k," so giving rise to the mistake of
Spanish critics, who believe that Rabbi Santob, indisputably the author
of _Consejos_, became a convert to Christianity, and wrote, after his
conversion, the didactic poem on doctrinal Christianity, and perhaps
also the first "Dance of Death."[43] It was reserved for the acuteness
of German criticism to expose the error of this hypothesis. Of the three
works, only _Consejos_ belongs to Rabbi Santob, the others were
accidentally bound with it. In passing, the interesting circumstance may
be noted that in the first "Dance of Death" a bearded rabbi (_Rabbi
barbudo_) dances toward the universal goal between a priest and an
usurer. Santob de Carrion remained a Jew. His _consejos_, written when
he was advanced in age, are pervaded by loyalty to his king, but no less
to his faith, which he openly professed at the royal court, and whose
spiritual treasures he adroitly turned to poetic uses.

Santob, it is interesting to observe, was not a writer of erotic poetry.
He composed poems on moral subjects only, social satires and
denunciations of vice. Such are the _consejos_. It is in his capacity as
a preacher of morality that Santob is to be classed among troubadours.
First he addressed himself, with becoming deference, to the king,
leading him to consider God's omnipotence:

"As great, 'twixt heav'n and earth the space--
That ether pure and blue--
So great is God's forgiving grace
Your sins to lift from you.

And with His vast and wondrous might
He does His deeds of power;
But yours are puny in His sight,
For strength is not man's dower."

At that time it required more than ordinary courage to address a king in
this fashion; but Santob was old and poor, and having nothing to lose,
could risk losing everything. A democratic strain runs through his
verses; he delights in aiming his satires at the rich, the high-born,
and the powerful, and takes pride in his poverty and his fame as a poet:

"I will not have you think me less
Than others of my faith,
Who live on a generous king's largess,
Forsworn at every breath.

And if you deem my teachings true,
Reject them not with hate,
Because a minstrel sings to you
Who's not of knight's estate.

The fragrant, waving reed grows tall
From feeble root and thin,
And uncouth worms that lowly crawl
Most lustrous silk do spin.

Because beside a