The Cid.

by Pierre Corneille.

PREFACE.

Cid Campeador is the name given in histories, traditions and songs to the most celebrated of Spain's national heroes.

His real name was Rodrigo or Ruy Diaz (i.e. "son of Diego"), a Castilian n.o.ble by birth. He was born at Burgos about the year 1040.

There is so much of the mythical in the history of this personage that hypercritical writers, such as Masdeu, have doubted his existence; but recent researches have succeeded in separating the historical from the romantic.

Under Sancho II, son of Ferdinand, he served as commander of the royal troops. In a war between the two brothers, Sancho II. and Alfonso VI. of Leon, due to some dishonorable stratagem on the part of Rodrigo, Sancho was victorious and his brother was forced to seek refuge with the Moorish King of Toledo.

In 1072 Sancho was a.s.sa.s.sinated at the siege of Zamora, and as he left no heir the Castilians had to acknowledge Alfonso as King. Although Alfonso never forgave the Cid for having, as leader of the Castilians, compelled him to swear that he (the Cid) had no hand in the murder of his brother Sancho, as a conciliatory measure, he gave his cousin Ximena, daughter of the Count of Oviedo, to the Cid in marriage, but afterwards, in 1081, when he found himself firmly seated on the throne, yielding to his own feelings of resentment and incited by the Leonese n.o.bles, he banished him from the kingdom.

At the head of a large body of followers, the Cid joined the Moorish King of Saragossa, in whose service he fought against both Moslems and Christians. It was probably during this exile that he was first called the Cid, an Arabic t.i.tle, which means the _lord_. He was very successful in all his battles.

In conjunction with Mostain, grandson of Moctadir, he invaded Valencia in 1088, but afterwards carried on operations alone, and finally, after a long siege, made himself master of the city in June, 1094. He retained possession of Valencia for five years and reigned like an independent sovereign over one of the richest territories in the Peninsula, but died suddenly in 1099 of anger and grief on hearing that his relative, Alvar Fanez, had been vanquished and the army which he had sent to his a.s.sistance had been defeated.

After the Cid's death his wife held Valencia till 1102, when she was obliged to yield to the Almoravides and fly to Castile, where she died in 1104. Her remains were placed by those of her lord in the monastery of San Pedro de Cardena.

THE CID.

ACT THE FIRST.

Scene I.--CHIMeNE and ELVIRA.

_Chimene._ Elvira, have you given me a really true report? Do you conceal nothing that my father has said?

_Elvira._ All my feelings within me are still delighted with it. He esteems Rodrigo as much as you love him; and if I do not misread his mind, he will command you to respond to his pa.s.sion.

_Chimene._ Tell me then, I beseech you, a second time, what makes you believe that he approves of my choice; tell me anew what hope I ought to entertain from it. A discourse so charming cannot be too often heard; you cannot too forcibly promise to the fervor of our love the sweet liberty of manifesting itself to the light of day. What answer has he given regarding the secret suit which Don Sancho and Don Rodrigo are paying to you? Have you not too clearly shown the disparity between the two lovers which inclines me to the one side?

_Elvira._ No; I have depicted your heart as filled with an indifference which elates not either of them nor destroys hope, and, without regarding them with too stern or too gentle an aspect, awaits the commands of a father to choose a spouse. This respect has delighted him--his lips and his countenance gave me at once a worthy testimony of it; and, since I must again tell you the tale, this is what he hastened to say to me of them and of you: 'She is in the right. Both are worthy of her; both are sprung from a n.o.ble, valiant, and faithful lineage; young but yet who show by their mien [_lit._ cause to easily be read in their eyes] the brilliant valor of their brave ancestors. Don Rodrigo, above all, has no feature in his face which is not the n.o.ble [_lit._ high] representative of a man of courage [_lit._ heart], and descends from a house so prolific in warriors, that they enter into life [_lit._ take birth there] in the midst of laurels. The valor of his father, in his time without an equal, as long as his strength endured, was considered a marvel; the furrows on his brow bear witness to [_lit._ have engraved his] exploits, and tell us still what he formerly was. I predict of the son what I have seen of the father, and my daughter, in one word, may love him and please me.' He was going to the council, the hour for which approaching, cut short this discourse, which he had scarcely commenced; but from these few words, I believe that his mind [_lit._ thoughts] is not quite decided between your two lovers. The king is going to appoint an instructor for his son, and it is he for whom an honor so great is designed. This choice is not doubtful, and his unexampled valor cannot tolerate that we should fear any compet.i.tion. As his high exploits render him without an equal, in a hope so justifiable he will be without a rival; and since Don Rodrigo has persuaded his father, when going out from the council, to propose the affair. I leave you to judge whether he will seize this opportunity [_lit._ whether he will take his time well], and whether all your desires will soon be gratified.

_Chimene._ It seems, however, that my agitated soul refuses this joy, and finds itself overwhelmed by it. One moment gives to fate different aspects, and in this great happiness I fear a great reverse.

_Elvira._ You see this fear happily deceived.

_Chimene._ Let us go, whatever it may be, to await the issue.

Scene II.--The INFANTA, LEONORA, and a PAGE.

_Infanta (to Page_). Page, go, tell Chimene from me, that to-day she is rather long in coming to see me, and that my friendship complains of her tardiness. [_Exit Page._]

_Leonora._ Dear lady, each day the same desire urges you, and at your interview with her, I see you every day ask her how her love proceeds.

_Infanta._ It is not without reason. I have almost compelled her to receive the arrows with which her soul is wounded. She loves Rodrigo, and she holds him from my hand; and by means of me Don Rodrigo has conquered her disdain. Thus, having forged the chains of these lovers, I ought to take an interest in seeing their troubles at an end.

_Leonora._ Dear lady, however, amidst their good fortune you exhibit a grief which proceeds to excess. Does this love, which fills them both with gladness, produce in this n.o.ble heart [of yours] profound sadness?

And does this great interest which you take in them render you unhappy, whilst they are happy? But I proceed too far, and become indiscreet.

_Infanta._ My sadness redoubles in keeping the secret. Listen, listen at length, how I have struggled; listen what a.s.saults my constancy [_lit._ virtue or valor] yet braves. Love is a tyrant which spares no one. This young cavalier, this lover which I give [her]--I love him.

_Leonora._ You love him!

_Infanta._ Place your hand upon my heart, and feel [_lit._ see] how it throbs at the name of its conqueror! how it recognizes him!

_Leonora._ Pardon me, dear lady, if I am wanting in respect in blaming this pa.s.sion; a n.o.ble princess to so far forget herself as to admit in her heart a simple [_or_, humble] cavalier! And what would the King say?--what would Castile say? Do you still remember of whom you are the daughter?

_Infanta._ I remember it so well, that I would shed my blood rather than degrade my rank. I might a.s.suredly answer to thee, that, in n.o.ble souls, worth alone ought to arouse pa.s.sions; and, if my love sought to excuse itself, a thousand famous examples might sanction it. But I will not follow these--where my honor is concerned, the captivation of my feelings does not abate my courage, and I say to myself always, that, being the daughter of a king, all other than a monarch is unworthy of me. When I saw that my heart could not protect itself, I myself gave away that which I did not dare to take; and I put, in place of my self, Chimene in its fetters, and I kindled their pa.s.sions [_lit._ fires] in order to extinguish my own. Be then no longer surprised if my troubled soul with impatience awaits their bridal; thou seest that my happiness [_lit._ repose] this day depends upon it. If love lives by hope, it perishes with it; it is a fire which becomes extinguished for want of fuel; and, in spite of the severity of my sad lot, if Chimene ever has Rodrigo for a husband, my hope is dead and my spirit, is healed.

Meanwhile, I endure an incredible torture; even up to this bridal.

Rodrigo is dear to me; I strive to lose him, and I lose him with regret, and hence my secret anxiety derives its origin. I see with sorrow that love compels me to utter sighs for that [object] which [as a princess] I must disdain. I feel my spirit divided into two portions; if my courage is high, my heart is inflamed [with love]. This bridal is fatal to me, I fear it, and [yet] I desire it; I dare to hope from it only an incomplete joy; my honor and my love have for me such attractions, that I [shall] die whether it be accomplished, or whether it be not accomplished.

_Leonora._ Dear lady, after that I have nothing more to say, except that, with you, I sigh for your misfortunes; I blamed you a short time since, now I pity you. But since in a misfortune [i.e. an ill-timed love] so sweet and so painful, your n.o.ble spirit [_lit._ virtue]

contends against both its charm and its strength, and repulses its a.s.sault and regrets its allurements, it will restore calmness to your agitated feelings. Hope then every [good result] from it, and from the a.s.sistance of time; hope everything from heaven; it is too just [_lit._ it has too much justice] to leave virtue in such a long continued torture.

_Infanta._ My sweetest hope is to lose hope.

(_The Page re-enters._)

_Page._ By your commands, Chimene comes to see you.

_Infanta_ (to _Leonora_). Go and converse with her in that gallery [yonder].

_Leonora._ Do you wish to continue in dreamland?

_Infanta._ No, I wish, only, in spite of my grief, to compose myself [_lit._ to put my features a little more at leisure]. I follow you.

[_Leonora goes out along with the Page._]

Scene III.--The INFANTA (alone).

Just heaven, from which I await my relief, put, at last, some limit to the misfortune which is overcoming [_lit._ possesses] me; secure my repose, secure my honor. In the happiness of others I seek my own. This bridal is equally important to three [parties]; render its completion more prompt, or my soul more enduring. To unite these two lovers with a marriage-tie is to break all my chains and to end all my sorrows. But I tarry a little too long; let us go to meet Chimene, and, by conversation, to relieve our grief.

Scene IV.--COUNT DE GORMAS and DON DIEGO (meeting).