Don Rodrigo Diaz de Bivar, otherwise the Cid, was a gentleman of very warlike tendencies, and spent most of his time in giving vent to the martial ardour within him. He has consequently been regarded by his countrymen of all times as their national hero, and wrapped in a bright haze of fabulous glory and fame. He, however, accomplished a good deal of the work attributed to him, and chased, harassed, conquered, and imprisoned the Moors throughout Spain to a most satisfactory extent. His love for the beautiful and heroic Ximena exemplifies the adage that none but the brave deserve the fair, and shows his prowess in the bowers of Venus as well as in the field of Mars. Shortly after his death a grand poetical glorification of his exploits was offered to his manes in the "Chronicle of the Cid;" and another, a very long time after, by the immortal Corneille in his masterpiece of "Le Cid." Upon the occasion of a great victory, some Moorish notables came to the hero and prostrated themselves at his feet, saluting him with the title of Seid Campeador, or Champion Prince—whence the appellation Cid.
Valencia was the last Moorish stronghold which fell to his arms; and there, after hanging up his spurs and horse-bit upon the Cathedral wall, where they remain to this day, he died in the year 1099. Any inquiring traveller may now satisfy the combined bent of a historical and anatomical mind by inspecting within a wooden urn in the Town Hall of Burgos, the bones of the immortal Don Rodrigo and his lovely Ximena.
Only to see the Cathedral of Burgos would amply serve as a grateful end to a pilgrimage from the uttermost parts of the earth. Coming suddenly from round the angle of some narrow street, there bursts upon the eye that glorious Gothic pile, with all its airy pinnacles. In the interior how rich is this majestic temple with that unequalled pomp so significant of the Roman Catholic faith, while the solemn walls are fretted with chaste ornaments of the rarest beauty, and with groups of slender, graceful pillarets which rise arrow-like to the lofty roof. When one views it, as Scott recommends us to view Melrose, in the pale moonlight, how profound is the impression produced by the weird-like appearance of the immense building, the design of which is so noble, so perfect! The awed pilgrim from other lands, when his eyes first rest on this unequalled shrine, stands enchanted, as if rooted to the spot, his soul leaping within him, transported with the beauty of so rare a spectacle.
As the great carved door swings back behind us, and shuts out from the senses the glare of the Spanish day, the head is instinctively bowed, and the knee bends in worship; for everything in this consecrated temple of the Divinity is calculated to excite the spirit of adoration, and to raise our faith heavenward. When we stand silent on the threshold of that holy place, beneath the lofty arches of the vaulted roof, supported by rows of colossal columns melting away into the distance; when we slowly pace the long aisles, with the tombs of the mighty dead on each side; or when we kneel with the devout worshippers before the altars in the various chapels, gemmed by hundreds of star-like lamps, the soul feels the reality of things unseen; while with the deep diapason of the organ, blended with the holy song of bands of choristers, its aspirations mount like clouds of incense to heaven. Never shall I forget the profound impression which I experienced when, in that noble fane, I felt that religious faith was at once the grandest and the most genuine growth of the human soul.
The staircase, which descends in graceful curvings from the altar to the marble floor beneath, with great griffin heads terminating the balustrades, is very beautiful, and was much admired by our own David Roberts. How magnificent, too, is the choir, with its two hundred stalls, adorned with spires, which are ornamented with the richest and most minute carving! The dark walnut-wood is all chased, chiselled, and traced from pinnacle to floor with one mass of amazing ornamentation, amidst the intricacies of which the sight loses itself, and becomes dim. The choir is entirely surrounded by tall brass railings of exquisite workmanship; and in the fifteen chapels, each enclosing objects of marvellous interest or beauty, the altars are supported by jasper pillars and columns of rarest marbles, while the retablo rises to the roof—a perfect labyrinth of gilt wood-carving, crowded with subjects of wondrous device. On a shelf in a sacristy is mouldering away into chips a great wooden chest which belonged to the Cid, for the indulgence of looking at which not very remarkable article of this hero's outfit a priest did not charge us more than a shilling a head.
FOOTNOTES:
[3] In the course of sixteen years, Torquemada, first Inquisitor-General of Spain, committed to the flames eight thousand eight hundred victims.
[4] About twopence halfpenny. The real is the basis of the whole monetary system of Spain.
