Second Class. — Chronicles. — Origin. — Royal Chronicles. — General Chronicle by Alfonso the Tenth. — Its Divisions and Subjects. — Its more Poetical Portions. — Its Character. — Chronicle of the Cid. — Its Origin, Subject, and Character.
Chronicles.—Ballad poetry constituted, no doubt, originally, the amusement and solace of the whole mass of the Spanish people; for, during a long period of their early history, there was little division of the nation into strongly marked classes, little distinction in manners, little variety or progress in refinement. The wars going on with unappeased violence from century to century, though by their character not without an elevating and poetical influence upon all, yet oppressed and crushed all by the sufferings that followed in their train, and kept the tone and condition of the body of the Spanish nation more nearly at the same level than the national character was probably ever kept, for so long a period, in any other Christian country. But as the great Moorish contest was transferred to the South, Leon, Castile, and indeed the whole North, became comparatively quiet and settled. Wealth began to be accumulated in the monasteries, and leisure followed. The castles, instead of being constantly in a state of anxious preparation against the common enemy, were converted into abodes of a crude, but free, hospitality; and those distinctions of society that come from different degrees of power, wealth, and cultivation grew more and more apparent. From this time, then, the ballads, though not really neglected, began to subside into the lower portions of society, where for so long a period they remained; while the more advanced and educated sought, or created for themselves, forms of literature better suited, in some respects, to their altered condition, and marking at once more leisure and knowledge, and a more settled system of social life.
The oldest of these forms was that of the Spanish prose chronicles, which, besides being called for by the changed condition of things, were the proper successors of the monkish Latin chronicles and legends, long before known in the country, and were of a nature to win favor with men who themselves were every day engaged in achievements such as these very stories celebrated, and who consequently looked on the whole class of works to which they belonged as the pledge and promise of their own future fame. The chronicles were, therefore, not only the natural offspring of the times, but were fostered and favored by the men who controlled the times.[228]
I. General Chronicles and Royal Chronicles.—Under such circumstances, we might well anticipate that the proper style of the Spanish chronicle would first appear at the court, or in the neighbourhood of the throne; because at court were to be found the spirit and the materials most likely to give it birth. But it is still to be considered remarkable, that the first of the chronicles in the order of time, and the first in merit, comes directly from a royal hand. It is called in the printed copies “The Chronicle of Spain,” or “The General Chronicle of Spain,” and is, no doubt, the same work earlier cited in manuscript as “The History of Spain.”[229] In its characteristic Prologue, after solemnly giving the reasons why such a work ought to be compiled, we are told: “And therefore we, Don Alfonso, ... son of the very noble King Don Fernando, and of the Queen Doña Beatrice, have ordered to be collected as many books as we could have of histories that relate any thing of the deeds done aforetime in Spain, and have taken the chronicle of the Archbishop Don Rodrigo, ... and of Master Lucas, Bishop of Tuy, ... and composed this book”; words which give us the declaration of Alfonso the Wise, that he himself composed this Chronicle,[230] and which thus carry it back certainly to a period before the year 1284, in which he died. From internal evidence, however, it is probable that it was written in the early part of his reign, which began in 1252; and that he was assisted in its composition by persons familiar with Arabic literature and with whatever there was of other refinement in the age.[231]
It is divided, perhaps not by its author, into four parts: the first opening with the creation of the world, and giving a large space to Roman history, but hastening over every thing else till it comes to the occupation of Spain by the Visigoths; the second comprehending the Gothic empire of the country and its conquest by the Moors; the third coming down to the reign of Ferdinand the Great, early in the eleventh century; and the fourth closing in 1252, with the death of Saint Ferdinand, the conqueror of Andalusia and father of Alfonso himself.
Its earliest portions are the least interesting. They contain such notions and accounts of antiquity, and especially of the Roman empire, as were current among the common writers of the Middle Ages, though occasionally, as in the case of Dido,—whose memory has always been defended by the more popular chroniclers and poets of Spain against the imputations of Virgil,[232]—we have a glimpse of feelings and opinions which may be considered more national. Such passages naturally become more frequent in the Second Part, which relates to the empire of the Visigoths in Spain; though here, as the ecclesiastical writers are almost the only authority that could be resorted to, their peculiar tone prevails too much. But the Third Part is quite free and genial in its spirit, and truly Spanish; setting forth the rich old traditions of the country about the first outbreak of Pelayo from the mountains;[233] the stories of Bernardo del Carpio,[234] Fernan Gonzalez,[235] and the Seven Children of Lara;[236] with spirited sketches of Charlemagne,[237] and accounts of miracles like those of the cross made by angels for Alfonso the Chaste,[238] and of Santiago fighting against the infidels in the glorious battles of Clavijo and Hazinas.[239]
The last part, though less carefully compiled and elaborated, is in the same general tone. It opens with the well-known history of the Cid,[240] to whom, as to the great hero of the popular admiration, a disproportionate space is assigned. After this, being already within a hundred and fifty years of the writer’s own time, we, of course, approach the confines of more sober history, and finally, in the reign of his father, Saint Ferdinand, fairly settle upon its sure and solid foundations.
The striking characteristic of this remarkable Chronicle is, that, especially in its Third Part, and in a portion of the Fourth, it is a translation, if we may so speak, of the old poetical fables and traditions of the country into a simple, but picturesque, prose, intended to be sober history. What were the sources of those purely national passages, which we should be most curious to trace back and authenticate, we can never know. Sometimes, as in the case of Bernardo del Carpio and Charlemagne, the ballads and gestes of the olden time[241] are distinctly appealed to. Sometimes, as in the case of the Children of Lara, an early Latin chronicle, or perhaps some poetical legend, of which all trace is now lost, may have constituted the foundations of the narrative.[242] And once at least, if not oftener, an entire and separate history, that of the Cid, is inserted without being well fitted into its place. Throughout all these portions, the poetical character predominates much oftener than it does in the rest; for while, in the earlier parts, what had been rescued of ancient history is given with a grave sort of exactness, that renders it dry and uninteresting, we have in the concluding portion a simple narrative, where, as in the account of the death of Saint Ferdinand, we feel persuaded that we read touching details sketched by a faithful and affectionate eyewitness.
Among the more poetical passages are two at the end of the Second Part, which are introduced, as contrasts to each other, with a degree of art and skill rare in these simple-hearted old chronicles. They relate to what was long called “the Ruin of Spain,”[243] or its conquest by the Moors, and consist of two picturesque presentments of its condition before and after that event, which the Spaniards long seemed to regard as dividing the history of the world into its two great constituent portions. In the first of these passages, entitled “Of the Good Things of Spain,”[244] after a few general remarks, the fervent old chronicler goes on: “For this Spain, whereof we have spoken, is like the very Paradise of God; for it is watered by five noble rivers, which are the Duero, and the Ebro, and the Tagus, and the Guadalquivir, and the Guadiana; and each of these hath, between itself and the others, lofty mountains and sierras;[245] and their valleys and plains are great and broad, and, through the richness of the soil and the watering of the rivers, they bear many fruits and are full of abundance. And Spain, above all other things, is skilled in war, feared and very bold in battle; light of heart, loyal to her lord, diligent in learning, courtly in speech, accomplished in all good things. Nor is there land in the world that may be accounted like her in abundance, nor may any equal her in strength, and few there be in the world so great. And above all doth Spain abound in magnificence, and more than all is she famous for her loyalty. O Spain! there is no man can tell of all thy worthiness!”
But now reverse the medal, and look on the other picture, entitled “The Mourning of Spain,” when, as the Chronicle tells us, after the victory of the Moors, “all the land remained empty of people, bathed in tears, a byword, nourishing strangers, deceived of her own people, widowed and deserted of her sons, confounded among barbarians, worn out with weeping and wounds, decayed in strength, weakened, uncomforted, abandoned of all her own.... Forgotten are her songs, and her very language is become foreign and her words strange.”