?
What talk is this about my Cid him of Bivar I mean?
To Riodouirna let him go to take his millers' rent,
And keep his mills a-going there, as once he was content.
He, forsooth, mate his daughters with the Counts of Carrion! "
Upstarted Muño Gustioz: "False, foul-mouthed knave, have done!
-
-―


## p. 3736 (#94) ############################################

3736
THE CID
Thou glutton, wont to break thy fast without a thought or prayer;
Whose heart is plotting mischief when thy lips are speaking fair;
Whose plighted word to friend or lord hath ever proved a lie;
False always to thy fellow-man, falser to God on high,—
No share in thy good-will I seek; one only boon I pray,
The chance to make thee own thyself the villain that I say. ”
Then spoke the king: "Enough of words: ye have my leave to fight,
The challenged and the challengers; and God defend the right. "
CONCLUSION
AND from the field of honor went Don Roderick's champions three.
Thanks be to God, the Lord of all, that gave the victory!
But in the lands of Carrion it was a day of woe,
. .
may he
And on the lords of Carrion it fell a heavy blow.
He who a noble lady wrongs and casts aside-
Meet like requital for his deeds, or worse, if worse there be!
But let us leave them where they lie - their meed is all men's scorn.
Turn we to speak of him that in a happy hour was born.
Valencia the Great was glad, rejoiced at heart to see
The honored champions of her lord return in victory:
And Ruy Diaz grasped his beard: "Thanks be to God," said he,
"Of part or lot in Carrion now are my daughters free;
Now may I give them without shame, whoe'er their suitors be. "
And favored by the king himself, Alfonso of Leon,
Prosperous was the wooing of Navarre and Aragon.
The bridals of Elvira and of Sol in splendor passed;
Stately the former nuptials were, but statelier far the last.
And he that in a good hour was born, behold how he hath sped!
His daughters now to higher rank and greater honor wed:
Sought by Navarre and Aragon, for queens his daughters twain;
And monarchs of his blood to-day upon the thrones of Spain.
And so his honor in the land grows greater day by day.
Upon the feast of Pentecost from life he passed away.
For him and all of us the grace of Christ let us implore.
And here ye have the story of my Cid Campeador.
Translation of John Ormsby.
-


## p. 3737 (#95) ############################################

3737
EARL OF CLARENDON
(EDWARD HYDE)
(1609-1674)
HE statesman first known as Mr. Hyde of the Inner Temple,
then as Sir Edward Hyde, and finally as the Earl of Clar-
endon, belongs to the small but most valuable and eminent
band who have both made and written history; a group which
includes among others Cæsar, Procopius, Sully, and Baber, and on a
smaller scale of active importance, Ammianus and Finlay. Born in
Dinton, Wiltshire, 1609, he was graduated at Oxford in 1626, and had
attained a high standing in his profession when the civil troubles
began, and he determined to devote all
his energies to his public duties in Parlia-
ment. During the momentous period of
the Long Parliament he was strongly on
the side of the people until the old abuses
had been swept away; but he would not
go with them in paralyzing the royal au-
thority from distrust of Charles, and when
the civil war broke out he took the royal
side, accompanying the King to Oxford,
and remaining his ablest adviser and loyal
friend.

He was the guardian of Charles II. in
exile; and in 1661, after the Restoration,
was made Lord Chancellor and chief min-
ister. Lord Macaulay says of him:-"He was well fitted for his
great place. No man wrote abler state papers. No man spoke with
more weight and dignity in council and Parliament. No man was
better acquainted with general maxims of statecraft. No man
observed the varieties of character with a more discriminating eye.
It must be added that he had a strong sense of moral and religious
obligation, a sincere reverence for the laws of his country, and a
conscientious regard for the honor and interest of the Crown. " But
his faults were conspicuous. One of his critics insists that "his
temper was arbitrary and vehement. His arrogance was immeas-
urable. His gravity assumed the character of censoriousness. "
He took part in important and dangerous negotiations, and eventu-
ally alienated four parties at once: the royalists by his Bill of
EARL OF CLARENDON


## p. 3738 (#96) ############################################

3738
EARL OF CLARENDON
Indemnity; the low-churchmen and dissenters by his Uniformity act;
the many who suffered the legal fine for private assemblages for
religious worship; and the whole nation by selling Dunkirk to France.
By the court he was hated because he censured the extravagance and
looseness of the life led there; and finally Charles, who had long
resented his sermons, deprived him of the great seal, accused him
of high treason, and doomed him to perpetual banishment. Thus,
after being the confidential friend of two kings (and the future
grandfather of two sovereigns, Mary and Anne), he was driven out of
England, to die in poverty and neglect at Rouen in 1674. But these
last days were perhaps the happiest and most useful of his life.
He now indulged his master passion for literature, and revised his
'History of the Rebellion,' which he had begun while a fugitive from
the rebels in the Isle of Jersey. In this masterpiece, ་ one of the
greatest ornaments of the historical literature of England," he has
described not only the events in which he participated, but noted
people of the time whom he had personally known. The book is
written in a style of sober and stately dignity, with great acuteness
of insight and weightiness of comment; it incorporates part of an
autobiography afterwards published separately, and is rather out of
proportion. His other works are 'The Essay on an Active and Con-
templative Life'; 'The Life of Edward, Earl of Clarendon'; 'Dia-
logues on Education and the Want of Respect Paid to Age';
'Miscellaneous Essays,' and 'Contemplation of the Psalms of David. '
THE CHARACTER OF LORD FALKLAND
I'
F CELEBRATING the memory of eminent and extraordinary per-
sons, and transmitting their great virtues for the imitation.
of posterity, be one of the principal ends and duties of his-
tory, it will not be thought impertinent in this place to remem-
ber a loss which no time will suffer to be forgotten, and no
success or good fortune could repair. In this unhappy battle
was slain the Lord Viscount Falkland; a person of such prodigious
parts of learning and knowledge, of that inimitable sweetness.
and delight in conversation, of so flowing and obliging a human-
ity and goodness to mankind, and of that primitive simplicity
and integrity of life, that if there were no other brand upon this
odious and accursed civil war than that single loss, it must be
most infamous and execrable to all posterity.
Before this Parliament, his condition of life was so happy
that it was hardly capable of improvement. Before he came to


## p. 3739 (#97) ############################################

EARL OF CLARENDON
3739
twenty years of age he was master of a noble fortune, which
descended to him by the gift of a grandfather without passing
through his father or mother, who were then both alive, and not
well enough contented to find themselves passed by in the
descent. His education for some years had been in Ireland,
where his father was Lord Deputy; so that when he returned
into England to the possession of his fortune, he was unentan-
gled with any acquaintance or friends, which usually grow up
by the custom of conversation; and therefore was to make a
pure election of his company, which he chose by other rules
than were prescribed to the young nobility of that time. And
it cannot be denied, though he admitted some few to his friend-
ship for the agreeableness of their natures and their undoubted
affection to him, that his familiarity and friendship, for the
most part, was with men of the most eminent and sublime parts,
and of untouched reputation in the point of integrity; and such
men had a title to his bosom.
He was a great cherisher of wit and fancy and good parts in
any man; and if he found them clouded with poverty or want, a
most liberal and bountiful patron towards them, even above his
fortune; of which, in those administrations, he was such a dis-
penser as if he had been trusted with it to such uses; and if
there had been the least of vice in his expense he might have been
thought too prodigal. He was constant and pertinacious in
whatsoever he resolved to do, and not to be wearied by any
pains that were necessary to that end. And therefore having
once resolved not to see London, which he loved above all
places, till he had perfectly learned the Greek tongue, he went
to his own house in the country and pursued it with that inde-
fatigable industry that it will not be believed in how short a
time he was master of it, and accurately read all the Greek
historians.
In this time, his house being within ten miles of Oxford, he
contracted familiarity and friendship with the most polite and
accurate men of that university; who found such an immenseness
of wit and such a solidity of judgment in him, so infinite a
fancy bound in by a most logical ratiocination, such a vast
knowledge that he was not ignorant in anything, yet such an
excessive humility as if he had known nothing, that they fre-
quently resorted and dwelt with him, as in a college situated in
a purer air; so that his house was a university bound in a less


## p. 3740 (#98) ############################################

3740
EARL OF CLARENDON
volume, whither they came not so much for repose as study, and
to examine and refine those grosser propositions which laziness
and consent made current in vulgar conversation.
The great opinion he had of the uprightness and integrity of
those persons who appeared most active, especially of Mr. Hamp-
den, kept him longer from suspecting any design against the
peace of the kingdom; and though he differed commonly from
them in conclusions, he believed long their purposes were honest.
When he grew better informed what was law, and discerned (in
them) a desire to control that law by a vote of one or both
Houses, no man more opposed those attempts, and gave the
adverse party more trouble by reason and argumentation; inso-
much as he was, by degrees, looked upon as an advocate for the
court, to which he contributed so little that he declined those
addresses and even those invitations which he was obliged
almost by civility to entertain. And he was so jealous of the
least imagination that he should incline to preferment, that he
affected even a morosity to the court and to the courtiers, and
left nothing undone which might prevent and divert the King's
or Queen's favor towards him, but the deserving it. For when
the King sent for him once or twice to speak with him, and to
give him thanks for his excellent comportment in those councils
which his Majesty graciously termed doing him service, his
answers were more negligent and less satisfactory than might
have been expected; as if he cared only that his actions should
be just, not that they should be acceptable, and that his Majesty
should think that they proceeded only from the impulsion of
conscience, without any sympathy in his affections; which from a
stoical and sullen nature might not have been misinterpreted;
yet from a person of so perfect a habit of generous and obse-
quious compliance with all good men, might very well have been
interpreted by the King as more than an ordinary averseness to
his service: so that he took more pains and more forced his
nature to actions unagreeable and unpleasant to it, that he might
not be thought to incline to the court, than any man hath done
to procure an office there.
Two reasons prevailed with him to receive the seals, and but
for those he had resolutely avoided them. The first, consideration
that it [his refusal] might bring some blemish upon the King's
affairs, and that men would have believed that he had refused
so great an honor and trust because he must have been with it


## p. 3741 (#99) ############################################

EARL OF CLARENDON
3741
obliged to do somewhat else not justifiable. And this he made.
matter of conscience, since he knew the King made choice of him
before other men especially because he thought him more hon-
est than other men. The other was, lest he might be thought to
avoid it out of fear to do an ungracious thing to the House of
Commons, who were sorely troubled at the displacing of Harry
Vane, whom they looked upon as removed for having done them
those offices they stood in need of; and the disdain of so popu-
lar an incumbrance wrought upon him next to the other. For
as he had a full appetite of fame by just and generous actions,
so he had an equal contempt of it by any servile expedients;
and he had so much the more consented to and approved the
justice upon Sir Harry Vane in his own private judgment, by
how much he surpassed most men in the religious observation of
a trust, the violation whereof he would not admit of any excuse
for.
For these reasons he submitted to the King's command and
became his secretary, with as humble and devout an acknowl-
edgment of the greatness of the obligation as could be expressed,
and as true a sense of it in his own heart. Yet two things he
could never bring himself to whilst he continued in that office, that
was to his death; for which he was contented to be reproached,
as for omissions in a most necessary part of his office. The one,
employing of spies, or giving any countenance or entertainment
to them. I do not mean such emissaries as with danger would
venture to view the enemy's camp and bring intelligence of
their number and quartering, or such generals as such an obser-
vation can comprehend; but those who by communication of
guilt or dissimulation of manners wound themselves into such
trusts and secrets as enabled them to make discoveries for the ben-
efit of the State. The other, the liberty of opening letters upon.
a suspicion that they might contain matter of dangerous conse-
quence. For the first he would say, such instruments must be
void of all ingenuity and common honesty, before they could be
of use; and afterwards they could never be fit to be credited:
and that no single preservation could be worth so general a
wound and corruption of human society as the cherishing such
persons would carry with it.