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Title: The Picturesque Antiquities of Spain

Author: Nathaniel Armstrong Wells

Release date: June 15, 2010 [eBook #32821]

Language: English

Credits: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
        at http://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PICTURESQUE ANTIQUITIES OF SPAIN ***




Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http:://www.pgdp.net









[Illustration: CHAPEL OF SAN ISIDRO,

IN THE CHURCH OF SAN ANDRES, MADRID.]




THE

PICTURESQUE ANTIQUITIES

OF

SPAIN;

DESCRIBED IN A SERIES OF LETTERS,

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS,

REPRESENTING MOORISH PALACES, CATHEDRALS, AND OTHER MONUMENTS OF ART,

CONTAINED IN THE CITIES OF

BURGOS, VALLADOLID, TOLEDO, AND SEVILLE.

BY

NATHANIEL ARMSTRONG WELLS.

LONDON:

RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET,

Publisher in Ordinary to Her Majesty.

M.DCCC.XLVI.

LONDON:

Printed by S. & J. BENTLEY, WILSON, and FLEY, Bangor House, Shoe Lane.




PREFACE.


The author of the following letters is aware that his publication would
have possessed greater utility, had the architectural descriptions been
more minute. He ventures to hope, however, that this imperfection may be
in some measure balanced by the more extended sphere opened to whatever
information it may contain.

The absence of many technical expressions, especially those which enter
into a detailed description of almost all Gothic buildings, and the
employment of which was forbidden by the occasion, may tend to
facilitate the satisfaction of popular curiosity respecting Spanish art:
the more so from the circumstance that the most intelligent in such
subjects are scarcely sufficiently agreed on the application of
technical terms, to allow of the compilation of a standard vocabulary.
His ambition will be more than satisfied, should his past, and perhaps
future researches, succeed, in some degree, in pioneering the path for a
more scientific pen.

Should this work fall into the hands of any reader, whose expectations
of entertainment may have been encouraged by the announcement of another
Spanish tour, but who may feel but moderate enthusiasm for the artistic
and monumental glories of the Peninsula, an explanation is due to him,
exonerative of the author from much of the responsibility attached to
the matter-of-fact tone of his descriptions. It is no less his nature
than it was his wish to paint what he saw as he saw it. Unfortunately
his visits to Spain took place after the accomplishment of the
revolution, the hardest blows of which were aimed at her church. The
confiscation of the ecclesiastical revenues has necessarily stripped the
processions and other ceremonies of their former splendour, and by
suppressing what constituted one of their chief attractions to the
native population, transferred the interest of the lover of the
picturesque from the bright colours of animated grouping, to the dead
background of stone and marble they have left.

In studying, however, to preserve this strict accuracy in all that
related to the principal subject of his correspondence, his aim was to
enliven it by the introduction of any incidents worthy of notice which
came under his observation. In this object he hopes he may have
succeeded.

One more remark is necessary. The letters from Seville, which form the
second of the two parts into which the volume is divided, although
placed last in order of succession, date in reality from an earlier
period than the rest; and even from a different tour, as will appear
from the description of the route. They were addressed to various
individuals, whereas those forming the first part were all written to
the same person. They are thus placed with a view to geographical order
and clearness, and to a sort of unity, which appeared advisable in the
subject of a volume. The two excursions having been separated by an
interval of three years, should alterations have taken place during that
period in the places described, the above circumstance not being borne
in mind might lead to an appearance of chronological inaccuracy in the
descriptions, although there is not much probability of the existence of
such changes.

LONDON. _December 1845._




CONTENTS.


                                                              PAGE

PART I.


LETTER I.

TO MRS. C----R                                                   1

LETTER II.

ROUTE TO SPAIN THROUGH FRANCE                                    9

LETTER III.

THE BASQUE PROVINCES                                            15

LETTER IV.

ARRIVAL AT BURGOS. CATHEDRAL.                                   28

LETTER V.

TOMB OF THE CID. CITADEL.                                       52

LETTER VI.

CARTUJA DE MIRAFLORES. CONVENT OF LAS HUELGAS.                  70

LETTER VII.

ROUTE TO MADRID. MUSEO.                                         78

LETTER VIII.

PICTURESQUE POSITION OF TOLEDO. FLORINDA.                      103

LETTER IX.

CATHEDRAL OF TOLEDO                                            121

LETTER X.

CAFES. WEDDING CEREMONY. CATHEDRAL CONTINUED. ALCAZAR HOSPITAL
OF SANTA CRUZ. CONVENT OF LA CONCEPTION. MYSTERIOUS CAVERN.
CONVENT OF SANTA FE, OR OF SANTIAGO. SONS-IN-LAW OF THE CID.   143

LETTER XI.

STREETS OF TOLEDO. EL AMA DE CASA. MONASTERY OF SAN JUAN DE
LOS REYES. PALACE OF DON HURTADO DE MENDOZA.                   172

LETTER XII.

ARAB MONUMENTS. PICTURES. THE PRINCESS GALIANA. ENVIRONS.      195

LETTER XIII.

CASTLES OF ALMONACID, GUADAMUR, MONTALBAN, AND ESCALONA.
TORRIJOS.                                                      214

LETTER XIV.

VALLADOLID. SAN PABLO. COLLEGE OF SAN GREGORIO. ROUTE BY
SARAGOZA.                                                      240

PART II.--SEVILLE.


LETTER XV.

JOURNEY TO SEVILLE. CHARACTER OF THE SPANIARDS. VALLEY OF
THE RHONE.                                                     259

LETTER XVI.

VOYAGE TO GIBRALTAR                                            288

LETTER XVII.

CADIZ. ARRIVAL AT SEVILLE.                                     308

LETTER XVIII.

THE ARABS IN SPAIN. ALCAZAR OF SEVILLE.                        315

LETTER XIX.

CATHEDRAL OF SEVILLE                                           350

LETTER XX.

SPANISH BEGGARS. HAIRDRESSING. THE GIRALDA. CASA DE PILATOS.
MONASTERIES. ITALICA.                                          369

LETTER XXI.

PRIVATE HOUSES, AND LOCAL CUSTOMS IN SEVILLE                   399

LETTER XXII.

INQUISITION. COLLEGE OF SAN TELMO. CIGAR MANUFACTORY. BULL
CIRCUS. EXCHANGE. AYUNTAMIENTO.                                416

FOOTNOTES




ENGRAVED PLATES.


                                            PAGE

CHAPEL OF SAN ISIDRO, MADRID       To face Title.

TRANSEPT OF CATHEDRAL, BURGOS                 38

INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH OF MIRAFLOR  ES        72

VIEW OF TOLEDO                               106

INTERIOR OF CATHEDRAL, TOLEDO                140

FAÇADE OF SAN GREGORIO, VALLADOLID           248

HALL OF AMBASSADORS, DO.                     315

FAÇADE OF THE ALCAZAR, SEVILLE               325

GREAT COURT OF     DO.                       328

INTERIOR OF THE CATHEDRAL, SEVILLE           353


WOOD ENGRAVINGS.

ARCO DE SANTA MARIA. BURGOS.                  30

INTERIOR OF THE CHOIR, CATHEDRAL OF BURGOS    33

SCULPTURE IN THE APSE,      DO.       DO.     40

HEAD OF ST. FRANCIS                           48

FOUNTAIN OF SANTA MARIA, BURGOS               69

ITALIAN GALLERY AT THE MUSEO, MADRID          94

FLORINDA'S BATH, TOLEDO                      112

APSE OF THE CATHEDRAL, TOLEDO                129

COSTUME OF A MILITARY NUN, SANTA FE, TOLEDO  165

CHURCH OF SAN JUAN DE LOS REYES, DO.         179

CLOISTER OF SAN JUAN DE LOS REYES, DO.       182

INTERIOR OF SANTA MARIA LA BLANCA, DO.       196

INTERIOR OF CHRISTO DE LA LUZ,   DO.         201

CASTLE OF GUADAMUR. ENVIRONS OF DO.          226

FAÇADE OF SAN PABLO. VALLADOLID              242

COURT OF SAN GREGORIO. VALLADOLID            249

COURT OF DOLLS, ALCAZAR, SEVILLE             331

FOUNTAINS AT THE ALCAZAR                     339

PORTAL OF SAN TELMO, SEVILLE                 422




PICTURESQUE ANTIQUITIES

OF

SPAIN.




LETTER I.

TO MRS. C---- R.


Rue de Richelieu.

You perceived at a glance the satisfaction you caused me, when, on
receiving my temporary adieus, you requested me to send you some account
of my travels in Spain. Had it not been so, you had not been in
possession, on that day, of your usual penetration. Indeed, you no doubt
foresaw it; aware that, next to the pleasure of acquiring ocular
information respecting the peculiar objects which interest an
individual, there is no greater one than that of communicating to a
spirit, animated by congenial tastes, the results of his explorations.
You must have foreseen, that, with my recollections of the pleasure I
had derived from our excursions in one of the most interesting regions
of France, during which I was witness to the intelligence and rapidity
of perception you displayed in the appreciation of the monuments of the
Middle Ages, the opportunity of committing to paper the impressions I
should receive in a country so rich in those treasures, with a view to
your information, would give an additional interest to my tour, as well
as encouragement in surmounting the obstacles to be met with among a
people not yet broken in to the curiosity of tourists.

You professed also, with a modesty always becoming to talent and worth,
a complete ignorance respecting Spain: adding, that you would be
grateful for every sort of information; and that you were anxious to be
enlightened on the subject not only of the monuments and fine arts, but
also of the history of that country, of which you had never had an
opportunity of informing yourself; summing up by the enumeration of the
three names of the Cid, Charles the Fifth, and Roderic the Goth, the
entire amount of your acquaintance with the leading characters of
Spanish history.

Indeed, the ignorance you profess with some exaggeration, is more or
less general in our country; nor is it surprising that such should be
the case. Spain has been in modern times in the background of European
progress. The thousand inconveniences of its routes and inns have
deterred the most enterprising from making it a place of resort; and
while a hundred less interesting scenes of travel, such as Baden-Baden,
Bohemia, sporting adventures in Norway, or winterings in St. Petersburg,
have claimed your attention during the reposes of quadrilles, and
substantiated the conversation of several of your morning visitors,
Spain has been unnoticed and unknown--laid on the shelf with the Arabian
Nights--considered a sort of fabulous country, which it would be
charming to know, but with which there would never be a chance of
forming an acquaintance; and you have contented yourself with a sort of
general information respecting it, derived from a few romances and
poems. You are intimate with Boabdil and the wars of Granada, but to
those events is limited your knowledge of its ancient history; and the
reigns of Charles the Fifth and Philip the Second, with the addition of
some confused visions, in which _autos-da-fé_ and dungeons contrast in a
rather gloomy background with laughing majas, whirling their
castagnettes to the soft cadences of guitars, fill up the remaining
space allotted to Spain in your recollections.

It would be a task full of interest for me--possessed, as I shall
probably be, of ample opportunities for its accomplishment--to draw up
for your information a summary of the leading events of Spanish
history; connecting them by the chain of reigns of the successive
sovereigns; and thus to press into a limited compass a sort of abstract
of the annals of this extraordinary nation: but I am deterred by the
certainty that such an attempt, by me, would fail of its intended
object. The events, thus slurred over, would have the effect of whetting
the appetite for knowledge, which they would not satisfy; and the
interminable lists of monarchs, of successions, usurpations, alliances
and intermarriages, rendered doubly intricate by the continual
recurrence of the same names, without sufficient details to
particularise each--a chaos of outlines without the necessary shading to
bring out the figures from the canvass--would not only set at defiance
the clearest memory, but would be a trial which I would not for worlds
impose upon your patience. No history is more attractive than that of
Spain; and those works which exist upon the subject, although all, more
or less, sullied with inaccuracies, and most of them infected with
prejudice, and immersed in superstitious delusion, are still well worth
your perusal; but it would lead me out of my depth, were I to undertake
in my correspondence more than an occasional historical quotation, when
required by the interest attached to any monument which it may fall to
my lot to describe.

Were I not to transmit to you a conscientious and faithful account of
all that I shall see, I should be guilty of cruelty; and that the more
base, from the certain impunity that must attend it. I say this, from
the impossibility of your ever undertaking the same journey, and
consequently of your ever being able to compare my portraits with their
originals. In fact, the incompatibility of your nature, and that of the
Spanish climate, must ever be present to me, who, during the vivifying
heats of the late very bearable _canicule_, in your French château--so
constructed as to perform the functions of an atmospheric sieve, by
separating the wind, which rushed through its doors and windows,
judiciously placed in parallels for the purpose, from the warmer
sunshine without--was witness, nevertheless, to your unaffected
distress, when you protested against any lofty, oak-panelled room being
sat or reclined in by more than one human being at a time, lest it
should be over-heated; placing thus an obstacle in the way of
conversation, in which to shine is your especial province, by rendering
it necessary to converse through various open doors; while, were an
additional testimony necessary to prove the sincerity of your
sufferings, your favourite of favourites, Caliph, repulsed and
uncaressed, hung his silken ears, as he solemnly retreated to coil
himself on a distant rug, and voted the dog-days a misnomer.

Nor were you contented with your atmosphere, until, the season of
insects and _al-fresco_ suppers being long left behind, and the autumnal
equinox having peremptorily closed the doors and windows, fitted, alas!
by a carpenter who flourished in the reign of Louis the Fourteenth, so
plentiful a supply of air was afforded by the handy-works of the said
carpenter, that the Chinese screen had some difficulty in maintaining
its post, and the flames of the well-furnished elm-fire ascended with a
roar that would have shamed many a cataract of the rival element. Not
but that I would willingly forego the opportunity of sending you
erroneous information, in exchange for your presence in that country;
and for your assistance in comprehending the nature of a people
apparently composed of such contradictory ingredients. You might
probably succeed in fathoming the hidden springs of character, which
give birth to a crowd of anomalies difficult to explain. You would
discover by what mystery of organization a people, subject to the
influence of violent passions, combine an abject subjection to the forms
of etiquette, carried to its extreme in every-day life, with occasional
outbreaks of adventure and romance worthy of the days of Orlando and
Rodomonte; and account for a nation exchanging a costume which combines
utility with grace, for one inferior in both respects. Inventors of
whatever is most fascinating in dances and music--you would discover the
motive which induces them to abandon both, but principally the first,
which they replace by the French _rigodon_, or dancing-made-easy, and
adapted to youth, manhood, and all stages of paralysis; and, possessing
the cathedrals of Leon, Burgos, and Seville, to denounce Gothic
architecture as barbarous, and to brand it with the contemptuous
denomination of "crested masonry."

Should my mono-(--monument-) mania run riot, and over-describe,
over-taxing even your passion for that branch of art, be assured--and to
this promise you may always look back for consolation and
encouragement--that I will not write you a history of the recent, or any
previous Spanish revolution, _apropos_ of the first sentry-box I meet
with, even though its form be that of a Lilliputian brick castle. Nor
shall my first glimpse of a matador occasion you a list of bull-fights,
voluminous enough to line the circumference of the _barrera_. No
Diligence shall be waylaid, nor in my presence shall any ladies' fingers
be amputated, the quicker to secure her rings, if I can possibly avoid
it; and, as far as depends on me, I shall arrive in a whole skin at each
journey's end, and without poisoning you or myself with garlick, unless
the new Cortes pass a law for denying to the stranger all other sorts of
aliment.

I have resolved, by a process of reasoning which I need not at present
impart to you, and in virtue of a permission which I have little doubt
of your granting, to publish my part of our correspondence. I think that
neither of us will be a loser by this plan, however conceited I may
appear to you for saying so. Yourself, in the first place, must be a
gainer by the perusal of descriptions, on which, from their being
prepared for the ordeal of a less indulgent eye, greater care will
necessarily be expended: the public may benefit in obtaining
information, which shall be at all events accurate, relative to subjects
as yet inadequately appreciated by those they are the most likely to
interest: while the chief gainer, in the event of these two ends being
attained, will of course be your devoted and humble correspondent.




LETTER II.

ROUTE TO SPAIN THROUGH FRANCE.


Bayonne.

The position of Burgos on the principal line of communication by which
Madrid is approached from the north of Europe; the fact of its being the
first city met with, after crossing the Pyrenees, in which monuments are
found remaining of the former genius and grandeur of the country; and
the name of which calls up the more stirring and eventful epochs of
Spanish history,--render it, notwithstanding its actual distance from
the frontier, a sort of introduction or gateway to Spain--the Spain of
the tourist.

The most agreeable and least troublesome way of visiting the best parts
of Spain excludes, it is true, this route; for the provinces of the
Peninsula which combine the greater number of requisites for the
enjoyment of life with the most attractive specimens of the picturesque,
whether natural or artificial, are those nearest to the coast, and they
are approached more conveniently by sea. Those, however, who can devote
sufficient time, will be repaid, by a tour in the interior of the
country, for the increase of trouble it may occasion them; and this tour
should precede the visit to the maritime provinces, as it will render
their superior comforts and climate the more acceptable from the
contrast. The scenery of the Pyrenees, and the passing acquaintance
formed with the original and picturesque population of the Basque
provinces, secure the traveller against any danger of ennui throughout
the land-journey between the frontier and the city of Burgos.

There does not exist the same security throughout the extent of route
which it is necessary to travel in order to reach this frontier. The
approach to Spain across the south-western provinces of France offers
few objects worthy of detaining us on our way to the Peninsula. It is
one of the least interesting of French routes. From Paris you pass
through Orleans and Tours. At Chatellerault--between the latter city and
Poitiers--the inn-door is besieged by women offering knives for sale. It
is everywhere known that cutlery is not one of the departments of French
manufactures which have attained the greatest degree of superiority. A
glance at the specimens offered for our choice while changing horses at
Chatellerault, showed them to be very bad, even for France.

This did not, however, prevent a multitude of travellers from purchasing
each his knife, nor one of them from laying in a plentiful stock,
stating that he destined a knife for each member of his
family--evidently one of the most numerous in France. I inquired of a
native the explanation of this scene, and whether these knives were
considered superior to those met with in other towns. "Oh no," was the
reply; "but it is usual to buy knives here." I ventured to say I thought
them very bad. "That is of no consequence; because, whenever you have
passed through Chatellerault, every one asks you for a knife made on the
spot." These victims of custom had paid enormous prices for their
acquisitions.

Poitiers is a crazy old town, but contains one of the most admirable
specimens of the architecture immediately preceding the pointed, or
ogivale, and which the French savans call "the Romane." I allude to the
church called "the Notre Dame de Poitiers." The west front is highly
ornamented, and unites all the peculiar richness with the quaintness and
simplicity of design which characterize that fine old style. I must not
omit the forest of Chatellerault, passed through on leaving that town.
It is famous as the scene of the picnic given to the ladies of the
neighbouring city by the officers of a Polish regiment quartered there,
immediately before the breaking out of the Peninsular war. It is
related that Polish gallantry overstepped etiquette to such a
degree,--and _that_ by premeditation,--as to urge these cavaliers, by
force of bayonet, and sentries, to separate all the husbands, and other
male relatives, from the fairer portion of the guests. The consequences
of such a termination of the festivities may easily be imagined;
Bonaparte, a rigid judge with regard to all divorces except his own, on
receiving the complaint of the insulted town, condemned the officers _en
masse_ to be decimated, and the survivors degraded from their rank. He
relented, however, afterwards, on an understanding that they were to
regain their sullied laurels in the Peninsula; where, in fact, in
consequence of his orders, such opportunities were afforded them, that
scarcely a man in the regiment survived the earliest campaigns.

The inhabitants of Chatellerault are said to take great offence on being
asked their age, suspecting the inquirer of a malicious calculation.

The new quarter of Bordeaux is handsome, spacious, and airy. In the
promenade called "La Quinconce," on the bank of the river, a large
insulated edifice, the most monumental in view, is discovered by the
inscription on its front to be an establishment for warm baths. At one
extremity of the principal façade is seen, in sculptured letters, "Bains
des dames;" at the other, "Bains des hommes." At this latter entrance a
handsome staircase leads to the corridor of general communication, on
the unsullied white wall of which the code of discipline of the
establishment, traced in large sable characters, forces itself on the
notice of the visitor. It consists of the following single and rather
singular statute: "Il est expressement défendu aux garçons de permettre
à deux hommes de se servir de la même baignoire." After some reflection
I concluded it to be a measure of precaution with regard to cleanliness,
carried, no doubt, to an extreme at Bordeaux. This town is well
deserving of a few days' halt, should the traveller's object be
amusement, or the pleasures of the table, for which it enjoys a
well-merited reputation. It is a large and handsome city, the second in
France in beauty, and vies with the capital in the elegance of its shops
and principal streets. The theatre is, externally, the finest in France;
and there is, besides the cathedral, and surpassing it in interest and
antiquity, a remarkable Gothic church.

Of the sixty leagues which separate this town from Bayonne, forty afford
the most perfect example of monotony. One sighs for the Steppes of
Russia. These are the well-known Landes, consisting of uncultivated
sands and morass; now covered league after league with the unvarying
gloom of the pine and cork forests,--now dreary and bare,--but ever
presenting to the wearied eye a wide interminable waste, replete with
melancholy and desolation. It is true, that a day of pouring rain was
not calculated to set off to advantage the qualities of such a region,
and should in strict justice be admitted in evidence before passing
condemnation on the Landes.




LETTER III.

THE BASQUE PROVINCES.


Burgos.

It never causes me surprise when I see the efforts made by persons of
limited means to obtain the situation of Consul in a continental town.

In spite of one's being, as it were, tied to one's residence,--and that
not one's home,--there are advantages which counterbalance the evil. The
place carries with it a certain degree of consequence. One feels oneself
suddenly a man of influence, and a respectable public character. I have
heard one, certainly far from being high on the list of these
functionaries, termed by a humbler inhabitant of his "residence," the
"Premier Consul."

The income, too, is, it is true, limited; but then one is usually in a
cheap place. In fact, I always envied these favoured individuals. No
calling, however, is without its _déboires_. It seems as if Providence
had decreed that an income cannot be fairly, if agreeably, earned.
Thus, the set-off against the bliss of the consul, is the necessity he
is under of holding out his hand for his fee. I make these remarks, to
introduce to your notice an ingenious method, put in practice--probably
invented--by our consul at Bayonne, for getting over the irksomeness of
this duty. I found him in his _bureau_, pen in hand, and a large sheet
of official-shaped paper before him, half written over. On my passport
being presented for his _visa_, his countenance assumed a painful
expression, in which regret was blended with a sort of tendency to
compassion, and which at first occasioned me a sensation of alarm,
conjuring up in my imagination all the consequences of an irregular
passport--tedious routes to be retraced, time lost, expense incurred,
and suspicion, and even incarceration--infection--death!

Meanwhile he pointed to the letter he was writing, and, drawing forward
with the other hand a chair, said that he was at that moment
memorializing the Foreign Office on the subject of these visas; that his
pain was extreme at seeing travellers compelled to send or come to his
office, and to lose thus much valuable time; he was likewise concerned
at their having to pay three francs each for so useless a ceremony as
his visa; but he wished it to be remarked, that it was at present a
ceremony quite indispensable; since, only four days back, a gentleman
had been compelled to return from the Spanish frontier (a distance of
seven leagues) in the middle of the night, in consequence of his having
neglected this, as yet, necessary observance.[1]

Leaving Bayonne by Diligence, although still at some distance from the
frontier, you are already in a Spanish vehicle. The only difference
consists in its being drawn by horses as far as Irun, a few hundred
yards in Spain, at which place they are replaced by a team of mules; but
the _mayoral_ is Spanish from the commencement, as also usually the
greater number of the travellers. From the first view of Spanish ground,
the monotony of the landscape ceases, and gives place to picturesque
scenery. This effect is as sudden as if produced by the whistle of a
scene-shifter. From the brow of a hill the valley of the Bidassoa opens
on the view, the bay on the right, two or three towns in the centre, and
beyond them, stretching to the left, the chain of the Pyrenees. This
opening scene is very satisfactory to the newly arrived traveller, whose
expectations have been rising towards fever-heat as he gradually neared
the object of his dreams--the "renowned romantic land;" the more so, as
he is well prepared, by the Landes of France, to enjoy to the utmost
the variety of scene afforded by the two days of mountain and valley
which separate the frontier from the town of Vitoria.

The Diligence comes to a halt every afternoon; the day's journey having
commenced at three in the morning. There are three of these days between
Bayonne and Burgos. At Tolosa and Vitoria--the intermediate places of
rest--the system is as follows: Arriving at about four in the afternoon,
an interval is allowed of about two hours, which in a long journey can
always be profitably employed, until the meal, called supper. This is
Homerically plentiful, and varied sufficiently to suit the tastes of all
such as are accustomed to the vicissitudes of travelling. The repast
over, all gradually retire to their sleeping apartments, where they are
undisturbed until two o'clock in the morning.

At this hour each passenger is furnished with a candle, and requested to
get up; and at a quarter to three the _muchacha_ (chambermaid)
reappears, bearing in her hand a plate, on which, after rubbing his
eyes, the traveller may discover, if it be allowed so to speak, an
imperceptible cup, a _xicara_,--since, having the thing, they have a
name for it, which is of course untranslateable,--of excellent
chocolate, an _azucarillo_ (almost transparent sugar prepared for
instantaneous melting), a glass of water, and a piece of bread. After
partaking of this agreeable refreshment, you have just time left to pay
your bill, fold up your passport, which during the night has remained in
the hands of the police, and to take your seat in the Diligence.

The towns of the Basque provinces appear not to have been much
maltreated during the Carlist war; not so the villages, most of which
present a melancholy aspect of ruin and desolation. The churches, built
so as to appear more like keeps of castles, have mostly withstood the
shock. The destruction was oftener the result of burning than of
artillery. The lover of the picturesque offers his silent gratitude to
the combatants on both sides, for sparing, although unintentionally,
some of the most charming objects of all Spain.

Among the most striking of these is Hernani. It is composed of one
street, of the exact required width for the passage of an ordinary
vehicle. This street is a perfect specimen of picturesque originality.
The old façades are mostly emblazoned with the bearings of their ancient
proprietors, sculptured in high relief. On entering the place, the
effect is that of a deep twilight after the broad blaze of the sunny
mountains. This is caused by the almost flat roofs, which advance
considerably beyond the fronts of the houses, and nearly meet in the
centre of the street: the roof of each house is either higher or lower,
or more or less projecting, than its neighbour; and all are supported by
carved woodwork, black from age. The street terminates on the brow of a
hill, and widens at the end, so as to form a small square, one
retreating side of which is occupied by the front of a church covered
with old sculpture; and the diligence, preceded by its long team of
tinkling mules, disappears through the arched gateway of a Gothic
castle.

In this part of Spain one does not hear the sounds of the guitar; these
commence further on. On Sundays and holydays, the fair of Tolosa, and of
the other Basque towns, flourish their castagnettes to the less romantic
whinings of the violin; but, in traversing the country, the ear is
continually met by a sound less musical, although no less national, than
that of the guitar--a sort of piercing and loud complaint, comparable to
nothing but the screams of those who have "relinquished hope" at Dante's
grim gateway.

These unearthly accents assail the ear of the traveller long before he
can perceive the object whence they proceed; but, becoming louder and
louder, there will issue from a narrow road, or rather ravine, a
diminutive cart, shut in between two small round tables for wheels.
Their voice proceeds from their junction with the axle, by a
contrivance, the nature of which I did not examine closely enough to
describe. A French tourist expresses much disgust at this custom, which
he attributes to the barbarous state of his neighbours, and their
ignorance of mechanical art; it is, however, much more probable that the
explanation given by the native population is the correct one. According
to this, the wheels are so constructed for the useful purpose of
forewarning all other drivers of the approach of a cart. The utility of
some such invention is evident. The mountain roads are cut to a depth
often of several yards, sometimes scores of yards, (being probably
dried-up beds of streams,) and frequently for a distance of some
furlongs admit of the passage of no more than one of these carts at a
time, notwithstanding their being extremely narrow. The driver,
forewarned at a considerable distance by a sound he cannot mistake,
seeks a wide spot, and there awaits the meeting.

You need not be told that human experience analysed resolves itself into
a series of disappointments. I beg you to ask yourself, or any of your
acquaintances, whether any person, thing, or event ever turned out to be
exactly, or nearly, such as was expected he, she, or it would be.
According to the disposition of each individual, these component parts
of experience become the bane or the charm of his life.

This truth may be made, by powerful resolve, the permanent companion of
your reflections, so as to render the expectation of disappointment
stronger than any other expectation. What then? If you know the expected
result will undergo a metamorphosis before it becomes experience, you
will not be disappointed. Only try. For instance,--every one knows the
Spanish character by heart; it is the burden of all literary
productions, which, from the commencement of time, have treated of that
country. A Carlist officer, therefore,--the hopeless martyr in the
Apostolic, aristocratic cause of divine right; the high-souled being,
rushing into the daily, deadly struggle, supported, instead of pay and
solid rations, by his fidelity to his persecuted king;--such a character
is easily figured. The theory of disappointments must here be at fault.
He is a true Spaniard; grave, reserved, dignified. His lofty presence
must impress every assembly with a certain degree of respectful awe.--I
mounted the _coupé_, or _berlina_, of the Diligence, to leave Tolosa,
with a good-looking, fair, well-fed native, with a long falling auburn
moustache. We commenced by bandying civilities as to which should hold
the door while the other ascended. No sooner were we seated than my
companion inquired whether I was military; adding, that he was a Carlist
captain of cavalry returning from a six months' emigration.

Notwithstanding the complete polish of his manners in addressing me, it
was evident he enjoyed an uncommon exuberance of spirits, even more than
the occasion could call for from the most ardent lover of his country;
and I at first concluded he must have taken the earliest opportunity (it
being four o'clock in the morning) of renewing his long-interrupted
acquaintance with the flask of _aguardiente_: but that this was not the
case was evident afterwards, from the duration of his tremendous
happiness. During the first three or four hours, his tongue gave itself
not an instant's repose. Every incident was a subject of merriment, and,
when tired of talking to me, he would open the front-window and address
the _mayoral_; then roar to the postilion, ten mules ahead; then swear
at the _zagal_ running along the road, or toss his cigar-stump at the
head of some wayfaring peasant-girl.

Sometimes, all his vocabulary being exhausted, he contented himself with
a loud laugh, long continued; then he would suddenly fall asleep, and,
after bobbing his head for five or six minutes, awake in a convulsion of
laughter, as though his dream was too merry for sleep. Whatever he said
was invariably preceded by two or three oaths, and terminated in the
same manner. The Spanish (perhaps, in this respect, the richest European
language) hardly sufficed for his supply. He therefore selected some of
the more picturesque specimens for more frequent repetition. These, in
default of topics of conversation, sometimes served instead of a fit of
laughter or a nap: and once or twice he hastily lowered the window, and
gave vent to a string of about twenty oaths at the highest pitch of his
lungs; then shut it deliberately, and remained silent for a minute.
During dinner he cut a whole cheese into lumps, with which he stuffed an
unlucky lap-dog, heedless of the entreaties of two fair
fellow-travellers, proprietors of the condemned quadruped. This was a
Carlist warrior!

The inhabitants of the Basque provinces are a fine race, and taller than
the rest of the Spaniards. The men possess the hardy and robust
appearance common to mountaineers, and the symmetry of form which is
almost universal in Spain, although the difference of race is easily
perceptible. The women are decidedly handsome, although they also are
anything but Spanish-looking; and their beauty is often enhanced by an
erect and dignified air, not usually belonging to peasants, (for I am
only speaking of the lower orders,) and attributable principally to a
very unpeasant-like planting of the head on the neck and shoulders. I
saw several village girls whom nothing but their dress would prevent
from being mistaken for German or English ladies of rank, being moreover
universally blondes. On quitting Vitoria, you leave behind you the
mountains and the pretty faces.

For us, however, the latter were not entirely lost. There were two in
the Diligence, belonging to the daughters of a Grandee of the first
class, Count de P. These youthful señoritas had taken the opportunity,
rendered particularly well-timed by the revolutions and disorders of
their country, of passing three years in Paris, which they employed in
completing their education, and seeing the wonders of that town,
_soi-disant_ the most civilized in the world; which probably it would
have been, had the old _régime_ not been overthrown. They were now
returning to Madrid, furnished with all the new ideas, and the various
useful and useless accomplishments they had acquired.

Every one whose lot it may have been to undertake a journey of several
days in a Diligence,--that is, in one and the same,--and who
consequently recollects that trembling and anxious moment during which
he has passed in review the various members of the society of which he
is to be, _nolens volens_, a member; and the feverish interest which
directed his glance of rapid scrutiny towards those in particular of the
said members with whom he was to be exposed to more immediate contact,
and at the mercy of whose birth and education, habits, opinions,
prejudices, qualities, and propensities, his happiness and comfort were
to be placed during so large and uninterrupted a period of his
existence,--will comprehend my gratitude to these fair _émigrées_, whose
lively conversation shortened the length of each day, adding to the
charms of the magnificent scenery by the opportunity they afforded of a
congenial interchange of impressions. Although we did not occupy the
same compartment of the carriage, their party requiring the entire
interior and _rotonde_, we always renewed acquaintance when a prolonged
ascent afforded an opportunity of liberating our limbs from their
confinement.

The two daily repasts also would have offered no charm, save that of the
Basque _cuisine_,--which, although cleanly and solid, is not perfectly
_cordon bleu_,--but for the entertaining conversation of my fair
fellow-travellers, who had treasured up in their memory the best sayings
and doings of Arnal, and the other Listons and Yateses of the French
capital, which, seasoned with a slight Spanish accent, were
indescribably _piquants_ and original. My regret was sincere on our
respective routes diverging at Burgos; for they proceeded by the direct
line over the Somo sierra to Madrid, while I take the longer road by the
Guadarramas, in order to visit Valladolid. I shall not consequently make
acquaintance with the northern approach to Madrid, unless I return
thither a second time; as to that of my fellow-travellers, I should be
too fortunate were it to be renewed during my short stay in their
capital.




LETTER IV.

ARRIVAL AT BURGOS. CATHEDRAL.


Burgos.

The chain of the Lower Pyrenees, after the ascent from the French side,
and a two days' journey of alternate mountain and valley, terminates on
the Spanish side at almost its highest level. A gentle descent leads to
the plain of Vitoria; and, after leaving behind the fresh-looking,
well-farmed environs of that town, there remains a rather monotonous
day's journey across the bare plains of Castile, only varied by the
passage through a gorge of about a mile in extent, called the Pass of
Pancorbo, throughout which the road is flanked on either side by a
perpendicular rock of from six to eight hundred feet elevation. The
ancient capital of Castile is visible from a considerable distance, when
approached in this direction; being easily recognised by the spires of
its cathedral, and by the citadel placed on an eminence, which forms a
link of a chain of hills crossing the route at this spot.

The extent of Burgos bears a very inadequate proportion to the idea
formed of it by strangers, derived from its former importance and
renown. It is composed of five or six narrow streets, winding round the
back of an irregularly shaped colonnaded plaza. The whole occupies a
narrow space, comprised between the river Arlançon, and the almost
circular hill of scarcely a mile in circumference, (on which stands the
citadel) and covers altogether about double the extent of Windsor
Castle.

The city has received a sort of modern facing, consisting of a row of
regularly built white houses, which turn their backs to the Plaza, and
front the river; uniting at one extremity with an ancient gateway,
which, facing the principal bridge, must originally have stood slightly
in advance of the town, to which it formed a very characteristic
entrance. It is a quadrangular edifice, pierced with a low semicircular
arch. The arch is flanked on the river front by small circular turrets,
and surmounted by seven niches, containing statues of magistrates,
kings, and heroes; while over these, in a centre niche, stands a
semicolossal statue of the Virgin, from which the monument derives its
title of "Arco de Santa Maria." Another arch, but totally simple,
situated at the other extremity of the new buildings, faces another
bridge; and this, with that of Santa Maria, and a third, placed halfway
between them, leading to the Plaza, form the three entrances to the city
on the river side.

[Illustration: ARCO DE SANTA MARIA.]

The dimensions of this, and many other Spanish towns, must not be
adopted as a base for estimating their amount of population. Irun, at
the frontier of France, stands on a little hill, the surface of which
would scarcely suffice for a country-house, with its surrounding
offices and gardens: it contains, nevertheless, four or five thousand
inhabitants, and comprises a good-sized market-place and handsome
town-hall, besides several streets. Nor does this close packing render
the Spanish towns less healthy than our straggling cities, planned with
a view to circulation and purity of atmosphere, although the difference
of climate would seem to recommend to each of the two countries the
system pursued by the other. The humidity of the atmosphere in England
would be the principal obstacle to cleanliness and salubrity, had the
towns a more compact mode of construction; whilst in Spain, on the
contrary, this system is advantageous as a protection against the
excessive power of the summer sun, which would render our wide
streets--bordered by houses too low to afford complete shade--not only
almost impassable, but uninhabitable.

The Plaza of Burgos (entitled "de la Constitucion," or "de Isabel II.,"
or "del Duque de la Victoria," or otherwise, according to the government
of the day,) has always been the resort of commerce. The projecting
first-floors being supported by square pillars, a sort of bazaar is
formed under them, which includes all the shop population of the city,
and forms an agreeable lounge during wet or too sunny weather.
Throughout the remainder of the town, with the exception of the modern
row of buildings above mentioned, almost all the houses are entered
through Gothic doorways, surmounted by armorial bearings sculptured in
stone, which, together with their ornamental inner courts and
staircases, testify to their having sheltered the chivalry of Old
Castile. The Cathedral, although by no means large, appears to fill half
the town; and considering that, in addition to its conspicuous and
inviting aspect, it is the principal remaining monument of the ancient
wealth and grandeur of the province, and one of the most beautiful
edifices in Europe, I will lose no time in giving you a description of
it.

This edifice, or at least the greater portion of it, dates from the
thirteenth century. The first stone was laid by Saint Ferdinand, on the
20th of July 1221. Ferdinand had just been proclaimed king by his mother
Doña Berenguela, who had invested him with his sword at the royal
convent of the Huelgas, about a mile distant from Burgos. Don Mauricio,
Bishop of Burgos, blessed the armour as the youthful king girded it,
and, three days subsequently to the ceremony, he united him to the
Princess Beatrice, in the church of the same convent. This bishop
assisted in laying the first stone of the cathedral, and presided over
the construction of the entire body of the building, including half of
the two principal towers.

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE CHOIR.]

His tomb may be seen at the back of the Choir. From the date of the
building its style may at once be recognised, allowing for a difference
which existed between England and the Continent, the latter being
somewhat in advance. The original edifice must have been a very perfect
and admirable specimen of the pointed architecture of its time in all
its purity. As it is, unfortunately, (as the antiquary would say, and, I
should add, the mere man of taste, were it not that tastes are various,
and that the proverb says they are all in nature,) the centre of the
building, forming the intersection of the transept and nave, owing to
some defect in the original construction, fell in just at the period
during which regular architecture began to waver, and the style called
in France the "Renaissance" was making its appearance. An architect of
talent, Felipe de Borgoña, hurried from Toledo, where he was employed in
carving the stalls of the choir, to furnish a plan for the centre tower.
He, however, only carried the work to half the height of the four
cylindrical piers which support it. He was followed by several others
before the termination of the work; and Juan de Herrera, the architect
of the Escorial, is said to have completed it. In this design are
displayed infinite talent and imagination; but the artist could not
alter the taste of the age. It is more than probable that he would have
kept to the pure style of his model, but for the prevailing fashion of
his time. Taken by itself, the tower is, both externally and internally,
admirable, from the elegance of its form, and the richness of its
details; but it jars with the rest of the building.

Placing this tower in the background, we will now repair to the west
front. Here nothing is required to be added, or taken away, to afford
the eye a feast as perfect as grace, symmetry, grandeur, and lightness,
all combined, are capable of producing. Nothing can exceed the beauty of
this front taken as a whole. You have probably seen an excellent view of
it in one of Roberts's annuals. The artists of Burgos complain of an
alteration, made some fifty years back by the local ecclesiastical
authorities, nobody knows for what reason. They caused a magnificent
portal to be removed, to make way for a very simple one, totally
destitute of the usual sculptured depth of arch within arch, and of the
profusion of statuary, which are said to have adorned the original
entrance. This, however, has not produced a bad result in the view of
the whole front. Commencing by solidity and simplicity at its base, the
pile only becomes ornamental at the first story, where rows of small
trefoil arches are carved round the buttresses; while in the
intermediate spaces are an oriel window in an ornamental arch, and two
narrow double arches. The third compartment, where the towers first rise
above the body of the church, offers a still richer display of ornament.
The two towers are here connected by a screen, which masks the roof,
raising the apparent body of the façade an additional story. This
screen is very beautiful, being composed of two ogival windows in the
richest style, with eight statues occupying the intervals of their lower
mullions. A fourth story, equally rich, terminates the towers, on the
summits of which are placed the two spires.

These are all that can be wished for the completion of such a whole.
They are, I imagine, not only unmatched, but unapproached by any others,
in symmetry, lightness, and beauty of design. The spire of Strasburg is
the only one I am acquainted with that may be allowed to enter into the
comparison. It is much larger, placed at nearly double the elevation,
and looks as light as one of these; but the symmetry of its outline is
defective, being uneven, and producing the effect of steps. And then it
is alone, and the absence of a companion gives the façade an unfinished
appearance. For these reasons I prefer the spires of Burgos. Their form
is hexagonal; they are entirely hollow, and unsupported internally. The
six sides are carved _à jour_, the design forming nine horizontal
divisions, each division presenting a different ornament on each of its
six sides. At the termination of these divisions, each pyramid is
surrounded near the summit by a projecting gallery with balustrades.
These appear to bind and keep together each airy fabric, which,
everywhere transparent, looks as though it required some such
restraint, to prevent its being instantaneously scattered by the winds.

On examining the interior of one of these spires, it is a subject of
surprise that they could have been so constructed as to be durable.
Instead of walls, you are surrounded by a succession of little
balustrades, one over the other, converging towards the summit. The
space enclosed is exposed to all the winds, and the thickness of the
stones so slight as to have required their being bound together with
iron cramps. At a distance of a mile these spires appear as transparent
as nets.

On entering the church by the western doors, the view is interrupted, as
is usual in Spain, by a screen, which, crossing the principal nave at
the third or fourth pillar, forms the western limit of the choir; the
eastern boundary being the west side of the transept, where there is an
iron railing. The space between the opposite side of the transept and
the apse is the _capilla mayor_ (chief chapel), in which is placed the
high altar. There are two lower lateral naves, from east to west, and
beyond them a series of chapels. The transept has no lateral naves. Some
of the chapels are richly ornamented. The first or westernmost, on the
north side, in particular, would be in itself a magnificent church. It
is called the "Chapel of Santa Tecla." Its dimensions are ninety-six
feet in length, by sixty-three in width, and sixty high. The ceiling,
and different altars, are covered with a dazzling profusion of gilded
sculpture. The ceiling, in particular, is entirely hidden beneath the
innumerable figures and ornaments of every sort of form, although of
questionable taste, which the ravings of the extravagant style, called
in Spain "Churriguesco" (after the architect who brought it into
fashion), could invent.

The next chapel--that of Santa Ana--is not so large, but designed in far
better taste. It is Gothic, and dates from the fifteenth century. Here
are some beautiful tombs, particularly that of the founder of the
chapel. But the most attractive object is a picture, placed at an
elevation which renders difficult the appreciation of its merits without
the aid of a glass,--a Holy Family, by Andrea del Sarto. It is an
admirable picture; possessing all the grace and simplicity, combined
with the fineness of execution, of that artist. The chapel immediately
opposite (on the south side) contains some handsome tombs, and another
picture, representing the Virgin, attributed by the cicerone of the
place to Michael Angelo. We next arrive at the newer part, or centre of
the building, where four cylindrical piers of about twelve feet
diameter, with octagonal bases, form a quadrangle, and support the
centre tower, designed by Felipe de Borgoña. These pillars are
connected with each other by magnificent wrought brass railings, which
give entrance respectively, westward to the choir,--on the east to the
sanctuary, or capilla mayor,--and north and south to the two ends of the
transept. Above is seen the interior of the tower, covered with a
profusion of ornament, but discordant with every other object within
view.

[Illustration: _W.F. Starling, sc._

TRANSEPT OF THE CATHEDRAL, BURGOS.]

The high altar at the back of the great chapel is also the work of
Herrera. It is composed of a series of rows of saints and apostles,
superposed one over the other, until they reach the roof. All are placed
in niches adorned with gilding, of which only partial traces remain. The
material of the whole is wood. Returning to either side-nave, a few
smaller chapels on the outside, and opposite them the railings of the
sanctuary, conduct us to the back of the high altar, opposite which is
the eastern chapel, called "of the Duke de Frias," or "Capilla del
Condestable."

[Illustration: SCULPTURE IN THE APSE.]

All this part of the edifice--I mean, from the transept eastward--is
admirable, both with regard to detail and to general effect. The pillars
are carved all round into niches, containing statues or groups; and the
intervals between the six last, turning round the apse, are occupied by
excellent designs, sculptured in a hard white stone. The subjects are,
the Agony in the Garden, Jesus bearing the Cross, the Crucifixion, the
Resurrection, and the Ascension. The centre piece, representing the
Crucifixion, is the most striking. The upper part contains the three
sufferers in front; and in the background a variety of buildings, trees,
and other smaller objects, supposed to be at a great distance. In the
foreground of the lower part are seen the officers and soldiers employed
in the execution; a group of females, with St. John supporting the
Virgin, and a few spectators. The costumes, the expression, the symmetry
of the figures, all contribute to the excellence of this piece of
sculpture. It would be difficult to surpass the exquisite grace
displayed in the attitudes, and flow of the drapery, of the female
group; and the Herculean limbs of the right-hand robber, as he writhes
in his torments, and seems ready to snap the cords which retain his feet
and arms,--the figure projecting in its entire contour from the surface
of the background,--present an admirable model of corporeal expression
and anatomical detail.

In clearing the space to make room for these sculptures, the artist had
to remove the tomb of a bishop, whose career, if the ancient _chronique_
is to be depended on, must have been rather singular. The information,
it must be owned, bears the appearance of having been transmitted by
some contemporary annalist, whose impartiality may have perhaps been
biassed by some of the numerous incitements which operate upon
courtiers.

Don Pedro Fernandez de Frias, Cardinal of Spain, Bishop of Osma and
Cuenca, was, it is affirmed, of low parentage, of base and licentious
habits of life, and of a covetous and niggardly disposition. These
defects, however, by no means diminished the high favour he enjoyed at
the successive courts of Henry the Third and Juan the Second. The Bishop
of Segovia, Don Juan de Tordesillas, happened by an unlucky coincidence
to visit Burgos during his residence there. The characters of the two
prelates were not of a nature to harmonise in the smallest degree, and,
being thrown necessarily much in each other's way, they gave loose
occasionally to expressions more than bordering on the irreverent. It
was on one of these occasions, that, the eloquence of the Cardinal
Bishop here interred being at default, a lacquey of his followers came
to his assistance, and being provided with a _palo_, or staff, inflicted
on the rival dignitary certain arguments _ad humeros_--in fact, gave the
Bishop of Segovia a severe drubbing. The Cardinal was on this occasion
compelled to retire to Italy.

Turning our backs to the centre piece of sculpture last described, we
enter the Capilla del Condestable through a superb bronze railing. In
these railings the Cathedral of Burgos rivals that of Seville,
compensating by number for the superior size and height of those
contained in the latter church. That of the chapel we are now entering
entirely fills the entrance arch, a height of about forty feet; the
helmet of a mounted knight in full armour, intended to represent St.
Andrew, which crowns its summit, nearly touching the keystone of the
arch. This chapel must be noticed in detail. Occupying at the extremity
of the church a position answering to that of Henry the Seventh's
Chapel at Westminster Abbey, it forms a tower of itself, which on the
outside harmonises with peculiar felicity with the three others, and
contributes to the apparent grandeur and real beauty of the exterior
view. The interior is magnificent, although its plan and style, being
entirely different from those of Henry the Seventh's Chapel, prevent the
comparison from going further. Its form is octagonal, measuring about
fifty feet in diameter, by rather more than a hundred in height. Its
style florid Gothic of the fourteenth century. The effect of its first
view is enhanced by its being filled, unlike the rest of the church,
with a blaze of light introduced through two rows of windows in the
upper part.

Two of the sides are furnished with recesses, which form lesser chapels,
and in one of which there is a fine organ. Between the centre of the
pavement and the principal altar, a large square block of mixed marble
covers the remains of the founders of the chapel, and bears on its
surface their recumbent figures executed in great perfection.[2] This
is the finest tomb in the cathedral. The embroidery of the cushions, the
ornaments on the count's armour, the gloves of the countess, are among
the details which merit particular notice amidst the beautiful execution
of the whole. The high altar of this chapel does not accord with the
general effect, being designed in the style of the _renascimiento_. In
the centre of it is nevertheless fixed a treasure that would compensate
for worse defects. A small circular medallion represents the Virgin and
Child, in an attitude very similar to that of the Madonna della
Seggiola, executed on porphyry. This delicious little work, of about
nine inches in diameter, forms the centre of attraction, and is the most
precious ornament of the chapel. On the right hand, near the altar, a
small doorway admits to the sacristy.

This contains several relics of the founders. A small portable altar of
ivory, forming the base of a crucifix of about eighteen inches in
height, is an exquisite model of delicate workmanship. Here also has
been treasured up a picture, behind a glass, and in a sort of wooden
case; a bequest likewise of the founders. Unfortunately they neglected
to impart the name of its author. The nebulous sort of uncertainty thus
made to surround this relic has magnified its merits, which might
otherwise perhaps not have claimed particular notice, to the most
colossal dimensions. They scarcely at last know what to say of it. At
the period of my first visit to Burgos, it was a Leonardo da Vinci; but,
after a lapse of two years, the same sacristan informed me that it was
uncertain whether the painting was executed by Raffaelle or Leonardo,
although it was generally supposed to be by Raffaelle; and a notice,
published since, gives the authority of an anonymous connaisseur, who
asserts it to be far superior to Raffaelle's "Perle." It is now
consequently decided that it cannot be a Leonardo, and is scarcely bad
enough for a Raffaelle.

Without venturing _tantas componere lites_, I may be allowed to give my
impression, on an inspection as complete as the studied darkness of the
apartment, added to the glass and wooden case, would permit. It is a
half-figure of the Magdalene. The execution is very elaborate and highly
finished, but there are evident defects in the drawing. In colouring and
manner it certainly reminds you of da Vinci--of one of whose works it
may probably be a copy; but, whatever it is, it is easy to discover that
it is _not_ a Raffaelle.

This chapel does not occupy the precise centre of the apse. A line drawn
from the middle of the western door through the nave would divide it
into two unequal parts, passing at a distance of nearly two yards from
its centre. An examination of the ground externally gives no clue to the
cause of this irregularity, by which the external symmetry of the
edifice is rendered imperfect, although in an almost imperceptible
degree; it must therefore be accounted for by the situation of the
adjoining parochial chapel, of more ancient construction, with which it
was not allowable to interfere, and by the unwillingness of the founder
to diminish the scale on which his chapel was planned.

Before we leave the Chapel del Condestable, one of its ceremonies
deserves particular mention. I allude to the _missa de los carneros_
(sheep-mass). At early mass on All Souls day, a feast celebrated in this
chapel with extraordinary pomp, six sheep are introduced, and made to
stand on a large block of unpolished marble, which has been left lying
close to the tombs, almost in the centre of the chapel; near the six
sheep are placed as many inflated skins of pigs, resembling those
usually filled with the wine of the country; to these is added the
quantity of bread produced from four bushels of wheat: and all remain in
view during the performance of high mass. At the conclusion of the final
response, the sheep are removed from their pedestal, and make for the
chapel-gates, through which they issue; and urged by the voice of their
driver, the peculiar shrill whistle of Spanish shepherds, and by the
more material argument of the staff, proceed down the entire length of
the cathedral to the music of the aforesaid whistle, accompanied by
their own bleatings and bells, until they vanish through the great
western portal.

Returning to the transepts, we find two objects worthy of notice. The
cathedral having been erected on uneven ground, rising rapidly from
south to north, the entrance to the north transept opens at an elevation
of nearly thirty feet from the pavement. To reach this door there is an
ornamental staircase, of a sort of white stone, richly carved in the
_renaissance_ style. This door is never open, a circumstance which
causes no inconvenience; the steps being so steep as to render them less
useful than ornamental, as long as any other exit exists.

A beautifully carved old door, of a wood become perfectly black,
although not so originally, gives access to the cloister from the east
side of the south transept. The interior of the arch which surmounts it
is filled with sculpture. A plain moulding runs round the top, at the
left-hand commencement of which is carved a head of the natural size,
clothed in a cowl.

[Illustration: HEAD OF SAINT FRANCIS.][3]

The attention is instantly rivetted by this head: it is not merely a
masterpiece of execution. Added to the exquisite beauty and delicate
moulding of the upper part of the face, the artist has succeeded in
giving to the mouth an almost superhuman expression. This feature, in
spite of a profusion of hair which almost covers it, lives and speaks. A
smile, in which a barely perceptible but irresistible and, as it were,
innate bitterness of satire and disdain modifies a wish of benevolence,
unites with the piercing expression of the eyes in lighting up the stone
with a degree of intellect which I had thought beyond the reach of
sculpture until I saw this head. Tradition asserts it to be a portrait
of Saint Francis, who was at Burgos at the period of the completion of
the cathedral; and who, being in the habit of examining the progress of
the works, afforded unconsciously a study to the sculptor.

The two sacristies are entered from the cloister: one of them contains
the portraits of all the bishops and archbishops of Burgos.
Communicating with this last is a room destined for the reception of
useless lumber and broken ornaments. Here the cicerone directs your
attention to an old half-rotten oaken chest, fixed against the wall at a
considerable height. This relic is the famous Coffre del Cid, the
self-same piece of furniture immortalised in the anecdote related of the
hero respecting the loan of money obtained on security of the supposed
treasure it enclosed. The lender of the money, satisfied by the weight
of the trunk, and the chivalrous honour of its proprietor, never saw
its contents until shown them by the latter on the repayment of the
loan: they were then discovered to consist of stones and fragments of
old iron.

One is disappointed on finding in this cathedral no more durable
_souvenir_ of the Cid than his rat-corroded wardrobe. His remains are
preserved in the chapel of the Ayuntamiento; thither we will
consequently bend our steps, not forgetting to enjoy, as we leave the
church, a long gaze at its elegant and symmetrical proportions. It may
be called an unique model of beauty of its particular sort, especially
when contemplated without being drawn into comparison with other
edifices of a different class. Catalani is said, on hearing Sontag's
performance, to have remarked that she was "la première de son genre,
mais que son genre n'était pas le premier." Could the cathedral of
Seville see that of Burgos, it would probably pronounce a similar
judgment on its smaller rival.

The profusion of ornament, the perfection of symmetry, the completeness
of finish, produce an instantaneous impression that nothing is wanting
in this charming edifice; but any one who should happen to have
previously seen that of Seville cannot, after the first moments of
enthusiasm, escape the comparison which forces itself on him, and which
is not in favour of this cathedral. It is elegant, but deficient in
grandeur; beautiful, but wanting in majesty. The stern and grand
simplicity of the one, thrown into the scales against the light, airy,
and diminutive, though graceful beauty of the other, recalls the
contrast drawn by Milton between our first parents; a contrast which,
applied to these churches, must be considered favourable to the more
majestic, however the balance of preference may turn in the poem.




LETTER V.

TOMB OF THE CID. CITADEL.


Burgos.

The Ayuntamiento, or Town-hall, presents one façade to the river, and
the other to the Plaza Mayor, being built over the archway which forms
the already mentioned entrance to the central portion of the city. The
building, like other town-halls, possesses an airy staircase, a large
public room, and a few other apartments, used for the various details of
administration; but nothing remarkable until you arrive at a handsomely
ornamented saloon, furnished with a canopied seat fronting a row of
arm-chairs. This is the room in which the municipal body hold their
juntas. It contains several portraits: two or three of kings, suspended
opposite to an equal number of queens; the two likenesses of the
celebrated judges Nuño Rasura and Lain Calvo, near which are seen the
simple square oaken chairs from within the angular and hard embrace of
which they administered the laws and government of Castile; a
full-length of Fernan Gonzalez; and lastly, one of the Cid.

Owing to the singularity of this last portrait, it is the first to
attract attention. The hero is represented in the most extraordinary of
attitudes: the head is thrown back, and the face turned towards one
side; the legs in a sort of studied posture; a drawn sword is in the
right hand, the point somewhat raised. The general expression is that of
a comic actor attempting an attitude of mock-heroic impertinence; and is
probably the result of an unattained object in the mind of the artist,
of producing that of fearless independence.

Beyond this apartment is the Chapel, a plain, not large room, containing
but two objects besides its very simple altar, with its, almost black,
silver candlesticks. Over the altar is a Conception, by Murillo; and, in
the centre of the chapel, a highly polished and neatly ornamented
funereal urn, composed of walnut-wood, contains the remains of the Cid:
the urn stands on a pedestal. On its two ends in letters of gold, are
inscriptions, stating its contents, and the date of its application to
its present purpose. I was told that the bones were contained in a
leaden box, but that a glass one was being prepared, which, on opening
the lid of the urn, would afford a view of the actual dust of the
warrior.

The remains of the Cid have only recently been conveyed to Burgos from
the monastery of San Pedro de Cardenas, about four miles distant. They
had been preserved there ever since his funeral, which took place in the
presence of King Alonzo the Sixth, and the two Kings, sons-in-law of the
hero, as soon as the body arrived from Valencia.

This monastic retreat, if dependence may be placed on the testimony of
the Cerberus of the Alcalde,--the cicerone (when duly propitiated) of
the municipal edifice,--did not turn out to be altogether a place of
repose to the warrior. According to this worthy, an amusing interpreter
of the popular local traditions, the exploits performed subsequently to
the hero's interment were such as almost to throw a shadow over those he
enacted during his mortal existence. One specimen will suffice. Some
twenty thousand individuals, including the monks of all the neighbouring
monasteries, were assembled in the church of San Pedro, and were
listening to a sermon on the occasion of the annual festival in honour
of the patron saint. Guided by curiosity, a Moor entered the church and
mingled with the crowd. After remaining during a short time motionless,
he approached a pillar, against which was suspended a portrait of the
Cid, for the purpose of examining the picture. Suddenly the figure was
seen by all present, whose testimony subsequently established the fact,
to grasp with the right hand the hilt of its sword, and to uncover a few
inches of the naked blade. The Moor instantly fell flat on the pavement,
and was found to be lifeless.

You would be surprised at the difficulty of forming even here, in the
midst of the scenes of his exploits, a definite idea of this Hercules of
the Middle Ages. For those who are satisfied with the orthodox histories
of the monks, he is without defects--a simple unsophisticated demi-god.
But there have been Mahometan historians of Spain. These are universally
acknowledged to have treated of all that concerned themselves with
complete accuracy and impartiality; and, when this happens, it should
seem to be the best criterion, in the absence of other proof, of their
faithful delineation of others' portraits.

However that may be, here is an instance which will give you an idea of
the various readings of the Cid's history.

Mariana relates, that an Arab expedition, headed by five kings (as he
terms them) of the adjoining states, being signalized as having passed
the mountains of Oca, and being occupied in committing depredations on
the Christian territory, Rodrigo suddenly took the field, recovered all
the booty, and made all five kings prisoners. All this being done by
himself and his own retainers. The kings he released after signing a
treaty, according to which they agreed to pay him an annual tribute. It
happened, that on the occasion of the first payment of this, Rodrigo was
at Zamora, whither he had accompanied the King of Castile; and he took
an opportunity of receiving the Arab messengers in presence of the
court. This was at least uncommon. The messengers addressed him by the
appellation of Syd (sir) as they handed over the money. Ferdinand,
delighted with the prowess of his courtier, expressed on this occasion
the desire that he should retain the title of Syd.

This anecdote undergoes, in the hands of the Arab writers, a curious
metamorphosis. According to them, the expression Syd was employed, not
by tributary kings, but by certain chiefs of that creed whose pay the
Catholic hero was receiving in return for aid lent against the
Christians of Aragon.

They attribute, moreover, to this mirror of chivalry, on the surrender
of Valencia, a conduct by no means heroic--not to say worthy a
highwayman. He accepted, as they relate, the pay of the Emyr of Valencia
to protect the city against the Almoravides, who at that period were
extending their conquests all over Moorish Spain. The Cid was repulsed,
and the town taken. After this defeat he shut himself up in a castle,
since called the Peña del Cid (Rock of the Cid), and there waited his
opportunity. On the departure of the conquerors from the city, in which
they left an insufficient garrison, he hastened down at the head of his
campeadores, and speedily retook Valencia.

The Cadi, Ahmed ben Djahhaf, left in command of the place, had, however,
only surrendered on faith of a capitulation couched in the most
favourable terms. It was even stipulated that he should retain his post
of governor; but no sooner was the Cid master of the place than he
caused the old man to be arrested and put to the torture, in order to
discover from him the situation of a treasure supposed to be concealed
in the Alcazar; after which, finding he would not speak, or had nothing
to reveal, he had him burned on the public place.

The Citadel of Burgos, at present an insignificant fortress, was
formerly a place of considerable importance, and commanded the
surrounding country; especially on the side on which the town--placed at
the foot of the eminence--lay beneath its immediate protection, and
could listen unscathed to the whizzing of the deadly missiles of war as
they passed over its roofs. During the various wars of which Castile has
been the theatre at different periods, this citadel has, from its
important position, occupied the main attention of contending armies;
and, from forming a constant _point-de-mire_ to attacking troops, has
finally been almost annihilated. The principal portion of the present
buildings is of a modern date, but, although garrisoned, the fortress
cannot be said to be restored.

The extent of the town was greater than at present, and included a
portion of the declivity which exists between the present houses and the
walls of the fortress. At the two extremities of the town-side of the
hill, immediately above the level of the highest-placed houses now
existing, two Arab gate-ways give access through the ancient town-walls,
which ascended the hill from the bottom. Between these there exists a
sort of flat natural terrace, above the town, and running along its
whole length, on to which some of the streets open. On this narrow level
stood formerly a part, probably the best part, of the city, which has
shared the fate of its protecting fortress; but, not being rebuilt, it
is now an empty space,--or would be so, but for the recent erection of a
cemetery, placed at about half the distance between the two extremities.

Before, however, the lapse of years had worn away the last surviving
recollections of these localities, some worshipper of by-gone glory
succeeded in discovering, on the now grass-grown space, the situations
once occupied by the respective abodes of the Cid and of Fernan
Gonzalez. On these spots monuments have been erected. That of Gonzalez
is a handsome arch, the piers supporting which are each faced with two
pillars of the Doric order on either side; above the cornice there is a
balustrade, over which four small obelisks correspond with the
respective pillars. The arch is surmounted by a sort of pedestal, on
which is carved an inscription, stating the object of the monument.
There is nothing on the top of the pedestal, which appears to have been
intended for the reception of a statue.

The monument in memory of the Cid is more simple. It consists of three
small pyramids in a row, supported on low bases or pedestals; that in
the centre higher than the other two, but not exceeding (inclusive of
the base) twenty feet from the ground. On the lower part of the centre
stone is carved an appropriate inscription, abounding in ellipsis, after
the manner usually adopted in Spain.

It is not surprising that these monuments, together with the memory of
the events brought about by the men in whose honour they have been
erected, should be fast hastening to a level with the desolation
immediately surrounding them. The present political circumstances of
Spain are not calculated to favour the retrospection of by-gone glories.
Scarcely is time allowed--so rapidly are executed the transmutations of
the modern political diorama--for examining the events, or even for
recovery from the shock, of each succeeding revolution; nor force
remaining to the exhausted organs of admiration or of horror, to be
exercised on almost forgotten acts, since those performed before the
eyes of the living generation have equalled or surpassed them in
violence and energy. The arch of Fernan Gonzalez, if not speedily
restored, (which is not to be expected,) runs the risk, from its
elevation and want of solidity, of being the first of the two monuments
to crumble to dust; a circumstance which, although not destitute of an
appearance of justice,--from the fact of the hero it records having
figured on an earlier page of Castilian annals,--would nevertheless
occasion regret to those who prefer history to romance, and who estimate
essential services rendered to the state, as superior to mere individual
_éclat_, however brilliant.

You will not probably object to the remainder of this letter being
monopolized by this founder of the independence of Castile; the less so,
from the circumstance of the near connection existing between his
parentage and that of the city we are visiting, and which owes to him so
much of its celebrity. Should you not be in a humour to be lectured on
history, you are at all events forewarned, and may wait for the next
despatch.

Unlike many of the principal towns of the Peninsula, which content
themselves with no more modern descent than from Nebuchadnezzar or
Hercules, Burgos modestly accepts a paternity within the domain of
probability. A German, Nuño Belchides, married, in the reign of Alonzo
the Great, King of Oviedo, a daughter of the second Count of Castile,
Don Diego Porcellos. This noble prevailed on his father-in-law to
assemble the inhabitants of the numerous villages dispersed over the
central part of the province, and to found a city, to which he gave the
German name of "city" with a Spanish termination. It was Don Fruela
III., King of Leon, whose acts of injustice and cruelty caused so
violent an exasperation, that the nobles of Castile, of whom there
existed several of a rank little inferior to that of the titular Count
of the province, threw up their allegiance, and selected two of their
own body, Nuño Rasura and Lain Calvo, to whom they intrusted the supreme
authority, investing them with the modest title of Judges, by way of a
check, lest at any future time they should be tempted, upon the strength
of a higher distinction, to make encroachments on the common liberties.

The first of the two judges, Nuño Rasura, was the son of the
above-mentioned Nuño Belchides and his wife, Sulla Bella (daughter of
Diego Porcellos), and grandfather of Fernan Gonzalez. His son Gonzalo
Nuño, Fernan's father, succeeded on his death to the dignity of Judge of
Castile, and became extremely popular, owing to his affability, and
winning urbanity of deportment in his public character. He established
an academy in his palace for the education of the sons of the nobles,
who were instructed under his own superintendence in all the
accomplishments which could render them distinguished in peace or in
war. The maternal grandfather of Fernan Gonzalez was Nuño Fernandez, one
of the Counts of Castile who were treacherously seized and put to death
by Don Ordoño, King of Leon. The young Count of Castile is described as
having been a model of elegance. To singular personal beauty he added an
unmatched proficiency in all the exercises then in vogue, principally in
arms and equitation. These accomplishments, being added to much
affability and good-nature, won him the affections of the young nobles,
who strove to imitate his perfections, while they enjoyed the
festivities of his palace.

It appears that, notwithstanding the rebellion, and appointment of
Judges, Castile had subsequently professed allegiance to the Kings of
Leon; for a second revolt was organized in the reign of Don Ramiro, at
the head of which we find Fernan Gonzalez. On this occasion, feeling
themselves too feeble to resist the royal troops, the rebels had
recourse to a Moorish chief, Aecipha. The King, however, speedily drove
the Moors across the frontier, and succeeded in capturing the principal
revolters. After a short period these were released, on the sole
condition of taking the oath of allegiance; and the peace was
subsequently sealed by the marriage of a daughter of Gonzalez with Don
Ordoño, eldest son of Ramiro, and heir to the kingdom.

The Count of Castile was, however, too powerful a vassal to continue
long on peaceable terms with a sovereign, an alliance with whose family
had more than ever smoothed the progressive ascent of his pretensions.
Soon after the accession of his son-in-law Don Ordoño, he entered into
an alliance against him with the King of Navarre. This declaration of
hostility was followed by the divorce of Fernan's daughter by the King,
who immediately entered into a second wedlock. The successor of this
monarch, Don Sancho, surnamed the Fat, was indebted for a large portion
of his misfortunes and vicissitudes to the hostility of the Count of
Castile. Don Ordoño, the pretender to his throne, son of Alonzo surnamed
the Monk, with the aid of Gonzalez, whose daughter Urraca, the
repudiated widow of the former sovereign, he married, took easy
possession of the kingdom, driving Don Sancho for shelter to the court
of his uncle the then King of Navarre. It is worth mentioning, that King
Sancho took the opportunity of his temporary expulsion from his states,
to visit the court of Abderahman at Cordova, and consult the Arab
physicians, whose reputation for skill in the removal of obesity had
extended over all Spain. History relates that the treatment they
employed was successful, and that Don Sancho, on reascending his throne,
had undergone so complete a reduction as to be destitute of all claims
to his previously acquired _sobriquet_.

All these events, and the intervals which separated them, fill a
considerable space of time; and the establishment of the exact dates
would be a very difficult, if not an impossible, undertaking. Various
wars were carried on during this time by Gonzalez, and alliances formed
and dissolved. Several more or less successful campaigns are recorded
against the Moors of Saragoza, and of other neighbouring states. The
alliance with Navarre had not been durable. In 959 Don Garcia, King of
that country, fought a battle with Fernan Gonzalez, by whom he was taken
prisoner, and detained in Burgos thirteen months. The conquest of the
independence of Castile is related in the following manner.

In the year 958, the Cortes of the kingdom were assembled at Leon,
whence the King forwarded a special invitation to the Count of Castile,
requiring his attendance, and that of the Grandees of the province, for
"deliberation on affairs of high importance to the state." Gonzalez,
although suspicious of the intentions of the sovereign, unable to devise
a suitable pretext for absenting himself, repaired to Leon, attended by
a considerable _cortége_ of nobles. The King went forth to receive him;
and it is related, that refusing to accept a present, offered by
Gonzalez, of a horse and a falcon, both of great value, a price was
agreed on; with the condition that, in case the King should not pay the
money on the day named in the agreement, for each successive day that
should intervene until the payment, the sum should be doubled. Nothing
extraordinary took place during the remainder of the visit; and the
Count, on his return to Burgos, married Doña Sancha, sister of the King
of Navarre.

It is probable that some treachery had been intended against Gonzalez,
similar to that put in execution on a like occasion previous to his
birth, when the Counts of Castile were seized and put to death in their
prison; for, not long after, a second invitation was accepted by the
Count, who was now received in a very different manner. On his kneeling
to kiss the King's hand, Don Sancho burst forth with a volley of
reproaches, and, repulsing him with fury, gave orders for his immediate
imprisonment. It is doubtful what fate was reserved for him by the
hatred of the Queen-mother, who had instigated the King to the act of
treachery, in liquidation of an ancient personal debt of vengeance of
her own, had not the Countess of Castile, Doña Sancha, undertaken his
liberation.

Upon receiving the news of her husband's imprisonment, she allowed a
short period to elapse, in order to mature her plan, and at the same
time lull suspicion of her intentions. She then repaired to Leon, on
pretext of a pilgrimage to Santiago, on the route to which place Leon is
situated. She was received by King Sancho with distinguished honours,
and obtained permission to visit her husband, and to pass a night in his
prison. The following morning, Gonzalez, taking advantage of early
twilight, passed the prison-doors in disguise of the Countess, and,
mounting a horse which was in readiness, escaped to Castile.

This exploit of Doña Sancha does not belong to the days of romance and
chivalry alone: it reminds us of the still more difficult task,
accomplished by the beautiful Winifred, Countess of Nithisdale, who,
eight centuries later, effected the escape of the rebel Earl, her
husband, from the Tower, in a precisely similar manner; thus rescuing
him from the tragic fate of his friends and fellow-prisoners, the Lords
Derwentwater and Kenmure.

Doña Sancha obtained her liberty without difficulty, being even
complimented by the King on her heroism, and provided with a brilliant
escort on her return to Castile. Gonzalez contented himself with
claiming the price agreed upon for the horse and falcon; and--the King
not seeming inclined to liquidate the debt, which, owing to the long
delay, amounted already to an enormous sum, or looking upon it as a
pretext for hostility, the absence of which would not prevent the Count
of Castile, in his then state of exasperation, from having recourse to
arms--passed the frontier of Leon at the head of an army, and, laying
waste the country, approached gradually nearer to the capital. At length
Don Sancho sent his treasurer to clear up the account, but it was found
that the debt exceeded the whole amount of the royal treasure; upon
which Gonzalez claimed and obtained, on condition of the withdrawal of
his troops, a formal definitive grant of Castile, without reservation,
to himself and his descendants.

Before we quit Burgos for its environs, one more edifice requires our
notice. It is a fountain, occupying the centre of the space which faces
the principal front of the cathedral. This little antique monument
charms, by the quaint symmetry of its design and proportions, and
perhaps even by the terribly mutilated state of the four fragments of
Cupids, which, riding on the necks of the same number of animals so
maltreated as to render impossible the discovery of their race, form
projecting angles, and support the basin on their shoulders. Four
mermaids, holding up their tails, so as not to interfere with the
operations of the Cupids, ornament the sides of the basin, which are
provided with small apertures for the escape of the water; the top being
covered by a flat circular stone, carved around its edge. This stone,--a
small, elegantly shaped pedestal, which surmounts it,--and the other
portions already described, are nearly black, probably from antiquity;
but on the pedestal stands a little marble virgin, as white as snow.
This antique figure harmonises by its mutilation with the rest, although
injured in a smaller degree; and at the same time adds to the charm of
the whole, by the contrast of its dazzling whiteness with the dark mass
on which it is supported. The whole is balanced on the capital of a
pillar, of a most original form, which appears immediately above the
surface of a sheet of water enclosed in a large octagonal basin.

[Illustration: FOUNTAIN OF SANTA MARIA.]




LETTER VI.

CARTUJA DE MIRAFLORES. CONVENT OF LAS HUELGAS.


Burgos.

The Chartreuse of Miraflores, situated to the east of the city, half-way
in the direction of the above-mentioned monastery of San Pedro de
Cardeñas, crowns the brow of an eminence, which, clothed with woods
towards its base, slopes gradually until it reaches the river. This spot
is the most picturesque to be found in the environs of Burgos,--a region
little favoured in that respect. The view, extending right and left,
follows the course of the river, until it is bounded on the west by the
town, and on the east by a chain of mountains, a branch of the Sierra of
Oca. Henry the Third, grandfather of Isabel the Catholic, made choice of
this position for the erection of a palace; the only remnant of it now
existing is the church, which has since become the inheritance of the
Carthusian monks, the successors of its royal founder.

The late revolution, after sparing the throne of Spain, displayed a
certain degree of logic, if not in all its acts, at least in sparing,
likewise, two or three of the religious establishments, under the
protection of which the principal royal mausoleums found shelter and
preservation. The great Chartreuse of Xeres contained probably no such
palladium, for it was among the first of the condemned: its lands and
buildings were confiscated; and its treasures of art, and all portable
riches, dispersed, as likewise its inhabitants, in the direction of all
the winds.

In England the name of Xeres is only generally known in connection with
one of the principal objects of necessity, which furnish the table of
the _gastronome_; but in Andalucia the name of Xeres de la Frontera
calls up ideas of a different sort. It is dear to the wanderer in Spain,
whose recollections love to repose on its picturesque position, its
sunny skies, its delicious fruits, its amiable and lively population,
and lastly on its once magnificent monastery, and the treasures of art
it contained. The Prior of that monastery has been removed to the
Cartuja of Burgos, where he presides over a community, reduced to four
monks, who subsist almost entirely on charity. This amiable and
gentleman-like individual, in whom the monk has in no degree injured
the man of the world,--although a large estate, abandoned for the
cloister, proved sufficiently the sincerity of his religious
professions,--had well deserved a better fate than to be torn in his old
age from his warm Andalucian retreat, and transplanted to the rudest
spot in the whole Peninsula, placed at an elevation of more than four
thousand feet above the level of the Atlantic, and visited up to the
middle of June by snow-storms. At the moment I am writing, this innocent
victim of reform is extended on a bed of sickness, having only recently
escaped with his life from an attack, during which he was given over.

This Cartuja possesses more than the historical reminiscences with which
it is connected, to attract the passing tourist. It owes its prolonged
existence to the possession of an admirable work of art,--the tomb of
Juan the Second and his Queen Isabel, which stands immediately in front
of the high altar of the church. This living mass of alabaster, the work
of Gil de Siloë, son of the celebrated Diego, presents in its general
plan the form of a star. It turns one of its points to the altar. Its
mass, or thickness from the ground to the surface, measures about six
feet; and this is consequently the height at which are laid the two
recumbent figures.

[Illustration: _N. A. Wells. deb._ W. I. Starling, "84"

INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH OF MIRAFLORES,

NEAR BURGOS.]

It is impossible to conceive a work more elaborate than the details of
the costumes of the King and Queen. The imitation of lace and
embroidery, the exquisite delicacy of the hands and features, the
infinitely minute carving of the pillows, the architectural railing by
which the two statues are separated, the groups of sporting lions and
dogs placed against the foot-boards, and the statues of the four
Evangelists, seated at the four points of the star which face the
cardinal points of the compass,--all these attract first the attention
as they occupy the surface; but they are nothing to the profusion of
ornament lavished on the sides. The chisel of the artist has followed
each retreating and advancing angle of the star, filling the innermost
recesses with life and movement. It would be endless to enter into a
detailed enumeration of all this. It is composed of lions and lionesses,
panthers, dogs,--crouching, lying, sitting, rampant, and standing; of
saints, male and female, and personifications of the cardinal virtues.
These figures are represented in every variety of posture,--some
standing on pedestals, and others seated on beautifully wrought
arm-chairs, but all enclosed respectively in the richest Gothic tracery,
and under cover of their respective niches. Were there no other object
of interest at Burgos, this tomb would well repay the traveller for a
halt of a few days, and a country walk.

At the opposite side of the town may be seen the royal convent of Las
Huelgas; but as the nuns reserve to themselves the greater part of the
church, including the royal tombs, which are said to be very numerous,
no one can penetrate to satisfy his curiosity. It is, however, so
celebrated an establishment, and of such easy access from the town, that
a sight of what portions of the buildings are accessible deserves the
effort of the two hundred yards' walk which separates it from the river
promenade. This Cistercian convent was founded towards the end of the
twelfth century by Alonzo the Eighth,--the same who won the famous
battle of the Navas de Tolosa. It occupies the site of the
pleasure-grounds of a royal retreat, as is indicated by the name itself.
In its origin it was destined for the reception, exclusively, of
princesses of the blood royal. It was consequently designed on a scale
of peculiar splendour. Of the original buildings, however, only
sufficient traces remain to confirm the records of history, but not to
convey an adequate idea of their magnificence. What with the
depredations of time, the vicissitudes of a situation in the midst of
provinces so given to contention, and repeated alterations, it has
evidently, as far as regards the portions to a view of which admission
can be obtained, yielded almost all claims to identity with its ancient
self.

The entire church, with the exception of a small portion partitioned off
at the extremity, and containing the high altar, is appropriated to the
nuns, and fitted up as a choir. It is very large; the length, of which
an estimate may be formed externally, appearing to measure nearly three
hundred feet. It is said this edifice contains the tomb of the founder,
surrounded by forty others of princesses. The entrance to the public
portion consists of a narrow vestibule, in which are several antique
tombs. They are of stone, covered with Gothic sculpture, and appear,
from the richness of their ornaments, to have belonged also to royalty.
They are stowed away, and half built into the wall, as if there had not
been room for their reception. The convent is said to contain handsome
cloisters, courts, chapter-hall, and other state apartments, all of a
construction long subsequent to its foundation. The whole is surrounded
by a complete circle of houses, occupied by its various dependants and
pensioners. These are enclosed from without by a lofty wall, and face
the centre edifice, from which they are separated by a series of large
open areas. Their appearance is that of a small town, surrounding a
cathedral and palace.

The convent of the Huelgas takes precedence of all others in Spain. The
abbess and her successors were invested by the sovereigns of Leon and
Castile with especial prerogatives, and with a sort of authority over
all convents within those kingdoms. Her possessions were immense, and
she enjoyed the sovereign sway over an extensive district, including
several convents, thirteen towns, and about fifty villages. In many
respects her jurisdiction resembles that of a bishop. The following is
the formula which heads her official acts:

"We, Doña ..., by the grace of God and of the Holy Apostolic See, Abbess
of the royal monastery of Las Huelgas near to the city of Burgos, order
of the Cister, habit of our father San Bernardo, Mistress, Superior,
Prelate, Mother, and lawful spiritual and temporal Administrator of the
said royal monastery, and its hospital called 'the King's Hospital,' and
of the convents, churches, and hermitages of its filiation, towns and
villages of its jurisdiction, lordship, and vassalage, in virtue of
Apostolic bulls and concessions, with all sorts of jurisdiction, proper,
almost episcopal, _nullius diocesis_, and with royal privileges, since
we exercise both jurisdictions, as is public and notorious," &c.

The hospital alluded to gives its name to a village, about a quarter of
a mile distant, called "Hospital del Rey." This village is still in a
sort of feudal dependance on the abbess, and is the only remaining
source of revenue to the convent, having been recently restored by a
decree of Queen Isabella; for the royal blood flowing in the veins of
the present abbess had not exempted her convent from the common
confiscation decreed by the revolution. The hospital, situated in the
centre of the village, is a handsome edifice. The whole place is
surrounded by a wall, similar to that which encloses the convent and its
immediate dependances, and the entrance presents a specimen of much
architectural beauty. It forms a small quadrangle, ornamented with an
elegant arcade, and balustrades of an original design.




LETTER VII.

ROUTE TO MADRID. MUSEO.


Toledo.

The route from Burgos to Madrid presents few objects of interest. The
country is dreary and little cultivated; indeed, much of it is incapable
of culture. For those who are unaccustomed to Spanish routes, there may,
indeed, be derived some amusement from the inns, of which some very
characteristic specimens lie in their way. The Diligence halts for the
night at the Venta de Juanilla, a solitary edifice situated at the foot
of the last or highest _étage_ of the Somo Sierra, in order to leave the
principal ascent for the cool of early dawn. The building is seen from a
considerable distance, and looks large; but is found, on nearer
approach, to be a straggling edifice of one story only.

It is a modern inn, and differs in some essential points from the
ancient Spanish _posada_,--perfect specimens of which are met with at
Briviesca and Burgos. In these the vestibule is at the same time a
cow-shed, sheepfold, stable, pigsty,--in fact, a spacious Noah's Ark, in
which are found specimens of all living animals, that is, of all sizes,
down to the most minute; but for the purification of which it would be
requisite that the entire flood should pass within, instead of on its
outside. The original ark, moreover, possessed the advantage of windows,
the absence of which causes no small embarrassment to those who have to
thread so promiscuous a congregation, in order to reach the staircase;
once at the summit of which, it must be allowed, one meets with
cleanliness, and a certain degree of comfort.

The Venta de Juanilla, on the Somo Sierra, is a newish, clean-looking
habitation, especially the interior, where one meets with an excellent
supper, and may feast the eyes on the sight of a printed card, hanging
on the wall of the dining-room, announcing that luxury of exotic
gastronomy--Champagne--at three crowns a bottle: none were bold enough
that evening to ask for a specimen.

There is less of the exotic in the bed-room arrangements; in fact, the
building appears to have been constructed by the Diligence proprietors
to meet the immediate necessity of the occasion. The Madrid road being
served by two Diligences, one, leaving the capital, meets at this point,
on its first night, the other, which approaches in the contrary
direction. In consequence of this arrangement, the edifice is provided
with exactly four dormitories,--two male, and two female.

Nor is this the result of an intention to diminish the numbers quartered
in each male or female apartment; on the contrary, two rooms would have
answered the purpose better than four, but for the inconvenience and
confusion which would have arisen from the denizens of the Diligence
destined to start at a later hour being aroused from their slumbers, and
perhaps induced to depart by mistake, at the signal for calling the
travellers belonging to the earlier conveyance,--the one starting at two
o'clock in the morning, and the other at three.

On the occasion of my _bivouaque_ in this curious establishment, an
English couple, recently married, happened to be among the number of my
fellow-sufferers; and the lady's report of the adventures of the female
dormitory of our Diligence afforded us sufficient amusement to enliven
the breakfast on the other side of the mountain. It appeared, that,
during the hustling of the males into their enclosure, a fond mother,
moved by Heaven knows what anxious apprehensions, had succeeded in
abstracting from the herd her son, a tender youth of fourteen. Whether
or not she expected to smuggle, without detection, this contraband
article into the female pen we could not determine. If she did, she
reckoned somewhat independently of her host; for on a fellow-traveller
entering in the dark, and groping about for a considerable time in
search of an unoccupied nest, a sudden exclamation aroused the fatigued
sleepers, followed by loud complaints against those who had admitted an
interloper to this holy of holies of feminine promiscuousness, to the
exclusion of one of its lawful occupants. The dispute ran high; but it
must be added to the already numerous proofs of the superior energy
proceeding from aroused maternal feelings, that the intruder was
maintained in his usurped resting-place by his determined parent,
notwithstanding the discontent naturally caused by such a proceeding.

We have now reached the centre of these provinces, the destinies of
which have offered to Europe so singular an example of political
vicissitude. It is an attractive occupation, in studying the history of
this country, to watch the progress of the state, the ancient capital of
which we have just visited,--a province which, from being probably the
rudest and poorest of the whole Peninsula, became the most influential,
the wealthiest, the focus of power, as it is geographically the centre
of Spain,--and to witness its constantly progressive advance, as it
gradually drew within the range of its influence all the surrounding
states; exemplifying the dogged perseverance of the Spanish character,
which, notwithstanding repeated defeat, undermined the Arab power by
imperceptible advances, and eventually ridded the Peninsula of its
long-established lords. It is interesting to thread the intricate
narrative of intermarriages, treaties, wars, alliances, and successions,
interspersed with deeds of heroic chivalry and of blackest treachery,
composing the annals of the different northern states of Spain; until at
length, the Christian domination having been borne onward by successive
advantages nearly to the extreme southern shores of the Peninsula, a
marriage unites the two principal kingdoms, and leads to the subjection
of all Spain, as at present, under one monarch.

It is still more attractive to repair subsequently to the country
itself; and from this central, pyramidal summit--elevated by the hand of
Nature to a higher level than the rest of the Peninsula; its bare and
rugged surface exposed to all the less genial influences of the
elements, and crowned by its modern capital, looking down in all
directions, like a feudal castle on the fairer and more fertile regions
subject to its dominion, and for the protection of which it is there
proudly situated,--to take a survey of this extraordinary country, view
the localities immortalized by the eventful passages of its history, and
muse on its still varying destinies.

Madrid has in fact already experienced threatening symptoms of the
insecurity of this feudal tenure, as it were, in virtue of which it
enjoys the supreme rank. Having no claim to superiority derived from its
commerce, the fertility of its territory, the facility of its means of
communication and intercourse with the other parts of the kingdom or
with foreign states,--nothing, in fact, but its commanding and central
position, and the comparatively recent choice made of it by the
sovereigns for a residence; it has seen itself rivalled, and at length
surpassed in wealth and enterprize, by Barcelona, and its right to be
continued as the seat of government questioned and attacked. Its fall is
probably imminent, should some remedy not be applied before the
intermittent revolutionary fever, which has taken possession of the
country, makes further advances, or puts on chronic symptoms; but its
fate will be shared by the power to which it owes its creation. No
residence in Europe bears a prouder and more monarchical aspect than
Madrid, nor is better suited for the abode of the feudal pomp and
etiquette of the most magnificent--in its day--of European courts: but
riding and country sports have crossed the Channel, and are
endeavouring to take root in France; fresco-painting has invaded
England; in Sicily marble porticoes have been painted to imitate red
bricks; and a Constitutional monarchy is being erected in Spain.
Spaniards are not imitators, and cannot change their nature, although
red bricks should become the materials of Italian _palazzi_, Frenchmen
ride after fox-hounds, and Englishmen be metamorphosed to Michael
Angelos. The Alcazar of Madrid, commanding from its windows thirty miles
of royal domains, including the Escorial and several other royal
residences, is not destined to become the abode of a monarch paid to
receive directions from a loquacious and corrupt house of deputies,--the
utmost result to be obtained from forcing on states a form of government
unsuited to their character. If the Spanish reigning family, after
having settled their quarrel with regard to the succession, (if ever
they do so,) are compelled to accept a (so-called) Constitutional form
of government, with their knowledge of the impossibility of its
successful operation, they will probably endeavour, in imitation of the
highly gifted sovereign of their neighbours, to stifle it, and to
administrate in spite of it; until, either wanting the talent and energy
necessary for the maintenance of this false position, or their subjects,
as may be expected, getting impatient at finding themselves mystified,
a total overthrow will terminate the experiment.

I am aware of the criticism to which this opinion would be exposed in
many quarters; I already hear the contemptuous upbraidings, similar to
those with which the "exquisite," exulting in an unexceptionable
wardrobe, lashes the culprit whose shoulders are guilty of a coat of the
previous year's fashion. We are told that the tendency of minds, the
progress of intellect, the spirit of the age,--all which, translated
into plain language, mean (if they mean anything) the fashion,--require
that nations should provide themselves each with a new Liberal
government; claiming, in consideration of the fashionable vogue and the
expensive nature of the article, its introduction (unlike other British
manufactures) duty-free. But it ought first to be established, whether
these larger interests of humanity are amenable to the sceptre of so
capricious a ruler as the fashion. It appears to me, that nations should
be allowed to adapt their government to their respective characters,
dispositions, habits of life, and traditions. All these are more
dependant than is supposed by those who possess not the habit of
reflection, on the race, the position, the soil and climate each has
received from nature, which, by the influence they have exercised on
their habits and dispositions, have fitted them each for a form of
constitution equally appropriate to no other people; since no two
nations are similarly circumstanced, not only in all these respects, but
even in any one of them.

What could be more Liberal than the monarchy of Spain up to the
accession of the Bourbon dynasty? the kings never reigning but by the
consent of their subjects, and on the condition of unvarying respect for
their privileges; but never, when once seated on the throne, checked and
embarrassed in carrying through the measures necessary for the
administration of the state. The monarch was a responsible but a free
monarch until these days, when an attempt is being made to deprive him
both of freedom of action and responsibility--almost of utility, and to
render him a tool in the hands of a constantly varying succession of
needy advocates or military _parvenus_, whom the chances of civil war or
the gift of declamation have placed in the way of disputing the
ministerial salaries, without having been able to furnish either their
hearts with the patriotism, or their heads with the capacity, requisite
for the useful and upright administration of the empire. In Spain, the
advocates of continual change, in most cases in which personal interest
is not their moving spring, hope to arrive ultimately at a republic.
Now, no one more than myself admires the theories of Constitutional
governments, of universal political power and of republicanism: the last
system would be the best of all, were it only for the equality it is to
establish. But how are men to be equalised by the manufacturers of a
government? How are the ignorant and uneducated to be furnished with
legislative capacity, or the poor or unprincipled armed against the
seductions of bribery? It is not, unfortunately, in any one's power to
accomplish these requisite preliminary operations; without the
performance of which, these plausible theories will ever lose their
credit when brought to the test of experiment. How is a republic to be
durable without the previous solution of the problem of the equalisation
of human capacities? In some countries it may be almost attained for a
time; in others, never put in motion for an instant. No one more than
myself abhors tyranny and despotism; but, after hearing and reading all
the charges laid at the door of Absolutism during the last quarter of a
century, I am at a loss to account for the still greater evils and
defects, existing in Constitutional states, having been overlooked in
the comparison. The subject is far less free in France than in the
absolute states of Germany: and other appropriate comparisons might be
made which would bring us still nearer home. I would ask the advocates
for putting in practice a republican form of government, and by way of
comparing the two extremes, whether all the harm the Emperors of Russia
have ever done, or are likely to do until the end of the
world,--according to whatever sect the date of that event be
calculated,--will not knock under to one week of the exploits of the
French republicans of the last century? And if we carry on the
observation to the consequences of that revolution, until we arrive at
the decimation of that fine country under the military despotism which
was necessarily its offspring, we shall not find my argument weakened.

I entreat your pardon for this political digression, which I am as happy
to terminate as yourself. I will only add, that, should the period be
arrived for the Spanish empire to undergo the lot of all human
things--decline and dissolution, it has no right to complain, having had
its day; but, should that moment be still distant, let us hope to see
that country, so highly favoured by Nature, once more prosperous under
the institutions which raised her to the highest level of power and
prosperity.

Meanwhile, the elements of discord still exist in a simmering state
close to the brim of the cauldron, and a mere spark will suffice at any
moment to make them bubble over. The inhabitants of Madrid are in
hourly expectation of this spark; and not without reason, if the
_on-dits_ which circulate there, and reach to the neighbouring towns,
are deserving of credit. Queen Christina, on her road from Paris to
resume virtually, if not nominally, the government, conceived the
imprudent idea of taking Rome in her way. It is said that she confessed
to the Pope, who, in the solemn exercise of his authority as
representative of the Deity, declared to her that Spain would never
regain tranquillity until the possessions of the clergy should be
restored to them.

Whatever else may have passed during the interview is not stated; but a
deep impression was produced on the conscience of the Queen, to which is
attributed the change in her appearance evident to those who may happen
to have seen her a few months since in Paris. This short space of time
has produced on her features the effect of years. She has lost her
_embonpoint_, and acquired in its place paleness and wrinkles. She is
firmly resolved to carry out the views of the Pope. Here, therefore, is
the difficulty. The leading members of her party are among those who
have profited largely by the change of proprietorship which these vast
possessions have undergone: being the framers or abettors of the decree,
they were placed among the nearest for the scramble. In the emptiness of
the national treasury, they consider these acquisitions their sole
reward for the trouble of conducting the revolution, and are prepared to
defend them like tigers.

When, therefore, Queen Christina proposed her plan[4] to Narvaez, she
met with a flat refusal. He replied, that such a decree would deluge the
country with blood. The following day he was advised to give in his
resignation. This he refused to do, and another interview took place.
The Queen-mother insisted on his acceptance of the embassy to France. He
replied, that he certainly would obey her Majesty's commands; but that,
in that case, she would not be surprised if he published the act of her
marriage with Muños, which was in his power.[5] This would compel
Christina to refund all the income she has received as widow of
Ferdinand the Seventh. The interview ended angrily; and, doubtless,
recalled to Christina's recollection the still higher presumption of the
man, who owed to her the exalted situation from which, on a former
occasion, he levelled his attack on her authority. I am not answerable
for the authenticity of these generally received reports; but they prove
the unsettled state of things, when the determined disposition of the
two opposite parties, and the nearly equal balance of their force, are
taken into consideration.

I was scarcely housed at Madrid, having only quitted the hotel the
previous day, when the news reached me of the death of one of the fair
and accomplished young Countesses--the companions of my journey from
Bayonne to Burgos. You would scarcely believe possible the regret this
intelligence occasioned me,--more particularly from the peculiar
circumstances of the occurrence. Her father had recently arrived from
France, and the house was filled for the celebration of her birthday;
but she herself was forbidden to join the dinner-party, being scarcely
recovered from a severe attack of small-pox. The father's weakness could
not deny her admission at dessert, and an ice. The following day she was
dead.

Acquaintances made on the high road advance far more rapidly than those
formed in the usual formal intercourse of society. I can account in no
other way for the tinge of melancholy thrown over the commencement of my
sojourn at Madrid by this event,--befalling a person whose society I had
only enjoyed during three days, and whom I scarcely expected to see
again.

The modern capital of Spain is an elegant and brilliant city, and a very
agreeable residence; but for the admirer of the picturesque, or the
tourist in search of historical _souvenirs_, it contains few objects of
attraction. The picture-gallery is, however, a splendid exception; and,
being the best in the world, compensates, as you may easily suppose, for
the deficiency peculiar to Madrid in monuments of architectural
interest.

To put an end to the surprise you will experience at the enumeration of
such a profusion of _chefs d'oeuvre_ of the great masters as is here
found, it is necessary to lose sight of the present political situation
of Spain, and to transport ourselves to the age of painting. At that
time Spain was the most powerful, and especially the most opulent empire
in Europe. Almost all Italy belonged to her; a large portion actually
owning allegiance to her sceptre, and the remainder being subject to her
paramount influence. The familiarity which existed between Charles the
Fifth and Titian is well known; as is likewise the anecdote of the
pencil, picked up and presented by the Emperor to the artist, who had
dropped it.

The same taste for, and patronage of, painting, continued through the
successive reigns, until the period when painting itself died a natural
death; and anecdotes similar to that of Charles the Fifth are related of
Philip the Fourth and Velasquez. All the works of art thus collected,
and distributed through the different palaces, have been recently
brought together, and placed in an edifice, some time since commenced,
and as yet not entirely completed. Titian was the most favoured of all
the Italian painters, not only with respect to his familiar intercourse
with the Emperor, but also in a professional point of view. The Museo
contains no less than forty of his best productions. Nor is it
surprising that the taste of the monarch, being formed by his
masterpieces, should extend its preference to the rest of the Venetian
school in a greater degree than to the remaining Italian schools. There
are, however, ten pictures by Raffaelle, including the Spasimo,
considered by many to be his greatest work.

A cause similar to that above named enables us to account for the riches
assembled in the Dutch and Flemish rooms, among which may be counted
more than two hundred pictures of Teniers alone. I should observe, that
I am not answerable for this last calculation; being indebted for my
information to the director, and distinguished artist, Don Jose
Madrazo. There is no catalogue yet drawn up. Rubens has a suite of rooms
almost entirely to himself, besides his just portion of the walls of the
gallery. The Vandykes and Rembrandts are in great profusion. With regard
to the Spanish schools, it may be taken for granted that they are as
well represented as those of the foreign, although partially subject,
nations. The works of Velasquez are the most numerous; which is
accounted for by his situation of painter to the Court, under Philip the
Fourth. There are sixty of his paintings.

[Illustration: ITALIAN GALLERY AT THE MUSEO, MADRID.]

The Murillos are almost as numerous, and in his best style: but Seville
has retained the cream of the genius of her most talented offspring; and
even at Madrid, in the collection of the Academy, there is a
Murillo--the Saint Elizabeth--superior to any of those in the great
gallery. It is much to be wished that some artist, gifted with the pen
of a Joshua Reynolds, or even of a Mengs (author of a notice on a small
portion of these paintings), could be found, who would undertake a
complete critical review of this superb gallery. All I presume to say on
the subject is, were the journey ten times longer and more difficult,
the view of the Madrid Museo would not be too dearly purchased.

Before I left Madrid, I went to the palace, to see the traces of the
conspiracy of the 7th October, remaining on the doors of the Queen's
apartments. You will recollect that the revolt of October 1842 was that
in favour of Christina, when the three officers, Concha, Leon, and
Pezuela, with a battalion, attacked the palace in the night, for the
purpose of carrying off the Queen and her sister. On the failure of the
attempt, owing to its having been prematurely put in execution, the
Brigadier Leon was shot, and the two others escaped.

It appears that the execution of this officer, unlike the greater number
of these occurrences, caused a strong sensation in Madrid, owing to the
sympathy excited by his popular character, and the impression that he
was the victim of jealousy in the mind of the Regent. The fine speech,
however, attributed to him by some of the newspapers, was not pronounced
by him. His words were very few, and he uttered them in a loud and clear
tone, before giving the word of command to his executioners. This, and
his receiving the fire without turning his back, were the only incidents
worthy of remark.

One of the two sentries stationed at the door of the Queen's anteroom
when I arrived, happened to have played a conspicuous part on the
eventful night. The Queen was defended by the guard of hallebardiers,
which always mounts guard in the interior of the palace. This sentinel
informed me that he was on guard that night, on the top step of the
staircase, when Leon, followed by a few officers, was seen to come up.
Beyond him and his fellow-sentry there were only two more, who were
posted at the door of the Queen's anteroom, adjoining her sleeping
apartment. This door faces the whole length of the corridor, with which,
at a distance of about twenty yards, the top of the staircase
communicates. In order to shield himself from the fire of the two
sentinels at the Queen's door, Leon grasped my informant by the ribs
right and left, and, raising him from the ground, carried him, like a
mummy, to the corridor; and there, turning sharp to the left, up to the
two sentries, whom he summoned to give him admittance in the name of the
absent Christina.

On the soldiers' refusal, he gave orders to his battalion to advance,
and a pitched battle took place, which was not ultimately decided until
daybreak--seven hours after. The terror of the little princesses, during
this night, may be imagined. Two bullets penetrated into the bed-room;
and the holes made by about twenty more in the doors of some of the
state apartments communicating with the corridor, are still preserved as
souvenirs of the event. The palace contains some well-painted ceilings
by Mengs, and is worthy of its reputation of one of the finest
residences in Europe. The staircase is superb. It was here that
Napoleon, entering the palace on the occasion of his visit to Madrid, to
install Joseph Buonaparte in his kingdom, stopped on the first landing;
and, placing his hand on one of the white marble lions which crouch on
the balustrades, turned to Joseph, and exclaimed, "Mon frère, vous serez
mieux logé que moi."

There is no road from Madrid to Toledo. On the occasions of religious
festivities, which are attended by the court, the journey is performed
by way of Aranjuez, from which place a sort of road conducts to the
ancient capital of Spain. There is, however, for those who object to
add so much to the actual distance, a track, known, in all its
sinuosities, throughout its depths and its shallows, around its bays,
promontories, islands, and peninsulas--to the driver of the diligence,
and to the mounted bearer of the mail; both of whom travel on the same
days of the week, in order to furnish reciprocal aid, in case of damage
to either. A twenty-four hours' fall of rain renders this track
impassable by the usual conveyance; a very unusual sort of carriage is
consequently kept in reserve for these occasions, and, as the period of
my journey happened to coincide with an uncommonly aqueous disposition
of the Castilian skies, I was fortunately enabled to witness the less
every day, and more eventful transit, to which this arrangement gave
rise.

Accordingly at four o'clock on an April morning--an hour later than is
the custom on the road from France to Madrid--I ascended the steps of a
carriage, selected for its lightness, which to those who know anything
of Continental coach-building, conveys a sufficient idea of its probable
solidity. There was not yet sufficient daylight to take a view of this
fabric; but I saw, by the aid of a lantern, my luggage lifted into a
sort of loose net, composed of straw-ropes, and suspended between the
hind wheels in precisely such juxtaposition, as to make the
portmanteaus, bags, &c. bear the same topographic relation to the
vehicle, as the truffles do to a turkey, or the stuffing to a duck.
There was much grumbling about the quantity of my luggage, and some
hints thrown out, relative to the additional perils, suspended over our
heads, or rather, under our seats, in consequence of the coincidence of
the unusual weight, with the bad state of the _road_, as they termed it,
and the acknowledged caducity of the carriage. I really was, in fact,
the only one to blame; for I could not discover, besides my things, more
than two small valises belonging to all the other six passengers
together.

At length we set off, and at a distance of four miles from Madrid, as
day began to break, we broke down.

The break-down was neither violent nor dangerous, and was occasioned by
the crash of a hind wheel, while our pace did not exceed a walk: but it
was productive of some amusement, owing to the position, near the corner
of the vehicle which took the greatest fancy to _terra firma_, of a not
over heroic limb of the Castilian law, who had endeavoured to be
facetious ever since our departure, and whose countenance now exhibited
the most grotesque symptoms of real terror. Never, I am convinced, will
those moments be forgotten by that individual, whose vivacity deserted
him for the remainder of the journey; and whose attitude and
expression, as his extended arms failed to recover his centre of gravity
exchanged for the supine, folded-up posture, unavoidable by the occupant
at the lowest corner of a broken-down vehicle,--while his thoughts
wandered to his absent offspring, whose fond smiles awaited him in
Toledo, but to whom perhaps he was not allowed to bid an eternal
adieu--will live likewise in the memory of his fellow-travellers.

This _dénouement_ of the adventures of the first carriage rendered a
long halt necessary; during which, the postilion returned to Madrid on a
mule, and brought us out a second. This proceeding occupied four hours,
during which some entered a neighbouring _venta_, others remained on the
road, seated on heaps of stones, and all breakfasted on what provisions
they had brought with them, or could procure at the said _venta_. The
sight of the vehicle that now approached, would have been cheaply bought
at the price of twenty up-sets. Don Quixote would have charged it, had
such an apparition suddenly presented itself to his view. It was called
a phaeton, but bore no sort of resemblance to the open carriage known in
England by that name. Its form was remarkable by its length being out of
all proportion to its width,--so much so as to require three
widely-separated windows on each side. These were irregularly placed,
instead of being alike on the two sides, for the door appeared to have
been forgotten until after the completion of the fabric, and to have
taken subsequently the place of a window; which window--pursuant to a
praiseworthy sense of justice--was provided for at the expense of a
portion of deal board, and some uniformity.

The machine possessed, nevertheless, allowing for its rather exaggerated
length, somewhat of the form of an ancient landau; but the roof
describing a semicircle, gave it the appearance of having been placed
upside down by mistake, in lowering it on to the wheels. Then, with
regard to these wheels, they certainly had nothing very extraordinary
about their appearance, when motionless; but, on being subjected to a
forward or backward impulse, they assumed, respectively, and
independently of each other, such a zigzag movement, as would belong to
a rotatory, locomotive pendulum, should the progress of mechanics ever
attain to so complicated a discovery. Indeed, the machine, in general,
appeared desirous of avoiding the monotony attendant on a
straight-forward movement; the body of the monster, from the groans,
sighs, screams, and other various sounds which accompanied its heaving,
pitching, and rolling exertions, appearing to belong to some unwieldy
and agonised mammoth and to move by its own laborious efforts, instead
of being indebted for its progress to the half-dozen quadrupeds hooked
to its front projections.

The track along which this interesting production of mechanical art now
conveyed us, bore much resemblance to a river, in the accidents of its
course. Thus we were reminded at frequent intervals, by the suddenly
increased speed of our progress, that we were descending a rapid: at
other times the motion was so vertical, as to announce the passage down
a cataract. These incidents were not objectionable to me, as they
interrupted the monotony of the walking pace, to which we were
condemned; although one or two passengers of rather burly proportions,
seemed not much to enjoy their repetition. However this might be,
assuredly we were none of us sorry to find ourselves at eight o'clock
that evening safely housed at Toledo.




LETTER VIII.

PICTURESQUE POSITION OF TOLEDO. FLORINDA.


Toledo.

Every traveller--I don't mean every one who habitually assists in
wearing out roads, whether of stone or iron--nor who travels for
business, nor who seeks to escape from himself--meaning from ennui, (a
vain attempt, by the way, if Horace is to be depended on; since, even
should he travel on horseback, the most exhilarating sort of locomotion,
ennui will contrive to mount and ride pillion)--but every one who
deserves the name of traveller, who travels for travelling sake, for the
pleasure of travelling, knows the intensity of the feeling which impels
his right hand, as he proceeds to open the window-shutter of his
bed-room, on the morning subsequent to his nocturnal arrival in a new
town.

The windows of the Posada del Miradero at Toledo are so placed as by no
means to diminish the interest of this operation. The shutter being
opened, I found myself looking from a perpendicular elevation of
several hundred feet, on one of the prettiest views you can imagine. The
town was at my back, and the road by which we had arrived, was cut in
the side of the precipice beneath me. In following that direction, the
first object at all prominent was the gate leading to Madrid--a cluster
of half Arab embattled towers and walls, standing somewhat to the left
at the bottom of the descent. These gave issue to the track mentioned in
my journey, and which could now be traced straight in front, to a
considerable distance.

The ground rises slightly beyond the gates of the town, and preserves a
moderate elevation all across the view, retreating right and left, so as
to offer the convex side of the arc of an immense circle. This formation
gives to the view a valley, extending on either side, shut in on the
left by mountains at a distance of four miles; while to the east it
extends as far as the eye can reach,--some mountains, scarcely
perceptible, crossing it at the horizon. The Tagus advances down the
eastern valley from Aranjuez; which château is in view at the distance
of twenty-eight miles, and approaching with innumerable zigzags to the
foot of the town, suddenly forms a curve, and, dashing into the rocks,
passes round the back of the city, issues again into the western valley,
and, after another sharp turn to the left, resumes the same direction
as before. All this tract of country owes to the waters of the Tagus a
richness of vegetation, and a bright freshness nowhere surpassed. So
much for the distant view.

To judge of the nearer appearance of the town, I crossed the bridge of
Alcantara, placed at the entrance of the eastern valley, and leading to
Aranjuez. The situation may be described in a few words. Toledo stands
on an eminence nearly circular in its general form. It is a mass of
jagged rock, almost perpendicular on all its sides. The river flows
rather more than half round it, descending from the east, and passing
round its southern side. The left or south bank is of the same
precipitous formation; but, instead of presenting that peculiarity
during only a short distance, it continues so both above and below the
town; while on the opposite side the only high ground is the solitary
mass of rock selected, whether with a view to defence or to
inconvenience, for the position of this ancient city. The Tagus is
crossed by two bridges, one at each extremity of the semi-circle
described by it round the half of the town. These bridges are both
highly picturesque, from their form no less than their situation. They
are raised upon arches of a height so disproportionate to their width,
as to appear like aqueducts; and are provided at each extremity with
towers, all, with one exception, Moorish in their style. The lower
bridge (lower by position, for it is the higher of the two in actual
elevation) bears the name of San Martin, and is traversed by the road to
Estremadura; the other leads to Aranjuez, and is the puente de
Alcantara. We are now standing on this last, having passed under the
Arab archway of its tower.

Its width is just sufficient for the passage of two vehicles abreast,
and it is covered with flag-paving. The river flows sixty feet below. At
the back of the tower which faces you, at the opposite end of the
bridge, rises a rock, almost isolated from the rest of the cliff, and on
its top the half-ruined towers and walls of a Moorish castle. On the
left hand extends the valley, through which the river approaches in a
broad mass. The road to Aranjuez follows the same direction, after
having first disappeared round the base of the rock just mentioned, and
is bordered with rose-trees, and occasional groups of limes, which
separate it from the portions set apart for pedestrians. On the right
hand the river (still looking from the bridge) is suddenly pressed in
between precipices, becomes narrow, and at the distance of a few hundred
yards, forms a noisy cascade.

[Illustration: VIEW OF TOLEDO]

Still looking in that direction, the left bank--a rocky precipice, as I
mentioned before--curves round and soon hurries it out of sight. The
lower part of the opposite or town bank is ornamented, close to the
cascade, with a picturesque ruin, on which you look down from your
position. This consists of three stories of arches, standing partly in
the water. Above and behind them rise a few larger buildings, almost
perpendicularly over each other, and the summit is crowned with the
colossal quadrangular mass of the Alcazar.

The ruinous arches just mentioned, are the remains of a building erected
by a speculator, who had conceived a plan for raising water to the
Alcazar by means of wheels, furnished with jars, according to the custom
of this part of Spain. The arrangement is simple; the jars, being
attached round a perpendicular wheel, successively fill with water, as
each arrives at the bottom, and empty themselves, on reaching the
summit, into any receptacle placed so as to receive their contents. The
speculator, having to operate on a colossal scale, intended probably to
super-pose wheel over wheel, and to establish reservoirs at different
elevations, as it would scarcely be possible to work a wheel of such
dimensions as to carry jars to the height required (more than three
hundred feet), even though furnished with ropes, which are made to turn
round the wheel and descend below it.

Crossing the bridge, the road quits the river, or rather is left for a
certain space by it, until it meets it at the distance of a mile. This
road is a favourite promenade of the inhabitants, and deservedly so. On
each side, for the distance of a mile, it is bordered by hedges of
magnificent rose-trees. These hedges are double on both sides, enclosing
walks for the promenaders on foot. Behind those on the outside, the
colours are varied by the pale green of the olive-tree; and over them
occasional clusters of lime-trees, mingled with the acacia and laburnum,
furnish shade, in case of an excess of sunshine. This promenade, flanked
on one side by the hills, and on the other, by the highly cultivated
plain, in parts of which the Tagus is seen occasionally to peep through
its wooded banks, is most delicious during the rose season. I should
especially recommend the visitor of Toledo to repair to it during the
first hour after sunrise, when thronged with birds, which are here
almost tame, and fill the air with their music; and also in the evening,
when frequented by the mantilla-hooded fair of the city.

There is, however, notwithstanding the beauty and gay appearance of this
profusion of roses, a singular effect produced by their situation.
Usually seen surrounded by other flowers or by well-kept grass or earth,
they do not look quite themselves on the side on which they rest their
bushy foundations on a dusty road, covered with deep ruts. The fish out
of water forms a hackneyed, not to say a dried up, comparison; but we
can compare the rather pallid and unnatural appearance of these plants
to that of a bevy of ladies, who, tired of the monotony of a ball-room
in Grosvenor Place, should resolve, precisely at the crisis when
candle-light is more than ever required for their rather suffering
complexions, to compel their partners to lead them, at sunrise, a
galopade down Tattersall's yard. The roses, thus misplaced, are
nevertheless roses, and cease not to be fair, in spite of their unusual
_entourage_, and to contribute to the beauty and novelty of this
picturesque promenade.

Amongst the variety of harmless weaknesses by which human imagination,
and consequently human locomotion are influenced, I look upon one of the
most irresistible (if such an epithet be applicable to a weakness) to be
that fractional component part of the cravings of antiquarianism, which
urges some persons in the search after, and rewards their labours on the
discovery of, the locality supposed to be the birthscene of some great
historical event, however insignificant in other respects, or even
however loathsome its actual state may be to the outward senses. Thus,
when, in Normandy, the worthy and probably waggish majordomo of the
crumbling old castle of Falaise, directs your attention to the window
from which Duke Robert caught the first glance of the ankle of William
the Conqueror's mother,--as she pursued her professional labours, and
polluted with her soapsuds the silver brook a quarter of a mile below
him,--and suddenly yielded his soul to its irresistible beauty:
notwithstanding the impossibility of the thing, many, and I confess
myself one, are too delighted with the window, and the rivulet, and the
majordomo, and the--God knows what!--perhaps with the very
impossibility--to allow themselves a moment's sceptical or sarcastic
feeling on the subject.

I should mention that my visit to Falaise happening to take place
shortly after the passage of the King of the French on a tour through
his western provinces, the aforesaid cicerone pointed out a highly
suspicious-looking inscription, being the initials of the monarch,
carefully engraved in the stone; which he informed me had been cut by
Louis Philippe, on the occasion of his visit at midnight to the room of
Duke Robert; but of which I took the liberty of suspecting himself of
being the sculptor, during some idle moment,--fond as he probably was of
contemplating the innocently expressive countenances of his satisfied
visitors.

Actuated by the feeling I have attempted to describe, one of my first
inquiries at Toledo related to the well-known story of Florinda and her
bath, so fatal to the Gothic sway in Spain. I was immediately directed
to the spot, on which is seen a square tower, pierced by arched openings
through its two opposite sides, and on a third side by a similar but
smaller aperture. The four walls alone remain, and the whole is
uncovered. This symmetrical-looking edifice, well built and composed of
large stones, measures about sixteen feet square, and from forty to
fifty in elevation, and stands on the edge of the river, on the town
side, about a hundred yards below the western bridge--that called after
Saint Martin--at the precise point at which the river quits the town,
and its north bank ceases to be precipitous.

The extreme point of the termination of the high ground is immediately
over the building, and is covered with the ruins of King Roderick's
palace, the outer walls of which descend to the water, and are
terminated by a small roundtower within a few yards of the quadrangular
edifice. The edifice is called the Baño de la Cava, meaning Florinda's
bath, although the native popular tradition, losing sight of the events
of the history, has metamorphosed the heroine of the spot into a Moorish
princess.

In fact, the rocky precipice terminates at this spot,--the last piece
of rock forming part of the foundation of the square tower, immediately
beyond which is a gently descending sand-bank most convenient and
tempting to bathers. This circumstance, added to the situation of
Roderick's residence, immediately above the scene, was delightfully
corroborative of the tradition; and proved sufficiently, had all
investigation ceased there, the identity of the spot with the scene of
the anecdote. Owing to an excess of curiosity a new discovery threw a
doubt over the whole affair.

[Illustration: FLORINDA'S BATH.]

A bridge is too public a thoroughfare to allow of bathing to be
practised in its immediate neighbourhood: and, in fact, the erection of
the neighbouring one of St. Martin is of much later date than the events
of the history in question. Fatal curiosity, however, led me to the back
of the building,--the very bath of Florinda,--where it was impossible
not to discover, even to conviction, that it, the square tower itself,
had formerly been the entrance of a bridge. This is proved by the ruins
of two piers, which appear above the water,--one near to the shore on
which I was standing, the other near to the opposite bank, and both
forming a line with the square tower on looking through its two opposite
arches. The tower possesses other peculiarities which, compared with
those belonging to the bridges actually in existence, fully confirm the
supposition.

Now, although the tradition has christened the spot Baño de la Cava,
which expression is translated "bath of the prostitute," it is certain
that Florinda was the daughter of Count Julian, governor of the Spanish
possessions in Africa, and a personage of sufficient rank and influence
to obtain a hearing at the court of the Arab Caliph, or at all events of
his viceroy in Africa, and to conceive the idea of calling a foreign
army to execute his private vengeance. It is therefore extremely
improbable that the daughter of such a person should have been seen to
measure and compare the proportions of her legs with those of her
companions in the immediate vicinity of a bridge, necessarily the most
frequented of thoroughfares.

I confess I left the spot filled with disappointment. In vain I
reflected that after all the fact is fact--that the sensual Roderick may
certainly have spied from behind a window-lattice the frolics of some
ladies at their bath; and that, wherever his _espionage_ took place, he
may for that purpose have intentionally procured himself a place of
concealment, and have formed the resolution of possessing one of them.
In fact, it was a matter of indifference to me whether the circumstance
had occurred or not, provided I should ascertain its whereabouts,
supposing it real, instead of merely discovering the spot on which it
did not take place.

Having thus convicted the generally received tradition of deceit,--at
least, in one of its parts,--it became an object to discover some other
version of the story, which might tally in a more satisfactory manner
with present existing proofs. The Arab historians deny the invasion to
have been brought about by any such occurrence; but Mariana, copied by
more recent writers, has either discovered or compiled a very plausible
story, clear in its details, only erroneous in respect of the heroine's
name, which he makes out to be Cava. From this version the bath is
entirely excluded.

According to the custom in Gothic Spain, the sons of the nobles received
their education in the royal palace, and on attaining the age of
manhood, they formed an escort round the sovereign on all expeditions,
whether to the field or the chase. Their daughters were likewise
entrusted to the care of royalty, and attended the person of the Queen,
after having completed their education and instruction in the
accomplishments suited to their sex, under her superintendence. When
these noble damsels could number sufficient summers, their hands were
bestowed according to the royal selection.

Among the attendants of Queen Egilona, was a daughter of Count Julian,
possessed of extreme beauty. Florinda, while playing with her companions
in a garden, situated on the banks of the Tagus, and overlooked by a
tower, which contained a portion of Don Rodrigo's apartments, exposed to
view, more than accorded either with etiquette or with her intention,
the symmetry of her form. King Rodrigo, who, favoured by the concealment
of a window-blind, had been watching the whole scene, became suddenly
enamoured of her, and resolved to obtain a return of his passion; but,
after finding every effort useless, and his object unattainable, he at
length employed violence.

Every circumstance of this story is corroborated, as far as is possible
in the present time, by the position of the localities, the known
customs of the period, and the character of King Roderick. But the
historian Mariana, to show the minuteness and triumph of research, on
which he has founded his relation, quotes the young lady's own version
of the affair; in fact, no less interesting a document than her letter
to her father, then in Africa, disclosing the insult offered to the
family. The following is the translation of this portentous dispatch. A
_billet-doux_ pregnant with greater events never issued from the boudoir
of beauty and innocence.

"Would to Heaven, my lord and father!--Would to Heaven the earth had
closed over me, before it fell to my lot to write these lines, and with
such grievous news to cause you sadness and perpetual regret! How many
are the tears that flow while I am writing, these blots and erasures are
witnesses. And yet if I do not immediately, I shall cause a suspicion
that not only the body has been polluted, but the soul likewise blotted
and stained with perpetual infamy. Would I could foresee a term to our
misery!--Who but yourself shall find a remedy for our misfortunes? Shall
we delay, until time brings to light that which is now a secret, and
the affront we have received entail on us a shame more intolerable than
death itself? I blush to write that which I am bound to divulge. O
wretched and miserable fate! In a word, your daughter--your blood, that
of the kingly line of the Goths, has suffered from King Rodrigo,--to
whose care, alas! she was entrusted like the sheep to the wolf,--a most
wicked and cruel affront. It is for you, if you are worthy the name of a
man, to cause the sweet draught of our ruin to become a deadly poison to
his life; nor to leave unpunished the mockery and insult he has cast on
our line and on our house."

Don Julian, who, as some say, was of royal descent, and a relative, not
far removed, of Roderick--was possessed of qualities no less marked by
daring than artifice. His plans well digested, he committed his
government in Africa to the charge of a deputy, and repaired to the
court at Toledo. There he made it his business to advance in credit and
favour until the moment should arrive for action. His first step was, by
means of false alarms of attacks meditated on the northern frontier, to
get rid of the principal part of the disposable forces in that
direction. Meanwhile he caused a letter from his Countess, who remained
in Africa, to be forwarded to the King, in which, on the plea of serious
illness, she urgently entreats the royal permission for the departure
of Florinda to Ceuta. It is related that the profligate Rodrigo
consented to the journey with so much the better grace, that possession
had divested the attractions of his victim of all further hold of his
passions, already under the dominion of new allurements.

There is a gate at Malaga, giving issue towards the sea-shore, which
bears to this day the name of Gate of the Cava: through it she is said
to have passed on embarking for Africa.

With regard to the name "la Cava" given to the gate and to the bath, I
am disposed to prefer the popular notion to the assertion of Mariana,
that it was her name. It is a natural supposition that the anecdote of
the affair of Toledo, spread among the Arabs, who, for centuries after
this period, were the depositaries of the annals and traditions of the
Peninsula,--should have become tinted with a colour derived from their
customs and ideas. Now it would be difficult to persuade an Arab that
the circumstances of the story in question could befall a virtuous
female, surrounded with the thousand precautions peculiar to an oriental
court. If we add to this the contemptuous tone assumed by them towards
those of the hostile creed--a tone that must have suited in an especial
degree with their way of thinking on the subject of female deportment
among the Christians, which they look upon as totally devoid of
delicacy and reserve--the epithet applied to Florinda is easily
accounted for. But to return to the story.

It only now remained for Don Julian to determine the Caliph's viceroy in
Africa in favour of the invasion. Repairing to his court, he obtained an
audience, in which he painted to the Prince, in such eloquent terms, the
natural and artificial wealth of the Spanish peninsula, the facility of
the enterprise, owing to the absence of the principal part of the
disposable hostile force, and the unpopularity of King Rodrigo, that an
expedition was immediately ordered; which, although at first prudently
limited to a small troop under Tharig, led to the conquest, in a few
campaigns, of the whole Peninsula.

Mingled with the ruins of Roderick's palace are seen at present those of
the monastery of Saint Augustin, subsequently erected on the same site:
but on the side facing the river, the ancient wall and turrets, almost
confounded with the rock, on which they were built, have outlived the
more recent erections, or perhaps have not been interfered with by them.
Immediately beyond the portion of these walls, beneath which is seen the
Baño de la Cava, they turn, together with the brink of the precipice,
abruptly to the north, forming a right angle with the river bank: this
part faces the western _vega_ or valley, and looks down on the site of
the ancient palace gardens, which occupied the first low ground. They
extended as far as the chapel of Santa Leocadia. The ground is now
traversed by the road to the celebrated sword-blade manufactory,
situated on the bank of the river, half a mile lower down. With the
exception of the inmates of that establishment, the only human beings
who frequent the spot are the votaries on their way to the shrine of
Santa Leocadia, and the convicts of a neighbouring _Presidio_ in search
of water from the river.




LETTER IX.

CATHEDRAL OF TOLEDO.


Toledo.

Every successive æra of civilization, with the concomitant religion on
which it has been founded, and from which it has taken its peculiar
mould, has, after maintaining its ground with more or less lustre, and
throughout a greater or smaller duration, arrived at its inevitable
period of decline and overthrow.

In ceasing, however, to live, and to fill society far and wide with its
enlightening influence,--in exchanging its erect attitude for the
prostrate one consequent on its fall,--seldom has a creed, which has
long held possession of the most enlightened intellects of our race for
the time being, undergone an entire extinction, so as to disappear
altogether from the face of the earth, and leave no trace of its
existence. The influence of the soil, formation, and climate of the
region, in the bosom of which such civilization has had its birth, on
the dispositions and faculties of the race which has become its
depositary, has always set its peculiar mark on its monuments, whether
civil, military, or religious, but especially the last; which monuments,
surviving the reign of the power to which they owe their existence,
prolong and sanctify its memory, while they stand, erect and silent,
over its grave; and furnish valuable information and benefit to those
future generations sufficiently enlightened to consult them.

If this theory of successions and vicissitudes be consonant (which
probably no one will deny) with the march of events on the surface of
this our planet, then do the circumstances of the present situation
invest, as far as regards Spain, those relics of human genius and human
enthusiasm, the venerable temples of her declining faith, with an
interest beyond that which they have possessed at any period since their
foundation. It is impossible to have paid any attention to the events of
the last few years, without having received the conviction that the
reign of Christianity is here fast approaching,--not the commencement,
but the termination of its decline. Spaniards will never do things by
halves; and will probably prefer the entire overthrow of ancient customs
to the system pursued in France, of propping up, by government
enactments and salaries, a tottering edifice of external forms, long
since divested of its foundation of public belief.

To speak correctly, the decline of religious supremacy in Spain is by no
means recent. It was coeval with that of the arts, and of the political
grandeur of the country. The gradual cessation of the vast gifts and
endowments for the erection of the religious establishments was a
symptom of devotional enthusiasm having passed its zenith. Had not this
occurred nearly three centuries back, Madrid would not have wanted a
Cathedral. Nothing could ever have tended more directly to compromise
the durability of Christianity in Spain, than the final expulsion or
extermination of the Moors and Jews. Had Torquemada and a few others
possessed heads as clear and calculating as their hearts were resolute
and inexorable--a knowledge of human nature as profound as their
ambition of divine honours was exalted, they would have taken care not
entirely to deprive the Church of food for its passions and energies.
They would not have devoured all their heretics at a single meal, but
would have exercised more _ménagement_ and less voracity. They would
have foreseen that by burning a few hundred Jews and Arabs less each
year, nourishment would remain to animate the declamations of preachers,
and the energies of the faithful; without which the fatal effects of
sloth and indifference must inevitably take root in the imaginations,
and eventually undermine their lofty fabric.

The decline was, however, so gradual as to exercise no perceptible
influence on the general conduct of the population, by whom forms were
still observed, churches filled, and acts of devotion unceasingly
accomplished. A variety of causes (into a description of which it is not
my object, nor would it be your wish, that I should enter, but of which
one of the most influential has been the importation of foreign
ideas--as well through natural channels, as by special and interested
exertions) has precipitated the _dénouement_ of this long-commenced
revolution; and that with so headlong a rapidity, that, in that Spain
which surpassed all other nations in bigoted attachment to religious
rites, the confiscation of all the possessions of the Church, under a
promise (not to be performed) of salaries for a certain number of
ecclesiastics, insufficient for the continuation of the ancient
ceremonies, is received by the population with indifference! The
Cathedral of Toledo, deprived of the greater number of its
functionaries,--including its archbishop and fifty-six of its sixty
canons, and no longer possessing, out of an income of hundreds of
thousands sterling, a treasure sufficient for providing brooms and
sweepers for its pavement,--will, in perhaps not much more than another
year, if the predictions of the inhabitants be verified, be finally
closed to public worship.

The same interest, therefore, which surrounded the Arab monuments three
centuries since, and the Roman edifices of Spain in the fifth century,
attaches itself now to the Christian temples; which, at this crisis,
offer themselves to the tourist in the sad but attractive gloom of
approaching death; since depriving them of the pomp and observances
which filled their tall arcades with animation, is equivalent to
separating a soul from a body. He will explore them and examine their
ceremonies with all the eagerness and perseverance of a last
opportunity,--he will wander untired through the mysterious twilight of
their arched recesses, and muse on the riches lavished around him to so
little purpose, and on the hopes of those who entrusted their memories
to the guardianship of so frail and transient a depositary. The tones of
their giant though melodious voices, as, sent from a thousand brazen
throats, they roll through the vaulted space the dirge of their
approaching fate, will fill him with sadness; and the ray that streams
upon him from each crimson and blue _rosace_ will fix itself on his
memory, kindling around it an inextinguishable warmth, as though he had
witnessed the smile of a departing saint.

I had read of Toledo being in possession of the finest church in
Spain,--and _that_ in the book of a tourist, whose visit to this town
follows immediately that to Seville. Begging pardon of the clever and
entertaining writer to whom I allude, the Cathedral of Toledo strikes me
as far from being the finest in Spain; nor would it be the finest in
France, nor in England, nor in other countries that might be enumerated,
could it be transported to either. It is large; but in this respect it
yields to that of Seville. What its other claims to pre-eminence may be,
it is difficult to discover. It is true that its interior presents a
specimen of the simple and grand pointed style of its period. This being
put in execution on a large scale, would render it an imposing and a
beautiful edifice, but for a subsequent addition, which, to render
justice to the architect, he certainly never could have contemplated.
The noble pillars, towering to a height of sixty feet, have been
clothed, together with their capitals, in a magnificent coat of
whitewash! Without having witnessed such a desecration in this or some
similar edifice, it is impossible to conceive the deadening effect it
produces on the feeling of admiration such a building ought to excite.
An inscription in distinct and large characters, over the southernmost
of the three western doors, after recording the conquest of Granada by
the Catholic Kings, as Ferdinand and Isabella are here termed, the
expulsion of the Jews, and the completion of the Cathedral, brands with
this act of barbarism one Don Francisco Fernandez de Cuença, _obrero
mayor_ (almost a Dean) of the Cathedral in the year 1493.

There is, however, a moment of each day when the tall arcades vindicate
their outraged majesty. "La nuit tous les chats sont gris," says the
proverb. I therefore proceeded at the approach of twilight (all access
at a later hour being prohibited) to see whether its application would
extend to this church. This is, in fact, the hour, just before the
closing of the doors, at which it should be visited. Darkness has
assumed his empire within these walls long before the stirring labyrinth
without has had warning of his approach. No colours nor gildings (the
latter being rather injudiciously distributed) are visible--nothing but
a superb range of beautifully painted windows; and the columns only
trace their dim outline a little less black against the deep gloom of
the rest of the building. At this hour, could it last, it would be
impossible to tire of wandering through this forest of magnificent
stems, of which the branches are only seen to spring, and immediately
lose themselves beneath the glories of the coloured transparencies
rendered doubly brilliant by their contrast with the gloom of all below
them. The principal merit, in fact, of this edifice, consists in its
windows. That of the purity of its general style deserves also to be
allowed; but with some reserve in the appreciation of the accessory
points of the design. It depended, for instance, on the judgment of the
architect, to diminish or to increase the number of columns which
separate the different naves, and by their unnecessary abundance he has
impaired the grandeur of the general effect.

The interior dimensions are as follows:--Length, including a moderately
sized chapel at the eastern extremity, three hundred and fifty English
feet; width, throughout, one hundred and seventy-four feet; height of
the principal nave and transept, about one hundred and twenty feet. The
width is divided into five naves; those at the outside rising to about
two-thirds of the height of the two next adjoining; and these to about
half that of the centre nave. An entire side of a chapel opening out of
the southernmost nave, is ornamented in the Arab style--having been
executed by a Moorish artist at the same period as the rest; and not (as
might be conjectured) having belonged to the mosque, which occupied the
same site previously to the erection of the present cathedral. This
small chapel would be a beautiful specimen of the Arab ornament in
stucco, but for several coats of whitewash it has received. An arched
recess occupies the centre, and is called the Tomb of the Alguazil. A
handsome doorway in the same style is seen in the anteroom of the
Chapter-saloon.

[Illustration: APSE OF THE CATHEDRAL, TOLEDO.]

Facing the entrance to the centre or extreme eastern chapel, that of San
Ildefonzo, the back of the high altar, or, as it is vulgarly called, the
Trascoro, is--not adorned, would it were possible not to say
disfigured, by an immense mass of sculpture called the Transparente. It
is not easy to imagine the reason of this altar-piece having received
its name, for it is not more transparent than any other mountain--never
was witnessed so lamentable a mis-application of riches and labour! Some
of the marble was brought from Carrara; the rest is not of a very good
white, and being thus exposed to an unfavourable contrast, adds to the
displeasing effect of the unwieldy forms which enter into the
composition of this huge blunder of art--this pile of masses on masses
of ugliness. At the sight of a large spherical form rising abruptly from
the surface of some shaft of a pillar, you step back, and discover that
it forms part of the posteriors of a corpulent cherub, as large as the
column itself, which he has thus unmercifully annihilated, in order to
save himself the trouble of passing a few inches to the left or right.
But it is needless to notice the details of this piece of sculpture,
which being the largest, and occupying the most conspicuous position in
the whole church, forcibly attracts the attention which, but for that
circumstance, one would rather bestow in another direction.

It is a relief to take one's station on the shining mahogany benches
adjoining the wall of the opposite chapel of San Ildefonzo; and to
contemplate its chaste style and graceful proportions, and the handsome
tombs which occupy its octagonally divided walls. The piece of sculpture
in marble, placed over the principal altar, is undeserving of its
conspicuous situation. It represents the Vision of San Ildefonzo, to
which we shall shortly have occasion to direct our attention.

The adjoining chapel, as we proceed towards the northernmost nave, that
of Santiago, or more generally called after its founder, Don Alvaro de
Luna, is still finer. It is larger and loftier, and of a more ornamental
design. It presents five sides of an octagon: the three remaining sides
turning inwards to suit the form of the apse. This Alvaro de Luna, the
Lord Essex of Juan the Second, having by the high favour he enjoyed in
the intimacy of the monarch, given umbrage to the courtiers, was put to
death by the King, who gave credit to the charges falsely brought
against him. Don Juan, however, who did not long survive his friend, had
justice done to his remains. Being found innocent by a posthumous trial
at Valladolid, his body was conveyed with great pomp to Toledo, and
placed in the centre of his chapel. The tomb of his Countess stands
close to his own; and in the niches of the surrounding walls, those of
his most distinguished relatives, one of whom, on the right of the
altar, is represented in complete armour, with a turban on his head. The
treasures bestowed on this favourite, flowed plentifully into the
Cathedral of Toledo. Besides his chapel, the finest of all--the
elaborately executed enclosure of the sanctuary, is one of his gifts:
his arms are there recognised, frequently recurring among the various
designs of the external tracery.

A narrow passage, leading from the apse between the chapel of Don
Alvaro, and the entrance to the sacristy, communicates with the chapel
of the kings. After passing through a simply designed anteroom of more
recent date, the eye reposes with pleasure on a small interior in the
pointed style of the latest period--of proportions, perhaps, not the
less graceful from their being rather narrow for the length. Two richly
ornamented arches, stretching across the interior, divide it into three
parts, in the first of which is seen a gallery containing an elaborately
wrought gilded confessional. The walls of the two other divisions are
divided into six parts; the chapel having been constructed and endowed
by Juan the First, for the reception of six monuments: those of himself
and his Queen Isabella; those of his father Henry the Second, (natural
son of Alonzo the Eleventh, and who dethroned and killed with his own
hand his half-brother, Pedro the cruel,) and Doña Juana his wife; and
those of Henry the Third, and Doña Catalina his wife.

Returning to the interior of the apse, and continuing in the direction
of the north side, another small passage and anteroom lead to the
principal sacristy, which communicates with the next chapel, called the
Sagrario, and composed of three apartments. The great sacristy contains
some good paintings, particularly the ceiling by Giordano--a modern tomb
of the late archbishop, Cardinal de Bourbon, and a series of narrow
doors, within which are recesses. The first of these contains the crown
and bracelets of the Virgin of the Sagrario: in four others are
preserved magnificent ornaments of silver, representing emblematically
the four quarters of the globe. Each quarter is personified by a figure
invested with the attributes which characterize the region she
represents, seated on a large silver globe, on the front of which is
traced the quarter represented. The globe is supported by figures of
animals. In the last of these recesses is seen the sword of Alonzo the
Sixth, who won Toledo from the Moors. It is small, and unornamented,
except by a hilt of embossed silver, on which the arms are repeated four
times. In the smaller sacristy within are several good pictures, but not
so remarkable as to prevent their being eclipsed by the splendid robe
of the Virgin of the neighbouring Sagrario, here exhibited, extended
flat on a semicircular board, such being the form of the garment.

No one knows the value of this treasure. During the Peninsular War, the
archbishop, in order to spare the French Generals too great a
temptation, conveyed it, together with whatever else deserved the
precaution, to Cadiz. It is embroidered almost entirely with pearls on a
tissue of silver; but none of the silver is visible without separating
the pearls, diamonds, &c., with the fingers. Most of the larger pearls
possess the irregular sort of beaten shape often observed in the best
specimens. Some are enormous. Numbers of diamonds, rubies, and other
stones are admitted in the upper part, to vary and enliven the effect of
the different designs of the embroidery. In another case is extended the
front-piece, worn together with the robe, which is open in front. The
robe sits nearly in the fashion of a lady's cloak, but perfectly stiff,
and widening as it descends, so much as to make the figure assume the
appearance of a triangle, of which the base is longer than the two other
sides. The opening in front corresponds with the outline of the two
sides, being wider below than above, although not in as great a degree.
This opening is occupied by the front-piece, which is much smaller than
the robe, but still more valuable, being principally worked in
brilliants. It contains also every variety of precious stones,
introduced as their colours may happen to accord with the design.

In addition to these is shown the dress of the Bambino, similar in
materials to the two others; but the pearls and diamonds more equally
distributed.

But the marvel of this costume is the crown. This ornament adds to the
splendour of its materials, the most exquisite and elaborate
workmanship. It would require hours to appreciate the labour and taste
displayed in all its details. Marshal Soult, could he but see it, would
order masses for the soul of the prelate who spared him such a
temptation. The diamonds, especially those which compose a cross
surmounting the centre, are of the purest water, and of immense size.
But in the midst of the dazzling and harmonious intricacy of this gem of
all colours, there is a centre of attraction, which took my fancy more
than the rest. Immediately under the centre ball, an immense spherical
emerald, which supports the diamond cross, is a small bird suspended on
a hook within the crown. All the parts of this bird are composed of
white enamel, except the body, around which the wings, legs, neck, and
head, are attached, and which consists of a pearl of an oval form, about
the size of a sparrow's egg. The movement of the statue during a
procession, keeps the bird (hanging from its hook) in constant
agitation, and produces the effect of a living bird enclosed in a cage
of precious stones.[6]

A pair of bracelets, possessing no less magnificence than the crown, but
rather too heavy and bulky to be graceful, are suspended in the same
recess, and worn on the same occasions.

It should not be forgotten, as a proof of the judgment shown in the
choice of ornaments, which, as far as regards the front, consist
principally of diamonds, that the complexion of the Virgin of the
Sagrario, is more than dark--in fact, quite black.[7] The innermost of
the three apartments forming the chapel of the Sagrario is called the
Ochavo, and is the deposit of a collection of relics of all kinds. It is
an octagon, surmounted at an elevation of more than double its diameter
by a dome ornamented with excellent painting. The walls are faced with
the best Spanish marbles. Each of the eight sides contains an open
recess reaching to the first cornice--an elevation of about twenty-five
feet; and in these recesses are contained all the valuable relics
belonging to the cathedral;--a rich display of silver statues,
reliquaries, coffins, chests, and crosses of gold and silver, some
containing jewels of great value. A silver statue of Saint Ferdinand
wearing a golden crown is among the objects most worthy of remark; also
a cross containing a portion of the true cross, presented to the
cathedral by St. Louis. This and several other relics, such as a phial
containing the Virgin's milk, a portion of our Saviour's purple garment,
&c., were presented to the cathedral by St. Louis on his return from the
east, and are here preserved, together with the letter in his own
hand-writing, which accompanied them.

The Virgin of the Sagrario receives by far the greatest share of
devotion brought to the numerous shrines of this vast temple, even
greater than that offered at the high altar. More masses are performed
at her altar than at all the others added together. The aisles facing
her antechapel are constantly filled with a crowd of kneeling votaries.
She stands in the second enclosure, turning her back to the Ochavo. An
iron railing separates her apartment from the first chapel, which is
usually open to the aisles. She stands consequently in full view,
magnificently robed in a _fac simile_ imitation of her pearl dress, the
original being only worn on one or two occasions during the year.

The interior of the Capilla Mayor, is ornamented with several rows of
statues, and some handsome funereal monuments, forming together a sort
of transparent wall of sculpture on each of its sides. In the midst of a
series of mitred archbishops, and coroneted princes, the figure of a
peasant occupies one of the most conspicuous positions. It stands on the
left side, as you face the High Altar, and about twenty feet from the
pavement. This statue represents a celebrated historical personage.
Alonzo the Eighth, when penetrating across the Sierra Morena into
Andalucia, in search of the Moorish army under the King of Morocco,
Mahomed ben Jacob, was in danger of losing the fruit of his exertions,
in bringing together the forces of the Kings of Aragon and Navarre,
together with numerous other confederates. He had led the combined army
into a defile, in which he would have had to receive the attack of the
Moor at an insuperable disadvantage. The hostile forces occupied a
height called the Puerto del Miradal.

It was at the moment that retreat was the subject of deliberation, that
a peasant presented himself, and offered to guide the army out of the
pass. Having assured himself of the man's sincerity, Alonzo put himself
under his conduct, and was led to the summit of the mountain, where he
found himself on the border of an immense plain. This decided the great
victory of las Navas de Tolosa gained over the Moors on the 16th of
July, 1212. Alonzo ordered a statue of the peasant to be placed in this
cathedral. He is represented in a costume not unlike that of an ancient
Roman rustic, a sort of tunic reaching to the knees, and his face is
covered with a profuse beard.

The interior of the choir is the work of Felipe de Borgoña, and
Berruguete; the latter having been employed, after the death of Felipe
de Borgoña, in 1548, in continuing the sculptures. The entire south side
was left for him to complete; after which he added a group in marble,
representing the Transfiguration, placed rather injudiciously, since it
out-tops the screen or back of the choir; thus presenting to the view of
those who enter from the western or grand entrance, and who are more
likely to have come with the intention of viewing the ornaments, than
the canons who are seated in the choir--the back of the subject, or
rather, forms which represent no subject whatever. There is a Virgin on
a pedestal in the centre of the eastern end of the choir, turning her
back to the bronze railing which separates it from the transept. This
statue has occupied its present position ever since the erection of the
cathedral; and it is probable would long since have quitted it, but for
a still greater inconvenience consequent on its removal. The attempt was
recently made, when a mass of water issued with much violence from
beneath the pedestal, and putting to flight the canons who were
assembled to preside at the operation, instantly inundated the whole
church. The virgin occupies probably the site of the fountain which must
have been the centre of the court, at the period of the existence of the
mosque. However that may be, the spot is the exact centre of the present
edifice.

At the two eastern angles of the quadrangle, formed by the intersection
of the transept and principal nave, close to the railing of the capilla
mayor are two pulpits of bronze, excellently wrought; supported on short
pillars of rare marbles.

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE CATHEDRAL, TOLEDO.]

A tall pyramidal Gothic edifice[8] of gilded and painted wood, rising to
the full height of the ceiling, stands in front of a column of the
second nave from the north side. All its sides are open, and furnished
with bronze railings, through which is seen an altar, raised on three or
four steps. In the centre of the altar is inserted a marble slab--a
highly prized relic, being the stone on which the Virgin placed her foot
on the occasion of her appearing in the cathedral in _propriâ personâ_
to the Archbishop San Ildefonzo. This peculiar favour bestowed on the
saint--and a robe with which she invested him with her own hands, were
bestowed, according to the historian Mariana, in recompense of his zeal
in opposing the doctrine of the two Frenchmen, Pelagio and Helvidio,
whose writings and preachings tended to shake the belief in the
virginity of the Saviour's mother. The occurrence is thus described:

"The night immediately preceding the feast of the Annunciation, the
archbishop entered the church, surrounded by several of the clergy. As
they entered, the cathedral appeared filled with a brilliant light.
Those who accompanied the saint, overcome with terror, turned and fled.
Remaining alone, he advanced to the foot of the high altar, and fell on
his knees; when, on the chair from which it was his custom to deliver
his exhortations to the people,--clothed in more than human
majesty--appeared the mother of Christ, who addressed him in the
following words:--'This gift, brought from Heaven, shall be the reward
of the virginity which thou hast preserved in thy body, joined with
purity of mind, and ardour of faith; and for having defended our
virginity.'

"Having thus spoken, she placed on him, with her own hands, a robe,
which she commanded him to wear on the celebration of her festivals, and
those of her Son."

The representations of this scene, from which is derived the claim of
superior sanctity assumed by this cathedral, are multiplied both in
marble and on canvas in all parts of the edifice, as well as in almost
all the churches of Toledo. In most cases, the execution of them has
been intrusted to unskilful hands. The best specimen is that executed in
marble over the small altar I have just noticed. It is remarkable for
the graceful and good-humoured expression of the Virgin, and the easy,
almost merry, demeanour of her celestial attendants.

The marble box which contains the Host is let into the altar-piece, of
which it appears to form a part of the surface, only projecting slightly
as its sides are convex. Turning on a pivot, it presents four different
fronts, each representing, in well executed relief, a different scene in
the Virgin's life.




LETTER X.

CAFÉS. WEDDING CEREMONY. CATHEDRAL CONTINUED. ALCAZAR HOSPITAL OF SANTA
CRUZ. CONVENT OF LA CONCEPTION. MYSTERIOUS CAVERN. CONVENT OF SANTA FE,
OR OF SANTIAGO. SONS-IN-LAW OF THE CID.


Toledo.

One of the first contrasts between this and other countries, which
forces itself on the observation, is the amalgamation of the different
classes of society in public places of resort. The grandee is far too
sure of his personal importance and consideration, to entertain any fear
of its being diminished by contact with those of inferior rank; and the
peasant is far too proud to importune his superiors by any indiscreet
efforts at familiarity.

At Burgos I found the _Gefe politico_, or governor of the province,
sipping his lemonade in the evening at the _café_; his elbow brushing
the back of a mayoral of a diligence, and surrounded by an assemblage of
all classes of the male inhabitants of the town. These cafés are curious
establishments; they are divided into two classes--the Café, properly
so called, and the Botilleria--in which tea and coffee are not usually
called for, but all the other refreshments of the café; such as
_helados_ (frozen beverages of all sorts), _sorbetes_ (ices), liqueurs,
wines, etc. These latter are the resort, in some towns, of both sexes,
and indeed the cafés also in a less degree. But the etiquette in these
things differs in the different provinces.

At Madrid, where foreign customs first penetrate, ladies are rarely seen
in these resorts; by which they are considerable losers. No doubt, were
the attractions of French cafés sufficiently powerful, your sex would
not have withered them, by their disdain, into the uncivilized dens
which they are. You are not of course invited by the billiard tables, or
by the allurements of black coffee and cognac; but were the waiters to
set before you a tumbler of frozen lemonade after a July evening's dusty
walk, you would speedily bring such habits into fashion.

Much as the refreshments of Spanish cafés have been celebrated, their
fame is surpassed by the reality. It is only when you have panted
through a southern summer's day, and breathed an atmosphere of fire,
that you are disposed to receive the illustration of the full sense of
the word refreshment; and it is then they hand you a brobdignag goblet,
brim full of frozen orange-water or lemonade, or snow-white
orgeat--which, from the imperceptible inroads made by the teaspoon on
its closing-up surface, appears likely to last you the whole night.
These and other similar luxuries, including the ices, at which those of
a Grange or Tortoni would melt with jealousy, are plentiful in second
and third-rate towns, and rank among the necessaries of life, rather
than as objects of indulgence. They are of course cheap, or it would not
answer.

The poor apply to the distributors of iced barley-water, who carry about
a sort of cask, strapped between their shoulders, and containing ice in
the centre, to maintain the frigidity of the beverage. By lowering and
advancing the left shoulder, the vendor pours the contents of the cask
through a small neck or pipe into the glasses, which he carries in a
flat basket with cellaret partitions. A tumbler of this costs a
halfpenny; its imbibing occupies two or three minutes, and assuages for
hours the sufferings of the thirstiest palate.

At Madrid, the cafés have each its political colour; except that called
del Principe, after the adjoining theatre. In this, politics are less
characterised, literature having here taken up her quarters. It is
probable that she is a less profitable customer, being habitually less
thirsty. Accordingly, on putting your head into the door, you see a
saloon far more brilliantly lighted up than the others; but the
peripatetic doctrines seem to prevail. Few persons are seated at the
tables; and instead of the more profitable wear and tear of broken
glasses, the proprietor probably finds substituted a thankless annual
item for worn out floors. In the same street there is a club; but this
is an exotic importation and on the exclusive plan, not quite of London,
but of the Paris _cercles_.

In the cafés of Toledo, on the days of _fiesta_, the fair sex
predominates, especially in summer. The great resort is, however, the
Zocodover, from nine to ten in the evening. This little irregularly
formed _plaza_ is crowded like an assembly-room, and possesses its rows
of trees, although a respectable oak would almost fill it.

A soirée has occasionally been known to be given in Toledo, but it is an
occurrence of much rarity, and mostly occasioned by some unusual
event,--the arrival of a public singer, or, still more unusual, a newly
made fortune. The other evening I was admitted to one, the pretext for
which was a wedding. This ceremony takes place at the residence of the
bride, and although a subsequent formality is necessary in the Church,
its delay does not defer the validity of the union, nor its
consummation. The wedding-day arrived, the families and friends of both
parties assemble at eight in the evening.

The bride was distinguishable by a white veil or _mantilla_ in the
middle seat of a sofa, between her mother and sister, who rose to
receive the guests. A narrow table had been dressed up into a temporary
altar, and furnished with a crucifix and candles. All the party being
arrived, a priest left his chair, and entered an adjoining room to robe;
on his reappearance the company rose and flocked round the bride and
bridegroom, who stood together before the priest, doing penance each
with a long wax-light in the right hand, held in a muslin handkerchief.

The ceremony lasts about ten minutes without any change of posture. The
priest departs to unrobe; the miserable bride and blushing bridegroom
receive felicitations; and all resume their seats, and look at each
other.

Presently chocolate was handed round, and an attempt at conversational
murmur commenced, afterwards ices. And now the minister took a formal
leave of the company, after complimenting the bride. Two or three other
holy men, obedient to the signal, carried out their interminable hats
before them: when a sudden revolution broke out. At the closing of the
door on the hindmost ecclesiastic the bridegroom rushed to the altar,
and grasping with one hand the crucifix, and with the other two of the
candlesticks, ran to the apartment that had assumed the character of
vestry, and deposited them there, followed by officious friends bearing
the remaining articles, until every awe-compelling symbol had
disappeared. One or two guitars were extracted from their hiding-places
under sofas, and sent forth careless but lively preludes. The men stood
up and circulated; the women talked and laughed; a quadrille was
speedily formed, and concluded; waltzing followed, and forfeits, and
whatever you like, and--"the arrangements were on a scale of costly
magnificence, and the festivities were prolonged, &c."

But these events are rare in Toledo. The every-day amusements consist in
an infamous theatre, and the promenade; this is only on Saints' days;
but these are almost every day. On six or seven occasions in the year,
these promenades are absolute events, and much looked forward to. It is
necessary to inquire which is the promenade patronised by the saint of
the great day, whoever he is, and take your place in the tide, for no
one absents himself.

Dresses for these celebrations are things pre-meditated; and the effect
produced, and all the little events and rencontres of the day form for
each belle, thrilling subjects of retrospection. _Mantillas_ may be
trimmed, and innocent plots woven for these occasions, without danger of
disappointment by clouds or storms; and instead of the Virgin being
implored that the sun may shine, who never disappoints them, she is
sometimes requested to inspire some ruse for a momentary escape from his
too searching effulgence.

Here may fair foreigners feast their eyes on fawn-coloured _majos_,
whose every step (although no more exalted beings than butchers,
postilions, horsedealers, and such like) would be envied by Antinous and
Apollo. I should advise no veils, nor winkings, nor blinkings on these
occasions, but eyes wide open--for never more (the Pyrenees once
repassed) will their orbits expand to the forms and costumes of
blackguards half so beautiful.

But these are subjects slightly unsuited to the interior of the
cathedral, of our presence in which we are evidently forgetful. The
Mozarabic Chapel, founded by Cardinal Ximenes de Cisneros, is situated
under the southern tower, and contains a Virgin and Child executed in
Mosaic, and a curious old fresco painting, representing the battle of
Oran, at which the Cardinal was victorious over the Arabs. This chapel
is set apart for the performance of the Mozarabic ritual, still retained
by a portion of the population of Toledo, and the exercise of which was
continued in several churches, until the closing of some of them at the
recent revolution.

The Arab conquerors of Spain exercised towards the religion of the
country, the most complete and liberal tolerance. All who preferred
remaining in the conquered towns to flight and exile, were allowed to
retain a sufficient number of places of worship for the free exercise of
their religion. On the subsequent introduction of the Italian missal,
those who retained the ancient gothic forms were called Mozarabes (mixti
Arabes, according to some, from their service being the same as that in
use during the co-existence together of the two creeds). A more probable
origin is attributed to the expression by some antiquaries, who derive
it from Muza, the name of the Moorish general. The mass of the
Christians who had taken refuge in the Asturias, applied the term to
their brethren, who preferred accepting from the Arabs what they
considered a degrading tolerance. The following singular mode of
decision was adopted for the purpose of settling the question between
the two missals.

The King, Alonzo the Sixth, the Archbishop Don Bernardo, and the court,
were among the advocates of the new missal, which, being adopted in
Rome, they were very desirous of establishing on the occasion of the
restoration of the Christian supremacy at Toledo. The mass of the
people were attached to their ancient forms. It was resolved that the
question should be decided by an appeal to a sort of neutral power; and
Mars was selected, probably on account of his being a person
disinterested in the affair. A champion was chosen by each party, and a
day appointed for settling the difference by single combat. Accordingly,
the court, the clergy, and the people being assembled, the
representatives of the two missals took their station, lance in rest,
and on the appointed signal spurred to the encounter. The ancient missal
was approved of by the warlike god; but the King and his party were
dissatisfied with the result, and resolved on another trial. A large
fire was lighted in the principal plaza, and the two missals were thrown
into it.

Again the ancient forms conquered, the rival parchment having caught the
flame and being drawn out in a blaze. The populace now commenced a cry
of triumph; but, to their great disappointment, the King, in his quality
of umpire, pronounced a judgment which he might as easily have put in
execution before the trials: namely, that considering that the Roman
Missal, although on fire, was not consumed, they were both equally
agreeable to the deity--they should therefore both be preserved, and
that some of the more ancient churches should continue the exercise of
the Mozarabic service, while the Roman ritual should be established in
the metropolitan temple, and in the greater number of the parishes.

Before we leave the cathedral, the cloister claims our attention. It is
a spacious and handsome quadrangle, inclosing a garden. The eastern wall
is adorned with excellent frescos of comparatively modern date, and all
bearing the same signature--Francisco Bayeu. There are seven subjects on
that side, being the number of intervals corresponding with the arcades,
and three more continuing down another side. The best are two, taken
from the history of Saint Casilda; and three from that of San Eugenio,
first archbishop of Toledo, martyrised in France. The arcades on the
east side are shut in by large pieces of sail-cloth, in order to protect
the paintings against the sun's rays.

The library of manuscripts belonging to this cathedral is distinguished
rather by the quality than the quantity of its contents. It is
approached by a staircase communicating with the cloister, and is a
handsome room. It contains a copy of the Talmud on the papyrus leaves,
and in the Coptic dialect. The following are also among its treasures:
The Book of Esther in Hebrew, on a single piece of parchment; two
bibles of the seventh century, one of which belonged to St. Isidore; the
missal used by Charles the Fifth in the monastery of Yuste; the poems of
Dante, manuscript of the poet's time, with illustrations; the laws of
Alonso the Tenth (surnamed the wise), and a volume of his poetical
works, with the music opposite those intended to be sung: two ancient
Chinese volumes, one on botany, the other on natural history, both
illustrated.

The next edifice I visited was the Alcazar, the largest and most
conspicuous building in Toledo. I expected to find there some Arab and
Roman remains, having so read in more than one tour. It was not until
some time after my visit that I obtained the information that the
Moorish palace occupied a different site. The present comparatively
modern building is principally of two epochs. On the east is the
original portion erected by Alonzo the Sixth. The entire north and south
fronts are probably additions of Philip the Second. The whole partakes
of a divided character between castle and palace: it is not remarkable
for any architectural merit, possessing neither beauty as a palace, nor
solidity as a fortress; and having been occupied as a military position
during the war of the succession, and more recently in that of
independence, its being already a ruin, before its modern appearance
would seem to legitimize such a state, causes no surprise. But its
position is superb. Occupying the most elevated point of the town, it
far exceeds the whole by the immense height of its walls, and commands
an admirable view of the surrounding country. The only object deserving
notice in this ruin is a colossal staircase, which occupies an entire
side of the court,--a length of about two hundred and fifty feet,--and
is ornamented by a light and elegant colonnade. This edifice ceased to
be a palace on the final establishment of the court at Madrid, and after
some time became the manufactory whence issued the famous silk and
velvet brocades, the fabrication of which has now ceased, but with which
Toledo formerly supplied the wardrobes of the court, and the
well-garnished sacristies of Spain's wealthiest cathedrals.

Descending from the Alcazar through the Plaza de Zocodover, and thence
towards the bridge of Alcantara, a few yards from the Plaza bring us in
view of the façade of the Hospital of Santa Cruz, or "de los niños
expositos,"--foundling hospital. The institution owes its origin to the
Archbishop, Don Pedro Gonzalez de Mendoza, called the Great Cardinal of
Spain. Although death prevented his witnessing the execution of his
project, his fortune, administered by his next relatives and
executors,--the Queen Isabella, and the Duke of Infantado,--was
employed in the erection of the buildings, and in the endowment of the
establishment. The plans and conditions were not even drawn up until
after the Cardinal's death; and they were never entirely put in
execution. The church consists of one nave, of a length out of all
proportion to its width and elevation. It was to have been crossed by
another of the same proportions, with the exception of the elevation,
which was to have been eighty feet in both. This combined with the
length--about three hundred and fifty feet, as is seen in the existing
nave,--would have rendered the edifice one of the most extraordinary in
existence. The altar was to have stood in the centre of the intersection
of the two naves. As it is, the long bare interior looks as though it
had been destined for a picture gallery or library, but rather for the
latter from the low-coved roof of cedar, and from the inadequate
distribution of light. To the left of the altar is seen a portrait of
the founder; and on the opposite side, about a hundred feet further down
the nave, a large Adoration,--a superior painting, especially with
regard to the colouring: the author unknown.

There are two large courts surrounded by arcades: one of them is a model
of lightness and beauty, and contains in one of its angles an admirably
ornamented staircase. The architect of the Santa Cruz was Enrique Egas,
who also built the celebrated hospital of the same name at Valladolid.
He designed the whole according to the style then introduced, after the
pointed style had been abandoned, and which in Spain received vulgarly
the appellation of Plateresco, from the ornaments resembling the
embossing of a silversmith. It is also confounded with the Renacimiento.
The Plateresco style, from the too great liberty it afforded the
architect, of setting aside the classic models, and following his own
inventions, has produced in Spain, more than in any other country, (from
there being at that period more wealth devoted to the construction of
public monuments there than elsewhere,) the evil effects resulting from
ill-guided and unrestrained powers of imagination. Fortunately, however,
a few architects existed whose more correct taste kept them within some
bounds; and who, in deserting the old models, replaced them by a style,
if less pure, yet by no means inelegant. The architect Egas appears to
have partaken of both natures at different moments; for, while his court
above-mentioned is a specimen of consummate grace and good taste, the
entrance front of the building is one of the bad examples of the style
of the period.

The establishment covers a large space, about half the extent occupied
by the double palace of the Arab kings of Toledo. The remainder of the
site contains two convents,--that of Santiago, and that of the
Conception. The hospital was conducted formerly on a scale proportionate
to the extent of its accommodation; but it is now no more than a
reminiscence; the revenues having probably been incorporated in the
recent registrations of national property. The number of inmates at
present enjoying the benefits of the foundation amounts to fourteen
only.

The Convent of la Conception adjoins the hospital of Santa Cruz. From
the exterior are seen two churches, placed in close parallel contact,
and each composed of a single nave. Both are evidently very ancient, one
being in the Arab style; but the form of the other renders it probable
that it is the more ancient of the two. You are disappointed after being
shown this last, on being informed that the Moorish portion is forbidden
ground, being appropriated by the nuns to their private use, and
possessing no communication with the adjoining edifice, but a curtained
grating, through which its secluded inmates assist at religious
services. In the public church, a singular ornament figures on a
conspicuous part of the wall near the entrance; it is the carcass of a
large crocodile, fixed high enough to be out of reach, although no one
would be likely to purloin so unwieldy a curiosity. We are told the
animal frequented the neighbourhood of Toledo; where, under cover of the
pine forests, which formerly extended far over this mountainous region,
its existence had long filled with terror the few travellers whom their
mercantile pursuits compelled to pass within its accustomed haunts: that
at length a knight (it was in the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella)
clothed in a full suit of armour, rode forth from Toledo, fully resolved
to try conclusions with the monster, in order if possible to immortalize
his name throughout the surrounding regions, by ridding them of so dire
a scourge. The battle took place, and victory declaring for the knight,
whose name unfortunately does not figure in the legend,--he assembled
the peasants, and had his enemy's carcass borne in triumph to Toledo,
where he made a present of it to the convent.

While on the subject of traditions, it is worth while adverting to a
cavern, the entrance of which exists in this part of the town; and which
is said to extend to a distance of eight miles, passing under the Tagus.
It is related that somewhat less than a century back, the government
ordered this cavern to be explored; but the exploring party was met at
the commencement of the descent by so violent a gust of wind, as to
extinguish all the torches, and the courage of the explorers, for the
attempt was never resumed. The failure by no means contributed to
diminish the mysterious qualities attributed to the cavern, on the
subject of which the wildest notions are currently entertained.

A worthy and excellent native of Toledo, to whose antiquarian enthusiasm
(a quality doubly valuable here from its scarcity) I am indebted for
some information and much entertainment, undertook one day to enlighten
me with regard to the origin of this subterranean curiosity. Commencing
by warning my credulity against the innumerable fables current on the
subject, and which only resembled each other in their absurdity and
impossibility, he added, "The real fact is this,--the cavern is the work
of Hercules, who excavated it for the accommodation of the assemblies of
the people, whom he instructed in the elements of magic."

The convent of Santiago, or of Santa Fé, or of Las monjas santiagistas,
or Las cavalleras, occupies the portion of the ancient Moorish alcazar,
remaining from the site of the two last-mentioned buildings. It is built
round two courts, one of which is divided into planted parterres,
intersected with brick-paved walks. The architecture of this first court
is very simple; it consists of a plain arcade of semicircular arches
supported on square piers, and a repetition of the same on the first
story. From this court opens the parlour of the Commendadora or abbess,
and the choir, which forms a continuation of the public chapel. There is
also under the arcade a folding door, which, when opened exhibits a
collection of small pictures attached to it, as on the leaves of an
album, and others suspended against the portion of wall it encloses. The
centre painting of these last represents the Mater dolorosa weeping over
the dead body of her Son. It has much of the manner of Alonzo Cano, and
is an admirable painting, more especially the dead body: the superior,
however, did not know the name of the artist. She complained bitterly of
the loss of a first-rate picture of the Divino Morales, which formerly
occupied the place of her little collection, and which was taken
possession of by Marshal Soult.

The second court is highly ornamental owing to the elegance of its
architecture, and its magnificent proportions; it is a long quadrangle;
the pillars below are very lofty, and support the gallery above without
intermediate arches. They are not of a pure design, the shafts being too
long for their diameter: in other respects they imitate the Tuscan
order. Those of the arcade above are Ionic; but the effect here is
destroyed by walls and windows, which have been constructed in their
intervals, for the purpose of converting the open gallery into a warmer
corridor. The walls below are clothed to the height of about four feet
with the _azulejos_, or porcelain mosaic, of the sort originally
employed by the Arabs, and from which the ornament took its name, being
blue and white, without any other colour.

Opening from this court is the Sala Capitular a handsome saloon used on
occasions of elections of the Commendadora, or other solemnities, which
do not take place in the church. It contains a portrait of the sister of
St. Ferdinand,--a member of the community; and a curious picture of St.
Iago leading to victory the christian army of Don Ramiro the First. In
fulfilment of a promise made to the king the night preceding the battle
of Albayde, the apostle, according to the historians, led the army in
person, mounted on a milk-white charger, which cantered along at a
sufficient elevation over the heads of the combatants, to be visible to
all; thus inspiring, simultaneously, his _protégés_ with confidence, and
the Moors with terror. From that victory the Spanish war-cry of Santiago
is said to derive its origin.

The buildings on the north side of the large court stand on the brink of
a perpendicular rock, overhanging the _faubourg_ on the Madrid side of
Toledo, and commanding right and left the luxuriant _vega_, to an extent
of from forty to fifty miles. Over the highest story of this portion of
the building, and forming a continuation of the rock, a Belvidere has
been constructed, the roof of which is supported by piers, leaving all
the sides open: it forms a promenade of about a hundred feet in length,
by twenty-five in width.

The regulations of this convent are much less strict than those observed
by all other religious communities. It would not otherwise have been
possible to obtain permission to visit the establishment in detail. The
_monjas cavalleras_ (knight-nuns) of the military order of Santiago,
take the white veil only, and not the black. If a nun inherits a
property, she obtains permission from the council of military orders,
sitting at Madrid, to absent herself from the convent for the purpose of
transacting all necessary business. The same permission may be obtained
in cases of illness. In taking the vows there is no prostration beneath
the veil. The novice crosses her hands in a kneeling posture, and takes
the oath on the Gospel. One is struck by something invincibly puzzling
in this amalgamation of military regulation with religious hierarchy and
female seclusion. They call themselves knights; their abbess, commander.
The king, as Grand Master of the military orders (since Ferdinand the
Fifth) of Calatrava, Alcantara, and Santiago, is their recognised chief;
and whenever military mass is required to be performed, the troops march
into their chapel to beat of drum.

I was even assured that these recluses are not obliged to refuse a hand
offered for a waltz, if it belongs to an arm having an epaulette at its
other extremity; and that such scenes are known to occur in the presence
of the commandress herself.

Our party, formed for the visit to this convent, having been presented
to the superior, she gave directions to a nun to show us every part of
the establishment. This sister, who, we were told, bore the title and
rank of serjeantess (sargenta), possessed the remains of great beauty,
and her (probably) forty summers had not injured her commanding and
graceful figure. No sooner had she ushered us into the choir than she
left us for an instant, and returned with her mantle of ceremony,--the
costume in which they take the vow, and in which they appear on all
occasions of solemnity. It was with evident satisfaction that she
performed this part of her duties of cicerone; nor was it to be wondered
at. No costume could have been invented better calculated to set off her
natural advantages. It is composed of a sort of white serge, and
appears to have no seam. Attached round the shoulders it sweeps the
ground with a train of four or five feet. A cross of scarlet cloth,
bound with dark brown edges, and of a graceful form, figures on the
portion which covers the left arm from the shoulder to the elbow. The
white cap, gathered all over into minute plaits, rises into two parallel
ridges, which passing over to the back of the head, imitate the form of
a helmet. Two large lappets descend to the shoulders and complete the
costume, which is entirely white, with the exception of the cross. In
walking round the choir to display to us the effect of this dress, the
fair _santiagista_ was a model of majesty and grace.

To judge from her replies to our questions, it would appear that the
system of softening the severity of monastic seclusion, and of partial
and occasional communication with the beings of the outer world, instead
of producing more contentment in the minds of the recluses, may possibly
tend to unsettle them, and render them more dissatisfied with their lot.
When asked how long she had inhabited the convent, she replied with an
unrestrained and most pathetic inflation of the chest, more eloquent
than the loudest complaint--"A very long time; nearly twenty years." The
white mantle, she told us, was an object the sight of which always gave
birth to serious reflections; since it was destined not even to quit her
after death, but to serve also for her shroud.

[Illustration: COSTUME OF A MILITARY NUN.]

The nun's choir is entirely separated from the public chapel, with the
exception of two gratings, which admit to the latter the sound of the
organ, and through which the nuns have a better view of the church than
the public can obtain of the choir, this being less lighted, and on a
lower level. Near the choir a small oratory of no greater dimensions
than about seven feet square, appears to be the only remains extant of
the Arab buildings, which occupied the site. The ceiling is
hemispherical, and ornamented in the Arab style; and one of the walls
contains a niche surrounded by Arab tracery. I should mention likewise a
fountain in the garden, which bears a similar character.

These nuns live less in community with each other than those of other
convents; in fact, their life resembles in many respects that of
independent single ladies. Each inhabits her own suite of apartments,
and keeps her own servant. Her solitary repasts are prepared in her own
separate kitchen, and at the hour chosen by herself. Once a-year only,
on the occasion of the festival of the patron Apostle, the community
assembles at dinner. The common refectory is at present let to
strangers, together with other portions of the convent. The novice who
wishes to enter this convent must be of good family, (proof of noble
descent being demanded up to grand-fathers and grandmothers inclusive)
and possessed of property. Of the entrance of the present _commendadora_
into the convent thirty years since, a romantic story is related. She
belongs to a family of rank in the province of La Mancha,--and it is
worth mentioning, that she recollects Espartero's father, who, as she
states, served a neighbouring family in the capacity of cowherd.

A match, _de convenance_, had been arranged for her by her parents, on
the accomplishment of which they insisted the more rigidly from her
being known to entertain an attachment, the object of which was
disapproved. No resistance being of any avail, the wedding-day was
named; and she was taken to Toledo for the purpose of making the
necessary purchases for the occasion. It so happened that she was
received by a relative, a member of the community of Santiagistas; and
whether she confided her pains to the bosom of this relative, and
yielded to her persuasions--nuns being usually given to proselytism; or
perhaps acting on the impulse of the moment; she declared on the morning
after her arrival her resolution never to quit the convent; preferring,
as she resolutely affirmed, an entire life of seclusion, to an union
with a man she detested. Instead, therefore, of the wedding dresses, a
_manton capitular_ was the only ornament purchased.

The property of this establishment remaining for the most part in
possession of the respective original possessors, and not forming a
common stock, the conscientious scruples of the revolution made an
exception in its favour, owing to which it is not reduced to so
destitute a condition as that of the other unclosed convents. The nuns
of San Clemente--the principal convent of Toledo, and of which the
abbess alone possessed private property, are reduced to a life of much
privation, as are also those of all the other convents. Some obtain
presents in return for objects of manual industry, such as dolls'
chairs, and other similar toys. Those of San Clemente had, and still
have, a reputation for superior skill in confectionary. A specimen of
their talent, of which I had an opportunity of judging in the house of a
friend of the abbess, appeared to me to warrant the full extent of their
culinary fame. They do not, however, exercise this art for gain. At San
Clemente, and no doubt at all the others, the new government--besides
the confiscation of all rents and possessions in money and land--seized
the provisions of corn and fruits which they found on searching the
attics of the building.

Immediately below the ruined modern Alcazar, and facing the Expositos,
is seen a vast quadrangular building, each front of which presents from
twenty to thirty windows on a floor. It is without ornament, and is
entered by a square doorway, which leads to an interior court. It is now
an inn, called Fonda de la Caridad, but was originally the residence of
the Cid, who built it simultaneously with the erection of the Alcazar,
by Alonzo the Sixth, shortly after the taking of the town; Ruy Diaz
being at that time in high favour, and recently appointed first Alcalde
of Toledo, and governor of the palace. It was on the occasion of the
first cortez held in this town, that the hero demanded a formal audience
of Alonzo, in which he claimed justice against his two sons-in-law, the
counts of Carrion.

These were two brothers, who had married the two Countesses of Bivar. On
the occasion of the double marriage, a brilliant party had assembled at
the Cid's residence, where all sorts of festivities had succeeded each
other. The two bridegrooms, finding themselves, during their presence in
this knightly circle, in positions calculated to test their mettle,
instead of proving themselves, by a display of unequalled valour and
skill, to be worthy of the choice by which they had been distinguished,
gave frequent proofs of deficiency in both qualities; and, long before
the breaking up of the party, their cowardice had drawn upon them
unequivocal signs of contempt from many of the company, including even
their host. Obliged to dissimulate their vexation as long as they
remained at the château of the Cid, they concerted a plan of vengeance
to be put in execution on their departure.

They took formal leave, and departed with their brides for their
estate, followed by a brilliant suite. No sooner, however, had they
reached the first town, than, inventing a pretext, they despatched all
the attendants by a different route, and proceeded on their journey,
only accompanied by their wives. Towards evening the road brought them
to a forest, which appeared to offer facilities for putting their
project in execution. Here they quitted the highway, and sought a
retired situation.

It happened that an attendant of the Countesses, surprised at the
determination of the party to divide routes, had been led by curiosity
to follow them unobserved. This follower, after having waited some time
for their return to the high-road, penetrated into the midst of the
wood, in order to discover the cause of the delay. He found the two
brides lying on the ground, almost without clothing, and covered with
blood, and learned that they had just been left by their husbands, who
had been scourging them almost to death.

It was against the perpetrators of this outrage that the Cid pleaded for
justice. A certain number of nobles were selected by Alonzo, and
directed to give a decision after hearing the accusation and the
defence. The offence being proved, the Counts had nothing to urge in
extenuation, and judgment was pronounced. All the sums of money,
treasures, gold and silver vases and goblets, and precious stones,
given by the Cid with his daughters as their dowry, to be restored; and
(at the request of Ruy Diaz) the two Counts of Carrion, and their uncle,
who had advised them to commit the act, were condemned to enter the
lists against three of the followers of the Cid. The last decision was
momentarily evaded by the Counts; who urged, that, having come to Toledo
to be present at the cortez, they were unprovided with the necessary
accoutrements. The King, however, insisted that they should not escape
so mild a punishment, and repaired himself to Carrion, where he
witnessed the combat, in which, it is needless to add, the culprits came
off second best. The marriages being, at the same time, declared null,
the Cid's daughters were shortly afterwards married a second time; the
eldest, Doña Elvira, to Don Ramiro, son of Sancho, King of Navarre; and
the younger, Doña Sol, to Don Pedro, hereditary Prince of Aragon.




LETTER XI.

STREETS OF TOLEDO. EL AMA DE CASA. MONASTERY OF SAN JUAN DE LOS REYES.
PALACE OF DON HURTADO DE MENDOZA.


Toledo.

We will now hasten to the opposite extremity of the city, where the
monastery of San Juan de los Reyes lays claim to especial interest. But
I already hear you cry for mercy, and exclaim against these endless
convents and monasteries; the staircases, courts, and corridors of which
cause more fatigue to your imagination, than to the limbs of those who,
however laboriously, explore their infinite details. Infinite they are,
literally, in Toledo; where the churches, the greater number of which
belong to convents, are not seen, as elsewhere, scattered singly among
the masses of the habitations, but are frequently to be found in
clusters of three or four, whether united by the same walls, or facing
each other at the two sides of a street. It may, perhaps, afford you a
short relief to pick your way over the somewhat rugged pavement of a
few of the Toledo streets, and take a survey of the exterior town, which
our present destination requires us to traverse in its entire extent. I
must inform you that, for the success of this enterprise, the stranger
stands in absolute need of a pilot, without whose assistance his
embarrassments would be endless.

Toledo scarcely boasts a street in which two vehicles could meet and
continue their route. Most are impassable for a single cart; and, in
more than one, I have found it impossible to carry an open umbrella.
Such being the prevailing width of the streets, their tortuous direction
causes a more serious inconvenience. He who has attempted the task of
Theseus, in the mazes of some modern garden labyrinth, will comprehend
the almost inevitable consequence of relying on his own wits for finding
his way about Toledo,--namely, the discovery that he has returned to his
point of departure at the moment he imagined that half the town
separated him from it. This result is the more favoured by the
similarity of the streets and houses. No such thing as a land-mark. All
the convents are alike. You recollect at a particular turning, having
observed a Moorish tower; consequently, at the end of the day, the sight
of the Moorish tower leads you on, buoyed up by doubly elevated
spirits, in the required direction, most anxious to bring the tiring
excursion to a close: but this tower leads you to the opposite extremity
of the city to that you seek, for there are half a dozen Moorish towers,
all alike, or with but a trifling difference in their construction.

Nor is this obstacle to solitary exploration unaccompanied by another
inconvenience. I allude to the continual ascents and descents. The
surface of the mountain on which Toledo is built, appears to have been
ploughed by a hundred earthquakes, so cut and hacked is it, to the
exclusion of the smallest extent of level ground. To carry a railroad
across it, would require an uninterrupted succession of alternate
viaducts and tunnels. In consequence of this peculiarity, the losing
one's way occasions much fatigue. To do justice to the inhabitants, an
almost universal cleanliness pervades the town,--an excellence the
attainment of which is not easy in a city so constructed, and which
gives a favourable impression of the population. It is one of the towns
in which is proved the possibility of carrying on a successful war
against the vermin for which the Peninsula has acquired so bad a
reputation, by means of cleanliness maintained in the houses.

In the house I inhabited on my arrival, I had suspected for some days an
unusual neglect in the duties of the housemaid, to whose department it
belonged to sweep the _esteras_ or matting, which serve for carpets,
from the circumstance of my having been visited by one or two unwelcome
tormentors. I ventured a gentle remonstrance to the _ama_ (landlady),
stating my reasons for the suspicion I entertained. It happened that on
the previous day I had mentioned my having been shown over the
Archbishop's palace. This she had not forgotten; for with a superb
coolness, scarcely to be met with out of Spain, she replied, "Fleas! oh,
no! sir! we have none here,--you must have brought them with you from
the Palace." Satisfied, however, with having maintained her dignity of
landlady, she took care to have the nuisance removed.

This _ama_, as may be already judged, was a curiosity. In the first
place, she was a dwarf. The Spaniards are not, generally speaking, a
more diminutive race than the other inhabitants of Southern Europe: but
when a Spaniard, especially a woman, takes it into her head to be small,
they go beyond other nations. Nowhere are seen such prodigies of
exiguity. The lady was, moreover, deformed, one of her legs describing a
triangle, which compelled her in walking to imitate the sidelong
progress of a crab. Possessed of these peculiarities she had attained,
as spinster, that very uncertain age called by some "certain," but
agreed by all to be nearer the end than the commencement of life.

Although not an exception, with regard to temper, to the generality of
those whose fate it is to endure such a complication of ills, she
nevertheless on frequent occasions gave way to much amiability, and
especially to much volubility of discourse. She was not without a tinge
of sentimentality; and when seated, fan in hand, and the _mantilla
puesta_, on one of the chairs shorn of almost their entire legs, which
were to be found in all parts of the house,--she made by no means a bad
half-length representation of a fine lady.

She had apparently experienced some of the sorrows and disappointments
incident to humanity; and on such occasions had frequently, no doubt,
formed the resolution of increasing, although in a trifling degree, some
religious sisterhood, of which establishments she had so plentiful a
choice in her native city; but, whether on a nearer approach, she had
considered the veil an unbecoming costume, or her resolution had failed
her on the brink of the living tomb, the project had not as yet taken
effect. The turn, however, thus given to her reflections and inquiries,
had perfected in her a branch of knowledge highly useful to strangers
who might be thrown in her way. She was a limping encyclopedia of the
convents and monasteries of Toledo; and could announce each morning,
with the precision of an almanack, the name of the saint of the day,--in
what church or convent he was especially fêted, and at what hour the
ceremony would take place. She was likewise _au fait_ of the foundation,
ancient and modern annals, and peculiarities of every sort which belong
to every religious establishment of the many scores existing in Toledo.
Her administration of the household affairs was admirably organized
owing to her energetic activity. Her love of cleanliness would
frequently induce her to take the sweeping department into her own
hands--a circumstance which was sure to render the operation doubly
successful, for the brooms, which in Toledo are not provided with
handles or broomsticks, were exactly of a length suited to her stature.
Before we take leave of her, here is one more of her original replies.

I complained to her at breakfast that the eggs were not as fresh as
usual; and, suiting the action to the word, approached the egg-cup
containing the opened one so near to her, that the organs of sight and
smell could not but testify to the justice of my _reclamation_.
Shrugging her shoulders, until they almost reached the level of the
table--and with much contempt depicted on her countenance: "How could it
be otherwise?" she exclaimed, "the egg was taken a quarter of an hour
ago from under the hen; but you have broken it at the wrong end."

The monastery called San Juan de los Reyes, was founded by Ferdinand and
Isabella, on their return from the conquest of Granada, and given to a
fraternity of Franciscan friars. An inscription to this effect in gothic
characters runs round the cloister walls, where it forms a sort of
frieze, in a line with the capitals of the semi-columns. The inhabited
part of the establishment is in a state of complete ruin, having been
destroyed by the French during the Peninsular War. The cloisters are,
likewise, in a semi-ruinous state: the part best preserved being the
church; although that was not entirely spared, as may be supposed from
its having been used as cavalry stables.

The choice of a situation for the erection of this convent was perfect
in the then flourishing state of Toledo; and, even now, its picturesque
position lends a charm to the melancholy and deserted remains still
visible of its grandeur and beauty. It stands on the brow of the cliff,
commanding the termination of the chasm already described as commencing
at the bridge of Alcantara. It commands, therefore, the ruins of
Roderick's palace, placed a few hundred yards further on, and on a lower
level; still lower the picturesque bridge of St. Martin, striding to
the opposite cliff, over arches of ninety feet elevation, and the lovely
_vega_ which stretches to the west.

[Illustration: CHURCH OF SAN JUAN DE LOS REYES.]

This monastery was one of the most favoured amongst the numerous royal
endowments of that period. It is said that its foundation was the result
of a vow pronounced by Ferdinand and the Queen before the taking of
Granada. In addition to the scale of magnificence adopted throughout the
entire plan, the royal founders, on its completion, bestowed a highly
venerated donation--the collection of chains taken from the limbs of the
Christian captives, rescued by them from the dungeons of the Alhambra.
They are suspended on the outside walls of the two sides of the
north-eastern angle of the church, and are made to form a frieze, being
placed in couples crossing each other at an acute angle; while those
that remained are suspended vertically in rows by fours or fives, in the
intervals of the pilastres.

The interior of the church is still sufficiently entire to give some
idea of its original splendour. Its dimensions are rather more than two
hundred feet in length, by eighty in width, and as many in
height--excepting over the intersection of the nave and transept, where
the ceiling rises to a hundred and eight feet. These dimensions are
exclusive of three recesses on either side, forming chapels open to the
nave, there being no lateral naves or aisles. The style of the whole is
very ornamental; but the east end is adorned with an unusual profusion
of sculpture. The transept is separated from the eastern extremity of
the building, by a space no greater than would suffice for one of the
arches; and its ends form the lines, which being prolonged, constitute
the backs of the chapels. The royal arms, supported by spread eagles,
are repeated five times on each end-wall; separated respectively by
statues of saints in their niches, and surmounted by a profusion of rich
tracery. These subjects entirely cover the walls to a height of about
forty feet, at which elevation another inscription in honour of the
founders runs round the whole interior. The transepts not being formed
by open arches, the sides afford space for a repetition of the same
ornament, until at their junction with the nave they are terminated by
two half-piers covered with tracery, and surmounted by semi-octagonal
balconies, beneath which the initials of Ferdinand and Isabella, made to
assume a fancy shape, and surmounted by coronets, are introduced with
singularly graceful effect.

But the chief attraction of this ruin is the cloister. A small
quadrangle is surrounded by an ogival or pointed arcade, enriched with
all the ornament that style is capable of receiving. It encloses a
garden, which, seen through the airy-web of the surrounding tracery,
must have produced in this sunny region a charming effect. At present,
one side being in ruins and unroofed, its communication with the other
three has been interrupted; and, whether or not in the idea of
preserving the other sides from the infection, their arches have been
closed nearly to the top by thin plaister walls. Whatever may have been
the motive of this arrangement, it answers the useful purpose of
concealing from the view a gallery which surmounts the cloister, the
arches of which would neutralize the souvenirs created by the rest of
the scene, since they announce a far different epoch of art, by the
grievous backsliding of taste evinced in their angular form and uncouth
proportions.

[Illustration: CLOISTER OF SAN JUAN DE LOS REYES, TOLEDO.]

Until the destruction of the monastery by the French, the number of
monks was very considerable; and in consequence of the unusual
privileges accorded to their body, had become the objects of especial
veneration. A curious proof of this still exists in the form of a
printed paper, pasted on one of the doors in the interior of the church,
and no doubt preserved carefully by the fifteen or sixteen brothers, who
continued after the dispersion of the rest to inhabit the few
apartments, which, by their situation over the cloister, had escaped the
flames; and who were only finally compelled to evacuate their retreat on
the occasion of the general convent crusade of the late revolution. It
is an announcement of indulgences, of which the following is the opening
paragraph:--

"Indulgence and days of pardon to be gained by kissing the robe of the
brothers of San Francisco.

"All the faithful gain, for each time that they kiss the aforesaid holy
robe with devotion of heart, two thousand and seventy-five days of
Indulgence. Further than this, whosoever of the faithful shall kiss the
aforesaid holy robe devoutly, gains each time eight thousand one hundred
days of pardon. The which urges to the exercise of this devotion the
Princes, Kings, Emperors, Bishops, and highest dignitaries of the
Church, and the monks of other religious orders; and even those of the
same order gain the same, according to the doctrine of Lantusca, who
writes, 'Videant religiosi quantum thesaurum portent secum.' Since those
who with hearts filled with lowliness and love, bend the knees to kiss
the precious garment, which opens to so many souls the entrance to
Heaven, leading them aside from the paths of perdition, with trembling
and terror of the entire hosts of hell, are doubtless those who gain the
above-mentioned Indulgences, &c."

Cardinal Ximenes had assumed the habit of this monastery before his
nomination to the see of Toledo.

Among the numerous relics of the ancient prosperity of this ruinous
corner of Toledo, are seen the walls of the palace of Don Juan Hurtado
de Mendoza. To them were confided the secret murmurings of Charles the
Fifth's vexation, when, elated with his Italian successes--lord of the
greatest empire of Christendom, and flattered by the magnificent
hospitality of the Genoese, he only resorted hither to be bearded by his
Spanish vassals, and to hear his request for supplies unceremoniously
refused. Although monarch of nearly half Europe, and, better still, of
Mexico and Peru, that sovereign appears to have undergone the torments
of a constantly defective exchequer.

His armies were not numerous for such an empire, and yet they were
frequently in revolt for arrears of pay. Could at that time the inventor
of a constitution on the modern principle have presented himself to
Charles, with what treasures would he not have rewarded him? On his
arrival in Spain, in the autumn of 1538, the emperor convoked the cortez
in Toledo, "for the purpose of deliberation on the most grave and urgent
causes, which obliged him to request of his faithful vassals an
inconsiderable contribution, and of receiving the assurance of the
desire with which he was animated, of diminishing their burdens as soon
as circumstances should enable him to do so." All assembled on the
appointed day--the prelates, the grandees, the knights, the deputies of
cities and towns. The opening session took place in the great salon of
the house of Don Juan Hurtado de Mendoza, Count of Melita, in which the
emperor had taken up his abode; and two apartments in the convent of San
Juan de los Reyes, were prepared for the remaining meetings--one for the
ecclesiastical body, presided by the Cardinal de Tavera, archbishop of
Toledo, accompanied by Fray Garcia de Loaysa, cardinal, and confessor of
the emperor, afterwards Archbishop of Seville--the other for the lay
members of the cortez.

Although an adept at dissimulation, what must have been the impatience
of Charles, while under the necessity of listening, day after day, to
reports of speeches pronounced by the independent members of his _junta_
on the subject of his unwelcome proposition, without the consolation of
foreseeing that the supplies would eventually be forthcoming. The
orators did not spare him. The historian, Mariana, gives at full length
the speech of the condestable Don Velasco, Duke of Frias, a grandee
enjoying one of the highest dignities at the court, who commences by
declaring that, "with respect to the Sisa," (tax on provisions, forming
the principal subject of the emperor's demand,) "each of their
lordships, being such persons as they were, would understand better than
himself this business: but what he understood respecting it was, that
nothing could be more contrary to God's service, and that of his
Majesty, and to the good of these kingdoms of Castile, of which they
were natives, and to their honour, than the Sisa;" and, further on,
proposes that a request be made to his Majesty, that he would moderate
his expenditure, which was greater than that of the Catholic kings.

On an address to this effect being presented to the emperor, he replied,
that "he thanked them for their kind intentions; but that his request
was for present aid, and not for advice respecting the future:" and
finding, at length, that no Sisa was to be obtained, he ordered the
archbishop to dissolve the _junta_, which he did in the following
words:--"Gentlemen,--his Majesty says, that he convoked your lordships'
assembly for the purpose of communicating to you his necessities, and
those of these kingdoms, since it appeared to him that, as they were
general, such also should be the remedy; but seeing all that has been
done, it appears to him that there is no need of detaining your
lordships, but that each of you may go to his house, or whither he may
think proper."

It must be confessed that the grandees, who had on this occasion
complained of Charles's foreign expeditions, and neglect of his Spanish
dominions, did not pursue the system best calculated to reconcile him to
a residence among them. Instead of taking advantage of the opportunities
afforded by social intercourse, for making amends for the repulse he had
suffered from the cortez, they appeared desirous of rendering the amount
of humiliation which awaited him in Spain a counterpoise to his triumphs
in his other dominions. On the close of the above-mentioned session, a
tournament was celebrated in the _vega_ of Toledo. On arriving at the
lists, an _alguacil_ of the court, whose duty it was to clear the way
on the emperor's approach--seeing the Duke de l'Infantado in the way,
requested him to move on, and on his refusal struck his horse with his
staff. The duke drew his sword and cut open the officer's head. In the
midst of the disturbance occasioned by the incident, the _alcalde_
Ronquillo came up, and attempted to arrest the duke in the emperor's
name--when the constable, Duke de Frias, who had just ridden to the
scene of bustle, reining in his horse, exclaimed, "I, in virtue of my
office, am chief minister of justice in these kingdoms, and the duke is,
therefore, my prisoner;" and addressing himself to the alcalde: "know
better another time, on what persons you may presume to exercise your
authority." The duke left the ground in company of the last speaker, and
was followed by all the nobles present, leaving the emperor entirely
unaccompanied. It appears that no notice was taken by Charles of this
insult; his manner towards the Duke of Infantado on the following day
being marked by peculiar condescension, and all compensation to the
wounded _alguacil_ left to the duke's generosity.

The personal qualities of this prince, as a monarch, appear to have been
overrated in some degree in his own day; but far more so by subsequent
writers. The brilliancy of his reign, and the homage which surrounded
his person were due to the immense extent of his dominions; and would
never have belonged to him, any more than the states of which he was in
possession, had their attainment depended in any degree on the exercise
of his individual energies. When in the prime of youth, possessed of
repeated opportunities of distinguishing himself at the head of his
armies, he kept aloof, leaving the entire conduct of the war to his
generals. His rival, Francis the First, wounded at Pavia in endeavouring
to rally his flying troops, and at length taken prisoner while half
crushed beneath his dead horse, was greater--as he stood before the
hostile general, his tall figure covered with earth and blood--than the
absent emperor, who was waiting at Valladolid for the news of the war.

Nor were the qualities of the statesman more conspicuous than those of
the warrior on this occasion. Having received the intelligence of his
victory, and of the capture of his illustrious prisoner, he took no
measures--gave no orders. To his general every thing was left; and when
the captive King was, at his own request, conveyed some time after to
Spain, the astonished emperor had received no previous notice of his
coming. He allowed himself to be out-manoeuvred in the treaty for the
liberation of his prisoner; and when Francis broke the pledge he had
given for the restitution of Burgundy, he took no steps to enforce the
execution of the stipulations; and he ultimately gave up the two French
princes, who remained in his power as hostages, in return for a sum of
money.

Far from maintaining the superiority in European councils due to his
extensive dominions, the Italian republics were only prevented with the
greatest difficulty, and by the continual presence of armies, from
repeatedly declaring for France: and even the popes, to whom he paid
continual court, manifested the small estimation in which they held his
influence by constantly deserting his cause in favour of Francis,--the
cause of the champion of Christianity in favour of the ally of the
Infidel, and _that_ frequently in defiance of good faith; shewing how
little they feared the consequences of the imperial displeasure.

If these facts fail in affording testimony to his energy and capacity,
still less does his character shine in consistency. He professed an
unceasing ardour in the cause of Christianity; offering to the French
king the renunciation of his rights, and a release from that monarch's
obligations to him, on condition of his joining him in an expedition
against the Infidels; but when he found himself at the head of an
immense army under the walls of Vienna, he sat still and allowed
Solyman to carry off at his leisure the spoils of the principal towns of
Hungary.

When at length he made up his mind to take the field, he selected, as
most worthy of the exercise of his prowess, the triumph over the pirate
Barbarossa and his African hordes: the most important result of the
campaign being the occupation of Tunis, (where in his zealous burnings
for Christianity he installed a Mahometan sovereign,) and the wanton
destruction by his soldiers of a splendid library of valuable
manuscripts.

We have seen how little his Spanish subjects allowed themselves to be
dazzled by the splendours of his vast authority, and history informs us
how far he was from conceiving the resolution of reducing them to
obedience by any measures savouring of energetic demonstration. The
irreverence to his person he calmly pocketed, and the deficiences in his
exchequer were supplied by means of redoubled pressure on his less
refractory Flemings. He submitted to the breach of faith of Francis of
France, and to the disrespect of his Castilian vassals; but, on the
burghers of the city of Ghent being heard to give utterance to
expressions of discontent at the immoderate liberties taken with their
purse-strings, he quits Madrid in a towering rage, crosses France at
the risk of his liberty, and enters his helpless burg at the head of a
German army, darting on all sides frowns of imperial wrath, each
prophetic of a bloody execution.

Aware of the preparations of Francis for attacking his dominions
simultaneously in three different directions, he took insufficient or
rather no measures to oppose him, but turning his back, embarked for
Algiers, where he believed laurels to be as cheap as at Tunis. There,
however, he lost one half of his armament, destroyed by the elements;
and the remainder narrowly escaping a similar fate, and being dispersed
in all directions, he returned in time to witness the unopposed
execution of the plans of his French enemy. What measures are his on
such an emergency? Does he call together the contingents of the German
States? Unite the different corps serving in Lombardy and
Savoy,--dispatch an order to the viceroy of Naples to march for the
north of Italy; and having completed his combinations, cross the
Pyrenees at the head of a Spanish army, and give the law to his far
weaker antagonist? No! nothing that could lead to an encounter with the
French king accorded with his policy, as it has been called, but more
probably with his disposition. He quits Spain, it is true, and using all
diligence, travels round France, but not too near it, and arrives in
Flanders. Here he puts himself at the head of his Germans, and
marches--against the Duke of Cleves! who had formed an alliance with his
principal enemy.

Seeing the emperor thus engaged, Francis completes a successful
campaign, taking possession of Luxembourg and other towns. At length the
sovereign of half Europe, having received news of the landing of an
English army in Picardy, resolves to venture a demonstration against
France. He therefore traverses Lorraine at the head of eighty thousand
troops, and makes himself master of Luneville: after which, hearing that
Francis had despatched his best troops to oppose Henry the Eighth, and
was waiting for himself, as the less dangerous foe, with an army of half
the strength of his own, and composed of recruits, he makes up his mind
to advance in the direction of Paris. After a fortnight's march he finds
himself in presence of the French king, to whom he sends _proposals of
peace_!

These being rejected, he continues his march; when a messenger from
Francis announces his consent to treat. Under these circumstances, does
he require the cession of Burgundy, according to the terms of the
unexecuted treaty of Madrid? Does he even stipulate for any advantage,
for any equality? No! he agrees, on the contrary, to cede Flanders to
the French, under colour of a dowry with his daughter the Infanta Maria,
who was to be married to the Duke of Orleans; or else Milan, with his
niece the daughter of the King of the Romans; and he beats a retreat
with his immense army, as if taking the benefit of a capitulation.

There is something in the result of this French campaign which appears
to explain much of Charles's previous conduct; and shows that in many
instances he was actuated by personal fear of his gallant rival. On this
occasion he did not hesitate to desert the King of England, who had no
doubt calculated on his coöperation, as much as Charles had depended on
the diversion created by the British army. The more one reflects on the
passages of this emperor's history, the less one is surprised at his
resolution to abdicate. He gave in this a proof of his appreciation of
his real character, which undoubtedly fitted him rather for a life of
ease and retirement, than for the arduous duties of supreme power.




LETTER XII.

ARAB MONUMENTS. PICTURES. THE PRINCESS GALIANA. ENVIRONS.


Toledo.

Returning along the edge of the cliff, a very short space separates the
extreme walls of the ruined monastery of Ferdinand and Isabella, from an
edifice of much greater antiquity, although not yet a ruin. Its exterior
as you approach, is more than simple. It is not even a neatly
constructed building; but such a pile of rough looking mud and stone,
as, on the continent, announces sometimes a barn, or granary of a
farming establishment _mal monté._ A high central portion runs from end
to end, from either side of which, at about four-fifths of its height,
project lower roofs of brownish-red tiles. The old square rotten door is
in exact keeping with all this exterior, and contributes its share to
the surprise experienced on entering, when you discover, on a level with
the eye, distributed over a spacious quadrangular area, a forest of
elaborately carved capitals, surmounting octagon-shaped pillars, and
supporting innumerable horse-shoe arches, scattered in apparent
confusion. All these as you advance down a flight of steps, fall into
rank, and you speedily find yourself in the centre of an oriental temple
in all its symmetry.

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF SANTA MARIA LA BLANCA, TOLEDO.]

The principal light entering from the western extremity, you do not at
first perceive that three of the five naves terminate at the opposite
end, by half domes of more modern invention. These have since been
almost built out, and do not form a part of the general view,--not in
consequence of a decree of a committee of fine arts, but for the
convenience of the intendant of the province, who selected the edifice,
as long as it remained sufficiently weather-proof for such a purpose,
for a magazine of government stores. There is no record of the antiquity
of this church, supposed to be the most ancient in Toledo: at all
events, it is the most ancient of those constructed by the Arabs. It was
originally a synagogue, and received the above mentioned half cupolas on
its conversion to a Catholic church; since which period it has been
known by its present title of Santa Maria la Blanca.

A few hundred yards further on, following the same direction, is the
church called the Transito, also in the oriental style, but on a
different plan: a large quadrangular room, from about ninety to a
hundred feet in length, by forty in width, and about seventy high,
without arches or columns, ornamented with Arab tracery in stucco, on
the upper part of the walls, and by a handsome cedar roof. A cement of a
different colour from the rest runs round the lowest portion of the
walls, up to about breast high; no doubt filling the space formerly
occupied by the azulejos. Some remains of these still decorate the
seats, which are attached to the walls at the two sides of the altar.
The building is in excellent preservation, and until lately was used as
a church of the Mozarabic sect. The ornaments are remarkable for the
exquisite beauty of their design, and are uninjured, excepting by the
eternal whitewash, the monomania of modern Spanish decorators.

The Jews were the primitive occupants of this elegant temple also.
Samuel Levi, treasurer and favourite of Pedro the Cruel (who
subsequently transferred his affection from the person of his faithful
servant to the enormous wealth, amassed under so indulgent a prince, and
seized a pretext for ordering his execution) was the founder of this
synagogue. The inauguration was accompanied by extraordinary pomp. The
treasurer being, from his paramount position at the court of Castile,
the most influential personage of his tribe, the leading members of
Judaism flocked from all parts of Europe to Toledo to be present on the
occasion, and a deputation from Jerusalem brought earth of the Holy
Land, which was laid down throughout the whole interior before the
placing of the pavement.

A very different origin, more suited to believers in miracles, is
attributed to this church by the present titular sacristan. This
Quasimodo of the fabric, a simple and worthy functionary, enjoys a
sinecure, except, it is to be feared, with regard to salary. Although,
however, no duties confine him to his post, his attachment to the
edifice prevents his ever being found further from it than the porch;
under the cool shelter of which, as he leans against the wall, he
fabricates and consumes the friendly _cigarito_. When questioned with an
appearance of interest on the subject of the building, he replies with
unrestrained delight. Its foundation he attributes to Noah, fixing the
date at seventeen hundred years back; but without adding any particulars
relative to this miraculous visit paid to Toledo, by the ghost of the
patriarch.

As is the case with all other ecclesiastical edifices closed pursuant to
the recent decrees, this building may become the property of any one,
who would offer a sufficient price, not according to the real value, but
to that to which such objects are reduced by the great number in the
market. Several other churches are simply closed and left unguarded; but
the antiquarian sacristan above mentioned, is placed here on account of
the existence of a room in which are contained the archives of the
knights of Calatrava and Alcantara, until recently its proprietors. No
reparations, however, are ordered; and there is many an enthusiast in
archæological research who, should such an edifice fall under his
notice, would, no doubt, rescue it from its now imminent fate. It is not
only a monument admirable for the details of the ornaments, the best of
its sort to be met with north of Andalucia, but it forms a valuable link
in the chain of architectural history. It is the first ecclesiastical
edifice of its style recorded as having set the example of an open area,
destitute of columns and arcades.

At the distance of a few hundred yards from this building, a portion of
the precipice is pointed out, to which was given in former times the
name of the Tarpeian rock. It was the spot selected by the Jewish
authorities, (who enjoyed in Toledo, under the Kings of Castile, the
right of separate jurisdiction in their tribe,) for the execution of
their criminals. It is a perpendicular rock, but with an intermediate
sloping space between its base and the Tagus.

One of the most curious of the Arab monuments of Toledo, is the church
called the Christo de la Luz, formerly a mosque. It is extremely small;
a square of about twenty feet; and is divided by four pillars into three
naves, connected with each other, and with the surrounding walls, by
twelve arches. This disposition produces in the ceiling nine square
compartments, which rise each to a considerable height, enclosed by
walls from the tops of the arches upwards. Each small square ceiling is
coved and ornamented with high angular ribs, rising from the cornice and
intersecting each other, so as to form a different combination in each
of the nine.

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF CHRISTO DE LA LUZ. TOLEDO.]

The principal remaining Arab buildings are, the beautiful gate called
Puerta del Sol; part of the town walls with their towers; the parochial
church of San Roman; the tower of the church of St. Thomas; and two or
three other similar towers. Several private houses contain single rooms
of the same architecture, more or less ornamental. The most considerable
of these is situated opposite the church of San Roman, and belongs to a
family residing at Talavera. They have quitted the house in Toledo,
which is in a ruinous state. The Moorish saloon is a fine room of about
sixty feet in length by upwards of forty high, and beautifully
ornamented. The Artesonado roof of cedar lets in already, in more than
one part, light and water; and half the remainder of the house has
fallen.

The good pictures in Toledo are not very plentiful. It is said some of
the convents possessed good collections, which were seized, together
with all their other property. Many of these are to be seen in the
gallery called the Museo Nacional, at Madrid. Others have been sold.
Those of the cathedral have not been removed; but they are not numerous:
among them is a St. Francisco, by Zurbaran; and a still more beautiful
work of Alonzo del Arco, a St. Joseph bearing the Infant. It is in a
marble frame fixed in the wall, and too high to be properly viewed: but
the superiority of the colouring can be appreciated, and the excellence
of the head of the saint. In the smaller sacristy are two pictures in
Bassano's style, and some copies from Raphael, Rubens, and others. At
the head of the great sacristy, there is a large work of Domenico
Theotocopuli, commonly called El Greco, (the head of the school of
Toledo) which I prefer much to the famous Funeral of the Count Orgaz, in
the church of Santo Tonie, which, according to some, passes for his
masterpiece. In the first are traits of drawing, which forcibly call to
mind the style of the best masters of the Roman school, and prove the
obligation he was under to the instructions of his master Michel Angelo.
The subject is the Calvary. The soldiery fill the back ground. On the
right hand the foreground is occupied by an executioner preparing the
cross, and on the left, by the group of females. The erect figure of the
Christ is the principal object, and occupies the centre, somewhat
removed from the front. This is certainly a fine picture; the
composition is good, and the drawing admirable, but the colouring of the
Greco is always unpleasing.

In the Funeral of Count Orgaz it is insufferably false; nor, in fact, is
it easy to conjecture to what sort of merit this picture owes its
celebrity. It possesses neither that of conception, nor that of
composition, nor of expression: least of all that of colouring. All that
can be said in its favour is, that the row of heads extending from one
end of the canvass to the other, across the centre, are correct
portraits of personages of note, who figured in the history of the
epoch. The worst part of all is, the Heaven of the upper plan of the
picture, into which the soul of the Count has the bad taste to apply for
admission. This was, in fact, one of the works which gave occasion to
the saying of a critic of a contemporary school, who declared that the
Glorias (heavenly visions) of the Greco looked like Infernos, and his
Infernos like Glorias.

In the Transito there is an Adoration, a charming picture, apparently by
Rembrandt. There are here and there good pictures among the other
churches, but none very remarkable. In general, the most attractive
objects are the old picture-frames, and other gilded ornaments and wood
carvings. All these, in the taste of the commencement of the last
century and earlier, which is at present so much in request, are in such
profusion, as would draw tears of admiration from the eyes of a Parisian
upholsterer, and showers of bank notes from the purses of furniture
collectors.

You will not, I am sure, by this time, object to our quitting Toledo,
and making a short excursion in its environs. I shall therefore request
you to accompany me to the ruins of a Moorish palace, on the banks of
the Tagus, a mile distant from the town, called the Palacio de Galiana.
The Princess Galiana was the daughter of Galafre, one of the earlier
Arab Kings of Toledo. The widely extended fame of her beauty, is said to
have fired the imagination of Charles, son of Pepin, King of France, who
resolved to throw himself at her feet as a suitor, and forthwith
repaired to Toledo. However glowing the terms in which report had
represented her charms, he found them surpassed by the reality; but a
prince of a neighbouring state had forestalled him in his suit. This
obstacle did not, however, deter him from persisting in his resolution.
He forthwith challenged his rival to mortal combat; and, clearing his
road to the hand of the princess with the point of his lance, married
her, and carried her back with him to Paris.

The attachment of her father to this princess is said to have been such
from her earliest childhood, that he gave himself up entirely to this
affection--devoting all his wealth to the gratification of her caprices.
The Arab palace, now no longer in existence, took its name from hers, in
consequence of a new one having been erected for her by her father,
adjoining his own, at a period at which she had scarcely grown out of
childhood. The two residences being occupied by succeeding princes as
one, received the appellation of los Palacios, (the Palaces) of Galiana.

In addition to her town residence, she soon after had the other palace
constructed about a mile from Toledo. To arrive at the ruins, we pass
the bridge of Alcantara, and follow the rose-tree promenade. From this a
path on the left-hand leads to the spot across a field in garden-like
cultivation. The selection made by the Arab princess of this situation,
proves her to have possessed, in addition to her beauty, a consummate
taste and intelligence of rural life.

The Tagus--a name, by the way, more deserving of poetic fame than many a
more widely echoed stream--in this spot, as if conscious of the pains he
must shortly undergo, while dashing through the deep and narrow chasm
through which he must force a passage around Toledo, seems to linger,
desirous of putting off the fated storm. His course becomes more
circuitous as he approaches; and indulging in a hundred irregularities
of form, he plays round several small thickly wooded islands,
penetrating with innumerable eddies and back currents, into flowery
nooks and recesses; while here and there he spreads out in a wide sheet
his apparently motionless waters, as if seeking to sleep away the
remainder of his days on these green and luxurious banks.

In the midst of this delicious region, which recalls to the recollection
some of the more favoured spots in England, but which, with the addition
of the Spanish climate in early summer, is superior to them all, was
placed the palace. The valley for a considerable distance still bears
the name of the Garden of the King,--Huerta del Rey. The site of part of
the pleasure grounds immediately adjoining the river, is left wild, and
covered with woods; and the remainder is converted into a farm in the
highest state of cultivation. The ruin consists of three sides of a not
very large quadrangle; the massive walls of which are pierced with two
stories of arched windows. The remainder of the edifice was doubtless
less solid, and has entirely disappeared.

Many a tale of romance would be gathered--many a stirring scene
recorded, could so precious a document be brought to light as a
chronicle drawn up by some St. Simon of the Court of Toledo, who had
recorded the daily events of which this retreat was the theatre, during
the time it served as a residence for several successive sovereigns. But
in this land words have always been fewer than deeds, and records are
the rarest sort of subsisting monuments. One anecdote, however, is
transmitted, of which this spot was the scene, in the time of the last
but one of the Moorish princes who reigned at Toledo, before its
surrender to Alonzo the Sixth.

Alonzo was himself one of the actors on the occasion. In early life he
had been deprived by his brother Sancho, King of Castile, of the portion
of the kingdoms which fell to his share by the will of his father,
Ferdinand the First. On his expulsion from his inheritance he took
refuge at the court of the Arab king of Toledo, by whom he was received
with every mark of favour which could have been lavished on a friend.
The Moor (for the family then reigning was not Arab, although the two
races are constantly confounded in Spanish histories) gave him a palace,
and settled on him splendid revenues, to be continued during the time he
should think fit to accept his hospitality. He even sent invitations to
all the friends and followers of his guest, in order that he might be
surrounded with his own court.

Alonzo, touched by this delicate hospitality, attached himself warmly to
his host; his friendship for whom (I believe a solitary instance in
those times among the sovereigns in Spain) lasted until the death of the
latter. The youthful exile, thus handsomely treated, passed much of his
time in the society of his royal protector.

On one occasion, the court being at the country palace of Galiana, the
king and his attendants were reclining in the cool shade of the garden,
and Alonzo at a short distance, apparently asleep. The king, pointing to
the town, which towered on its precipice immediately in front of the
party, was expatiating on the strength of its position. All agreed that
it was impregnable; until a brother of the monarch observed, that there
was one mode of warfare against which it would not hold out: and he
proceeded to explain his plan, which consisted of an annual devastation
of the valley of the Tagus at the time of harvest, to be executed by an
invading army, which might be disbanded during the winter months. This
system, he maintained, would inevitably reduce the city by famine to the
necessity of a surrender.

No sooner was the last phrase uttered, than all present in an instant
struck by the same thought, turned towards the sleeper; and the greater
number, filled with suspicion respecting the reality of his slumbers,
addressed significant looks to the king, the intention of which could
not be mistaken, and which boded no good to Alonzo. Whatever might have
been the feelings of the Moor at this moment, he took no further notice
of the incident, and allowed his guest to terminate his nap when he
thought proper.

When the death of Sancho took place before Zamora, Alonzo was still at
Toledo. The intelligence being conveyed to him by a confidential
messenger from his sister, he lost no time in taking leave of his host,
who wished him success with every demonstration of friendship, and
repairing to Burgos. There, after some hesitation, the nobles consented
to his investiture with the sovereignty. During his brilliant reign he
resisted several tempting opportunities of breaking with his Moorish
ally and former host, and thus adding to his dominions,--and preserved
his friendship and loyalty unstained. After the death of the Moorish
king, he, however, speedily fell out with his successor. War was
declared on both sides, and it was resolved to attack Toledo. The well
known result was, the taking of the town after seven years, the time
mentioned in the garden of Galiana, and by means of the annually
repeated devastation of the Vega, according to the plan imagined and
described in the above mentioned conversation.

Returning by the Rose-tree Walk, immediately on approaching the bridge,
an advanced portion of the cliff which bounds the road on the left
detaches itself from the rest towards the summit, which rises in a
circular form. On it stands the Castle of San Servando, one of the most
picturesque of the Arab remains existing in this part of Spain. The
origin of this fort is uncertain. Some attribute it to the Romans, and
consider the Moorish windows and ornaments to be subsequent additions,
from their being constructed with bricks instead of the same stone as
the rest of the walls. But this is not a sufficient reason, since the
same peculiarity exists in all the Arab edifices in Toledo. In fact, the
reason is evident. The hard black sort of stone used for the walls,
would almost have defied the chisel which should have attempted to
fashion its surface into the delicate forms required by the Arab mode of
decorating. This argument, therefore, being set aside--remains the
masonry, which is more likely from its appearance to be Gothic or Arab,
than Roman.

It is probably entirely Arab. It encloses a quadrangular space of about
a quarter of an acre, and is a ruin; but the walls and towers are almost
entire. There are three small towers, that is of small diameter, but
lofty; and two larger, one of which is circular: the other is a
parallelogram terminating by a semicircle at one of its extremities.
This tower has lost apparently about a third of its elevation. Their
walls are so perfectly constructed as to appear externally like solid
rocks smoothed and rounded. Each larger tower contains two rectangular
brick projections, in which are small elegantly-arched openings for
windows.

The edifice was thoroughly repaired by Don Pedro Tenorio, archbishop of
Toledo; the same who built the bridge of San Martin. It has since played
its part in numberless wars, and was at length reduced to a ruin during
the insurrection headed by Juan de Padilla, at the commencement of
Charles the Fifth's reign.

During the Peninsular war of the present century, the old battlements
echoed once more with the sounds of warfare. It was occupied by a body
of French, who repaired a portion of the masonry at the summits of the
towers, and erected a low wall along the whole length of the Toledo
side. They were able, from their position, to batter the Alcazar, which
is immediately opposite, but on a higher level; and to command the
bridge of Alcantara, and road to Aranjuez.

In the other valley which extends to the west of Toledo exist the
remains of a circus for chariot races, generally supposed, at first
sight, to be Roman. They present, in fact, every characteristic of a
Roman work. The rough interior masonry is all that remains; and that
only rising to a height of from three to four feet from the ground, with
the exception of a single arch. The earth mingled with ruins, has
apparently filled up much of the interior, and surrounding the exterior
simultaneously, has only left visible the upper portion of the edifice.
The end which is in the best preservation is of a semicircular form.
From it the sides run in parallel directions, and lose themselves in the
ruins of a more recently erected convent. They are traceable to a length
of more than four hundred yards. The width is two hundred and ninety
feet within the building, at the present elevation of the ground, and
three hundred and twenty feet on the outside, which appears to have
consisted of a series of arches. There are also remains of an
amphitheatre adjoining the semicircular end of the stadium.

There being no indication of the Romans having at any period planted any
considerable establishment at Toledo, in fact no author but Livy having
noticed the place, and he but slightly; the antiquaries have sought for
the origin of these monuments among Gothic traditions; and it is
believed by them, that they were erected during the early part of the
sixth century, by Theudio, a Gothic King, who manifested much attachment
to Roman customs.




LETTER XIII.

CASTLES OF ALMONACID, GUADAMUR, MONTALBAN, AND ESCALONA. TORRIJOS.


Toledo.

I met this morning with an entertaining scene, in a quarter in which it
might be the least looked for. The archiepiscopal palace contains an
excellent library, which has always been open to the public. Although
the revenues of the see are now withdrawn, and the palace is vacant, the
books remain on the shelves, and the head librarian, a _racionero_ of
the cathedral, has the good nature to throw open the rooms from eleven
to twelve, on all days of labour, (as those are called on which no saint
is celebrated,) although he no longer enjoys a salary, nor the means of
providing a single attendant to see to what passes in the different
apartments.

I was occupied this morning in the _racionero's_ room, when he received
a visit from two French tourists, both persons of notoriety; one being
a member of the chamber of deputies, and one of the leaders of the
republican party; and the other, I believe, also in the chamber, but
principally known as a writer of political pamphlets, in which the
French reigning family, and the powers that be are lashed with
unwearying severity. The first mentioned personage commenced the
conversation in Spanish, which the other did not speak: but on hearing
the librarian make an observation in French, the pamphleteer took up the
argument in his own language, and nearly in the following terms.

"As this gentleman understands French, I will explain to him the object
of my tour," and addressing himself to the Spaniard, he continued--"I
find it a relief, in the midst of my arduous political duties, to make
an occasional excursion in a foreign country, and thus to enlarge the
sphere of my usefulness, by promoting the cause of humanity in the
various localities I visit. It is thus that I have recently passed
through Andalucia, and have recommended, and, I doubt not, successfully,
to the principal personages possessed of influence in its numerous
cities, the establishment of all sorts of useful institutions. I am now
in Toledo, animated with the same zeal. I have obtained an introduction
to you, Sir, understanding that you are an individual possessed of
considerable influence, and enjoying unbounded means of carrying out
the projects, which, I doubt not, you will agree with me in considering
essential to the well being and improvement, both moral and material, of
your ancient locality."

During this exordium, the Spaniard, who happens to be possessed of a
vivacity, unusual in his countrymen, and a sort of impatience of manner,
had endeavoured more than once to obtain a hearing. At length he
replied, that he feared it would not be in his power to carry out the
views which Monsieur did him the honour to communicate to him, owing to
the absence of sufficient resources at his disposal, whether for public
purposes, or in his individual and private capacity.

The Frenchman was not, however, to be so easily discouraged. "This,
Sir," he replied, "is the result of your modesty; but I am persuaded
that I have only to make my objects understood, in order to obtain their
complete execution. For instance, one of the most insignificant in
expense, but of infinite utility, is this: it would be a source of much
gratification to me, if you would have the most conspicuous spots
throughout Toledo ornamented with statues, representing, with greater or
less resemblance, all the personages, distinguished from various causes
in the history of Spain, to whom Toledo has given birth. These works I
should wish to be entrusted to artists of acknowledged talent, and"--he
was proceeding with constantly increasing rapidity of enunciation, when
the exhausted librarian's patience being at an end, he interrupted the
torrent. "However grateful the city of Toledo and myself must be for
your interest and advice, I am grieved to repeat that my anxiety to
comply with your wishes is totally powerless. We are without funds; and
I, for my own part, can assure you that I am _sans le sou_. Do me the
favour to name any service of a less expensive nature, and I shall
rejoice in proving to you my entire devotion. Excuse my _impolitesse_. I
am called for in the next room. I kiss your hand." It is needless, in
fact the attempt would baffle human intelligence, to conjecture what the
real object of these very liberal and very political gentlemen might be,
in honouring all parts of Spain with their visit.

The more distant environs of Toledo, principally towards the south and
south-east, are remarkable for a profusion of ruined castles. Supposing
a circle drawn at a distance of thirty miles from Toledo as its centre,
and divided, as it would be, by the Tagus, descending from east to west,
into two equal parts, the southern half, and the western portion of the
other, are so plentifully strewed with these fortresses, that, in many
instances, five or six are visible from the same point of view.

A chain of low mountains crosses the southern portion of the semicircle,
in a parallel line with the Tagus. Some of its branches advance into
this region, and terminate in detached peaks, which have afforded to the
aristocracy of former times favourable positions for their strongholds;
and a still greater number of proprietors, not being possessed of the
same advantages of site, were compelled to confide in the solidity of
their walls and turrets, which they constructed in the plain, usually
adjoining the villages or towns inhabited by their vassals. The greater
number of these edifices are of a date subsequent to the surrender of
Toledo to the Christians, and were erected on the distribution of the
different towns and estates among the nobility, on their being
successively evacuated by their Moorish proprietors. The Count of
Fuensalida, Duke of Frias, is the most considerable landed proprietor on
this side of Toledo, and several of the ruined castles have descended to
him.

I will not fatigue you by the enumeration of all these remains, of which
but a few are remarkable for picturesque qualities, and still fewer for
the possession of historical interest, as far as can be known at
present. One of them, situated ten miles to the south-east of Toledo,
and visible from its immediate neighbourhood, attracts notice owing to
its striking position. Occupying the summit of a conical hill, which
stands alone on the plain, and placed at four times the elevation of
Windsor Castle, you expect to find it connected with the history of some
knightly Peveril of the Peak, but learn with surprise that it was the
stronghold of the Archbishops of Toledo; and was erected by Don Pedro
Tenorio, the same prelate who rebuilt the bridge of San Martin, and
repaired the Moorish castle of San Servando.

Before you ascend the peak, you pass through the village of Almonacid,
from which the castle takes its name, and which, unlike that more
recently erected pile, is completely Arab in aspect. All the houses are
entered through back courts, and present no difference of appearance,
whether shops, taverns, _posadas_, or private residences. After tying my
horse in the stable of the posada, and giving him his meal of barley,
which he had carried in the _alforjas_ (travelling bags) suspended
behind the saddle, I took my own provisions out of the opposite
receptacle, and established myself before the kitchen fire.

On my asking for wine, the hostess requested I would furnish her with
two _quartos_ (one halfpenny) with which she purchased me a pint, at the
tavern next door. The host of the posada, who was seated next me, and a
friend at the opposite corner of the fire-place, favoured me, during my
meal, with their reminiscences of a battle fought here, during the
Peninsular war. They had not heard of the English having taken any part
in the quarrel, with the exception of the old woman, who recollected
perfectly the name of Wellington, and pronounced it as perfectly, but
thought he had been a Spanish general. They described the battle as a
hard fought one, and won by the French, who marched up the hill with
fixed bayonets, as the old host, almost blind, described by assuming the
attitude of a soldier jogging up a hill, and dislodged the Spanish
garrison from the castle.

I could have willingly passed a week in this village, so exciting are
the remains of Arab manners to the curiosity. The name of the place had
already raised my expectations, but the blind landlord of the posada
unconsciously won my attachment from the first moment. No sooner was I
seated, than, leaning towards me, and patting my arm to draw my
attention, he pointed to his two eyes. At first I was at a loss to
understand him; but soon discovered that he was desirous of knowing
whether I was sufficiently versed in the mysteries of Esculapius, to
prescribe for the relief of his suffering organs. To this trait he soon
added one still more characteristic, by actually speaking of Toledo, by
its Moorish appellation Tolaite. Had he worn a turban, sat cross-legged
and offered me coffee and a pipe, I should not have been more taken by
surprise, than by this Arab expression assailing the ear, in the heart
of Spain, ten miles from the town itself, in which the name had probably
not been uttered for three or four centuries.

The builder of the castle of Almonacid must have placed more confidence
in the difficulties of approach, than in the solidity of his structure.
The walls are partly of stone, and partly of _tapia_, or earth. There
only remain, the exterior wall, enclosing an area of about sixty to
seventy yards in diameter, and of a pentagonal form; and, in the centre,
the keep, a quadrangular tower, somewhat higher than the rest of the
buildings. There are no traces of living apartments. At each of the five
angles of the outer wall, is a small tower, and others in the centres of
some of the fronts; those looking to the west are circular, the rest
square. The nearer view of this ruin causes disappointment, as it
appears to have been a slovenly and hasty construction: but, at a
distance, its effect is highly picturesque.

The castle of Montalban is situated to the south-west of Toledo, at a
distance of six Spanish leagues. It resembles, in size and importance,
some of the largest English castles; and justifies thus far the
tradition preserved here, of its having for a short period, served for a
royal prison--Juan the Second being said to have been confined there by
his exasperated favourite, Don Alvaro de Luna. This story is not,
however, confirmed by historians, several of whom I have vainly
consulted, for the purpose of discovering it. Ferreras mentions the
castle, or rather the town, which lies at a distance of two leagues
(eight miles) from it, as having belonged to the queen of Juan the
Second; who, he states, was deprived of it, against her will, in favour
of Don Alvaro, and another place given her in exchange. On the
confiscation of the favourite's possessions, previous to his
decapitation, it reverted to the crown; and there is no further notice
taken of it in the history, until the Emperor Charles the Fifth, confers
on its then proprietor the title of Count. This personage was Don Alonzo
Tellez Giron, third in descent from Juan Pacheco, Duke of Escalona, who
had erected Montalban into a separate fief, in favour of one of his sons
and his descendants, on the singular condition of the family name
undergoing a change, on each successive descent. The alternate lords
were to bear the names respectively of Giron and Pacheco. The first
Count of Montalban married a daughter of D. Ladron de Guevara,
proprietor, _à propos_ of castles, of that of Guevara, in the
neighbourhood of Vitoria, constructed in an extremely singular form. The
centre tower appears intended to imitate the castles of a chess-board.
It is situated on the southern declivity of the chain of mountains, a
branch of the Pyrenees, which separates the province of Guipuscoa from
those of Navarre and Alava.

On the opposite descent of the chain another fortress existed in remote
times. Both were strongholds of robbers, whose descendants derived their
family name, Ladron (robber) from their ancestors' profession. In a
document signed by D. Garcia Ramirez, King of Navarre in 1135, D. Ladron
de Guevara, governor of Alava, figures among the grandees of the
kingdom; the descendants were afterwards called lords of Oñate, and the
castle is at present the property of the Count de Oñate, a grandee of
the first class. From its occupying a point _stratégique_ of
considerable importance, commanding the plain of Alava, and the high
road as it enters the valley of Borunda, it has been in recent times
occupied by the Carlists, and fortified.

Montalban belongs at present to the Count of Fuensalida. It is
completely ruinous, but the outer wall is almost entire; and one of two
lofty piles of building, in the form of bastions, which flanked the
entrance, is in sufficient preservation to allow the apartments to be
recognised. Their floors were at a height of about eighty feet from the
ground; and the mass of masonry which supported them, is pierced by an
immense gothic arch reaching to the rooms. The opposite corresponding
mass remains also with its arch; but the upper part which contained
rooms, no longer exists. On this, the entrance side, the approach is
almost level, and the defence consisted of a narrow and shallow moat;
but the three other sides, the fortress being of a quadrangular form,
look down into a deep ravine, through which a river, issuing from the
left, passes down two sides of the castle, and makes for the valley of
the Tagus, which river is seen at a distance of five or six miles.

The precipice at the furthest side descends perpendicularly, and is
composed of rocks in the wildest form. The river below leaps from rock
to rock, and foams through a bed so tormented, that, although owing to
its depth of at least five hundred feet from the foundations of the
castle, it looks almost like a thread, it sends up a roar not less loud
than that of the breakers under Shakspeare's Cliff. The valley, opening
for its passage, gives to the view, first, the Tagus, on the opposite
bank of which lies the town of Montalban, dependant on the lords of the
castle; beyond it an extensive plain, dotted with castles and towns,
most of them on the road from Madrid to Talavera; and at the horizon the
Sierra del Duque, coated with snow from about half its height upwards.
The extent of the view is about sixty miles.

The outer enceinte of the castle of Montalban encloses a space of five
or six acres in extent, in which no buildings remain, with the exception
of the picturesque ruin of a small chapel in the centre. Like almost all
other residences possessed of scenery sufficiently precipitous, this
castle boasts its lover's leap. A projection of wall is pointed out,
looking over the most perpendicular portion of the ravine, to which a
tradition is attached, deprived by time of all tangible distinctness, if
ever it possessed any. The title given to the spot in this instance is
"The Leap of the Moorish Girl," Despeñadera de la Mora. The position
will probably bear no comparison with the Leucadian promontory; nor is
it equal to the Peña de los Enamorados, near Antequera, in Andalucia,
immortal likewise in the annals of passion, and of which the authentic
story is preserved. Of those in our country I could name one--but I will
not, though few know it better--nor is it the meanest of its tribe. But
with these exceptions I know of none among the numerous plagiarisms of
the famous lover's leap of antiquity that offers to despair in search of
the picturesque more attractions than the Despeñadera of Montalban.

[Illustration: CASTLE OF GUADAMUR.]

The best preserved castle of these environs, and the handsomest
building, is that of Guadamur. It is not large, but it is impossible for
a residence-fortress to be more complete, and more compact. It is
composed of three enclosures, one within the other, and forms a
quadrangle, with the addition of a lofty and massive tower, projecting
from one of the angles. The centre, or inner quadrangle, is about half
the height of the tower, and has, at its three remaining angles, and at
the centre of each front, an elegant circular turret. This portion of
the edifice formed a commodious and handsome residence. It was divided
into two stories, with vaulted ceilings,--the lower apartments being
probably set apart for the offices of attendants, and places of
confinement for prisoners: in the centre of the upper story was a
diminutive open court, supported by the vaults of the ground-floor, and
into which a series of elegantly proportioned rooms opened on all sides.
Although the greater part of the vaults and interior walls are fallen
in, the rooms are all to be traced, and inscriptions in the old Gothic
letter run round the walls of some of the apartments. A second enclosure
rises to about two-thirds of the elevation of the inner quadrangle, and
is provided with corresponding turrets; but the proportions of these are
more spacious, and their construction and ornament more massive. Beyond
this are the exterior defences rising out of the moat, and very little
above the surrounding ground.

Viewed from without, nothing indicates that this edifice is a ruin. Over
the entrance are the arms of the Counts of Fuensalida. It is supposed by
many that this castle was erected by Garcilaso de la Vega, grandfather
of the "Prince of Spanish poets," as the celebrated bard of Toledo is
entitled. Others maintain its founder to have been Pedro Lopez de
Ayala, first Count of Fuensalida. This latter story is the more probable
one; since, besides its being confirmed by the armorial shield above
mentioned, it has been adopted by Haro in his Nobiliario, a work drawn
up with care and research, in which Garcilaso de la Vega is stated to
have purchased some towns from the family of Ayala,--among others
Cuerva, in the near neighbourhood, but not Guadamur.

The Ayalas were descended from the house of Haro, lords of Biscay.
Several of them had held high offices at the Court of Castile. The
grandfather of the founder of the castle had been High Chancellor of
Castile, and Great Chamberlain of Juan the First; and his father, the
first lord of Fuensalida, was High Steward, and first Alcalde of Toledo.
He lost an eye at the siege of Antequera,--taken from the Moors by
Ferdinand, afterwards King of Aragon, in the year 1410, and thus
acquired the surname of the One-eyed. To him Juan II. first granted the
faculty of converting his possessions into hereditary fiefs: "Because,"
according to one of the clauses of the act, "it was just that the houses
of the grandees should remain entire in their state for the eldest son;
and in order that the eldest sons of the grandees might be maintained in
the estates of their predecessors, that the name and memory of the
grandees of the kingdom might not be lost, and that the hereditary
possessions and houses, and the generations of the sons of grandees
might be preserved."

It was Pedro Lopez de Ayala, son of the one-eyed lord of Fuensalida
created Count by Enrique the Fourth, that built the castle. He was a
great favourite with the king, and his constant companion,
notwithstanding his being afflicted with deafness--a bad defect in a
courtier, and which procured him also a surname. He succeeded his father
in his different dignities. His loyalty did not keep pace with his
obligations to Henry the Fourth; for, being first Alcalde of Toledo, he
made no effort to prevent that town from joining the party of the Prince
Alonzo, who pretended to his brother's crown; but he was recalled to his
allegiance by the devoted exertions of his wife.

This lady was Doña Maria de Silva, a daughter of Alonzo Tenorio de
Silva, Adelantado of Cazorla. On the breaking out of the rebellion of
Toledo, she agreed with her brother Pedro de Silva, Bishop of Badajos,
to send a joint letter to the king, in which they pressed him to come to
Toledo in disguise. Enrique the Fourth approved of the plan; and
arriving in the night, accompanied by a single attendant, was received
by the bishop at his residence in the convent of San Pedro Martir.
Notwithstanding the darkness, he had been recognised by a servant of
Marshal Payo de Ribera, a partisan of Prince Alonzo. This noble,
immediately on learning the king's arrival, joined with the Alcalde, who
had not been let into the secret by his wife, and called the citizens to
arms by sounding the great bell of the cathedral. A crowd was speedily
assembled at the king's lodging, who would have been immediately made
prisoner, but for his attendant Fernando de Ribadenegra, who succeeded,
single handed, in repulsing a party who had forced an entrance.

At this crisis the disloyal magistrate became alarmed, and sent his two
sons, Pedro de Ayala, and Alonzo de Silva, accompanied by Perafande
Ribera, son of the above-mentioned marshal, to entreat the king to quit
the town. Henry consented; and at midnight left the convent, accompanied
by the three youths. He had ridden sixteen leagues that day, and his
horses being exhausted with fatigue, he requested the two sons of Ayala
to lend him theirs. They did so, and accompanied him on foot as far as
the city gates, where he left them, and set off for Madrid.

In order to pacify the people, Pedro Lopez ordered his brother-in-law,
the bishop, to quit the town, and he repaired to the Huerta del Rey, a
country-house in the environs. On arriving at Olias the king sent the
two brothers, in recompense of their good service, a deed of gift of
seventy thousand _maravedis_ of annual revenue.

The grief of Maria de Silva at the failure of her project was such as
almost to deprive her of her reason, and added to the eloquence of her
entreaties to win over her husband to the king's interests. He now,
therefore, exerted himself to gain the principal citizens, and succeeded
so completely, that within three days from the departure of Enrique the
Fourth, he was enabled to recall the Bishop of Badajos to Toledo, and to
banish in his stead the Marshal de Payo and his son, who retired to
their estates. Unanimous was now the cry of "Viva Enrique Quarto, y
Mueren los rebeldes!" and the following day, a Sunday, the king
re-entered Toledo in the midst of the general joy and festivity, and
preceded directly to the residence of the Alcalde, in order to thank his
wife for her loyal efforts. A lodging was there in readiness to receive
him, which he occupied during his stay in Toledo. Pedro Lopez de Ayala
received on the king's return to Madrid the title of Count of his town
of Fuensalida, and shortly afterwards, at Medina del Campo, a grant of
the towns of Casaruvias del monte, Chocas, and Arroyomolinos.

The town and castle of Escalona are situated at eight leagues, or
thirty-two miles, to the east of Toledo. It is one of the towns, about
a dozen in number, the foundation of which is attributed by the Count de
Mora, in his history of Toledo, to the Jews. He fixes the date at about
five centuries before the Christian era, when a large number of
Israelites, to whom Cyrus, king of Babylon, had granted their liberty,
arrived in Spain under the guidance of a Captain Pirrus, and fixed
themselves principally in and around Toledo. He also states that the
synagogue of Toledo--since called Santa Maria la Blanca--was erected by
them. The name given by them to Escalona was Ascalon. The neighbouring
Maqueda was another of their towns, and was called Mazeda. It was
created a duchy by Ferdinand and Isabella in favour of their courtier
Cardenas. I cannot learn the date of the castle of Escalona. Alonzo the
Sixth won the town from the Moors; and it is probable that the castle
was erected, at least in part, by Diego and Domingo Alvarez, two
brothers, to whom he granted the place. After their death it reverted to
the crown of Castile, and continued to be royal property until Juan II.
gave it to his favourite Don Alvaro de Luna.

This grandee was known to have amassed great treasures in the castle;
and on the confiscation of his possessions at the period of his final
disgrace, the king marched an army to take possession of the fortress;
but the countess held out successfully, and obliged the royal troops to
raise the siege. On a second attempt, made after Don Alvaro's execution,
his widow considered she had no further object in maintaining it, and
lost no time in coming to terms. The conditions of the surrender were,
that the treasure should be divided into three equal parts, one for the
king, another for herself, and the third for her son. The son was
likewise allowed to inherit the castle, and by the marriage of his
daughter, it came into the possession of the Marquis of Villena, D.
Lopez Pacheco, created Duke of Escalona by Henry the Fourth. The family
of Fellez Giron, proprietors of Montalban, were descendants of this
duke. At present the castle of Escalona belongs to the Duke of Ossuna.
It is not only the most considerable of the numerous ruins disposed over
the territory of Toledo, but one of the most interesting historical
relics of Spain, having filled an important place in the annals of
several of the most stirring periods. The unfortunate Blanche, Queen of
Pedro the Cruel, was its inmate during several years; as also her rival,
Maria de Padilla, at a subsequent period.

The best excursion from Toledo in point of architectural interest, is
that to Torijos, a small town situated rather to the left of the direct
road to Escalona, and five leagues distant. Immediately before arriving
there, the castle of Barciense is met with, situated on an eminence
which commands an admirable view, extending south and west to a
semi-circle of mountains, composed of the Sierra del Duque, and the
chain called the mountains of Toledo, and for a foreground looking down
on a perfect forest of olive-grounds, surrounding the town of Torijos,
two miles distant. The ruin of Barciense consists of a lofty square
tower, and the outer walls of a quadrangle. There is nothing worth
notice, with the exception of a bas-relief, which occupies all the upper
half of the tower on the east side. It consists of a solitary lion
rampant; probably the largest crest ever emblazoned. The Dukes of
Infantado were proprietors of this castle.

The little town of Torijos contains a Gothic, or rather semi-Moorish
palace, two Gothic churches, an ancient picturesque gateway, and the
ruins of a magnificent monastery. It is one of those towns here and
there met with on the Continent, which, at a favourable crisis of the
arts, have fallen to the proprietorship of one of those individuals
idolised by architects--men whose overplus of fortune is placed at the
disposal of their eyes, and employed in ministering to the gratification
of those organs. The greater part of the decoration of Torijos dates
from the reign of Ferdinand the Catholic, when it belonged to D.
Gutiere de Cardenas, father of the first duke of Maqueda. The following
story is related respecting the founding of the monastery by his wife
Teresa Enriquez.

This lady resided, when at Toledo, in a mansion, the ruins of which
still exist, on the opposite side of the street to the monastery of San
Juan de los Reyes, of which I sent you a description in a former letter.
Being warmly attached to religious observances, (for she went by the
name of Teresa la Santa,) and animated with an enthusiastic fervour
towards everything which appertained to the splendid establishment in
front of her residence, she had discovered a position, from which a view
could be obtained, overlooking the principal scene of the religious
ceremonies of the Franciscans. She there caused a window to be
constructed, splendidly ornamented in the Arab style, and kneeling on a
rich _prie-dieu_, she united her daily devotions with those of the
_frailes_.

No small sensation was caused by this proceeding, most perceptible
probably within the monastery, on the discovery being made by the
brethren of the addition to their holy fraternity. The cardinal became
alarmed, and intimated to Doña Teresa that the window was
ill-placed,--that it admitted too much light in a wrong direction; that,
in short, it must disappear. The veto of the all-powerful Ximenes de
Cisneros, already regarded as the dispenser of the royal frowns and
favours, could not be resisted. The window was blocked up; but the
interference was replied to in terms pointed with pious pique and holy
revenge. The lady declared verbally to the prelate that she had no need
of his convent, for she would found a more splendid one at Torijos. This
threat, immediately put in execution, produced the building I mentioned
above, the ruin of which is all that now remains.

Of the inhabited portions the external walls alone remain. The cloister
is almost entire, and the church has only lost its roof. The rich
tracery surrounding the doorways, and the sculpture in all parts of the
interior, consisting chiefly of repetitions of the founder's armorial
bearings--in imitation or satire of the profusion of similar ornament in
San Juan de los Reyes--are entire, and appear as though they had been
recently executed. The church is designed after the plan of San Juan,
but the style of its ornament is much more elegant. The cloister is,
however, very inferior to that of Toledo, and the whole establishment on
a smaller scale.

Every traveller in search of the picturesque knows in how great a degree
his satisfaction has been increased whenever the meeting with a scene
deserving of his admiration assumes the nature of a discovery. For this
reason, the chapters of tourists should never be perused before a
journey--independently of their possessing more interest subsequently to
an acquaintance having been made with the country described. Strictly
speaking written tours are intended for those who stay at home.

But the most favourable first view of a highly admirable building or
landscape, is the one you obtain after the perusal of tours and
descriptions of the country, in none of which any notice is taken of
that particular object or scene. The village of Torijos is approached
under these advantageous circumstances. Every step is a surprise, owing
partly to the above cause, and partly to one's being inured to the
almost universal dreariness and ugliness of the villages and small towns
of this part of Spain. The appearance under these circumstances of a
beautiful Gothic cross and fountain, of an original and uncommon design,
outside the walls of the place, and the open tracery of the tall windows
of the ruined monastery at the other side of a green meadow, creates an
agreeable surprise, and adds considerably to the pleasure which would be
derived from the same objects, had expectation been already feeding on
their beauties. Imagine, then, the discovery, after leaving behind these
monuments, (sufficient for the immortality of a score of Castilian
villages,) of the façade of the principal church, consisting of one of
the richest and most exquisite specimens of Gothic decoration in Spain;
and, a street further on, of a second ornamental portal of a different
sort, but Gothic likewise, giving access to a half Arab palace.

The Count of Altamira is the proprietor of this place, but neither he
nor any of his family have inhabited the edifice for several years, and
it is allowed to go to decay. Some of the _artesonado_ ceilings, more
especially that of the chapel in form of a cupola, admit the light
through the joinings of the gilded woodwork. A large hall on the
first-floor, which formed the anteroom to a suite of inner apartments,
decorated in the Arab style, has been taken possession of by the _haute
volée_ of Torijos for their public ball-room. A tribune for musicians is
placed against one of the end walls, and adorned with paper festoons. A
placard, inscribed with the word _galop_, was visible in front of the
seat of the leader of the band, indicating that the Torijos balls
terminate with that lively dance. There was no furniture in that nor any
other part of the house, with the exception of an _entresol_ inhabited
by the count's steward. This person no sooner learned that I was an
Englishman, than he commenced setting in the best possible light the
advantages the premises possessed for the establishment of every sort of
manufactory.

It appears the proprietor is anxious to dispose of the building; and as
all the English pass here for manufacturers, owing to the principal
articles of common use, introduced by smugglers, being English, the
worthy factotum had instantly made up his mind that I was the purchaser
sent by Providence to take the old edifice off his master's hands. He is
evidently either promised a bonus on the success of his efforts to sell,
or he wished to pass with the property; for his idea produced a degree
of zeal most useful towards the satisfaction of my curiosity, and
without which his patience would have been exhausted before I had
completed the view of the building. One peculiarity of the rooms
consists in the ceilings--that is, the ornamental ones--being nearly all
either domes, or interiors of truncated pyramids. There is only one
flat. It is ornamented with the shell of the arms of the Cardenas
family--each of the hundreds of little square compartments having one in
its centre. The staircase is adorned with beautiful Gothic tracery.




LETTER XIV.

VALLADOLID. SAN PABLO. COLLEGE OF SAN GREGORIO. ROUTE BY SARAGOZA.


Tolosa.

I should have sent you an account of my excursion to Valladolid at the
time it took place, but was prevented by the shortness of my stay and
the hurry of my departure from Madrid, which immediately followed. I
preserved, however, memoranda of the limited explorations which were to
be made during a flying visit of three days, and will now give you the
benefit of them, such as they are; as also of my experience of the
public travelling in that direction. You will recommend your friends,
who may visit this land of adventure, and are careful at the same time
of their personal comforts, to wait the introduction of railroads,
before attempting this excursion, when you hear that I met with three
upsets in one night, and was afforded, in all, nearly five hours'
leisure for contemplating the effect of moonlight upon the sleeping
mules and an upside-down carriage!

The town of Valladolid contains monuments of much interest, although
none of great antiquity. The greater number date from the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, and form a chain, illustrative of the progress of
architecture in this country, subsequently to the abandonment of the
Gothic style. This style is, however, worthily represented by two
edifices, placed in juxtaposition, and ornamented each with a façade of
extraordinary richness. I will content myself with the endeavour to give
you some idea of these two buildings, which, although belonging to a
style so common in England and France, are totally unlike all the Gothic
specimens I am acquainted with in those countries.

[Illustration: FAÇADE OF SAN PABLO.]

The largest of the two is the monastery of San Pablo. It was a
foundation of much magnificence, and the building has sustained very
little injury, owing to its having, immediately on the expulsion of the
monks, been applied to other uses, instead of being deserted and left to
decay. It is now a Presidio, or central prison for condemned
malefactors. The cloister is a superb quadrangle, of the pointed style
of the end of the fourteenth century, and is the usual resort of the
prisoners, who are grouped so thickly over its pavement, that it is with
difficulty one passes between them, without adding to the clanking of
chains as their wearers change their posture to make way. The façade of
the church is enclosed between two small octagon towers without
ornament, like a picture in a frame. Within these all is sculpture. The
door-way is formed of a triple concentric arch, flanked by rows of
statues, all of which are enclosed within another arch, which extends
across the whole width, from tower to tower. Over this there is a
circular window, surrounded with armorial escutcheons, and the remainder
of the façade is covered with groups of figures in compartments, up to
the summit, a height of about a hundred and thirty feet, where there is
a pediment ornamented with an immense armorial shield and lions rampant
as supporters, and the whole is surmounted by a cross.

The church was erected by the celebrated Torquemada, who was a monk in
the establishment. Doña Maria, Queen of Sancho the Fourth, although
mentioned as the founder of the monastery, only completed a small
portion of the edifice compared to what was subsequently added. A
handsome tomb by Pompeyo Leoni, is seen in the church. It is that of Don
Francisco de Sandoval, Duke of Lerma, and his wife. The woodwork of the
stalls is by Ferrara. It is adorned with fluted Doric columns, and is
composed of walnut, ebony, box and cedar. The superb façade of this
church and its sumptuous tracery, had well nigh been the cause of a
misunderstanding between the representative of the Spanish Government
and myself. To obtain admission to the interior of the building, which I
was told had become national property, I addressed my humble request in
writing to the _gefe politico_, or governor of the province, resident at
Valladolid. I left the note at his official residence, and was
requested to return at an hour appointed, when I was to obtain an
audience. The functions of a _gefe politico_ answer to those of no
provincial functionary in England, or any other constitutional state--he
has more authority even than a Préfet in France. He represents the
monarchical power, with this difference, that he is uncontrolled by
parliament within the limits of his province. Although not charged with
the military administration, he can direct and dispose of the armed
force; besides being a sort of local home minister and police
magistrate; in fact, the factotum or _âme damnée_ of the Cromwell of the
moment, with whom he is in direct and constant communication on the
affairs of his district.

I was at Valladolid during the regency of Espartero, when the cue given
to these functionaries, relative to the _surveillance_ of foreigners was
very anti-French, and favourable to England. Now in the eyes of a
_gens-d'armes_ every one is a thief until he can bring proof to the
contrary, just as by the jurisprudence of certain continental countries,
every accused is presumed criminal--just as every one who comes to a Jew
is presumed by him to have old clothes to sell, or money to borrow.
Thus, owing to the nature of the duties of the Governor of Valladolid,
every foreigner who met his eye, was a Frenchman, and an _intrigant_,
until he should prove the reverse.

Not being aware of this at the time, I had drawn up my petition in
French. On my return for the answer, my reception was any thing but
encouraging. The excessive politeness of the Spaniard was totally lost
sight of, and I perceived a moody-looking, motionless official, seated
at a desk, with his hat resting on his eyebrows, and apparently studying
a newspaper. I stood in the middle of the room for two or three minutes
unnoticed; after which, deigning to lift his head, the personage
inquired in a gruff tone, why I did not open my cloak. I was not as yet
acquainted with the Spanish custom of drawing the end of the cloak from
off the left shoulder, on entering a room. I therefore only half
understood the question, and, being determined, at whatever price, to
see San Pablo, I took off my cloak, laid it on a chair, and returned to
face the official. "I took the liberty of requesting your permission to
view the ancient monastery of San Pablo."--"And, pray, what is your
reason for wishing to see San Pablo?"--"Curiosity."--"Oh, that is all,
is it!"--"I own likewise, that, had I found that the interior
corresponded, in point of architectural merit, with the façade, I might
have presumed to wish to sketch it, and carry away the drawing in my
portmanteau."--"Oh, no doubt--very great merit. You are a
Frenchman?"--"I beg your pardon, only an Englishman."--"You! an
Englishman!!" No answer. "And pray, from what part of England do you
come?" I declined the county, parish, and house.

These English expressions, which I had expected would come upon his ear,
with the same familiarity as if they had been Ethiopian or Chinese,
produced a sudden revolution in my favour. The Solomon became
immediately sensible of the extreme tact he had been displaying.
Addressing me in perfect English, he proceeded to throw the blame of my
brutal reception on the unfortunate state of his country. "All the
French," he said, "who come here, come with the intention of intriguing
and doing us harm. You wrote to me in French, and that was the cause of
my error. The monastery is now a prison; I will give you an order to
view it, but you will not find it an agreeable scene, it is full of
criminals in chains." And he proceeded to prepare the order.

Not having recovered the compliment of being taken for a conspirator;
nor admiring the civilisation of the governor of a province, who
supposed that all the thirty-four millions of French, must be
_intrigants_, I received his civilities in silence, took the order, and
my departure. The most curious part of the affair was, that I had no
passport at the time, having lost it on the road. Had my suspicious
interrogator ascertained this before making the discovery that I was
English, I should inevitably have been treated to more of San Pablo than
I desired, or than would have been required for drawing it in detail.

The adjoining building is smaller, and with less pretension to
magnificence is filled with details far more elaborate and curious. The
Gothic architecture, like the Greek, assumed as a base and principle of
decoration the imitation of the supposed primitive abodes of rudest
invention. The Greek version of the idea is characterised by all the
grace and finished elegance peculiar to its inventors; while the same
principle in the hands of the framers of Gothic architecture, gave birth
to a style less pure and less refined; but bolder, more true to its
origin, and capable of more varied application. In both cases may be
traced the imitation of the trunks of trees; but it is only in the
Gothic style that the branches are added, and that instances are found
of the representation of the knots and the bark. In this architecture,
the caverns of the interior of mountains are evidently intended by the
deep, multiplied, and diminishing arches, which form the entrances of
cathedrals; and the rugged exterior of the rocky mass, which might
enclose such a primæval abode, is imaged in the uneven and pinnacled
walls.

[Illustration: FAÇADE OF SAN GREGORIO, VALLADOLID.]

The façade of the college of San Gregorio, adjoining San Pablo,
furnishes an example of the Gothic decoration brought back to its
starting point. The tree is here in its state of nature; and contributes
its trunk, branches, leaves, and its handfuls of twigs bound together. A
grove is represented, composed of strippling stems, the branches of some
of which, united and bound together, curve over, and form a broad arch,
which encloses the door-way. At each side is a row of hairy savages,
each holding in one hand a club resting on the ground, and in the other
an armorial shield. The intervals of the sculpture are covered with
tracery, representing entwined twigs, like basket-work. Over the door is
a stone fourteen feet long by three in height, covered with
_fleurs-de-lis_ on a ground of wicker-work, producing the effect of
muslin. Immediately over the arch is a large flower-pot, in which is
planted a pomegranate tree. Its branches spread on either side and bear
fruit, besides a quantity of little Cupids, which cling to them in all
directions. In the upper part they enclose a large armorial escutcheon,
with lions for supporters. The arms are those of the founder of the
college, Alonzo de Burgos, Bishop of Palencia. On either side of this
design, and separated respectively by steins of slight trees, are
compartments containing armed warriors in niches, and armorial shields.
All the ornaments I have enumerated cover the façade up to its summit,
along which project entwined branches and sticks, represented as broken
off at different lengths.

[Illustration: COURT OF SAN GREGORIO. VALLADOLID.]

The court of this edifice is as elaborately ornamented as the façade,
but it was executed at a much later period, and belongs to the
renaissance. The pillars are extremely elegant and uncommon. The doorway
of the library is well worthy of notice; also that of the refectory.
The college of San Gregorio was, in its day, the most distinguished in
Spain. Such was the reputation it had acquired, that the being announced
as having studied there was a sufficient certificate for the proficiency
of a professor in science and erudition. It is still a college, but no
longer enjoys the same exclusive renown. In the centre of the chapel is
the tomb of the founder, covered with excellent sculpture, representing
the four virtues, and the figures of three saints and the Virgin. It is
surrounded by a balustrade ornamented with elaborate carving. Berruguete
is supposed to have been the sculptor, but in the uncertainty which
exists on the subject, it would not be difficult to make a better guess,
as it is very superior to all the works I have seen attributed to that
artist. At the foot of the statue of the bishop is the following short
inscription, "Operibus credite." To this prelate was due the façade of
San Pablo; he was a Dominican monk at Burgos, where he founded several
public works. He became confessor, chief chaplain, and preacher to
Isabel the Catholic: afterwards Bishop of Cordova; and was ultimately
translated to the see of Palencia. He received the sobriquet of Fray
Mortero, as some say from the form of his face, added to the
unpopularity which he shared with the two other favorites of Ferdinand
and Isabella,--the Duke of Maqueda, and Cardinal Ximenes, with whom he
figured in a popular triplet which at that period circulated throughout
Spain,

    Cardenas, el Cardenal,
    Con el padre Fray Mortero,
    Fraen el reyno al retortero.

which may be freely translated thus:

    What with his Grace the Cardinal,
    With Cardenas, and Father Mortar,--
    Spain calls aloud for quarter! quarter!

The concise inscription seen on the tomb, was probably meant as an
answer to this satire, and to the injurious opinion generally received
respecting his character.

I returned from Toledo by way of Madrid and Saragoza. The diligence
track from Toledo to Madrid was in a worse state than at the time of my
arrival: a circumstance by no means surprising, since what with the wear
and tear of carts and carriages, aided by that of the elements, and
unopposed by human labour, it must deteriorate gradually until it
becomes impassable. Since my last visit to the Museo the equestrian
portrait of Charles the Fifth by Titian has been restored. It was in so
degraded a condition that the lower half, containing the foreground and
the horses' legs, presented scarcely a distinguishable object. It has
been handled with care and talent, and, in its present position in the
centre of the gallery, it now disputes the palm with the Spasimo, and is
worth the journey to Madrid, were there nothing else to be seen there. I
paid another visit to the Saint Elizabeth in the Academy, and to the
Museum of Natural History, contained in the upper floor of the same
building. This gallery boasts the possession of an unique curiosity; the
entire skeleton of a Megatherion strides over the well-furnished tables
of one of the largest rooms. I believe an idea of this gigantic animal
can nowhere else be formed. The head must have measured about the
dimensions of an elephant's body.

From Castile into Aragon the descent is continual, and the difference of
climate is easily perceptible. Vineyards here climb the mountains, and
the plains abound with olive-grounds, which are literally forests, and
in which the plants attain to the growth of those of Andalucia. In
corresponding proportion to the improving country, complaints are heard
of its population. Murders and robberies form the subject of
conversations; and certain towns are selected as more especially
_mal-composées_, for the headquarters of strong bodies of _guardia
civile_; without which precaution travelling would here be attended with
no small peril. This state of things is attributed partly to the
disorganising effects of the recent civil war, which raged with
peculiar violence in this province. The same causes have operated less
strongly in the adjoining Basque provinces, from their having to act on
a population of a different character,--colder, more industrious, and
more pacifically disposed, and without the desperate sternness and
vindictive temper of the Aragonese.

The inhabitants of this province differ in costume and appearance from
the rest of the Spaniards. Immediately on setting foot on the Aragonese
territory, you are struck by the view of some peasant at the road-side:
his black broad-brimmed hat,--waistcoat, breeches, and stockings all of
the same hue, varied only by the broad _faja_, or sash of purple, make
his tall erect figure almost pass for that of a Presbyterian clergyman,
cultivating his Highland garden. The natives of Aragon have not the
vivacity and polished talkativeness of the Andalucian and other
Spaniards; they are reserved, slow, and less prompt to engage in
conversation, and often abrupt and blunt in their replies. These
qualities are not, however, carried so far as to silence the continual
chatter of the interior of a Spanish diligence. Spanish travelling opens
the sluices of communicativeness even of an Aragonese, as it would those
of the denizens of a first class vehicle of a Great Western train, were
they exposed during a short time to its vicissitudes.

However philosophers may explain the phenomenon, it is certain that the
talkativeness of travellers augments in an inverse ratio to their
comforts. The Spaniards complain of the silence of a French diligence;
while, to a Frenchman, the occupants of the luxurious corners of an
English railroad conveyance, must appear to be afflicted with dumbness.

Saragoza is one of the least attractive of Spanish towns. Its situation
is as flat and uninteresting as its streets are ugly and monotonous. The
ancient palace of the sovereigns of Aragon is now the Ayuntamiento. It
would form, in the present day, but a sorry residence for a private
individual, although it presents externally a massive and imposing
aspect. Its interior is almost entirely sacrificed to an immense hall,
called now the Lonja. It is a Gothic room, containing two rows of
pillars, supporting a groined ceiling. It is used for numerous
assemblies, elections, and sometimes for the carnival balls. The ancient
Cathedral of La Seu is a gothic edifice, of great beauty internally; but
the natives are still prouder of the more modern church called Nuestra
Señora del Pilar,--an immense building in the Italian style, erected for
the accommodation of a statue of the Virgin found on the spot, standing
on a pillar. This image is the object of peculiar veneration.

After leaving Saragoza you are soon in the Basque provinces. The first
considerable town is Tudela in Navarre; and here we were strongly
impressed with the unbusinesslike nature of the Spaniard. This people,
thoroughly good-natured and indefatigable in rendering a service, when
the necessity arises for application to occupations of daily routine
appear to exercise less intelligence than some other nations. It is
probably owing to this cause that at Madrid the anterooms of the Foreign
Office, situated in the palace, are, at four in the afternoon, the scene
of much novelty and animation. In a town measuring no more than a mile
and a half in each direction, the inexperienced stranger usually puts
off to the last day of his stay the business of procuring his passport,
and he is taken by surprise on finding it to be the most busy day of
all. Little did he expect that the four or five _visas_ will not be
obtained in less than forty-eight hours: and he pays for his place in
the diligence or mail (always paid in advance) several days before. It
is consequently worth while to attend in person at the Secretary of
State's office, in search of one's passport, in order to witness the
scene.

The hour for the delivery of these inevitable documents, coincides with
the shutting up for the day of all the embassies: so that those which
require the subsequent _visa_ of an ambassador, have to wait twenty-four
hours. Hence the victims of official indifference, finding themselves
disappointed of their departure, and minus the value of a place in the
mail, give vent to their dissatisfaction in a variety of languages,
forming a singular contrast to the phlegmatic and _impassible_ porters
and ushers, accustomed to the daily repetition of similar scenes. Some,
rendered unjust by adversity, loudly accuse the government of complicity
with the hotel-keepers. I saw a Frenchman whose case was cruel. His
passport had been prepared at his embassy, and as he was only going to
France, there were no more formalities necessary, but the visa of the
police, and that of the foreign office. All was done but the last, and
he was directed to call at four o'clock. His place was retained in that
evening's mail, and being a mercantile traveller, both time and cash
were of importance to him. On applying at the appointed hour, his
passport was returned to him without the _visa_, because the French
Secretary had, in a fit of absence, written Cadiz, instead of
Bordeaux--he was to wait a day to get the mistake rectified.

These inconveniences were surpassed by that to which the passengers of
our diligence were subjected at Tudela. Imagine yourself ensconced in a
corner of the Exeter mail (when it existed) and on arriving at Taunton,
or any intermediate town, being informed that an unforeseen circumstance
rendered it necessary to remain there twenty-four hours, instead of
proceeding in the usual manner. On this announcement being made at
Tudela, I inquired what had happened, and learned that a diligence,
which usually met ours, and the mules of which were to take us on, was
detained a day at Tolosa, a hundred miles off. Rather than send a boy to
the next stage to bring the team of mules, which had nothing to do, a
dozen travellers had to wait until the better fortunes of the previous
vehicle should restore it to its natural course.

As if this contretems was not sufficient, we were subjected to the most
galling species of tyranny, weighing on the dearest of human privileges,
I mean that which the proprietor of a shilling,--zwanziger, franc, or
pezeta,--feels that he possesses of demanding to be fed. We had left
Saragoza at nine in the morning, and had arrived without stoppages at
six. A plentiful dinner, smoking on the table of the _comedor_, might
have produced a temporary forgetfulness of our sorrows: but no
entreaties could prevail on the hostess to lay the table-cloth. It was
usual for the joint supper of the two coaches to take place at nine, and
not an instant sooner should we eat. Weighed down by this complication
of miseries, we sat, a disconsolate party, round the _brasero_, until at
about eight our spirits began to rise at the sight of a table-cloth; and
during half an hour, the occasional entrance of a waiting woman, with
the different articles for the table, kept our hopes buoyed up, and our
heads in motion towards the door, each time it opened to give entrance,
now to a vinegar cruet, now to a salt-cellar.

At length an angelic figure actually bore in a large dish containing a
quantity of vegetables, occasioning a cry of joy to re-echo through our
end of the room. She placed it on a side-board and retired. Again the
door opened, when to our utter dismay, another apparition moved towards
the dish, took it up and carried it away; shutting the door carefully
behind her. This was the best thing that could have occurred; since it
produced a sudden outburst of mirth, which accompanied us to the table,
now speedily adorned with the materials of a plentiful repast.

The next town to Tudela, is the gay and elegant little fortress of
Pamplona, from which place an easy day's journey, through a tract of
superb mountain scenery, brings you to Tolosa, the last resting-place on
the Spanish side.




PART II.

SEVILLE.




LETTER XV.

JOURNEY TO SEVILLE. CHARACTER OF THE SPANIARDS. VALLEY OF THE RHONE.


Marseille.

In order to reach the south of Spain, the longest route is that which,
passing through France, leads by Bayonne to the centre of the northern
frontier of the Peninsula, which it then traverses from end to end. It
is not the longest in actual distance; but in regard to time, and to
fatigue, and (for all who do not travel by Diligence), by far the
longest, with regard to expense. Another route, longer, it is true, in
distance, but shorter with respect to all these other considerations, is
that by Lyons and Marseille; from either of which places, the journey
may be made entirely by steam.

The shortest of all, and in every respect, is that by the Gibraltar
mail, which leaves London and Falmouth once a week. This is a quicker
journey than that through France, even for an inhabitant of France,
supposing him resident at Paris, and to proceed to England _viâ le
Hâvre_. But there is an objection to this route for a tourist. Desirous
of visiting foreign scenes, he will find it too essentially an English
journey--direct, sure, and horribly business-like and monotonous. You
touch, it is true, at Lisbon, where during a few hours, you may escape
from the beef and Stilton cheese, if not from the Port wine; and where
you may enjoy the view of some fine scenery; but all the rest is
straight-forward, desperate paddling night and day; with the additional
objection, that being surrounded by English faces, living on English
fare, and listening to English voices, the object of the traveller--that
of quitting England--is not attained; since he cannot be said to have
left that country, until he finds himself quarrelling with his rapacious
boatman on the pier of the glittering Cadiz.

Although this arrangement may possess the merit of the magic transition
from England to Andalucia, which, it must be allowed, is a great
one--many will prefer being disembarked in France; looking forward,
since there is a time for all things, to a still more welcome
disembarkation on England's white shores, when the recollected
vicissitudes of travel shall have disposed them to appreciate more than
ever her comforts and civilization, and to be more forgiving to her
defects; and, should they not be acquainted with the banks of the Rhone
below Lyons, adopting that equally commodious and infinitely more varied
course.

In fact, there are few who will not agree with me in pronouncing this
the best way, for the tourist, of approaching Spain. It is not every
one, who will not consider the gratifications which the inland territory
of the Peninsula may offer to his curiosity too dearly purchased by the
inconveniences inseparable from the journey. Add to this the superiority
of the maritime provinces, with scarcely any exception, in point of
climate, civilization, and attractions of every sort. Valencia,
Barcelona, Malaga, and Cadiz are more agreeable places of residence, and
possess more resources than even Madrid; but their chief advantage is a
difference of climate almost incredible, from the limited distance which
separates them from the centre of the Peninsula. The Andalucian coast
enjoys one of the best climates in the world; while the Castiles,
Aragon, and La Mancha can hardly be said to possess the average
advantages in that respect; owing to the extremes of cold and heat,
which characterize their summer and winter seasons, and which, during
autumn and spring, are continually alternating in rapid transition.

Andalucia unites in a greater degree than the other maritime provinces,
the advantages which constitute their superiority over the rest of
Spain. It does more, for it presents to the stranger a combination of
the principal features of interest, which render the Peninsula more
especially attractive to the lover of travel. It is, in fact, to Spain
what Paris is to France; Moscow and Petersburg to Russia. England,
Italy, and Germany are not fit subjects for illustrating the comparison;
their characteristic features of attraction and interest being
disseminated more generally throughout all their provinces or states.
Whoever wishes to find Spain herself, unalloyed, in her own character
and costume, and in her best point of view, should disembark in
Andalucia.

There, unlike the Castiles, and the still more northern provinces, in
which only the earth and air remain Spanish, and those not the best
Spanish--where all the picturesque and original qualities that
distinguish the population, are fast fading away--the upper classes in
their manners and costumes, and the Radicals in their politics, striving
to become French--there, on the contrary, all is natural and national in
its half-Arab nationality: and certainly nature and nationality have
given proof of taste in selecting for their last refuge, the most
delicious of regions; where earth and heaven have done their utmost to
form an abode, worthy of the most beautiful of the human, as well as the
brute creation.

I will not pause to inquire whether the reproach be justly addressed by
the other Spaniards, to the inhabitants of this province, of indolence
and love of pleasure, and of a disposition to deceitfulness, concealed
beneath the gay courtesy of their manners; it would, indeed, be a
surprising, a miraculous exception to the universal system of
compensations that we recognise as governing the world, had not this
people some prominent defect, or were they not exposed to some peculiar
element of suffering, to counterbalance in a degree the especial and
exclusive gifts heaped upon them. By what other means could their
perfect happiness be interfered with? Let us, then, allow them their
defects--the necessary shade in so brilliant a picture--defects which,
in reducing their felicity to its due level, are easily fathomed, and
their consequences guarded against, by sojourners amongst them, in whose
eyes their peculiar graces, and the charm of their manner of life, find
none the less favour from their being subject to the universal law of
humanity. They cannot be better painted in a few words, than by the
sketch, drawn by the witty and graceful Lantier, from the inhabitants
of Miletus. "Les Milesiens," he says, "sont aimables. Ils emportent,
peut-être, sur les Athéniens" (read "Castillans") "par leur politesse,
leur aménité, et les agrémens de leur esprit. On leur reproche avec
raison cette facilité--cette mollesse de moeurs, qui prend quelquefois
l'air de la licence. Tout enchante les sens dans ce séjour fortuné--la
pureté de l'air--la beauté des femmes--enfin leur musique--leurs danses,
leurs jeux--tout inspire la volupté, et pénêtre l'âme d'une langueur
délicieuse. Les Zéphirs ne s'y agitent que pour repandre au loin
l'esprit des fleurs et des plantes, et embaumer l'air de leurs suaves
odeurs."

This passage is, word for word, so exactly applicable to the Andalucians
and their land, that it is difficult to imagine another people to have
sat for the portrait, nor to a more talented painter. It is a pity that
the author I quote, is a rarity in modern libraries: owing, perhaps, to
his descriptions being at times rather warm, or, as his compatriots
would say, _un peu regence_.

In Spain, the country of proverbs, they are very fond of summing up, by
the aid of a few epithets, the distinctive character of each province.
As bad qualities frequently predominate in these estimates, it is of
course usual for the individual, who undertakes the instruction of a
foreigner in this department of knowledge, to omit the mention of his
own province. After all, the defects attributed to the inhabitants of
one portion of a country by those of another, are not to be taken for
granted without considerable reservation; allowance must be made for
rivalry and jealousies. Almost every country affords examples of these
wholesale accusations laid to the charge of particular counties or
divisions of territory. Thus the character usually attributed in Spain
to the Andalucians, is that of a people lively, gay, of extreme polish
and amiability of manners, but false and treacherous. The Galicians are
said to be stupid and heavy, but remarkably honest; the Catalonians
courageous but quarrelsome, _mauvais coucheurs_. No doubt in some of
these instances, the general impression may be borne out to a certain
extent, by some particular class of the denizens of the province alluded
to; but such distinctions are rarely perceptible among the educated
classes. It is perhaps less easy in Spain than elsewhere, to establish
these classifications at all successfully. Contradictions will be met
with at every step, calculated to shake their infallibility. To our eye,
as foreigners, there are sufficient peculiarities belonging to the
nation universally, and respecting which our knowledge is far from being
complete, without attempting to classify a greater or smaller list of
subdivisions, the appreciation of which would require a prolonged
residence in the country.

Spain is looked upon by the greater number of strangers as a land
delivered over to depredation, and highly insecure. In fact, it is
surprising that such should not be the fate of a country in which
instruction is limited, and where, as I myself have witnessed, servants
may be known to be in the daily practice of stealing without their
dismissal being by any means a necessary result. It is surprising, that
in the absence of any strong natural objection to theft, any honesty
should exist in the presence of temptation; yet I know no country where
there is more, if I may form an opinion from the individuals of whom I
have had an opportunity of judging. However, as an instance of the
contradictions one meets with, the following event was represented as
having taken place in one of the provinces in which I had received the
favourable impression above-mentioned.

A ci-devant colonel, just arrived in Madrid, related the fact to me one
evening, on which, as chance would have it, I found him at supper.
Immediately on my entering the room he commenced complaining of the lack
of silver articles of necessity for the table, and accounted for it in
the following manner. He had recently arrived with his family from a
provincial town, in which he had filled a government situation. Shortly
before his departure he had invited all his friends to a leave-taking
repast; and after the departure of his guests nearly two dozen articles
of plate were missing. "In packing up," I observed, "no doubt some
dishonest domestic--" "No, no," he interrupted, "they were all pocketed
by my guests."

That the man in office should have conciliated the attachment of all his
acquaintances to such a degree, as that all should conceive
simultaneously the idea of preserving a _souvenir_ of his person, and
that in so delicate and unostentatious a manner,--was not possible. As,
therefore, I still retained my impression of the honesty of the lower
classes, and as the sufferer appeared to treat the occurrence as one by
no means extraordinary, I came to the conclusion, that--either Spanish
integrity, unlike that of other nations, must rise in an inverse ratio
to men's fortunes and stations; or that the author of the anecdote had
been tempted, by the desire of masking the (perhaps unavoidable)
deficiencies in his supper service, to have recourse to his inventive
talent, at the expense of his absent friends' reputation.

I believe it must be allowed that with respect to the disregard of the
rights of proprietorship, of which the lower classes are accused, there
are sufficient instances on record to counterbalance, in some degree,
my personal experience; but there is this to be urged in favour of that
class of culprits, where such are met with, that their mode of operation
is far more manly and courageous than that of the depredators of some
other climes--by which means they obtain also the full reputation of
their misdeeds. There may scarcely be said to be anything mean or
degrading in their manner of thieving: and their system is itself a
proof that they see no sin in it. They take to the mountains, and
declare open war against those whom they consider the unjust
monopolizers of wealth.

Instances of this sort are no doubt frequent in Spain; in Toledo they
relate that, some years since, the passes of Estremadura were occupied
by one of the most formidable and best organized of these bands, under
the orders of a female. Various versions were given of this woman's
history; but the one most accredited accounted in the following manner
for her having adopted the profession of freebooter. A young lady of
rank had disappeared from her family residence, leaving no trace by
which to guide conjecture as to her fate. It was therefore presumed she
had been kidnapped. The event, however, had already long ceased to be a
subject of conversation in the district, when three or four years after,
a traveller, who had escaped from an attack of banditti, announced the
fact of their being commanded by a woman. Although well disguised, her
voice, and delicate figure had betrayed her sex. The fact was
subsequently confirmed by positive discoveries; and, at length,
confiding in the alteration time and her mode of life had produced in
her appearance, she ceased to make a mystery of the circumstance, and
headed the attacks, mounted usually on a large black horse. Her age and
beauty coinciding with the description given of the young countess who
had disappeared some years previously, gave rise to the supposition of
their identity. The band has been since dispersed, and many of them
captured; but their chief has contrived to escape, and it is probable
the truth respecting her may never be divulged.

It is said she at times exercised more pitiless cruelties than are
usually practised by the male chiefs of the regular banditti; and that,
after such acts,--as though conscience-stricken,--she would, by way of
compensation, allow parties to pass unmolested.

From such instances as these a portion of the Spanish population must be
considered amenable to the charge brought against them; but there are
peculiarities of a different stamp, which mark the Spaniards in
general, and are more deserving of notice in a summary of the national
characteristic qualities. It is impossible, for instance, not to be
struck by the intelligence and tact, independent of cultivation, which
pervade all classes. Whether the denizens of these southern climes are
indebted to the purity of their atmosphere, for this gift of rapid
perception, in which they surpass our northern organizations, or to
whatever cause they may owe it; the fact leads to involuntary
speculation on what might have been the results, in a country so
distinguished, besides, by its natural advantages, had the Arab
supremacy lasted until our days. At a period when education was
generally held in no estimation in Europe, the first care of almost
every sovereign of that race was usually directed to the establishment,
or improvement, of the public schools, in which the sciences and
languages were taught at the royal expense. No town being unprovided
with its schools, it is difficult to imagine to what degree of
superiority over the rest of Europe the continuation of such a system
would have raised a people so gifted as to be capable of supplying, by
natural intelligence, the almost universal absence of information and
culture.

You continually meet with such instances of uncultivated intelligence as
the following. I was occupied in sketching in a retired part of the
environs of Madrid, when a ragged, half-naked boy, not more than ten or
eleven years of age, and employed in watching sheep, having to pass near
me, stopped to examine my work. He remained for nearly a quarter of an
hour perfectly still, making no movement except that of his eyes, which
continually travelled from the paper to the landscape, and back from
that to the paper. At length, going away, he exclaimed, "Que paciencia,
Dios mio!"

The following is an example of the absence of cultivation, where it
might have been expected to exist. A student leaving the university of
Toledo, at the age of twenty-seven, told me he had studied there eleven
years, and had that day received his diploma of barrister, which, when
sent to Madrid, where it would be backed by the sanction of the
minister, would authorise him to practise his profession in any town
throughout Spain. In the course of the same conversation, he asked me
whether Russia was not situated in the Mediterranean, and whether
England did not form a portion of that country.

Tact and good manners are so universal among the lower classes, that a
more familiar intercourse than we are accustomed to, can be allowed
between persons of different ranks. Those of the highest class are seen,
during a journey, dining at the same table with their servants; and on
all other occasions entering into conversation with them. This
intercourse of good nature and good understanding, universally existing
between superiors and inferiors, and which is never known to degenerate
into familiarity, would preserve Spain a long time from revolutions of a
popular origin--were she left to herself. The Spaniard of the lowest
station has as considerable an idea of his personal consequence as a
marquis, and maintains with his equals all the forms of high breeding.
If you stop to listen to the discussions of a knot of ragged children
playing at marbles, you will hear them address each other by the title
of Señor.

The urbanity and polish which prevails throughout all classes is
genuine, and the result of good-nature. This is proved by their
readiness to render all sorts of services as soon as they are acquainted
with you, and even before; and _that_ notwithstanding their suspicion
and dislike of strangers, a disposition for which they have ample cause.
I don't mean to include services which might incur pecuniary outlay; it
would be something like requesting the loan of the Highlander's
inexpressibles. Although even of this a remarkable instance has fallen
under my observation,--the capability existing,--but they will spare no
trouble nor time: doubling the value of the obligation by the graceful
and earnest manner of rendering it.

Should your reception by a Spaniard be marked by coldness, it is
generally to be accounted for by a very excusable feeling. The Spaniard
is usually deeply preoccupied by the unfortunate state of his country.
This subject of continual reflection operating on a character singularly
proud, but which is at the same time marked by a large share of
modesty,--qualities by no means incompatible,--occasions him a sensation
when in presence of a foreigner nearly approaching to suffering. He
feels a profound veneration for the former glories of his land, and
admiration of its natural superiority; but he is distrustful of his
modern compatriots, of whom he has no great opinion. His anxiety is,
therefore, extreme with regard to the judgment which a Frenchman or
Englishman may have formed respecting his countrymen and country: and he
is not at his ease until satisfied on that point; fearing that the
backward state of material civilization may be attributed by them to
hopeless defects in the national character, and diminish their respect
for his country. He is restored to immediate peace of mind by a delicate
compliment, easily introduced, on the ancient grandeur of Spain, or the
eternal splendour of her skies and soil, and especially by an expression
of disapproval of the influence which foreign governments seem desirous
of arrogating to themselves over her political destinies.

Should the stranger delay the application of some such soothing balm, he
will not hesitate to provoke it, by ingeniously leading the conversation
in the direction he wishes, and then heaping abuse and censure on his
compatriots.

The interference of foreign governments in their politics is, in fact,
one of the consequences of the present national inferiority, the most
galling to their feelings. This is accounted for by the high
independence, which is one of the principal features of their character,
and is observable in the most insignificant events of their daily life.
The practice which prevails in some countries, of meddling each with his
(and even _her_) neighbour's concerns, and of heaping vituperation where
a man's conduct or opinions differ from his who speaks, is one of the
most repugnant to the Spanish nature. If a Spaniard hears such a
conversation, he stares vacantly, as though he comprehended nothing; and
the natural expression traceable on not a few countenances and attitudes
may be translated, "I don't interfere in your affairs, pray don't
trouble yourself about mine."

It is curious to trace this in their favourite sayings, or proverbs
(_refrans_), by which the national peculiarities of character are
admirably depicted. Of these no people possess so complete a collection.
The following is one which expresses the feeling to which I allude:

    El Marques de Santa Cruz hizó
    Un palacio en el Viso:
    Porque pudó, y porque quisó.

or, translated,

    What could induce Sir Santa Cruz to
    Build a house the Viso close to?
    --He had the money, and he chose to.

I place, in the translation, the edifice close to the Viso, instead of
upon it, as in the original text. I doubt whether any apology is
necessary for this poetical licence, by which the intention of the
proverb undergoes no alteration. It is true, a house may be close to a
hill without being erected upon it; but if, as in this instance, it is
on the top of the hill, it is most certainly close to it likewise.

The submission of the Spaniards to the despotism of etiquette and custom
in trifles, does not (otherwise than apparently) constitute a
contradiction to this independence of character. However that may be,
the breach of all other laws meets with easier pardon, than that of the
laws of custom. This code is made up of an infinity of minute
observances, many of which escape the notice of a foreigner, until
accustomed by degrees to the manners of those who surround him. He will
not, for instance, discover, until he has made himself some few
temporary enemies, that no greater insult can be offered to a person of
rank, or in authority, than saluting him in a cloak _embozado_--the
extremity thrown over the shoulder.--A similar neglect is not pardoned
either by the fair sex. The minutest peculiarities in dress are
observed, and if at all discordant with the received mode of the day,
incur universal blame. The situation of a stranger is, in fact, at first
scarcely agreeable in a country in which the smallest divergence from
established customs attracts general attention and criticism. This does
not, however, interfere with the ready good-nature and disposition to
oblige met with, as I said before, on all occasions.

In some instances the attachment to external forms operates
advantageously. Such is that of the picturesque practice prevailing in
many of the provinces, of assuming the quality of the _Beata_. In
Toledo, certain peculiarities in the toilette of one of a group of young
ladies attracted my curiosity. She was apparently about seventeen;
pretty, but by no means remarkably so for a Spaniard, and appeared to be
in deep mourning. Whenever, in speaking, a movement of her right hand
and arm lifted up her mantilla, a japanned leather sash was exposed to
view, of about two inches in width, an end of which hanging from the
right side, reached rather lower than the knee. On the right sleeve,
half-way between the shoulder and the elbow, was fixed a small silver
plate, called an _escudo_, and a rosary was worn round her neck.

I was informed, on inquiry, that she was _una beata_; and being still in
the dark, my informant related her story. He commenced by the inquiry,
whether I had heard of a young man being drowned four months previously
in the Tagus. I replied that I had heard of thirty or forty; for he
referred to the bathing season, during which, as the river is sown with
pits and precipices, and unprovided with humane societies, accidents
occur every day. He then named the victim, of whose death I had in fact
heard. He was a youth of the age of twenty, and the _novio_ (intended)
of the young lady in black. On hearing suddenly, and without
preparation, the fatal news, she had been seized with a profuse vomiting
of blood, and had continued dangerously ill during several weeks. She
was now convalescent, and had made her appearance in society for the
first time.

My informant added, on my repeating the inquiry respecting the costume,
that it is the custom for a young lady, on recovering from a serious
illness, to offer herself to the _Virgen de los dolores_; the external
sign of the vow consisting in the adoption of a dress similar to that
worn by the Virgin in the churches. The obligation assumed lasts
generally during a year; although some retain the dress for the
remainder of their life. Examples are known of this practice among the
other sex; in which case the costume is that of a Franciscan friar; but
the _beato_ becomes the object of ridicule.

Among the forms of society to which especial importance is attached are
the ceremonies and duration of mourning for relations. The friends of
the nearest relative,--especially if a lady,--of a person newly
deceased, assemble day after day for a considerable time in her house.
All are in full dress of deep mourning; and the victim of sorrow and
society is expected to maintain a continual outpouring of sighs and
tears, while she listens to each consoler in turn. Much importance is
attached to the display of the usual appearances of grief, even when the
circumstances of the case do not necessarily call for it. Happening to
enter a house in which news had been received of the death of a
relative, who resided in another part of Spain, I found the lady of the
house discussing with a friend the form of her new mourning dress.

Struck by the melancholy expression of her countenance, and the redness
of her eyes, I inquired whether any bad news had been received. My
question gave rise to a renewed flood of tears; "Yes, yes," was the
reply; "I have had terrible news; my poor uncle, who had been afflicted
for years with dropsy, died only six days ago." I expressed my sincere
regret at so sad an event, while she continued her explanations to the
other lady. "I understand," she said, in a voice almost suffocated,
"that this sleeve is no longer to be--drawn in; and the--front,
according to the last--French--fashion,--is at least an inch--shorter."
Taking the opportunity of the first moment of silence, I asked for some
further details respecting this beloved uncle. "It was your Señora
mother's brother, I believe?" "No, no, the husband of my aunt: and
what--do you--think of the--mantilla?" After the reply of the other
visitor to the latter question, I continued,--"But your profound regret,
on occasion of the loss of so amiable a companion, is natural."
"Terrible, sir, yes--my poor uncle!" "Had you seen him shortly before
the sad event?" "Alas! no, sir, I never--saw him but--once in my life;
and--should not now have recognized him--for I--was then--only five
years old."

The Spaniards are not a dinner-giving nation; obedient, as some suppose,
to their proverb,--which although the effect, may also operate as a
cause,--namely, 'Feasts are given by fools, and partaken of "by wise
men." This proverb, however, paints the national character with less
fidelity than most others; the parsimonious selfishness it implies is
not Spanish. Sufficient reasons exist to account for the rarity of
dinner invitations.

Although the English are not responsible for the geniality of climate,
which corks up their crystallized souls to be enclosed fog-tight, until
released by a symbolical ceremony of the popping of champagne corks,--it
is not the less true that dinners are their only introductions to
acquaintanceship. Spaniards have corks also, and well worth the trouble
of drawing, as well as all the other _materiel_ of conviviality; but
they despise it, finding the expansion operated by their sunshine more
complete and less laborious. Their sociability no more requires dinner
parties than their aloes hedges do steam-pipes. With the exception of
their ungovernable passion for cold water, their sobriety is extreme;
and this may perhaps unite with a dislike to social ostentation in
resisting the exotic fashion of dinners. But bring a good letter of
introduction to a Spaniard, and you will find a daily place at a
well-supplied table, the frequent occupation of which will give
unmistakable pleasure.

In such case you are looked for as a daily visitor; not ceremoniously,
but as using the house when in want of a more cheerful home than your
_posada_. Æolus has not yet been appointed here the arbiter of
smiles,[9] and your entrance is always the signal for the same animated
welcome. The only variation will be a good-natured remonstrance, should
your visits have undergone any interruption.

To return to my route. Aware of the inconvenience of Spanish inland
travelling, and with Seville for my object, I proceeded to Lyon. Nor had
I long to wait for the reward attendant on my choice of route. Getting
on board the steam-packet at six o'clock on an autumn morning, I
experienced at first some discouragement, from the fog, which I had not
reflected was the natural--or rather unnatural--atmosphere of that most
discouraging of all places, a prosperous manufacturing town. No sooner,
however, had we escaped, by the aid of high-pressure steam, from these
deleterious influences, than our way gradually opened before us, rather
dimly at first, but more and more clear as the sun attained height: the
banks of the Rhone having, during this time, been progressing also in
elevation and grandeur, by eight o'clock we were enjoying a rapidly
moving panorama of superb scenery.

This day's journey turned out unusually auspicious. Owing to some
favourable combination of celestial influences, (although I perceived no
one on board likely to have an astrologer in his pay,) no untoward
accident--so common on this line--befell us. No stoppages--no running
down of barges, nor running foul of bridges--nor bursting of engines.
The stream was neither too shallow, nor too full, so that we were
preserved both from running aground, and from being run away with. Our
boat was the fastest of the six which started at the same time; and one
is never ill-disposed by a speed of eighteen miles an hour, although it
may be acquired at an imminent risk of explosion.

There is many a day's journey of equal or greater beauty than the
descent of the Rhone; but I know of none which operates a more singular
effect on the senses. It is that of being transported by a leap from the
north to the south of Europe. The Rhone valley, in fine weather, enjoys
a southern climate, while all the region to the north of Lyon is marked
by the characteristics of the more northern provinces. That town itself,
with its smoke, its gloom, and its dirt, maintains itself at the
latitude of Manchester; whose excellent money-making inhabitants, if
thrown in the way of a party of Lyonnais, would scarcely feel themselves
among strangers, so complete would be the similarity of habits and
manners. The transition, therefore, to those wafted down the sunny
valley of the Rhone, is as theatrical as the scenery itself, but with
the agreeable addition of reality. Every surrounding object contributes
to the magic of the change. Taking leave of a bare and treeless country,
and its consequently rough and ungenial climate, which, in its turn,
will necessarily exercise its influence on the character of the
population, you find yourself gliding between vine-clad mountains, not
black and rugged like those of the Rhine, but soft and rosy, and lighted
by a sky, which begins here to assume a southern brilliancy. The
influence of the lighter atmosphere first begins to be felt, expanding
the organs, and filling the frame with a sensation, unknown to more
northern climes, of pleasure derived from mere existence. Then the
language you hear on all sides is new and musical; for the crew of the
steamer is Provençal, and their _patois_ falls on the ear with something
approaching the soft accent of Italy; while their expressive eyes,
sunburnt faces, and a certain mixture of animation and languor--the
exact counterpart of the phlegmatic industry of the north, complete the
scene, with which they are in perfect harmony.

_A propos_ of harmony, when the sailors' dinner hour arrived, they were
summoned by an air of Rossini, played on a bugle; the performer--one of
their number--having first thrown himself flat on the deck, in the
attitude of a Turk about to receive the bastinado, and then raising his
chest, by the aid of his two elbows, to the height required for the
inflation of the instrument.

Nor is this leap from north to south so purely imaginary, since the boat
Sirius, aided by the furious current, actually paddled at the rate of
from seventeen to eighteen miles an hour; and we reached Avignon at
sunset, about five o'clock. The distance being calculated, allowing for
the windings of the river, will verify the rate maintained during the
day. Notwithstanding the odious nature of comparisons, I could not help
forming that between this river and the Rhine, and giving the preference
to the first. The bold though gloomy precipices of the Rhine yield, in
point of charm, to the more open expanse of the Rhone valley, and the
larger scale of the scenery, especially when the far more brilliant
lighting-up is considered. Nor does the Rhone yield to its rival, in
regard to the picturesque form and position of its castles and other
buildings; while its greater width, and handsome bridges, add an
additional feature.

The best scene of the day, and a fit climax for its termination, was the
approach to Avignon at sunset,--a superb Claude. A turn of the river
placed the castle--an immense mass crowning the city, and presenting an
irregular outline--directly between us and the sun, the sky doing away,
by its brightness, with all the details of the landscape. The principal
objects were, the broad expanse of water, and the mass of deep purple,
tracing its dark but soft outline on the blaze of gold at its back. On
turning to look in the opposite direction, a scene equally striking
presented itself. The mountains between which we had been winding during
the last half of the day, are, from this point of view, ranged in an
immense semicircle, extending round half the horizon, and at that moment
were tinged by the sun with a bright rose colour, while they scarcely
appeared at half their actual distance. It looked like the final scene
of an aërial ballet, when a semicircle is formed by the rosy sylphs who
have figured during the representation.

After the hurly burly of debarkation at Avignon, and forcing our way
through the army of luggage porters--a ferocious race, notorious, at
this place, for the energy, amounting often to violence, with which they
urge the acceptance of their kind offices--the picturesque look of the
place, and the necessary hour of waiting for dinner, led me to a scene,
which I accepted as a satisfactory greeting on my arrival in the land
of the troubadours. A group of half a dozen labourers, returned from
their day's work, were lolling in every variety of attitude, on some
large stones placed in front of the _château_. They were singing--and
with perfect precision of _ensemble_--each his part of the chorus. At
the conclusion of every _morceau_, the whole party made the façade of
the ancient palace echo with peals of laughter; after which they all
talked at once, until they had agreed on the choice of the succeeding
air.

The castle of Avignon--ancient residence of the Popes, shelters now a
different sort of inmates. It serves for barracks for a regiment of
infantry. At this moment the lamplighter had completed his rounds in the
interior, and given to each of the innumerable windows an undue
importance in the architectural effect of the mass. Such is the
irregularity of their distribution over this vast façade--or such it
appeared to be then, for I have not seen it by daylight--as to give them
the appearance of having been thrown at it by handfuls, and fixed
themselves each at its first point of contact with the wall.

Or by way of compensation for the extravagant supposition of so large a
hand, we can suppose the edifice diminished, and resembling with its
jagged outline, a ragged black cloak, which, having been stretched out,
to serve as a mark for rifle-shooters, would admit the light through
openings not less symmetrically distributed than these windows.

Between Avignon and Marseille, by the land route, the only spot of
interest is Aix. It is a well placed little town; although, in the
summer, its position must procure for it rather too much warmth. There
are no remains of king Réné's palace; nor could I learn that any
souvenir of him was extant, with the exception of a statue, which
represents the jovial old king of the _trouvères_ in the character of
Bacchus. This figure ornaments a hot fountain, situated at the head of
the wide street, planted with trees, by which the town is entered.




LETTER XVI.

VOYAGE TO GIBRALTAR.


Cadiz.

I have just returned from a visit to the signal-tower--the highest
look-out in Cadiz; from which is seen a panorama equalled by few in
Europe. The Atlantic, and its coast down to Trafalgar Cape--the mountain
distances of the Ronda--and Medina Sidonia on its sugar-loaf rock, like
an advanced sentinel--all Cadiz, with its hundreds of white
Belvideres--and the bright blue bay, decked with glittering white towns,
and looking (but with more sparkling glow) like an enormous turquoise
set round with pearls. But let not, I entreat you, these magic
words--Cadiz--Andalucia--raise your expectations unduly; lest they be
disappointed, on rinding that I fail in doing justice to this charming
country. With regard to this town, not only would it be a task beyond my
powers to paint its bright aspect and to give you a sufficiently glowing
description of its pleasures. It is not even my intention to partake of
these--being bent on accomplishing my principal object--the exploration
of the monuments of Seville. However let us not anticipate. You ought to
have had news of me from Gibraltar, where I made a much longer stay than
I had intended, owing to an unexpected meeting with an old friend.

The fact is, I put off writing until I should again be in movement,
hoping that my letters might thus acquire greater interest. I will
resume my journey from France, in which country we parted.

The steam-packets leave Marseille for the south of Spain every tenth
day; and I happened to arrive a day or two after one of the departures.
Rather than wait eight days, therefore, I agreed for my passage on board
a trader bound for Gibraltar; by which arrangement, as the captain
assured me that the voyage would only occupy five days, I was to be at
my journey's end before the departure of the Phénicien, as the
steam-packet was called. The latter, moreover, made no progress
excepting during the night, in order to afford the passengers an
opportunity of passing each day in some town; and being anxious to
arrive at Seville, I should not have liked the delays thus occasioned. I
do not, however, recommend the adoption of my plan; for the five days,
as it turned out, became twenty-four, and the Phénicien arrived at Cadiz
long before I reached Gibraltar.

The captain's prognostic of course supposed a favourable voyage; and I
was wrong in reckoning on this, particularly at the time of year, and in
the Mediterranean. I was wrong, also, in confiding in my Provençal
captain, who, in addition to various other bad qualities, turned out to
be the most inept blockhead to whom ever were entrusted lives and
cargoes.

My fellow-passengers consisted of a Marseille merchant, who possessed a
trading establishment at Gibraltar; a young French officer, on leave of
absence to visit his mother, who was Spanish; and a Moorish traveller,
proceeding homeward to Tetuan. From certain hints dropped by the
merchant, who was well acquainted with the passage, we soon learned the
probable character of our captain, as he belonged to a race not very
favourably spoken of by those whose goods and persons they were in the
habit of conveying; and these predictions being soon partially confirmed
by the man's incivility, we began to look upon him as our common enemy.
One of the accusations brought against his class was, a disposition to
reduce the supply of provisions within undue limits. This, however, we
could not lay to his charge, as the adverse winds rendered necessary an
extreme prudence in our daily consumption. My principal anxiety arose
from want of confidence in the capacity of the man for the performance
of his duties as a seaman. This anxiety was grounded on various symptoms
sufficiently striking to attract the notice even of a landsman; and more
particularly on a scene, during which his presence of mind, if mind he
possessed, totally deserted him.

We had passed several days off the Balearic Islands--or rather on and
off--for each morning we issued from behind Ivica, and returned at night
to take shelter under its cliffs; ours being the only vessel of several
performing the same passage restrained by fear from attempting any
progress during these nights. The reason of this we learned
subsequently. At length, when we did risk an advance, we chose the worst
moment of all: the breeze becoming a gale, and almost a head-wind, from
having been less unfavourable. Whatever may now have been our anxiety,
we could easily discover that the author of our misfortune was a prey to
more terror than ourselves.

Against this wind we proceeded, gaining about a hundred yards an hour,
during five days; at the end of which it changed slightly, and allowed
us to reach the entrance of the channel; that is, we had doubled the
Cape de Gata, and were off the south coast of the peninsula, nearly
opposite Almeria, and in the direct line of all the vessels entering the
Mediterranean; which, as they are sometimes delayed in expectation of a
favourable wind for passing the Straits of Gibraltar, were now bearing
down in great numbers. At this crisis the gale, which had all along
continued to be violent, became once more almost directly adverse, and
increased in fury.

Our gallant captain's features always assumed towards evening a more
serious expression. A faint tinge of green was observed to replace the
yellow of his usual complexion, and he passed the nights on deck, as
unapproachable as a hyena--by the way, also a most cowardly animal. At
length one day as evening approached, the wind was almost doing its
worst, and we went to bed tossed about as if in a walnut-shell--lulled
by an incessant roaring, as it were, of parks of Perkin's artillery.

It being essential to keep a good look-out, and to show a light
occasionally, in order to avoid being run down--the lantern--unable to
live on deck, from the water as well as the wind, which passed through
the rigging--was confided to the passengers, with a recommendation, by
no means likely to be neglected, to keep it in good trim, and to hand
it up with promptitude when called for.

At about twelve o'clock, sure enough, the call was heard, in the
somewhat agitated tones of the captain. The passenger, whose business it
was, for we took the watch each in his turn--immediately jumped up and
handed up the lantern. Thinking this sufficient, we remained as we were;
but in less than a minute, it was brought back extinguished, and thrown
down into the cabin. Immediately after a general view holloa was audible
above the roar of the storm, and the mate's voice was heard at the top
of our staircase, begging us to get up as we were going to be run down.

We now lost no time in making our way to the deck; no one speaking a
word, but each waiting for his turn to mount. Being furthest from the
staircase, or rather ladder, I arrived the last. On reaching the deck, I
was met by about a ton of salt water, which appeared to have mistaken me
for a wicket, as it came in as solid a mass, and with about the same
impulse as a cricket ball. Finding I was not to be dashed back again
down stairs, it took the opportunity of half filling the cabin, the door
of which I had not thought of shutting. On recovering my breath and
reopening my eyes, I discerned, by aid of the white bed-apparel of my
fellow passengers, a dim crowd, pressed together at the bow of the
vessel, consisting of all the inhabitants of the frail tenement,
excepting the steersman and myself. I rushed forward; but finding my
voice insufficient to add any effect to the cry which had been set up,
to give notice to the crew of the approaching vessel, I made for the
side, which I saw, by the position of the group, was threatened with the
expected contact; and catching at a rope ladder, placed myself on the
top of the bulwarks, resolved on trying a jump as the only chance of
escape in case of meeting.

There was now time to examine our situation perfectly well. I looked
towards the stern, and could see that the helm was not deserted: but it
was of no avail to save us from the danger; since, sailing as near the
wind as we could, as far as I understood the subsequent explanation of
the sailors, we could not change our direction on a sudden, otherwise
than by turning a sort of right-about-face. We went on, therefore,
trusting that the other crew would hear the cry, and discover our
position in time. The night being extremely dark, and the sea running
high, the approaching vessel was scarcely visible to us when first
pointed out by the sailors; still less should I have looked forward to
its threatening us with any danger; but the eye of experience had not
been deceived, and from my perch I was soon able to discover, as each
passage over the summit of a wave brought the dark mass against the sky,
that its approach was rapid, and directed with unerring precision, so as
to cross our course at the fatal moment. She was scudding before the
gale, with almost all her sails set, and consequently, on striking our
ship, nothing could save us from an instantaneous founder.

At each successive appearance the mass became larger and blacker; but
the cry of our crew, in which I now joined, never ceased. At length we
were only separated by the ascent of one wave, at the summit of which
was balanced the huge bulk of our antagonist, while we were far below
the level of her keel--but her steersman had heard the cry; for at the
moment when certainly no hope of saving--at least our ship, remained to
any of us, we saw the other swerve as she descended--and after
approaching to within half her length of our starboard bow, she glided
by at the distance of a yard from where I was standing.

I now drew a deep breath before I jumped down on to the deck; after
which, beginning to perceive that I was as wet as if we had been run
down, I was hastening to the cabin, when my progress was stopped by the
captain, who, without perceiving any one, was stamping up and down the
centre of the vessel, and actually tearing his hair with both his hands.
I paused to observe this tragic performance, which shortly gave place to
an indistinct and much interrupted speech, in which, in the intervals
left by all the oaths as yet invented in the French and Languedoc
tongues, there could be distinguished dark threats of vengeance,
addressed to the captain of the large brig, whom he was to discover
without fail on his return to Marseille.

All the passengers now descended to the cabin, and having stripped and
rolled myself in my cloak turned inside out, I threw myself on my couch.
We were now, in spite of recent experience, provided with a fresh
lighted lantern, to be produced on the next call. This we took care
still to look to, although we hardly expected more than one such chance
in one night.

It was past two, and we had scarcely left off discussing our narrow
escape, when another rapid and significant demand for the lantern
announced a second peril. On this occasion I took my time, for I had
reflected on the odds, which were immense, against our being a second
time so exactly in any one's way, where there was room for the whole
navigation of the world to pass abreast. Nor could I suspect any of my
fellow-passengers of being the unlucky Jonas of our misfortunes;
although the Moor was looked upon by some of the sailors with a
suspicious eye, for not consenting to partake of a leg of chicken, if
the animal had been killed and cooked by any other hand than his own,
and for the mysterious formalities they accused him of observing in
killing his poultry; such as turning his face in a particular direction,
and requiring the blood to flow in a particular manner--on failure of
which last requisite, he threw the fowl overboard. These things alarmed
the sailors, but helped, on the contrary, to encourage me; as I thought
the man's being possessed of a conscience and religious scruples,
rather, if any thing, an additional safeguard for us.

This time, therefore, I drew on my boots and trowsers; and, wrapped in
my cloak, proceeded in company with the Moor, who had taken it as
leisurely as myself, to join the party on deck. They had kept the
lantern in a safe position until the moment it would have the best
chance of taking effect, a proper precaution, as it was likely to be so
short-lived. And at the moment I arrived the order was being given to
shew it ahead. A sailor took it, and before he could reach the bow of
the vessel, a wave broke over him and washed his lantern fairly into the
sea. Upon this the captain said not a word, but running to the helm,
took it in hand, and turned the ship right round, presenting her stern
to the wind, and to the approaching vessel,--which we now soon lost
sight of, as we were not a slow sailing craft in a fair wind. Having
performed this masterly feat, and given orders that no change should be
made in any respect, he went to bed; muttering as he left the deck
various indistinct sounds between his teeth. The next morning we had
undone nearly all our six day's work, and before evening of the
following day, had returned to within sight of Cape St. Martin near
Valencia.

It was now a fortnight since we had quitted Marseille, and we were
nearly half-way to our place of destination; but Neptune took pity on
us, and having given the usual scolding to Eolus, we were allowed to
resume our course, although not at as good a rate as we could have
wished. The tempest had ceased, and by means of a feeble but fair wind
which succeeded, we regained in three days and nights almost all our
lost way, and were on the point of doubling the Cape Gata. Here we
remained stationary in a dead calm during another three days, after
which an almost imperceptible movement in the air in the wished-for
direction bore us to within sight of Gibraltar.

This progress along the southern coast lasted three days more, and
introduced me to the climate of Andalucia. At the end of November it was
still a splendid summer--but with just sufficient air to prevent our
suffering from the heat. The blue Mediterranean at length vindicated her
fair fame, and proved that one of her smiles had the power of throwing
oblivion over all the harm of which she was capable during her moments
of fretfulness. As you will easily imagine, I passed these delicious
days, and nearly the entire nights on deck. Our view consisted of the
magnificent precipices which terminate, at the shore, the Alpuxarras
chain of mountains. These are coloured with the various tints peculiar
to the ores and marbles of which they are formed; and now showed us all
their details, although we never approached within twenty-five miles off
shore. The purity of the atmosphere added to their great elevation, gave
them the appearance of being only four or five miles distant. The only
means of proving the illusion consisted in directing the telescope along
the line of apparent demarcation between the sea and the rock, when the
positions of the different towns situated on the shore were indicated
only by the tops of their towers. Among others, the tower of Malaga
Cathedral appeared to rise solitarily from the water, the church and
town being hidden by the convexity of the sea's surface.

With the bright blue sea for a foreground, varied by continually passing
sails, these superb cliffs formed the second plan of the picture; while
over them towered the Granada mountains of the Sierra Nevada, cutting
their gigantic outlines of glittering snow out of the dark blue of the
sky, at a distance of twenty leagues. The evenings more particularly
possessed a charm, difficult to be understood by the thousands of our
fellow creatures, unable to kill that fragment of time without the aid
of constellations of wax-lights, and sparkling toilettes,--not to
mention the bright sparks which conversation sometimes, but not always,
sprinkles o'er the scene. Now I do not pretend to speak with disrespect
of _soirées_, nor even of balls or ra-outes, as our neighbours say;
Polka forfend I should blaspheme her deity, depreciate her loudly
laudable energies, or apostrophize her strangely muscular hamstrings! I
only maintain that a night passed at sea, off the southern Spanish coast
in fine weather, does not yield to the best of nights.

The observation of the land, of the passing sails, and the management of
our own, and the various phenomena of sea and sky, having gradually
yielded to sunset and twilight--and these in their turn leaving the
vessel to its solitude, conversation became amusing between people of
such different origin, habits, and ideas, brought together by chance,
drawn nearer to each other by the force of circumstances, and by having
partaken of the same buffetings. The Moor would then offer a cup of his
coffee, or rather, according to the Oriental custom, a thimbleful of his
quintessence of that exquisite berry. Our French ensign was a tolerable
musician, and was easily prevailed on to unpack his cornet-à-piston, and
to astonish the solitude of the night, and the denizens of the deep, by
the execution of the favourite airs of Auber and Halevy. Sometimes a
bark too distant to be visible would hail us on hearing these unusual
strains; and faint sounds of applause would arrive as if from wandering
naiads.

At length one afternoon brought us in sight of Gibraltar. And now, lest
we should arrive without further mishap, our precious Provençal took
care to give us a parting proof of his incapacity,--which however,
thanks to our good fortune, did not bring upon us the annoyance it
threatened. The rock of Gibraltar was before us the whole of the
following day; but there appeared also in sight, somewhat to its left,
and at a much greater distance, a sort of double mountain, apparently
divided from the middle upwards by a wedge-formed cleft. The captain
replied to all questions by describing this object as consisting of two
distinct mountains, which he pronounced to be no others than the two
Pillars of Hercules,--promising us that the next morning we should see
them separated by the entire width of the Straits.

Far from suspecting the authenticity of this explanation, I innocently
inquired what was the large rock (Gibraltar itself) apparently much
nearer to us. "Oh!" he replied, "it was some promontory on the coast of
Andalucia, the name of which had escaped his memory;" adding that we
steered very slightly to the left of the said rock, because the wind
having increased, and blowing off shore, we could not make Gibraltar
otherwise than by keeping well into the shore, to prevent our being
driven towards Africa. All this about the wind was so true, that had we
preserved to the last the direction we were then following, we must
inevitably have gone to Africa, and added a day and a night to our
voyage.

The Marseille merchant, who had made the voyage twenty times, listened
to all this; but although very intelligent on most subjects, and more
particularly with regard to the qualities and value of silks and
quincaillerie, his notions of practical geography had not probably
attained any great development, as he appeared perfectly satisfied. I
therefore passed the day and retired that night filled with curiosity
respecting this remarkable promontory, that had escaped the notice of
Arrowsmith and the continental geographers. The following morning, to my
extreme astonishment, the double mountain was still as undivided as
ever, notwithstanding our having approached so near to the great rock as
to distinguish its colour, and the details of its surface. We were still
steering so as to leave it behind us.

I now began to suspect something was wrong; and getting hold of the
merchant, proceeded to question him closely, recalling to his
recollection the captain's explanation of the previous day, and the
consequent miraculous union of Gibraltar with the mountain of the
monkies, to accomplish which the former must have quitted Europe
subsequently to the publication of the last newspapers we had seen at
Marseille. His replying that he certainly thought the great rock put him
in mind of Gibraltar confirmed my suppositions; and I prevailed upon him
to repeat his opinion to the ignoramus, who was peaceably eating his
breakfast on the bulwarks of the quarter-deck. We went to him instantly,
and on hearing the remark, he merely observed that it was very possible;
and leaving his sausage, quietly proceeded to the helm, which he no more
quitted until we were in the bay at four in the afternoon. We had only
lost about five or six hours by the blunder; but had we continued the
same course another half-hour, we could not possibly have made Gibraltar
that day.

It was with more than the ordinary excitement of the organ of
travelling,--for if phrenology deserves to be called a science, such an
organ must exist,--that I approached this great Leviathan of the seas;
perhaps, all causes considered, the most remarkable object in Europe.
During the approach the interest is absorbing; and the two or three
hours employed in passing round the extremity of the rock, and
stretching sufficiently far into the Straits, to gain wind and channel
for entering the bay, slipped away more rapidly than many a ten minutes
I could have called to my recollection. The simultaneous view of Europe
and Africa; the eventful positions with which you are surrounded,--Tarifa,
Algeciras, and further on Trafalgar; the very depths beneath you too
shallow for the recollections which crowd into this limited space;
commencing with history so ancient as to have attained the rank of
fable,--and heroes long since promoted to demi-gods; and reaching to the
passage of the injured Florinda, so quickly responded to by that of
Tharig, followed by a hundred Arab fleets. The shipping of all nations
continually diverting the attention from these _souvenirs_; and,
crowning all, the stupendous mass of the now impregnable rock.

Amidst all this, I could not drive from my thoughts the simple and
patriotic old Spanish historian de Pisa, and the operation to which he
attributes the origin of this mountain. From him may be learned all the
details respecting this work of Hercules; as to which, as well as to the
motives of its fabricator, the poets of antiquity were in the dark.
Hercules had been induced, by the high reputation of Spain, of her
population, and her various natural advantages, to conduct thither an
army for the purpose of taking possession of the country. After having
put his project in execution, he remained in Spain, and enjoyed a long
and prosperous reign. The victory, which gave him possession of the
country, took place at Tarifa; and it was in its commemoration and
honour that before he established the seat of government at Toledo, he
assembled the conquered population, and compelled them to throw stones
into the sea, by which means, in a short time, this monument was
completed.

Before we set foot on this imperceptible trophy of a league in length by
two thousand feet high the French ensign and myself hailed a steamer as
we passed by her in the offing, and found she was bound for Cadiz, and
we must go on board the following afternoon. On landing, however, my
projects underwent a change, as I told you at the commencement of my
letter. There is not much to be seen at Gibraltar that would interest
you, except indeed the unique aspect and situation of the place. To
military men its details offer much interest. There is a large public
garden on the side of the mountain, between the town, which occupies the
inmost extremity, and the Governor's house near the entrance of the bay.
The batteries constructed in the rock are extremely curious, and
calculated to embarrass an enemy whose object should be to dismount
them. I thought, however, with deference to those conversant with these
subjects, that they were likely to possess an inconvenience--that of
exposing to suffocation the gunners employed in the caverns, out of
which there does not appear to exist sufficient means of escape for the
smoke.

The most amusing sight in Gibraltar is the principal street, filled, as
it is, with an infinitely varied population. Here you see, crowded
together as in a fair, and distinguished by their various costumes,--the
representatives of Europe, Asia, and Africa,--Arabs, Moors, Italians,
Turks, Greeks, Russians, English, and Spaniards, Jews, and,
occasionally, a holy friar conversing with some Don Basilio, appearing,
in his long cylindrical hat, as if blessed with a skull sufficiently
hard to have entered the side of a tin chimney-top, precipitated upon
it by a gust of wind.

Among all these a successful guess may here and there be risked at the
identity of the Andalucian leader of banditti, lounging about in search
of useful information. The contrabandistas are likewise in great
plenty.




LETTER XVII.

CADIZ. ARRIVAL AT SEVILLE.


Seville.

Cadiz is the last town in Europe I should select for a residence, had I
the misfortune to become blind. One ought to be all eyes there. It is
the prettiest of towns. After this there is no more to be said, with
regard, at least, to its external peculiarities. It possesses no
prominent objects of curiosity. There is, it is true, a tradition
stating it to have possessed a temple dedicated to Hercules; but this
has been washed away by the waves of the ocean, as its rites have been
by the influx of succeeding populations. Nothing can be more remote from
the ideas of the visitor to Cadiz, than the existence of anything
antique; unless it be the inclination to prosecute such researches: the
whole place is so bright and modern looking, and pretty in a manner
peculiar to itself, and unlike any other town,--since, like everything
else in Spain, beauty also has its originality. Nothing can be gayer
than the perspective of one of the straight, narrow streets. On either
side of the blue ribbon of sky, which separates the summits of its lofty
houses, is seen a confusion of balconies, and projecting
box-windows,--all placed irregularly--each house possessing only one or
two, so as not to interfere with each other's view, and some placed on a
lower story, others on a higher; their yellow or green hues relieving
the glittering white of the façades. Nor could anything improve the
elegant effect of the architectural ornaments, consisting of pilasters,
vases, and sculpture beneath the balconies, still less, the animated
faces--the prettiest of all Spain, after those of Malaga--whose owners
shew a preference to the projecting windows, wherever a drawing-room or
boudoir possesses one.

The pavement of these elegant little streets, is not out of keeping with
the rest. It would be a sacrilege to introduce a cart or carriage into
them. A lady may, and often does, traverse the whole town on foot, on
her way to a ball. It is a town built as if for the celebration of a
continual carnival. Nor does the charge brought against the Gaditanas,
of devotion to pleasure, cause any surprise: were they not, they would
be misplaced in Cadiz. Hither should the victim of spleen and melancholy
direct his steps. Let him choose the season of the carnival. There is
reason to suspect that the advertiser in the Herald had this remedy in
view, when he promised a certain cure to "clergymen and noblemen, who
suffer from blushing and despondency, delusion, thoughts of self-injury,
and groundless fear:" these symptoms being indications of an attack of
that northern epidemy, which takes its name from a class of fallen
angels of a particular hue.

In Cadiz, in fact, does Carnival--that modern Bacchus of fun, give a
loose to his wildest eccentricities--nor may those who are least
disposed to do homage to the god escape his all-pervading influence. All
laws yield to his, during his three days of Saturnalia. Not the least
eccentric of his code is that one, which authorizes the baptism of every
passenger in a street with the contents of jugs, bestowed from the fair
hands of vigilant angels who soar on the second-floor balconies. The
statute enjoins also the expression of gratitude for these favours,
conveyed with more or less precision of aim, in the form of hen's
eggs--of which there is consequently a scarcity on breakfast-tables on
the mornings of these festive days. At eleven o'clock each night, four
spacious buildings scarcely suffice for the masquerading population.

But the paddles have been battering for some hours the waters of the
Guadalquivir, and we are approaching Seville, a city given to less
turbulent propensities--where Pleasure assumes a more timid gait, nor
cares to alarm Devotion--a partner with whom she delights, hand in hand,
to tread this marble-paved Paradise. The passage between Cadiz and
Seville, is composed of two hours of sea, and eight or nine of river.
The beautiful bay, and its white towns, with Cadiz itself, looking in
the sunshine like a palace of snow rising out of the sea--have no power
now to rivet the attention, nor to occupy feelings already glowing with
the anticipation of a sail between the banks of the Guadalquivir. A
ridge of hidden rocks lengthens the approach, compelling the pilot to
describe a large semicircle, before he can make the mouth of the river.
This delay is a violent stimulant to one's impatience. At length we have
entered the ancient Betis; and leaving behind the active little town of
St. Lucar, celebrated for its wines, and for those of the neighbouring
Xeres, of which it embarks large quantities--we are gliding between
these famous shores.

Great, indeed, is the debt they owe to the stirring events that have
immortalized these regions, for they are anything but romantic. Nothing
can be less picturesque;--all the flatness of Holland, without the
cultivation, and the numerous well-peopled villages, which diminish the
monotonous effect. On the right are seen at some distance the wooded
hills of Xeres; but for scores of miles, on the opposite side, all is
either marsh, or half-inundated pasture, with here and there some
thinly-scattered olive trees, and herds of oxen for its sole living
occupants. At a few leagues from Seville, the increased frequency of the
olive grounds--a few villages and convents, and at length the darker
green masses of the orange groves, give rapidly strengthening
indications of approaching civilization; and you are landed a short
distance below the town, to reach which, it is necessary to traverse the
Christina Gardens. The cathedral occupies this southern extremity of the
city; and on your way to the inn, you may make an estimate of the length
of one side of its immense quadrangular enclosure. Immediately beyond
this you are received into the inevitable labyrinth of crooked lanes,
peculiar to an Arab town.

The steam trip from Cadiz is so easy a day's journey, that no necessity
for repose or refitting interferes with the impatience of those who
arrive to explore the external town. You speedily, therefore, sally
forth, and thread a few of the mazy streets; but without venturing too
far, on account of the evident risk of losing your way. Should you
chance to stumble on the Plaza Mayor,--called Plaza de San
Francisco,--you are at once rewarded by the view of the _ayuntamiento_,
one of the most elegant edifices in Spain: otherwise the extreme
simplicity of the bare, irregular, but monotonous white houses, will
create disappointment--you will stare about in the vain search of the
magnificence, so much extolled, of this semi-Moorish capital, and
discover, that nothing can be plainer, more simple, more ugly, than the
exterior of the Seville habitations. At length, however, some open door,
or iron grille, placed on a line with an inner court, will operate a
sudden change in your ideas, and afford a clue to the mystery. Through
this railing, generally of an elegant form, is discovered a delicious
vista, in which are visible, fountains, white marble colonnades,
pomegranate and sweet lemon-trees, sofas and chairs (if in summer), and
two or three steps of a porcelain staircase.

You now first appreciate the utility of the more than plain exteriors of
the houses of this town; and you admire an invention, which adds to the
already charming objects, composing the interior of these miniature
palaces, a beauty still greater than that which they actually possess,
lent by the effect of contrast. It is calculated that there are more
than eighty thousand white marble pillars in Seville. For this luxury
the inhabitants are indebted in a great measure to the Romans, whose
town, Italica, seated, in ancient times, on the opposite bank of the
river, four miles above Seville, and since entirely buried, furnished
the Arab architects with a considerable portion of their decorating
materials.

In a future letter I hope to introduce you to the interior of some of
these abodes, where we shall discover that their inhabitants prove
themselves not unworthy of them, by the perfect taste and conception of
civilized life, with which their mode of existence is regulated.

[Illustration: HALL OF AMBASSADORS, ALCAZAR, SEVILLE.]




LETTER XVIII.

THE ARABS IN SPAIN. ALCAZAR OF SEVILLE.


Seville.

The chief attraction of this most interesting of the provinces of the
Peninsula, consists in the numerous well preserved remains of Arab art.
The most sumptuous of their palaces are, it is true, no longer in
existence, nor the principal mosques, with the exception of the
metropolitan temple of Cordova: but there remain sufficient specimens to
shew, that their architecture had attained the highest excellence in two
of the principal requisites for excellence in that science--solidity and
beauty.

The superiority of the Arabs in this branch of science and taste is so
striking, that all other departments of art, as well as the customs and
peculiarities of that race, and the events of their dominion in this
country, become at once the subjects of interest and inquiry. It is
consequently very satisfactory to discover that one can examine almost
face to face that people,--probably the most advanced in science and
civilization that ever set foot in Europe; so little are the traces of
their influence worn away, and so predominant is the portion of it still
discernible in the customs, manners, and race of the population of this
province, and even to a considerable extent in their language.

There is something so brilliant in the career of the Arab people, as to
justify the interest excited by the romantic and picturesque (if the
expression may be allowed), points of their character and customs. Their
civilization appears to have advanced abreast with their conquests, and
with the same prodigious rapidity; supposing, that is, that previously
to their issuing from their peninsula, they were as backward as
historians state them to have been: a point not sufficiently
established. Sallying forth, under the immediate successors of Mahomet,
they commenced, in obedience to the injunction of their new faith, a
course of conquest unrivalled in rapidity. Their happy physical and
mental organization, enabled them to appropriate whatever was superior
in the arts and customs of the conquered nations; and whatever they
imitated acquired during the process of adaptation, new and more
graceful modifications. It has been asserted that they owed their
civilization to the Greeks; and, certainly, the first subjected
provinces being Greek, their customs could not but receive some
impression from the contact; but it is not probable that the Greeks were
altogether their instructors in civilization. Had such been the case
their language would probably have undergone a change, instead of
continuing totally independent of the Greek, and attaining to greater
richness. They are known to have possessed poets of eminence before the
appearance of Mahomet, consequently before they had any communication
with the Greeks; shortly after the commencement of their intercourse
with them, they shewed a marked superiority over them in geometry, in
astronomy, architecture, and medicine, and it would probably be found,
but for the destruction of so many Arab libraries, that they did not
yield to them in eloquence and poetic genius.

Established in Spain, they carried the arts of civilization--the useful
no less than the elegant, to the highest perfection. They introduced
principles of agriculture adapted to the peculiarities of the country.
The chief requisite for a country, parched by a cloudless sun, being
water--they put in practice a complete system of irrigation, to which
the Spaniards are still indebted for the extraordinary fertility of
their soil. Many other arts that have since been permitted to dwindle
into insignificance, and some altogether to disappear, were bequeathed
by them. The Morocco preparation of leather is an instance of these
last.

Their high chivalry, added to their moderation after victory, would have
divested even war of much of its barbarism, had they had to do with a
race less impenetrable, and more susceptible of polish than were the
iron legions of their Gothic antagonists. The persevering and repeated
acts of treachery practised by these, at last drew their civilized
adversaries, forcibly into the commission of acts of a similar
nature--it being frequently necessary in self-defence to adopt the same
weapons as one's enemy. When firmly settled in Spain, the Arabs no
longer appear to have taken the field with a view to conquest.
Abderahman the First, Almansor, and other conquerors, returned from
their victories to repose in their capital; contenting themselves with
founding schools and hospitals to commemorate their successes, without
making them instrumental to the increase of their domination. After this
time campaigns seem frequently to have been undertaken from motives of
emulation, and for the purpose of affording them opportunities for a
display of their prowess, and giving vent to their military ardour. They
considered an irruption on the hostile territory, or an attack on a
town, in the light of a tournament. The Christians, on the contrary,
fought with a view to exterminate, and without ever losing sight of
their main object--the expulsion of the Arabs and Moors from the
Peninsula. It was thus that they ultimately succeeded--a result they
probably would not have attained, had the Moorish leaders been actuated
by similar views, and displayed less forbearance.

Much of the misapprehension which exists in Europe respecting this race
is attributable to the exaggerations of writers; much more to the
absence of reflection in readers, and to the almost universal practice
of bringing every act related of personages inhabiting remote and
half-known climes, to the test of the only customs and manners with
which we are familiar, and which we consider, for no other reason,
superior to all others--making no allowance for difference of education,
climate, tradition, race. An European, subjected to a similar process of
criticism, on the part of an inhabitant of the East, would certainly not
recognise his own portrait--a new disposition of light bearing upon
peculiarities, the existence of which had hitherto been unsuspected by
their owner; and he would manifest a surprise as unfeigned, as a
Frenchman once expressed in my hearing, on finding himself in a
situation almost parallel. Conversing on the subject of a play, acted
in Paris, in which an Englishman cut a ridiculous figure--a lady present
remarked, that, no doubt, in the London theatres the French were not
spared; upon which the Frenchman I allude to--a person possessed of
superior intelligence--exclaimed: "How could that be, since there was
nothing about a Frenchman that could be laughed at?"

On reading of a reprehensible act attributed to a Mahometan, some will
brand Mahometanism in general, and of all times and places, with the
commission of the like crimes, placing the event at a distance of a
thousand leagues, or of a thousand years from its real place and date:
forgetting that power has been abused under all religions; and that we
only hear one side of the question with respect to all that relates to
the Oriental races--our information only reaching us through the medium
of writers of different and hostile faith. It is a singular fact that
the popular terror, which so long attached itself to the idea of a
Saracen, and which derived its origin from the conquests of the
Mahometans, has its equivalent in certain Mahometan countries. In some
parts of the empire of Morocco, the idea of a Christian is that of a
ruffian of immense stature and terrific features; calculated to inspire
the utmost fear in the breasts of all who approach him. Such is their
notion of his ferocity, that one of the emperors, Muley Ismael, in order
to terrify his refractory subjects into obedience, was in the habit of
threatening to have them eaten up by the Christians.

From the inferior value set on human life by the races of the East, we
accuse them of barbarity: forgetting, that, owing to the absence of all
analogy between our origin, races, and education, we are incompetent to
appreciate their feelings, and the motives of their conduct, and have
consequently no right to condemn them. If we abstain from taking our
neighbour's life, we set also a proportionate value on our own: a native
of the East displays, it is true, less veneration for his own species.
Deeply impressed with the dogmas of his religion, which form the guide
of his every day life, the habit of acting up to the doctrines which he
has been taught to believe, diminishes his estimate of the value of
temporal life, whether that of others, or his own, which he exposes on
occasions on which we should not be inclined to do so. He does not take
life for cruelty's sake, nor without provocation. Were he to be
furnished with Arabian accounts of the treatment of a London or Paris
hackney-coach horse, he would think of the noble and friendly animal
which carries him to battle, and turn in disgust from such a page.

The system practised at Constantinople of nailing to his door-post the
ear of the culprit detected in the employment of false weights, is, no
doubt, very discordant with our customs; but this mode of punishment is
said to be attended with such success, as to do away almost entirely
with the occasion for it. Were it adopted in some other capitals, it
would certainly at first disfigure many a neatly adorned entrance, and
give additional occupation to painters; but the result might possibly be
a more universal observance of the injunction contained in the eighth
commandment. As far as regards the Arabs of Spain, it may be securely
affirmed, that, during the course of their triumphs, and long before
they had attained their highest civilization, no cruelties were
exercised by them, which came near to the barbarity of those practised
subsequently by their Christian adversaries on victims of a different
creed, when in their power. We may instance the example set by St.
Ferdinand, who, it is said, when burning some Moors, piously stirred up
the fire himself in the public place of Palencia.

It cannot, however, be denied that cases of cruelty have occurred, and
are related in history of the Arabs, although they are rare among those
of Spain; but, if cruel, the Arab never added hypocrisy to his cruelty.
After having ravaged all Andalucia with fire and famine, St. Ferdinand
formed the project of proceeding to Africa the following year, in order
to attack the inhabitants of that country. His death interrupted the
course of these humane projects. Being dropsical, and feeling his end
approaching, he called for his son Alphonso, afterwards his successor,
to whom this prince--cut off in the midst of his thirsty longings for
blood and slaughter--is related to have given "the counsels, which the
sentiments of piety, justice, and love for mankind, with which he was
filled, inspired so great a monarch."

As for the degenerate modern tribes, descendants of some of the most
civilized of former days, we have witnessed their contest, _pro aris et
focis_, during the last few years, against a sample of the Christians of
to-day: the mode of making war is perfectly similar on both sides.

It is a no less curious _travers_ of human nature, from its being an
almost universal one--that of which the modern Spaniards afford an
example. They apply the term "barbarians" to the descendants of their
Moorish compatriots, although they themselves have scarcely advanced a
step in civilization since the day that, in the public place of Granada,
Ferdinand the Catholic burned one million five thousand Arab books,
being all he could collect throughout Spain; showing what tremendous
power may be wielded by a single human hand, when applied to the task of
undoing. That King, by a single signature, accomplished an act which may
be considered as equivalent to retarding, by several centuries, the
civilization of a great country,--perhaps, even, to cutting it off from
the only opportunity it was destined to possess, during the present
ages, of arriving at the summit which the more privileged nations are
permitted to attain; while it influenced injuriously the progress of
letters, science, and art throughout Europe. But we will no longer allow
digressions to delay our visit to the Alcazar, where we shall find
visible proof of Arab superiority, at least, in architectural science
and invention.

Passing to the east of the cathedral through the large open space, on
the left of which is the Archbishop's palace, and on the right the
cathedral and exchange, the embattled outer walls of the Alcazar stop
the view in front; varied here and there with square towers, and
containing in the centre an arched entrance. The present buildings
occupy the south-eastern corner of the ancient enclosure of the royal
residence, which comprised all the remaining space as far as the banks
of the river, passing round the south side of the cathedral, and, in
fact, including it in its precincts--an enclosure of about a mile and
a half in circumference. An old tower, or scrap of wall, indicates here
and there the position of the ancient buildings, the site of which is
now occupied by two or three _plazuelas_, or squares, and several
streets communicating between them. The present palace scarcely covers a
third of the original extent.

[Illustration: FAÇADE OF THE ALCAZAR, SEVILLE.]

Having passed through the first entrance, you are in a large square,
surrounded with buildings without ornament, and used at present as
government offices. At the opposite side another archway passes under
the buildings, and leads to a second large court. This communicates on
the left with one or two others; one of these is rather ornamental, and
in the Italian style, surrounded by an arcade supported on double
columns, and enclosing a garden sunk considerably below the level of the
ground. This court is approached by a covered passage, leading, as
already mentioned, from the left side of the second large square, the
south side of which--the side opposite to that on which we
entered--consists of the façade and portal of the inner palace of
all;--the Arab ornamental portion, the residence of the royal person.

At the right-hand extremity of this front is the entrance to the first
floor, approached by a staircase, which occupies part of the building on
that side of the square, and which contains the apartments of the
governor. The staircase is open to the air, and is visible through a
light arcade. The centre portal of this façade is ornamented, from the
ground to the roof, with rich tracery, varied by a band of blue and
white _azulejos_, and terminating in an advancing roof of carved cedar.
Right and left, the rest of the front consists of a plain wall up to the
first floor, on which small arcades, of a graceful design, enclose
retreating balconies and windows.

Entering through the centre door, a magnificent apartment has been
annihilated by two white partitions, rising from the ground to the
ceiling, and dividing it into three portions, the centre one forming the
passage which leads from the entrance to the principal court. Several of
the apartments are thus injured, owing to the palace being occasionally
used as a temporary lodging for the court. Passing across the degraded
hall, a magnificent embroidered arch--for the carving with which it is
covered more resembles embroidery than any other ornament--gives access
to the great court.

It is difficult to ascertain what portion of this palace belongs to the
residence of the Moorish Kings, as Pedro the Cruel had a considerable
portion of it rebuilt by Moorish architects in the same style. The still
more recent additions are easily distinguished. One of them, in this
part of the edifice, is a gallery, erected by Charles the Fifth, over
the arcades of the great court. This gallery one would imagine to have
been there placed with a view to demonstrate the superiority of Arab art
over every other. It is conceived in the most elegant Italian style, and
executed in white marble; but, compared with the fairy arcades which
support it, it is clumsiness itself. The court is paved with white
marble slabs, and contains in the centre a small basin of the same
material, of chaste and simple form, once a fountain. The arcades are
supported on pairs of columns, measuring about twelve diameters in
height, and of equal diameter throughout. The capitals are in imitation
of the Corinthian. The entire walls, over and round the arches, are
covered with deep tracery in stucco; the design of which consists of
diamond-shaped compartments, formed by lines descending from the
cornice, and intersecting each other diagonally. These are indented in
small curves, four to each side of the diamond. In each centre is a
shell, surrounded by fanciful ornaments. The same design is repeated on
the inside of the walls, that is, under the arcade, but only on the
outer wall; and this portion of the court is covered with a
richly-ornamented ceiling of Alerce, in the manner called _artesonado_.

On the opposite side of the court to that on which we entered, another
semicircular arch, of equal richness, leads to a room extending the
whole length of the court, and similar in form to that situated at the
entrance, possessing also an ornamental ceiling, but plainer walls. The
left and right sides of the court are shorter than the others. In the
centre of the left side, a deep alcove is formed in the wall, probably
occupied in former times by a sofa or throne: at present it is empty,
with the exception, in one corner, of a dusty collection of _azulejos_
fallen from the walls, and exposing to temptation the itching palms of
enthusiasts. At the opposite end a large arch, admirably carved, and
containing some superb old cedar doors, leads to the Hall of
Ambassadors. This apartment is a square of about thirty-three feet, by
nearly sixty in height. It is also called the _media naranja_
(half-orange), from the form of its ceiling.

[Illustration: GREAT COURT OF THE ALCAZAR, SEVILLE.]

In the centre of each side is an entrance, that from the court consists
of the arch just mentioned, forming a semicircle with the extremities
prolonged in a parallel direction. Those of the three other sides are
each composed of three arches of the horse-shoe form, or three-quarters
of a circle, and supported by two columns of rare marbles and jasper
surmounted by gilded capitals. The walls are entirely covered with
elegant designs, executed in stucco, the effect of which suffers from
a series of small arches, running round the upper part of the room,
having been deprived of their tracery to make room for the painted heads
(more or less resembling) of the kings of Spain, Goths and their
successors, excepting the Arabs and Moors. This degradation is, however,
forgotten from the moment the eye is directed to the ceiling.

In the Arab architecture, the ornament usually becomes more choice, as
it occupies a higher elevation; and the richest and most exquisite
labours of the artist are lavished on the ceilings. The designs are
complicated geometrical problems, by means of which the decorators of
that nation of mathematicians and artists attained to a perfection of
ornament unapproached by any other style. From the cornice of this room
rise clusters of diminutive gilded semi-cupolas, commencing by a single
one, upon which two are supported, and multiplying so rapidly as they
rise, some advancing, others retreating, and each resting on a shoulder
of one below, that, by the time they reach the edge of the great cupola,
they appear to be countless. The ornament of this dome consists of
innumerable gilt projecting bands, of about two inches in width; these
intersect each other in an infinite profusion of curves, as they stretch
over the hemispherical space. The artist, who would make a pencil
sketch of this ceiling, should be as deep a geometrician as the
architect who designed it.

On quitting the Hall of Ambassadors, we arrive at the best part of the
building. Passing through the arcade at the right-hand side, a long
narrow apartment is crossed, which opens on a small court called the
Court of Dolls (Patio de los Muceñas). No description, no painting can
do justice to this exquisite little enclosure. You stand still, gazing
round until your delight changes into astonishment at such an effect
being produced by immoveable walls and a few columns. A space, of about
twenty feet by thirty,--in which ten small pillars, placed at
corresponding but unequal distances, enclose a smaller quadrangle, and
support, over a series of different sized arches, the upper walls,--has
furnished materials to the artist for the attainment of one of the most
successful results in architecture. The Alhambra has nothing equal to
it. Its two large courts surpass, no doubt, in beauty the principal
court of this palace; but, as a whole, this residence, principally from
its being in better preservation and containing more, is superior to
that of Granada, always excepting the advantage derived from the
picturesque site of the latter. The Court of Dolls, at all events, is
unrivalled.

[Illustration: COURT OF DOLLS, ALCAZAR, SEVILLE.[10]]

The architect made here a highly judicious use of some of the best
gleanings from Italica, consisting of a few antique capitals, which,
being separated from their shafts, have been provided with others,
neither made for them, nor even fitted to them. The pillars are small,
and long for their diameter, with the exception of the four which occupy
the angles, which are thicker and all white. The rest are of different
coloured marbles, and all are about six feet in height. The capitals are
of still smaller proportions; so that at the junction they do not cover
the entire top of the shaft. This defect, from what cause it is
difficult to explain, appears to add to their beauty.

The capitals are exquisitely beautiful. One in particular, apparently
Greek, tinged by antiquity with a slight approach to rose colour, is
shaped, as if carelessly, at the will of the sculptor; and derives from
its irregularly rounded volutes and uneven leaves, an inconceivable
grace. The arches are of various shapes, that is, of three different
shapes and dimensions, and whether more care, or better materials were
employed in the tracery of the walls in this court, or for whatever
other reason, it is in better preservation than the other parts of the
palace. It has the appearance of having been newly executed in hard
white stone.

Through the Court of Dolls you pass into an inner apartment, to which it
is a worthy introduction. This room has been selected in modern times,
as being the best in the palace, for the experiment of restoring the
ceiling. The operation has been judiciously executed, and produces an
admirable effect. The design of this ceiling is the most tasteful of the
whole collection. Six or seven stars placed at equal distances from each
other, form centres, from which, following the direction of the sides of
their acute angles, depart as many lines; that is, two from each point;
or, supposing the star to have twelve points--twenty-four from each
star: but these lines soon change their directions, and intersecting
each other repeatedly, form innumerable small inclosures of an hexagonal
shape. The lines are gilt. Each hexagonal compartment rises in relief of
about an inch and a half from the surface, and is ornamented with a
flower, painted in brilliant colours on a dark ground.

The room is twenty-four feet in height by only sixteen wide, and between
sixty and seventy in length. At the two ends, square spaces are
separated from the centre portion by a wall, advancing about two feet
from each side, and supporting an arch, extending across the entire
width. These arches were probably furnished with curtains, which
separated at will the two ends from the principal apartment, and
converted them into sleeping retreats. Their ornaments are still more
choice than those of the centre. With the exception of this room, all
the principal apartments, and the two courts, are decorated from the
ground upwards to a height of about five feet, with the _azulejos_, or
mosaic of porcelain tiles, the colours of which never lose their
brilliancy.

The first floor is probably an addition made entirely subsequently to
the time of the Moors. It contains several suites of plain white-washed
rooms, and only two ornamental apartments, probably of Don Pedro's time.
These are equal to those on the ground floor with respect to the tracery
of the walls, unfortunately almost filled with white-wash; but their
ceilings are plainer. There is a gallery over the Court of Dolls, of a
different sort from the rest, but scarcely inferior in beauty to any
part of the edifice. The pillars, balustrades, and ceilings, are of
wood.

One of the last mentioned apartments has an advantage over all the rest
of the palace, derived from its position. It opens on a terrace looking
over the antique gardens,--a view the most charming and original that
can be imagined. This room must be supposed to have been the boudoir of
Maria Padilla,--the object of the earliest and most durable of Pedro's
attachments; whose power over him outlived the influence of all his
future liaisons. It is indeed probable that the taste for this
residence, and the creation of a large portion of its beauties, are to
be attributed to the mistress, rather than to a gloomy and bloodthirsty
king, as Pedro is represented to have been, and whose existence was
totally unsuited to such a residence. In the Court of Dolls the portion
of pavement is pointed out on which his brother Don Fadrique fell,
slaughtered, as some say, by Pedro's own hand,--at all events in his
presence, and by his order.

This monarch, were his palace not sufficient to immortalize him, would
have a claim to immortality, as having ordered more executions than all
the other monarchs who ever ruled in Spain, added together. It appears
to have been a daily necessity for him; but he derived more than
ordinary satisfaction when an opportunity could be obtained of ordering
an archbishop to the block. The see of Toledo became under him the most
perilous post in the kingdom, next to that of his own relatives: but he
occasionally extended the privilege to other archbishopricks. It is a
relief to meet with a case of almost merited murder in so sanguinary a
list. Such may be termed the adventure of an innocent man, who, seeing
before him a noose which closes upon everything which approaches it,
carefully inserts his neck within the circumference.

This was the case of a monk, who, hearing that Pedro, during one of his
campaigns, was encamped in a neighbouring village, proceeded thither,
and demanded an audience. His request being immediately granted, no
doubt in the expectation of some valuable information respecting the
enemy's movements, the holy man commenced an edifying discourse, in
which he informed Don Pedro, that the venerabilissimo San Somebody (the
saint of his village) had passed a considerable time with him in his
dream of the previous night: that his object in thus miraculously
waiting upon him was, to request he would go to his Majesty, and tell
him, that, owing to the unpardonable disorders of his life, it was
determined he should lose the approaching battle. It was the unhappy
friar's last sermon; for in less than five minutes he had ceased to
exist.

It stands to reason, that, owing to the retired habits of this friar, a
certain anecdote had never reached his ear relative to another member of
a religious fraternity. At a period that had not long preceded the event
just related, the misconduct of this sovereign had drawn down upon him
the displeasure of the head of the church.[11] The thunderbolt was
already forged beneath the arches of the Vatican; but a serious
difficulty presented itself. The culprit was likely to turn upon the
hand employed in inflicting the chastisement. At length a young monk,
known to a member of the holy synod as a genius of promise, energetic
and fertile in resources, was made choice of, who unhesitatingly
undertook the mission. He repaired to Seville, and after a few days'
delay, employed in combining his plan of operation, he got into a boat,
furnished with two stout rowers, and allowing the current to waft him
down the Guadalquivir, until he arrived opposite a portion of the bank
known to be the daily resort of the King, he approached the shore, and
waited his opportunity.

At the accustomed hour the royal cavalcade was seen to approach; when,
standing up in the boat, which was not allowed to touch the shore, he
made signs that he would speak to the party. The monkish costume
commanded respect even from royalty, and Don Pedro reined in his horse.
The monk then inquired whether it would gratify his Majesty to listen to
the news of certain remarkable occurrences that had taken place in the
East, from which part of the world he had just arrived. The King
approached, and ordered him to tell his story: upon which he unrolled
the fatal document, and with all possible rapidity of enunciation read
it from beginning to end.

Before it was concluded, the King had drawn his sword, and spurred his
horse to the brink of the water; but at his first movement the boat had
pushed off,--the reader still continuing his task,--so that by the time
Pedro found himself completely excommunicated, his rage passing all
bounds, he had dashed into the water, directing a sabre cut, which only
reached the boat's stern. He still, however, spurred furiously on, and
compelled his horse to swim a considerable distance; until, the animal
becoming exhausted, he only regained the shore after being in serious
danger of drowning. It may easily be imagined that the papal messenger,
satisfied with his success, avoided the contact of terra firma, until he
found himself clear of Pedro's dominions.

Quitting the room--that of Maria Padilla (according to my conjecture) by
the door which leads to the terrace, you look down on a square portion
of ground, partitioned off from the rest by walls, against which
orange-trees are trained like our wall-fruit trees, only so thickly that
no part of the masonry is visible. All the walls in the garden are thus
masked by a depth of about eight inches of leaves evenly clipped. In the
fruit season the effect is admirable. The small square portions next to
the palace thus partitioned off are laid out in flower-beds, separated
by walks of mixed brick and porcelain, all of which communicate with
fountains in the centres. The fountains, simple and destitute of the
usual classical menagerie of marine zoology and gods and goddesses,
whose coöperation is so indispensable in most European gardens to the
propulsion of each curling thread or gushing mass of the cold
element,--derive all their charm from the purity and taste displayed in
their design. One of the most beautiful of them consists merely of a
raised step, covered with _azulejos_, enclosing a space of an hexagonal
form, in the centre of which the water rises from a small block of
corresponding form and materials. The mosaic is continued outside the
step, but covers only a narrow space.

[Illustration: FOUNTAINS AT THE ALCAZAR.]

The terrace stretches away to the left as far as the extremity of the
buildings, the façade of which is hollowed out into a series of
semicircular alcoves; there being no doors nor windows, with the
exception of the door of the room through which we issued. The alcoves
are surrounded with seats, and form so many little apartments, untenable
during the summer, as they look to the south, but forming excellent
winter habitations. Arrived at the extremity of the palace front, the
promenade may be continued at the same elevation down another whole side
of the gardens, along a terrace of two stories, which follows the outer
enclosure. This terrace is very ornamental. From the ground up to a
third of its height, its front is clothed with the orange-tree, in the
same manner as the walls already described. Immediately above runs a
rustic story of large projecting stones, which serves as a basement for
the covered gallery, or lower of the two walks. This gallery is closed
on the outside, which is part of the town wall. The front or garden side
is composed of a series of rustic arches, alternately larger and
smaller, formed of rugged stones, such as are used for grottoes, and of
a dark brown colour--partly natural, partly painted.

The arches are supported by marble columns, or rather fragments of
columns,--all the mutilated antique trunks rummaged out of Italica. For
a shaft of insufficient length a piece is found of the dimensions
required to make up the deficiency, and placed on its top without mortar
or cement. Some of the capitals are extremely curious. Among them almost
every style may be traced, from the Hindoo to the Composite: but no one
is entire, nor matched with any part of the column it was originally
destined to adorn. Over this gallery is the open terrace, which
continues that of the palace side on the same level. The view extends in
all directions, including the gardens and the surrounding country; for
we are here at the extremity of the town. At the furthest end the
edifice widens, and forms an open saloon, surrounded with seats,
glittering with the bright hues of the _azulejos_.

From these terraces you look down on the portion of the garden in which
the royal arms are represented, formed with myrtle-hedges. Eagles,
lions, castellated towers,--all are accurately delineated. Myrtle-hedges
are also used in all parts of the gardens as borders to the walks. It is
a charming evening's occupation to wander through the different
enclosures of these gardens, which, although not very extensive, are
characterised by so much that is uncommon in their plan and ornaments,
that the lounger is never weary of them. Nor is the visible portion of
their attractions more curious than the hidden sources of amusement
and--ablution, by means of which an uninitiated wanderer over these
china-paved walks, may be unexpectedly, and more than necessarily
refreshed. By means of a handle, concealed--here in the lungs of some
bathing Diana in the recesses of her grotto--here in the hollow of a
harmless looking stone--an entire line of walk is instantaneously
converted into a stage of hydraulics--displaying to the spectator a long
line of embroidery, composed of thousands of silver threads sparkling in
the sunshine, as issuing from unseen apertures in the pavement they
cross each other at a height of a few feet from the ground, forming an
endless variety of graceful curves. Almost all the walks are sown with
these _burladores_, as they are termed.

A large portion of the grounds consists of an orange-grove, varied with
sweet lemon-trees. The trees are sufficiently near to each other to
afford universal shade, without being so thickly planted as to interfere
with the good-keeping of the grass, nor with the movement of promenading
parties. In the centre of this grove is a beautiful edifice,--a square
pavilion entirely faced, within and without, with the _azulejos_, with
the exception only of the roof. Around it is a colonnade of white
marble, enclosing a space raised two feet above the ground, and
surrounded by a seat of the same mosaic. The interior is occupied by a
table, surrounded with seats.

The subterranean baths, called the baths of Maria Padilla, are entered
from the palace end of the garden. They extend to a considerable
distance under the palace, and must during the summer heats, have been a
delightfully cool retreat.

This _alcazar_ is probably the best specimen of a Moorish residence
remaining in Europe. The Alhambra would, no doubt, have surpassed it,
but for the preference accorded by the Emperor, Charles the Fifth, to
its situation over that of Seville: owing to which he contented himself
with building a gallery over the principal court at the latter; while at
Granada, he destroyed a large portion of the old buildings, which he
replaced by an entire Italian palace. At present the ornamented
apartments of the Seville palace are more numerous, and in better
preservation than those of the Alhambra.

Both, however, would have been thrown into the shade, had any
proportionate traces existed of the palace of Abderahman the Third, in
the environs of Cordova. Unfortunately nothing of this remains but the
description. It is among the few Arab manuscripts which escaped the
colossal _auto-da-fé_ of Ferdinand and Isabella, and would appear too
extravagant to merit belief, but for the known minuteness and accuracy
of the Arab writers, proved by their descriptions of the palaces and
other edifices which remain to afford the test of comparison.

The immense wealth lavished by these princes, must also be taken into
consideration, and especially by the Caliphs of Cordova, who possessed a
far more extended sway than belonged to the subsequent dynasties of
Seville and Granada. According to a custom prevalent at their court,
rich presents were offered to the sovereign on various occasions. Among
others, governors of provinces, on their nomination, seldom neglected
this practical demonstration of gratitude. This practice is to this day
observed at the court of the Turkish Sultan, and serves to swell the
treasury in no small degree. Abderahman the Third, having granted a
government to the brother of his favourite, Ahmed ben Sayd, the two
brothers joined purses, and offered a present made up of the following
articles--accompanied by delicate and ingenious compliments in verse,
for the composition of which they employed the most popular poet of the
day:--Four hundred pounds weight of pure gold; forty thousand sequins in
ingots of silver; four hundred pounds of aloes; five hundred ounces of
amber; three hundred ounces of camphor; thirty pieces of tissue of gold
and silk; a hundred and ten fine furs of Khorasan; forty-eight
caparisons of gold and silk, woven at Bagdad; four thousand pounds of
silk in balls; thirty Persian carpets; eight hundred suits of armour; a
thousand shields; a hundred thousand arrows; fifteen Arabian, and a
hundred Spanish horses, with their trappings and equipments; sixty young
slaves--forty male, and twenty female.

The palace near Cordova, erected by this sovereign, was called Azarah
(the Flower) after the name of his favourite mistress. Its materials
consisted entirely of marble and cedar wood; and it contained four
thousand three hundred columns. It was sufficiently spacious to lodge
the whole court, besides a guard of cavalry. The gardens, as was usual
with the Arabs, formed the part of the residence on which were lavished
the greatest treasures of wealth, and the choicest inventions of taste.
The fountains were endless in number and variety. On one of the most
picturesque spots was situated an edifice called the Caliph's Pavilion.
It consisted of a circular gallery of white marble columns with gilded
capitals; in the centre rose a fountain of quicksilver, imitating all
the movements of water, and glittering in the sun with a brightness too
dazzling for the eye to support. Several of the saloons of this palace
were ornamented with fountains. In one, which bore the name of the
Caliph's Saloon, a fountain of jasper contained in the centre a golden
swan of beautiful workmanship--and over it hung from the ceiling a
pearl, which had been sent from Constantinople as a present from the
Greek Emperor to Abderahman. The mosque of this palace surpassed in
riches, although not in size, the Aljama of Cordova.

These were monuments worthy to have kings and caliphs for architects,
for such they had. There is no doubt that the palace of Azahrah was
planned and designed by the Caliph himself; and the founder of that
dynasty, Abderahman the First, not only designed the magnificent mosque
of Cordova, but presided daily over the progress of its erection.
Possessed, as these sovereigns were, as well as all the well-born
portion of their nation, of a highly cultivated education, the intervals
of leisure, left them by war, were rarely thrown away in idleness.
Abderahman the First was a poet, besides being a mathematician, an
architect, and the first soldier of his time. Some of his writings have
been preserved, and are among the Arab works collected and translated by
Condé into Spanish. The following stanzas, addressed to a palm-tree,
must be, as is always the case, still more beautiful in the original,
although charming in the Spanish. The monarch of the Western Empire,
after having vanquished his enemies, and pacified his dominions,--beloved
by his subjects and by all who approached him, and possessed of the
resources of science to occupy his mind, was nevertheless unhappy. He
preferred his home in Asia to the splendours of an imperial throne in
such a land as Andalucia. He caused a young palm-tree to be brought from
Syria, and planted in a garden formed by him in the environs of Cordova;
and it was his delight to sit in a tower constructed in the garden, and
gaze at his tree.

It was to this tree he addressed the lines thus translated:--

    Tu tambien, insigne palma,
    Eres aqui forastera.
    De Algarbe las dulces auras
    Tu pompa halagan y besan.
    En fecundo suelo arraigas,
    Y al cielo tu cima elevas,
    Tristes lagrimas lloraras,
    Si qual io sentir pudieras.

    Tu no sientes contratiempos
    Como io de suerte aviesa:
    A mi de pena y dolor
    Continuas lluvias me annegan.
    Con mis lagrimas regue
    Las palmas que el Forat riega,
    Pero las palmas y el rio
    Se olvidan de mis penas.

    Cuando mios infaustos hados,
    Y de Al. Abas la fiereza
    Mi forzaron de dexar
    Del alma las dulces prendas;
    A ti de mi patria amada
    Ningun recuerda ti queda;
    Pero io, triste, no puedo
    Dexar de llorar por ella.

It is probable that on the occasion of the surrender of Cordova to
Ferdinand the Third, the Moors destroyed their palace of Azarah, since
they were desirous of acting in a similar manner at Seville, with regard
to Geber's Tower. Perhaps from disgust at the idea that a monument, the
beauty and grandeur of which had inspired them with a sort of affection,
would be, being gazed at, trodden, and possibly disfigured, (as it
turned out) by those whom they looked upon as barbarians, and who would
not appreciate its perfection, they attempted to introduce a clause into
the conditions of the surrender of Seville, stipulating the destruction
of the tower.

By way of testifying to the accuracy of the opinion they had formed of
their adversaries, Saint Ferdinand was on the point of agreeing to the
clause: when his son, afterwards his successor, Alonso el Sabio, perhaps
the only Christian present, who felt sufficient interest in a square
mass of masonry, to care how the question was decided, energetically
interfered, affirming that a single brick displaced, should be paid with
the lives of the whole population.

This most perfect scientific monument left by the Arabs, for the
possession of which, after the architect, Europe is indebted to Alonso
the Tenth, we will presently examine, together with the cathedral, which
was afterwards erected, so as to include it in his plan.




LETTER XIX

CATHEDRAL OF SEVILLE.


Seville.

We have visited the most beautiful edifice in Seville; we are now
approaching the most magnificent. The native writers, participating
somewhat in the character attributed to the inhabitants of their
province, sometimes called the Gascony of Spain, declare this cathedral
to be the grandest in the world. This is going too far; setting aside
St. Peter's, and the Santa Maria del Fiore, the style of which renders
the comparison more difficult, the Duomo of Milan, of which this
building appears to be an imitation, must be allowed to be superior to
it, externally at least, if not internally. Had they ranked it as the
finest church out of Italy, they would not have been much in error, for
such it probably is.

No one in approaching, excepting from the west, would imagine it to be a
Gothic edifice. You perceive an immense quadrangular enclosure, filled
apparently with cupolas, towers, pinnacles of all sorts and styles, but
less of the Gothic than any other. These belong to the numerous
accessory buildings, subsequently annexed to the church; such as
sacristies, chapels, chapter-hall, each subsequent erection having been
designed in a different style. The cathedral is inaccessible on the
south side, that which we first reach in coming from the Alcazar. It is
enclosed here within a long Italian façade of about thirty to forty feet
elevation, ornamented by a row of Ionic pilasters, supporting an elegant
frieze and balustrade. We therefore ascend the raised pavement, which,
bounded by a series of antique shafts of columns, surrounds the whole
enclosure; and having passed down the greater part of the east end, find
a small portal close to the Giralda, which admits to the church through
the court of orange-trees. Before we enter, we will look round on this
view, which possesses more of the Moorish character, than that which
awaits us in the interior. Some idea of the general plan of these
buildings will be necessary, in order that you may perfectly understand
our present point of view.

I mentioned above, that the general enclosure formed a square. This
square, the sides of which face the four points of the compass, is
divided by a straight line into two unequal parts, one being about a
third wider than the other. The direction of the line is east and west;
to the south of it is the cathedral, to the north, the Moorish court of
orange-trees. The Arab Tower, now called the Giralda, stands in the
north-east angle of the cathedral, and the small door, through which we
have just entered, in the south-eastern angle of the court, is close by
it.

The court is surrounded by buildings; for besides the church on its
south side, a chapel called the Sagrario, runs down the entire western
end. The east side and half the north are occupied by arcades, which
support the library, the gift of the son of Columbus to the cathedral;
and the remaining half side by a sacristy. The buildings of the east and
north sides lean against the old embattled wall on the outside. The
chapel of the Sagrario to the west is in the Italian style. Avenues of
orange-trees, and a marble fountain of a simple but choice design, are
the only objects which occupy the open space. Throughout it reigns an
eternal gloom, maintained by the frowning buttresses and pinnacles of
the cathedral, which overhang it from the south.

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE CATHEDRAL, SEVILLE.]

A small doorway, near to that by which we entered the court, gives
access to the cathedral at all hours. On entering an almost more than
twilight would confuse the surrounding objects, did it immediately
succeed the sunshine of Andalucia; and were not the transition rendered
gradual to the eye by the deep shades of the orange court. As you
advance towards the centre nave, this darkness aids in producing the
effect of immensity, which is the next idea that presents itself. In
fact the enormous elevation and width of the edifice is such as at first
to overpower the imagination, and to deprive you of the faculty of
appreciating its dimensions. It produces a novel species of giddiness
arising from looking upwards.

To arrive at the intersection of the principal nave and transept, you
traverse two side naves, both about eighty-five feet in height, and
spacious in proportion. The centre nave is a hundred and thirty-two
feet, but rises at the quadrangle, forming its intersection with the
transept about twenty feet higher. The ceiling here, and over the four
surrounding intercolumniations, is ornamented with a groining of
admirable richness. That of the centre quadrangle is here and there
tinged with crimson and orange tints, proceeding from some diminutive
windows placed between the lower and upper ceilings.

After having sufficiently examined the upper view, the eye wanders over
the immense vacuum of the transept, and rests at length on the bronze
railings which, on the east, separate you from the high-altar, and on
the west from the choir. These are superb.

That of the Capilla Mayor rises to an elevation of sixty feet, and is
throughout of the most elaborate workmanship. It is the work of a
Dominican monk, who also executed the two pulpits. The choir forms, as
usual, a sort of saloon, which occupies the centre of the church, that
is, in this instance, two of the five intercolumniations which reach
from the transept to the western portal. Passing round it, in the
direction of the western doors, where the view is more open, the plan
and style of the building are more easily distinguished. They are
remarkably simple. The area is a quadrangle of three hundred and
ninety-eight feet by two hundred and ninety-one, and is divided into
five naves by four rows of pillars, all of about sixty feet elevation.
The width of the centre nave and transept is fifty-nine feet, and the
whole is surrounded by chapels. The distance between the pillars, of
which there are only eight in each row, has the effect of generalizing
the view of the whole edifice, and imparting to it a grandeur which is
not obtained in the cathedral of Toledo, of almost equal dimensions;
while the smaller and less gaudily coloured windows shed a more
religious ray, and are preferable to those of Toledo, which,
magnificent in themselves, attract an undue share of the observation,
instead of blending into one perfect composition of architectural
harmony.

Immediately above the arches of the principal nave and transept, at a
height of about ninety feet, runs a balustrade, the design of which
consists of a series of pointed arches. Above it are the windows,
reaching nearly to the ceiling. They are painted in rather dark tints,
and afford no more than a sort of _demi-jour_, which at the east end
decreases to twilight. Rather more light is admitted towards the western
extremity, from some windows of plain glass, in the lateral chapels,
without which the pictures they contain could not be viewed; but from
this end the high-altar is scarcely discernible. The simple grandeur of
this view loses nothing by the absence of all ornamental detail: the
portion most ornamented is the pavement, composed of a mosaic of the
richest marbles. About half-way between the portals and the choir, are
inserted two or three large slabs, bearing inscriptions; one of them is
to the memory of Christopher Columbus; another to his son. There are no
other details to draw the attention until we visit the chapels, in which
all the treasures of art are dispersed. A few pictures are scattered
here and there around the eastern part of the building; all of them are
good. A large one of Zurbaran, in the north transept, is a master-piece.
It represents St. Jerome, surrounded by an assembly of monks.

At the west end of the northernmost nave, the first door opens to a vast
church, called the chapel of the Sagrario, already alluded to as forming
the western boundary of the orange-court. It is nearly two hundred feet
in length; in the Italian style; the orders Doric and Ionic, but loaded
with heavy sculpture in the worst taste. After this a series of chapels,
of a style analogous to the body of the edifice, succeed each other,
commencing with that of San Antonio, and continuing all round the
church. Several of them contain beautiful details of ornament, and
handsome tombs. That of the Kings should be mentioned as an exception,
with regard to the architecture, since its style is the _plateresco_. It
contains the tombs of Alonzo the Tenth, and his Queen Beatrix, with
several others. The most beautiful of these chapels is that of Nuestra
Señora la Antigua, situated on the south side, below the transept. It
forms a square of about thirty feet, and rises to an elevation of
upwards of eighty. The walls are divided into stories and compartments,
and covered, as is also the ceiling, with admirable frescos by Martinez
and Rovera. At a side door leading to the sacristy, are two beautiful
columns of _verde antico_. The high-altar is composed of jasper, from
quarries which existed at the distance of a few leagues from Seville.
The statues are by Pedro Cornejo; and there are handsome tombs let into
the lower part of the walls. Four antique chandeliers, one in each
corner, are designed with uncommon grace and originality. From the
summit of a short column rises a silver stem, from different parts of
which spring flat rods of the same metal, so slight as to bend with the
smallest weight: they are of various lengths, and at the extremity of
each waves an elegantly formed lamp. Each of these clusters assumes a
pyramidal form, and produces a charming effect when lighted up on days
of ceremony,--from their harmonizing with the rest of the decorations of
the chapel, no less than from the elegance of their form.

Some of the chapels of this side, and east of the transept, communicate
with other buildings, erected subsequently to the principal edifice, and
consequently not comprised in its plan, nor analogous to its style.
Thus, after passing through the chapel called Del Mariscal, situated at
the south-east of the apse, you enter an anteroom, which leads to the
chapter-hall. The anteroom is an apartment of handsome proportions,
covered, in the intervals of a row of Ionic pilasters, with a series of
pieces of sculpture in white marble. The hall itself is magnificent. It
is an oval of fifty-seven feet in length, entirely hung with crimson
velvet enriched with gold embroidery. Another of the side chapels leads
to the smaller sacristy. I call it smaller because it is not so large as
that which adjoins the orange-court; but it is the principal of the two.
It is a superb saloon, upwards of seventy feet in length by about sixty
wide, ornamented with a profusion of rich sculpture. The architect was
Juan de Herrera.

From the floor to a height of about four feet, a spacious wardrobe,
composed of large mahogany drawers, runs down the two longer sides of
the room. These contain probably the richest collection that exists of
gold and silver embroidered velvets and silks,--brocades--lace--scarfs
and mantles ornamented with precious stones: all these are the ornaments
belonging to altars and pulpits; robes, trains, and vestures of
different sorts, worn on occasions of ceremony by the principal
dignitaries. The cathedral of Seville is said to surpass all others in
these ornaments.

In this sacristy are contained likewise the treasure of gold and silver
vessels, and basins; innumerable crosses, reliquaries, chalices, boxes,
and candlesticks; and, in an upright mahogany case of about twenty feet
elevation, lined with white silk, the front of which opens like a door,
stands the Custodia--a silver ornament about sixteen feet high,
including its base. On the day of the Corpus Christi, the Host is placed
in this Custodia, and carried in procession through Seville. The silver
of which it is composed weighs seven hundred weight. But it must not be
supposed from this circumstance that the ornament has a heavy
appearance. It is a tapering edifice containing four stories, ornamented
by as many orders of architecture. The general form is circular,
diminishing up to the summit, which supports a single statue. Each story
rests on twenty-four columns, most of which are fluted, and all,
together with their capitals, remarkable for their delicacy of finish.
Among these are numerous statues of saints, in whose costumes precious
stones are introduced. In that of the statue of Faith, which stands in
the centre of the lower story, are some of immense value. This ornament
was the work of Juan de Arfe, the Cellini of Spain.

But the pictures are the richest treasure of this apartment. It is an
epitome of the Cathedral, which may be called a gallery--one of the
richest that exists--of the paintings of Spanish schools: consequently,
according to the opinion of many--one of the best of all galleries. The
pictures are not in great numbers, but they are well adapted to their
situation, being the largest in dimension, and among the most prominent
in value and merit, that have been produced by their respective
painters.

By the greater portion of spectators, the Spanish artists, of what may
be called the golden age of painting, will always be preferred to the
Italian; because their manner of treating their subject, appeals rather
to the passions than to the understanding. It is the same quality which
renders the Venetian school more popular than the other schools of
Italy; and the Italian music more attractive than the German--Rossini
than Spohr or Beethoven. I do not mean that the preference will be the
result of choice, in an individual who appreciates the two styles
perfectly; but that the difference I allude to renders the works of the
greatest masters of Italy less easily understood.

With all the intelligence and taste necessary for the appreciation of a
picture of Raffaelle, many will have had a hundred opportunities of
studying such a picture, and will nevertheless have passed it by,
scarcely noticed; merely, because on the first occasion of seeing it,
they have not immediately caught the idea of the artist, nor entered
sufficiently into his feelings to trace the sparks of his inspiration
scattered over the canvass. How many are there too careless to return to
the charge, and thus to acquire the cultivation necessary to enable them
to judge of such works, who the moment a Murillo, or a Zurbaran meets
their view, will gaze on it with delight, for the simple reason, that it
is calculated to strike the intelligence the least cultivated.

The Spanish artists usually endeavoured to produce an exact imitation of
material nature; while the Italians aimed at, and attained higher
results. The object of the Spaniards being less difficult of attainment,
the perfection with which they imitated nature passes conception. To
that they devoted all the energies of their genius; while you may search
in vain in the best productions of Italy, not excepting the school of
Venice, the one that most resembles the Spanish,--for anything
approaching their success in that respect. By way of an example, in the
Spasimo of Raffaelle, we trace the operations of the mind, as they
pierce through every feature of every countenance, and the attitude of
every limb throughout the grouping of that great master-piece of
expression; from the brutal impatience of the one, and the involuntary
compassion of the other executioner, up to the intensity of maternal
suffering in the Virgin, and the indescribable combination of heaven and
earth, which beams through the unequalled head of the Christ; but there
is no deception to the eye. No one would mistake any of the figures for
reality; nor exclaim that it steps from the canvass; nor does any one
wish for such an effect, or perceive any such deficiency.

What, on the contrary, was the exclamation of Murillo before Campana's
Descent from the Cross? This master-piece of Pedro de Campana is seen at
the head of the sacristy of the cathedral. It was so favourite a picture
with Murillo, that he used to pass much of his time every day, seated
before it. On one occasion, his presence being required on an affair of
importance, which he had forgotten, his friends found him at his usual
post before the Descent; when, pointing to the figure of the Christ, he
replied to their remonstrances, "I am only waiting until they have taken
him down."

Although Murillo admired this perfect representation of material nature,
his own works are exceptions, in fact almost the only exceptions, to
this peculiarity of the Spanish masters. He partakes, indeed, of the
qualities of both schools in an eminent degree. In intellectual
expression and delineation of the operations of the mind, he is superior
to all his countrymen, but inferior to the first Italian painters. In
the material imitation of nature, he is superior to the greater number
of the Italians, but inferior to the other principal Spanish artists.
There is, at Madrid, a Christ on the Cross, of his, in which he has
attempted this effect--an effort he ought rather to have despised. The
picture contains no other object than the figure, and the cross of
admirably imitated wood, on a simple black, or rather dark brown
background, representing complete darkness. After sitting a short time
before it, you certainly feel a sort of uncomfortable sensation, caused
by the growing reality of the pale and tormented carcass; but it is not
to be compared to the Descent of Campana. There the whole group is to
the life, and no darkness called in to aid the effect. The drooping body
is exposed to a powerful light, and hangs its leaden weight on the arms
of those who support it, with a reality perfectly startling.

This picture is placed in the centre of the upper end of the sacristy,
as being considered the best of those therein contained: but it is not
without rivals. The few paintings placed here are first rate;
particularly the portraits of the two archbishops of Seville, San
Leandro, and San Isidore--two of Murillo's most exquisite productions.
Some of the greatest compositions of this painter are contained in the
chapels we have passed in review, where they serve for altar-pieces,
each filling an entire side of a chapel. Of these large pictures, I
think the best on the side we are visiting is the Saint Francis. The
Saint is represented kneeling to a vision of the Virgin. It may
certainly be ranked among Murillo's best efforts in the style he
employed, when treating these celestial subjects, and which has been
called his vaporous manner. To speak correctly, two of his three manners
are employed in this picture, since the Saint is an instance of that
called his warm manner.

On the opposite or north side of the cathedral, in the first chapel
after passing the door of the Sagrario, is the San Antonio. This is
probably the greatest work of Murillo in the two styles just mentioned,
and certainly the most magnificent picture contained in the cathedral.
On the lower foreground is the Saint, in adoration before the Christ,
who appears in the centre, surrounded by the Heavenly Host.

No one but Murillo could ever have thus embodied his conception of a
supernatural vision. On sitting down before this canvass, from which, as
it extends across the whole chapel, no other object can draw off the
attention, you speedily yield to the irresistible power of abstraction,
and are lost in an ecstacy, nearly resembling that which the artist has
sought to represent in the countenance and attitude of his Saint. The
eye wanders in a sort of trance through the glorious assemblage of
Heaven. The whole scene looks real: but it is only on taking time to
study the details that you discover the prodigies of talent displayed in
the drawing and finishing of this picture. An angel, suspended in front
of the lower portion of the group, more especially attracts the
attention. One leg is extended towards the spectator, the foreshortening
of which is a marvel of execution.

Over the San Antonio, as it does not reach to the ceiling, there is a
smaller picture, representing the Baptism of Christ, also by Murillo. In
a chapel at the south-west angle of the church, there are several fine
paintings by Luis de Vargas, one of the founders of the school of
Seville.

In the choir, the collection of books for the chanting services is worth
seeing. Of these immense folios, enclosed in massive covers, bound with
a profusion of wrought metal mostly silver--may be counted upwards of a
hundred. They are filled with paintings, infinite in minuteness and
beauty. For the performances of the daily services and all duties,
ordinary and extraordinary, within this edifice, more than eight hundred
persons are employed. Five hundred masses are recited each day at the
different altars: all of which taking place during the early part of the
day, an idea may be formed of the business which goes on. Of the six or
seven organs, I have heard three playing at the same time in different
parts of the church; but so widely separated, as by no means to
interfere with each other's harmony. One of them was one of the two
great organs which face each other over the choir. These two play a duet
once a year, on the day of the Corpus. The effect they produce is not so
powerful as that produced at Toledo, but far more beautiful. At Toledo
the two which correspond to these, are assisted on that occasion by a
third, as powerful as both the others united, placed over the portal of
the south transept, at an elevation of about seventy feet from the
ground.

Among the ceremonies of the cathedral of Seville is one sufficiently
unique to be deserving of notice. _El baile de los seis_ (dance of the
six), is performed by eight youths--probably by six originally--every
evening during the feast of the Conception. It takes place in front of
the high-altar, on which her statue is placed on that occasion. The
service is one of especial solemnity; and, as such, accompanied,
unfortunately as on all such occasions, by an orchestra of violins, to
the exclusion of the organs. The singing commences at four o'clock in
the afternoon, in the choir, and continues until half-past six, when all
move in procession through the great railing, across the transept, and
ascend the flight of steps which lead to the Capilla Mayor. Here they
take their seats according to rank, on benches placed in rows from east
to west, fronting a space which is left open down the centre, in front
of the altar. The orchestra occupies a corner near the railing; and on
the two front benches are seated--four facing four--the eight youths,
dressed in the ancient Spanish costume, all sky blue silk and white
muslin, and holding each his hat, also light blue, with a flowing white
feather.

The chorus now recommences, but speedily drops; when the orchestra
sounds a beautiful air in the waltz measure. This is played once by the
instruments alone, and joined the second time by the voices of the eight
boys, or youths of the age of sixteen to eighteen; who, after having
accompanied a short time, start to their legs, and continue in the same
strain. At the next reprise they all, as if by word of command, place
their hats on their heads, and one or two minutes after, the chant still
continuing, advance, and meet in the centre, then return each to his
place; advance a second time, and turn round each other, using the waltz
step.

After singing and dancing for about a quarter of an hour, the voices are
exchanged for the sounds of castagnettes, which they have held all this
time in their hands, and the measure becomes more animated; and thus
they terminate the performance. The same ceremony is repeated each night
of the seven; only varying the air of the waltz, of which they have two.

This ceremony, now belonging exclusively to the cathedral of Seville,
was originally performed in some other cathedrals; but has been
gradually laid aside in all the others, having been found to occasion
irreverent behaviour among a portion of the spectators. It was
originally introduced among the observances in honour of the anniversary
of the Conception, as a natural manifestation of joy; and such a genuine
Spanish bolero would have been: but the slow time of the music, and the
measured movements, adopted for the purpose of suiting the performance
to the solemnity of the place, have changed the nature of the dance, and
deprived it of everything approaching to cheerfulness.




LETTER XX.

SPANISH BEGGARS. HAIRDRESSING. THE GIRALDA. CASA DE PILATOS.
MONASTERIES. ITALICA.


Seville.

Mendicity is one of the Curiosities--and not the least picturesque
one--of this antique country. There should be a Mendicity Society for
its preservation, together with other legacies of the middle ages. An
entertaining book might be filled with its annals and anecdotes.

Nowhere, I should think, can beggary be a more lucrative calling. The
convents having been the inexhaustible providence of these tribes, on
their suppression the well-born and bred Spaniards consider the charge
to have devolved upon them, in the absence of all possible legislation
on the subject: and few, especially of the fair sex, turn a deaf ear to
the mute eloquence of the open hand. Even a stranger, if possessed of an
ear, resists with difficulty the graceful appeal of the well trained
proficient: _Noble caballero, un ochavito por Dios._--A blind girl made
no request; but exclaimed--"Oh that the Virgin of Carmen may preserve
your sight!"

The mendicants are classified, and assume every form of external
humanity. Being in the coach-office near the Plaza del Duque, a tall
well-dressed man, dangling a dark kid glove, entered, and, walking up to
the book-keeper, after having carefully closed the door, made some
communication to him in a low voice. The other replied in a similar
tone, and they parted with mutual bows. I was puzzled on the man's
turning to me and observing that the beggars were very annoying in
Seville; but still certain my conjecture could not but be erroneous, I
said "you don't mean to say that your acquaintance"--"Oh, no
acquaintance; I never saw him before: he only came to beg."

This species of _cavallero_ pauper should by no means be encouraged; he
is not of the picturesque sort. Nowhere do the wretches look their
character better than at Seville; as all admirers of Murillo can
testify, without consulting any other nature than his canvass. But these
consider they confer a sort of obligation on the individual they
condescend to apply to. Nothing can exceed their astonishment and
indignation when refused. Their great highway is the superb polished
mosaic marble of the Cathedral; where they divide the authority with the
embroidered dignitaries of the choir. It is useless to hope for an
instant's leisure for the contemplation of this unique temple, until you
have disposed of its entire population of ragged despots.

A sort of chivalrous etiquette is observed, in virtue of which a female
chorus is the first to form your escort from pillar to pillar. These
dismissed, you are delivered over to the barefooted Murillos. There are
two modes of escape. The rich man should go in with his two hands filled
with coin, and distribute to all, even to many who will return for a
second contribution before he has done. But if economical, you may
attain the same end, and more permanently, by sacrificing four or five
days to walking up and down the nave, without looking at anything, but
simply undergoing the persecution of the mob. After the fourth visit you
will be left in peace.

These counsels I am competent to give you from dreadful experience; more
dreadful from my having pursued a middle course. To one barefooted and
rotten-scalped embryo brigand I only gave a two-_quarto_ piece
(halfpenny) about equal in real consequence to twopence in England. If
you have ever seen, in the era of mail coaches, the look of quiet
surprise on the countenance of the well-fed charioteer, who, having,
after the sixth or seventh stage, opened the door, and muttered from
behind his _cache-nez_ the usual "coachman, gen'lemen" received a
long-searched-for deprecatory sixpence from some careful knight with a
false shirt-collar--you have noticed the self-same look, which was
leisurely transferred by the urchin from the piece of copper in the open
palm to my face, and back to the piece of copper.

Instead, however, of restoring it to me, his indignation seemed to
inspire him with a sudden resolution. He rushed to a kneeling Señorita a
few paces distant, and interrupting her devotions by a pull at the side
of her mantilla, he showed the coin in the open hand, while with the
other he pointed to the culprit. If he meditated revenge, he should have
made another choice, instead of deranging a garment, from the folds of
which a real Andalucian mouth and pair of eyes, turning full on me,
aimed a smile which, I need not inform you, was not dear at two
_quartos_.

Could such a smile have been natural, and the expression of mere
curiosity, or was it intended for a death-wound, dealt for another's
vengeance? and did the velvet language of those eyes signify a horrible
"Pallas te hoc vulnere," in favour of the ragamuffin I had offended? At
all events, the incident lost him a more munificent remuneration, by
driving me from the spot, and expelling from my head, a project
previously formed, of inviting him to my _fonda_ to be sketched.

With regard to the oft and still recurring subject of Spanish beauty,
you are hereby warned against giving ear to what may be said by
tourists, who, by way of taking a new view of an old subject, simply
give the lie to their predecessors. It is true, that in the central
provinces, the genuine characteristic Moro-Iberian beauty is rare, and
that there is little of any other sort to replace it; but this is not
the case with Andalucia, where you may arrive fresh from the perusal of
the warm effusions of the most smitten of poets, and find the Houris of
real flesh and blood, by no means overrated.

One of their peculiar perfections extends to all parts of the Peninsula.
This is the hair; everywhere your eye lights upon some passing specimen
of these unrivalled masses of braided jet; at which not unfrequently
natives of the same sex turn with an exclamation--Que pelo tan hermoso!

I surprised the other day a village matron, whose toilette, it being a
holiday afternoon, was in progress in no more secluded a _tocador_ than
the middle of the road. The rustic lady's-maid (whether the practice be
more or less fashionable I know not) had placed on a stool, within reach
of her right hand as she stood behind her seated mistress, a jug of
fresh water. This did she lift, just as I approached, up to her mouth,
into which she received as large a portion of its contents as could be
there accommodated; while with her left hand she grasped the extremity
of a mass of silken hair, black as the raven's wing, and an ell in
length. Both hands now, stroking down the mass, spread it out so as to
present a horizontal surface of as large an extent as possible, when,
suddenly, from the inflated cheeks of the abigail, re-issued with a loud
sound the now tepid liquid, and bathed the entire surface, which it
seemed to render, if possible, still more glossy than before. The rest
of the duty of the hands appeared to consist in repeatedly separating
and replacing the handfuls, until the same proceeding was reacted.

The entrance to the Giralda is outside the cathedral. Before we make the
ascent, we will walk to the extremity of the Moorish enclosure of the
orange-court, along the raised pavement which surrounds the whole. At
the angle there is an antique shaft of granite, higher than the rest of
those placed at equal distances along the edge of the pavement. From
that point the proportions of the tower are seen to advantage, while you
are at the same time sufficiently near to observe the details of the
carving, and of the windows, with their delicately formed columns of
rare marbles; and to lose in a great measure the effect of the
subsequent additions, which surmount and disfigure the work of Geber.

The Arabian part of the building is a square of about forty-five feet,
and measures in elevation four times its width. The ornaments are not
exactly alike on all the four sides. On the north side (our present
view) the tracery commences at a height of eighty feet, up to which
point the wall of brick is perfectly plain and smooth, with only the
interruption of two windows, placed one above the other in the centre.
The ornament, from its commencement to the summit, is divided into two
lofty stories, surmounted by a third, of half the height of one of the
others. The two first are divided vertically into three parts by narrow
stripes of the plain wall. The centre portions contain two windows in
each story, one over the other, making, with the two in the lower
portion, six altogether, which are at equal distances from each other.
The form of these windows is varied, and in all uncommonly elegant; some
are double, with a marble column supporting their two arches, and all
are ornamented round the arches with beautiful tracery, and furnished
with marble balconies. At one of the balconies, the Muezzin, in
Mahometan times was accustomed to present himself at each of the hours
appointed for prayer, and to pronounce the sentences ordained by that
religion for calling the people. The half-story at the summit is
ornamented with a row of arches, supported by pilasters.

On the top of the tower were seen originally, four gilded balls of
different sizes, one over the other, diminishing upwards; the iron bar
on which they were fixed, was struck by lightning, and gave way, leaving
the balls to roll over; since which period they were never restored to
their place.

The additional buildings were not erected until the seventeenth century.
They are not in themselves inelegant, with the exception of the portion
immediately rising from the old tower, and containing the bells. This
portion is of the same width as the tower, and appears to weigh it down
with its heavy effect; on the summit of the whole, at about three
hundred feet from the ground, is a colossal statue of bronze,
representing Faith, holding in one hand a shield, and in the other an
olive-branch. By means of the shield, the statue obeys the movements of
the wind, and thus gives the name of Giralda (weather-cock) to the
tower.

An interior tower, rather more than twenty feet square, runs up the
whole height of the Moorish portion of the building; between which and
the external walls an easy ascent is contrived on an inclined plane. The
necessity of introducing light throughout the ascent accounts for the
different elevation of the windows and ornaments of the different sides;
but the architect has so managed this difficulty, that no bad effect is
produced in the external view. At the lower part of the tower the ascent
is sufficiently wide to admit of the passage of two men on horseback
abreast; but it becomes narrower as it approaches the summit. Queen
Christina is said to have been drawn up in a small carriage. The walls,
both of the inner and outer tower, increase in thickness as they rise,
and as the ascending plane decreases in width: a plan which appears
opposed to the principle usually adopted by modern architects.

It is known that Geber was the architect of the Giralda, but no
certainty exists respecting its date. The Spanish antiquarian Don
Rodrigo Caro supposes it to have been erected during the reign of
Benabet Almucamus, King of Seville, shortly before the appearance in
Spain of the Almoravides; but this is no more than a conjecture, founded
on the supposed wealth of that King, who possessed larger states than
his successors, and who paid no tribute to the sovereigns of Castile.

Immediately over the highest story of the Moorish tower is the belfry.
The bells are suspended on the centre of revolving beams, which traverse
the open arches of the four faces of the tower. They are consequently in
full view, as they throw their somersets and send forth their lively
clatter on a _dia de fiesta_.

Their effect is very original, and as unlike as possible to the
monotonous and melancholy cadence of an English peal. None of them are
deep-toned nor solemn, but all high and sharp: so that being let loose
in merry disorder, and without tune, they somehow appear to harmonize
with the brilliant skies, just as the descending ding-dong in England
suits the gloom of the northern heavens. Leave Seville, and never shall
their tones steal on your memory without your being transported into a
blaze of bright sunshine.

In Spain the houses of the grandees are not called palaces, as those of
the same rank in Italy are usually termed. There is not even an
intermediate term, such as mansion,--still less the hall--abbey, or
castle. They have the last, but only applied in cases in which it is
correctly and legitimately applicable. The Arab expression _alcazar_,
composed of the article _al_ and _cazar_, is so like the Spanish _la
casa_ (the house), that, not having at hand a professor of Arabic to
consult, I will risk the assertion that it bore the same meaning;
notwithstanding the opinion of several French writers who translate it
_château_. Chenier, author of the history of Morocco, derives it from
the word Caissar, which he considers synonymous with Cæsar: but this
derivation appears to admit of much doubt, as the word would signify the
Emperor, instead of his residence. Supposing it to signify the house, it
must no doubt have meant the principal, or royal house. At present the
two words are admitted into the Spanish language as one, which is
applied indiscriminately to royal town-residences, whether castles or
not, as well as the term _palacio_. But a private residence of whatever
extent is modestly termed a house.

In this instance, as in many others, the proud contempt of high-sounding
phraseology is common to Spain and England, where some of the most
palace-like habitations are called Wentworth House, Hatfield House,
Burleigh House: the very porters' lodges being sometimes such edifices
as would claim the title of _château_ in some other countries. But this
same haughty modesty is rather individual than collective, and does not
prevail as applied to towns and cities. In public acts and addresses,
and even in the most homely precautionary warnings placarded at the
corners of streets or promenades, the form used is,--"The constitutional
Alcalde of this heroic and very invincible town of Madrid, or Seville,
forbids, or orders, &c.;" and still more splendid epithets are found for
the nation in general.

I don't know whether it has occurred to you that this progressive
dereliction of consistency is universal in human nature, although it
assumes a variety of forms. In the present instance modesty commences at
home, as they say charity should.

By the way, if charity should commence at home, together with the other
affections of the heart, such as patriotism, then did the first Brutus
make a mistake. If, on the contrary, his merit was great in sacrificing
his son to his nation, it follows, that, in causing his entire nation to
be butchered the first time they were guilty of any encroachment on the
rights of the rest of the world, his glory would have increased in the
ratio of one to some millions.

He either acted on a principle of justice, or preferred the applause of
his compatriots to the affection of his son. If, therefore, an
opportunity was ever afforded him of doing the world the above-mentioned
act of justice at the expense of his countrymen, and he abstained from
it,--it being impossible to suppose a Roman republican capable of a
dereliction of principle--it is clear that he preferred the applause of
his nation to that of the rest of the world; and all becomes a question
of taste. But what, you exclaim, has the first or any other Brutus to do
with Pilate's house, the description of which is preceded by this long
introduction? And was not his murder of his son benevolence itself,
compared to the infliction of these digressions on your patience?

The Casa de Palatos is a palace belonging to the Duke of Medina Coeli.
One of his ancestors is said to have built it in exact imitation of
Pontius Pilate's palace in Jerusalem, and to have obtained possession of
a large quantity of the ornaments and portable furniture belonging to
the ancient building, which, on the completion of his edifice at
Seville, he established, each object in the place corresponding to that
which it originally occupied.

A lofty wall, filling the side of the small square, called the Plaza de
Pilatos, and surmounted by a balustrade, forms the outer enclosure of
the palace. You enter through a large plain arched doorway, and pass
through a court, containing the porter's house, and other out-buildings
devoid of ornament. A small door on the left leads from this enclosure
to the principal court. Here you might imagine yourself still in the
Alcazar. The ornament is in the same style; only the arcades are
inferior in lightness and beauty. It contains, however, a fountain very
superior to that of the principal court of the Alcazar.

At the four angles are colossal statues of white marble, representing
deities of the Grecian mythology. They are antique, and of Roman origin.
Under the arcades a series of busts of the Roman emperors, are placed
round the walls; the greater part of them are also antique. On one side
of this court is the chapel, very small, and entirely covered with
Arabesque ornament. At one side is placed erect against the wall a black
cross, said to be a facsimile imitation of that actually carried by our
Saviour, which occupied a similar situation in the palace at Jerusalem.
Its length is about seven feet, and the thickness of the wood about four
inches by two. Opposite to the cross is a Madonna by Raffaelle. As no
light enters the chapel, excepting through a small door, and that placed
under the arcades, and the picture is hung at a considerable height, it
can only be examined by the aid of a ladder, which is kept near it, and
then only very imperfectly. At the time the chapel was habitually used,
it probably contained candles always burning.

The great staircase is very ornamental and leads to several handsome
suites of rooms. There is a colonnade on one side of the garden, under
which lies a valuable collection of antique busts, columns, capitals,
and fragments of all sorts, "in most admired disorder." The proprietor
never visits this residence, and every part of it is in a very neglected
state.

Seville lays claim to no less a founder than Hercules. A magnificent
temple dedicated to him is said to have existed on the spot at present
occupied by the parish church of San Nicholas. Near it a statue of the
demigod has been discovered, together with six columns, four of which
are sunk so deeply in the earth that they cannot be brought to light.
The other two are placed on lofty pedestals, and adorn the largest of
the promenades of Seville, that called the Alameda. One of them is
surmounted by the statue mentioned above, and the other by one of Julius
Cæsar. Venus is also stated to have shared with Hercules the devotions
of the Sevillanos. The existence of her worship in ancient times is
placed beyond a doubt by the well authenticated martyrdom of Saints
Justa and Rufina, condemned for refusing to do honour to the rites of
that goddess, and to figure in her processions.

These two martyrs to the Christian faith have pursued, on various
subsequent occasions, a conduct calculated to afford a degree of
advantage to an adversary, should he presume to accuse them of renegade
propensities. They have manifested themselves determined protectors of
the Arab tower, on every occasion of its being threatened with danger.
Numerous instances are on record; the most remarkable of which, is one
that has given rise to much controversy, and employed in more recent
times the researches of learned men. The tradition states, that, during
an earthquake, which took place in the year 1504, and of which a vivid
description may be found at the end of a book, called the Regla Vieja,
which exists in the archives of the cathedral--the two virgins were seen
to support the tower and prevent it from falling, surrounding it with
their arms, one on each side. It is also related that, on the occasion
of a previous earthquake, that of the year 1396, voices were heard in
the air, articulated by demons, crying, "Throw it down, throw it down;"
and that others replied, "No, we cannot, for those villanous saints,
Justa and Rufina, are guarding it." For these reasons it is usual, in
paintings representing the Giralda, to place the figures of the two
virgin Saints supporting it, one on either side; and a small model thus
supported by images of the two martyrs, executed in wood, is carried in
the principal religious processions. In all these representations, the
figures stand rather taller than the tower.

The hospital of La Caridad is one of the principal attractions to
strangers at Seville; for in its chapel is contained the picture, which
passes for the master-piece of Murillo. The chapel is narrow and lofty,
and the picture placed as near as possible to the ceiling. A sight of it
can only be obtained at an angle of about twenty degrees. But the aching
of the neck is unheeded during the examination of this superb picture.
It is called Las Aguas, the Waters. Moses has just struck the rock, and
stands in a simple and dignified attitude. In the complete contentment
of his countenance there may be traced a mingled expression of pity and
gratitude, as he looks on the scene which follows his action. The artist
has given proof of consummate talent in the choice and treatment of his
subject; which afforded him a variety of grouping, of expression, and of
attitude, of which few were capable of taking better advantage.

This picture is a specimen of his natural style, and its success is
considered, and I think justly, superior to that of any other of his
works. The imitation of material nature is here carried to as great
perfection as in many of his paintings; while at the same time nothing
can surpass the poetry of the composition, nor the exquisitely
harmonious grouping of the men and animals. In this last quality,
Murillo is certainly unequalled. He seems also in this instance, to have
reached the utmost limits of art in the expression of the countenances,
throughout the different groups, whether employed in offering silent
thanksgivings, or entirely absorbed in the eager effort to obtain for
their parched lips a draught of the bright liquid. In the feeling
displayed in these instances, and so well represented, there is, it is
true, nothing elevated, but still it is feeling; and its materiality is
amply made amends for, by the chief personage of the scene, in whose
countenance nothing but the sublime can be traced.

Had Murillo not painted this picture and the Saint Elizabeth of Hungary,
Spanish art must have contented itself with the second rank, and Raphael
would have continued without a rival. These pictures occasion regret
that such genius should have employed itself during a long period, on
works of a different sort. The San Antonio and a few others, were no
doubt productions worthy of the painter of the Aguas, and a hundred or
two others are magnificent paintings; but the time employed on some of
these, and on a still greater number of less prominent merit, would have
been more profitably devoted to the production of two or three which
might have ranked with these giant creations of his talent.

In viewing either of these compositions, the other speedily becomes
present to the imagination, and forces you to draw a comparison between
them. They have a sort of affinity in their subject as well as in their
style. The sufferers of the St. Elizabeth, occupied with their torments
and their gratitude, answer to those of the Aguas, engrossed also with
almost parallel feelings. The Moses, tranquil and erect in the midst of
the action which surrounds him, is the exact pendant of the majestic
figure and compassionate countenance of the youthful princess,
exercising her saintly charities. These pictures ought to be companions
in the same gallery, were it possible for two such works to find their
way into one and the same apartment. But that would be a consummation as
hopeless as finding St. Peter's and the Duomo of Milan in the same town;
Naples and Seville in one province, a London and a Paris in one country,
an Ariosto and a Byron in the same language. It has more than once
occurred to me, since I have seen these two pictures, that were
Raphael's Spasimo and Transfiguration placed on one side of a room, and
these two on the other, and the choice offered me which pair I would
possess, I should never be able to come to a decision.

Another large picture by Murillo, the multiplying of the Loaves in the
Desert, is suspended opposite the Aguas, and at the same elevation. On
attempting to examine it, you are forcibly reminded by certain acute
sensations in the region of the neck, of the unnatural position it has
so long maintained, and you leave this picture, together with two
others, placed near the entrance of the chapel, for a subsequent visit.

In the church of the Faubourg Triana, on the right hand after passing
the bridge, are some excellent pictures, particularly a Conception by
Murillo. The multitude of paintings left by this artist is incredible,
when to all those scattered through Spain, France, and England, are
added those preserved in this his native town. Almost all the good
houses in Seville contain collections of pictures; and all the
collections have their Murillos. There are no fewer than sixteen in the
gallery of the Canon, Don Manuel Cepero; but this is the largest of the
private collections, and the best, as it ought to be, since it is
contained in Murillo's house. It is the residence occupied by him during
the latter part of his life, and in which he died. Its dimensions and
distribution are handsome. At the back of it there is a garden of
limited extent, but in which not an inch of space is thrown away. Where
there remains no room for choice flowers and orange trees, the walls are
painted to prolong the illusion. The Canon possesses also several good
paintings by Italian masters. I counted likewise four Rembrandts, and
two of Rubens. Among the other private collections, that of the Alcalde
Don Pedro Garcia is one of the richest; it contains a Santa Barbara of
Cano, an exquisite picture. A Saint Joseph by Murillo, in the collection
of the French Consul (a native of Seville) is admirable.

In most of the churches there is sufficient of this sort of attraction
to make them worth a visit. In the convents nothing is left; in fact
they no longer exist as convents. There may be one or two remaining in
Seville, but I did not hear of them. The monastery of Jeronimites, and
the Chartreuse--both situated in the environs--were the most
considerable religious establishments of Seville. They are converted,
one into a school, and the other into a porcelain manufactory. This
last, the Chartreuse, contains in its church and refectory, plentiful
traces of its former magnificence. An Englishman has purchased the
monastery with three or four acres of ground, containing the immediate
dependencies; and he is occupied with the labours which necessarily
precede its appearance in its new character, replacing the butteries,
kitchens, storehouses, and cells, by rows of pudding-shaped
baking-houses.

He has, however, spared the chapel, which is to continue in its former
state. All the stalls, the altar, and other immoveable furniture, remain
as he found them. The pictures and statues had of course been
previously removed. The woodwork is inimitable--the best I have seen in
Spain; it would be impossible in painting to represent with more
delicacy, the very texture of the drapery, the very veins of the hands,
and hair of the beards--of figures of a quarter the natural dimensions.
You are filled with astonishment, that the infinite patience necessary
for this mechanical labour should have accompanied the genius which
conceived and executed the incomparable figures and heads. The
refectory, of which the ceiling is the principal ornament, is to be the
great show-room for the display of the china. The fortunate manufacturer
inhabits, with his family, the prior's residence--one of the most
elegant habitations in the world: surrounding a court, which contains of
course its white marble fountain and colonnades: and he is in treaty for
the purchase of the orange-grove, the park of the monastery. This
pleasure-ground is ornamented here and there with Kiosks, from which are
obtained views of Seville, and the intervening Guadalquivir.

On the confiscation of this monastery, several magnificent pictures
disappeared, a few of which have since been placed in the cathedral. Two
alabaster monuments, belonging to the family of Medina Cæli, were also
removed; they are placed in a church at present under repair. They are
erect, and fit into the wall; measuring about forty feet in height.
Their upper portion is adorned with several well-executed small statues.

The other convent--that dedicated to S. Geronimo, is situated on the
opposite side of the river, about a mile higher up. It is not so
beautiful as the Cartuja, but on a grander scale. The principal court is
magnificent; it is surrounded with upper and lower arcades, respectively
of the Ionic and Doric orders: the apartments and church are of
corresponding extent; but have either been deprived of their ornaments,
or were originally but sparingly decorated. A ci-devant governor of
Seville--a general officer, very distinguished as a linguist, has turned
schoolmaster, and taken up his abode here. The day of my visit happened
to be the general's birthday, and a scene of much festivity presented
itself. The schoolmaster's successor in his former post at Seville, had
arrived, attended by the band of a cavalry regiment; and the great court
having been converted into a ball-room, the marble arcades were made to
ring with the thrilling cadences of the hautbois and clarionette--by way
of a fitting afterpiece to the tragic chants of former days.

The relatives and friends of the students were present, so that the
youthful dancers were well-provided with partners. The performances were
French quadrilles, English hornpipes, German waltzes, Russian mazurkas,
and Spanish fandangos. I had arrived too late for the first part of the
entertainment, which consisted of a bull-fight, for which a temporary
arena had been enclosed. The bulls were what are called _novillos_--that
is, scarcely more than calves; as the full-grown animals would have been
more than a match for their juvenile antagonists.

The ruins of the Roman city of Italica, to which I have already alluded,
are situated four miles from Seville in ascending the river--and on the
opposite bank. The whole town is underground, with the exception of a
few houses in the part in which excavations have been made, and of the
amphitheatre which occupies an eminence. No notice was taken in modern
times of the existence of this buried town, until towards the end of the
last century, when the remains of the amphitheatre, the only portion of
the ruins which were visible, drew the attention of travellers: and the
authorities of Seville received orders to commence excavating. The
search yielded a large quantity of valuable remains; a temple was
discovered, in the neighbourhood of which were found several statues and
capitals of columns. A choice was made of the objects in the best state
of preservation, which were forwarded to Madrid in order to form a
museum. Large quantities of coins were also sent, and collections of
household utensils, and ornaments. The Arabs, who did not consider these
Roman relics worthy objects of antiquarian research, nevertheless had
either discovered and laid open a large portion of the town, or were
themselves its destroyers. From it they extracted the large quantities
of marble columns and slabs with which Seville is filled. The mutilated
statues, together with several funereal monuments, found in later times,
and not considered deserving of the journey to Madrid, have been
deposited in a large room in the Alcazar of Seville, where they are now
exhibited.

No record exists of the foundation of Italica. Its annals are traced to
the time of Scipio Africanus, who, on the completion of his conquest of
Spain, and the final expulsion of the Carthaginians, finding himself
embarrassed by the number of wounded and sick among his troops,
established them in this town under the protection of a garrison. He
gave to the town its name of Italica,[12] its previous name being
Sancius: the real situation of Italica has been the subject of much
controversy. Like the Grecian cities, which claimed each to be the
birthplace of Homer, several of the towns in the neighbourhood of
Seville are candidates for the honour of being representatives of the
ancient Italica; but ample proof exists of the identity of these ruins
with that city.[13] The Historia general, written by Alonso el Sabio,
book 1., chap, XV., speaks of Italica as a place of much importance in
ancient times, in allusion to the invasion of a people called the
Almunizes. He adds, in the antiquated Spanish of his time, "Las nuevas
fueron por todas las tierras de como aquellas gentes avian ganado a
España, e todos los de las islas quel oyeron crecieron les corazones por
fazer otro tal, e ayuntaron muy grandes navios, e vinieronse para
España, e entraron por cuatro partes. Los que entraron por Cadiz
vinieron Guadalquibir arriba, e llegaron a Italica e los de la villa
salieron e lidiaron con ellos, e los de fuera entraron con ellos de
vuelta por medio de la villa, e mataron los a todos, e ganaron la
villa." It is not clear what invasion is here alluded to.

The town of Italica was one of the six or seven in these provinces which
possessed the title of _municipia_; a superior one to that of _colonia_,
from its involving the privilege of retaining its ancient laws and
customs, while on the colonies those of Rome were imposed. It was among
the cities which sheltered some of the earliest converts to
Christianity. Its first bishop was the martyr Saint Geruncio, put to
death in prison. The prison, being considered sanctified, from its
containing the saint's remains, became subsequently the resort of pious
votaries from all parts of the province. In the Mozarabic ritual there
is a hymn for the day of this saint, one of the stanzas of which fixes
the epoque of his life and martyrdom, at that of the apostles.[14]

The centurion Cornelius, mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles, as
converted by the preaching of St. Peter, was, it is said, a native of
this city, and commanded a cohort raised in his native place.

The date of the destruction of Italica, is as uncertain as that of its
origin. The fact of its existence during almost the entire period of the
Gothic dominion, is established, by the presence of its bishops being
recorded at the different councils. It is conjectured that its
destruction was the work of the Arabs, who were no sooner in possession
of Seville, than they considered it imprudent to allow so large a town
to be in the hands of enemies in their immediate neighbourhood. This
supposition of Spanish antiquaries seems hazarded without sufficient
reflection; since, in the first place, had the occupants of Italica
occasioned the Arabs any uneasiness, nothing was easier than to occupy
the place themselves; and secondly, the ruins bear strong symptoms of
having been reduced to their present state by some convulsion of nature,
rather than by human agency: not to mention the coins discovered in
large quantities, which would not have been neglected by human
destroyers. It is not likely that the destruction of so considerable a
place by the conquerors of the province, at the time they were too few
to defend it, would have been overlooked by their historians--who make
no allusion to the event.

The present appearance is that of a green undulating hill, which no one
would imagine to be composed of the remains of streets, palaces,
temples, and market-places. The upper portion only of the amphitheatre
remains above-ground. Its form is slightly oval, nearly approaching to a
circle. The greatest diameter is three hundred and twenty-five feet. It
has twenty rows of seats, half of which are buried; each seat is two
feet and a half in depth, and two in height. Part of the Podium remains;
and enough of the entrance, to distinguish that it consisted of three
large arches. It was constructed with Roman solidity. Nothing less than
an earthquake could have toppled over the masses of masonry, which
appear in their confusion like solid rocks. A very small portion of the
ruins has been explored: and part of that, for want of being
sufficiently cleared out, is again buried in earth, and the work is
discontinued. The objects now above-ground, consist of five or six
tessalated floors, two of which have been considered of sufficient value
to be walled in, and locked up, but without being roofed.

These ruins are well worth a visit, although the road to them from
Seville, bears terrible symptoms of having been constructed before
Macadam's day; perhaps even before that of the Scipios.

At the distance of a few hundred yards from the nearest portion of the
ruined town is situated the village of Santi-ponce, in which is the
convent of S. Isidoro, of the order of St. Jerome. The church contains
the tombs of Don Alonzo Perez de Guzman, surnamed the Good, and of his
wife Doña Maria Alonzo Coronel, founders of the ducal house of Medina
Sidonia. This family obtained from Ferdinand the Fourth, a grant of
Santi-ponce and old Seville (Italica), with the district, and temporal
and spiritual jurisdiction. Don Sancho had already rewarded the services
and tried fidelity of Perez de Guzman by presenting him with the town of
Medina Sidonia. An anecdote is told of him worthy of a Roman republican.
Being governor of Tarifa under Sancho the Fourth, he had to defend the
town against the Infant, Don Juan, who had revolted against his brother.
This prince, learning that a child of Guzman was in his power, being at
nurse in the environs of the town, sent for it; and, presenting himself
before the walls, declared to the governor that he would kill the child,
if the town were not immediately surrendered. Guzman replied by drawing
his sword, and throwing it down to the prince, who had the barbarity to
order the infant to be murdered before his father's eyes.




LETTER XXI.

PRIVATE HOUSES, AND LOCAL CUSTOMS IN SEVILLE.


Seville.

The greater number of private houses are situated in an interminable
labyrinth of winding streets, between the Calle de la Sierpe, and Plaza
de San Francisco and the city wall, which connects the Aqueduct of
Carmona with the Alcazar. It is the South-eastern half of the city. To
the west of the Calle de la Sierpe there are also a few streets
containing private residences, but they are not in so large a
proportion. Some of the most elegant are, however, on this side; which
being less Moorish and more modern, is less chary of its attractions,
and allows a part of its decoration to enliven the external façades;
while its spacious doorways frequently open to the view of the passer-by
a gay perspective of gardens and courts.

The sunny balcony, crowded with a crimson forest of cactuses, is not
more attractive to the sight, than the more mysterious vista beneath
it, of retreating colonnades, mingled with orange and pomegranate trees,
through which the murmur of the fountain is scarcely audible. Few cities
present more charms to the wanderer than one in which the houses offer a
combination so luxurious as is met with in the greater number of those
of Seville. The cool summer rooms opening into the court, in which the
drawing-room furniture is arranged on all sides of a fountain,
plentifully supplied from the aqueduct of Carmona: and, on the upper
floor, the winter apartments, chosen from their being better lighted,
for the deposit of a collection of pictures and these almost always
excellent,--and opening to the gallery; to which, during this season,
the furniture having been removed from below, is placed, together with
the work frames and portable musical instruments, on the side exposed to
the sun. One sees these houses and their amiable and happy-looking
inhabitants, and imagines there is no life to be compared to it. Yet the
experiment may be made, and fail to answer the expectations of the
stranger, who, confident in his discovery of the road to happiness, may
have pitched his tent in the midst of these bewitching regions.

Can it be fatality--or is it essential in human nature, to find ever the
least felicity there, where it looks for the greatest? The experiment,
I say, was made. An Englishman, possessing every advantage of taste,
talent, and wealth, took up his residence here, resolved to devote the
remainder of his days to the peaceable enjoyments of a literary and
social life. Thanks to his literary propensities, we are enabled to
judge of the result of the trial. In a book published by the person to
whom I allude, we find that no one could be less satisfied with his lot.
Seville and the Sevillanos meet with no mercy at his hands, and must, if
we may judge by his dislike of them, have rendered his life a burden.

This, however, is a single example, and insufficient to deter others
from the attempt. It may be that this individual had not entered fully
into the spirit of Andalucian existence. Every detail of life being here
adapted to the place and its customs and climate, no custom can be erred
against with impunity--that is, without the forfeit of some
corresponding advantage.

Seville presents two so different aspects during the two opposite
seasons of the year, that to be well understood it should be visited at
both. During the winter, the existence does not materially differ from
that of the inhabitants of most other European towns; excepting that the
intercourse of society is subjected to less formality. Cards of
invitation are rarely made use of; and you are not, consequently,
exposed to the annoyance of seeing and hearing your house invaded by a
dense crowd, on a night you have appointed a month before, without any
possibility of foreseeing whether you would be disposed or not on that
particular night to undergo such a toil. These crowds are, I believe,
unheard of in Seville; but those who are pleased in each other's
society, know where to find each other; and without waiting for
invitations, small circles are formed every evening, from which all
crushing, fatigue, and intense dressing are excluded.

The winter is also a more advantageous season for the stranger, who
would be totally debarred by the summer heats from the activity
necessary for the satisfaction of his curiosity, in visiting the objects
of interest contained in and around Seville. On the other hand, the
summer season offers to his contemplation the successful attainment of a
mode of existence suited to the burning climate; a problem found to be
solved but in few instances. The first and most essential arrangement
appears to be the turning night into day, and _vice versâ_, as far as
regards society and all locomotion. No one leaves his house until long
after sunset, and visiting commences some hours later. The morning being
consequently the time for repose, and the breakfast hour nevertheless
remaining the same all the year round, the _siesta_ is very essential,
and is judiciously placed between the dinner, which terminates at four,
and the hour for movement--nine, when the Sevillano, refreshed by three
or four hours sleep, and a fresh toilette, is infinitely better disposed
for the evening's amusements than the denizen of more northern climes,
who rises at that or a later hour from the chief repast of the day, and
is put _en train_ by the less natural and less durable stimulants of the
table.

This mode of life presents other numerous advantages. A very prominent
one is the inviolable division of time between society and solitude. We
suppose the hour for rising eight,--immediately after the
chocolate,--that of breakfast eleven. The intervening hours are
solitary, and are frequently divided between the pillow and the
toilette; while they are sometimes devoted to more useful occupations,
and added to by earlier risers. From the family meeting at breakfast
until the dinner hour, three, the time may be employed in business,
reading, in fact, in every one's habitual pursuits. No intrusion is to
be feared. No accursed idler lounges in to interrupt with his
compliments, or gossip, your letter to your lawyer, or, if you are a
lawyer yourself, that to your client; nor is the conscience of
scrupulous porters burdened with the mendacious "not at home."

These hours are sacred, and guaranteed by the very air, which renders
the streets impassable, but leaves the cool court protected from the
sun's ray by the _toldo_, (canvas awning spread at a level with the
roof, and which is reefed up at night like a sail,) and refreshed by its
ever-murmuring fountain and cool marble pavement, to the peaceable
enjoyment of its owners. The female portion of the family are thus
enabled to devote themselves to household occupations, or to their
favourite employments, without having to undergo, until the second
getting up in the evening, the fever of a complete toilette, which
would, during the day, be insupportable. The time thus devoted to
society, is amply sufficient; as it may be prolonged, as each party
feels inclined, from an hour or two after sunset, until the returning
rays drive all back to their cool retreat.

The night of the festival of St. John is, in Seville, sacred, from
remote time, to amusement and festivity. During the five or six hours of
darkness accorded by the Midsummer sun, the banks of the Guadalquivir
echo the gay melodious laugh, which enlivens the animated buzz of the
crowd; and the morning ray gilds the upper windows of the deserted
houses before their doors are opened to the supper-craving population.
The rite practised on this occasion is marked by a simplicity
altogether antique. The youth of Seville, that is the masculine
portion, have provided themselves with small boxes, containing a sort of
sugar-plum of exquisite flavour. One of these is held between the finger
and thumb of the _cavallero_, from the moment he sets foot on the
promenade. On the approach of a party of ladies he endeavours to
distinguish, as far off as the gloom permits, the features or dress of
an already selected object of preference; or, if still free to make a
selection, some countenance possessed of sufficient attraction to
determine his choice. On discovering the owner of either of these
requisites, he watches a favourable opportunity, and approaching the
lady, offers the bonbon.

The _señorita_--of course unmarried--thus selected, is obliged to accept
the compliment if properly offered, as well as the arm of the
_cavallero_ during the rest of the night; and, on arriving at her house,
he receives from her parents, or chaperon, as the case may be, an
invitation to supper. Should the lady be desirous of avoiding the
compliment, of the approach of which she is usually aware, she must
exercise her ingenuity in putting obstacles in the way of the attempt.
In this effort many are successful, since the peculiar mode of
proceeding, obligatory on those who make the offer, affords certain
facilities. The condition is not binding on the fair object of the
compliment, unless the lips receive the bonbon immediately from the
finger and thumb of the cavalier. This is a source of no small amusement
to the _señoritas_ at the expense of strangers from other provinces of
Spain. Conscious of being the object of preference of some young
beginner, or stranger uninitiated in the mysteries of the rite--and who,
let it be understood, does not happen to be an object of preference with
them--they will afford him every facility of approach, and on receiving
the present in the hand, will repulse without mercy the luckless wight,
whose retiring steps are accompanied by peals of laughter from all the
party.

The month of June is likewise distinguished by the procession of the
Corpus Christi. On this occasion all the principal streets are protected
from the sun by canvas awnings; and from the windows of every house
draperies are suspended, the materials of which are more or less rich
according to the means of their respective proprietors. From an early
hour of the morning, ushered in by sunshine and the gay orchestra of the
Giralda bells, the vast marble pavement of the cathedral begins to
disappear beneath the momentarily increasing crowd. Here all classes are
mingled; but the most conspicuous are the arrivals from the surrounding
villages, distinguished by their more sunburnt complexions and the showy
colours of their costume, contrasted with the uniformly dark tints of
the attire of the Sevillanos.

Here are seen also in great numbers, accompanied by their relatives, the
gay _cigarreras_, whose acquaintance we shall presently make in the
_fabrica de tabaco_. The instinctive coquetry discernible, no less in
the studied reserve of their looks than in the smart step and faultless
nicety of costume, indicates how easy would be the transition to the
quality of the still more _piquant_ but somewhat less moral _maja_. The
black satin, low-quartered shoe is of a different material; but the
snow-white stocking, and dark green skirt the same--and the black-velvet
bordered mantilla is the identical one, which was held tight to the
chin, when passing, the evening before, under the city walls on the
return from the manufactory to the faubourg at the other extremity of
Seville.

The procession, headed by a band of music, and accompanied by the
dignitaries of the diocese, and civil authorities of the province,
bearing _cierges_, winds through the principal streets, and re-enters
the church to the sound of the two magnificent organs, never heard in
unison except on this anniversary. The exterior of the principal portal
is ornamented on this occasion with a sort of curtain, which is said to
contain upwards of three thousand yards of crimson velvet, bordered with
gold lace. The columns of the centre nave are also completely attired
from top to bottom with coverings of the same material. The value of the
velvet employed, is stated at nearly ten thousand pounds.

Christmas-day is also solemnized at Seville, with much zeal; but the
manner of doing it honour presents more of novelty than splendour. At
the early hour of seven the parish churches are completely filled. The
organ pours forth, from that time until the termination of the service,
an uninterrupted succession of airs, called _seguidillas_, from the
dance to which they are adapted. On the gallery, which adjoins the
organ-loft of each church, are established five or six muscular youths,
selected for their untiring activity. They are provided each with a
tambourine, and their duty consists in drawing from it as much, and as
varied sound as it will render without coming to pieces. With this view
they enter upon the amiable contest, and try, during three or four
hours, which of their number, employing hands, knees, feet, and elbows
in succession, can produce the most racking intonations. On the pavement
immediately below, there is generally a group, composed of the friends
of the performers, as may be discerned from the smiles of intelligence
directed upwards and downwards. Some of these appear, from the animated
signs of approbation and encouragement, with which they reward each more
than usually violent concussion, to be backers of favourite heroes.
During all this time one or two priests are engaged before the altar in
the performance of a series of noiseless ceremonies; and the pavement of
the body of the church is pressed by the knees of a dense crowd of
devotees.

The propensity to robbery and assassination, attributed by several
tourists to the population of this country, has been much exaggerated.
The imagination of the stranger is usually so worked upon by these
accounts, as to induce him never to set foot outside the walls of
whatever city he inhabits, without being well armed. As far as regards
the environs of Seville, this precaution is superfluous. They may be
traversed in all directions, at all events within walking distance, or
to the extent of a moderate ride, without risk. Far from exercising
violence, the peasants never fail, in passing, to greet the stranger
with a respectful salutation. But I cannot be guarantee for other towns
or environs which I have not visited. It is certain that equal security
does not exist nearer the coast, on the frequented roads which
communicate between San Lucar, Xeres, and Cadiz; nor in the opposite
direction, throughout the mountain passes of the Sierra Morena. But this
state of things is far from being universal.

I would much prefer passing a night on a country road in the
neighbourhood of Seville, to threading the maze of streets, which form
the south-eastern portion of the town, mentioned above as containing the
greater number of the residences of private families. This quarter is
not without its perils. In fact, if dark deeds are practised, no
situation could possibly be better suited to them. These Arab streets
wind, and twist, and turn back on themselves like a serpent in pain.
Every ten yards presents a hiding-place. There is just sufficient
lighting up at night to prevent your distinguishing whether the street
is clear or not: and the ground-floors of the houses, in the winter
season, are universally deserted.

An effectual warning was afforded me, almost immediately on my arrival
at Seville, against frequenting this portion of the town without
precaution after nightfall. An acquaintance, a young Sevillano, who had
been my daily companion during the first five or six days which followed
my arrival, was in the habit of frequenting with assiduity, some of the
above-mentioned streets. He inhabited one of them, and was continually
drawn by potent attraction towards two others. In one, in particular,
he followed a practice, the imprudence of which, in more than one
respect, as he was much my junior, I had already pointed out to him. A
lady, as you have already conjectured, resided in the house, in
question. My friend, like many of his compatriots, "sighed to many;" but
he loved this one; and she was precisely the one that "could ne'er be
his." She allowed him, however, a harmless rendezvous, separated from
all danger, as she thought, by the distance from the ground to the
balcony, situated on the first-floor. The lady being married, and
regular visiting being only possible at formal intervals, these
interviews had by degrees alarmingly, as appeared to me, increased in
frequency and duration; until at length during two hours each evening,
my acquaintance poured forth in a subdued tone, calculated to reach only
the fair form which bent over the balcony, his tender complaints.

The youth of these climes are communicative on subjects which so deeply
interest their feelings; and whether willing or not, one is often
admitted to share their secrets at the commencement of an acquaintance.
It was thus that I had had an opportunity of lecturing my friend on the
various dangers attending the practice in which he was persisting, and
of recommending him--the best advice of all being, of course,
useless--to revive the more prudent custom of by-gone times, and if he
must offer nightly incense to the object of his fire, to adopt the mode
sanctioned by Count Almaviva, and entrust his vows to the mercenary
eloquence of choristers and catgut--to anything--or anybody, provided it
be done by proxy. My warning was vain; but the mischief did not befall
him exactly in the manner I had contemplated.

His cousin opened my door while I was breakfasting, and informed me that
L---- was in the house of Don G---- A----, and in bed, having received a
wound the previous night from some robbers; and that he wished to see
me. I found him in a house, into which I had already been introduced,
being one of those he most frequented. A bed had been prepared in the
drawing-room, all the window-shutters of which were closed, and he was
lying there, surrounded by the family of his host, to whom was added his
sister. As he was unable to speak above a whisper, I was given the seat
by the bedside, while he related to me his adventure.

He had just quitted the street of the balcony at about nine o'clock, and
was approaching the house we were now in, when, on turning a corner, he
was attacked by three ruffians, one of whom demanded his money in the
usual terms, "Your purse, or your life!" while, before he had time to
reply, but was endeavouring to pass on, a second faced him, and stabbed
him in the breast through his cloak. He then ran forward, followed by
the three, down the street, into the house, and up the staircase; the
robbers not quitting the pursuit until he rang the bell on the
first-floor. The surgeon had been immediately called, and had pronounced
him wounded within--not an inch, but the tenth part of an inch--of his
life; for the steel had penetrated to within that distance of his heart.

My first impression was that the robbers were acting a part, and had
been hired to get rid of him,--otherwise what were the utility of
stabbing him, when they might have rifled his pockets without such
necessity? But this he assured me could not be the case, as the person
most likely to fall under such suspicion, was incapable of employing
similar means; adding, that that was the usual mode of committing
robberies in Seville. I left him, after having assured him how much I
envied his good fortune; seeing that he was in no danger, and only
condemned to pass a week or two in the society of charming women, all
zealously employed in nursing him--for such was the truth--one of the
young ladies being supposed, and I fear with justice, to be the object
of his addresses.

The ungrateful wretch convinced me by his reply (as we conversed in
French, and were not understood by those present) that his greatest
torment was impatience to escape from his confinement, in order to see
or write to the other fair one.

At the end of a week he was sufficiently recovered to be removed to the
house of his family. From certain hints, dropped during a conversation
which took place more than a month after the event, it is to be feared
that the knife of the assassin, in approaching so near to the heart of
his intended victim, succeeded, by some mysterious electric
transmission, in inflicting a positive wound on that of the lady of the
balcony.

I afterwards learned that it was usual for those who inhabited or
frequented this part of Seville, and indeed all other parts, excepting
the few principal thoroughfares and streets containing the shops and
cafés, to carry arms after nightfall; and in shaking hands with an
acquaintance, I have sometimes perceived a naked sword-blade half
visible among the folds of his cloak. These perils only exist in the
winter, and not in all winters; only in those during which provisions
increase in price beyond the average, and the season is more than
usually rigorous: the poor being thus exposed to more than the
accustomed privations.

There are towns in which assassination and robbery are marked by more
audacity than is their habitual character in this part of Andalucia. Of
these, Malaga is said to be one of the worst, although perhaps the most
favoured spot in Europe, with respect to natural advantages. An instance
of daring ruffianism occurred there this winter. A person of
consideration in the town had been found in the street stabbed and
robbed. His friends, being possessed of much influence, and disposing,
no doubt, of other weighty inducements to action, the police was aroused
to unusual activity; the murderer was arrested, and brought before the
Alcalde primero. A summary mode of jurisprudence was put in practice,
and the culprit was ordered for execution on the following day. On being
led from the presence of the court, he turned to the Alcalde, and
addressing him with vehemence, threatened him with certain death, in the
event of the sentence being put in execution. The Alcalde, although
doubtless not entirely free from anxiety, was, by the threat itself, the
more forcibly bound to carry into effect the judgment he had pronounced.
The execution, therefore, took place at the appointed hour. The
following morning, the dead body of the Alcalde was found in a street
adjoining that in which he resided.




LETTER XXII.

INQUISITION. COLLEGE OF SAN TELMO. CIGAR MANUFACTORY. BULL CIRCUS.
EXCHANGE. AYUNTAMIENTO.


Seville.

In the faubourg of Triana, separated from the town by the river, may be
distinguished remains of the ancient castle, which became the
headquarters of the Inquisition, on its first creation, in 1482. That
body was, however, shortly afterwards, compelled to evacuate the
building, by a great inundation of the Guadalquivir, which occurred in
the year 1626. It then moved into the town, and, from that period to the
close of its functions, occupied an edifice situated in the parish of
Saint Mark. Its jurisdiction did not extend beyond Andalucia. The entire
body was composed of the following official persons:--three inquisitors,
a judge of the fisc, a chief Alguazil, a receiver, (of fines,) five
secretaries, ten counsellors, eighty qualifiers, one advocate of the
fisc, one alcayde of the prison, one messenger, ten honest persons, two
surgeons, and one porter. For the City of Seville, one hundred
familiars: for the entire district, the commissaries, notaries, and
familiars, amounted to four thousand. The ten honest persons cut but a
sorry figure in so long a list. Do they not tempt you to parody Prince
Hal's exclamation "Monstrous! but one halfpenny-worth of bread to this
intolerable deal of sack?"

The Inquisition of Seville is of an earlier date than that of Toledo,
and was the first established in Spain. It was likewise the most
distinguished by the rigour of its sentences. The actual horrors of the
inquisitorial vaults were, I imagine, in general much exaggerated. A few
instances of severity, accompanied by a mystery, skilfully designed to
magnify its effect, was sufficient to set on fire the inflammable
imaginations of these sunny regions, and to spread universal terror. It
was on finding these means insufficient for the extirpation of religious
dissent, that, at length, executions were decreed by wholesale. Rather
than give credit to the voluminous list of the secret cruelties, which
were supposed by many to be exercised by the midnight tribunals, and
which could have no adequate object, since a conversion brought about by
such means could not, when known, profit the cause. I think it probable
that all acts of severity were made as public as possible, in order to
employ the terror they inspired as a means of swelling the ranks of
Catholicism.

My opinion is in some measure backed by what occurred at Toledo. On the
Inquisition of that city being dislodged from its palace,--now the seat
of the provincial administration,--it was expected that the exploration
of the subterraneous range of apartments, known to be extensive, would
bring to light a whole Apocalypse of horrors; and all who had interest
enough to obtain admission, pressed in crowds to be present at the
opening. The disappointment was immense on finding not a single piece of
iron, not the shadow of a skeleton, not a square inch of bloodstain.
Each individual, however, during the permanence of these tribunals,
lived in awe of their power; and the daily actions of thousands were
influenced by the fear of becoming the victims of their cruelties,
whether real or imaginary.

The terror which surrounded the persons of their agents invested them
with a moral power, which frequently rendered them careless of the
precaution of physical force in cases where it would have appeared to be
a necessary instrument in the execution of their designs. This
confidence was once well-nigh fatal to two zealous defenders of the
faith. The Archbishop of Toledo, subsequently Cardinal Ximenes de
Cisneros being on a visit at the residence of his brother of the see of
Granada, it occurred to them during an after-dinner conversation that,
could they accomplish the immediate conversion of the few thousands of
Moors remaining in Granada, it would be the means of rendering a signal
service to the Catholic Roman Apostolic religion.

Inflamed with a sudden ardour, and rendered doubly fearless of results
by the excellence of the archiepiscopal repast, they resolved that the
project should be put in execution that very evening.

Ever since the Conquest of Granada, a portion of the city had been
appropriated to the Moors who thought proper to remain; and who received
on that occasion the solemn assurance that no molestation would be
offered to their persons or property, nor impediment thrown in the way
of their worship. Their part of the town was called the Albaycin, and
was separated from the rest by a valley. It contained some twenty to
thirty thousand peaceably disposed inhabitants.

The two enterprising archbishops, their plan being matured (although
insufficiently, as will appear) repaired to a house bordering on the
Moorish quarter; and, calling together all the Familiars of the
Inquisition who could be met with on the spur of the occasion, divided
them into parties, each of a certain force, and dispatched them on
their errand, which was, to enter the houses of the infidels, and to
intimate to the principal families the behest of the prelates, requiring
them by break of day, to abjure the errors of their creed, and to
undergo the ceremony of baptism.

But in order that so meritorious a work should meet with the least
possible delay, all the children under a certain age were to be conveyed
instantaneously to the house occupied by the Archbishops, in order that
they might be baptised at once.

The agents opened the campaign, and had already made away with a certain
number of terrified infants, whose souls were destined to be saved thus
unceremoniously, when the alarm began to spread; and, at the moment when
the two dignitaries, impatient to commence operations, were inquiring
for the first batch of unfledged heretics, an unexpected confusion of
sounds was heard to proceed simultaneously from all sides of the house,
and to increase rapidly in clearness and energy: and some of the
attendants, entering, with alarm depicted on their countenances,
announced that a few hundred armed Moors had surrounded the house, and
were searching for an entrance.

It now, for the first time, occurred to the confederates, that
difficulties might possibly attend the execution of their project; and
their ardour having had nearly time to cool, Archbishop Ximenes, a
personage by no means wanting in prudence and energy, during his moments
of reason, employed the first instants of the siege in taking what
precautions the circumstances admitted. He next proceeded to indite a
hasty line, destined for the sovereigns Ferdinand and Isabella, who were
journeying in the province, to inform them of his situation, and request
immediate assistance. A black slave was selected to be the bearer of the
letter: but, thinking to inspire him with greater promptitude and zeal,
an attendant thrust into his hand a purse of money together with the
document.

The effect of this was the opposite to that which was intended. The
negro treated himself at every house of entertainment on his road;
until, before he had half accomplished his journey, he was totally
incapacitated for further progress. This circumstance could not,
however, influence the fate of the besieged prelates; who would have had
time to give complete satisfaction to the offended Moors before the King
could receive the intelligence. Fortunately for them, the news had
reached the governor of Granada, a general officer in whose religious
zeal they had not had sufficient confidence to induce them to apply to
him for aid in the emergency. That officer, on hearing the state of
things, sent for a body of troops stationed at a neighbouring village,
to whose commander he gave orders to place a guard, for the protection
at the same time of the churchmen from violent treatment, and of the
Moors from every sort of molestation. This adventure of the Archbishop
drew upon him the temporary displeasure of the Court.

[Illustration: PORTAL OF SAN TELMO, SEVILLE.]

The public buildings of Seville are on as grand a scale as those of some
of the principal capitals of Europe. The college of San Telmo, fronting
the Christina-gardens, is composed of two large quadrangles, behind a
façade of five or six hundred feet in length, the centre of which is
ornamented by a portal of very elaborate execution in the _plateresco_
style. The architect, Matias de Figueroa, has literally crammed the
three stories with carved columns, inscriptions, balconies, statues
single and grouped, arches, medallions, wreaths, friezes. Without
subjecting it to criticism on the score of purity, to which it makes no
pretension, it certainly is rich in its general effect, and one of the
best specimens of its style. This college was founded for the
instruction of marine cadets, and for that reason named after S. Telmo,
who is adopted by the mariners for their patron and advocate, as Santa
Barbara is by the land artillery. He was a Dominican friar, and is
recorded to have exercised miraculous influence on the elements, and
thereby to have preserved the lives of a boatful of sailors, when on the
point of destruction. The gardens in front of this building are situated
between the river and the town walls. They are laid out in flower beds
and walks. In the centre is a raised platform of granite, forming a
long square of about an acre or more in extent, surrounded with a seat
of white marble. It is entered at each end by an ascent of two or three
steps. This is called the Salon, and on Sundays and Feast-days is the
resort of the society of Seville. In the winter the hour of the
promenade is from one to three o'clock; in the summer, the hours which
intervene between sunset and supper. During winter as well as summer,
the scent of the flowers of the surrounding gardens fills the Salon,
than which it is difficult to imagine a more charming promenade.

The cigar manufactory is also situated outside the walls. It is a modern
edifice of enormous dimensions, and not inelegant. In one of the rooms
between two and three hundred _cigareras_, girls employed in rolling
cigars, are seen at work, and heard likewise; for, such a Babel of
voices never met mortal ear, although familiar with the music of the
best furnished rookeries. The leaden roof, which covers the whole
establishment, furnishes a promenade of several acres.

I am anxious to return to the interior of Seville, in order to introduce
you to the Lonja; but we must not omit the Plaza de los Toros, (bull
circus,) situated likewise outside the walls, and in view of the river.
It is said to be the handsomest in Spain, as well as the largest. In
fact it ought to be the best, as belonging to the principal city of the
especial province of _toreadores_. It is approached by the gate nearest
to the cathedral, and which deserves notice, being the handsomest gate
of Seville. The principal entrance to the Plaza is on the opposite side
from the town, where the building presents a large portion of a circle,
ornamented with plain arches round the upper story. This upper portion
extends only round a third part of the circus, which is the extent of
the part completed with boxes and galleries, containing the higher class
seats. All the remainder consists of an uniform series of retreating
rows of seats, in the manner of an amphitheatre, sufficient for the
accommodation of an immense multitude. These rows of seats are continued
round the whole circus: but those beneath the upper building are not
accessible to the same class of spectators as the others--the price of
the place being different. This is regulated by the position with regard
to the sun, the shaded seats being the dearest. The upper story consists
of an elegant gallery, ornamented with a colonnade, in the centre of
which the box of the president is surmounted by a handsomely decorated
arch.

The circus, measured from the outside, is about two hundred and fifty
feet in diameter. Those who are desirous of witnessing to what lengths
human enthusiasm may be carried, should see a representation in this
Plaza. With seven prime bulls from La Ronda, and a quadrille of Seville
_toreros_--the enormous circumference as full as it can hold, (as it
always is,) it is one of the most curious sights that can be met with.

The origin of this amusement is not easy to be ascertained. It was
undoubtedly in vogue among the Spanish Arabs, and probably originated in
the time of the Goths, on the falling off of the representations of the
Roman amphitheatres for want of a sufficient supply of wild beasts. In
times not very remote, it had become principally an amateur performance,
and the _toreros_ were men of rank, who made choice of this arena,
subsequently to the falling into disuse of the lists, in order to
exhibit their daring and dexterity before the objects of their flame.
The science is still studied by the greater part of the Spanish youth;
just as, in England, the custom is maintained of receiving instruction
in pugilism; but an amateur is rarely seen in these days to figure in a
public arena.

The intense interest which absorbs the feelings of those present at
these representations, affords a faint notion of what must have been the
attractions of a Roman circus, in which combats were sustained by
hundreds of wild beasts. In the bull-fight--sustained by a single
animal, the interest would not probably be excited by the mere contest
for life which takes place between the man and the brute, and of which
the ultimate result is foreseen. It would, on the contrary, often yield
to the disgust produced by the needless massacre of the horses; were it
not that the graceful performance of the _toreros_, and their elegant
costume, so well calculated to set off the symmetry of their form, first
draws the attention, which, once fixed, is gradually absorbed by the
progress of the contest, and at length irresistibly won by the variety
of unforeseen incidents which follow in rapid succession.

Frequenters of theatres have been seen to fall asleep during the most
stirring scene of a melodrame; and a continual murmur of conversation
usually forms a running accompaniment to the voices of opera singers;
but no one was ever detected slumbering in a _plaza de toros_; nor is a
remark uttered that does not relate to the performance. This difference
may probably be explained by the superior attraction of the _imprévu_.
In the playhouse not only is the event known beforehand, but also every
incident by which it is preceded; whereas, throughout a _corrida de
toros_ nothing can be foreseen. No one knows, during the present minute,
whether the next will give birth to the direst of tragedies, or to the
most exhilarating farce.

At Madrid the representations are inferior to those at Seville. They are
able, it is true, to procure as fierce bulls; but they are brought from
a considerable distance, and are much more expensive. The principal
inferiority consists in the men, who at Madrid are wanting in the
rapidity of eye, and careless courage of the Andaluz. On the entrance of
a bull on the arena, whose attitude gives promise of an animated course,
almost all the Madrid _toreros_, (I have seen all,) will, at his first
onset, disappear simultaneously over the _barrera_. The _barrera_ is the
enclosure of stout planks, strengthened by posts, which separates the
performers from the spectators. It is about six feet in height. At a
height of three feet a projecting ledge runs round the whole, upon
which, in vaulting over, the _toreador_ places his foot. Behind this
enclosure an open space of four feet in width is left, and serves as a
refuge for those who are hard pressed. Very different is the graceful
and careless attitude with which the Andaluz awaits the approach of the
infuriated brute, and quietly springs aside with a flourish of his
mantle of silk, while he knows there are others at hand to draw off the
animal's attention.

With the exception of the _Toros_ the public amusements of Seville are
limited to the balls at the Lonja during the Carnival, and to the opera.
The opera varies its own pleasures, while it distributes its favours
between the two western capitals of the province. From midsummer to
midwinter Cadiz receives her share of melody, and the remaining six
months are bestowed on Seville. Xeres has, I believe, a company to
itself, supplied by a different _impresario_.

The Rossi is an excellent _primera dama_, although wanting in animation;
and Comfortini is by no means a bad tenor. The second tenor, Tosi, is
said to be ambitious of displaying his somewhat exaggerated attitudes on
the boards of the Haymarket. There is a deficiency of _ensemble_, since
the severe discipline necessary for obtaining that result does not
accord with the genius of the place--or perhaps an unexceptionable
_maestro de capella_ is too expensive a luxury to suit the Seville
purses. However this may be, the easy inhabitants, who hear the same
opera frequently six times in a week, and would hear it seven times had
not the performers a holiday on Saturday--may be taken grievous
liberties with before they utter a complaint. They, in fact, look upon
the performance chiefly as an excuse for resorting to this their
habitual lounge.

The Barbiere di Seviglia should, however, be witnessed here by every
amateur. It is only here that justice is done to the _libretto_ of
Rossini's masterpiece. Figaro becomes a real barber, and scorns all
velvets and finery; and Almaviva leaves his court-dress at home, and
takes a good _capa_ of _paño pardo_ for his nocturnal excursions. The
scenery represents the actual streets of Seville. Local customs are
introduced, and local expressions interspersed in the Italian dialogue.
On this occasion one spirit animates boxes, lunetas, orchestra, and
stage. At the opening note of the first melody the allegro, passing like
electricity from the corner of the page through the eye, brain, and arm
of the leader, appears as though it spirted like wildfire from the
extremity of his bow over stage, boxes, stalls, and galleries, lighting
up in an instant all eyes with animation and pleasure.

In the scene of old Bartolo's discomfiture the melodies of the _maestro_
are totally extinguished beneath the din of overturned tables and
chairs, and cracking furniture; and the joyous exclamations of the
entire assembly, unite with the jibes of the actors, and seem to pursue
the poor old guardian with one overwhelming peal of derision.

But it is only in this one instance that representations come off in
such a manner. On the contrary, the company exhibit habitually all the
aristocratic _nonchalance_ of larger capitals. Their business there is
society. It is there that _les affaires de coeur_ hold their Royal
Exchange; and observation, conjecture, and speculation,--but usually
without ill-nature,--sufficiently occupy those who are not actors in
this general by-play. The youth of these climes do not put in practice
the same arts of concealment and reserve as are adopted in colder
cities; but each, unconscious of evil, makes for the box of his
_enamorata_; or, if that is impossible, for the nearest vacant
situation. Advise, therefore, any friend who may intend visiting
Seville, not hastily to pay his visit of curiosity to the opera, but to
wait, if possible, until offered a seat by some _habituée_ in her box.
This _Senora_ may possibly not have any _affaire_ of her own on hand; in
fact the married ladies of course form an exception, if not in all
cases, at least as far as regards such undisguised manifestations of
preference:--in this case she will take delight in putting him _au fait_
of all those that are going forward.

If in a conversable humour she will do more. Commencing with the
nearest, or the most conspicuous of the performers in these mute dramas,
she will relate to him the vicissitudes of the respective histories up
to the time then present, and the probabilities which each case may
suggest for the future. Thus your friend, instead of having sacrificed
an entire evening to the dubious amusement of following the plot of a
single opera, which may have been a bad one, or interpreted by bad
actors, will return to rest with some score of plots and romances
filling all the corners of his memory--all possessing the zest of
reality and actuality, as he will have contemplated the heroes and
heroines in their mortal shape, and clothed in indisputable _capas_ and
_mantillas_; besides, another advantage which these romances will
possess over all the popular and standard novels--that of omitting the
most insipid chapter of all, the one containing the _dénouement_.

There only remain two public buildings worthy of notice; but they are
such as to rank among the most remarkable of Spain. The Lonja (Exchange)
was erected during the reign of Philip the Second, in the year 1583, by
Juan de Herrera. At this period the excesses committed in all parts of
Spain by the architects, no longer restrained by rule of any sort, had
brought about a salutary effect, after a sufficiently lengthened surfeit
of extravagance. Herrera took the lead in the reaction, and followed the
more correct models of art.

Among the authors of some of the most lamentable specimens of aberration
of style scattered throughout Spain, are found several names high in
rank among the painters of the best period. These artists, desirous of
emulating some of the great masters of Italy, who had attained equal
superiority in architecture, painting, and sculpture, risked their
reputation in these different pursuits with greater confidence than just
appreciation of their peculiar genius. At the head of them was Alonzo
Cano, one of the most distinguished painters of the schools of
Andalucia; and who has been called the Guido of Spain. He may certainly
lay a more legitimate claim to that title than to that of the Michael
Angelo of Spain, accorded to him by some of the less judicious of his
admirers for no other reason than that of his combining the three above
mentioned arts.

His paintings are characterized by a peculiar delicacy of manner,
correct drawing, and exquisite finish. The sickly paleness of his flesh
is sometimes unpleasing, and his personages are gainers by the addition
of drapery, in the arrangement of which he approaches to the excellence
of the best Italian schools. The life of this artist was varied by more
adventure than usually falls to the lot of those of his profession. His
talent as a painter had already become celebrated while he was still a
monk, having taken the vows very early in life. He had been from the
first an enemy to the subordination of the cloister, and at length a
series of irregularities led to his expulsion from his monastery.

Alonzo was not, however, the original inventor of this eccentric style.
A Roman architect, Francisco Borromini, the rival of Bernini, and of
whom it was said, that he was the first of his time in elevation of
genius, and the last in the employment of it,--is supposed to have first
introduced it. Followers and imitators of these sprung up in great
numbers, and Spain was speedily inundated with extravagancies: façades,
moulded into more sinuosities than a labyrinth,--cornices, multiplying
their angles like a saw, murderously amputated columns, and
broken-backed pediments. Juan de Herrera was not, probably, possessed of
more talent than the Roman; but of what he had he made a better use. His
reputation was beginning to make rapid progress when he was selected, on
the death of Juan Baptista de Toledo, to continue the Escorial. His task
there was not the simple one of continuing the unfinished pile according
to the plans already traced.

The religious fervor of Philip the Second was on the ascent, and during
the progress of the building he had resolved to double the number of
monks, for whom accommodation had been provided by the original plan. To
meet this necessity, Herrera raised the buildings to double their
intended elevation. His completion of this immense work, rendered more
difficult than it would have been had the original design been his own,
or even had that of his predecessor been persisted in (for various
other modifications were commanded, especially with regard to the plan
of the church,) fully established his fame; and the edifice would
probably have gained, had Philip not, at the last moment, yielded to a
new caprice, and called in another artist (the architect of the famous
country-house of the Viso) to erect the great staircase.

The object of Herrera, traceable in all his works, was the
re-establishment of antique art in all its purity. In cathedrals success
was more difficult of attainment than in civil edifices; but the effort
is easily discerned, striving against the difficulties inseparable from
the system, which applies to the purposes of one creed the principles of
art invented for ministering to other forms. His cathedral of Valladolid
is an instance of this: the most unsuccessful portion of which (the
tower) has fallen before the completion of the edifice. Should the works
ever be continued, this would be a most fortunate circumstance, were it
not that the future builders are sure to persist in the same course, and
to disfigure the pile with another similar excrescence, in contempt of
symmetry and rule.

The Lonja of Seville is a structure so perfect as to bid defiance to
criticism. It might have been built by Vitruvius. The general plan is a
quadrangle, enclosing a court surrounded by an arcade. There are two
stories, ornamented externally by pilasters. The order is Tuscan, both
above and below. The court, staircase, and various apartments, are
decorated with a profusion of the rarest marbles. The whole is a
specimen, almost unique, of chaste elegance and massive solidity. In
this edifice, the resort of wealthy traders during the period of the
colonial prosperity of Spain, are contained, among the archives, the
original despatches of Columbus: and, it is also said, those of Cortez
and Pizarro.

The Ayuntamiento, or Town Hall, is an edifice of another sort. It is of
the _plateresco_ epoch. But Seville, having been apparently preserved by
especial favour from the introduction of specimens of bad taste; it is a
building of extreme beauty. The façade is divided into two unequal
parts. The smaller of the two is covered with sculpture, and contains an
open porch or vestibule, decorated throughout with a profusion of
ornament. I could not learn the name of the artist to whom these
sculptures are attributed, but they are worthy of the chisel of John of
Bologna. The other portion of the front is without ornament from the
ground to the first story, along the whole extent of which runs a series
of open arches supported by columns. These columns and arches are models
of lightness and grace.

The Ayuntamiento is situated in the Plaza de San Francisco; from one
extremity of which a street leads to the cathedral: at the other
commences the principal street of Seville, called the Calle de la
Sierpe. Here are all the best shops, and the principle cafés. It leads
also to the post-office, to the opera, and to the Plaza del Duque, so
called from its containing the house of the Duke of Medina Sidonia; but
it possesses, likewise, two other ducal residences, besides others of
almost equal pretension. These mansions are scarcely ever occupied by
their proprietors. It is a small irregularly formed place, and its ducal
habitations, whatever they may be internally, by no means improve its
appearance.

A few streets further on is the Alameda. This is a place magnificent in
extent, but possessing no architectural merit. Its principal ornament is
an avenue of elms, of about half a mile in length, at the head of which
are placed the two antique columns and statues of the temple of
Hercules. At the further extremity, on the left, is the church of the
Jesuits, closed since the revolution.


THE END.

LONDON:

Printed by S. & J. BENTLEY, WILSON, and FLEY,

Bangor House, Shoe Lane.


FOOTNOTES:

[1] The very polite individual alluded to no longer fills the post of
Consul at Bayonne.

[2] The following inscriptions are placed at the feet of the respective
statues:

"Aqui yace el muy Ilustre Señor Don Pedro Hernandez de Velasco,
Condestable de Castilla, Señor del estado, y gran casa de Velasco, hijo
de Don Pedro Hernandez de Velasco, y de Doña Beatriz Manrique, Condes de
Haro. Murio de setenta y siete años, anno de mil cuatro cientos y
noventa y dos, siendo solo Virey de estos reynos por los Reyes
Catolicos."

"Aqui yace la muy Ilustre Señora Doña Mencia de Mendoza, Condesa de
Haro, muger del Condestable Don Pedro Hernandez de Velasco, hija de Don
Inigo Lopez de Mendoza, y de Doña Catalina de Figueroa, Marqueses de
Santillana. Murio de setenta y nueve annos, anno de mil y quiniento."

[3] The above woodcut may, it is hoped, serve as a guide to future
travellers in their search for this head, of which it has no pretension
to give an adequate idea.

[4] It will be seen that this letter was written shortly after the
Queen's return to Spain, and previous to the publication of her
marriage.

[5] It is probable that this threat, supposing it real, may have
assisted in determining the Queen's resolution, since executed, of
publishing the marriage.

[6] The crown was valued in Cadiz at a hundred and sixty thousand
pounds, of which the emerald, which supports the cross, represents forty
thousand.

[7] She is of a wood, whether artificially or naturally, of a tint
between the darkest mahogany and ebony.

[8] The Author has in every instance made use of the word Gothic, in
preference to the employment of any sort of periphrasis; considering
that the chief intention of a name is, not that its application should
accord with its derivation, but rather that it should present to all who
know it, or have dictionaries, an identical meaning, in order that the
idea of the individual employing it may be speedily caught. Now the word
Gothic having always been applied to this architecture, it is
comprehended. A dismounted highwayman is termed a pad. The oblong area
in the centre of Madrid is called a door. "What's in a name?"

[9]

    "Who does a kindness is not therefore kind.--
    Perhaps the wind has shifted from the East."--POPE.

[10] Feeling his powers as a draughtsman inadequate to do justice to
this court, the author has inserted the above sketch merely to show the
general architectural design.

[11] He had put to death the "Master of St. Bernard," a title of those
days possessed by the chief of that order appointed by the Pope. It was
Urbano V, who, on the occasion of this act, resented at the same time
various other offences.

[12] The above is gathered from the following passage of Appianus
Alexandrinus. "Relicto, utpote pacata regione, valido præsidio, Scipio
milites omnes vulneribus debiles in unam urbem compulit, quam ab Italiâ
Italicam nominavit, claram natalibus Trajani et Adriani, qui posteris
temporibus Romanum imperium tenuere."

Elius Sparcianus, in the life of Adrian, says, "Origo imperatoris
Adriani vetustior a Picentibus, posterior ab Hispaniensibus manat;
siquidem Adriâ ortos majores suos apud Italicam, Scipionum temporibus
resedisse in libris vitæ suæ Adrianus ipse commemorat."

[13] No other town is so placed as to accord with the description given
by Pliny, who passes it on the right bank of the river, and arrives at
Seville lower down on the left: "Italica et a lævâ Hispalis colonia
cognomine Romulensis."

Lucas de Tuy, who wrote four centuries back, says, "Italica est Hispalis
Antigua."

[14]

    Hic fertur Apostolico
    Vates fulsisse tempore:
    Et prædicasse supremum
    Patrem potentis filii.



Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:

Alonza Cano=>Alonzo Cano (1)

Abderrahman=>Abderahman (1)

Andalusia=>Andalucia (1)









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