In The
Plaza Of The Cortes A Fine Bronze Statue Stands Facing The Prado,
Catching On His Chiselled Curls And Forehead The First Rays Of Morning
That Leap Over The Hill Of The Retiro.
It is a well-poised, energetic,
chivalrous figure, and Mr. Ger-mond de Lavigne has criticised it as
having more of the sabreur than the savant.
The objection does not seem
well founded. It is not pleasant for the world to be continually
reminded of its meannesses. We do not want to see Cervantes's days of
poverty and struggle eternized in statues. We know that he always looked
back with fondness on his campaigning days, and even in his decrepit age
he called himself a soldier. If there were any period in that troubled
history that could be called happy, surely it was the time when he had
youth and valor and hope as the companions of his toil. It would have
been a precious consolation to his cheerless age to dream that he could
stand in bronze, as we hope he may stand for centuries, in the
unchanging bloom of manhood, with the cloak and sword of a gentleman and
soldier, bathing his Olympian brow forever in the light of all the
mornings, and gazing, at evening, at the rosy reflex flushing the
east, - the memory of the day and the promise of the dawn.
End of Castilian Days, by John Hay
Enter page number
Previous
Page 254 of 254
Words from 67523 to 67759
of 67759
