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Page 37
In the present day, when popular literature is running into the low
levels of life and luxuriating on the vices and follies of mankind, and
when the universal pursuit of gain is trampling down the early growth
of poetic feeling and wearing out the verdure of the soul, I question
whether it would not be of service for the reader occasionally to turn
to these records of prouder times and loftier modes of thinking, and to
steep himself to the very lips in old Spanish romance.
For my own part, I have a shelf or two of venerable, parchment-bound
tomes, picked up here and there about the peninsula, and filled with
chronicles, plays, and ballads, about Moors and Christians, which I keep
by me as mental tonics, in the same way that a provident housewife has
her cupboard of cordials. Whenever I find my mind brought below par by
the commonplace of every-day life, or jarred by the sordid collisions
of the world, or put out of tune by the shrewd selfishness of modern
utilitarianism, I resort to these venerable tomes, as did the worthy
hero of La Mancha to his books of chivalry, and refresh and tone up my
spirit by a deep draught of their contents. They have some such effect
upon me as Falstaff ascribes to a good Sherris sack, "warming the blood
and filling the brain with fiery and delectable shapes."
I here subjoin, Mr. Editor, a small specimen of the cordials I have
mentioned, just drawn from my Spanish cupboard, which I recommend to
your palate. If you find it to your taste, you may pass it on to your
readers.
Your correspondent and well-wisher,
GEOFFREY CRAYON.
* * * * *
LEGEND OF DON MUNIO SANCHO DE HINOJOSA.
BY THE AUTHOR OF THE SKETCH-BOOK.
In the cloisters of the ancient Benedictine convent of San Domingo, at
Silos, in Castile, are the mouldering yet magnificent monuments of the
once powerful and chivalrous family of Hinojosa. Among these, reclines
the marble figure of a knight, in complete armor, with the hands pressed
together, as if in prayer. On one side of his tomb is sculptured in
relief a band of Christian cavaliers, capturing a cavalcade of male and
female Moors; on the other side, the same cavaliers are represented
kneeling before an altar. The tomb, like most of the neighboring
monuments, is almost in ruins, and the sculpture is nearly
unintelligible, excepting to the keen eye of the antiquary. The story
connected with the sepulchre, however, is still preserved in the old
Spanish chronicles, and is to the following purport.
* * * * *
In old times, several hundred years ago, there was a noble Castilian
cavalier, named Don Munio Sancho de Hinojosa, lord of a border castle,
which had stood the brunt of many a Moorish foray. He had seventy
horsemen as his household troops, all of the ancient Castilian proof;
stark warriors, hard riders, and men of iron; with these he scoured the
Moorish lands, and made his name terrible throughout the borders. His
castle hall was covered with banners, and scimitars, and Moslem helms,
the trophies of his prowess. Don Munio was, moreover, a keen huntsman;
and rejoiced in hounds of all kinds, steeds for the chase, and hawks for
the towering sport of falconry. When not engaged in warfare, his delight
was to beat up the neighboring forests; and scarcely ever did he ride
forth, without hound and horn, a boar-spear in his hand, or a hawk upon
his fist, and an attendant train of huntsmen.
His wife, Donna Maria Palacin, was of a gentle and timid nature, little
fitted to be the spouse of so hardy and adventurous a knight; and many
a tear did the poor lady shed, when he sallied forth upon his daring
enterprises, and many a prayer did she offer up for his safety.
As this doughty cavalier was one day hunting, he stationed himself in a
thicket, on the borders of a green glade of the forest, and dispersed
his followers to rouse the game, and drive it toward his stand. He had
not been here long, when a cavalcade of Moors, of both sexes, came
prankling over the forest lawn. They were unarmed, and magnificently
dressed in robes of tissue and embroidery, rich shawls of India,
bracelets and anklets of gold, and jewels that sparkled in the sun.
At the head of this gay cavalcade, rode a youthful cavalier, superior
to the rest in dignity and loftiness of demeanor, and in splendor of
attire; beside him was a damsel, whose veil, blown aside by the breeze,
displayed a face of surpassing beauty, and eyes cast down in maiden
modesty, yet beaming with tenderness and joy.
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