The three favourites of mediæval Spanish romance, says the Señor Lafuente,[cc] Bernardo del Carpio, Fernan Gonzalez, and the Cid, have this at least in common, that they were all at war with their lawful sovereigns, and fought their battles independently of the crown. Hence their popularity in Spain. The Castilians of the Middle Ages were so devoted to their independence, so proud of their fueros, such admirers of personal prowess, that they were disposed to welcome with national admiration those heroes who sprang from the people, who defied and were ill-treated by their kings.
The Cid is the only knight-errant that has survived the polished satire of Cervantes. For his fame was neither literary nor aristocratic; but like the early Spanish proverbs, in which it is said he took so great a delight, it was embedded deep in the hearts of the people. And although the memory of his religious indifference may not have added to his popularity in the sixteenth century in Spain, it is a part of his character which must be taken into account in gauging the public opinion of earlier days. From the close of the eighth century to the close of the fifteenth, the Spanish people, Castilians and Aragonese, were if anything less bigoted than the rest of Europe. The influence of their neighbours the Moors, and of their Arab toleration could not be without its effect upon a people naturally free, independent, and self-reliant; and the Cid, who was certainly troubled with no religious scruples in the course of his varied career, and who, according to a popular legend affronted and threatened the pope on his throne in St. Peter’s, on account of some fancied slight, could never have been the hero of a nation of bigots.
To judge the Cid, even as we now know him, according to any code of modern ethics, is supremely unreasonable. To be sure that, even now, we know him as he was is supremely presumptuous. But that Ruy Diaz was a great man, and a great leader of men, a knight who would have shocked modern poets, and a free lance who would have laughed at modern heroes, we can have no manner of doubt. That he satisfied his contemporaries and himself; that he slew Moors and Christians as occasion required, with equal vigour and absolute impartiality; that he bearded the king of Leon in his Christian council, and that he cozened the king of Saragossa at the head of his Moslem army; that he rode the best horse and brandished the best blade in Spain; that his armies never wanted for valiant soldiers, nor his coffers for goldpieces; that he lived “my lord the challenger,” the terror of every foe, and that he died rich and respected in the noble city that had fallen to his knightly spear—of all this at least we are certain; and, if the tale is displeasing to our nineteenth century refinement, we must be content to believe that it satisfied the aspirations of mediæval Spain.[g]
THE HISTORICAL CID
[ca. 1050-1065 A.D.]
The real existence of the Cid and the most important events in his life have been proved by a sufficient, although not by a large number of documents, which, being amplified by Middle Age chroniclers, have formed the basis of later tradition. It is more or less in this traditionary form that the Cid appears, in Spanish history.
Mariana[i] related the chief events of his life as popular tradition has collected them from history and fable, and contented himself with adding, “Some persons hold a large part of this account to be fabulous; I also relate many more statements than I believe, because I do not dare to pass over in silence what others assert, nor would I like to assert as certain that which I doubt for reasons which compel me to do so and which others have stated.”
Prudencio de Sandoval[u] questioned many single items and declared whole episodes to be unhistorical. He was followed by Ferreras.[v] When finally, in 1792, the Augustine Manuel Risco,[w] supported by the Gesta Roderici Campidocti which he had discovered, tried to rescue some part of the old traditions, the Jesuit, Juan Francisco de Masdeu, doubted not only the genuineness of this document but the very existence of the Cid. The English historian Dunham[h] was even more firmly sceptical. Robert Southey,[x] who published an English translation of the Chronicle of the Cid, tried hard to steer between history and story and rescue as much as possible of the latter.
Victor Aimé Huber[y] has the credit of being the first to distinguish between the historical and mythical elements with great critical ability. The material used by Huber was not materially enriched until the Dutch orientalist R. Dozy[z] discovered in the library at Gotha, in 1844, an Arabic account of the Cid and his most celebrated deed of arms, the conquest of Valencia. This was found in the third volume of a history of literature (Zakira) written by the Moorish author Ibn Bassam,[aa] in the year 503 of the Hegira, according to his statement (1109 A.D.), that is, only ten years after the death of the Cid. It is thus the oldest, the only really contemporary account of the celebrated Spanish hero that we possess, and is of great historical value even though written by an enemy. The Dutch scholar was not satisfied merely to publish the text with a French translation, but also enumerated the known sources in order to distinguish between the historical and the more or less legendary traits of the same and to get as historically accurate a picture as possible of the Cid. At the same time he put entirely too much confidence in the Arabic account, placing himself in fact on the side of the Moors. Hence in order to get a correct idea of the Cid’s character one should not follow Dozy blindly, but should rather consider as to how far the Arab historian deserves credence on his own account.
