of the same appellations, has been carefully avoided; and that the writer, although having to deal with the usual number of Doña Marias and Don Juans, has kept them wonderfully distinct.

Never, perhaps, were an author and his task better suited to each other. M. Mérimée's style is sober in the extreme; and had he treated a subject less picturesque in itself and less full of stirring incident, might have verged upon dryness; while, on the other hand, the reign of Pedro the Cruel (a long tissue of romance and crime) under the pen of a more florid writer could scarcely have appeared like history. In all M. Mérimée's writings there is a truthfulness and sharpness of outline which inspire confidence. Even in his works of fiction the talent of realising is his chief characteristic. It never occurs to the reader to doubt the truth of his most marvellous narratives: indeed we scarcely think any one could be found sceptical enough to question one of his ghost-stories. Since, however, notwithstanding the old encouraging adage,―virtue is not always rewarded nor talent recompensed, it so happens that the possession of this singular gift has not been as favourable to our author as might have been expected. Nor have his creative powers been sufficiently appreciated. Although in his various works of imagination, especially in the little volume of tales published under the title of Mosaïque, there is as much invention as might easily have been drawn out into a dozen novels of three volumes each, M. Mérimée has scarcely taken his proper place among the imaginative writers of France. Little merit is allowed where so little effort is apparent. Some historical fragments published at different periods had shown that he possessed the varied erudition and lucid style, so attractive in an historian; and we are of opinion that he has done well to apply his talents in this direction. The very conciseness, which repels the sympathy of the novelreader, wins on the esteem of the historical student. The same slender drapery of style and absence of ornament which sometimes imparted to the creatures of his imagination an appearance of nakedness, allow the majestic forms of history to be traced in all their severe and instructive originality. Besides, in his acquaintance with the languages and even some of the dialects of the Peninsula, and from his knowledge of palæography, M. Mérimée has approved himself peculiarly qualified for his present subject. The subject is perhaps one of the most dramatic that the Middle Ages can furnish. Its turns of fortune are more strange and sudden than those of any novel: while the views of contemporary manners which it is perpetually reproducing, are pictures as striking as any in all history, of the extraordinary varieties under which society can exist. Those who remember the few

1850.

Spain in the Fourteenth Century.

139

chapters that Froissart has devoted to the reign of Don Pedro (or, as he calls him, Dam Piètre), will allow that they are among the most living pages of his admirable chronicles. To the English reader the period is one of peculiar interest. English arms restored to Pedro his kingdom; English princes, whose descendants have sat on the throne, married his daughters; and the best knight in English history fought in his cause a battle scarcely less glorious than the victories of Cressy and Poitiers.

In

Spanish history is, in one sense, the most disheartening in the world. It is the history of great qualities and striking successes, of fortunate opportunities, and favourable institutions, all thrown away or worse. The political institutions of Spain, and of Castile in particular, during the fourteenth century, present some peculiar features of the highest promise. no part of Europe had the feudal system been in its origin less oppressive and less debasing to the lower orders. In no country had the steadily increasing influence of the commons been more early acquired, and more jealously preserved. These advantages were owing no doubt in some degree to the proud susceptibility of the national character, but still more to the circumstances which attended the settlement of the Christian kingdoms of the Peninsula. They had not been peopled, like other countries, by the heirs of a victorious race mingled with the despised descendants of a vanquished population. The appellation of ricos Hombres (rich men), applied to the great nobles, seems to indicate the possession of material advantages rather than a recognised superiority of caste. Spaniards of all classes had been from time immemorial the warriors, either as chiefs or as soldiers, of one national army. The Moors had been the common foe, from whom the soil had been reconquered foot by foot, and against whom it was to be defended by the united efforts of Christians of all ranks. No sooner was the Arab population expelled from a town or a province, than the Spanish captains divided the land among their followers. These colonies of soldiers long retained their military organisation, and stood in readiness to repel aggression, or even to march against the enemy under chieftains of their own election. The arms which at first had been necessary to defend their ever-advancing frontier from the incursions of the Moors, served at a later period to protect the privileges of the towns against oppression at

* We ought, however, to mention that M. Mérimée's translator (vol. i. p. 20.) cites in a note the authority of Mr. Ford, for the opinion, that 'the title in no wise depended on wealth, though the sound has mis'led Ducange. The position of the ric determines the signification.'

home; and thus a military bourgeoisie was founded, whose rights even the feudal lords were obliged to recognise, and whose alliance the sovereign often found it prudent to court.

In the fourteenth century, the soil, it is true, was possessed exclusively by nobles, but the peasant who cultivated it received a salary for his labour, and was bound only by a voluntary contract. Indeed, in some districts of Castile, there existed small republics called Behetrias, where peasant landowners cultivated their own fields, and adopted, merely as it would seem out of deference for feudal custom, a lord of their own choice. The rights of these elected chiefs were little more than nominal; and the homage paid them must have been of a most temporary kind, if we may judge by the wording of the charters which, in recording the privileges of the Behetrias, specify their right to change their lord seven times in one day,' and to seek him 'from sea to sea,' that is to say, in all Castile.

But if the power of the great vassals of the Castilian crown was not considerable as a political body, their wealth and daring as individuals were such as to alarm the towns and communities, and often to endanger the royal authority itself. Half bandit and half soldier, the feudal lord in his inaccessible castle, from which he descended to pillage and devastate the surrounding country, was in fact independent of all laws. Complicated and ill-defined conditions of tenure gave rise to innumerable subtleties and evasions. A noble might be the vassal of several superiors. He owed homage not only to the king in whose domains he was born, as lord paramount, but also for any lands or office he might accept from other princes. The result was that of these numerous and often conflicting duties, he only performed those which self-interest recommended. The homage which ceased to be advantageous was immediately renounced; and, as if even the tie which binds a man to his native land was too great a restraint for such lawless characters, a ceremony termed denaturalisation was supposed to confer on the noble who performed it the right of choosing a new country. Nine days' residence in a foreign land, and the attestation of a notary, that on each of those days a public renunciation had been made of the homage due to the natural lord, constituted the act of denaturalisation. Nor was this left a dead letter. It was under the very forms of this feudal code that Fernando de Castro withdrew his allegiance from Pedro: to which, however, he returned at a later period, one of the few who continued faithful to the last.

'He crossed the river Miño, which separates Castile from Portugal, and encamped at Monzon, upon the Portuguese territory.

1850.

Alphonso XI.

141

Every day, after hearing mass, he forded the Miño, and entering Salvatierra, the first Castilian town which meets the traveller coming from Monzon, pronounced these words in the presence of a public notary: "I here take leave of King Don Pedro, King of Castile and Leon, and denaturalize myself for the following "causes: first, because the said king endeavoured to kill me in a "tourney at Valladolid, at the time of his marriage with Blanche of "Bourbon; secondly, because he has insulted my sister, first, "saying that he took her for wife and queen, and then after "treating her with contumely, leaving her." After each of these declarations he received an authenticated copy from the hands of the notary, and thus provided with nine verbal processes (sic in the translation), Fernando considered himself absolved from his oath of allegiance.'*

That Spain, like other kingdoms of the West, should have got involved in the network of two or more allegiances, is not so singular, as that it should have afterwards extricated its citizens in so simple a fashion. There is no part of International Law on which a little pains would be better employed at present, in coming to a general understanding, than what conditions should constitute allegiance. The popular rights of emigration and expatriation, under some form or other, are becoming more important every day; while their incompatibility with the extravagant doctrine of perpetual allegiance is embarrassing even the republican jurisprudence of the United States.

Alphonso XI., the father of Don Pedro, ascended the throne of Castile at a very critical moment. The feudal system had sunk to the lowest depth of anarchy under a succession of weak princes and long minorities. The fairest and wealthiest kingdom of the Peninsula was, in the year 1308, one scene of confusion, rapine, and bloodshed. It required all the prudence and courage of the young king to reduce his turbulent nobles and revolted communities to some kind of order; and it was only by pitting the hostile factions one against another, and by judiciously tempering severity with occasional clemency, that he succeeded in making that authority respected at last by all. But the evil he had arrested was not extirpated; and he saw the danger of exposing the royal authority to the hazards of a long peace. In the field, he was the natural leader of his brave, but unruly nobles; the chartered towns and communities readily fur

In the like manner Fernando of Aragon denaturalizes himself backwards and forwards between Aragon and Castile, according to the interest of the moment. Similar instances frequently recur throughout these volumes. Allen notices this singular privilege, in his 'Royal Prerogative.'

nished men and money, provided they were employed against a foreign foe; and even the clergy, whose privileges could not have been infringed with impunity for any less overruling object, did not dare to refuse the heavy sacrifices which the king might then impose. For there was at least one enemy against whom every Spaniard was always ready to unite; and the very appearance of whom, the king well knew, would not fail to reknit the relaxed ties of patriotism and discipline. A war against the Moors was sure to be carried on with all the energy of a national struggle and all the ardour of a crusade. Alphonso called on the Christian kings of Portugal and Aragon, to aid him in his holy enterprise; the Moors of Andalusia, on their side, invoked the aid of their African brethren. An infidel army far more numerous than that which five centuries before had conquered the whole Peninsula, and headed by the redoubted Abdul Hassan, crossed the straits. Once more the fate of Christendom seemed staked on the issue of a battle, and once more the advancing host of Islam was driven back. On the banks of Rio Salado, the Christian arms were completely victorious; so great was the multitude of Africans left dead on the field of battle, that thenceforward Spain was delivered from the fear of Moorish invasions. The victor now turned his arms against Gibraltar, the first conquest and the last stronghold of the infidels in Spain, the possession of which secured their intercourse with Barbary. But at the very moment when all seemed to promise success to his arms, Alphonso was attacked by the plague; and he died in the midst of his army, on the Good Friday of the year 1350, leaving his unsettled kingdom to his only legitimate son, Don Pedro the First. It is of this latter prince that M. Mérimée has undertaken to write the history.

The new reign began under no favourable auspices. All fears of foreign invasion had been dispelled, it is true, by the victorious arms of Alphonso, and there was no rival pretender to the throne: but the youthful king, at the age of fifteen, had to defend his royal authority against the cabals of nobles whom the genius and experience of his father had hardly been sufficient to restrain. From the first day of his accession, his life was to be one uninterrupted struggle for kingly independence, and he came to the conflict with all the revengeful determination of a proud and mortified spirit. The heir of the throne of Castile had been outraged by indignities, and tortured with jealousy from his very cradle. He had seen his mother, Doña Maria of Portugal, supplanted by a mistress, and his place in his father's affections usurped by bastard brothers. The day of his birth had been the signal for his father to break free from a