And view the hostile flames above its towers
Spire, with a bitter and severe delight.
Restoring in thy native line, O Prince,
The sceptre to the Spaniard.—[VII. p. 71.]
This was a favourite opinion of Garibays, himself a Biscayan, but he has little better proof for it than the fact, that Gothic names disappeared with Roderick, and that Pelayo and his successors drew their nomenclature from a different stock. He says, indeed, that ancient writings are not wanting to support his opinion. Some rude commentator has written against this assertion in the margin of my copy, miente Garibay; and I am afraid the commentator is the truer man of the two.
There is a fabulous tale of Pelayo’s birth, which, like many other tales of no better authority, has legends and relics to support it. The story, according to Dr. D. Christoval Lozano, in his history of Los Reyes Nuevos de Toledo, is this. Luz, niece to Egilona, and sister of Roderick, dwelt at Toledo, in the palace of King Egica. Duke Favila, her father’s brother, fell in love with her, and came from his residence in Cantabria to ask her in marriage, expecting to find no other obstacle than the dispensable one of consanguinity. But it so happened, that the King was wooing Luz to become his concubine; her refusal made him jealous, as he could not conceive that it proceeded from any cause except love for another, and as his temper and power were not to be provoked without danger, Favila dared not openly make his suit. He and his mistress therefore met in private, and plighted their vows before an image of the Virgin. The consequences soon became apparent,—the more so, because, as Dr Lozano assures us, there were at that time no fashions to conceal such things,—Y mas que en aquella era no se avian inventado los guarda-infantes. The king observed the alteration in her shape, and placed spies upon her, meaning to destroy the child and punish the mother with the rigour of the law, death by fire being the punishment for such an offence. Luz was well aware of the danger. She trusted her Camarera and one servant: They made an ark: She herself, as soon as the infant was born, threw water in his face, and baptised him by the name of Pelayo: a writing was placed with him in the ark, requesting that whoever should find it would breed up the boy with care, for he was of good lineage. Money enough was added to support him for eight years, and the ark was then launched upon the Tagus, where it floated down the stream all night, all day, and all the following night. On the second morning it grounded near Alcantara, and was found by Grafeses, who happened to be Luz’s uncle. The king’s suspicion being confirmed by the sudden alteration in the lady’s appearance, he used every means to detect her, but without avail; he even ordered all children to be examined who had been born in or around Toledo within three months, and full enquiry to be made into the circumstances of their births: To the astonishment of later historians, 35,000 of that age were found, and not one among them of suspicious extraction. The tale proceeds in the ordinary form of romance. The lady is accused of incontinence, and to be burnt, unless a champion defeats her accuser. Favila of course undertakes her defence, and of course is victorious. A second battle follows with the same success, and fresh combats would have followed, if a hermit had not brought the king to repentance. Grafeses in due time discovers the secret, and restores the child to his parents.
This fabulous chronicle seems to be the oldest written source of this story, but some such tradition had probably long been current. The ark was shown at Alcantara, in the convent of St. Benito, and a description of it, with reasons why its authenticity should be admitted, may be found in Francisco de Pisa’s Description de Toledo, l. iii. c. i.