ip of the Christians' God and the Holy Virgin.

After him, Seville became the theatre of momentous deeds and events that
had a far-reaching influence on the history of the country. Into her lap
was poured the riches of the New World; within her halls Queen Isabella
laid the foundation of her united kingdom; from Seville came the
intellectual stimulus that revived the arts and letters of the whole
Peninsula. Here were born and labored Pedro Campana, Alejo Fernandez,
Luis de Vargas, the several Herreras, Francisco de Zurbaran, Alfonso
Cano, Diego de Silva Velasquez, Bartolome Esteban Murillo, and Miguel
Florentino. The riches of the western world made of Seville a second
Florence, where art found ready patrons, and literature, cultivated
protectors. She rivaled the great schools of Italy and the Netherlands,
but out of her secret council chambers came the Institution of the Holy
Office, the scourge that withered the nation. In the latter half of the
sixteenth century, forty-five thousand people were put to death in the
archbishopric of Seville. Finally, under Philip II, Seville and her
great church rose to stupendous wealth and power.

"When Philip II died, loyal Seville honored the departed king by a
magnificent funeral service in the Cathedral. A tremendous monument was
designed by Oviedo. On Nov. 25th, 1598, the mourning multitude flocked
to the dim Cathedral while the people knelt upon the stones, and the
solemn music floated through the air. There was a disturbance among a
part of the congregation. A man was charged with deriding the imposing
monument and creating disorder. He was a tax-gatherer and ex-soldier of
the city named Don Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra. Some of the citizens
took his side, for there was a feud between the civil and the
ecclesiastical authorities in Seville. The brawler was expelled from the
cathedral,--but he had his revenge. He composed a satirical poem upon
the tomb of the King which was read everywhere in the city:--

_To the Monument of the King of Seville_

I vow to God I quake with surprise,
Could I describe it, I would give a crown,
And who, that gazes on it in the town
But starts aghast to see its wondrous size;
Each part a million cost, I should devise:
What pity 'tis, ere centuries have flown,
Old time will mercilessly cast it down!
Thou rival'st Rome, O Seville, in my eyes!
I bet, the soul of him who's dead and blest,
To dwell within