"And one hundred millions for the patience with which I have listened to the King, who demands an account from the man who has presented him with a kingdom"!
This singular balance-sheet sufficiently shows the temper of the grandees of Spain even in the days of the New Monarchy. Cordova has reason to be proud of her eponymous hero. She has not been very fruitful in great men. She has produced no painters of eminence, unless Pablo de Cespedes may be classed among such; but Mme. Dieulafoy reminds us that to Juan de Mena, a native of the place and a courtier of Juan II., Spanish poetry is deeply indebted:
"His great work, 'The Labyrinth,' may in a measure be compared with that part of the 'Divina Commedia' where the Florentine places himself under the protection of Beatrice. Accompanied by a beautiful young woman personifying Providence, the poet witnesses the apparition of the worthies of History and Legend, and amuses himself in sketching their portraits. At times the style becomes heavy and pedantic, at others the touches of the pencil have a vigour and simplicity altogether Dantesque. Before Juan de Mena, the Castilian muse had never taken so daring a flight; and in spite of the defects of the general scheme, the untasteful phraseology, and the measure, 'The Labyrinth' abounds in conceptions and episodes where energy blended with beauty reveals a genius of the first order."
From poetry to leather the transition may seem abrupt, but it is to be feared that our city has derived more renown from the latter than the former. The stamped and gilded leather of Cordova was highly esteemed all over the civilized world from the fifteenth century to the eighteenth. Whether the industry was introduced by the Moors it is idle to inquire; long after their departure it formed the principal business and source of revenue of the Spaniards of the city. A powerful guild laid down strict rules as to apprenticeship, and regulated the quality and quantity of the manufacture. Terrible penalties were enforced against the tanner who made use of the hides of animals that had died of disease. The kings of Spain considered trunks or other objects bound in Cordova leather gifts very suitable for their fellow-princes. The Catholic kings, absurdly enough, forbade its exportation to the New World, not wishing to deprive the mother-country of goods of such price. With protection on this scale, we are not surprised to learn that the industry began to decline. Cordova was at length surpassed in its own line by Venice and other cities. The rich specimens of its work which adorned the mansions of its old noblesse were sold and dispersed all over the world, upon the general impoverishment of the kingdom in the eighteenth century. Then came the sack of the city, a hundred years ago, by the army of Dupont. Time has spared the famous race of Cordovan horses, and many a poor hidalgo rides into the town on a steed which if sold in London might redeem his shattered fortunes.
I have said a great deal about Cordova and its titles to remembrance; but it must be confessed that there is little enough to see in it. The churches present no features of interest, except the Colegiata de San Hipolito, modernized in 1729, which contains the tombs of Ferdinand IV. and Alfonso XI. Nor is walking through the city an exercise altogether pleasing, as the streets which were the first paved in Europe, in 850, might also claim to be the worst paved in the world. The stones are so sharp and pointed that in parts you have to skip from one to the other, like a bear dancing on hot iron—an original but ungraceful method of locomotion. A drive in the surrounding country is productive of more pleasure. The neighbourhood is a Paradise of fertility, and sets one wondering what becomes of all the money that this must bring in and represent. Spain and Greece are very poor countries, but I do not think that Spaniards and Greeks are, for the most part, very poor.
