by one into it with the minutest care, so that not one leaf should touch the wet, nor a flower be defiled; then he sat down to his papers, putting the glass as close to him as it could possibly stand; and then he bent down his head, and was soon poring over his conveyances and immersed in business, while the glass of flowers stood there, shedding a sort of unseen influence over his feelings, and perfuming, if I may be allowed the expression, every secret chamber of his head and heart."

What a touching little incident, full of poetry and breathing its very essence! In its brief compass comprising, perhaps, the whole history of a human life, with all its joys and sorrows, its chequered path of happiness and woe.

It is in these little touches, indeed, which produce so happy an effect in the elucidation of character, that the author particularly excels. Although he is eminently successful in every branch of descriptive writing, he certainly possesses peculiar skill in delineating the human mind, with all its intricate windings and mysterious operations; and both the characters which we have mentioned are striking instances of his talent and power. We wish we could follow him a little further in his description of the mental awakening which takes place in Danby; but so beautiful are many of the passages in which this curious process is painted, that we fear we should be tempted to make more extracts still, and thus to trespass too far upon the indulgence of our readers. The character of the heroine also is described with so many beauties both of style and thought, that we could have wished to trace out some portions of its progress in the language of the author; but the same reason will prevent us in this as in the former case, nor will we give our readers any farther insight into the plot of the story: where the whole is so good, it would be but tantalizing them to give them only a taste. We will therefore leave them to read it for themselves, confident that if we have raised any expectations by dwelling on the merits of the work, they will not be disappointed.

59

ART. IV.—Picturesque Antiquities of Spain. Described in a Series of Letters; with Illustrations representing Moorish Palaces, Cathedrals, and other Monuments of Art, contained in the Cities of Burgos, Valladolid, Toledo, and Seville. By N. A. Wells. London: Bentley, 1846.

If we never see a Spanish book, we at least have no deficiency of works illustrative of her days of ancient chivalry, of her Eastern edifices, of her semi-Muhammedan race. To expect any literary productions of value to arise from such a position of things as we see in Spain at the present moment, would be to hope against hope, would be to resemble the lover who trusts to the fair but false one who has repeatedly jilted him. We are now reconciled to see Spain, as Italy, only through her mediæval mirror. We had hoped for better things; but while the passion of the Spaniard for blood remains unslaked, even by the torrents he has shed; while the madness of the Malay or the Muhammedan is more than mated by even the high Castilian; while the meanest of motives and the basest of intrigues are perpetually in operation, who can look on the country of Bernardo del Carpio, of De Vega and Cervantes, with other feelings than regret mingled with disgust. The country that once held that splendid rule won for her by Columbus, Cortez, and Pizarro, now possesses of the vast continent which once lay under her rule not a rood. She cannot even seize on and hold that narrow strip that territorially belongs to her, and even puny Portugal can contest any question with still punier Spain. We often regret that Abd-elKader does not cross the sea and seize on it, were it only to rouse the lazy Christians from their slumber. Were he of our faith, no better destiny could await Spain than to fall under the sway of one who would raise her in the scale of nations, and bring back the high and palmy days of the Morescoes in the Hambra. He would oppose that barrier to France that English interest requires in Spain; and though the tint of barbarism that France has communicated to him by her murders of men in his country in cool blood, deepens over his once unspotted banner, as his foul recent massacres of prisoners prove, still would the native generosity of the Arab chief lead him, as a similar feeling does his Eastern brother in arms, Shamyl, to respect both the laws and courtesies of civilized warfare.

We shall now proceed to the consideration of the work before us. It is composed in a series of easily written letters, and exhibits no ordinary skill in the disinvoltura. It first promises to give a friend a conscientious and faithful report of matters in the Peninsula, and of this friend, one of the most fastidious and delicate of dames we presume, we have the following description:

"In fact, the incompatibility of your nature and that of the Spanish climate must ever be present to me, who, during the vivifying heats of the late very bearable canicule, in your French château-so constructed as to perform the functions of an atmospheric sieve, by separating the wind which rushed through its doors and windows, judiciously placed in parallels for the purpose, from the warmer sunshine without-was witness, nevertheless, to your unaffected distress, when you protested against any lofty oak-panelled room being sat or reclined in by more than one human being at a time, lest it should be over-heated; placing thus an obstacle in the way of conversation, in which to shine is your especial province, by rendering it necessary to converse through various open doors; while, were an additional testimony necessary to prove the sincerity of your sufferings, your favourite of favourites, Caliph, repulsed and uncaressed, hung his silken ears as he solemnly retreated to coil himself on a distant rug, and voted the dog-days a misnomer." (p. 5.)

Our traveller commences his route through the Basque provinces to Burgos, on the principal line by which Madrid is approached from the north of Europe. He notes with pleasure that the Basque provinces suffered slightly during the recent commotions, and is especially struck with Hernani. Burgos has received much illustration from our author's pencil, the Arco di Santa Maria, the Cathedral, its Choir, Transept, Sculpture in the Apse, Head of St. Francis, with a beautiful View of the Interior of the adjacent Church, near Burgos, of Miraflores, lend to this portion of the work no small character of interest. This cathedral, certainly one of the finest on the continent, is of the thirteenth century. In this vicinity were celebrated the nuptials of Ferdinand and Beatrice by the bishop of Burgos, who assisted Ferdinand to lay the first stone, and presided over the construction of the entire body of the building. His tomb is at the back of the choir. The cathedral contains numerous chapels. Andrea del Sarto has contributed to the embellishment of one, and Michael Angelo is reported to have painted a Virgin for another. The high altar is the work of Herrera. The sculptures round the apse, containing as subjects the principal events in our Saviour's life, are beautifully carved, easy in detail, and exquisite in taste. One of the ceremonies in the Chapel del Condestable we extract from its singularity. It is, we presume, derived from the practice of St. Francis, if we remember right, and some mystics

of the eastern world, of preaching to the beasts; a point which, as his head appears in this cathedral, is by no means improbable, though it does not appear to have struck our author.

"Before we leave the Chapel del Condestable, one of its ceremonies deserves particular mention. I allude to the Missa de los carneros (sheep mass). At early mass on All Souls' day, a feast celebrated in this chapel with extraordinary pomp, six sheep are introduced, and made to stand on a large block of unpolished marble, which has been left lying close to the tombs, almost in the centre of the chapel; near the six sheep are placed as many inflated skins of pigs, resembling those usually filled with the wine of the country; to these is added the quantity of bread, produced from four bushels of wheat, and all remain in view during the performance of high mass. At the conclusion of the final response, the sheep are removed from their pedestal and make for the chapel-gates, through which they issue; and urged by the voice of their driver, the peculiar shrill whistle of Spanish shepherds, and by the more material argument of the staff, proceed down the entire length of the cathedral to the music of the aforesaid whistle, accompanied by their own bleatings and bells, until they vanish through the great western portal." (p. 46.)

The saint visited Burgos at the time of the completion of the cathedral, which renders the above conjecture more probable; and we fully agree with our author on the great merit of the head of St. Francis, which he has given, and who, as our author remarks, unconsciously afforded the sculptor while he inspected the works of the cathedral, then in progress, the opportunity of a study of himself. Here, too, is deposited the well-known "Coffre del Cid," an oaken chest deposited by that warrior as security for an advance of money, which, when he repaid, on opening it, was found to contain nothing but stones and old iron. The lender of the money, however, trusting to the well-known chivalrous honour of Rodrigo, never opened it to ascertain its contents, but when the money was repaid was shown them. In this city is the tomb of the Campeador, inurned in walnut wood, with the Conception by Murillo in the altar over his head, repose the remains of the lover of Chimene, the warrior chief whose name, like our Richard's, stilled the cry of many a Moslem child. This urn stands on a pedestal, with letters of gold stating its precious contents. Has the might of her noblest chief utterly left his country? Can that base race that surrounds him look on the dust of the Cid, and not weep for their own degradation? The remains of the Cid have only, however, recently been conveyed to Burgos from the monastery of San Pedro de Cardenas, four miles distant. The following anecdote from Mariana gives the history of his name of Cid :

"An Arab expedition, headed by five kings (as he terms them) of the adjoining states, being signalized as having passed the mountains of Oca, and being occupied in committing depredations on the Christian territory, Rodrigo suddenly took the field, recovered all the booty, and made all the five kings prisoners; all this being done by himself and his own retainers. The kings he released after signing a treaty, according to which they agreed to pay him an annual tribute. It happened, that on the occasion of the first payment of this, Rodrigo was at Zamora, whither he had accompanied the king of Castile; and he took an opportunity of receiving the Arab messengers in presence of the court. This was at least uncommon. The messengers addressed him by the appellation of Syd (sir), as they handed over the money. Ferdinand, delighted with the prowess of his courtier, expressed on this occasion the desire that he should retain the title of Syd." (p. 55.)

The Mussulmans tell a different story. According to them, the expression "Syd" was employed, not by tributary kings, but by certain moslems, who paid the Cid for his protection against the Christians of Arragon. They malign the Cid sadly; but who would trust to these dogs of Mahound rather than to the canonized chroniclers of the Campeador? The house once tenanted by the Cid exhibits now, to the shame of Spain, his dilapidated monument. Does not one read in its sinking pillars the tale of the fall of Spain, which cannot cherish, as Italy at least does, her past glory, and from which we gather hope yet for Italy, even from that very ideal of past glory? Our readers will be much pleased if they glance over the portion of the work that gives an account of the independence of Castile, and the gallant conduct of Doña Sancha. Certainly the days are gone in which a horse and hawk would secure a principality; and the definite grant of Castile to the count arose from no other circumstance, except possibly that the king could not help himself, and was permitted gracefully to yield to the law of necessity, as administered by the powerful Count of Castile.

The confiscated Chartreuse of Miraflores, in the vicinity of Burgos, if it be not one of the principal royal mausoleums, has at least one monument well worthy of a visit. We allude to the tomb of Juan II. and Isabella. This is in alabaster, the work of Gil de Siloë, and in the form of a star. It is six feet high, being a recumbent monument. We give its description in our author's words:

"It is impossible to conceive a work more elaborate than the details of the costumes of the king and queen. The imitation of lace and embroidery, the exquisite delicacy of the hands and features, the infinitely minute carving of the pillows, the architectural