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WILLIAM GEORGE DAWSOJ<:

A SUMMEE IN SPAIN.

ft KNICHT.S'. ; \

RAVINE BETWEEN THE ALHAMBRA AND GENERALIFE,

A SUMMER IN SPAIN.

MES. EAMSAY,

AUTHOR OF A

'translation or dante's diyina cqmmedia.' , •■

/.T TORTOSA.

LONDON" :

TINSLEY BEOTHEES, 8, CATHERINE STEEET, STRAND.

1874.

[All rights ReserreJ.']

A SUMMER IN SPAIN.

MES. EAMSAY,

AUTHOR OF A

'translation op dante's divina commedia.'

LONDON:

TINSLEY BROTHEES. 8, CATHERINE STREET. STRAND.

1874.

lAll rights Eeierved.^

"H.3

FEINTED BY TATXOE AND CO.,
LITTIB QUEEN STBBET, IINCOLN's INN PIELDS.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

PAGE

Doubts and Difficulties — Custom-house — Troops at Zu-
marraga — Arrival at Burgos — Las Huelgas — Cartuja of
Miraflores — Tomb of the Cid — Cathedral . . . 1

CHAPTEE II.

Comforts and Discomforts — Prices — Politeness — Arrival
at Valladolid — Cathedral— San Pablo— Colegio of San
Gregorio — San Miguel — House of Columbus — Museum
— Plaza Mayor — Journey to Avila — Cathedral — San
Tomas — San Segundo — San Vicente — G-ranite Bulls —
Costume 17

CHAPTEE III.

Journey from Avila — Wild Elowers — Guadarrama — Eirst
Impressions of Madrid — Puerta del Sol — Plaza Mayor —
The Spanish Veil and Spanish Fashions — the Prado —
Climate — Society — Picture Gallery .... 41

CHAPTEE IV.

Academy of San Eemando— Palace of the Duke of Alva—
Plaza de Oriente — Eoyal Stables and Coach-houses —
Unpopularity of King Amadeus — St. Antonio de la
Florida— Atocha— Bull-fights— Fete Dieu ... 65

vi Contents.

CHAPTER V.

1'A(;e

Toledo — Casa de Huespedes — First Impressions of the
Cathedral — San Juan do los Reyes — St. ]M aria la Blauca
—El Transito— Jews of Toledo— Old Palace of the
Moorish Kings — j^ Tagus Eel — Experiences of Sketch-
ing — Pet Animals — Chapels in the Cathedral — Alcazar
— Zocodover — El Cristo de la Luz— Puerta del Sol —
Hospital of Santa Cruz — Aranjuez .... 95

CHAPTER VI.

A Spanish Diligence — Mountain Road — La Granja — Gar-
dens — Palace — Marshal Serrano — Water\yorks — An Ac-
tive Tortoise — Snakes — Drive to Segovia — Old Amphi-
theatre — Cathedral — Little Manuela — Alcazar — Mint —
Santa Cruz — San Domingo — San Esteban — Aqueduct —
Parral — Vera Cruz — Provincial Museum — Journey to
Escorial — Church — Eoyal Sepulchres — Library — Pic-
tures — Back to Madrid 123

CHAPTER VII.

Journey to Granada — First Visit to the Alhambra — Ara-
bic Inscriptions — Legends — Cathedral — Gipsy Town —
San Nicholas — Pigs — Cartuja — Casa de Tiros — Genera-
life— Oleanders — Garden of the Adarves . . 170

CHAPTER VIII.

Spanish Protestant Church in Granada — Schools — Villa
Bella Vista — Mosque — Tower of the Captive — Tower o£
the Infantas — Cuarto Real or San Domingo — Artist's
Studio — Museum — Vineyard — Spanish Agriculture —
Political Dinner — A House in Granada — Monte Sacro —
Fountain of Tears — Funerals — Farewells — Journey to
Cordova 210

Contents. vii

CHAPTEE IX.

PAGE

The Court of Oranges — The Mosque^ — Cordovan Silver —
Eecently discovered Mosaic — Jnan De Mena — Necro-
mancy — Palace of Azzahra ...... 247

CHAPTER X.

Arrival at Seville — Cathedral — Crocodile — Giralda — Al-
cazar — Ruby of the Eed King — Grardens — Museum —
Hospital of La Caridad — Library — Palace of the Duke
de Montpensier — Las Delicias — House of Murillo —
Palace of the Duke of Alva — Casa O'Lea — Casa de
Pilatos — Fruit-market — Protestantism in Seville — Car-
tuja — Italica . . ...... 271

CHAPTER XI.

Cadiz — Church of the Capuchins — MurHlo's last Pictures
— Cathedral — Polite Boys — Journey to Algeciras —
Sugar-canes — First view of Gibraltar — Eambles on the
rock — Monkeys 309

CHAPTER XIL

Voyage to Tangiers — Custom-house — Market — Costume
— Hareem — Jewels — Tangerine Tea — Eoman Bridge —
Palace of the Pasha — Garden of the Swedish Consul —
Moorish Lilies — Country Walk — Bazaar — Jewish Feast
of Tabernacles — Synagogue — Back to Gibraltar . . 328

CHAPTER XIII.

Voyage to Malaga— Castle— Cathedral — Eaisins —Gorge
of the Guadalhorce — Insecure Bridge — Arrival at Ali-
cante — First Impressions — Esplanade — Pomegranates
— The City of Palms — Journey to Valencia — Cathedral
— Colegio del Patriarca — Dies Irae — Museum — Gal-
lery of the Marquis de Casarojas — Grao . . . 374

viii Contents.

CHAPTER XIV.

PAGE

Lonely Sea-coast — Mistakes of Travellers — Tortosa — Ca-
thedral of Tarragona — San Pablo — Cyclopean Walls —
Roman Aqueduct — Tomb of the Scipios — Museum of
Antiquities — Palace of Augustus — Roman Amphitheatre
— Carlists — Detention and DifRculties — Hasty Depar-
ture — Barcelona — Cathedral — Roman Remains — Mon-
juich — San Pablo del Campo — Casa de la Disputacion
— Danger from Brigands — Farewell to Spain . . 400

A SUMMER IN SPAIN.

CHAPTEE I.

Doubts and Difficulties — Custom-house — Troops at Zumar-
RAGA — Arrival at Burgos — Las Huelqas — Cartuja of

MiRAFLORES — ToMB OF THE CiD — CATHEDRAL.

Often had we wished to make a tour in Spain, but,
unfortunately, it had never happened that the country
was quiet when we could go. After the accession of King
Amadous, we, believing in the rose-coloured view of
things at that time prevalent in Italy, thought the suit-
able time had come. But one's Eoman winter home is
too pleasant a thing to leave without due considera-
tion ; and we greatly dreaded carpetless rooms, chim-
neyless houses, and discomforts in general. There
was our bright Eoman life on the one hand ; on the
other, the glories of the Madrid gallery ; the Moorish
memories of Cordoba; the orange-groves of Seville;
Cadiz, rising like Yenus from the sea ; the palm-forests

A Simuner in Spain.

of Elehe ; our own Gibraltar, and, fairest of all, the
Arabian Alhambra.

But the cold of travelling in Spain in winter !
What was to be done ? It is so pleasant to see
things ! Yet it is so disagreeable to be uncomfort-
able, and especially to break up one's winter home
one's house, to the manifold inconveniences of which
one has got accustomed; one's old and trusty servants,
to whose shortcomings one has become positively
,att3checv !

At length the idea occurred to me, "If it be objec-
tionable to go in winter, why not go in summer ? "
Certainly, in that case, we should not suffer from
the cold, whatever else might be our miseries.
But, then, it might be too hot. "Well, we had spent
summers in Italy, and it was rather hot ; yet I
don't think we ever regretted it. We could go
to the Pyrenees if Spain were too hot. At least, I
said so ; but privately I had it in my mind to spend
the hot months quietly at Granada ; only I did not
say so, for fear of being told it was impossible. Why,
it was almost Africa.

Accordingly, we decided that we should leave
Eome soon after Easter, 1872, and take advantage
of the apparently peaceable state of the country.
AVe sent for a Spanish master ; and were provided,

Doubts and Difficulties.

by the kindness of our friends, with letters of intro-
duction for Madrid and elsewhere. All was prosjDer-
ing, when just as our things were packed up, came
the news of the Carlist insurrection.

It was exceedingly provoking; and we were
obliged to delay our departure a little. If they
would only have kept quiet for six months more !
We very nearly abandoned our project ; but a friend,
who had lived long in Seville, advised us to take
courage, saying, '' If you don't like revolutions,
why did you ever plan a tour in Spain ? "

At last we determined to go on and trust to
Fortune. "We might possibly be able to get in if we
went to the frontier ; at any rate, it was quite cer-
tain that unless we went there, we had no chance. If
things were very bad, we could stay at Biarritz, or
go to the Pyrenees for the summer ; and perhaps in
autumn we might get . across the Bidassoa. And
there was always the hope that the newspaper
accounts might be exaggerated ; which, as we after-
wards found, was very far from being the case.

On the 25th of April we started, and got on pros-
perously till we arrived at Bayonne, where the news
greeted us that the rails were cut, there was fighting
along the line, and nobody could go into Spain. At
the station no tickets were issued.

A Siumner in Spain.

Next day it was reported that the way was clear^
But the accounts were so conflicting that we went to
the English Consul to ask his opinion. He prudently
said he did not exactly like to advise people to go on,
when the country was in such a state ; but it cer-
tainly was possible to pass, others having gone
without meeting with any inconvenience. On further
inquiry, he said that one of the stations, Zumarraga,
was in the hands of the Carlists ; but that there
seemed to be a kind of understanding that as long
as the trains brought only passengers, and not troops,
nor material of war, they would be allowed to
pass.

That evening, however, the trains were again at
a standstill. We therefore thought it best to go on
to Biarritz, and wait for calmer times. There we
were fortunate enough to meet friends coming out of
Spain, who said they had found no difficulties to
signify, and strongly urged us to go on.

We were quite willing to follow this advice ; the
only obstacle was, that the trains did not go. There
was nothing for it but to enjoy ourselves at Biarritz.
Sketching, scrambling about the cliff's, and walking
on the sands by that delicious green sea. So pleasant
was it, that I think we were almost sorry when we
were told that we could now have tickets for Spain.

The Custo77t- house.

Tickets for Spain ! How strange it sounded !
"We started for Burgos on the 15th of May, by the
midday train, and ahnost immediately, as it seemed
to me, crossed the Bidassoa. Of course, we were
stopped at the frontier to have our luggage examined.
The solemnity of the Custom-house officers wa?
something appalling ; my heart died within me as ]
advanced with my keys.

The boxes were opened, and the douanier very
gravely and very slowly drew on a pair of perfectly
clean white gloves, and then proceeded to turn over
my dresses with the utmost care and minuteness.
No waiting-maid could have handled them more
daintily.

But everything was examined : what he expected
to find I don't know ; he made no remark, replied
only by a bow to my attempts at Spanish conversa-
tion, and when he had carefully looked at every-
thing in my box, he motioned me to open my bag.
I did so ; and the same process was gone through.
At last he drew out a new sponge-bag which I had
bought at Bayonne, and holding it cautiously between
his finger and thumb, asked what it was. I explained
as best I could. He looked graver than before, and
politely requested me to open it. I did so ; and he
shut one eye, and looked in with the other, holding

A Su7mner in Spain.

it, however, at arm's length, as if he feared it would
ex^Dlode. Seeing that he was not satisfied, I offered
to take out the sponge, that he might examine it at
his ease. "It would be better,"' he said. On the
sponge being extracted, he asked " of what use that
could possibly be ? " I tried to explain the use of a
sponge, as well as my limited command of Spanish
would permit. He listened coui'teously, but with
evident disbelief, saying, " It might be so ; but he
had never seen such a thing before."

However, he did not confiscate the article, perhaps
because he was so persuaded of its uselessness ; and
at last I was allowed to depart.

We should have much liked to stop at San Sebas-
tian, and also at Pasajes, where the harbour is ex-
ceedingly curious ; it is like a Scotch loch or a Nor-
wegian fiord, only more completely landlocked. But,
in the present state of things, we thought it wiser to
pass through the Carlist bands as quickly as possible,
and go straight to Eurgos.

The sky was grey, the country was wooded, the
trees just breaking out into their first fresh leaf, little
valleys lay quietly among the hills, little clear streams
ran sparkling below the green boughs ; all was cool,
not to say cold ; and the roads, when there were any,
were exceedingly muddy. There was no dust, no

Troops at Zumarraga.

glare, no sun ; nothing that one had been accustomed
to think Spanish ; not even a donkey to be seen.
The Pyrenees had disappeared in a most extraordinary
manner ; indeed, of all the mountain ranges I have
ever encountered, they are generally the most per-
sistently invisible.

Those green valleys must be most excellent cover
for Carlists and other guerilla bands. No regular
troops would have a chance there. We now under-
stood why it was that the Carlists kept appearing and
disappearing, never any the worse for being defeated ;
if, indeed, they were defeated.

We went on slowly, but comfortably enough, till past
five o'clock, when 1 knew we ought to be approaching
the dreaded station of Zumarraga. At first, we had
been so triumphant at crossing the Bidassoa, that we
were recklessly indifferent to what might happen next.
Now, however, we began to wonder how it might be ;
and just at that moment we perceived a small hole,
the unmistakable mark of a rifle bullet, in most un-
pleasantly suggestive proximity to the passengers'
heads.

While we were considering attentively the mark of
the bullet, and wondering if it had passed through the
carriage yesterday or the day before, and whether it
had done mischief or not, the train slackened speed ;

8 A Slimmer in Spain.

we were coining to a station. I looked out, it was
the dreaded name Zumarraga, and the platform was
crowded with very dii'ty soldiers. However, they
turned out to be the royal troops, who had re-taken
the station the night before. It was well we did not
arrive in the midst of the fighting.

Some of the soldiers were wounded ; and all looked
disconsolate and much dilapidated. ^N'one of them
had stockings, nor shoes either, in oui' acceptation of
the word. They had only sandals ; not the picturesque
sandal of the Abruzzi peasant, but simply a very ill-
shaped bit of leather (or rather of the skin of some
animal, for it scarcely merited the dignity of being
called leather), caught up, toe and heel, witli a dii-ty
rag, and tied round the ankle. We were told that
this was a classical and historical cliaussure^ and exceed-
ingly comfortable besides : it certainly was particularly

ugly.

We went on again, much faster than before. I
fancy they had feared being thrown off the rails, as
was often done by the Carlists, and had therefore gone
very slowly ; consequentl}', we were a good deal behind
time. Away we went through the gathering dusk ;
the scenery grew magnificent ; extraordinary peaks
and pinnacles seemed about to fall on us : it was like
the chaos of an unfinished world.

Arrival at Burgos.

But soon it grew too dark to distinguish anything,
and at 11 p.m. we found ourselves in Burgos.

That same arrival in Burgos was rather more
alarmingly Spanish than anything we had as yet met
with. "What a dirty omnibus it was ! In Spain, as
in some parts of the south of France, the hotels have
not yet reached the luxury of a conveyance of their
own ; and private carriages are, as a rule, even more
unattainable ; so the only means of getting to or from
the station is the common street omnibus, which is
far from select in its inmates, as we perceived on this
occasion. However, we were really exceptionally for-
tunate, for in one corner was an English lady travel-
ling quite alone. This greatly reassured us, as she
had fearlessly come up through . the whole of Spain
in perfect safety, if not always in absolute comfort.

The hotel (Fonda del Norte) did not look very
inviting ; the stair was dark and dirty ; and, as is
always the case in even tolerably good Spanish inns,
nobody came out to meet us, far less to relieve us of
our hand-luggage. With difficulty somebody was
found, who looked a good deal surprised to see us,
but at last showed us a very wretched bedroom.
We were too tired, however, to care much, and soon
were asleep.

It is a curious sensation to waken for the first

lO A Suvimer in Spain,

time in Spain, in Burgos, the very name of which
brings grand old memories of Edward the First of
England, and his heroic wife, his chere reine Eleanor,
or, as I suspect she was called in Spain, Leonor : and
longer ago and grander still, the tales of the Cid him-
self, Euy Diaz of Yivar, the Campeador of Spain.
But on first opening your eyes in this chivalrous city,
it is more curious than pleasing to observe the
many specimens of entomology which have been
familiarly associating with you during the hours of
darkness. It was fearful ! The floor was black with
beetles, one of which ran out of the sleeve of my
waterproof cloak when I put it on. The walls were
spotted with yet more evil insects. I am bound to
state, however, for the honour of Spain, that this, as
it was the first, was also the last really dirty inn we
sufi'ered from in the whole of our Peninsular travels.
In fact, on the whole, Spanish inns are cleaner than
Italian ones used to be in old vetturino days. Even
here, there was next our bedi'oom a tolerably clean
and comfortable little sitting-room, where they said
we might have our chocolate. Accordingly, we had
some of that excellent chocolate, which is the staff of
life in Spain, and set oft' in a curious, old-fashioned,
high-hung hackney coach (the only vehicle in the

Las Huelgas. 1 1

town except the railway-omnibus) to the tomb of the
Cid, and other interesting places round Burgos.

We first went to Las Huelgas, where Edward of
England was knighted by Alonso the Wise, the
astronomer-king, who ventured to doubt the sun
moving round the earth, and was very nearly struck
by lightning in consequence ; so say the monkish
historians. Dante, too, blames this learned monarch,
not on account of his lax astronomical opinions,
but because he neglected the earth for the starry
heaven.

Las Huelgas was, however, not the scene of
Alonso' s astronomical studies, nor of any such hetero-
dox theories. All here was most orthodox, most
Spanish : the nuns in their black and white robes,
sitting on the floor and listening in that icy cold
church to a solemn reading ; the crucifixes clad in
blue or pink silk petticoats ; the represention of Sant-
iago on his white horse, as he appeared fighting
against the Moors at Clavijo, when the worthy
chi'onicler, Bernal Diaz, who fought in the same
battle, remarks, "Xo doubt it was so; but it was
not given to me, a sinner, to see him."

Some of these nuns wore a very peculiar head-dress,
like horns ; it put me in mind of the crescent moon
on the forehead of the Egyptian goddess Athor.

12 A Suuwier in Spai7i.

We asked why they were not all dressed alike ; and
were told that those with the moonlike tire were
the original nuns of Las Huelgas, and were of
high rank ; they, therefore, walk into the choir
before the hornless ladies, who were not noble, and
had been brought here fi'om another convent.

Apart from historical interest, there is not much
to see. at Las Huelgas, and we went on to the
Cartuja, or Carthusian convent, of Miraflores, with
its exquisite alabaster monument of John the Second,
the founder, and his Queen, Isabel of Portugal, the
father and mother of Isabella the Catholic. It is
impossible to imagine anything more fairy-like than
the delicate carving ; one could have spent months in
studying those lovely designs. The vine-foliage en-
circling the kneeling figure of their son, the Infante
Alonso, is also especially beautiful. But the alabaster
blossoms and leaves within the church are all that
now entitle the place to the epithet of Miraflores ;
without, it is desolate and absolutely floworless.

Next we went to San Pedro de Cardena, where
the bones of the Cid once lay, and where his tomb
still remains. "What a strange, dreary wilderness
that country is round Burgos ! The fields were
brown, and the sky was black, and the road (when
there was one) blinding white ; while the wind howled

The Tomb of the Cid. 1 3

wildly over the wide treeless plain. And yet this
was in what elsewhere would have been the merry
month of May ! But can any month be merry in
Old Castile ?

I wonder if it looked like that when the dead
Campeador was brought here on his war-horse,
Bavieca. Certainly, the road, when we saw it, was
much fitter for a horse than for any sort of carriage.
No words can convey an adequate idea of the state it
was in. Between the deep ruts and the high wind,
I cannot think how we escaped being upset. However,
we arrived in safety at that lonely church in the
desert.

There lies the armed figure of the Cid on his
now empty tomb; and in truth the sacristan, and
an old friar aged eighty-eight, who showed it to us,
seemed scarcely more alive than he. They were
anxious for news from the outer world; but were
rather behind in foreign politics. The friar was
surprised and grieved to learn that the house of
Bourbon did not now reign in Naples. We, on
our parts, were equally surprised to hear that
the Carlists were in the Sierra, close to us, march-
ing upon Burgos, which was to rise next day.
Upon this, we reproached oui- guide with bringing
us into danger, saying, he ought to have informed

14 A Slimmer in Spai:

71.

himself before coming. The reply was, " Madame, I
was perfectly aware of it ; but I am a Carlist captain,
and you are safe with me." How it would have
been had the Carlists appeared, I don't know.
Probably, we should have met with perfect polite-
ness ; and I really believe, even without the Carlist
captain, we ran no risk whatever ; but, as it was, we
saw no Carlists, nor indeed any other living thing,
the whole way (five miles) back to Burgos. There,
too, we were much struck with the utter loneliness and
silence of the streets. On asking why there was
nobody visible, the answer was, '' Because ail the
Carlists are obliged, on pain of a fine, to keep
witliin doors." The inference was that the whole
population were Carlists, which we were assured
was really the case.

In the afternoon we went into the Cathedral, that
gorgeous Cathedral, too rich, too sumptuous, be-
wildering in its vaiiety of ornament. It is a
pity that here, as almost everywhere in Spain,
the choir so completely blocks up the interior that
no good general view can be obtained. The plan
of a Spanish cathedi'al is a house within a house.
But the details are exquisite, especially in the
chapel of the Condestable, built for Don Pedro
Fernandez de Yelasco, hereditary Constable of Castile.

The Cathedral. 15

This chapel was built in 1487, by John of Cologne,
who also designed the Cartuja of Miraflores, and
the west front of the Cathedral, with its delicate spires.
The tombs of Don Pedro and his wife are very beauti-
ful. Yet, after walking through all those gorgeous
chapels, one leaves them with eye and mind weary
rather than satisfied. Outside, however, the Cathedral
is perfect, especially when seen in the early morning
from the railway station.

We went also to the Casa de Ayuntamiento
(Town Hall), to see the bones of the Cid and of
Ximena, which are kept in a glass case. Better
had they been left in his beloved San Pedro de
Cardeiia, in the tomb erected for them, six hundred
years ago, by Alonso the Wise.

On the whole, Burgos, with all its dreary desolation,
its strange, bleak loneliness, exceeded my expectations.
I had been told it was quite a French -looking town,
and so perhaps it may appear to those who come from
quiet old Cordoba, where it is difficult to believe that
Abdarrahman is dead ; or from that Oriental bazaar,
the Alcaiceria of Granada. To us, who had just
left comfortable Pau, the very perfection of dull
luxury, and bright little brisk Biarritz, the con-
trast was striking; and the silent streets, with
their projecting miradors, seemed quite Spanish

1 6 A Sunifner in Spain.

enough. It was the old story of the two travellers,
one ascending, the other descending the mountain.

However, as before our departure we heard that
the Carlists really arrived at San Pedro de Cardena
a few hours after we left it, I think we were
rather glad to leave Burgos behind us.

CHAPTER II.

€0mf0rts and discomforts — prices — politeness — arrival at
Valladolid — Cathedral — San Pablo — Colegio of San
Gregorio — San Miguel — House op Columbus — Museum —
Plaza Mayor — Journey to Avila — Cathedral — San
ToMAs — San Segundo — San Vicente — Granite Bulls —
Costume.

IVe left Burgos at 5.30 a.m., after having the un-
failing cup of chocolate, which there is never the
slightest difficulty in procuring, however early the
hour. In this respect Spain is much more comfort-
able than Italy, or France, or indeed any other
country I have ever travelled in. Whether you are
leaving a large hotel, with waiters on each floor, as at
Madrid, or the smallest wayside Posada, without
waiters at all, as at Elche, your chocolate, with a bit
of excellent bread, is brought to your room half an

J 8 A Summer in Spahi.

hour before you wish to start, even if it be 4 a.m.,
and so sustaininjr is this delicious chocolate that you
can travel on for half the day without wishing for
anything more.

How unlike the miseries of an early start in most
countries, where the orders you have given the night
before are never attended to till you gi'ope your way
into the salle-a-mavgcr^ and find all the chaii'S on the
top of the dining-table, while a sleepy, cross waiter
looks injured because you ask for a cup of coffee ;
which is at last brought, along with the bill full of
mistakes, and the announcement that the omnibus
is at the door ! All this annoyance is obviated in
Spain, partly by the prompt chocolate in your room,
and partly by the very convenient system of paying
so much a day, agreed on at the moment of entering
the hotel. The sum varies much, and there are some-
times a few extras, always ascertainable beforehand.
As a general rule, the higher the charge, the more
extras one has to pay ; if the prices are very low,
there are no extras at all. At the Fonda de Paris, in
^Madrid (the dearest hotel we were in), we paid sixty
reals a day each person, a real being about twopence-
halfpenny of English money, or a quarter of a French
franc ; thus the price was about fifteen francs a day
each, or indeed rather more, as the peseta (four reals),

Prices. 19

which answers to the French franc, is really a more
valuable coin ; add to which that the rate of exchange
is always very much against English travellers in
Spain. This sum of fifteen francs included only a
very large and beautifully furnished bedi'oom, with
windows on the Puerta del Sol ; breakfast a la four-
chette, with tea or coffee and wine, and dinner at
table (Thote^ also with wine, which is everywhere
comprised in the daily charge. In some parts of
Spain you have to pay for water (that is, if you are
particular, which all Spaniards are, about having it
very good), for wine, never ; every inn gives that at
discretion ; sometimes good, sometimes bad, but
always abundant. Generally speaking, the wine is
said to be best in out-of-the way places, where there
are few travellers except the muleteers, who won't
drink it unless it is good, and where there are so
few English that it is not worth while to keep bad
wine for them.

In Madrid, the morning chocolate (one franc each),
service, and lights were extra ; also tea or coffee, if
taken at anj^ time but breakfast. At Elche, where
the prices were lowest of all, we paid fourteen reals a
day, everything — chocolate, lights, and service, in-
cluded. At Segovia, twenty reals, also everything
included. The usual price, however, all over Spain,

2.$ * ' ^/8r

20 A Summer in Spain.

except in Madrid, is thirty reals a day ; that is what
one ought to offer, on entering most hotels. At the
Hotel Siete Suelos, at Granada, we paid thirty-five ;
but there we had a very pretty little suite, consisting
of two bedrooms and a sitting-room, and there were
no extras, except the large marble plunge-baths ; they
gave us small baths in our rooms without additional
charge. At Malaga, also, thirty-five was the price ;
but there too we had a large sitting-room. In all
hotels, even when service is charged" in the bill, it is
necessary to give something to waiters, chamber-
maids, and everybody who has or has not done any-
thing for you. Also, I may remark, that in Spain,
much larger gratuities are expected than in France,
Germany, or Italy. Not that the Spaniards are
greedy ; far from it : they will often give you tilings
for nothing ; even an hotel-keeper will sometimes not
charge you for some trifle, saying, " It will be for
the next time." Eut they think it beneath the
dignity of a Spaniard to accept a small sum, or to
work without a large remuneration.

On the whole, the discomforts of travelling in
Spain have been greatly exaggerated. In winter I
ehould think cold must be the great evil, judging by
what we suffered in that respect in May ; while in
all the six months of Spanish summer and autumn,

Comforts and Discomforts. 21

we seldom found it very hot, not at all to be com-
pared with the broiling climate of Italy. Of course,
if one chooses one's residence injudiciously, and fixes
oneself, say at Seville, during the dog-days, it would
probably be intolerable ; but so it would at Bologna,
where St. Dominic, a Spaniard, who should have been
accustomed to a good deal of sunshine, died of heat
in the month of August. And we certainly found
the summer retreats of even the south of Spain cooler
than those of the north of Italy.

We had been told that starvation would be our
inevitable fate, and indeed travellers whom we had
seen coming out of Spain had a sufficiently haggard
and hungry appearance to appal the stoutest heart
Perhaps the season of the year had something to do
with it, for the plentiful supply of fruit and game is a
valuable addition to the commissariat, but, to our
surprise, we found everywhere, without exception, an
abundance of food, generally excellent, of which we
were expected to eat a very great deal. A Spanish
waiter thinks you don't like the food if you eat little,
and is much distressed, often bringing you something
else that he supposes you may prefer. This is not so
much out of kindness as from a wish to uphold the
honour of Spain, the burden of which every Spaniardj
waiter or otherwise, believes to rest upon his own
individual shoulders.

22 A Sn7mner in Spain.

Another miTch-vexed question is that of Spanish
politeness. We had heard the most contradictory
reports, some people saying they were the politest
nation in Europe, others that there never had been
such a rude set of mortals since the world was created.
On asking a friend who had spent many years in
Spain, the reply was, "Both accounts are true."
However, speaking from our own experience, I should
say that, on the whole, the politeness greatly predo-
minates. The graceful courtesy of the upper classes
is unrivalled ; the middle classes also, shopkeepers,
etc., are extremely polite ; on the other hand, the
lower classes are often exceedingly rough, and some-
times even rude, while the street hoys in general may
fearlessly claim to be the most teasing in Europe.
Their great numbers, and, in summer, completely
open-air life, make them the more tormenting ; but in
some places even they were civil, at Cadiz, for in-
stance. After all, we were really wonderfully little
annoyed by them anywhere, but we heard of others
who were less fortunate.

The Spaniards are extremely hospitable, much
more so than the Italians, partly, in all probability,
because there are comparatively few travellers in
Spain, but also, I think, in accordance, with the
national character. On presenting our letters of in-

Arrival at Valladolid. 23

troduction some piece of civility immediately followed,
an invitation to dinner, a box at the opera, a ticket of
admission to some object of interest, permission to see
some private palace not usually shown ; in short, it
never seemed to occur to a Spaniard not to do some-
thing to make a stranger's sojourn agreeable. Their
ideas of hospitality are pushed so far that it is some-
times difficult to prevent a Spanish lady who chances
to be one's fellow-passenger in a railway carriage from
paying for chocolate or any refreshment one may have
taken at a station ; they seem to think it quite shock-
ing to let strangers pay when travelling through their
country.

But all this we learnt afterwards. On our way
from Burgos to Valladolid, Spain was as yet an un-
known country, and certainly not, for the moment, a
very beautiful one. No object of any interest did we
pass, and exceedingly bleak it was till we drew near
Yalladolid, when a few trees in theii' first freshness
enlivened the scene a little.

At Valladolid we aiTived between nine and ten a.m.
The omnibus was rather cleaner than at Burgos,
and there was even some attempt at beautifying it.
My eye was attracted by a sort of glittering star,
dark blue and gold, on the roof. On examination, it
turned out to be the trade-mark of a bale of Man-

24 ^ Smn77ier in Spain.

Chester goods (with the number of yards of muslin
stated round the edge) stuck on by way of ornament,
in the centre of the omnibus roof.

We had intended to go to the Fonda del Norte ;
but as it was shut up, we repaired to the Fonda del
Siglo, which we found very clean and comfortable.
After breakfast we went out to see the town, which is
much more lively than Burgos, in spite of its horrible
celebrity for burning heretics under Philip the
Second.

The Cathedral, planned by that gloomy monarch, is
the image of his own disposition — cold, grey, stern,
yet not without a sort of icy grandeur. But one of
the most beautiful things in Valladolid is San Pablo,
built by the terrible Torquemada. Buildings gene-
rally bear some impress of the character of their
founders. This is certainly an exception to the rule,
unless Torquemada was very unlike what the facts we
know concerning him would lead us to believe.
However, the rich fagade, with twining foliage en-
circling statues and armorial bearings, is said to be of
later date. Adjoining it is the Colegio of San Gre-
gorio, even more beautiful, also with its exquisite
facade and portal branching out into a tree. The court
inside, with the curious staircase, is probably the finest
thing of the kind in existence. It is in that peculiar

San Miguel. 25,

style of very rich ornamentation which prevailed in
Spain in Ferdinand and Isabella's time, and was a
sort of compromise between Moorish and Gothic. In
the reign of Charles the Fifth the German element
predominated, and with Philip the Second came the
frozen semi- classical architecture so cherished by him.
Our guide said that this Colegio of San Gregorio was
now the governor's house.

We then went along a silent sunny street (here for
the first time in Spain we saw that luminary), and
knocked at the door of a small, deserted-looking house.
We were admitted into a quiet. court, surrounded by
low, quaint, picturesque buildings, with wooden
balconies full of flowers. Then we were conducted by
an old woman through part of this tumble-down
house, across a small garden full of weeds ; a door
was opened, and we found ourselves in a stately
church, where the forms of saints and angels stood in
strange life-like beauty, beside the rich altars; and
beneath one of the richest lay the dead figure of our
Saviour, so touching in its weary stillness that one
could scarce look at it save through tears. This was
the Church of the Jesuits, San Miguel.

Of course, we went to see where Columbus died.
Strange that his bones should rest far off, in distant
Cuba ! Somehow, one wishes it had been rather at

26 A Su7Ji7ncr iii Spain.

Cogoletto, where his boyhood was spent by the fresh
seashore.

Our time was too short to sec all the historical
houses and sites of this city. Few towns are as rich
in interesting associations : Cervantes, Calderon,
Gondomar, Alvaro de Luna, Berreguete, Juan de
Juni, Hernandez, all those names are connected in
life or in death with Valladolid ; not to mention
Philip the Second, who was born there.

But we went to the Museum, where we saw (be-
sides the most wi'etchedly bad pictures I have ever
beheld) a great number of carved and painted wooden
statues, from desecrated or ruined churches ; being,
many of them, the figures composing the Pasos, or
representations of the Passion, which are, or were,
brought out in Spain during the Holy "Week. Some
of them are said to be of great merit ; and, if seen
when properly placed and arranged, possibly they
might appear to more advantage. As it was, nothing
could be more grotesque ; angels, Eoman soldiers,
disciples, and the Maries, all higgledy-piggledy, and
combined in a manner that was ludicrous iu the
extreme. Add to which, being of colossal size
and quite close to the beholder, the effect, when not
ludicrous, was terrific. With all allowances, I do
not think that any of the wooden figures in the

Journey to Avila. 27

Museum could ever be so beautiful as those in San
Miguel.

The Plaza Mayor, where the first auto de fe was
held, is now very bright and rather picturesque. The
trees were fresh and green, and there was a market
going on, with peasant-women in bright yellow and
red petticoats. This was the first indication of cos-
tume we had geen. About Burgos, the men were
dressed either like shabby gentlemen, or like Irish
beggars; and I do not remember seeing any woman
at all.

!N"ext mornins: we left Yalladolid at 9.30 a.m.
Much has been said of the ugliness of the country
round ; and, in truth, great part of the way had little
beauty to recommend it. About Medina del Campo, it
was especially bleak, and we could not but be sorry for
Isabella the Catholic, and Joanna the mad, and Csesar
Eorgia, and everybody else who had the misfortune
either to live or to die in such a dismal place. As to
poor Joanna, it was not to be wondered at if she tried
to escape from this dreary abode, even if she had not
had the additional inducement of wishing to rejoin her
much-loved and ungrateful husband ; nor was it any
proof of insanity that she did so. Certainly, however,
a long residence in this most depressing '' City of the
Plain " (as its name signifies in a mixture of Spaiiish

28 A Summer in Spain.

and Arabic) was enough to make anybody low spirited^
if not positively crazy.

After we passed Medina del Campo, the scenery
improved. We came to refreshing clumps of stone-
pines ; and presently to rugged, broken ground, ending
in a perfect wilderness of huge boulders of every form.
"We were in the midst of a high table-land, and the
view was most extraordinary. We looked down on
the Sierra, tinged by '(hf^ varying sunbeams with every
shade of pale yellow and vivid light green ; while the
flitting clouds threw azure and purple shadows,
changing every moment ; and in the distance
stretched away, away an illimitable depth of blue
ether. It was like some of Breughel's wondi-ous
aerial pictures ; with the addition of that strange
chaos of granite in the foreground. It seemed as if
earth were unfinished, without inhabitants or any
life ; and only air and heaven perfect. Apparently
we were hundreds of miles from any town, so utterly
wild was it ; when all at once, almost close to us,
against the sky, rose Avila, many-towered Avila.
Never was there a grander position ; the Apennine
cities shrink into nothing in comparison. It is said
to have eighty- six towers and ten gateways. I did
not count them, but certainly they formed a " diadem
of towers," much more perfect than that of Cortona.

Arrival at Avila. 29

The granite walls are said to be forty feet high,
and twelve feet thick ; and indeed they look massive
enough for anything.

"We arrived at Avila about three o'clock, and pro-
ceeded to the little inn of the " Dos de Mayo," which
did not at first look very promising, the entrance
being full of whitewashers. However, we were
shown a very clean and comfortable room, arranged
in the Spanish fashion, which we now saw for the
first time. As the beds were placed each in a sepa-
rate alcove, which could be closed with glass doors,
the room by day became a sitting-room. This is
convenient in some respects ; but in very hot weather,
though the alcove is generally tolerably cool from the
darkness and the absence of outside wall, there is less
circulation of air, even when the doors are open, than
English people like. I used also to suspect the dark
corners of sometimes harbouring more and larger
spiders and centipedes than could have been desired.
This kind of bedroom is, however, by no means
universal ; in most places one can have it otherwise if
one likes ; and we never saw it at all in Andalusia.
Here all was dazzlingly clean whitewash, above the
faintest suspicion of insect life ; while the weather
was so cold that we were not inclined to quarrel
wdth the snug alcoves.

30 A Smnmcr in Spain,

The landlady made her appearance, and, as we
were extremely hungry, I was just endeavouring to
muster up Spanish enough to beg that some food
might be brought quickly (I had unluckily forgotten
the Spanish for " immediately "), when the delightful
sounds greeted my ear, '^ Would you like a homelette^
ma'am, or shall I send you up some 'am and heggs ? "
IN^ever had I heard the English language more agree-
ably spoken, and soon both dainties smoked on the
table.

Our host and hostess were worthy English people,
who do all in their power to make travellers comfort-
able, and succeed admirably. The landlord, John
Smith by name, and as complete a John Bull as if he
had never left England, was always called Don Juan,
and was evidently greatly esteemed and much liked
by high and low. He had been employed in making
the railway, and afterwards settled at Avila, where
his hotel is indeed a boon to English travellers, he
himself kindly acting as guide, without making any
charge for so doing. We found him extremely well-
informed, much more so than Spanish guides usually
are.

It had now begun to rain so heavily that we gave
up -thoughts of going round the toA^Ti that day, and
ran across the Plaza into the Cathedral. ls"ever shall

The Cathedral. 31

I forget that sight ! I held my breath for very awe.
Grey and dim, with nothing distinctly visible but the
glorious, gem-like windows, all dark rich crimson, blue,
and orange, giving an impression of colour, glowing
colour, ivifhout liglit ; it was to me far grander, because
simpler, than Burgos. Of course, in saying this I
speak only of the interior ; outside, there can be no
comparison. Yet even the exterior of the Cathedral
of Avila is interesting, being half fortress, half church ;
it is plain, at least for a Spanish cathedral, they being
usually very richly and lavishly decorated ; and its
severe early character is striking. It was founded a
hundred and thirty years before that of Burgos, and
about a hundred and thirty-four before the present
Cathedral of Toledo. In fact, it is one of the oldest
in Spain, coming, I think, next to Barcelona, Tarra-
gona, and Santiago, as to date. It is dedicated to the
Saviour, whereas most of the Spanish cathedrals are
in honour of the Virgin Mary.

It is not very large, but its great height, its twi-
light gloom, and the forest of columns round and
behind the High Altar, give an idea of greater size
than it really has. It is also much less blocked up by
the choir than is usual in Spain. The walls are very
dark grey, and those marvellous windows, reaching
far up to the very roof, seem to give, rather than

32 A Slimmer in Spain.

admitj what little liglit there is. Even if we could
have seen the details, I could not have examined them
then. "We sat down, and vespers began ; a few black-
veiled, black-robed figures came in, and crouched low
on the floor in prayer. Spanish women always either
kneel, or sit on their heels, in church ; they never
ventui'e to place themselves on a chair or bench as the
men do. Also, in the churches they always wear the
black veil, and generally a black or very dark dress ;
black being thought in best taste ; and it is well for
strangers to do the same, as they thus escape obser-
vation.

By the time vespers were over, it was so dark that
we had almost to grope our way out of the church.
The rain had now ceased, so we walked round the
outside, and particularly admired the very peculiar
battlements encircling the cloisters. Then we went
back to tlic comfortable little inn to dine and rest.

Our landlady came up ostensibly to see if we had
everything we wanted, which we certainly had; but
really to have the pleasure of a chat with English
people. She told us that our room had been occupied
for a day the year before by the Empress Eugenie,
and was full of praises of her kindness, simple ways,
and great desire to avoid giving trouble. The little
chamber-maid who waited on us, and who was deeply

San Tomas. 33

marked with smallpox, said that she had then scarcely-
recovered from that horrible malady, and that the
Empress, so far from shrinking from the frightfully-
sore and disfigured face, patted her kindly on the
shoulder, and said, " Poor thing ! you have indeed
suffered much."

T^ext morning the weather was better, though still
showery ; and I rose early to sketch the fagade of the
Cathedral. Finding that I could not see it all from
the window, I hastily tied a black handkerchief over
my head, and rushed down into the Plaza, in spite of
H.'s assurances that I should certainly be mobbed:
firstly, for being such a very extraordinary figure ;
and secondly, for drawing at all. Far from it ; the
extreme propriety of my appearance, with my head
tied up in the black handkerchief, completely neutral-
ized the oddity of sketching, and I was left in peace.
Had I gone down in an English hat or a French
bonnet, the result would probably have been very
different and much less agreeable. I mention this
for the benefit of all lady sketchers in Spain.

After chocolate, we started with our friendly host,
Don Juan, to see Avila. Most of the churches are
outside the town, and the walk round the walls is
delightful.

"We first went to San Tomas, to see the exquisite ~

34 A Smjimer in Spain.

marble tomb of the only son of Ferdinand and Isabella,
Prince Juan ; who died, aged nineteen, at Salamanca,
in 1 497, a few months after his marriage. Nothing can
be more lovely than the calm, white figure, so touching
in its perfect repose. All around is deserted ; the
court and cloisters grass-grown, the garden full of
weeds, with a few sweet-smelling herbs.

Strange, that none of Isabella's children should have
had both prosperity and length of days ! This prince
was perhaps the happiest, dying in all the brightness
of youth, having probably never known a sorrow.
His eldest sister, Isabel, Queen of Portugal, died
also young, of consumption ; and her only son, Prince
Miguel, heir of Spain and Portugal, was thrown from
his pony in the streets of Granada, and killed at seven
years old. Poor Joanna's fate is well known ; her life
was long, but sori'owful indeed; and Katherinc, the
j^oungest, the divorced wife of our Henry the Eighth,
was scarcely more fortunate, though happier in her
own natural disposition.

And Isabella herself — one of the best of Queens and
of women, beautiful, talented, and good, a most devoted
and affectionate wife, who, even on her death-bed, was
more anxious about her husband, then also ill of fever,
than about herself — was soon forgotten for tlie young
and giddy Germaine de Foix, Ferdinand's second

San To?nas. 3 5

Queen, whom, report says, he loved far better than he
did the perhaps too perfect Isabella.

But there was the one black spot in her reign, for
which neither she nor Ferdinand were wholly nor
even greatly responsible. Yet, had she been a less
scrupulously conscientious woman, it may have been
that much evil would have been spared ; much misery,
much bloodshed, much burning of heretics. It is one
of those perplexing cases in which one is obliged, un-
willingly, to admit that good intentions may be as
mischievous as bad ones, if not more so.

Even this church of San Tomas, the quiet resting-
place of that calm figure and sweet, still face, was
built with money wrung from the oppressed and
tortured Jews. In the floor of the church is one black
stone, said to be the grave of Torquemada. The
common people quite impute its blackness to its
<30vering the bones of the terrible Inquisitor. How-
ever, at Toledo, they showed us another tomb of Tor-
quemada ; probably only his empty monument, as it
seems likely he should be buried in San Tomas, his
name also being Thomas.

The view from the door of the church is very
striking. A tall, dark grey cross stands up against
the sky ; great masses of granite lie around ; and in

D 2

36 A Summer in Spain.

the distance the Sierra, all dark blue, and purple,
and pale yellow, as the sunbeams come and go.

IS'ext we went to San Segundo, whore, just under
the walls, is another of those grey crosses, marking
the spot where the saint once threw over a Moor,
and, some years afterwards, was thrown over himself.
Three other crosses stand in front of the church, and
we sat on a stone at the foot of one of them, looking
at the wide, varying landscape, and waiting for the
guardiano^ who soon appeared with the keys. Inside,
the chief object of interest is the kneeling statue of
the saint ; it is very beautiful, and reminded us much
of that of Pius the Sixth, by Canova, in the Confession
of St. Peter's at Eome.

Then we went, still following the line of the walls,
to San Yicente„ with its roofless but still most
beautiful and peculiar propyloDum, and its subterranean
church celebrated for possessing a great treasure ;
namely, a serpent that generally bites anybody who
puts his fingers into a certain hole. We did not try
the experiment, so can give no opinion as to the truth
of this. But we greatly admired the extreme beauty
of the church ; and still more, the lovely view from its
entrance. The walls and towers of the town are also
particularly fine at this point.

Now we plunged into the streets, in quest of those

Granite Bulls. 37

very remarkable granite beasts, called bulls, but not
greatly resembling any specimen of that quadruped I
have ever seen. Some people call them pigs ; but
there too the likeness is not striking. One that we
saw was not unlike a hippopotamus ; the smaller ones
had perhaps some resemblance to misshapen pigs.
They now stand in the courtyard of one of the
venerable old houses that abound in Avila.

There has been much dispute as to what these extra-
ordinary creatures really are, and by whom they were
made. Some authors consider them to have been in
commemoration of Julius Caesar's victories ; but they
certainly do not resemble any Eoman work of that
epoch, or indeed of any other date whatever. Even
the bronze Wolf of the Capitol has quite a modern
air in comparison. It seems impossible that at a time
when Eome already possessed the masterpieces of
Greek art,. Csesar could have considered it complimen-
tary to have such uncouth monuments erected in his
honour ; nor does one see why they should have been
in the form of those so-called bulls.

Another view of the case is that they were idols of
the ancient inhabitants ; and it must be allowed they
look old and queer enough for anything. If it be so,
the Spanish aborigenes had very rudimentary ideas
concerning sculpture. How unlike the mild, beautiful

38 A Summer in Spain.

Atlior, the Egyptian Goddess, the Golden Calf, whom
one could scarcely wonder that the Israelites wor-
shipped !

Our guide said that the common opinion among the
natives was that they had been made in the Middle
Ages, and fastened to the doors of those citizens who
refused to pay the taxes. It is quite possible that
they were so used, though not made for the purpose.
However that may be, almost every door in Spain
would be thus ornamented at the present day, if this
mediceval system were fully carried out. And in
Italy also, the same breed of bulls might be introduced
with advantage.

We passed thi-ough the market-place, where there
were most picturesque groups of peasant women in
the bright yellow petticoats universal in that part of
Spain; even children and quite small babies were
attired in the same intensely brilliant hue. The men
wore excessively tight black or brown velvet breeches,
with dangling silver buttons, extremely shortwaisted
jackets, and red sashes. On their heads they had
very large, broad, black velvet hats, with a cmious
point in the middle — genuine somhrerus — that must
have been excellent sunshades. Everybody was
either riding on a donkey or driving one before him.
It was not a handsome population ; the human beings,

• Fine Old Houses. 39

I mean ; the donkeys were beautiful. The men
were all more or less in the style of Don Quixote,
with long legs and arms, and dry, hatchet faces ; the
women burnt almost black, and withered even when
young. But they looked good and respectable ; and
all were politeness itself. Don Juan seemed to know
everybody, and was greeted with respect and liking
wherever he went.

In the afternoon we returned to the cathedral, to
examine it in detail. Behind the choir are most
beautiful reliefs in marble and alabaster. The four
Evangelists are quaintly treated; they are writing,
each with his ink-bottle differently placed ; the eagle
holds it in his beak for St. John, the lion has it in his
paw for St. Mark, while St. Luke had hung his on the
horn of the ox, which arrangement, we thought,
looked the best of all. "We also went into the
deserted, grass-groTVTi cloisters, most beautiful in their
lonely decay.

Next day we again went out under the same
guidance, and saw many fine old houses, with rich
gateways and facades, and pillared courts or patios.
Avila is one of the most perfectly Spanish towns in
Spain, being totally unchanged since the middle ages,
and quite free from all foreign influences, Moorish or
modern. The old house of the Counts of Polentino is

40 A Summer in Spain,

^ ' ■' — • — '■ ' ■ - — ■■■— — ■ ■ ■ '■■■ — ■ — — ■*

one of the finest, the gateway being very richly
decorated.

After our luncheon-breakfast, we took leave, with
much regret, of oui' kind host and hostess, and of the
walls and towers of lordly Avila.

CHAPTEE III.

Journey from Avila — Wild Flowers — Guadarrama — First
Impressions of Madrid — Pferta del Sol — Plaza Mayor —
The Spanish Veil and Spanish Fashions — The Prado —
Climate — Society — Picture Gallery.

The journey from Avila to Madiid is most beautiful ;
over, through, and sometimes under the Guadarrama
range of mountains, there being forty -four tunnels.
As we were passing through one of them the train
slackened speed, and then stopped in utter darkness.
"We sat quietly and contentedly, never dreaming of
danger, and merely supposing it to be the habit of
Spanish trains to stop suddenly in the middle of
tunnels, without apparent cause. But most of our
fellow-passengers became nearly wild ; the men opened
the carriage-doors, and jumped out, shrieking and
gesticulating ; a lady in the same compartment witL

42 A Smjimer in Spain.

us scolded her husband vehemently, as if it had been
his fault, and exclaimed that she was "suffocating;
why had she come in the train ? she should die ; she
must have water ; she must be bled ! " "Water,
happily, was forthcoming ; but, luckily for us, neither
doctor, barber, nor lancets were at hand, so we
escaped the sight of the last-named operation. Cer-
tainly, she looked very uncomfortable ; her face was
purple and swollen, but, I think, only from fear;
there was really no want of air, for, as it turned out,
we were not far from the mouth of the tunnel.
Indeed, I don't think she even fancied there was no
air, or cared about having any ; but terror seemed to
have produced a kind of incipient apoplexy.

We looked out to see if anything was really the
matter. Everybody was running, shouting, swear-
ing ; and the scene looked positively demoniacal in the
red torchlight. IN'obody answered my questions ; and,
at last, a Spanish gentleman in the same carnage,
who had been looking rather amused at the confusion,
and whose coolness contrasted favoui-ably with the
prevailing excitement, offered to go and inqiiii-e.
He came back saying that there was an obstruction at
the mouth of the tiumel, but whether purposely put
there or not nobody knew. There was no danger,
but we must wait.

Wild/lowers. 43

After a long delay we moved slowly on, and then
we could see that large stones and rubbish had been
lying at the mouth of the tunnel ; but whether they
had been put there to cause an accident, or had only
fallen from the top in consequence of the late heavy
rain, we never could learn. Most probably it was the
latter, for this part of the country was comparatively
quiet. Had it happened near Biu-gos, there might
have been reason to suspect it of being the work of
the Carlists, who very frequently put obstructions on
the railway, always, however, signalling the train to
stop, for fear of loss of life.

"With the exception of this incident, our journey
was delighful. The lonely hills were entirely covered
with a carpet of wildflowers. Thickets of cistus, not
only the little shrub with small blossoms that one
sees on the Corniche road, but also the great old-
fashioned gum-cistus, with larger flowers than I have
ever seen in English gardens ; tall purple lavender,
golden broom, and splendid clusters of a pink flower
that was new to me, and which I should have much
liked to examine, clothed the slopes for miles and
miles. Then we got to the top, and looked down on
the vast blue plain of Madrid. And presently we
saw below us a great building, of which there was no
need to ask the name, so well does one know it by

44 ^ Suimner in Spain,

drawing and description. It was like what I ex-
pected ; so like, that I felt as if I had seen it every day
of my life; yet unlike, too, for with all its grand
solitude, its cold severe Spanish aspect, the Escorial
looked, on that bright May afternoon, rather a cheer-
ful place than otherwise. The trees surrounding it
were dazzlingly green ; the pure, bracing air swept
across the flower-clothed hills, laden with the sweet
perfume of lavender and other aromatic herbs; and
over all was the golden sunlight. What it may be
on a wet winter day, I don't know nor even much like
to imagine ; certainly, I shall never endeavour to find
out by personal experience. As it was, it was de-
lightful, and, as I before said, decidedly exhilarating
to the spirits. We a little regretted not having
arranged to stop there before going on to Madi'id;
but, as letters awaited us in the latter place, we had
decided rather to make a separate and luggageless
excursion to Segovia, La Granja, and the Escorial.
Thus, about 8.30 p.ir., we were comfortably settled in
the Ilotcl de Paris, in the gay and brilliant Puerta del

Sol.

Our first impression of Madrid next morning was,
indeed, very brilliant, very gay. Ko traveller should
ever be beguiled, under any pretext whatever, into
establishing him or herself elsewhere than in that

Puerta del Sol. 45

T7orld-famous Puerta del Sol. Other hotels may
possibly be better than the Hotel de Paris ; many, if
not most, are, in all human probability, cheaper ;
they could not well be dearer. But it is worth it
all — worth the extortionate prices, the scanty civility
of the waiters, the enormous cheating of the Greek
porter, who sj)eaks every European and Eastern
language, and the truth in none ; in spite of the
incessant noise that keeps you awake all night,
and the roasting sun that attacks you the moment
you cross the threshold, yet go to the Hotel de
Paris if you wish to be amused and to enjoy
Madrid. The Hotel des Princes is also in the
Puerta del Sol ; the prices are about the same, and it
is said to be rather quieter, and perhaps better in some
respects ; but the position is scarcely so fine. Of
course, it is necessary to have windows to the front ;
the rooms on the side streets, though also cheerful,
have not the coup (Tceil ; and, as the court is occupied
by the cafe of the hotel, the rooms that look in that
direction are unendurable from noise and heat, besides
having no view whatever. "We had three windows
commanding the whole of the Puerta del Sol; and
so lively was it, that we could have been very well
amused all day if we had never gone out at all.

"We had been told that Madrid was thoroughly

46 A Slimmer in Spain.

modernised, that it was quite a Frencli town in fact; we
were, therefore, agreeably surprised to find how un-
mistakably Spanish it is still. If one were dropped
from a balloon in the midst of Madrid, it would be quite
impossible to suppose oneself to be in France, or in
any country except Spain. Modern, of course, it is ;
for Madrid is not an ancient city, nor indeed a city at
all, properly speaking. Yet it is not all absolutely of
yesterday : the Plaza Mayor, more than two centuries
and a half old, has its historical associations ; most of
them of rather a bloody character, to be sure. Exe-
cutions, autos defe^ bullfights, those are the memories
of the Plaza Mayor ; the most interesting, to English
people, of the last named, being the one given in
honour of the royal knight-errant and Prince, Charles
the Fii'st of England when on his romantic journey
in quest of a wife. When the marriage was broken
off, the Spanish Princess said, "If he had loved me
he would never have left me." Very likely she was
right ; for he, with the well-known preference of the
Stuarts for dark beauty, and his head probably full of
ideas of the black eyes and raven locks of Spain,
must have been woefully disappointed when he saw
the vacant Flemish face, light, unmeaning eyes, and
fair hair of this, in reality, Austrian princess; the
■^^ very comely lady," so much admired in Spain,

Plaza Mayor. 47

Inhere they do not seem to have disliked the project-
ing under lip inherited from her ancestress, Margaret
Maultasch, Princess of Tyrol. It may well have been
•also that he, a Protestant, did not much care about
having Philip the Fourth for a brother-in-law ; nor
can one see how Philip could have consented to
give his sister to a heretic, whom, indeed, it
iFould have been much more agreeable and meri-
torious to have burnt in that very Plaza. This
question of religion was the real obstacle to the
match ; but Charles, who, a true Stuart, had no great
liking for the trammels of kingly etiquette, must
have been fearfully bored with the dull regulations of
ihe Spanish Court. It is related that when he wished
to talk French with the Queen, sister-in-law of the
young princess he had come to woo (and sister, by the
way, of his future wife), she said she would ask per-
mission to do so, otherwise it was contrary to rule !
And afterwards he was warned that if he persisted in
speaking to the Queen, his life would not be safe !
IsTo wonder he preferred marrying the beautiful and
accomplished Henrietta Maria.

This Plaza Mayor strongly resembles the old Place
Eoyale in Paris, of the time of Henri Quatre ; having
been built in 1619, probably under the influence of
Queen Isabel, Henry's daughter.

48 A Summer in Spain.

Everywhere in Madrid, even in the most modern
parts, one sees Spanish costume ; it being by no
means true that French flishions are universally
adopted. Black is certainly no longer necessarily
worn, except in Lent, or early in the morning, to go
to church ; but the veil is commoner than the bonnet
for all ranks. Young ladies sometimes wear fashion-
able hats ; but more among the boui'gooisie than
the upper classes. The veil is almost universally
worn by old ladies ; by very old ones, the ancient
mantilla, which is no longer in use among the
younger women. Generally speaking, it is con-
sidered in best taste, if on foot, to wear the veil or a
black lace bonnet somewhat resembling it ; in a car-
riage, fashionable and very gay French bonnets are
often seen ; but quite as often the veil with a bright
carnation or a rose in the hair. This we thought
much the prettiest. Foreigners are, however, not
expected to follow the Spanish fashion in Madrid,
except at the theatre, where the black veil is quite
necessary, unless one has a private box.

We were told that, at the time we were in Madrid,
all the old national costume — the veil, the high comb,
and the flower in the hair — had been more adopted
than usual by fashionable people ; and that it was a
protest against the Italian dynasty, so universally

The Prado. 49

detested. Be this as it may, we saw far more of it
in Madrid than we did in Granada, where French
fashions prevailed to a lamentable extent.

In the Prado, even handsome carriages were often
drawn by mules, fine velvet-coated animals. Long-
strings of mules are also constantly seen passing
through the Puerta del Sol and the adjacent streets,
driven by men in the costume of the district to which
they belong, all which gives a much more peculiar
and Spanish character to the town than we had been
led to expect.

We had heard, too, that there were no trees in or
about Madrid. It is not in the midst of a forest,
certainly, like Baden-Baden; but neither is it in a
barren wilderness. It is true that south of Madrid,
after Aranjuez is passed, is a bare and absolutely
treeless plain, which reaches to the frontiers of Anda-
lusia, so that to those arriving from the south, espe-
cially from Granada, it must have rather a bleak
appearance. But Madrid itself is completely en-
circled, outside the walls, by a sort of boulevard,
shaded by trees ; at many points this boulevard ex-
pands into a net- work of public walks, the Paseo de
la Plorida, Paseo de la Virgen del Puerto, Paseo de
Atocha — all those are shaded by tall trees, which in
May are in the freshest and greenest leaf; so that as

50 A Siumner in Spain.

we approached from the north it seemed quite siu'-
rounded with foliage. Of course, in winter there is
none of this ; but it is not only in Spain that de-
ciduous trees lose their leaves in winter.

The Prado, in May, is very pretty. Again, in
contradiction to most travellers, I must say that it is
green, exceedingly green, with plenty of shade,
many flowers, especially roses, and no dust. In fact,
the Prado, the Puerto del Sol, and the principal
streets, are almost too much watered ; in the Prado,
mud is the evil to be di-eaded, even in the diiest
weather; and the inhabitants say that fever, which
never formerly existed in Madrid, now prevails and
increases, owing to the damp thus produced. We
never saw dust at all within the walls ; outside there
certainly is a good deal, but it generally lay quietly
on the road and did not blow about much.

Another surprising thing was, that there really
was some water in the Manzanares. This was pro-
bably in consequence of April and May having been
unusually rainy.

As to the climate, it is the one di*awback to an
otherwise very pleasant place ; but so fearful is it
that it is an all-sufficient objection to Madrid as a
residence. I use the expression fearful advisedly, as
of a thing really to inspire fear. It is not that it is

Climate. 5 1

very disagreeable — at least, we did not find it so —
but it is exceedingly dangerous. Wliat it is, and
wby it is so, no one knows ; some people say it is
because it is changeable, but during our stay there
was but the one change, from winter to summer,
which took place very suddenly indeed. Before that,
it was steadily cold; afterwards, steadily hot. Others
say it is the difference between sun and shade, but
we did not find that greater than in most parts of
Italy. The air feels pure and clear; there are no
evil odours ; in all the latter half of May and be-
ginning of June there was no wind ; a light might
have been burnt in the street without fiickering : yet
this subtle air, which, as the Spanish proverb truly
says, kills a man and can't put out a candle, is per-
haps the deadliest in Europe. It is not at all de-
pressing though ; very much the contrary : when you
are so ill that you can't move, nor even raise your
head, you feel quite cheerful, and think it an exceed-
ingly nice place. Perhaps this was the reason the
gloomy Spanish sovereigns liked it so much.

With all its disadvantages of climate, we found
Madrid a most agreeable sojourn, owing, in a great
measure, to the very great kindness and courtesy of
those Spanish families to whom we had letters.
Nowhere is society pleasanter than in this little

E 2

52 A Siumner in Spain.

capital. Once properly introduced, there is no stiff-
ness ; all is the frankest cordiality, the kindliest hos-
pitality, and it must be allowed that the Spanish
ladies have a grace and charm quite peculiar.

The houses of the upper classes in Madrid are very
much more comfortable than Italian dwellings gene-
rally are ; in cold or even chilly weather a bright
fire blazes on the hearth, and there is a look of occu-
pation that is quite English. Books in abundance,
drawings, music : I do not think sketching is much
cultivated among them, but the ladies frequently
copy the paintings of the old masters very well
indeed. One lady, whom we knew, had her whole
drawing-room hung round with the copies she had
made, in oil, of the paintings in the Museum.

Almost all spoke English ; most of them extremely
well, often better than they spoke French. In some
families the children's governess had been English, and
English Avays seemed to prevail to a greater extent
than among the Eomans or Florentines. "We were
much surprised when paying a visit a few miles out
of Madrid to be offered a cup of tea. However, I do
not think this was usual, but done solely out of com-
pliment to our insula!" prejudices. When we refused
the tea, wine was next offered, and when that too was
declined, azucarillos (a sort of very light, sugary,

Society. 53

foam-like substance, flavoured with lemon), and de-
liciously cold water appeared instead; a much more
Spanish refection. This was served in the garden
under the shade of tall trees, and surrounded with
roses, the most beautiful of which were gathered for
us in handfuls, while our kind hostess, the Countess
M., repeated, " Take all the prettiest ; take as many
as you like." In the meantime our carriage was sent
away, and we were detained to dine and spend the
evening.

If you admire a flower, it is always given you.
Even when out at dinner the finest roses were pulled
out of the bouquets on the table and given to us ; and
on one occasion the entire bouquets were sent down
and put into the carriage when we were going
away.

It has been said that Spanish civilities are merely
verbal, that it is not intended one should avail one-
self of them. Of course, some are forms of politeness
in the same way as in English one signs oneself
" truly yours " to people one does not care a straw
about, or perhaps even dislikes. For instance, the
Spanish expression, ''This house is your own," is of
this kind ; you do not proceed to act upon it. Also,
when a peasant asks you to share his breakfast of
bread and grapes, or if the conductor of the diligence

54 -^ Su7nvier in Spain,

offers you a piece of raw sausage before he begins to
eat it himself, it is not supposed you will accept it.
In other respects, it is in Spain as elsewhere ; when
people invite you to their house, they expect you to
come, and are sorry if from any cause you cannot ac-
cept their attentions ; and they would be especially
vexed if you refused to eat and drink what is offered
you. This latter is a remnant of Orientalism.

Even without society, however, Madi'id would pos-
sess quite sufficient interest. The great attraction is,
of course, the Picture Gallery. It is not only one of
the finest, but one of the pleasantest in the world ;
never too hot nor too cold while we were there ; ex-
quisitely clean, well lighted, and well arranged, with
most civil officials, who are always ready to give
information, and, moreover, never object to one's
making little sketches of any j^icture, though without
special permission, provided that it is done on a small
book or bit of paper, so as not to take up room or
annoy others. There is also here the great advantage
of plenty of comfortable seats, always placed exactly
where one would wish ; not chairs, but benches, so
that a party may sit together, and not be scattered all
about, as in the otherwise perfect Pitti Gallery at
Florence, where one may often look in vain for
a seat of any kind. The only thing wanting is a

Picture Gallery. 55

good catalogue, which possibly may now be ready, as
one was then, and had been for some time, in pre-
paration. The old one was tolerably correct, but as
only two copies existed, was limited in its useful-
ness ; those were lent by the door-keeper to anybody
whom he thought likely to give him half a franc for
so doing. It did not include all the pictures in the
collection, and one of the copies had lost a good
many of its leaves ; still, it did pretty well, and the
officials generally could supply the deficient informa-
tion.

The first visit to the gallery is indeed a thing to
be remembered, ranking with the first time one sees
the Vatican, the Pitti, or the Louvre. In one re-
spect, it is superior to any collection in the world j
namely, in portraits. Velasquez is the king of
portrait-painters : none excel and few equal him ; not
Vandyke, not Eubens, scarcely even Titian himself.
In equestrian portraits especially, he is quite un-
approachable ; and it is only in Madrid that he can
be properly appreciated. Our favourite of all was
the portrait of little Prince Balthasar Carlos on his
Guadarrama pony. In this wonderful picture, you
can see the wind, and the rapid motion of the little
Steed, while the child's scarf flies out in the air, as
he seems to dash away with a tiny gesture of right

56 A Smmner hi Spain.

royal command, well befitting the son of the best
horseman in Spain, as Pliilip the Fourth was said
to be. The landscape is a sketch from nature of
the Guadarrama, behind the Escorial ; and its cold
blues and greens contrast admirably with the rich,
dark, warm brown of the pony, and the fair face of
the child. Poor little fellow ! he died of smallpox
in early youth.

On showing a photograph of this picture to one
of the oldest and most eminent of the Eoman
portrait-painters, he gazed at it in silence for a while,
with his aged countenance positively radiant, then
exclaimed, flinging his arms into the air, "Away he
goes!" And really, as Mui-ray well remarks, he
seems to be galloping out of the frame.

In another admirable picture, the same boy is
standing, with a gun in his hand, under a tree ; the
Guadarrama landscape behind, a splendid large dog
at his feet, and another, that we used to call "the
half-dog," with only its sharp nose and stiff fore
paws appearing at the edge of the canvas.

But the dogs of Velasquez are many and beautiful ;
finest of all, perhaps, the great, powerful, good-
natured creature, who is allowing the dwarfs to tease
him in ' Las Meninas,' and who looks so very
much more intellectual than either the dwarfs or the

Picture Gallery. 57

Infanta. That of the Archduke Ferdinand is also
charming.

Of the series of likenesses of Philip the Fourth
himself, it is nearly superfluous to speak, so well are
they known. First, one sees him young and almost
handsome, with his calm, rather aristocratic bearing':
if only he could have looked a little brighter ; but
that was the diflBculty. In middle life, he looks cold,
and much more vacant. Then the face grew colder and
colder, and duller and duller to the last. The finest of
all his portraits is the world-famous equestrian one.
That of Queen Isabel, his first wife (the lady who
was not allowed to speak French with our Charles
the Fii'st), is very beautiful.

Two other fine pictures, by Velasquez, are the
Surrender of Breda, and Olivares on horseback.
Those are the kind of subjects in which he most
excelled ; the representation of all that is brave and
gallant, and royal and courtly. His religious pictures
are generally less satisfactory ; always excepting the
wondrous crucifixion, so grand in its mysterious dark-
ness and hidden face.

From Velasquez one passes naturally to Murillo.
He too must be studied in Madrid, or, at least in
Spain, to be really understood. Elsewhere, one
thinks of him chiefly as the very clever and realistic

5 8 A Swmner in Spain.

painter of exceedingly dirty beggar boys, employed,
at the best, in eating melons. With the exception
of the two splendid pictures in the Louvre, even his
Madonnas, out of Spain, are of the earth earthy;
she is usually but a dark-eyed peasant woman, with a
very fine baby on her lap. But here, I felt as if I
had for the first time seen his works. Never did I
look upon so ethereally, spiritually lovely a face as
one of those in this gallery ; those liquid, child-like
€yes haunt one with their strange, rapt expression.
It is a picture that one places in one's memory beside
the Madonna di San Sisto and the Madonna della Seg-
giola ; yet it is very difi'erent from both. In the
Dresden picture, the Virgin still wears the memory of
unfathomable sorrow ; in that of Florence, she is the
sweet, happy, human mother of a Divine Eabe : while
in this of Murillo, she is the wondering child-woman,
scarcely understanding what is in store for her. She
does indeed look not merely pure and innocent, as
Eaphael and Perugino have so often depicted her,
but absolutely and wholly sinless, as the Spaniards
have always said she was.

Another exquisite picture by Murillo, is the Infant
Saviour, giving the little St. John water to drink out
of a shell, with the lamb looking up with a most
touching expression of love and reverence. Surely

Picture Gallery. 59

Murillo painted lambs as never any other artist did !
They are as superior to those in the paintings of the
Italian school, as the veritable Spanish sheep is to
the long-legged, long-nosed, drooping-eared animal
whose type may be seen at the present day anywhere
between Lombardy and Eome. The perfection of the
model may, in a great measure, account for the
wonderful beauty of Murillo's lambs; yet he gives
them an absolutely human and intelligent look, to
which even the Spanish sheep does not attain.

Of other Spanish artists the paintings of Juan de
Juanes pleased us most. He has been called the
Eaphael of Spain; and, in truth, his style combines
much both of the Florentine and Venetian schools.
The drawing is Florentine ; the colouring, Venetian :
but the composition, the grouping, remind one more
of Albert Diirer and the Van Eycks. Two of
Juanes' pictures we especially admired ; the Ecce
Homo and the Christ bearing his Cross.

There are plenty of terrible Spagnolettos, but the
only one I should care to see again is Jacob's Ladder.
Jacob is but a Spanish peasant, and a very ugly one
too ; the same coarse, brutal face that served as a
model for many of Spagnoletto's saints : yet there is
something about it that rivets the eye ; and the ex-
pression of sleep and weariness is perfect.

So A Summer in Spain.

There are also some of Zurbaran's white-robed Car-
thusians, painted as he, and he only, could ; his
masterpieces, however, are not here, but at Seville.

"We admired Coello's portrait of Isabella, Philip the
Second's favourite child ; she is very beautiful and
graceful, with an expression of much intellect and
refinement. The rich and most becoming costume is
admirably painted. The portrait of her half-brother,
Don Carlos, by the same artist is also interesting.

So completely were we occupied with the Spanish
school, that we almost forgot to look for the Eaphaels,
till, at the further end of the circular saloon, we saw
an Enthroned Madonna, with the calm, sweet face
and simple majesty, so unmistakably Italian. There
was no need to look in the catalogue : it was one
of Eaphaol's masterpieces, the Madonna del Pesce;
so called from the fish that Tobias holds in his hand.
Critics have said that this picture is too yellow in
colour ; to me it seemed all bathed in a golden glory,
and quite faultless.

Then we went in search of the " Pearl ;" and when
we found it, were wofully disappointed. The
photographs and engravings of this pictui'e are
very beautiful, because of the fine composition
and correct drawing ; but alas ! for the colour.
It has been so sadly over-cleaned and re-painted

Picture Gallery. 6r

by bungling hands that I am sure Eaphael would
be greatly astonished and not at all pleased, could
he rise from the dead and look at it. The shadows
are black, and the light spotty, and all harmony
is destroyed. We were at first rather disappointed
also in the "Spasimo;" it has often been compared
with the Transfiguration, and is in the same style,
and with the same fault of want of concentration
of the light. It has, moreover, too many figures
for the size of the picture, which causes a tendency
to confusion and spottiness. It seemed to us that
it also had been over-cleaned and re-painted.
Yet on a second view one finds out its beauties;
the figure of the Christ is very fine.

From Eaphael we turned next to Titian. What
a splendid array is here ! First, the magnificent
equestrian portrait of Charles the Fifth ; and another,
that pleased us quite as much, where the Emperor
stands with his favourite dog beside him. Ko wonder
the dog was a favourite ; he deserved it, if there
be truth in physiognomy ; and he looks up at Charles
with an expression of absolute worship. The portrait
of Isabella, wife of Charles, is admirably painted;
but she was less beautiful than I expected; she
looked careworn and formal. There is another
picture in the Museum at Augsburg, purporting

62 A Summer in Spain.

to be also the wife of Charles, and representing a
yoianger and far lovelier face; but the style of
dress is, I think, either of a different date or a different
country.

Then come the series of portraits of Philip the
Second; even more striking in their chronological
debasement than those of Philip the Fourth, inas-
much as the earlier Philip began better and ended
worse than the later. First, the handsome face,
somewhat like his intellectual and gifted father,
and yet more resembling his timid, scrupulous, nun-
like mother, who always intended, when her children
should be grown up, to leave her husband and end
her days in a cloister. You scarcely observe that
the under jaw is weak and heavy, the under lip
projecting ; there is no coldness in the dark eyes :
the cruelty has not yet come to the sm-face. In the
next it has ; but there is some strength and majesty
still struggling out of the gloom. And so on till the
last (not, however, by Titian), which is positively
awful to look on. Yet Philip is much admired by
the Spaniards, who call him Philip the Just. When
poor Prince Amadous first arrived in Madi'id, they
said, " He might perhaps do ; he had a look of
Philip the Second."

There are some very fine specimens of Paul Yero-

Picture Gallery. 63'

nese. Of these, we thought Cain the finest. It is
perfectly magnificent ; even the landscape seems full
of remorse and despair. The allegorical picture of
Virtue and Yice, too, is splendid.

It is impossible to name all the fine pictures in
this superb gallery. One more, however, must be
mentioned as being peculiarly interesting to English
people, the portrait of Mary Tudor, Queen of Eng-
land, whom we call Bloody Mary, while the Spaniards,
taking a difi'erent view of the case, call her " Maria
la Santa," " Mary the Saint." It is wonderfully well
painted, and wonderfully sour in expression, probably
true to nature. Some authors have, of late years,
laboured to prove that when young, Mary was hand-
some and sweet-looking. Certainly, if she ever did
possess good looks and a pleasant expression, both had
totally disappeared before this picture was painted ; so
much so, that one's chief feeling is compassion for
Philip having such an unamiable-looking wife. This
portrait was sent over to Spain before the marriage ;
I should have thought it quite sufficient to put a stop
to it.

In the long room is a case of cinquecento jewellery,
containing, among others, specimens of Benvenuto
Cellini's work; in particular a mermaid with two
green tails, said to be of emerald. There are also

64 A Sum?ner in Spain.

some caskets studded with exceedingly fine engraved
gems. I do not think those are by Benvenuto Cel-
lini, not being in his style of workmanship, but we
could get no information respecting them.

Downstairs are some statues, none of them very
remarkable. In the middle is a most exquisite
pietra-dura table, given by Pope Pius the Fifth to
Don John of Austria, after Lepanto. Some stones in
it resemble the kind found four or five years ago
among the excavations at the Marmorata in Eome,
and supposed by some learned men to be the rare and
celebrated myrrha. There are also in this table some
particularly fine cornelians.

Yery often did we visit this delightful gallery, and
many hours did we spend in it. The last time was
like bidding good-bye to a friend, while we thought^
*' Shall we ever look upon it again ? "

OHAPTEE IV.

Academy of San Fernando — Palace op the Duke op Alva —
Plaza de Obiente — Eotal Stables and Coach-houses —
Unpopulaeity of King Amadeus — St. Antonio de la
Florida — Atocha — Bull-fights — Fete Dieu.

Except in the Museum there are not many pictures
to see in Madrid; the private galleries being all shut
up, sent away, or dispersed, owing to the troubles
of the times. In the Academy of San Fernando are
three pictures by Murillo. The most remarkable
of those is the celebrated one of St. Elizabeth of
Hungary (here called St. Isabel) washing the head of
a beggar-boy. This, though one of Murillo's finest
works, is by no means one of his most agreeable ; the
sore on the boy's head is too unpleasantly natural;
yet it is a wonderful picture. One goes back and
back to it, and can scarcely leave what when first

66 A Summer in Spain.

looked at sent one away in a shudder of disgust.
The colouring is so splendid as to throw a golden
light even on the sores and scabs, and, finally, it is
the sweet holy face of the gentle queen that eclipses
all else. She is not represented in regal beauty, as I
have seen her in other pictures; nun-like, with her
black dress and white coif, and kind, pale face, she
bends over the wretched, filthy boy, who is really too
filthy, too wi^etched : he is quite brutal, he does not
even seem grateful, and the old woman has a greedy,,
grovelling look that rather detracts from the interests
You feel that St. Elizabeth is quite throwing her
charitable deeds away. I suppose the idea is that
nobody was too degraded for her kindness. This
picture was painted for the hospital of the Caridad, in
Seville, where it was singularly appropriate, and must
have appeared to more advantage.

The other two Murillos represent the legend rela-
ting to the church of St. Maria Maggiore, in Eome.
The first of these is the Dream of the Eoman Senator ;
asleep in his easy-chair, and dressed like a Spanish
hidalgo, he sees in a vision the Virgin Mary, who
points to the miraculous snowfall said to have once
taken place in the month of August on the Esquiline,
about the middle of the fourth century. The other,
less interesting, is his interview with Pope Liberius,

Palace of the Duke of Alva. 67

in which the foundation of the church on the very
spot thus indicated is determined on.

The most beautiful private house we saw in Madiid
was the palace of the Duke of Alva. It is not generally-
shown to strangers, but the ever-kind and considerate
Countess M. (mother-in-law of the Duke) thought
that we might like to see a fine portrait of Mary,
Queen of Scots, which had belonged to Prince Charles
Edward Stuart, and had been presented by the Duchess
of Albany to the present Duke of Alva's ancestor, he
being also a Stuart. In this portrait Mary is sad
and faded, scarcely beautiful, but sweet and queen-
like. There are several other family portraits of both
Stuarts and Alvas, but the gem of all is Titian's of him
whom we in England term the ferocious Duke, while
in Spain he is called the Great. It is magnificent ; one
of Titian's very finest works, and certainly the expres-
sion is not ferocious, nor cruel, nor bad in any way.
He looks a rather proud and very polite Spanish
grandee, extremely handsome and dignified, with a
long narrow face and tall slight figure. The firmly-
closed mouth is the only feature that recalls his
character, and yet, though firm, it is not hard, nor
even stem. Either his physiognomy belies him, or
his cruelties have been exaggerated by unfriendly
historians, which is indeed extremely probable.

68 A Summer in Spain.

Even without the interesting portraits the house-
would be worth seeing, on account of the exquisite taste
of its internal decorations. Outside there is nothing
remarkable, except that it is prettily situated in the
midst of a large garden and surrounded by trees ^
but inside it is very beautiful. One room in par-
ticular is fitted up in imitation of the Alhambra with
Moorish stucco work, gilt and painted in rich red
and blue ; a fountain is in the middle, and Oriental
divans round the sides. The day was hot, and the
coolness and soft light delicious. Those splendid
apartments have not been much used since the death
of the Duchess, yet they still had a look of occupa-
tion, with plenty of books lying about.

This taste for Moorish decoration seems to prevail
a good deal in Madrid, and certainly nothing can be
more adapted for comfort in a hot climate. At
the Countess M.'s the greenhouse was in Moorish
style, its delicate tracery combining beautifully with
the green leaves and bright flowers ; in the evening
it was lighted with lamps, and cofiee was served
there.

Owing to the disturbed state of affairs while we
were in Madi-id, it was impossible to obtain permission
to see the Eoyal Palace. Not that they ever refused it;,
on the contrary, hopes were always held out that next

Plaza de Oriente. 69

•day at the same hour, or that day at a different one,
we should get in. The fact was, that nobody ever
knew at what hour the King and Queen would go out
to drive or ride ; it was probably concealed purposely,
for fear of assassination ; and, of course, visitors could
not be admitted till the royal family went out. After
all, I believe we did not lose much ; most of the
pictures being now in the Museum. The palace itself
is a magnificent building, dazzlingly white against the
brilliant blue sky. The situation is not at all dreary ;
at least, certainly not in the month of May. It looked
quite bright, seen through the fresh green trees of the
Plaza de Oriente, and backed by the turquoise blue
and crowning snow of the Guadarrama.

In the Plaza de Oriente, in the midst of its flowers
and leaves, is the celebrated equestrian statue of
Philip the Fourth, said to be one of the finest in the
world. It has been well called a Velasquez in bronze.
The horse is rearing so high that a real living horse
would have difficulty in keeping its balance, and not
falling backwards on its rider ; yet it looks quite easy
and natural, and you feel sure that the rider has perfect
command over his prancing steed. Galileo suggested
the means of preserving the balance ; but I did not
find anybody who could explain it satisfactorily.

In the Plaza Mayor, there is an equestrian statue

70 A Sum?ner in Spain.

of Philip the Third, also very good, though not equal
to that of his son and successor. I do not think there
are any other statues in Madrid which deserve mention,
except that of Cervantes, in the Plaza de las Cortes.

The artist, a native of Barcelona, has contrived the
drapery so as to hide the want of the arm lost at
Lepanto. This is a pity, and not at all as Cervantes
would have wished.

The Spaniards do not seem to have possessed, or at
least practised, the art of casting in bronze. This
statue of Cervantes was cast by a Prussian ; that of
Philip the Fourth by Pietro Tacca, in Florence ; while
Philip the Third had the honour, scarcely deserved as
far as the character of the monarch was concerned,
of being cast by no less a person than John of Bologna
himself.

Though we were not shown the interior of the
palace, no objection was made to our seeing the Eoyal
Stables and Coach-houses. They are very extensive,
and beautifully kept ; the horses many of them very
fine. The mules, however, interested us most ; an
exceedingly fine mule being, to us northerns, a much
rarer quadruped. And wonderfully fine they were ;
until one has seen a Spanish mule, one has no idea to
what perfection the creature may be brought. Glossy
they were not, but looked as if their skins were made

Royal Stables and Coach-houses. yi

of black velvet, and their size was astonishing. I do
not think they were all very amiable, however ; we
were always carefully warned as to which were likely
to kick us, and which were not; and the former
greatly predominated. There were also two tiny
mules like toys, which the young Prince of the
Asturias, Queen Isabella's son, used to drive. It
must have been a charming turn-out; the little
animals were not bigger than Newfoundland dogs.
Perhaps they stood a little higher ; but I don't think
"they were so long as some Newfoundlands I have
seen. The carriages were innumerable and various.
I felt as though we were walking through miles of
gilt and painted coaches, nodding ostrich-plumes,
and gorgeous hammer-cloths. There was the corona-
tion coach ; the coach that went to Atocha on solemn
occasions, the one that went there on lesser festivals,
and the one that went when there was no festival at
all. There also were the plain carriages of King
Amadeus and of his Queen, dark blue, sparingly
decorated with silver. The Spaniards looked scorn-
fully at those, saying, "He does not think our carriages
good enough for him; he has brought his own."
This was quite true, and was one of the many mistakes
made by the well-meaning couple who had taken
upon themselves to rule a country with whose tastes

72 A Summer in Spain.

and prejudices they were, to say the least, imperfectly
acquainted. The Spaniards, naturally, resented this
ignorance, saying, "Why has he come to govern us,
when he knows nothing about us, not even our
language ? "

And so it really appears to have been ; the history,
language, literature, tastes, prejudices, peculiarities of
the Spaniards were completely ignored. They were
at once pronounced "barbarous," "half-civilized,"
and were to be improved in season and out of season,
chiefly the latter. Even granted that the young King
was right, and that all Italian ways are better than
any Spanish ones, no nation likes to be treated as
inferior to its ruler, especially when that ruler is a
foreigner; and the Spaniards, of all people, are un-
suited to relish it. It was unfortunate that the King
always said he meant to devote his life and energies
to improving Spain; Spain did not wish to be im-
proved, thinking herself already equal to any nation,
and superior to Italy.

The Italians have, unluckily, a theory that the
Spaniards are like them, but " less civilized." l^ow,
never were two nations so unlike, nor so unsuited to
get on well together. In everything, in faults and
virtues, talents and defects, tastes and prejudices, they
are exactly the opposite of each other, and totally in-

Unpopularity of King Amadeus. 73

•capable of even understanding what each, other would
be at. The consequence is, that the Italian looks
upon the Spaniard with conceited contempt, while the
Spaniard regards the Italian with scorn and detesta-
tion. He calls Italian gentleness deceit; the simple
tastes of the House of Savoy, so deservedly popular
in their own country, he considers meanness, while
economy is invariably stigmatized as parsimony. In
Spain, even ordinary travellers who have every wish
to be economical, must not bargain as they would in
Italy; so the horror of the Spaniards maybe imagined,
when the new Queen asked the price of everything
I)efore she would buy it. When the King rode tlirough
the Puerta del Sol, attended by only one groom, even
the excellent horsemanship, to which they did every
justice, could not save him from scornful looks, and
exclamations of "Que clase de rey ! " "What kind of
king is that !" The upper classes, of course, were too
courteous to make such observations ; if they met the
King or Queen they bowed, for, as they said, "It would
be impolite to do otherwise." But, I think, they
rather avoided coming in contact with them. One
lady of high rank said, " The Queen is a good woman,
I esteem her, but we do not meet — I never see her."
Others said, " She was clever, and had learnt to speak
Spanish very well; but she wanted refinement and

74 A Summer in Spain.

grace of manner." Indeed, they did not scruple to
say plainly that they considered her " vulgar." The
men generally rather admired the King's appearance ;
said he rode splendidly, and spoke French beautifully;
hut that in other respects he was an "inferior man,"
and they were disappointed in him. The end of it
always was, "I wish he would go away, and take all
his things with him."

The language, of course, was a chief stumbling-
block. It must be allowed that the Spaniards are
a little unreasonable about their language. They
expect everybody, who has been three weeks in Spain,
to speak it fluently, and pronounce it perfectly. Now,
fortunately, it is very easy; probably much the easiest
of European tongues ; so that almost anybody of ave-
rage abilities, who really wishes and tries to learn it,
can do so in a month or six weeks, spent in the
country and among the natives. But whether it was
that King Amadeus did not see the necessity of taking
pains, certain it is that he never could express himself
correctly and fluently in Castilian ; and this was un-
pardonable in Spanish estimation, as implying either
want of capacity or want of will. The Spaniards
themselves say that no Italian can ever speak Spanish
well. At first I thought this must be prejudice, the
two languages being so exceedingly similar. But I

Unpopularity of King Amadeus. 75

soon perceived that this very resemblance constituted
a dijfficulty, inasmuch as one may fancy one is talking
good Spanish while sliding insensibly into Italian ; a
most undesirable result in Spain, where "Italian" is
a term of reproach. If you refuse to give money to a
beggar-boy, he will, in all probability, execute a war-
dance round you, in which his friends and com-
panions join, singing "Italians! Italians! Strangers!
Strangers!" Consequently, it is quite a serious matter
to use an Italian word by mistake for a Spanish one,
or to speak Spanish with an Italian accent. Even
Castilian politeness can hardly stand that.

Unluckily, too, one of the first and most important
words the poor young King had to say publicly,
happened to be perhaps the most difficult of all,
"Juro," "I swear," with its rough guttural, being
considered a crucial test of pronunciation.

Practical people will naturally exclaim that all
these things are trifles ; and certainly each grievance
by itself seemed comically small. Yet the sum of the
whole amounted to a good deal, especially as all those
proofs of awkwardness and want of tact were looked
upon as a deliberate wish to mortify Spain and magnify
Italy.

The Spaniards, as is well known, are proud of their
history ; and, that being the case, it really must have

76 A Summer i?i Spam*

been provoking to find that their young sovereign's
compatriots knew and cared nothing whatever about
the past glories of Spain. The Italians, even in their
own home, have only too much contempt for all that
belongs to the Middle Ages ; and they were not likely
to be more tolerant to mediaeval ways and prejudices
in a country which they regarded as being peopled
with savages : somewhat as we might ISTew Zealand,
in fact ; only with much less knowledge of the subject
than the English usually possess concerning the Anti-
podes. The Spaniards, on their parts, are apt to for-
get (if indeed the idea has ever fairly gained admit-
tance to their minds) that Spain is no longer the
greatest Power in Europe, as she was in the years
that succeeded the Conquest of Granada, and the dis-
covery of the wondrous "Western World. She lives in
the Past ; and, in truth, we felt inclined to do so too,
as we turned away from those bones of contention, the
state-carriages, and entered the armoury.

All there was calm and grand; with the stately
suits of armour, each with a history more romantic
than any fiction, ranged solemnly around. There was
the armour of Alouso Guzman, '' el Bueno," or " the
Good;" which, indeed, the name Guzman already
signifies, being Godman, that is, Goodman, in the
original IN'orse. For Guzman el Bueno (a near relation

A?icient Armour. 77

of St. Dominic, by the bye) was of no southern race ;
his ancestors came from the far north, from the island
whose bold outline, dark purple against the sunset,
closes the port of Aalesund, in [N'orway. A long
way, in truth, from the wild Scandinavian coast to
the sunny shores of Tarifa, where Guzman's glorious
deeds were done. But, to be sure, there was the
stepping-stone of fair Normandy for some centuries
between the barren haunt of the sea-bird and the rich
heritage of the Moor. This Alonso Guzman, when
besieged by the Moors in Tarifa, was threatened, if
he did not surrender, with the death of his eldest son,
a boy of nine years old, who had been treacherously
given up to the enemy. Alonso refused, and the boy
was killed. On hearing the cry of horror on the
battlements, Alonso rushed out to inquire what had
happened. When told, he said quietly, '^ I feared
the infidel had gained the city." He was indeed a
brave descendant of the Vikings, of Ganger Eolf, and
of the Dukes of IS^ormandy.

There too is the armour of the ''Gran Capitan,"
Gonsalvo de Cordoba ; that of poor Don Carlos,
Philip the Second's unhaj)py son; that of the
heroic and equally unfortunate Juan de Padilla,
leader of the Comuneros, who was defeated and
executed in 1520; that of Fernan Cortes; of

78 A Simimer in Spain.

Columbus ; and of Don John of Austria, worn at
Lepanto.

"We looked in vain for the Cid's shirt of mail. I
suspect it was hid, for fear of being carried off or
injured in those troublous times. But the Cid's
sword is there ; a plain weapon, with twisted handle.
Ill-naturedly accurate people are fond of suggesting
that this sword is not the veritable weapon of the
Campeador of Spain ; but there seems no reason why
it should not be, and it is pleasant to believe in
things when they are not manifestly absurd. They
also point out the weapon of Pelayo, sovereign of the
Christians of Spain in the eighth century. Though
called King of Leon, he did not possess the city, and
only a small portion of the territory ; his dominions,
at his accession, being but twenty-five miles long,
and twelve miles broad. He wielded his good
blade with such success that, at his death, his
kingdom had increased to a hundred miles in
length. All else was under Moslem sway, and
obeyed the Caliph of Damascus. In this instance,
even if the sword be apocryphal, the historical facts
regarding the hero are true. Bernardo del Carpio's
sword is doubtful ; and that of Orlando still more so.
But there is quite enough of authentic romance con-
nected with the weapons here displayed, without

Aficieni Armour. 79

insisting on the truth of all the wild and wonderful
legends of Spanish story. Here is the sword of St.
Ferdinand, conqueror of Seville, and that of Garcilaso
de la Vega, poet and soldier ; that of Isabel la Catolica,
and that of Pizarro; besides Toledan blades in-
numerable, some of the finest having belonged to
Charles the Fifth, Philip the Second, and Don John
of Austria. There is also a sword of Boabdil's.

Among the helmets is that of James the Conqueror,
King of Aragon, the hero-sovereign, whose bones lie
at Poblet, near Tarragona, in the once magnificent
but now ruined convent where he wished to end his
days. Boabdil's helmet, too, is here, of a very
curious and exceedingly ugly shape.

One of the suits of armour is said by the guide-
books to be unmistakably that of a German elector,
being " web-footed and short-legged." Short-legged
some of the German electors may have been, though
others, including, for instance, Augustus of Saxony,
were tall; but they surely are not invariably, nor
even frequently, web- footed.

The most curious things in the whole collection are
the crowns of the Gothic Kings, found at Guarrazar,
in the mountains of Toledo. They are of gold, with
pendants of pale sapphires. From the largest of
those diadems hangs a cross, in the same style. This

8o A Sum?ner in Spain,

crown has au inscription wliich, though incomplete^
may be read thus : — " Svinthilanus Eex offeret."
This Svinthilanus, or Suintila, was the twenty-third of
the Yisigothic monarchs of Spain ; and in his time
the Greeks of Constantinople were finally expelled
from tlie Peninsula. He reigned from a.d. 621 till
631, being thus a contemporary of Mahomet. We
saw also a smaller diadem of similar workmanshiiD,
purporting to be the '' Crown of the Abbot Theo-
dosius." Another gold and sapphire cross bears an
inscription stating that it was " offered by Bishop
Lucetius." There were several fragments of smaller
golden crowns, some with, some without, the sapphire
pendants ; but I could learn nothing more about them ;
probably, however, they were all votive offerings.

These objects were found soon after those of the same
kind, also from Guarrazar, now in the Hotel Cluny, in
Paris. Those latter were sold privately to the Prench
government before Queen Isabella heard that they
had been dug up. She accordingly ordered further
excavations to be made at Guarrazar ; and at last
they found a tinaja, or large jar, containing all the
Yisigothic jewels now in the Madrid armoury. The
crown in the Hotel Cluny is supposed to be that of
Becesuintho, the immediate predecessor of ''the good
King Wamba," as he is generally called. Recesu-

SL Antonio de la Florida. 8i

intho reigned from 650 to 672, and was one of the
most prosperous of the Gothic sovereigns of Spain.

We should have liked to pay a second visit to this
most interesting armoury, which indeed deserves
more time than we could well give ; also, we wished
much to see the Archaeological Museum, recently
arranged.

But by this time the deadly climate was beginning
to make itself felt, and we saw that we must leave
Madrid before we were quite incapacitated by illness.
"We spent one day walking and sitting in the quiet,
shady gardens of Buen Eetiro, as H. said, " just to
try our strength." I don't know that the trial did
much good, but it ended in our deciding to make an
excursion to Toledo and Aranjuez before the weather
got hotter.

The last days were occupied with some odds and
ends of sight-seeing that, being either inconvenient or
less interesting, had been put off from time to time.
"We went to St. Antonio de la Florida, a little church
outside the northern gate, in an avenue of tall, shady
trees. It contains some of Goya's best frescoes, and
they are really very well worth seeing. The little
dome is painted to represent a balcony, and saints and
angels seem bending over the balustrade. The figures
are very graceful, and the colouring brilliant ; not at

82 A Summer in Spain.

all in Goya's usual wild, almost grotesque manner :
but the style is more gay and bright than devotional.
"We did not go to the other churches of Madrid ; most
of them are modern or modernised, and said to be
nowise remarkable for good taste. Nor did the history
and legends connected mth them attract us, as we
felt no peculiar interest in St. Isidro, for instance, the
peasant-saint — a great favourite in Madrid. He is
much more highly esteemed than the really great
and learned St. Isidore of Seville, the '' Egregious
Doctor," as he was called in the Middle Ages ; while,
as to St. Isidoro of Cordoba, he and his biblical
commentaries have been forgotten long ago. But the
memory of St. Isidro, the ploughman, still flourishes,
and great respect is paid to him. "We happened to
enter Madrid the day after his /c'/c, and, consequently,
the trains that we mot were crammed full of peasants
and artisans who had gone there to do him honour,
the majority of whom, unfortunately, had testified
their devotion by drinking a great deal more wine
than was good for them. To do them justice, how-
ever, they were in perfectly good humour, but their
merriment was overpowering ; they sang and shrieked,
and always offered to shake hands with the travellers
in the trains that passed them ; and we were very glad
that none of them were our fellow-passengers. All

Atocha. Z"^

this, perhaps, rather prejudiced us against St. Isidro,
though it certainly was unreasonable to blame the
saint for the too great jollity of his worshippers.

One church it was really necessary to see — the
irorld-famous Atocha, and accordingly we went there
from St. Antonio, following the line of the boulevard
outside the town. We passed the tobacco manu-
factory, where a tremendous uproar was going on.
Some machinery had been introduced, at which the
women and girls employed were so enraged that they
smashed it all to pieces, and threw the bits out of the
windows. They were occupied most energetically
with their work of destruction; and we saw the
fragments of the machinery flung out with wild yells
and laughter. Of course, nobody interfered ; indeed,
who was there to do so ? I don't think there were
any police when we were in Madrid, and as to the
soldiers, they were not to be depended upon ; they
would probably have fraternised with the mob. On
remarking to a Spaniard that riots like this would not
be tolerated in England, the reply was, " Here we are
more free." Such are the Spanish notions of liberty.

"We did not feel inclined to linger at the tobacco
riot, and proceeded to the far-famed Atocha. Of all
the many desolate churches of Spain, this is the most
utterly forlorn. IS'ot that it is dilapidated ; it has not

G 2

84 A Summer in Spain.

the picturcsqueness of a ruin ; and, indeed, even ruin
could not make it otherwise than hideous. The
entrance is grass-gro\\Ti, but flowerless ; the very
weeds looked coarse and dingy. "Within, it was in
good enough repair, but gaudy and tawdiy, without
architectural beauty, or, indeed, beauty of any kind.
Most of the valuable jewels had been taken away. I
suppose they were concealed for fear of the mob — a
very prudent precaution in those times ; but there
was still a good deal of silver and gold brocade, and
some lace about the altars and images. I looked for
some time in vain for the celebrated Virgin ; I looked
up and I looked down, and began to think that it, too,
had been stowed away somewhere. I knew it ought
to be above the high altar, before which I was
standing, but still it remained obstinately hidden.
I now supposed there was a screen or curtain before
it, and applied to the sacristan. " Is"o, it was never
covered ; does your worship not see it up there ? " I
began at last to fear he would think that my heretic
eyes were unworthy to behold this treasure ; but he
only lamented the want, not of the true faith, but of
an opera-glass. Making a desperate effort, he ex-
claimed piteously, " Does your worship not see a bro-
caded silver robe?" Yes ; the brocaded silver robe I
did see. '^And the jewelled crown?" Yes, I saw

Atocha. 85

the crown. " Well, then, was not the face of the
most Holy Virgin between the diadem and the robe ?"
It seemed not unlikely that it should be so, and I
strained my eyes to the utmost — this time rewarded
by perceiving a black circular object about the size of
the palm of one's hand, which proved to be the face of
the image. It would be very hideous if it were not
so small ; as it is, it does not offend the eye much.
Artistically speaking, it certainly is the ugliest of the
many ugly black images ascribed to St. Luke ; but
then, being nearly invisible, it does not obtrude itself.
It is very strange that this little fetish should have
such honour paid it, not merely by the ignorant, but
by people of education. I wonder what King
Amadous thought of it when he first saw Atocha;
when Prim was lying there dead, murdered for
having offered him the crown he had come to take.
A sad and ominous reception for the poor young
Italian prince.

It is impossible to visit those shrines of Spain with-
out feeling in what a much more degraded state
religion has been there than has ever been the case in
Italy. Eeally, when gazing at this black idol of
Atocha, it seemed as if there was more difference
between Eome and Spain in this respect than between
Spain and the interior of Africa. ITothing can be

86 A Su7nvier in Spain.

more unfair than to charge the Church of Eome with
either the superstition or the cruelty of the Spanish
Catholics. If superstition was derived from Rome in
the first instance, the scholar has gone far beyond the
master ; and, as to cruelty and intolerance, these are
the dark spots on the otherwise noble Spanish
character. The Inquisition was a pm-ely Spanish
institution, never so powerful nor so terrible in Italy
as in its native country. In Venice it was never
admitted at all ; and even in Eome its proceedings
were comparatively mild. In the Middle Ages it was
not uncommon for the persecuted Jews to take refuge
in Eome, and sometimes even to be sheltered at
the Vatican ; and there is one instance of a noble
family driven from Spain on suspicion of heresy, and
welcomed with honours by the Pope.

Even yet, intolerance is very general among the
Spaniards. Some, who have no religion at all, never
go to church, and wholly detest their own priests,
dislike the Protestants quite as much, and revile them
as " wretches who don't believe in the Yirgin and
saints."

The higher classes are too polite to express in-
tolerance, even if they feel it ; but they are very ortho-
dox and strenuous Eoman Catholics, whose chief
objection to King Amadeus was, that he was '' the

Peculiarity of Character. 87

son of an excommunicated man, who had robbed the
Pope of his dominions." The lower classes are ex-
ceedingly superstitious, especially the women. Among
the middle classes, the men appeared to me very
frequently to have no belief in anything, except in
the everlasting perdition of all Protestants.

Their irreverence was something perfectly appalling ;
and their hatred of the priests unbounded. One man,
speaking of a mui'der that had been committed, said
"it was of no consequence ; it was only a priest who
had been killed; and the more of them who were
killed, the better." Yet the next minute, he spoke
with horror of a Spanish Protestant, calling him a Jew^
and a Moor.

This speech was very characteristic, as combining
Spanish indifference to life with true Spanish intole-
rance. Eecklessness of life and of suffering, whether
with regard to human beings or to the lower animals,
is but too common in Spain. It is not exactly cruelty ;
for I don't think even Spanish boys torment merely
for the sake of tormenting ; they are simply perfectly
careless about it : if their amusement or advantage is
served by cruelty, nobody has any scruples on the
subject.

This peculiarity of character explains the otherwise
incomprehensible barbarities of the Inquisition. It

88 A Siim7ner in Spam.

was not that they enjoyed looking at torture, but it
did not give them any pain to see it : they were
resolved to extirpate heresy, and cared little or not at
all by what means they attained theii* end, always
provided it was attained. Even at the present day,
the objections of the Spaniards to the Inquisition are
founded much more on its interference with their
liberty to do whatever they please, good or evil, than
on its cruelty.

In justice to the Spaniards, it must be said that, if
they are indifferent to the life or sufferings of others,
they are very nearly as careless of their own. Person-
ally, they are exceedingly brave; they delight in
fighting for its own sake, without any reference
to the cause they are at the moment supporting.
They do not wish nor expect to be pitied for any
sufferings that may befall them ; even a Spanish child
does not cry nor lament if he is hurt accidentally,
though he bitterly resents a punishment. The contrast
between Spaniards and Italians is very great in this
respect : in Italy, if a child falls and hurts himself, he
sheds floods of tears, and is petted and comforted by
everybody ; in Spain, he is laughed at, and told to
take better care for the future.

No very tender-hearted nation could tolerate,
much less enjoy, the bull-fight. It is frequently said

Bull-Jights. 89-

tliat the English love of sport comes to much the
same thing. It might be so, in some degree, if the
bulls were wild, and hunted as tigers are in India.
But in the arena they have no chance : if they are
gentle, they are hooted at as being cowardly ; if they
are fierce, they are applauded, but tormented and killed
all the same. Even if it were not for the cruelty, the
unfairness would make it painful to see.

The danger to the men, of course, counts for nothing.
It is very seldom that an accident happens : as far as
they are concerned, it is not much more dangerous
than fox-hunting, and quite as safe as riding a steeple-
chase ; and, after all, they need not do it unless they
like. But the slaughter of the horses is dreadful : the
whole time I was in Spain, I had no pleasure in
looking at the beautiful Andalusian steeds; the
horrible bull-ring always rose before my eyes.
Englishmen, when they sell their horses on leaving
Spain, often stipulate that they shall be shot, when
old, rather than sent to bull-fight. Spaniards cannot
understand this feeling ; and when you express com-
passion for the horses, they say, ''Oh! but it was an
old horse, worth nothing."

I was told that if I went often enough to the bull-
fight I should get to like it. I should be sorry to go
through such a disagreeable process in order to attain

90 A Stc?n7ner in Spain.

so undesirable a result. We went once, and stayed
till one bull and three horses were killed, which
occupied about a quarter of an hour. If I could have
got out, I should have come away sooner. Anything
more utterly disgusting and brutal I never beheld,
and hoj3e never to see the like again. The first
entrance of the procession was certainly very pretty,
and the horsemanship wonderful : but the rush of the
bull was less exciting than I expected ; and the clumsy
way in which the poor beast was killed at last, after
repeated failures, was quite distressing. I always
knew I should be sorry for the horses ; but I was
surprised to find how much compassion I felt for the
bull. When he sank on his knees, and looked up
with his great eyes at his butchers, as if wondering
why they tormented him so, I should have liked to
go down into the arena, and wash the blood from his
wounds, and try to save him. The horses I could
hardly look at : one gentle, graceful black Andalusian
started a little, on first entering the arena ; his rider
patted him and spoke to him, and he obeyed like a
dog, arching his neck and looking pleased ; the
animal was evidently accustomed to be caressed : in
five minutes the bull had ripped him up, and the
spectacle was too horrible to look on.

Formerly, when, instead of hired picadors on poor

Fete Dieu. 91

old horses, the Moorish chiefs, and afterwards the
Spanish knights, fought the bull, riding theii- own
good steeds, and of course trying as much as possible
to save them, it must have been very different and
much better. It was always thus, not only in the
days of the Arab domination, but even till compara-
tively recent times.

The people at the bull-fight, though naturally
intensely interested, behaved with great order and
propriety ; much more so than at the Fete Dieu^
which occurred during our stay in Madrid. As
this latter procession was to pass through the Puerta
del Sol, we went out to look at it. It was not
very well worth seeing, being confused and irregu-
lar, with long gaps and breaks, which an exceed-
ingly dirty mob took care to fill up. The priests
were quite as dirty as the people, very ill-dressed,
and many of them suffering from ringworm, which
produced the odd effect of a double or triple ton-
sure. Yery often had we seen the Fete Bieu^ not
only in bright Paris, and grand old Florence, and in
Yienna, where the Emperor and all his Court and his
glittering Hungarian regiments walked in procession ;
but also in the quiet valleys of Styria and Savoy,
among hardworking peasants. But never, in the
poorest country, did I behold anything so squalid and

92 A Simi7)ier in Spain.

forlorn as in this tlie capital of Spain. Perhaps things-
were worse than usual just then, when the country
was in a state of half-suppressed revolution. The
ecclesiastics seemed uncomfortable and exceedingly-
cross ; the high functionaries of State looked sheepish
and rather frightened ; there was no police, nobody to
keep order, which, accordingly, was not kept at all.
A Spanish crowd is always excitable ; and they howled,
and danced, and went on with all sorts of antics ; not
in derision, however, but with the utmost gravity
and sadness. The women were the worst ; they
pushed and struck each other, and shrieked and
swore, and behaved like furies. This was not a
demonstration against the clergy; on the contrary,
they were quite pleased with the procession, and
some of them threw wild lavender before it.

There were pickpockets among the crowd, but pro-
bably not more than in other European capitals. I
saw H.'s fan lying on the ground, and, on picking it
up, she exclaimed lamentably, " I must have a hole
in my pocket ! " And sure enough a hole there was,
of the very largest dimensions, a sharp instrument
having cut open all the lower part of the pocket, and
keys and purse were gone. Luckily, there was not
much money in the purse, but the keys were a serious
loss. On applying to the Greek porter to have the

Fete Dieu. 93

locks forced open, he became so interested in the
novelty of this particular style of pocket-picking as to
be quite unable to attend to our wishes. He looked
admiringly at the devastated pocket, exclaiming,
^' This is quite new ! It has never before been seen
in Madrid ! It is so beautifully done ! No Spaniard
is so clever ! None but an English thief has suf-
ficient skill for this ! " I really think he was sorry
he had not had the merit of the invention him-
self. However, in justice to Spanish honesty, I must
say that though we had to leave the boxes open, at
the mercy of anybody who chose to enter the room,
till the mischief was repaired, nothing was touched.

On the Mte Dieic^ in the afternoon, it is the custom
to walk up and down one particular street, the Calle
de las Carretas, above which an awning is stretched,
as shelter from the sun. No carriages are allowed to
enter, and the street is thronged, The ladies gene-
rally wear white blonde veils on this occasion, and all
have new dresses of the gayest description. We did
not think the white veils so becoming to the dark
Spanish faces as the black : besides which, as the
white veil is very expensive, it is made to last several
years; and, though seldom worn, it gets yellow. I
don't think any of the upper classes were among the
promenaders; they seemed to belong to the hour-

94 A Summer in Spa 171.

geoisie, who are not nearly so handsome as those of
higher birth. They looked hot and tired, which was
not surprising ; this being the first really warm day
we had experienced.

Day by day the sun blazed more fiercely, though
the air was still cool ; and H.s cough remaining
obstinate, we determined to try change of air without
further delay. Accordingly, we started at 7 a.m. on
the brilliant morning of the 10th of June for Toledo.

CHAPTEE Y.

Toledo — Casa de Hdespedes — First Impressions of the
Cathedral — San Juan de los Reyes — St.Marta la Blanca
— El Transito — Jews of Toledo — Old Palace of the
Moorish Kings — A Tagus Eel — Experiences of Sketch-
ing — Pet Animals — Chapels in the Cathedral — Alcazar

— ZOCODOVER — El CrISTO de la LuZ — PUERTA DEL SoL

Hospital of Santa Cruz — Aranjuez.

Strange, dreamy, magnificent, desolate, tawny-
Toledo ! The very most singular of calcined-
looking cities ! For that is at first the principal
thing that strikes you ; it looks like a fragment of
a burnt-up world, of which the cinders are by no
means as yet cool. In and about Toledo there is
no grass, no green thing, except the myrtles in the
cathedral-cloister, the vines and the oleanders in that
of San Juan de los Eeyes, and a few little acacias in

96 A Summer in Spain.

the Plaza. The streets, in any other town equally-
depopulated, would certainly be grass-grown; but
here, there being no grass, the crevices between the
stones are full of a tiny, bright purple flower, which,
in some places, is so plentiful as to shed a bloom over
the pavement, if pavement it may be called. All
else was like ashes from a furnace. Tlie very cliffs
seemed burnt to powder ; and, as we stood on the
edge, looking down into the rushing Tagus, the
stones, or rather hardened dust, on which we stood,
began to crumble and slide away from beneath our
feet. Yet Toledo is a pleasant place; the steep,
narrow streets are clean, and the air fresh and in-
vigorating, though the country round is, on a small
scale, more like the moon seen through a telescope,
than anything we had hitherto met with on our
travels.

The inn being, by all accounts, intolerably filthy,
we had been advised to go to a Casa de Huespedes,
as it is called. These Casas de Huespedes are private
lodgings, which in Spain can be had almost every-
where, and are quieter and frequently cleaner than
the inns ; the latter, in the smaller and more out-of-
the-way places, being the resort of muleteers, who
are never admitted to a Casa de Huespedes. These
private lodgings may be had without difficulty, even

First Impressions of the Cathedral. 97

for one night, as well as for a longer period ; they
are a little dearer than the Posada or inn ; but they
are much more comfortable. Of coui'se, they must
be recommended by some reliable person. Those
that we had been advised to go to were kept by two
old ladies, sisters, and apparently decayed gentle-
women, who made us exceedingly comfortable. The
house was quiet, clean, and quaint, with large, almost
unfurnished rooms, and a cool, silent patio or inner
court. The cookery was a little oily, and not always
quite above suspicion of garlic ; but the bread was
white and good, the water deliciously cold, and the
wine excellent. Besides this, the chocolate was be-
yond all praise ; and the fruit and goat-milk cheese
very good. So, as far as food was concerned, we were
well off.

"We went immediately to the Cathedral, that
glorious Cathedral ! It is absolutely perfect, out-
side and in : there is nothing that one could wish
otherwise ; even the inevitable choir cannot spoil it.
Its peculiarity is the combination of exceeding rich-
ness of detail with great unity of plan ; the general
style of the arches being simple, extremely pointed
Gothic, quite without mixture of anything Moorish.
In one chapel only are some remains of the old
mosque.

H .

98 A Su7?imer in Spain.

A cathedral is said to have existed on this spot, in
the times of the Visigothic kings ; indeed, the Spanish
chroniclers assert that a church was built here and
dedicated to the Virgin in her lifetime ! Afterwards,
here was the great mosque of the Arabians, guaran-
teed to them by treaty, at the time the Cliristians
took Toledo. Of course, the guarantee was soon set
aside, and the Moslems dispossessed. I do not know
if any record exists as to its size, as compared with that
of Cordoba ; but it was probably smaller and less
rich, as Toledo was only the capital of one of the
lesser Arab kingdoms, and never of all Spain, under
the rule of Islam. At any rate, St. Ferdinand pulled
it down, in order to build the present Cathedral ; and
whatever the splendour of the mosque may have been,
one can feel no regret when standing in the glorious
aisles which have replaced it. At fii'st, I could look
only at the marvellous windows, with their ruby,
amethyst, and sapphii-e radiance. It was too late to
see the Chapel of the Kings that day, and I think we
were rather glad simply to feast our eyes, without
studying anything.

From the Cathedi-al we went to San Juan de los
Eeyes, a Franciscan convent, founded by Ferdinand
and Isabella, to commemorate the victory of Toro,
which secui'ed the crown of Castile to Isabella. St.

San yuan de los Reyes. 99

John was ever her favourite apostle, her patron
saint J her father was called John, and she gave the
same well-beloved name to her only son. There was
also a peculiar propriety in consecrating a Franciscan
convent to St. John ; St. Francis being originally
baptized John, and not Francis at all ; which latter
name indeed did not previously exist, and was only
given to the founder of the minor Friars, because
he spoke French so well that he was called "the
Frenchman."

Without, San Juan de los Eeyes is now all desola-
tion — dry, dusty, ashen desolation ; but the chains of
the Christian captives set free from Moorish slavery
still hang on the walls. Within, is the lovely cloister,
all sunshine, and green leaves and vine-tendrils en-
circling the exquisite sculpture. I wonder if any-
body ever thought that cloister less beautiful than
they expected ! The decorations of the chapel, too,
are very rich, and in good preservation. Then we
went and looked down on the Puerta del Cambron ;
a few steps further, and we stood on the edge of a cliff
composed of tawny dust, and saw the Tagus, sheer
down below us. A strange, lonely river it is. as it
rushes past this City of the Dead !

From thence we went to the old synagogue, built in
the ninth century, on earth brought from Mount Zion,

lOO A Summer in Spain.

and roofed with cedar from Lebanon. It is now a
chnrcli, having been stolen from the Jews by Ferdi-
nand and Isabella, and much spoilt by whitewash. It
quite deserves its name of Santa Maria la Blanca, or
the White. I wish the Spaniards would not wash
over all the beautiful Moorish colours. The photo-
graphs of this synagogue are finer than the reality ^
it is so disproportionately high and narrow.

The other synagogue, called El Transito, is also
now a church. There they have recently discovered
colours under the prevailing whitewash. The roof
and cornice are exceedingly beautiful.

The Jews were anciently very rich, numerous, and
powerful in Toledo. They claim to have been settled
in Spain ever since the days of Solomon ; and in
Toledo, one of the oldest of Spanish cities, was
one of their early colonies. They say, too, that
they had no share in the guilt of the crucifixion ; that,
on the contrary, they protested against the condemna-
tion of an innocent man. This did not, however, save
them from persecution, their wealth being a great
resource to the Visigothic kings ; for was it not always
easy to bring some sort of crime home to a Jew ?
Even if no false accusation were at hand, there was,
at any rate, the fact that he was not a Christian, and
this was surely sufficient. They did not exactly

Jews of Toledo. loi

endure patiently, but at least they endured ; till that
Palm Sunday morning, when they cpeiied: the geie -o?
this very Toledo, and let in the Moslems, who, after
all, were much more akin to them, in blood and
manners, than the Gothic Catholics. Now, one might
have thought they would have got on peaceably ; and,
indeed, for long they did so. But at last, whether
their riches were too great a temptation even to the
followers of the prophet, as the Jews allege ; or
whether, as is quite as probable, their discontent arose
mainly from their own restless and ungovernable
spirit, they, in an evil hour for themselves, intrigued
with the Christians against the Moslems ; and greatly
helped to bring in Alonso the Sixth, in 1085, after
Toledo had been under Arabian rule for 371 years.
Three hundred years more passed, however, tolerably
comfortably, as far as the Jews were concerned. They
lived on in Toledo, and made money ; of which, as was
natural, they were now and then plundered. Learned,
too, they were in their way; though, as Jews have
ever been, extremely conservative, and averse to new
theories and discoveries. It was a Jew of Toledo,
Isaac Israeli, who, in the fourteenth century, wrote a
treatise to prove, not that the Ptolemaic system was
true, but that its opponent, Alpetragius, even if right,
should not be listened to, because he was right on
erroneous grounds !

I02 A Summer in Spain.

Towards tire end of that century the persecutions
^^ain' b3'3aiae virulent; and, after another hundred
years of oppression and spoliation, they were finally
expelled. It is curious that, to this day, the Jews
seem still to love the architecture of their ancient
Moorish home ; at Pesth, where they are descendants
of those banished from Spain by Ferdinand and
Isabella, the synagogue, lately built, is thoroughly
Moorish in style.

From the synagogues we went to the fragment of
the old palace of the Moorish kings, with its exquisite
tracery. It was probably built some time between
1038, the date of the dismemberment of the Spanish
Caliphate (and consequent establishment of a separate
kingdom of Toledo), and 1085, when the Christians
re-took the city. It is now a ball-room.

In walking through the streets, we were particularly
struck with the many and fanciful forms of the door-
nails. Every door is studded with those nails, and
the shapes are very quaint, and often beautiful.
Sometimes they have reference to the object or history
of the building ; for instance, any building in any way
connected Avith Santiago, has nails in the form of
scallop-shells.

The handles and knockers, too, are varied and
beautiful. I wonder if the graceful devices of door-

A Tagus Eel. 103

Mnges and handles in the old Imperial Free Cities, as
in JS^iirnberg, for example, were derived from Spanish
influence in Charles the Fifth's reign.

We were by this time exceedingly tired of walking
up and down the steep streets of Toledo ; and, in
spite of the guide's entreaties that we should see
everything that day ("it would not take more than
four or five hours longer," he said), we persisted in
going home to breakfast and rest.

At this breakfast or almuerzo^ as it is called (it
being really more luncheon than breakfast), the land-
lady brought us a Tagus eel, as a great delicacy. H.
sX once pronounced it a snake, and refused to have
anything to do with it ; so I was obliged, unwillingly,
to eat her share and my own too, for fear of hurting
our kind hostess's feelings. I cannot say it was
particularly good, being rather oily, with an ex-
ceedingly strong flavour of musk. This latter
peculiarity still more convinced H. that the eel was
a snake ; a water-snake, if I liked, but certainly a
snake.

From the very door of our lodgings there was a
most beautiful view of the Cathedral spii'e, with a
j)icturesque bit of street scenery ; so, after breakfast,
I went out to sketch it. The street, like almost all
others in Toledo, was silent and deserted ; probably

I04 A Summer in Spain.

everybody was at that moment asleep, and thus I was
tolerably unmolested. It was very, very Spanish ;
the intense sunlight, and deep, still shadows ; the
windows, with their dark blue striped blinds drawn
outside and fastened to the railings ; the flower-filled
balconies ; the bright yellow and orange houses, with
their brown roofs ; and, at the end of the vista, the
pale, rich, creamy hue of the tall Cathedral spire, with
its circling thorny crowns. Presently, one or two
solemn figures, apparently but half-awake, came pacing
slowly up the street ; a priest in his black di'ess and
curiously turned-up hat ; a man who might have been
a beggar (only he didn't beg), in a rusty brown cloak;
then a clatter of heels, and I was nearly swept away
by a string of mules coming down; next, a wise-
looking donkey, bearing a basket of fruit. At last,
unluckily, the Toledan boys roused themselves from
their slumbers ; and those same boys have the character
of being the most impertinent and troublesome in the
whole Peninsula, which is saying a great deal. They
would be quite intolerable if it wore not for two
mitigating circumstances : one is, that they are not
very numerous ; the other, that all the respectable
people, and indeed all grown men and women gene-
rally, league together in self-defence against them,
and are quite willing to extend their protection to the

Experiences of Sketching. 105

stranger within their gates, who, in this instance, was
myself. One imp of mischief, watching his opportunity
when a good many of his companions and admirers
were present, and when no grown person was in sight,
placed himself before me, holding np a large, round
loaf at arm's length, and begged me to take his por-
trait, offering me 2, peseta (tenpence) for so doing. In
Spain, if you can turn the laugh against your adver-
sary, the victory is yours ; the Spaniards being very
sensitive to ridicule, and also about personal appear-
ance. I knew this; so replied coolly, "No; you are
too ugly." All his friends instantly turned against
him, laughing, and applauding my retort ; thoroughly
abashed, the boy slunk away, followed by his play-
mates hooting at him. Fair-weather friends I But I
had half an hour's peace in consequence ; then they
began to collect again ; whereupon our hostess emerged
from her doorway, and with true Castilian gravity
handed H. a stick, without saying a word. The sight
of the stick was enough ; they fled in terror ; and
I then observed that everybody, women as well as
men, carried a cane or stick of some sort, with which
they charged the little ragamuffins when matters
became unbearable. In about three-quarters of an
hour they returned, in orderly procession, the ring-
leader carrying a whip which they had manufactured.

io6 A Summer in Spain.

Ey this time, however, the sketch was finished ; so,
as is often the case in Spain, the opportunity had
slipped away while the preparations for war were
being made.

After dinner, we went into a pretty sitting-room
upstairs, with a view of the Alcazar and the brown
roofs of Toledo. There we made acquaintance with a
most amiable old black tom-cat. He was suffering
from asthma, poor thing; but even that could not
irritate his exceedingly sweet temper ; and he was
kindness itself to two young interlopers of kittens,
taking entire charge of them, and always calling to
them to come to him, quite unrufiled by the practical
jokes the ungrateful little creatures too often played
on him. There was also a pet turtle-dove, who was
very fond of the old pussy, and sat on him, and cooed
to him.

The Spaniards are extremely fond of cats and birds,
always keeping them together, in a way that I should
have thought hazardous ; but it was surprising how
seldom fatal results ensued. Dogs do not seem so
popular, being more rarely kept as j^ets; perhaps
because, in Spain, a quiet, domestic animal that does
not expect nor wish to be taken out for a walk, is
preferred. However, especially in Madrid and
Oranada, we saw some very handsome dogs, who

Chapels in the Cathedral. 107

seemed much prized, and were treated with great
kindness.

Next day we had chocolate very early, and went to
the Cathedral, hoping to hear the Mozarabic liturgy
there; but the Mozarabic chapel was under repair,
and no mass could be said in it. This was disappoint-
ing, Toledo being one of the very few places where
this ancient ritual is still in use. The Toledans say
that the books were buried by the Gothic priests at
the time of the Moslem Conquest, and found again
when the Christians re-entered the city.

As the Mozarabic mass was not to be had, we went
into the Capilla de los Eeyes T^uevos, where so many
Kings of Castile are buried. Among them lies
Catherine of Lancaster, wife of Eniique the Third,
daughter of John of Gaunt, and descendant of the
Cid. The statue of John the Second, father of Isabella
the Catholic, is here ; but his bones lie at Miraflores,
beneath the exquisite tomb erected by his daughter.
The more ancient kings are buried near the High
Altar, where also rests the great Cardinal Mendoza,
the "third sovereign," as he was called in the days
of Ferdinand and Isabella.

We wandered from chapel to chapel, all rich, all
beautiful, all interesting; the grand old Spanish names
ever recurring, and bringing back historic memories of

io8 A Su7n7ner in Spain,

the Sanchos and Alonsos, each a hero of chivaby.
The Chapel of the Condestable, built by the great
and unfortunate Alvaro de Luna, is one of the finest ;
there the scallop-shells of Santiago (be having been
Master of that Order) are mixed with the silver
crescent moon, his own armorial bearings.

Yet, with all its magnificence, the Cathedral of
Toledo does not weary the eye and mind as that of
Burgos does. The whole is so perfect that the rich
details adorn without oppressing it. It has been said
that architecture is frozen music \ and certainly, in
that Cathedral onQfelt the silent harmony. Alas ! it
must be owned that silent harmony is the only kind
one is likely to perceive in most Spanish churches,
for ecclesiastical music is at an exceedingly low ebb
throughout the Peninsula, If one could but transfer
the old Sistine choir to those wondrous aisles !

The door leading to the cloisters was open, so we
went in and sat down under a rose-tree, among the
myrtles, ♦ and the children brought us bunches of
flowers. Those Spanish cloisters are always en-
chanting, and this is one of the most beautiful, with
its light Gothic arches and wilderness of bright blos-
soms. People say that Gothic architecture suits the
gloom of a northern climate ; to me it seems to har-
monize best with the golden Spanish sunlight.

The Alcazar. lop-

We should have liked to stay there half the day^.
and spend the other half sitting in the little Plaza,,
looking at the exquisite portal; but was there not
still the Alcazar to see, and many things besides ? To
the Alcazar accordingly we went, the Amalekite
Alcazar. The very name thrilled one, though I must
confess ^to very hazy notions as to how it came to be
Amalekite ; nor could I exactly explain to myself
why, except in point of antiquity, the Amalekites
should have such a strong claim upon my affections.
What was worse, I could not get anybody to explain
to me clearly who those Amalekites really were;
were they indeed children of Amalek ? The accounts
are various : some saying that they were really and
truly a heathen tribe of Palestine, driven out by
Joshua ; others, that they were Hebrews who fled into
Spain in the time of Eehoboam, or later, at the period
of the Babylonish captivity, and who were called
Amalekites, as having come from the same country
whence the Phoenicians had migrated. Be that as it
may, its antiquity is appalling. How many dominions
it has seen ! That is to say, its foundations would
have seen them, if they had not, unfortunately, been
underground; for, truth to say, little else now remains
of any edifice more ancient than the time of Charles
the Fifth. But Phoenicians, Pomans, Visigoths, Ara-

no A Su7nmer in Spam.

bians, Spanish Goths again, have ruled since the first
stone of that grand fortress was laid ; the Moors pro-
perly so called, never. One has got so accustomed,
in common parlance, both in Spain and elsewhere, to
call everything Arab Moorish, that this assertion may
at first seem strange, but it is really true. Toledo,
with Castile generally, was colonized by natives of
Arabia and Persia, without any mixtm-e of African
blood. It was among the mountains of Aragon that
the Berbers settled, and also in the Alpujarras, south
of Granada. The Egyptian Moslems took possession
of Murcia and Lisbon, but the Moors of Morocco had
not yet overrun the country to any great extent. It
was not till the latter part of the eleventh century
that the great flood of invasion from Morocco took
place, just about the time that Toledo fell again
into the power of the Christians, after which epoch
the Spanish Moslems were usually called Moors;
before that, always Arahimis. Even after that date,
the rulers and generals seem to have been almost
always of Arabian descent, though the mass of their
subjects were Africans of Morocco. However, all
over Spain everybody calls everything belonging
to the Moslem domination, without troubling them-
selves about the exact period, indifferently Moorish
or Arabian.

King Wa7nba. 1 1 1

From the Alcazar the view is superb, though the
low hills in the immediate neighbourhood of Toledo
are tawny indeed, consisting of every shade of brown,
from the darkest sepia to the faintest orange ; but the
more distant landscape is in spring streaked with pale
tender green, stretching away to the blue mountains
and white snows, while over all is the dome of azure
that dims even an Italian sky. The curious bend of
the Tagus can be seen only from a height so as to
understand the topography of the place, the whole
town standing on a kind of promontory formed by the
river. They pointed out to us the remains of the
palace of King Wamba, whose reign seems to have
been a Gothic Golden Age. " The time of the good
King "Wamba," is an expression used in Spain equally
to signify anything either very long ago or very
peaceful and prosperous, perhaps because there has
not been a great deal of peace and prosperity in that
country of late years. Anyhow, the expression may
be translated into English either by "Before the
flood," or "In Arcadia." The real date of "Wamba
is, however, not so very long ago, being from 672 to
687. "Wamba's is an interesting story altogether.
His unwillingness to accept the crown, his deservedly
great popularity, and the strange way in which he
was finally deposed read like a romance. His kingdom

112 A Simimer in Spain.

extended not only over all Spain, but over the south of
France. It was he who equipped the earliest Spanish
fleet; the Arabs beginning by this time to be trouble-
some by sea, though they had not yet effected a land-
ing on any part of the coast. Fifty years later all
Spain was under the dominion of Islam. The wall&
of Toledo were built by Wamba; and history tells us
of his triumphal entry into the city after his victories
at Barcelona, I^arbonne, and Nimes. In the midst of
his glory he abdicated, and ended his days in a
monastery. Strange tales were told of how an enemy
administered a strong opiate to him, and had his head
shaved ; for, according to the laws of the Goths and
Franks, a head once shaven could wear no crown
except the tonsure, which, by the way, if true, shows
clearly in what light the temporal sovereignty of any
priest would have been regarded in those old days.
Others say that, being very ill, he became insensible,
and was supposed to be dead; the attendants therefore
cut off his hau', and dressed him in the monkish garb
for bui'ial; a pious observance common in those times,
and up to a much later period. He woke from his
trance, and, whether in obedience to the old Gothic
laws, or merely impelled by the feeling that one who
had so nearly crossed the verge of death should never
return to the world again, he voluntarily became a

Zocodover. 113

monk and died in the cloister. Another account is
that Wamba, weary of reigning, himself contrived the
plot which dethroned him.

The Toledans still cherish the Gothic associations
■of the Alcazar much more than those of Moorish
days. The names of Eecaredo and Eecesuintho are in-
scribed on its walls, with the dates respectively of
589 and 652. This Eecaredo was Eecared the First,
who reigned from 586 to 601. It was in his time
that the whole Peninsula abjured the errors of Arian-
ism and became Catholic. He was son of Leovigild,
who removed the capital of Spain from Seville to
Toledo. Eecesuintho is the same whose crown is in
the Hotel Cluny in Paris. But the proudest memory
of all is that of Alonso the Sixth, who was here pro-
claimed Emperor of Toledo, and who here appointed
the Cid its first Christian alcaide.

From the Alcazar we went down into the market-
place, still called by its Arab name of Zocodover.
Zoc or 8uh is, at this day, a market-place in Arabic ;
but, I believe, the original word meant the Moorish
summer-houses made of cane, which are often to be
seen in southern Spain and in Morocco. Probably
the markets were held in summer under this kind of
shelter, and hence the name. A fair has been held in
this Zocodover every Tuesday for many centuries. It

114 A Sujumer in Spain.

was an ancient custom under the Moslem, rule, and
the peasants still come in -witli their wares as they
did when Abdarrahman reigned in Cordoba, and his
viceroy here in Toledo ; and longer ago than that,
when the first Abdarrahman was but a viceroy under
the Caliph of Damascus, when the Ommiades ruled in
that oldest city of the earth, and Bagdad was yet
unbuilt.

This being the case, we felt it our duty to buy
something at a fair of such respectable antiquity. All
the wares were spread on the ground, and the vendors
sat among them, also on the ground. Toothing very
splendid was displayed for sale : fruit, vegetables,
chickens, eggs, little mirrors, brown earthen jars,
coarse stuff's, and very pretty fans were the chief
things ; the latter were astonishingly cheap. I now
began to understand how it was that the beggars
were always so much better provided in this respect
than I could ever contrive to be. So, not wishing to
be outdone by them, we each bought a fan, for which
we paid the extravagant sum of fivepence apiece;
but of course we could not attempt to rival the beg-
gars in the management of the article.

Then we went to the Mezquita, formerly, as the
name imports, a mosque, and now a church, called
the ' Cristo de la Luz.' Its modern name was given

Puerta del Sol. 115

to it from the legend of a miraculous light appearing.
Excavations were made on the spot, and a strange,
ghastly crucifix was found, with real human hair and
heard. This crucifix is still in the church, above the
^Itar.

Long before the Arab invasion, a church is sup-
posed to have existed here. Indeed, fragments of an
earlier building are visible in the walls of the present
edifice. It has not been altered at all, except of
course by a little whitewash (and even that, less
than usual), since Moorish days — since Alonso the
Sixth, nearly eight hundred years ago, took the city.
Here mass was said for the first time, when the
Christians entered ; for the first time, that is, for
three centuries and a half. It is an exceedingly
curious and interesting church, or rather mosque.
The arches are very peculiar, quite Moorish, and
all difi'erent; lately, they have discovered frescoes
in some of the alcoves ; these, of course, date from
Christian times, and were probably painted over the
old arabesques.

The beautiful Puerta del Sol is very near the
Mezquita; so we went and looked down from above
on this Eastern gate. There it stands, looking as
if no force, no time could overthrow it, nor even chip a
morsel off its stately towers ; a true Gateway of the

1 1 6 A Summer in Spam.

Sun, whose rays lighted up the pale rose-red brick-
work into the most glowing flame-colour. I should
have liked to go down and see it from below, but the
road was totally shadeless, and Spanish noonday is a
serious matter in the month of June. " So we con-
tented ourselves with the splendid view fi'om the
point where we stood, looking over the swift, full
Tagus, and the Huerta del Ecy ; those meadows by
the river-side where Alonso held a Cortes to judge
between the Cid and his treacherous sons-in-law,
the Counts of Carrion, who had married and ill-treated
his daughters, Doiia Elvira and Doiia Sol.

Next we proceeded to the Hospital of Santa Cruz,
now a military college. It was vacation-time ; so
we had all it to ourselves, and could wander about as
we pleased. The sculptured tracery is very beautiful,
resembling twisted wreaths of double convolvulus,
a little in the same style as that round the doorway
at Las Huelgas, near Burgos. The Hospital is a
Greek cross, and everything in and about it is in the
same form; even the very nails of the door have
the cross on them. Here we found Eoman associa-
tion ; for Cardinal Mendoza, who built it, was titular
Cardinal of Santa Croce in Gerusalemme.

But it would take too long to tell all we did and
saw in Toledo ; how we wandered up and down the

Aranjuez. 117

quiet streets, and peeped into dim, cool Moorish
courts or patios, with the oriental-looking well in one
corner, and a thick awning overhead ; and how
everybody, instead of resenting our impertinent
curiosity, bowed politely, and invited us to come
in 'and consider the house our own ; and showed
us Arabian stucco-work, and marvellously inlaid
wooden roofs, and quaint staircases, and room
partly lined with the beautiful azulejos, which we
English call Dutch tiles, though they are really
Moorish. In one house was a Moorish hall (now used
as a private theatre) with very fine tracery. We
went also into the Town-hall, which is wainscoted
with azulejos of majolica patterns.

Yery tired we were when we had seen all ; and
greatly did we enjoy the next day, spent in think-
ing of the wonders of Toledo, and listening to the
nightingales and cuckoos, under the shady elms of
Aranjuez.

Eeally those elms make one have quite an affec-
tion for Philip the Second's memory; a feeling
which was previously not by any means habitual
to me. Before he brought them from England,
Aranjuez must have been a much less agreeable
place. To do the Spaniards justice, they thoroughly
appreciate those magnificient trees, and take the

1 1 8 A Summer in Spain.

greatest care of them. Little runnels of water
flow at their feet, and this, with the hot sun,
nourishes them so well that they grow to a size I have
never seen equalled before or since. The trunks rise,
tall and straight, to an immense height before they
begin to branch ; then the boughs shoot higher and
higher, till at last they meet overhead, in an im-
pervious roof of green ; a thing not to be despised
when between you and the Spanish sun. Aranjuez
is a good deal hotter than Toledo, as we found
when walking across the wide, white, shadeless
space in front of the palace.

It is an extremely handsome building, and looks as
if it would be pleasant to live in, there being nothing
dreary about it. There is one very curious room,
which, instead of being painted or papered, is en-
tirely lined with beautiful Capo di Monte porcelain in
high relief. The gardens, however, are the great at-
traction; not so much the Florera, or flower-garden,
which was simply a jungle of luxuriant common
flowers, losing itself finally in an immense orchard,
where the apricots and cherries hung over the tangled
roses. But the shady walks under the elms, oriental
planes, and sweet-blossomed lindens were delicious.
We sat a long time in the very thickest of the covert,
with the niffhtino-ales almost deafenino' us with their

Casa del Labrador. 119

song ; and, in the distance, the clear sweet cry of the
cuckoo, bringing back memories of primrose banks at
home.

There are ponds and rustic bridges and summer-
houses in abundance ; and there were once waterfalls
and fountains in a small way, when Queen Isabella
and her gay Court used to come here every spring,
after Easter, for six weeks. The ponds are stagnant
now, the waterfalls silent, the fountains dry, but the
great glory of the place can never dry up — the lordly
Tagus, which rushes in full stately volume right
through the garden. Somehow, I could never get
accustomed to seeing the Tagus there ; though, to be
sure, as I had just parted from it at Toledo, I need
not have been so surprised. But one always asso-
ciates the Tagus more with Lisbon and Portugal
generally than with Aranjuez or Toledo, or any other
Spanish place or thing. There is certainly no lack of
water here ; for the Jarama (celebrated in Moorish
ballads for the fierce breed of bulls reared on its
banks) joins the Tagus quite near the palace.

We went to the Casa del Labrador, one of those
little Trianon-like palaces at one period so beloved by
sovereigns who might have been better lodged in
their more regal dwellings. It is a pretty little
bird's-nest of a place, in the midst of deep shade, a

I20 A Siunmer in Spam.

very wilderness of greenery, which must have been
pleasant to eyes weary of the glare at the larger
palace. It seemed a kind of playing at being lost in
the depths of a forest. French timepieces abound in
the house \ and in one room was a clepsydi*a, more
appropriate in the vicinity of Toledo, so renowned in
the Middle Ages for those water-clocks, that learned
men came from distant lands to inspect them. An
odd contrast between the gilt pen dale ^ suggestive
of Louis Quinze and all his surroundings, and the
strange-looking instrument which aided Alonso
the Wise in his heterodox astronomical calcula-
tibns !

The gardens are of great extent, and, pleasant as it
was, the walk was fatiguing, especially when we had
to cross the Tagus by a shadelcss bridge, and then
traverse an equally shadeless Plaza, in order to get
into the Jardin de la Isla, which is quaint and formal,
with statues like those in the Villa Borghcse in
Rome.

Then we went back to dinner, to the little Fonda
de los Infantes, where the waiter was greatly dis-
tressed that we would not eat more. We apologised,
saying that we had breakfasted late, and extremely
heartily. He replied : " I do not know about that ; I
only know that now your worships have eaten no-

The Palace Garden. 121

thing, nothing, nothing (nada, nada, nada)," vanishing
out of the room with an untouched dish of asparagus
and a melancholy countenance. Very soon he re-
turned, with everything he could think of to tempt
us to eat, and a request that we would only name
anything we fancied. It was really an exceedingly
comfortable clean little inn, with very good food and
great civility.

In the evening it was very hot in the house, so,
though tired, we went out. The road, though plea-
santly shady in the day time, looked rather gloomy in
the dusk. Accordingly, we coaxed the gate-keeper
of the palace-garden to let us in again. This was
quite contrary to rule, as people ought to get in only
with 2^ pajjeleta or permit, which serves for but one
visit, and ours had been already given up in the
morning. But I suppose he saw that we would give
him a trifle, and therefore admitted us. We went up
to the flower-garden, which had been too sunny to
linger in at noon. Now it was delicious with all
fresh odours, and the song of the nightingales louder
and sweeter than ever. Long did we sit there, till
we began to fear we might be locked in for the night.
I don't know that it would have been any great mis-
fortune after all ; it would have been quite safe, and
exceedingly cool and pleasant. But we found the

122 A Summer in Spain.

civil gardener waiting to let us out, and receive his-
half-peseta. It was a well-bestowed fivepence.

The wide dusty street of Aranjuez was suffocat-
ingly hot; thunder was growling in the distance,
and, as we entered the inn, one or two great drops of
rain fell. Our hopes of a refreshing shower were dis-
apj)ointed, however ; for, though the thunder crashed
and rolled with blue forked lightning all night, yet
there was scarcely any rain, and next morning the
sky was cloudless as ever. We were told that those
rainless thunder-storms were characteristic of Aran-
juez, and that they were extremely dangerous, there
being almost always somebody struck by the thunder-
bolt. '-^f'^/<>^-y

By breakfast-time we were again in Madrid, occu-
pied with preparations for our excursion to La Granja,
Segovia, and the Escorial.

123

CHAPTEH VI.

A Spanish Diligence — Mountain Eoad — La Granja — Gar-
dens — Palace — Marshal Serrano — Watertvorks — An
Active Tortoise — Snakes — Drive to Segovia — Old
Amphitheatre — Cathedral — Little Manuela — Alcazar
— Mint — Santa Cruz — San Domingo — San Esteban —
Aqueduct — Parral — Vera Cruz — Provincial Museum
— Journey to Escorial — Church — Eoyal Sepulchres —
Library — Pictures — Back to Madrid.

On the 14tli of June we left Madrid by the early
train for Yillalba, on the northern railway ; there we
were to] find the diligence for La Granja, or St. Ilde-
fonso, as it was originally called ; La Granja meaning
simply the Grange, or farm. Philip the Fifth, who
hated the Escorial, was struck with the extreme
beauty of the situation and purity of the air at this
mountain farm of the monks of St. Ildefonso ; he

124 A Su7n77ier in Spain.

therefore bought it of them in 1720, built the palace^
and made the gardens at a great expense.

This was to bo our first experience of a Spanish
diligence. Xow, in no country were we partial to
this mode of travelling, always preferring a vetturino
in Switzerland and Italy, and it certainly did not
seem probable that we should here find greater com-
fort than in those more tourist-ridden countries. To
add to our misgivings, we could not get the seats we
wanted. The berlina is the best place, answering to
what is called in France and elsewhere the coupe ;
in it there is room for three, and very amply suffi-
cient room, too. Above this is what in Spain is
called the coupe, which is perched at a tremendous
height, and, though covered with a hood like that of
a caleche, has no glass in front. Sometimes there are
leather curtains, sometimes not; but, in any case,
they can never be drawn, and are generally wonder-
fully torn and dilapidated. To get up to this ele-
vated position is not always easy ; getting down is
less difficult, owing to the laws of gravitation, which,
however, by no means ensure j^our not hurting your-
self in the process. At the starting-points from any
large civilized town, there is generally a ladder, more
or less unsteady, and not invariably long enough ;
but still it is a great help. In the smaller places

A Spajiish Diligence. 125

there is nothing of the kind; and everybody looks
hopelessly, first at you, and then at the height above
you, as if this were a contingency that had occurred
for the first time. At last a neighbour produces a
rickety table, or the sausage-seller on the opposite
«ide of the street brings out a greasy bench, or an
official rises grandly from a broken chaii-, and, with a
bow worthy of the Grand Monarque, presents it to
you ; and by the united exertions, most obligingly
offered, of all your fellow-passengers and half the popu-
lation of the village, you are finally hoisted into your
seat.

When we arrived at Villalba, two diligences were
waiting, as it seemed to us, in a pigsty ; and, truth
to say, their appearance harmonized admirably with
their surroundings. We soon perceived, however,
that the pigs were mere casual visitors, who had
come to see the travellers start ; and the state of dirt
around was but the normal condition of the place.
Of course, there was nobody to help us out of the
train, nor into the diligence, nor even to tell us which
was for La Granja ; but it is surprising how soon one
learns to be independent, to open the doors of railway
•carriages, to get out and in when the train is in
motion, to find out somehow where one is, and where
one ought to be, in order to reach one's destination ;

126 A Sujiwier in Spain.

and, in short, to get out of the habit of considering
oneself as luggage, to be taken care of and forwarded
by the proper authorities. To be sure, some things
in Spain are greatly in one's favour : at the station
there is never a crowd, and, above all, never a hurry ;
the train goes so slowly that getting out when it is
in motion can scarcely be dangerous ; and, though no
Spaniard ever volunteers information, even when it is
his duty to do so, all are most willing to give it
when asked, although you may chance to apply to
somebody who has no connection whatever with the
subject.

We scrambled up like cats into our coupe, having
secured the whole of it for ourselves. Once up, it
was not so bad, though rather dirty ; there was plenty
of room, and the view not impeded by the diiver's
back, as is sometimes the case in the berlina. There
was a little difficulty at the first start, in consequence
of two of the mules running backwards, and one
attempting to go round and round. But soon we
were off ; and, observing a stream and a bridge before
us (two things not often foimd united in Spain,
though frequently to be seen separately), we naturally
■ concluded that we were to cross the stream by means
of the bridge. Not at all; whether merely impelled
by the force of habit, or whether the bridge was

Mountain Road. 127

supposed not strong enough for the heavy diligence,
we dashed off the road, down a steep bank, plunged
with our eleven mules and one horse right through
the water, and struggled and scrambled up the still
steeper bank on the other side : the mayoral or con-
ductor shouting, screaming, swearing, and addressing
each mule by name, with very uncomplimentary
adjectives, while the by-standers helped, to the utmost
of their power, by sending a shower of stones after
the animals. It was an excellent beginning, inas-
much as we saw at once that it was no such easy
matter to upset a diligence. After this the road was
tolerable, and the scenery lovely. The gum-cistus
was in even richer bloom than when we had crossed
the Guadarrama the first time in coming to Madrid ;
the broom was more golden, the lavender more
royally purple, and in tbe diligence, of course, we had
more time to observe and enjoy the profusion of wild-
flowers. We wound our way up the steep slopes
that reminded us of the background of a Yelasquez ;
but instead of his cold greens, here all was brilliant
colour, and his dark indigo blues became purest
sapphire. Up we went till we got among the snow-
fields ; and the cool freshness was delicious, after the
glare of Madrid and the tawny desolation of Toledo.
It was like an Alpine pass, and the road was actually

128 A Summer in Spain.

cut through the snow which lay on both sides. Then
^e descended into a wild valley, full of magnificent
pines, where the road skirted a tremendous ravine,
and was exceedingly Norwegian in character. In
some parts the scenery reminded us of the Bavarian
Highlands, near Ammergau; and altogether it had
quite lost its Spanish and Velasquez look. It was a
most delightful drive, and we were quite sorry to
emerge from this grand forest into the open coimtry
again. Even then, it was very pretty; the ground
was beautifully broken with thickets of dog-roses and
plenty of oak brushwood ; and always the blue
Guadarrama peaks and the snowy slopes.

About five hours from the time we left Yillalba,
we came in sight of a stiff, prim edifice, with high-
pointed roofs and pepperbox towers ; looking like the
palace of some small, dull German princedom, and
very unlike the wild Guadarrama scenery. We
stopped under a large tree, there being apparently
no diligence-office ; but luckily there was a ladder,
and we descended among the whole population ; not
very many, to be sure. We had been advised to go
to the Fonda Europea ; and, on naming it, a bright-
looking French youth of fourteen or fifteen came
forward, and took possession of our small luggage.
It was a most comfortable little inn, kept by a French-

La Granja. 1 29

man and his wife and family, without any waiters or
servants whatever. The eldest son kept the principal
shop in the place ; the second cooked, and extremely
well too, besides playing a great deal on the piano ;
the third, Jules, who had received us, was waiter,
boots, chambermaid, porter, and commissionaire ; in
addition to which, he knew exactly the position of
the old strawberry beds, now run wild, in the Palace-
garden, and how to creep through the fences in order
to get at them. The fourth boy was still at his
education ; and his father's great ambition was to
send him to England to learn the language. The
landlady was a nice, motherly woman, who superin-
tended everything, and made wonderful apricot jam.
The landlord did not do much except pet his little
girls, scold everybody else, rail at the Spanish nation,
and press his guests to eat.

Here we should really have felt inclined to stay all
summer, had not the Alhambra lain beyond. We
rose early, had chocolate, and went into the Palace-
gardens. Those gardens are open to the public every
■day, and all day long; and as the public, in this
instance, consisted exclusively of ourselves, it was
most enjoyable. Long, shady elm-avenues stretch in
all directions ; the leaves were but just out, and had
not yet lost their first fresh green and delicately-

130 A Summer in Spain.

crimped edg(\s ; and in those thick coverts the night-
ingales sang all day long. Near the palace all is
formal, A\'itli stiff gardens, qnaintly clipped trees,
and splendid fountains ; but gradually it becomes
wilder and more forest-like, till at last, after many a
long, cool alley, wliere the very air seems of emerald,
one enters a little firwood, full of 'wildflowers.
From this one emerges on a little lake, just below a
bold bare peak of the Guadarrama, which rises almost
sheer out of the water. This lake is in reality
artificial ; hut so wild and natural does it look, that
one can scarcely believe it otherwise than a mountain
tarn.

The palace itself is a delightful little i)lace ; little,
that is, AN'lien compared with the Escorial, or with the
palace in Madrid, or even with Aranjucz ; but it is
really a good-sized building, with pretty apartments,
and the advantage, I should think, of being always
cool, even in the hottest weather. In June, when we
were there, the ground-floor was quite too cold. The
Queen's })rivate apartments are charming, with some
good modern pictures. The bath-room is the prettiest
I have ever S(>en, being a mixture of bath, fountain,
and conservatory, l^o wonder La Granja has always
been such a fa\'ourite residence of the Spanish Bourbons.

In tlie reserved gardens is a lab5'rinth, greatly

Marshal Serrano. 131

delighted in by those same Bourbon sovereigns, who
amused themselves by taking people to the centre
and then letting them make fruitless efforts to get out
again. It was not so very difficult after all, not being
nearly so complicated as some other labyrinths I have
seen. We found our way out easily enough, having
only twice to retrace our steps a little way.

Otherwise, there is not much to see in the reserved
gardens ; they being chiefly nurseries of young trees
and shrubs. The winters are too long and cold, and
the soil too poor for very fine flowers. However, the
gardener gave us beautiful bunches of roses.

We went also to see the remains of the old chapel
of the monks of St. Ildefonso. The situation is lovely ;
and I think they must have been sorry to sell their
mountain grange to Phili23 the Fifth.

One day the landlord came to us in a state of great
excitement to say that Marshal Serrano was coming
that afternoon; and if " Mesdames " would go and sit
under the large tree where the diligence arrived, they
would see " Le gentil Greneral." " Is he coming in
the diligence ? " we asked with some surprise. " How
else could he come ? " was the yet more astonished
reply. And it was quite true that, unless he walked
or rode, there was no choice. Indeed, in Spain, even
royal princes frequently travel in this way, from

132 A Summer in Spain.

sheer lack of any other means of conveyance. Once
when the present King and Queen of Portugal passed
through Spain on their way from Paris to Lisbon,
they took the whole diligence on the Badajoz route,
and travelled thirty hours in it, in the month of De-
cember, the King going outside, and the Queen and
little Prince in the berlina. Queen Isabella herself,
however, always came from Madrid to La Granja in a
coche^ or travelling-carriage, with relays of mules,
forced into so quick a gallop that one or more of the
poor animals generally died afterwards.

But the diligence was to be Serrano's conveyance ;
and the news of his expected arrival having spread,
everybody turned out to meet him in gala di'ess.
There were actually some gens-d'armes, the fii'st we
had seen in Spain, and they were exceedingly well-
dressed, and looked remarkably soldier-like. All the
gatekeepers, gardeners, and other officials connected
with the palace were there in splendid uniforms ; and
everybody of consequence, our landlord and his sons
included, had on their Sunday's best. There was no
rabble ; I don't think there are materials for a mob in
La Granja, which is essentially an aristocratic and
royal place : the crowd seemed composed of officials
and shopkeepers. All stood respectfully a little apart;
and when the lumbering diligence appeared, those

Waterworks. - 133

who had arms presented them, and those who had
hats took them off. We, of course, expected to see
Serrano step out of the berlina. IN'ot at all ! He
emerged from the dusty, dirty interior, and walked
quietly away, carrying an exceedingly small carjDot-
hag, and acknowledging the salutations of the people.

He looked older than I expected, but walked with
a firm, springy step, and his bright, quick eye glanced
eagerly round. I could not but contrast his recep-
tion here with the cold, slighting manner in which
poor King Amadeus was looked at in the streets of
Madrid.

The next day we were told the waterworks were to
play. ''In honour of Marshal Serrano?" asked we
innocently. " Not at all, Madame ; the fountains
play only for royalty," was the reply. " But what
royal personage is here at present?" said we. This
was a puzzling question ; and the only answer vouch-
safed was a recommendation to go and see the
wonderful fountains. Certainly, they are magnificent;
finer than Sydenham, finer than the Grandes Eaux at
Versailles ; even though the most beautiful of all was,
unluckily, under repair. The surrounding scenery,
too, is infinitely more picturesque than in either of
the above-named places.

When we went into the garden, there was nobody

134 ^"^ Stt?/imer in Spain. •

there except the gardeners and gatekeepers in uni-
form, as if to receive the Queen. Presently the great
palace-entrance to the garden was thrown open, as it
used to be for the Queen and her Court, and out
stepped Serrano, with two or three gentlemen with
him. He bowed royally to everybody, and imme-
diately the fountains began to play

One of them is so contrived as suddenly to increase
so much as to drench all the by-standers. "We had
been warned of this, and stood at a cautious distance ;
but Serrano, though he must have known it well, was
talking at the moment, and had to jump back very
quickly to escape being thoroughly wet. Queen Isa-
bella delighted much in this fountain. We were told
she used to engage people in conversation, so that
they could not escape ; and she did not care how wet
she got herself, provided she could succeed in drench-
ing anybody else.

The fountains played in succession, each beginning
just as Serrano came up ; and, indeed, he walked so
exceedingly fast, that it was no easy matter to keep
up with him, especially as it was the hottest hour of
the day, and there is not much shade in that part of
the garden.

There was nobody present except Serrano himself,
the innkeeper and his family, and ourselves, but they

An Active Tortoise. 135

still asserted that whatever might be the reason of
the fountains playing, it was not in honour of the
Marshal !

After it was over he again bowed, this time taking
off his hat ; the officials bowed very lo^v indeed, and
Serrano walked quicldy away.

Ten days passed most agreeably in our leafy retreat.
"We had got to know all the work-people, the civil
gardeners, and the old woman at the gate, whose
heart we had won in this manner : ime day, when we
were walking down the steep street leading from the
palace, we espied a tortoise making its way leisurely
along in the very middle of the road, where a passing
cart must inevitably have crushed it. We did not
know whether, in Spain, tortoises habitually crawled
about the streets in this manner ; but tliou2,hi; it best
to capture it, and carry it back to the palace-gate.
'' Does this belong to your worship ? " said II. politely,
in her best Spanish. " Maria purisima I that's my tor-
toise," exclaimed the old woman, holding out her arms
to receive the treasure; and adding, "It is a great
runner (corre mucho)," which is not the usual
character of this animal. She was full of gratitude,
inquired if our worships liked kittens, and, on being
answered in the affirmative, ran into hi>r house,
deposited the tortoise in a place of safety, and came

136 A Stunmer in Spain.

back with a lapful of cats and kittens of all ages and
sizes, whose different relationships she strove to
explain to us, while a large dog looked solemnly and
respectfully on. The tortoise certainly was a great
vagabond j and several times afterwards we saved it
from destruction. The consequence was that the old
woman was always ready to let us out through her
house, if the great gate was closed, as was sometimes
the case when we staj^ed in the garden long after sun-
set. And how magnificent those sunsets were, over
the great plain that stretched away far below us, with
the Cathedral of Segovia standing up like a tall ship
in the midst of the golden sea !

I could never make up my mind whether the
evenings or the fresh bright mornings were the most
delightful. Perhaps the early mornings ; for then the
nightingales sang the loudest ; but, indeed, they sang
all day long, more or less. The only drawback, the
only thorn on the rose, was the fear of the much-
treaded asp. One is always told that there is only
3ne venomous kind of snake in Spain. This is quito
true ; but would be even more reassuring, if there
were not so very many of that particularly deadly
species. After all, it is not much consolation, if a
snake bites you, to be told that it is precisely the only
poisonous kind in the country. The common wrig-

Segovia. 137

ling, dark-coloured snake is perfectly harmless ; and
is indeed supposed to be beneficial, being much used,
made into broth, as a remedy for consumption. But
the grey asp is a very deadly creature, some people
even asserting there is no cure for its bite ; while
others say it is not always fatal. However this may
be, it was not pleasant to see a large asp crawling
majestically, with head erect, down the very middle
of a broad path, and ensconcing itself behind our
favourite seat. The gardeners are exceedingly afraid
of them.

But now St. John's Day was at hand, when the
nightingales cease to sing, and the heat is supposed to
begin ; and we had Segovia and the Escorial still to
see, and burning La Mancha to cross, before getting
to the pure air and deep shade of Granada. "We
therefore, most reluctantly, prepared for departure,
visited all our favourite haunts once more, and started
for Segovia early on "the morning of St. John," so
often sung of in the old Spanish ballads. In little
more than an hour we drew near the gate, and found
ourselves in the middle of a gipsy horse-faii' ; the
fair of St. John. The gipsies are the great horse-
dealers in this part of the world, and they are said to
cheat fearfully.

The first object that strikes one at the entrance of

138 A Siimvier i?i Spai?i.

Segovia is the old Eoman ampLitheatre ; it is in good
prcservatioiij and is now a bull-ring. "We hastened
on. ho-wever, in order to be in time for High Mass at
the Cathedral. It is a grand building, but plain com-
pared with Burgos and Toledo ; the position is
perfectly superb. TVe entered, and found it full of
peasants, in most picturesque costumes. One very
tall, striking-looking man, was attired exactly like a
man-at-arms of the olden time, in tight-fitting buff
jerkin, broad leather belt, a sort of flounce round the
waist, high boots, wide sleeves, and a very high,
standing-up ruff. Everybody looked clean and
respectable, and extremely devout ; the women
crouching low on their mats, and the men, with high
ruff and short cloak, kneeling on one Iniee, and
looking like Sir Walter Ealeigh. The church was
exceedingly clean, as indeed, is generally the case in
Spain ; Spanish churches being very superior in this
respect to Eoman ones.

Then we went back to the Fonda, to breakfast. It
was an exceedingly prinntive little inn, in the very
picturesque market-place, where every house leant in
a different direction from its neighbour, besides being
all of various colours; brown, orange, and yellow,
being the predominating tints. At first, the people
at the inn were greatly surprised to see us, and

Little Mamiela. 139

asked, as they almost always do in small places in
Spain, '' "Who conld possibly have recommended this
hotel ? " But soon they recovered from their stupor,
and lavished civilities on us. Our landlord was a fat,
elderly man, who seldom ventured beyond the
precincts of the kitchen. His wife was a rather
pretty, lady-like woman, evidently well educated, who
did not do much except go to mass, say kind things
to her guests, and cultivate her geraniums, the finest
of which she liberally gathered for us. There was a
waiter, quite a young boy, who came when called, and
received orders wdiich he never executed ; while all
the work of the house was done by Manuela, the little
lame and deformed chamber-maid. Her duties con-
sisted of doing everything that the boy forgot, besides
making the beds, cleaning the house (rather imper-
fectly, it must be owned), bringing hot water, waiting
on the guests, walking all round the town with them
as commissionaire^ if, as was often the case, no other
was to be had, running messages, doing all the needle-
work, keeping the linen in order, dressing her
mistress's hair in the most elaborate fashion, taking
care of the birds, and petting seven black cats of
different ages, from a week old upwards. She was
always in good humour, never in a hurry, and sang
merrily all day long ; she had even time to find the

140 A Siunmer in Spain.

kittens when the old cat hid them, and forgot
where she had put them, as frequently happened.
Poor little Manuela ! she was an orphan, she said;
had never known her father and mother, and
had no relations; but she had been a long time
with "la Sefiora" (the landlady), who was so kind
to her !

The inn was not exactly what would generally bo
called comfortable, being rather dirty; and the cookery
was not particularly good. But there was so much
kindness and hearty good-will, that it made up for all
deficiencies.

We had been warned beforehand to beware of
talking English here ; for most of the young students
at the great Segoviun Military College dine in this
hotel, and all understand English, though nothing
will induce them to speak it. We thought this a
rather alarming i^rospect, and selected an houi' for
breakfast when we supposed we should have the com-
fort of solitude. But w^hcn we opened the door, the
room was nearly full of students, sitting at breakfast
with their hats on. We need not have doubted
Spanish politeness, however ; the moment they saw
us, they started up, thi'cw their hats to the other end of
the room, gave us theii* chairs, and went to look for
others for themselves.

The Alcazar. 141

After breakfast, we went to tlie Alcazar, that
superb Alcazar ! It is impossible to imagine a more
magnificent position, as it stands on that bold
promontory formed by the two streams, the Eresma
and the Clamores. Segovia is said to be a thoroughly
Castilian city ; but there is nothing Castilian in the
view from the Alcazar : all is running water and fresh
green leaves.

The history of the fire that made a majestic ruin of
what was, till recently, one of the stateliest edifices
in Spain, is curious, as illustrating the complete law-
lessness which prevails in this extraordinary country.
The students, all scions of noble Spanish families,
found it dull in Segovia, and thought, if they could
succeed in destroying the Alcazar, then the seat of the
Military College, they might possibly be transferred
to Madrid, and there amuse themselves to their heart's
content. They accordingly set it on fire ; and the
Segovians say the sight of it blazing was something
appalling. So far they succeeded in their intention,
inasmuch as the building was too much damaged to
be any longer used as the college ; but they did not
carry their point of being transferred to Madrid;
another locality being found for them in the hated
Segovia. No investigation was made, however, and
nobody was punished; the families to whom the

142 A Siimvier in Spain.

culprits belonged being too powerful to be meddled
Trith !

Eut even in ruin it is magnficicnt, and the view
glorious. Its historical interest, too, is great. We
were shown the room where the thunderbolt fell,
close to Alonso the Wise, just as he was finding
out the starry secrets of which the Chui'ch dis-
approved. The learned monarch was dreadfully
frightened; and, to make amends for his too
prying researches, put up a rope of solid gold, in
honour of St. Francis, round the cornice of the
room ; vowing also to wear a hempen rope always
round his waist. The golden rope was melted by
the conflagration in 1862.

Here Isabella the Catholic took refuge in her
early troubles ; and here she was residing when
she was proclaimed Queen of Castile. Here, too,
our Charles the First stopped for a night, 13th
September, 1623, on his Spanish journey, and
supped on " certaine trouts of extraordinary great-
nesse."

We were shown the window from which the
poor little Infante, son of Henrj'- the Third, was let
fall by his attendant. It is indeed a fearful
height; down, down, among the rocks and bushes,
the hapless baby must have been dashed to pieces.

TJie Cathedral. 143

Of course, we went up to the very top ; rather
dizzy work, as in some places there is no parapet
whatever, and you are occasionally warned not to
step on this or that stone, as it is insecure. One
terrace, in particular, our guide would not allow us to
go on at all ; he said it would break off, some day,
and fall into the river below. When we were on the
highest part, a tremendous thunderstorm came on;
and the crashes were so completely overhead, that
we began to think we were incurring much the same
risk as Alonso the Wise. It was so grand that even
this danger could not drive us away ; the clouds
stalked about among the mountains, blotting out one
after another, and then rushing down and descending
on Segovia ; till, all at once, the storm rolled away
over the great plain, and the hills were again sapphire
and pearl.

When we came out of the Alcazar, we were much
struck by the extreme beauty of the view of the
Cathedral from this point. It stands high, and the
rich yellow of the stone contrasts finely with the blue
sky and bluer hills, with their pure white snows.
I accordingly determined to sketch it, later in the
day ; but in the meantime we proceeded to the
Vera Cruz, a little Templar church, which stands
^n the very edge of the green oasis of Segovia, where

144 -^ Summer in Spam.

the diy, pale yellow desert stretches away as far
as the eye can reach, with the little village of
Ziunarramala in the midst, looking like a heap of
stones.

Unluckily, this being St. John's Day, there was
nobody to open the church; the guardian having
gone, it was supposed, to the gipsy fair. We had
therefore to content ourselves with walking round the
outside, and admiring the peculiar and beautiful west
doorway, with its zigzag mouldings. Then we went
on to Fuencisla, an exceedingly curious church, partly
cut in the rock, which rises above it, and from which
criminals were anciently thrown. In coming back,
we passed a large cave in the rock, where a great
number of the houseless poor live, or rather sleep ;
for their waking moments arc probably devoted to
begging, or possibly to stealing. We asked if there
were any robbers there; and the answer was, "Some-
times it might be so." And indeed I should not like
to pass that cave in the dusk alone, and with money
in my purse.

We next went to the Casa de Moneda^ or Mint,
founded by Alonso the Seventh, in the twelfth century,
and now no longer used. It is beautifully situated
on the Eresma, in a mass of green foliage, with a
pretty little garden sloping down to the river. All

Santa Cruz. 145

-was dilapidated, tangled, confused ; the garden so
overgrown that one could scarcely get along the
walks ; but, instead of weeds, it was a jungle of
-splendid old-fashioned cabbage-roses that hindered
our progress. We were not at all inclined to find
fault with this sweet-scented wilderness, especially
when a great bunch of the very largest and
^finest roses was bestowed on us. In the house,
the instruments for coining still remained, but
broken and dirty ; not rusty, however, for in dry
Spain nothing rusts, nothing moulds. The spiders
were extremely flourishing, and their industry was
testified by many cobwebs. The Mint is now
■established in Madrid.

Now, we began to climb the steep hillside leading
up to the town. It was exceedingly hot ; for, though
the air of Segovia is remarkably pure and bracing,
the sun on St. John's Day has quite as much power
as is pleasant ; and the Spanish veil, which we had
adopted, as being less conspicuous, gave but little
protection to the head on this shadeless ascent. We
were, therefore, very glad to go into the church of
Santa Cruz, whose coolness seemed icy coldness after
the warm outer air. In Italy it would have been dan-
gerous to sit in a cold church after such a walk ; but
in Spain, if you can manage to avoid sunstroke, and

146 A Suiiwier in Spain.

don't mind being baked occasionally, nothing else
does you any harm ; always excepting in Madrid, where
everything half kills you. So we rested comfortably
in this Arctic temperature, and then examined the
beautiful carvings round the doorway. The cloisters
are deserted, and exceedingly dull ; which latter state
of things is rare in Spain. The adjoining convent
was Dominican, founded by Ferdinand and Isabella,
and bears their well-known motto, "Tanto monta,"
with their devices, the yoke and the bunch of arrows.
It was a Spanish custom, in the Middle Ages, for
husband and wife each to adopt a badge of which the
first letter should be the same as that of the beloved
consort's name ; for instance, Ferdinand chose the
yoke, or '''' jugo^'' whose initial corresponded with that of
Isabel, then, strange as it may seem, frequently S2)elt
Jesahel; while Isabella took the arrows^ or ^^flechas^'''' for
her device, beginning with the same letter as Fer-
dinand.

Behind, on the other side of the garden, is a very
curious little church, San Domingo, where we saw an
interesting and exceedingly odd-looking genealogical
tree of St. Dominic and the Guzman family generally,
showing the saint to be descended from Eobert,
Duke of IS'ormandy, and consequently from Ganger
Eolf.

Aqueduct. j 47

The convent of San Domingo is still occupied by
nuns, so we could not get in to examine either the
old Eoman statue of Hercules nor the Moorish
frescoes said to exist there,

On our way back to the town, we passed through
the Plaza of St. Esteban, and entered the church.
There is not much to see inside, but the exterior is
very beautiful, with its graceful tower and curious
open cloister, or corredor^ as they call it, outside the
church.

"We next went to the old Eoman aqueduct, which
is superb. It is in perfect preservation, and still
conveys to the town its abundant supply of coldest,
clearest water from Eio Frio. The height is stupen-
dous, and so fragile and fairy-like is it, that one
marvels how those light arches should, for so many
centuries, have resisted the winter's cold and sum-
mer's sun of Spain, not to speak of the hand of man.
The grandest point is where it strides across the
entrance of the town : it is supposed to have been
built by Trajan, who, himself a Spaniard, did much
for his native country ; but no record whatever exists
on the subject. Wonderful tales concerning it are
plentiful ; and as we wished to hear what our guide
had to say, we asked him "Who had built it? " He
replied that a great many extraordinary and in-

148 A Sum?}ier hi Spain.

credible stones were told about it, and many of them
lie really could not believe; but it seemed to him
extremely probable that it had been built by the
devil ! And what confirmed him in this supposition
was that, as we might perceive, there was a portrait
of the devil up in a niche, ' ' and he must surely have
done it himself, for what artist would like to take a
portrait of the devil?" "We suggested that some
people said the portrait in question was that of a
saint. " It was all very well to saij so, but nobody
could doubt it was the devil ; and was not the aque-
duct always called the devil's bridge? And had there
not always been a statue up there, even in the old
misbelieving times ? " This was quite true, only the
statue which then existed was supposed to be Trajan.
Our guide scouted this last idea, and said it was, and
always had been, the devil. Then he related the
well-knoAvn legend of the devil building the aqueduct
in one night, to win the soul of a Segovian girl, and
how she cheated him by the legal quibble of finding
that a single stone was wanting.

We wished to go to the Parral, once the great
Geronimite convent, but being St. Jolm's Day we
were told there would be nobody to open it for us,
and that it was very doubtful if we could get in, even
on the following day. This was disappointing, the

The Parral. 149

Parral being one of the most curious and beautiful
things in Segovia ; but there was no help for it, so
we went round by St. Millan, an interesting old
church with cloisters outside, as is often seen in
Spain. Afterwards, H. being very tired, she was left
at the inn, while I went back to the Alcazar to sketch
the Cathedral.

It was singularly quiet and pleasant. I suppose
all the boys and other rabble of Segovia were occupied
with the horse fair ; for here nothing came near me,
except two or three goats, who were as overpower-
ingly friendly as goats always are, poked me with
their horns, jumped on the wall beside me, and looked
gravely at my drawing, as if criticising it, and finally
attempted to eat my colours, a proceeding which, in
the interest of the goats, as well as in mine, had to be
put a stop to. I sat there all the afternoon, till the
blue hills grew lilac, and the rich golden hue of the
Cathedral became brightest flame-colour; and then all
melted into pale rose and purple.

Next day hopes were held out that we might
possibly get into the Parral, so we started early and
were soon in the beautiful Alameda. Here our guide
left us, saying he was going to look for the key,
which was supposed to exist somewhere at the other
end of the town. Nearly an hour passed before he

150 A Summer in Spain.

returned, and we began to think some insurmountable
difficulty had arisen, and that he, weary of the
obstacles, had gone to amuse himself at the gipsy
fair. It was so pleasant, however, that we were not
inclined to grumble; all was deliciously cool, and
fresh, and green, with the pretty Eresma flowing
swiftly away, and the willows weeping into it. From
this point the view of the Alcazar, towering far up
into the sky, is perfectly superb.

At last the guide returned, having in the meantime
made an elaborate toilette, which was not altogether
superflous, as at first he had been ragged and exceed-
ingly dirty. With him came a most obliging and
polite Segovian gentleman, bearing the key. He was
a ''botanico," which in Spanish does not mean a
botanist, but an aj)othecary. He seemed an extremely
well-informed and cultivated man, and was head of
an archaeological society. The funds of this society
were very small indeed, and quite insufficient for the
objects they wished to accomj)lish; but on our ofi'er-
ing a donation in aid of it, it was politely but very
decidedly refused, on the ground that they, Spaniards,
could nut think of accepting the money of strangers
travelling through their country. It seemed very
odd to us, after living so long in Italy, where
strangers and their money are looked upon as natural

The Parral. 151

prey, to be snared to any amount. On casually men-
tioning the circumstance, without comment, to a
Eoman, he replied gravely, ''The Spaniards are bar-
barians, and all mad."

Even in its ruin, nothing can be more beautiful
than the Parral. Some time in the last half of the
fifteenth century, in the palmiest days of Spain, Juan
Marquis de Yillena had to fight a duel with three
antagonists, as the chronicle rather Irishly expresses
it. He had the skill and good luck to overcome them
all; and, to commemorate this feat, he founded the
Parral, which was finished soon after the taking of
Granada. He and his wife Maria lie buried here;
and their tombs of elaborately sculptured white
marble and alabaster are magnificent, having escaped
in a great measure the destruction that has befallen
the rest.

To this convent belonged the mountain-farm of La
Granja. Surely those monks must have been much
detested in Segovia; probably only because they were
rich and comfortable. The first thing the mob always
does in every one of the many revolutions that have
lately taken place, is to rush out to the Parral and
break something ; yet the Segovians seem a peaceable
set of people in general. Now it is kept carefully
locked up for fear of further mischief.

152 A Summer ifi Spain.

The kind " botanico " guided us through onfr
beautiful court after another, all ruined and grass-
grown, where exquisite pillars and cloisters and
sculptured tracery are mingled with flowering weeds.
We went up to the great balcony, or rather terrace,
above the river, from which the view is glorious, with
the stately Alcazar rising out of the masses of green
foliage. Some part of the Parral is now used as
a kind of poorhouse, several families of beggars
being allowed to live there. We were not how-
ever annoyed in any way, all the poor people
being out at their daily avocation of begging ; there
were no insects, and the rooms were perfectly clean,
though dilapidated and almost unfurnished ; a sack
of straw in one corner, a pot for cooking, and a rope
stretched across, on which their clothes were hung,
was the whole. Those clothes were a very extra-
ordinary spectacle ; most wonderful old cloaks, of
which it was difficult to conjecture the original colour
or fabric, patched with blue, brown, yellow, grey,
green, and black ; and over all a sort of mellow russet
nondescrij^t hue that was extremely picturesque. I
asked if they could not have found patches rather
more similar to each other, if not to the original stuff,
but was told that the beggars thought it looked much
better to have them all different. How said beggars

Vera Cruz. 15^,

got out and in, when the place was always locked, I
cannot imagine.

Our friendly archaeologist now asked us if we
would like to go into the Vera Cruz, the Templar
Church, which we had found closed the day before.
We accepted with alacrity, and he took us there by a
short cut ; the walk was very pleasant, across a dry
rocky field, where poppies and sweet-scented herbs
grew much at their own will. It was noon, and the
sun was hot, but the air had a fresh crispness in it
that our own beloved balmy Italy is without.

Inside the church there is a building two stories
high, which is said to be an exact model of the Holy
Sepulchre. As the church itself is very small, this
inner building fills it up almost entirely. Every-
where there is the Templar cross. There are some
curious inscriptions, one of them relating to the Ides
of April, 1240. The church was built in 1204.

In going back to the inn, we went into a very in-
teresting old Jewish synagogue, in a network of back
lanes. It dates from Moorish days, and is of course
no longer used as a synagogue, there being now no
Jews in Segovia.

"We bade adieu, with many thanks, to the obliging
Segovian who had shown us so much ; and I set off
alone to finish my sketch at the Alcazar. It was an

154 -^ Siwi?ner in Spain.

odd sensation to walk absolutely alone through this
strange Spanish town, finding my way as best I could.
Nobody annoyed me; nobody even looked at me,
except once when I stopped irresolutely where two
streets diverged ; then an old woman very politely
asked me what I was seeking ; and came with me a
little way, to put me on the right track. At the
Alcazar, I was even more undisturbed than on the
previous day, inasmuch as one goat and two dogs
were my only neighbours ; and they were too much
occupied making fun and chasing each other, to have
any leisui'e to spare for me.

Next evening, we had hoped to get to the Escorial,
but all the diligence-places were taken ; and even for
the following day the berlina was unattainable, and
we were obliged to content ourselves, as before, with
the whole coupe. Having this additional day, and
being in hopes that the bustle of St. John's fair was
nearly over, I resolved to attempt a sketch of the
aqueduct. It was no easy matter, however. There
were many idlers still hanging about ; and at no time
is a Spaniard unwilling to leave his work in order to
stare at a stranger, and esj)ecially at a lady sketcher.
Unluckily too, as often happens, the best view was
precisely in the most ineligible place. However, this
time I was provided with a guide, who, I hoped, would

Sketching under Difficulties. 155

keep people off, and H. was a host in herself, having a
peculiar and valuable talent for striking terror into-
boys. So I began boldly ; and while I was merely
drawing the pencil outline, which could be done
standing, I did not attract much attention, but when I
borrowed a chair from a shop, and sat down to colour,
my woes began. As long as the crowd consisted only
of those who took some real, though rather teasing
interest in what I was about, I did not much care,
and submitted patiently to tall youths standing between
me and the particular arch I was busied with, and
heavy girls leaning over and shaking my chair. But
when the whole street filled, and fresh hordes came-
pouring down each side-lane, the guide began to re-
monstrate, saying, " Spaniards ought not to behave so
rudely." " Si ; en la calle," (" Yes ; in the street"),
was the discriminating reply. This distinction i&
thoroughly Spanish ; I do believe each one of my
tormentors would have been politeness itself if I had
taken shelter in his house. But in the street it is
most true that the obligation of courtesy too often
ceases, as was the case here. Seeing therefore that
matters had become intolerable, I retreated into a shop,
and pulled the curtain (with which all Spanish shops
are provided) before me, holding it a little open with
one hand, while I drew with the other. It was-

156 A Sunmier in Spain.

certainly not the easiest imaginable way of accompli sh-^
ing a sketch that would have been difficult even under
more favourable circumstances. But, happily, the
crowd soon got tired of contemplating the curtain,
and dispersed sufficiently to allow me to venture out
again. The good-natured shopwoman now carefully
barricaded me with crockery; and when any boys
came near, rushed at them with a stick, saying they
were not to break her dishes.

In the afternoon, little Manuela took us to the
Provincial Museum, where there was a very miscel-
laneous collection of objects, old engravings of the
time of Louis Quinze, dedicated to " Monsieur le Due
de Choiseul," " Monseigneur Ic Cardinal de Eohan,"
and so on. They seemed oddly incongruous here,
among the grotesque figures of the Passion Plays, and
the wild dark fanatical saints, and horrible martyrdoms
of the Spanish school of painting. The most interest-
ing thing was one of the extraordinary granite bulls,
like those at Avila. Here they call them pigs ; and
said there had been originally a pair, and that they,
formerly stood in some Plaza or other, at the entrance
of an old house. This was " el Caballero, " they
said ; and " la Sefiora " had been sent to the Archae-
ological Museum in Madrid.

Afterwards, we went back to the Cathedral ta

Spanish Characteristics. 157

examine it in detail, and walked up and down the
cloisters, from which there is an exeellent view of the
whole building. In the sacristy they showed us a
splendid silver custodia, on wheels, very like the Car
of Juggernauth, on a smaller scale. Those custodias
are used for carrying the Holy Sacrament at the Fete
Dieu.

Towards sunset we made our way to the Alameda,
always beautiful ; but I think we liked it best earlier
in the day. The morning light seemed more cheerful
and brighter than even the glories of the setting sun.
In Spain it always is so ; there is no beauty and
freshness like that of dawn.

Next day we had a specimen of thoroughly Spanish
ways. H. had taken a fancy to a very tiny glass
tumbler, small enough to fit into her travelling-bag.
She wished to buy it ; but on asking the price, it was
instantly presented to her, and all payment absolutely
refused by our hostess. She also gave us some pretty
little devices of plaited paper, made by herself; they
ivere religious subjects, the Cross, the Emblems of
the Passion, etc., and were beautifully woven to-
gether.

We again mounted to our lofty places in the dili-
gence, and very hot it was. We almost regretted not
having come by night, and yet it would have been a

158 A Su?n?ner in Spain.

pity to miss that lovely drive through the wild pine-
forest and across the flowery Guadarrama. The slopes
were so entirely covered with the golden broom, that
the eye could scarcely bear the dazzling hue. The
snow on the road had, alas ! disappeared, and the
snow-fields above were perceptibly smaller. We got
on 25retty well, however, till we arrived at the railway
at Yillalba. Here, as the station was being painted,
and there was consequently no admittance, we had to
sit in a shed, sharing a bench with dead calves and
live bugs, dirty beggars and boorish peasants. Finally,
we had to cross the line, and stand a very long time
in the sun waiting for the train, which was greatly
behind time. When it did come, the carriages were
like ovens.

At last we arrived at the Escorial, hot, tired, dusty,
and thirsty beyond description ; and found rest, shelter,
and cold water in the clean and comfortable little
Fonda de la Miranda.

We had looked forward with fear and trembling to
this visit to the Escorial, having always understood
that one's sufferings from cold, dulness, and fatigue,
were to be appalling. Everybody, without exception,
rejoiced that they had "got it over;" and we had
never heard of anybody paying a second visit. So
next morning we screwed up our courage, and sallied

The Escorial. 159

forth manfully, resolved to go through with it and
dare the worst. We soon perceived that whatever
miseries from fatigue and dulness might be in store
for us, cold was not likely to add to them. We
crossed the white glaring road, and found ourselves
apparently in the court of an ash-coloured penitentiary
surrounded by buildings with small windoAvs, all
exactly alike, and all of the same ashen hue. " Those
are the houses of the ambassadors," said the guide.
For those ambassadors we felt intense compassion.

It was the custom in Spain, under the old regime,
that all the foreign ambassadors must follow the
Court wherever it went ; and after all, dull as those
pale grey houses looked, they were at least a place of
shelter ; whereas, at La Granja, it was exceedingly
difficult, even for the diplomatic body, to find lodgings
of any kind at any price. Of course, they had to take
their own furniture with them in every case ; beds,
kitchen utensils, everything. How very odd it
would seem in England, if all the foreign ambassadors
and envoys had always to go to Osborne and Balmoral
with the Queen ! But in Spain, in those days. Court
and ambassadors went to Aranjuez after Easter, stayed
till the heat began, then went to cool La Granja for
the summer months, and to the Escorial in autumn.

Once in the church all else is forgotten. Beautiful

i6o A Summer in Spain.

it is not, for beauty implies something pleasant to
look upon ; but surely it is one of the grandest edifices
ever planned by the mind of man. In its great size
and perfect proportions it recalls St. Peter's at Eome ;
but St. Peter's cold, and grey, and frozen, without
light, or life, or colour. Grander perhaps than St.
Peter's in its excessive plainness ; here there is no
bad taste, no meretricious ornament : but it is the
stern simplicity of death. It is like the strange wild
tales of the northern mythology, of journeys beyond
the Realm of Light, where there is no sun, no warmth,
no brightness, — to vast, dim halls in the Kingdom of
Silence, the very Twilight of the Gods.

There, beside the altar, kneels Charles the Fifth,
with his fair and saintly wife, Isabel of Portugal, and
their daughter Maria; there, too, are the sisters of
Oharles, JMaria and Eleanor, the latter of whom
married Prancis the First of France, after the death of
her first husband, the King of Portugal. On the
other side kneels Philip the Second, with three of his
wives : the first, Maria of Portugal, mother of Don
Carlos; the third, the lovely Isabella of France,
daughter of Catherine de Medicis, and mother of
Clara Eugenia Isabella, Philip's best-loved child ; and
lastly, Anna, the Austrian princess, who was mother
•of Philip the Third. Mary Tudor's stiff figure and

The Church. i6i

sour face is not among them ; because she was unloved,
it is said : yet the still less loved Don Carlos, Philip's
unhappy and hated son, is there. Truly, this is a
magnificent Temple of Death, ; but oh ! for a grave in
a churchyard beneath the blue sky, or a sculptured
stone in some quiet, sunny cloister, rather than all
this icy grandeur !

We turned from the kneeling figures of the mighty
dead, and went up to the choir, which is here a gallery
above the church, leaving the space below unbroken.
Here Philip the Second used to glide in like a spectre,
and seat himself among the monks, and here he
received the news of the victory of Lepanto. The
choir books are splendid specimens of illumination;
and the guide was most good-natured in allowing us
to spend as long a time as we liked over them ; he
even made no objection to my copying an initial
letter that particularly struck me. The bright little
daisies, and strawberries, and purple blossoms, looked
strange and out of place, imprisoned beneath this
sunless dome.

They showed us Benvenuto Cellini's celebrated
white marble crucifix. It is thought very fine, and
as far as workmanship goes, it certainly is so; and
one is greatly struck with the perfect finish and
graceful lines of the figure, after the rough-hewn,

1 62 A Summer in Spain.

angular Spanish sculpture. But after all, grace and
finish are not what one most wishes for in so sacred a
subject : the face has no divinity in it, nor is it even
a very sublime human type ; and I began to think
that perhaps the ghastly Spanish crucifixes, with all
their awful reality, were greater proofs of, and aids to
devotion than this smooth and perfectly well-executed
work of art.

This crucifix was sculptured in 15G2. In Ben-
venuto Cellini's autobiography he mentions how well-
satisfied he was with it (as indeed he generally was
with his own works); how he displayed it in his
studio, inviting everybody to come and see it ; how
Duke Cosimo di Medici and his Duchess came also,
and complimented Benvenuto much, who thereupon
ofi'ered to give it to the Duchess. Finally, however
he sold it to the Duke for 1500 crowns in gold, and
it was placed in the Pitti Palace in 15G5. In 1570
his son and successor, Duke Francesco, presented it to
Philip the Second. It was sent to Barcelona by sea,
and from thence carried on men's shoulders to the
Escorial. It is but natural that it should be so com-
pletely the reverse of all that is Spanish ; for what
could be more unlike than the gay Court of Florence
under the Medici, and that of Spain under Philip the
Second ?

Royal Sepulchres. 163

We now went down to the royal sepulclires.
Strange to say, this dwelling of the dead is decidedly
more cheerful than most other parts of the Escorial.
In its wealth of rich marble, it recalls a little the
Medicean Chapel in Florence, though on a smaller
scale. There is no decay, no neglect ; all is perfect,
in which respect it constrasts most favourably with
some other places of regal sepulture ; for instance,
with the pestiferous vault of the Capuchins in Vienna,
where the Imperial family are buried, and in which,
during the last century, smallpox lurked, and too
often carried off the visitor.

I scarcely wondered that the Spanish sovereigns
so delighted in descending into this peaceful vault to
contemplate their future resting-place. In the Es-
corial Death seems better and brighter than Life.

Here the great Emperor rests who reigned over
the widest and fairest realms of the earth, and who
ended his days like a monk at Yuste. German
legends tell how he is not dead nor buried, but sits in
a cave beneath the Unterberg, with Charlemagne and
Frederick Barbarossa, waiting to come forth, till
Germany shall be "free and united." But Germany
is free and united (tolerably so at least), and the cave
is still unopened; and in truth, I think, whatever
might be the opinion of Charlemagne and Frederick

M 2

164 A Summer in Spain.

Earbarossa on the subject, Charles the Fifth would
find a great gulf somewhere between the state of
modern Europe and the cell at Yuste.

The founder, Philip the Second, of coui-se is here,
with his fourth wife, the mother of his heir. The
beautiful Isabella of France, whom he loved with such
fierce jealousy, lies in the horrible Fudridero, as is the
fate of every Queen of Spain who was not also mother
of a king. All the little princes and princesses who
died in childhood, however dearly loved, are excluded
from this wholly regal burial-place, and all were
thrust into the Pudridero ; and not only those royal
children, but Don John of Austria, the Emperor's
gallant soldier-son, who won Lepanto.

Queen Isabella was very much shocked and dis-
tressed at this horrid state of things ; and when one of
her own children died, she could not bear the thoughts
of such a fate for the little babe : so, in concert with
the Duke de Montpensier, she began a new Pantheon,
as they call it, for the younger branches of the royal
family ; and there all the bodies at present in the
Pudiidero were to be decently interred. This good
work was put a stop to by the revolution ; and only
one monument was nearly completed when Amadous
was called to the throne. This one, oddly enough, is
that of a prince of the House of Savoy ; but what

Royal Sepulchres. 165

prince, or how lie came to be there at all, I could not
learn. They persisted in saying it was Emanuel
Philibert himself, he who won St. Quentin, in honour
of which victory the Escorial was built ; but this was
olearly impossible, he being, as is well known, buried
in the Cathedral of Turin. The prince who is buried
here certainly appears to have been called Philibert,
that name being inscribed on the tomb ; and he may,
possibly, have been husband of one of the Spanish
Infantas. One Philibert of Savoy, besides the hero of
St. Quentin, is connected with Spanish history ; but he
died long before Philip the Second was born, or the
Escorial thought of. This Philibert married the
young widow of Prince Juan, Ferdinand and Isabella's
only son, and died a few years after ; but there seems
no reason why he should have been buried in Spain
at all.

In the Pudridero is also buried the illegitimate son
of Louis the Fourteenth, the Duke de Yendome, who
died at Yinaroz, on the east coast of Spain, of eating
too much rich fish. Philip the Fifth, who owed his
throne to him, had the body brought to the Escorial,
in order to do him honour ; but surely any other
burial-place would have been better than this : and,
indeed, so little did Philip like the idea of it for him-
self, even in the royal vault, that by his own

1 66 A Summer in Spain.

directions he was buried in the little chapel at his
beloved La Granja. All the other sovereigns of
Spain, from Charles the Fifth downwards, are buried
in the Escorial, except Ferdinand the Sixth.

"We now proceeded to the Library, a most beautiful
hall, in the style of the Vatican Library. The frescoes
on the wall are curious, the subject being the different
arts and sciences. Eloquence is represented by some-
body di'awing people after him by cords coming out
of his mouth ; music, by Orpheus subduing the beasts,
who are all on their knees before him ; grammar, by
Nebuchadnezzar founding the first grammar-school,
a fact concerning xhat monarch of which I was pre-
viously ignorant. We saw here Charles the Fifth's
camp-stool, under a glass case ; which glass case is a
lantern ox f anal of gigantic size, taken at Lepanto.

The manuscripts are, most of them, kept locked up.
The Arabic ones are said to be particularly fine ; and
among them is the whole library of a king of Morocco.
In another hall is the celebrated Last Supper, by
Titian ; beside it is a very good Tintoretto, Queen
Esther fainting before Ahasucrus. There is another
good picture by Tintoretto, Christ at Supper in the
Pharisee's house. Further on, in a different room, is
a masterpiece of Luca Giordano, Balaam and his Ass.
In general, I am not very partial to Luca Giordano's

Courts and Gardens. 167

paintings ; they are usually too slight and showy. But
this one is excellent ; the donkey is perfect, with an
expression of shrewdness and intelligence that makes
it seem not at all surprising that he should speak, and
speak to the purpose, too.

^\q pendant to this' is, Noah drunk, also by Luca
Giordano, and very good, though we preferred the
Ass. There is also a good Velasquez, the Sons of
Jacob bringing him Joseph's bloody garment. The
other fine pictures have all been moved to the Museum
at Madrid, where we had already seen them.

We could not be admitted to the royal apartments,
because they were being prepared for the Queen and
the little Princes, who were at that time expected to
spend the summer at the Escorial, a plan with which
political events soon interfered. We were allowed,
however, to go through as many of its thirty-six
courts as we wished. Some are little quiet cloisters,
most unlike a royal palace ; one is a large garden, with
quaintly clipped box-trees ; others are grey, ashen,
colourless squares, where one would naturally expect
to see convicts at work, and to be told it was a new
model prison.

In the afternoon we walked down to the gardens,
which are pretty, but rather hot and shadeless on the
28th of June. Here also is a little toy-palace, which

1 68 A Simimcr in Spain.

might be made comfortable in winter, but is too
small for summer Some of the rooms are furnished
with most elaborate needlework ; one in particular
is hung round with a scries of embroidered pictures,
in old-fashioned satin stitch. Those were really very
beautiful, but the amount of labour was painful to
think of. They were worked by a " caballero" — a
Spanish gentleman — we were told, who had devoted
many years to it. A strange life and occupation.

We then walked back through the long avenues
much more quickly than our guide at all liked. He
said it was always so with the English ; they went
along, never looking as if they were in a hurry, while
he ran and panted behind them. Though not par-
ticularly active, he was an exceedingly intelligent
man, who greatly deplored that Spain was, as he
phrased it, "with its paws upwards" — ''Has patas
arriha^'' this being a Spanish expression which means
topsy-turvy. He had this further peculiarity, that
he was the only person in Spain whom we ever heard
speak well of King Amadous. By his account, how-
ever, both King and Queen were much liked at the
Escorial. He added, "In this place we are not like
other Spaniards ; we are always satisfied with the
sovereign." I could not learn from what this eccen-
tricity arose.

Back to Madrid. 169

We returned to Madrid in the evening, and found
the thermometer at 88° Fahrenheit in our room at
night. "We had also the disadvantage of finding out
how much noise Spanish lungs can make. Everybody
except ourselves had, probably, been asleep all day,
and awoke, refreshed and strengthened, just as we
arrived. The whole night did the shouting, singing,
and driving about last ; at length, after dawn, there
was about an hour's peace.

TText day, unfortunately for us, was " San Pedro;"
•so, after toiling along the Alcala in the broiling sun-
shine, we found that all banks were closed. We had
never thought of St. Peter's Day, and began to fear we
should be detained in Madrid. Our landlord, how-
ever, obligingly changed money for us, and we secured
our places in the diligence for Granada.

I70

CHAPTER YII.

Journey to Granada — "Fikst Visit to the Alhambra — Arabic
Inscriptions — Legends — Cathedral — Gipsy Town — San
Nicholas — Pigs — Caktdja — Casa de Tiros — Genekalife
— Oleanders — Garden of the Adarves.

Madrid was now like a fiery furnace, though, why it
should have been so hot I cannot understand, as the
thermometer in the shade never rose above 88° Fahren-
heit, and was seldom more than 85°. But the sun
blazed with a fierceness far beyond anything we had
ever met with in Italy, and crossing the street was a
serious matter. However, we could have borne the
blinding splendoui* of the day ; but the heat and
noise of the nights were almost unendurable. With
closed windows, we were suffocated ; with open ones,
deafened : so that we hailed with delight the prospect
of a night spent peacefully in a diligence, and longed

Jom^ney to Granada. 171

impatiently to begin our twenty-seven hours
journey.

At 6 A.M., on the 1st of July, we left the hotel : the
people were still asleep on the streets, on doorsteps,
anywhere ; and in truth they must have slept much
more comfortably than we had. The air was cool
and fresh, though July had come ; the Prado had
not yet lost its spring-like greenness, and oleanders
had taken the place of roses. Altogether, Madrid
was looking very charming, and we gazed regretfully
at the Museum, and wondered if we should ever
again behold those marvels of art, the masterpieces
€f Velasquez and Murillo.

Away we went, still looking back to Madrid, of
which much the finest view is to be seen from the
railway, in going southwards. When we had passed
our old friend Aranjuez, the country was new to us,
and we began to look about with interest \ but no-
thing whatever of any kind was to be seen, only a
brown plain. On, on we went ; still the same
dreary, interminable plain. IsTow we were in La
Mancha, which the Spaniards say means a spot^ a
blot upon the face of the country. The stm blazed
hotter and hotter ; hour after hour, the fierce heat,
the blinding light, the tawny plain, shadowless,
treeless, tenantless ; a desert without grandeur. The

172 A Su7nmer in Spain,

"windmills were some alleviation, for Don Quixote's
sake ; and indeed we could not but think of him, as
he started also on a hot July morning, and rode all
■day on his first quest of adventures. Moreover, said
vrindmills were not at all like English ones ; they
really did look a little like giants with lance in rest.
But after seven or eight hours of this, the wind-
mills failed to interest us; the burning atmosphere
seemed to produce stupor, and even the water brought
to the stations in porous jars had lost all coolness.
Yainly did the vendors call out, " Water ! water !
who wants fresh water ? " We all wanted it, but it
proved a tepid fluid when we got it.

At last, we came to some low hills that screened
us from the sun; we roused ourselves, and looked
out ; the dreary plain was past, and, as far as the eye
could reach, we beheld a flush of brightest rose
colour ; the wild oleanders, covering miles and miles
with brilliant blossom. A little clear stream was
gushing merrily along, the low hills were purple in
the sinking sunlight ; and we were in Andalusia.

Soon it grew dark, and we fell asleep ; as it seemed
to me, only for a moment. Presently, I awoke, in
utter darkness ; for in Spain they rarely light lamps
in the railway carriages. We stopped at a station,
and, scarcely knowing why, I put out my head and

jfourney to Granada. 173

lazily asked where we were. " Menjibar," where
we were to leave the train, and take the diligence.
Now, if I had not accidentally inquired the name of
the station, we should inevitably have been whirled,
or rather, dragged slowly (Spanish trains don't whirl)
on to Cordova, nobody troubling themselves about
the matter. The last thing that would occur to a
Spanish official would be to open the carriagcrdoor,
or call the name of the station, even at an important
junction. Everybody and everything in Spain is
left to get on as best they can • and it is astonishing
how seldom matters go very far wrong. There is, at
any rate, a total freedom from interference ; you are
never told that anything is against the laws; you
are never locked in, either in carriage or waiting-
room ; you cross the line, walk along it, jump out
and in, and nobody finds fault. Petty regulations and
worrying red-tapeism are utterly foreign to the
Spanish character. According to their ideas, if any-
body wishes to run into danger, it is tyrannical to
prevent them ; and I got quite to enjoy this lawless
state of things. At first we were horrified at the
idle people and beggars who had free access to the
stations ; but we found this had its advantage. There
was always a boy at hand, ready to earn a few coppers.
by carrying small hand-packages ; and, strange as it

174 ^ Summer in Spahi,

may seem, nothing was ever stolen or lost, tliough
the beggars wandered, unchecked, among the luggage.
One only law of any kind did I see respected in Spain :
on almost all the lines there is a carriage set apart for
ladies ; and, so inviolably is it kept that, if there are
no ladies in the train, this carriage goes empty,
although they may leave male passengers behind, for
want of room. This makes it very comfortable for
ladies travelling alone ; and, as few Spanish ladies do
travel alone, the result, in our case, was that
we usually had it all to ourselves, and could change
our seats as the sun's rays pursued us. The
other carriages, on the contrary, are generally ex-
tremely crowded, and always full of tobacco smoke.

We got out of the train into nearly total darkness,
and had the utmost difficulty in finding the diligence,
it being nobody's business to show us the way. At
last, we descried a black object looming in the dark,
were shoved into the berlina, and away we went, as it
seemed, much faster than the railway. Spanish
diligences invariably go as fast as they can, and that
is often at a tearing pace ; whereas the trains dawdle
in a most unaccoimtable manner, not only stopping
at all stations, but still more frequently in the midst
of a desert, where there is no station at all.

Once in the diligence, nothing could be more com-

yourney to Granada. 175

fortable. We had taken the whole berlina, and thus-
had three places for two people; and indeed there
might easily haye been room for four, so commodious
was it. The road was excellent, and so were our ten
mules, which were changed every two hours. There
was never a moment's delay ; the mules were waiting
on the road, and in an instant we were off again^
whirling along in the moonlight. The scenery seemed
fine, and we had a dim vision of a river flowing on
its way to Cordova and Seville — the Guadalquivir,
The only stoppage was at Jaen, where we arrived at
1 A.M., and spent half an hour, finding delicious
chocolate and Savoy biscuits ready for us. We re-
gretted not seeing the cathedral ; had we come a
fortnight earlier, we could have done so, as the dili-
gence goes by day in winter and spring ; in summer,
as the heat would be unbearable, it goes by night.
So we had to pass in the dark the place where
the King of Morocco, the Miramolin, retreated
after his defeat at Tolosa. It was at Jaen, too, that
Ferdinand the Fourth of Castile died; he who,
having condemned two brothers to death, without
sufficient evidence, was summoned by them to appear,,
within thirty days, before the throne of God, to
answer for this injustice. He died within the time,
and was therefore called " The Cited One." Some

176 A S^unmer in Spain.

commentators of Dante have thought it was to him,
and not to Alonso the Wise, that the poet alluded,
in the passage where he blames a Spanish sovereign
for negligence in the affairs of life.

Off we went again ; and now we felt that we were
really on our way to the southern land of Moorish
romance. We gazed eagerly onwards; but we saw
little except the silvery distance, and the road with its
ivory light and ebony shade. Then light and shadow
and silver distance confused themselves in an odd way
in my brain, and I slept ; slept long and sound.

When I awoke, it was broad daylight, and we were
scampering along through a wild and rather dreary
country, all little stony valleys and bare ridges of rock.
Now I was exceedingly glad that IT. was still asleep,
for our mode of progression, though probably perfectly
safe, did not look so. In Spain there is always a
horse before the eight or ten mules ; on this horse the
postilion rides, or ought to ride, and we had been
especially warned on no account to permit the said
postilion to leave his proper place. But how were
we to prevent him ? Here he was, sitting calmly
beside the driver, enjoying a refreshing sleep, and
paying no attention whatever to the eleven animals
that, with ears laid back, were tearing up hill and
down dale, turning sharp corners, and skirting preci-

yourney to Granada. 177

pices which, though not very deep, were quite suffi-
ciently so to kill us if the diligence went over. It
was, I well knew, useless to alarm myself or H., and
worse than useless to remonstrate. There is no good
in giving commands that cannot be enforced, so I re-
signed myself to fate, and really it was wonderful how
well we got on. The mules, even at full gallop, were
as cautious as possible ; and I soon saw that they
were quite as intelligent as the postilion, and much
more careful. Up we went, never ascending a very
steep hill, and sometimes even descending a little
way; still on the whole it was pretty steadily up,
through scenery less dreary, but not beautiful.

At last, we saw sharp, cold, blue peaks rising before
ns, with more snow on them than one usually sees in
a Spanish July. They were less white than I expected,
or could have wished ; but they were the Sierra
Nevada, and Granada lay between us and them.

Kow we gained the top of the ridge, and looked
down on Granada, with its Yega ; the mayoral turned
round, and pointing to a huge, stern fortress, said,
■*'The Alhambra ! " It was a strange sensation; I
have felt nothing like it since we glided into Venice,
one starlight night, long ago. Once before, I felt the
same, still longer ago, when we first crossed the Tiber
on our way to Eome. Nor shall I ever again feel the
like until I see Jerusalem. n

1/8 A Summer in Spaiti.

As the red towers grew more distinct, it was
certainly very unlike what I expected. I had
thought only of the little boudoir-like fragment at
Sydcnliam, which gives about as comprehensive an
idea of the whole as an oakleaf does of an oak. At
the distance at which we were, the Moorish fortress
looked like a sn^all fortified town of the lower Apen-
nines ; when we drew nearer, it resembled Bergamo,
the Alhambra being like tlie upper town, on a small
scale, and Granada the lower suburb, on a very large
one. But the Yega is far richer than the Lombard
plain ; and the snow-streaked mountains are so very
near Granada, and moreover so exceedingly steep,
that they look even more than their height — 8000
feet above the sea, and about 5000 above the Vega.

We lost sight of the view as we descended ; and
got entangled in a wilderness of olives, orange-trees,
agaves, Indian figs, and, above and beyond all,
oleanders. It was less hot than we had feared ; the
air was fresh and light, quite unlike the burning
atmosphere of Madrid, or the dusty Escorial. Not
but AA'hat there was dust enough here, too, as the
whitened leaves and flowers on each side testified;
but it lay peaceably on the road and annoyed
nobody.

It must be confessed that the entrance to Granada,

Arrival at Granada. 179

■coming from the north, is not the best view of the
town ; and we felt rather disappointed at first. It
was dusty, and exceedingly dirty ; the air had lost its
morning freshness, and the streets looked mean com-
pared with lordly Toledo. The houses, as is usually
the case in Spain, except in Madrid, are very low,
only two stories: the little, low doors, and almost
windowless walls, give them a dull appearance ", and,
in this part of Granada, there are no Moorish remains.
I am not sure that we did not sigh for our leafy
retreat at La Granja.

The diligence stopped at the Hotel Victoria, in the
town; and we were wondering how we were to get
ourselves and our property up to the Alhambra ;
when, to our relief we heard, " Siete Suelos, ma'am ? "
in a very English voice. " Siete Suelos," assented I
gladly ; and soon we were in a carriage, driving
towards the Alhambra. " That ditch is a decided
disadvantage to the town," said H., looking into what
guide-books call " the gushing Darro." However,
the tumble -down houses leaning over it were certainly
very picturesque, and at the end of the street rose the
blue Sierra.

We now entered a large, irregular Plaza, with a
Tiandsome palace of the time of Charles the Fifth ; we
"Crossed the Plaza, and began to ascend a very steep

i8o A Sununer in Spain,

street, ill-paved and exceedingly hot. I shut my
eyes, to avoid the overpowering glare ; to ray sur^msc
a cold, moist wind blew freshly round us. I looked
up ; a mountain of foliage rose before us ; we passed
through a gateway, and found ourselves in a long,
dim, green avenue. Immensely tall elms met in an
arch high overhead, like some great cathedral-aisle ;
long trails of ivy hung from the highest trees, and
nearly touched the top of the carriage. I^o ray of
sunlight penetrated the deep shade as we went slowly
up towards the Alhambra.

The Hotel Siete Suelos is most delightfully situated
"between the Alhambra and Gencralife ; the trees
grow almost against the windows, and before it is a
fountain, whose cool plashing is delicious in the hot
hours. At first we were so pleased to find ourselves
there, really and truly within these charmed precincts,
that it seemed as if we scarcely cared at that moment to
penetrate further. Besides this, we were rather tired
with our journey, which had proved nearer twenty -
nine hours than twenty-seven. So we went to break-
fast, thinking contentedly of the wondi'ous ^\j"ab
palace now so near us. From the window of my
room I could almost touch the Siete Suelos Tower,
inhabited, as the legends say, by a headless horse and
a pack of hounds, who rush out, baying, at midnight.

First Visit to the Alhambra. iSi

Certainly, we heard a good deal of barking of dogs at
night, but I think the only inhabitants of the haunted
dwelling were a cat and her five kittens. It was
from this tower that Boabdil issued forth when for
the last time he left his lovely Alhambra. The towers
and walls are in perfect preservation, and surrounded
by a jungle of pomegranates now in full blossom.

After breakfast we went out, in spite of fatigue,
and asked the way to the Alhambra. It was pointed
out to us, and we walked up under the elms. We
soon got to the unfinished palace of Charles the Fifth,
of which the outside is square and the inside round.
It is too low to be handsome, but the dark warm
brown of the stone has a good effect. The myrtle
hedges were delicious, with sweet- scented blossoms
peeping out here and there. At the end rose grand,
reddish-tinted towers, guarded by soldiers ; we sup-
posed this to be the palace of the Moorish kings, and
looked longingly at it. But the first time one goes
to the " Arab Palace," as it is called, one must see it
all in due form with the guide, and for this we were
much too tired. Besides, we wished first to present
our letter of introduction to the Governor, and get
permission to sketch and to wander about as we liked ;
and as the visit to the Governor would have to be
paid in polite Spanish, to this also we felt unequal.

1 82 A Simwier in Spain.

So, after resting a little on a bench nncler an oleander^
we went up to the Moorish '"'• "Well of the Algives,'^
where the donkeys come, and carry most picturesque
jars full of cold, clear water down into the town.
Underneath the level space at the toj^ of the Alham-
bra hill all is hollow. A great cistern, like a cathe-
dral crypt, is full of the water from the mountain
source of the Darro ; it contains enough to last a year,
and is cleaned out always in January. The water is
certainly delicious, excelling even that of Eio Frio, and
the well is constantly surrounded by wonderfully pictur-
esque groups. We admired the curious Torre del Yino,
with its beautiful arch ; and then went down to the
grander Gate of Justice, ''the Gate of the Law," as the
Moors called it. Here, under Moslem rule, the Cadi, or
Alcayde, sat and administered justice; and here above
the arch is the celebrated " open hand," the protecting
talisman of the Alhambra. Above the inner arch is
the key, also a talismanic symbol. As in all other
Moorish gateways, one does not pass straight through,
but, after entering, one turns to the right, and goes
out by the side of the tower. This is an Oriental
arrangement, to make the entrance more complicated.
Then we went up and looked down on the Albaycin,
the old Moorish town, gleaming white in the sunshine,
and still whiter when the sun went down. But after

First Visit to the Alhambra. 183

dinner we were glad to go to bed, and leave even the
glories of sunset on the Yega.

l^Text morning we called on Don Eafael Contreras,
the Governor, who kindly gave us unlimited permis-
sion to do whatever we liked. On our way to his
house we asked the boy who guided us, " Is that the
Arab Palace ? " pointing to the tall red towers. IsTo ;
that was the Alcazaba, the prison. " It had always
been a prison ; and there was the Torre de la Vela,"
pointing to one where a bell hung. " "Where then
was the Arab Palace ? " " There," pointing to
Charles the Fifth's. " But the Moorish one ? " said I
doubtfully. " Yes;" this time indicating a thicket of
oleanders. " But where is the entrance ? " Still the
oleanders were pointed out, where there was only a little
low wall, and no palace. So I asked the Governor's
servant, who pointed quite in a different direction,
into a myrtle hedge on the other side of Charles the
Fifth's Palace, where one could perceive no building
of any kind. It was puzzling ; surely it could not be
so very difficult to find ; so we walked up and down
and round and round in vain, till I began to think the
genii of the place had rendered it invisible.

At length we condescended to take a small boy
with us. I thought that after the fashion of those
imps of darkness, Spanish boys, he was leading us all

184 A Suvwier in Spain.

wrong ; for he first took us alongside of Charles the
Fifth's palace, where I knew there was no other
entrance ; only the low mud wall and the clump of
oleanders. Next, regardless of my remonstrances, he
plunged into that same palace, where we had already
been, and in which we knew there was nothing ta
see; and then proceeded to dive into the bowels of the
earth ! I really thought this was to turn out a stupid
practical joke, if not worse, and very nearly refused
to go on. But just then an official with a gold band
round his hat appeared (at least, his hat did) as
through a trap-door, and motioned us to advance.
We did so, and found a flight of steps going down
apparently into the earth ; but the friendly official,
and the still more friendly aj)parition of a pleasant-
looking grey cat, encouraged us to proceed. "We ran
down the steps, and instead of finding ourselves, as I
had feared, in a dark cellar, we were in the Palace of
Boabdil ! In the Court of Myrtles, with its hedges
of fragrant leaves and white starry blossoms, enclos-
ing the pale green water trembling in the golden
lisht: and before us the slim colonnades and lace-like
fretwork, so strange and yet so familiar.

Away we wandered to the Court of Lions, to the
Hall of the Dos Hermanas, and looked into Lin-
daraja's garden ; then into the Hall of Justice, with

First Visit to the Alhambra. 185,

its solemn portraits of turbaned and bearded Moors
sitting in council ; to the Hall of the Abencerrages,
where the dark red stains by the fountain recall a
bloody tale ; up to the Tocador de la Eeyna, and
looked out at the Sierra Nevada, and the Generalife
among its cypresses. Then, down through light, pil-
lared galleries, with wondrous glimpses of the outer
world; down, down into the dim bath-rooms, all rich
gold and crimson and blue ; up again into still, sunny
courts, full of bright orange-trees and tall, dark cy-
presses ; then into the mosque where Boabdil wor-
shipped. And ever that forest of slender columns, and
those marvellous arches, all pale yellow in the July
sunshine ! At last we found ourselves in the Hall of
Ambassadors, with its glorious views of Vega, Sierra,
and mountain valley, and the exquisite frame of those
lovely pictures ! But who can describe the Alham-
bra ? It is the one thing on earth in which di;iap-
pointment is impossible — the great Wonder of the
World.

When we left it that day, and stood once more in
the half-built modern palace, it seemed as if this
lovely Arabian dream had vanished, swallowed up in
the common-place, work-a-day earth. We could
scarcely believe tliat we might come back and back^
as often as we pleased, and still find it again.

1 86 A Su?nmer m Spain.

Many a long, bright summer day did we spend
there ; sitting with books and drawing materials under
the colonnade in the Court of Lions ; or, when it grew
too hot there, in the Ilall of Ambassadors, which, with
its unglazed windows to north, east, and west, and its
seventy feet of height, could never be otherwise than
perfectly cool. At all hours, in the early morning, at
midday, and even by moonliglit, "we went out and in
as we pleased. Always beautiful, I think it was less
so by moonlight than at any other time ; at noon, it
seemed to us the most enchanting. One peculiarity
of the Alhambra is, however, that everybody always
thinks they themselves have seen it in its greatest
perfection. Often have we been told, " Oh ! but you
should have seen it in spring -when the violets are out,
and the nightingales are singing, and the Sierra Nevada
is white as the Alps." It is indeed a melancholy fact
that the violets were over, and the nightingales silent,
by the time we arrived ; but one cannot have every-
thing ; if wc had had violets, we should not have had
oleanders nor mjT-'tle blossom : and the strange dreami-
ness, the oriental charm of the Alliambra seems to
demand the hottest blaze of July sun ; then one feels
all the luxury of its great, cool halls, and shady
colonnades. Winter must, I should think, be much
too oold at Granada; and autumn, with its falling

Arabic Inscriptions. 187

leaves and its storms, is like a note out of tune : all
decay, all fading, all imperfection, jars on one
here.

Two things particularly struck us in the Alhambra ;
namely, its great size and its perfect preservation. We
had expected to see an exquisite little ruin ; instead of
which, here was a very large palace in excellent
repair. In a week it could be made habitable, and
perfectly comfortable ; and as to size, besides the great
Hall of Ambassadors, there is the Court of Myrtles,
a hundred and fifty feet long, and the Court of Lions,
more than a hundred ; and yet they look small,
compared with the whole. The restorations are now
most skilfully made ; the greatest attention being paid
to correctness in the Arabic inscriptions. This was
not formerly the case ; in the bath-room, which was
restored about forty years ago, there are some inac-
curacies, the restorer not having been an Arabic
scholar, and having regarded the Cufic letters as
mere ornamentation, without meaning. In particular,
the letter wz, in Jumna^ or '^ felicity," is omitted,
thereby making absolute nonsense.

The profusion of those Arabic inscriptions, and the
curious way in which they are woven into ornamental
patterns, is very remarkable. Some are obvious at
the very first glance ; and one soon gets so accustomed

1 88 A Siuniner in Spai?i.

to the forms of the letters, that without any knowledge
whatever of the language, one recognizes the frequent
repetitions of, for instance, " There is no conqueror
but God."

"We were fortunate enough to be acquainted with an
excellent Arabic scholar in Granada, who kindly came
with us sometimes to the Alhambra, to show us how
to read the inscriptions. Every part of it is covered
with writing : some in letters so large that half-a-dozen
of them cover a whole wall ; some so small as to be
almost invisible : some in the modern cursive Arabic ;
others in the old Cufic character, which bears about
the same resemblance to the modern as black-letter
does to the English of the present day. I do not
think the Cufic character is ever used in merely
poetical and secular incriptions ; it was probably
considered too sacred. The peculiarity of these Cufic
letters is their squareness and angular form, as distin-
guished from the flowing curves of the modern
writing. It is, at first, much more difiicult to
distinguish from mere ornamentation, as it often looks
like geometrical tracery ; and besides, the words are
inverted and bent together at the corners, much in the
style of monograms on letter-paper. But we at
length learnt to decipher them ; and one of our great
pleasures was to look for inscriptions in the most out-

Arabic hiscriptions. 1^9

of-the-way places, high up on the roof, on capitals of
pillars, on azulejos, everywhere. I do believe they
are inexhaustible ; oiu' kind friend, who had spent
four years in the Alhambra studying those inscriptions,
one day, when with us, found a tiny one that he had
never before observed.

It is like a fairy tale ; as, indeed, everything in the
Alhambra is. You look at a wall, thinking it covered
with beautiful but meaningless ornament ; gradually,
flowers and leaves seem to bud and blossom before
you, and finally they arrange themselves into
words of welcome to man, or of praise and glory
to God. "Blessing." "Felicity." "There is
no conqueror but God." " God is our refuge
in every trouble." Such was the Theism of the
Arabs.

I need not say that the name of Mahomet is never
mentioned, though that of Muhamed Abu Alahmar,
the founder of the Alhambra, occui's in some of the
merely secular inscriptions, written in the cursive
character. He was born at Arjona, in the year of the
Hegira, 591 (a.d. 1195), and was not of the royal line
of the Caliphs. He was of the noble family of Beni
Naser, and began life as Alcayde of Arjona and Jaen.
Afterwards he took advantage of the troubled state of
affairs, and, in 1238, got himself proclaimed King of

igo A Siwmier in Spain.

Oranada. Though a usurper in the first instance, he
seems to have been an excellent sovereign : building
hospitals for sick, old, and poor ; and also schools and
colleges. He used to delight in visiting the schools
and hospitals unexpectedly, as Haroun al Easchid
did at Bagdad. He also established shambles and
public bakeries, and had the prices and quality of the
food constantly inspected. It was he also who brought
in the streams of rushing water that still make a
paradise of the Vega. We used often to watch the
irrigation of the Generalife. The perfect simplicity
of the system is probably what has made it last so long,
as it can scarcely get out of order. The gardeners
merely placed or displaced a stone or a little
earth with a sort of hook, or sometimes with their
feet, and the little runnels turned in this direction or
in that.

The only blot on jVIuhamcd's reign was the dis-
graceful treaty by which he agreed to help St.
Ferdinand to conquer Seville. It is true that he could
not well do otherwise ; or Granada must have fallen
then, as it did two centuries and a half later. And
in that case the world would never have possessed the
Alhambra, it being on his return from his expedition
with St. Ferdinand, against Seville, that he began
this fairy fabric. But it was the unhappy dissensions

The Founders of the AIha?nbra. igi

among the petty Moorish kings that finally involved
them all in destruction.'

Muhamed, however, having once, though un-
willingly, made the treaty with St. Ferdinand, kept
it faithfully, and even chivalrously. His reign was
long, and, in all else, prosperous. He died in his
eightieth year, and was buried in a silver coffin in the
Alhambra.

This Palace, which loolis as if it had risen from the
ground at the stroke of an enchanter's wand, really,
like the aloe, took a hundred years to come to perfec-
tion. It was finished by Yousouf, who came to the
throne in 1333. So mild and benign was he, that he
took especial pains to prohibit wanton cruelty in war,
enjoining his soldiers not only to spare, but to protect
all women, children, the old, and the infirm, and
especially all friars and persons " of holy and recluse
life." I am afraid his Christian adversaries would
scarcely have done as much.

More patriotic, though less wise than Muhamed,
he joined the King of Fez against Alonzo the
Eleventh of Castile ; and was defeated at the great
battle of Salado, near Tarifa, which gave a crushing
blow to the Moslem power in Spain. Cannon, made
at Damascus, are said to have been used on this
occasion.

192. A Summer in Spain.

Yoiisouf built the Puerta de Justicia, and finished
the whole palace in 1348. His name also occurs in
the inscriptions on the walls.

Strange to say, this mild and beneficent sovereign
was murdered as he was praying in the mosque of the
Alhambra ; being stabbed by a madman.

During July and August, our long afternoons here
were most delicious, spent in those airy halls, reading
the old Spanish ballads, the Eomanceros and Can-
cioneros, which tell of the Moorish and Clu'istian
feats of ancient days, of tom^naments and bull -fights,
and gallant knights and beauteous ladies, of love
and war and bloodshed, — till the Dreamworld seemed
the real one, and it felt quite strange to go back
to the hotel and be ofi'ered the ' Times ' and the
' Siecle.'

Here also we read Washington Irving' s delightful
tales. Most of the legends he mentions are really
believed in by the people to this day. They are
quite convinced that all tortoise-shell cats are Moorish
princesses in disguise, who will one day resume their
human shape ; they are therefore much prized, and a
tortoise-shell kitten is always reared, and treated vsdth
the utmost respect. I am not sure that they al-
together believe in the enchanter who sits among
his treasures below the Siete Suelos Tower, or the

To77ib of Ferdinand and Isabella. 1 9

myrtle wreaths that become emerald and pearl ;
but "when the trees take strange shapes in the
moonlight, they rather think that the topmost
branches are Moorish and Christians Knights on
horseback, fighting in the air. Here Earth and
Air are indeed haunted.

It would have been pleasant to stay always within
this charmed boundary, and never go down to
Granada at all. But there are many interesting
things to be seen there ; so one morning we started
early and went to the Cathedral, a large building,
supposed to be classical, and not quite so ugly as I
expected. But when one thinks of the wonders of
Spanish architecture, not only of Burgos, Toledo, and
Avila, which are much older, but of Segovia, which
was built about the same time, one is struck with
amazement at the bad taste which could erect such a
thing as this. In the centre of the church, above
the choir, there is a flattened arch, of which the
natives of Granada are very proud ; it really is
curious.

The most interesting thing in the church is the
resting-place of Ferdinand and Isabella. She died far
away, at dreary Medina del Campo, in old Castile ;
but was brought to Granada for burial. The white
marble monuments are magnificent. On one lie Ferdi-

194 -^ Su7nmer in Spain.

nand and Isabella ; her head weighs down the pillow,
while that of Ferdinand rests on it without making
any impression : the Spaniards say it is because she
had more brains. On the other sepulchre lie Philip
the Handsome (whose effigy has no particular beauty,
after all) and poor Juana : Philip tui-ns his head away
from his unloved wife ; characteristic also !

They are buried in the vault below, in rude plain
coffins. The bodies have never been disturbed, and
Philip's coffin is the same that Juana watched so long
and would never part with. In one corner is that of
little Prince Miguel of Portugal, the boy who was
thi'own from his pony in a square here in Granada,
and killed ; had he lived, he would have reigned over
both countries, and thereby accomplished that union
which has been ever the dream of the Spaniards, and
the dread of the Portuguese.

We came back by the Alcaiceria, the Moorish bazaar,
almost unaltered since the days of Boabdil ; and then
passed through the Zacatin, in whose name wo again
trace the Arabic Zac^ a marketplace. It is a narrow,
picturesque street, full of shops, where there seemed
little but shoes and rather coarse silver ornaments.
These two streets are too narrow for carriac:es, so one
walks in great comfort. Here, for the first time,
awnings over the streets began to appear ; and indeed

The Gipsy Quarter. 195

they are very necessary, as it is not the custom, in
this part of Spain, to use a parasol. When we did so,
the people always called to us that it was not raining !
Now, as umbrellas were originally introduced into
England from Spain, it is remarkable that the natives
of such a very sunny and almost rainless climate have
not adapted the invention to keeping off the rays of
the sun. In England, at first, umbrellas were as much
laughed at as parasols are at the present day in Spain.

Another day we took a guide, and went off to the
gipsy quarter. "We wished to walk, but the guide
would not hear of anything so beneath his dignity ;
not to mention the fatigue. So away we rumbled, in
a most extraordinary vehicle, something between an
omnibus and a vetturino carriage ; the roads were like
dry, stony watercourses, and frequently the sharp
turns and the precipices would have been startling,
had we not been prepared for any amount of queerness.
I am rather surprised we were not upset.

The gipsy quarter, on the opposite side of the Darro
from the Alhambra, is wonderfully beautiful, and ex-
ceedingly odd. The gipsies live underground, in
caves covered with thickets of prickly pears, of which
the fruit is said to be the best of the kind in Granada,
owing to the heat of the houses. Most of the gipsy
aristocracy are blacksmiths, who keep up a large fire ;

196 A Summer in Spain.

besides -which, the sun beats on those slopes all day-
long : so, what with the heat above and the heat below,
the fruit is forced into a size and juiciness quite re -
markable. "We were told tliat at night those gipsy
caves look absolutely demoniacal, with the red fire-
light coming out of the ground, and the swarthy
figures of the inhabitants flitting about ; but we never
had courage to venture there after dark.

No carriage can enter this quarter, the road being
too narrow ; so we were obliged to get out and walk.
This we did rather nervously, as we had been told
appalling stories of the ferocity and insolence of the
gipsies. We need not have been afraid ; they were
perfectly polite ; more so indeed than the CastiUanos^
as the natives of Granada choose, without the slightest
right, to call themselves. The lower orders of Granada
struck us as being usually less courteous and more
ferocious than in any other part of Spain. Of course,
to this there are exceptions : all the officials, gardeners,
labourers, and peasants in general were politeness
itself; and the upper classes there, as elsewhere in
Spain, are uni'ivalled in courtesy and kindness. But
there seemed to be always a good many roughs hanging
about, both in the streets and on the outskirts of the
town. Perhaps this was partly owing to the seething
republicanism, then at the very point of boiling over ;

Gipsy Caves. 197

we were told, however, by Spaniards, that the popu-
lation of the kingdom of Granada, including Malaga
and the Alpuxarras, had always borne a rather savage
character.

"We went into one of the gipsy caves, in spite of
the remonstrances of our guide, who finally refused
to come in with us. It was not so very dirty, being
nicely whitewashed inside. It consisted of two
rooms : we did not attempt to penetrate into the
back one ; but it looked tolerably tidy. There was
not much furniture; consisting chiefly of several
doormats, on each of which a child lay asleep. One
of the great difficulties in civilizing a gipsy is that
he cannot be cui-ed of stealing doormats ; if they
gain admittance to any house, either as beggars, or,
as is frequently the case, as models for the artists,
they are sure to carry off" the doormat. "We were
shown one splendid gipsy, up at the Alhambra, who
had been a very popular model among the artists ;
but the consumption of doormats was so tremendous
that they were obliged to give him up.

Here the gipsies were anything but splendid,
seeming very poor and sickly. Of course they begged
from us, but without importunity ; and we gave them
some coppers, with which they were quite satisfied.
One woman held in her arms an exceedingly small

198 -^ Siwimer i7i Spam.

baby, the size and colour of a black kitten, but by-
no means so lively. I asked, in the Spanish idiom,
" Ho-w many days it had ? " The answer was,
" Seven months ! " It did not look more than a
week old. When we were getting into the carriage
again, there was certainly rather a rush after us, in
hopes of a shower of copper ; but there was no
insolence.

What an exquisite view there was up the valley
of the Darro ! It seemed a pity that it should be
wasted on the half-savage gipsies, who do not at all
care for the lovely landscape. Anywhere but in Spain
people would build houses and live there ; but, to
be sure, if they did, it would lose great part of its
wild charm. It is very well as it is.

Then wo went to San Nicolas, in the Albaycin, for
the view, said to be one of the finest of the Alhambra
and the snowy Sierra I^evada ; and indeed I think
there cannot bo anything lovelier on this earth. We
went next to San Miguel el Bajo, where it is also
fine ; and in going do^^Ti to which we seemed to be
on the very point of driving over the precipice. We
must certainly have done so, if it had not been
for a friendly drove of pigs, which stopped us
exactly at the right moment. We met several of
those droves. They were rather nice-looking pigs,

The Cartuja, 199

small, neat, and active ; generally smooth, and of the
colour of black-lead : but sometimes chocolate-brown,
with wavy hair. These latter were the prettiest.
They all seemed cleanly creatures, and ran gladly
into the river. Pigs and the like are here taken
out to walk every day by a herdsman, who is paid
a halfpenny for each pig, goat, or sheep, of which he
takes charge. He makes a great deal of money by
it; often five francs a day: but he must have an
assistant ; for, when the herd is large, there should
be a man behind and a man before, or the confusion
becomes inextricable, especially when two droves
meet. It is sometimes a serious matter to encounter
the pigs going back at night. In their joy at getting
home, they rush along, with small consideration
for any pedestrian who may happen to be in the
way.

We now proceeded to the Cartuja, of which the
Granadinos are more proud than they are of the
Alhambra, and are greatly surprised that English
people in general care so little about it. It is really
very magnificent, as far as marble, tortoise-shell,
mother-of-pearl, and wonderfully large fine agates
can make it. But there is no architectural beauty,
nor is it interesting, though the ground was a gift
from the Gran Capitan Gonsalvo de Cordova, himself.

200 A Simimer in Spain.

The celebrated painted cross is extraordinary in its
truthfulness ; at first, it is impossible to believe
it otherwise than a wooden one in relief. There are
plenty of horrible frescoes in the cloisters, all repre-
senting the Carthusians tortured by the English
under Henry the Eighth ! The garden was a
pleasant wilderness of fruit-trees ; and our guide got
so absorbed in endeavours to knock a fig off a high
branch, that he became practically useless. I am
bound to confess that the fig, when at last secured,
was the best I had ever tasted ; large, juicy, sweet as
honey, and cold as ice.

The great object of this expedition was to go to
the Casa de Tiros, belonging to the Marquis of Cam-
potejar, the owner of the Generalife. At the Casa
de Tiros we were to see Boabdil's sword, and there
also we were to get a permission to go into the
Generalife.

This permission is generally given for only one visit ;
but we resolved to endeavour to obtain a permanent
one. The " admiuistrador " of the Marquis of Cam-
potejar proved, luckily, to be also Italian vice-consul,
and was so delighted on hearing that we lived in Italy,
that he not only gave us unlimited permission to go
to the Generalife as often as we pleased, but also
wrote on the back of the ticket an order to get into

Casa de Tiros. 201

his own villa of Bella Yista, situated opposite the
Siete Suelos.

This Marquis of Campotejar is better known as
one of the Grimaldi-Pallavicini of Genoa ; the heiress
of the family is married to the Marquis Durazzo, and
has never seen her lovely Granada estate. These
Grimaldis or Campotejars are of Moorish race,
being descended from an uncle of Boabdil, Cidi Aya,
who became a Christian, and was afterwards called
Don Pedro ; to him the Generalife was given at the
time of the Conquest of Granada. Thus it is that
he possesses Boabdil's sword, a beautifully inlaid
weapon.

He has truly an embarrassing amount of riches, as
far as houses are concerned; the Generalife, the
Casa de Tiros, the splendid Durazzo Palace in Genoa,
the Pallavicini Palace, also there, and the beautiful
Yilla Pegli, by the Mediterrannean.

The Marchesa Durazzo has only one child, a boy
of eleven years old ; failing him, the Granada pro-
perty lapses to the Spanish crown.

In the Casa de Tiros are some very good pictures ;
in particular, a Shepherd Boy, by Eubens, which is
excellent. It is a nice old house, and the wooden
ceilings are curious.

Almost every morning we went to the Generalife,

202 A Sunmier in Spain.

from which the view of the Alhambra is superb.
Thence, and thence only, is every part of it visible,
in its circuit of red towers : even the little, low
brown roofs which cover the wondrous Arab palace
can be distinguished ; and here alone can one judge
of the enormous size of the whole.

Here we walked up and down, in the fresh morn-
ing, beneath the glorious oleanders. Never did I
see such flowers ! The great, heavy masses of deep
rose-coloured blossoms almost weighed down the
trees. Each flower was as large and full as the
largest double hollyhock. The Spaniards say the
faint bitter perfume of the oleander is poisonous.
I thought it delicious, and never found any bad
efi'ects from it. So persuaded are they, however, of
its evil qualities, that they never give it to anybody,
nor do I think they ever gather it at all. This
surprised us, for in general the Spaniards have a
passion for flowers, and do not object to the strongest
scents : a Spanish girl always puts a rose, a clove
carnation or a tuberose, among her dark locks ; and
if she gives a flower, as she frequently does, to a
lady friend, is vexed unless it is instantly placed in
the hair. If you put it in water, she says, "Is it
not good enough for the hair ? " and will generally
fasten it there for you herself And with what grace

Oleanders. 203

she does so ! If any hairdresser could but arrange
it like that ! But among all those flowers the pink
oleander alone, which would look so well in the
black hair, is never used.

"Whatever its bad qualities may be, one of the
merits of the oleander is that it lasts so long. In
the end of June they were in blossom in Madrid,
and they lasted till the middle of September when
we left Granada. Even then the flowers were still
to be found, though no longer in profusion. All the
months of July and August they hung in rich
luxuriance, with the little streamlets of clear water
bathing their roots, the Spanish sun above them,
and the dark cypresses behind. Till between 9 and 10
A.M., that cypress avenue was always in shade ; and
very delightful it was, with the Vega stretching far
away into the blue distance, and, below us, the
vermilion towers of the Alhambra.

We often went into the inner garden, and lingered
on its quaint terraces, all full of rare flowers, and
myrtle hedges, and plashing fountains ; up to the
great old cypresses of the time of Boabdil, where
the air was laden with their hot, aromatic perfume.
There the Sultana cypress still stands, where Zoraya
met her lover, the Abencerrage ; and even then it
was more than two centuries old. On a still higher

204 A SunzTner m Spain.

terrace, the trellised vines are also of the time of the
Moorish kings ; the stems are thick like a tree, and
the grapes most excellent, as we experienced one
morning when the gardener's son, a fine boy of
thirteen, climbed up, and cut huge bunches for us.

In the house are some remains of Moorish orna-
mentation, which, however, have been so per-
tinaciously whitewashed, as now to present a rather
waterworn appearance. The outside has no archi-
tectural beauty, as indeed few Moorish buildings
have. There are some interesting pictures in the
principal hall. Boabdil, the Eey Chico himself, with
a fair face and gentle expression; his uncle, much
fiercer-looking, from whom the present proprietor of
the Generalife is descended ; the Moorish princess
who was baptized, became a nun, and founded the
convent of St. Isabel la Eeal ; and several ancestors
of the Campotejar family, who, on the whole, look
somewhat as if they would rather have been Moslems,
after all. Ferdinand and Isabella, too, are here;
and the Gran Capitan.

But it is the gardens and terraces that are so
enchanting. And up those terraces we wandered
to the Mirador, with its marvellous view of the
Sierra Nevada, which, by the way, is a view very
seldom seen from the Alhambra side of Granada.

The Mirador. 205.

Either the lower hills or the dense foliage almost
always conceal the serrated azure peaks, with their
streaks of silver snow.

Truth obliges me to state that those same silver
streaks were, for the greater part of our stay, the only
claim the Sierra could make to be called snowy. But
the Spaniards persist that it is covered with perpetual
snow, and when you demur, and ask where it is,
they say, " There ! don't you see that streak ? and
the white spot yonder ? " It is very meritorious of
such a small quantity of snow to cool the air as
much as it certainly does. I was told, however, by
Englishmen who had explored those mountains, that
there is very much more really than appears from a
distance ; that there are glacier-gorges quite full of
ice and snow.

Once, after a night of heavy rain (the first for
more than two months), we went up to the Mirador,
and lo ! instead of the blue Sierra, it was pure Avhite
like the Alps, and wondrously beautiful. In the
evening we went up again, to show it to some friends,
and it was gone ; melted by the noonday sun. Thi»
was in September ; in winter, spring, and early sum-
mer the snow-view must be superb.

From the Mirador, a door opens upon the wild hill-
side, and one can scramble up to the Silla del Moro ;

2o6 A Smmner in Spain.

that is, if the heat permits, for it is absolutely shade-
less, and even late in the evening the ground is
burning. Occasionally we went up at sunset ; it is
but a stone's throw from the Mirador, and there is a
kind of path. The view is magnificent; you look
straight down into the valley of the Darro, which
seems strangely lonely, though in reality peopled
with the gipsies. But as they live underground, you
don't see them ; and it does not naturally occm- to
the beholder that those tawny slopes, where nothing
is visible but a luxuriant jungle of prickly pears, is
really a populous suburb ; the gipsy town, in fact.

Further up, the scene becomes wilder and wilder ;
more like some lovely valley far among the Apen-
nines, than anything Spanish. A little more to the
left the white Albaycin, or Moorish town, lies below
us ; and beyond, stretches the rich Vega, bounded, in
the direction in which we are now looking, by the
Sierra Elvira, deep purple against the sunset.

Then we returned to the cypress avenue, light as
day in the moonlight, and generally lingered so long
that we were often locked in, and had to grope our
way out by some of the laboui-ers' cottages, to the
intense indignation of a number of dogs, who barked
furiously, and nibbled at our heels, but, rather to my
surprise, never did us any harm.

Garden of the Adarves. 207

One July evening, some of our Spanish friends
came from Granada, and we went into the Garden of
the Adarves, perched on the very edge of the high
battlement, with six hundred feet of sheer preci-
pice below. The courteous Governor, Don Eafael
Contreras, accompanied us, with his wife and
daughter.

" Let us make Tertulia," exclaimed one of the
ladies. Now, " making Tertulia" consists in sitting
all round, chatting in a very lively way, drinking
water and eating azucarillos. Accordingly, Don
Eafael sent to the Well of the Algibes, and the
coldest, iciest water was brought, with a tray
of azucarillos and meringues; and we sat there,
among a profusion of flowers, many of which were
new to me, and called by the Spaniards by very
curious names. One magnificent shrub, completely
covered with rose-pink blossoms, was called ''Jupiter;"
another smaller plant, somewhat like a petunia, with
dark red, sweet-scented flowers, was "Don Pedro."
Many old friends there were, too, among those bril-
liant strangers; oranges and citrons covered with
fruit, as yet dark green; dulcamara, sweet-basil,
lemon-verbena, and tall tuberoses. N'o chill ever
comes in that wonderful climate ; no dew, no damp.
We never thought of shawls or wraps of any kind ;

2o8 A Siumner in Spain.

a thin muslin dress and the unfailing black lace veil
was all that was necessary.

Then the deep crimson of the Yoga faded, and the
full moon rose slowly behind the Sierra Nevada like
a great golden shield ; and still we sat listening to
talk of old Moorish days, and the almost unknown
treasures of Arabic literature, and the strange legends
that linger yet among the people, till our friends
remembered the length of the way back to Granada,
and we reluctantly rose to depart.

As we came out of the garden, the moonlight on
the Plaza de los Algibes and the unfinished palace of
Charles the Fifth was absolutely blinding, and the
sudden transition to the pitch darkness of the
Alhambra avenue made us grope and stumble, Don
Eafael politely insisted upon sending a guard with a
loaded gun to escort us home ; I do not think it was
at all necessary for protection, because we every
night came home in utter darkness, and never met
with any disturbance, except once. This one occasion
was a Sunday night, when we were coming home
from church, and a man floui'ished a stick over the
head of a gentleman who was with us, requiring him
instantly to state distinctly whether he was in favour
of Queen Isabel the Second or not. IN'ow the gentle-
man being of a peacable disposition, and moreover

A Violent Politician. 209

perfectly indifferent to Queen Isabel, or any other
Queen or King of Spain, was quite willing to agree
with the man's politics, whatever those might happen
to be. But the misfortune was that there were no
means of ascertaining whether our assailant was Ee-
publican, Eadical, Carlist, or Alfonsist. Luckily
something diverted his attention, and he dashed off to
the other side of the road, to join in an unearthly yell,
supposed by its utterers to be a song. I dare say if
we had been alone, he would not have attacked us; for
I don't think that in the south of Spain they are yet
quite sure that women have souls ; and if they have
no souls, why then they need not have political
opinions.

2IO

CHAPTER VIII.

Spanish Protestant Churcu in Granada — Schools — Villa
Bella Vista — Mosque — Tower of the Captive— Tower
OF the Infantas — Cuarto Eeal of San Domingo —
Artist's Studio — Museum — Vineyard — Spanish Ageicul-
TUEE — Political Dinner — A House in Granada — Monte
Sacro — Fountain of Tears — Funerals — Farewells —
Journey to Cordova,

After tlic accession of King AmadeuSj Spanish Pro-
testantism was for the fii'st time tolerated. Exiles
returned, the prison doors were opened, and congre-
gations were formed in the principal towns of Spain.
In Granada it was a very small one, consisting chiefly
of the poorer classes, though there were also some
officers of the garrison, who used to come with their
wives. I think there was a strong prejudice against
it on the pai't of all classes; as we went in, the people

Spanish Protestant Church in Granada. 2, 1 1

sometimes called out to us that we were Jeios and
Moors ; and even the more enlightened Spaniards,
who were very far from being bigoted Romanists,
and whose greatest encomium on anybody was, "They
never have a priest in the house," opposed this, and
said the pastor only wished to make money of it.
The fact is that the great diflS.culty in Spain is, that
there has been only too much of this making money
of holy things, and that for many years religion and
morality have ranged themselves on opposite sides;
consequently all priests, and clergymen generally, are
hated as such without further inquiry.

There being no English chui-ch in Granada, we
were however very glad to have this Protestant
service to go to. It was in the house of the pastor,
who was a friend of Matamoros, and had shared in his
sufferings ; this pastor, Sehor Alhama, had been, with
his wife and his old mother, then seventy years of
age, imprisoned, as many others were at that time, for
reading the Bible. The representatives of the dif-
ferent Protestant powers remonstrated, and after some
delay the sentence of imprisonment was commuted
into banishment. The Alhama family then took
refuge at Gibraltar, where the son and daughter were
educated, and learnt to speak English. After several
years' exile the revolution came, and allowed them to

212 A Stcimner in Spain.

return ; the mother was still alive, a quiet gentle old
woman, with a pleasant but sad expression. The
pastor himself was a burly, energetic, rather rough
man, with the thick utterance derived from his
Moorish blood.

For Alhama is a thoroughly Moorish name ; and the
daughter, a girl of seventeen, might have sat for a
portrait of some of the Xarifas or Zaydas of Moorish
romance, with her long, almond-shaped Eastern eyes,
her fair skin, and raven hair. Altogether it was a
curious combination : listening to the Bible read by a
descendant of the Moors, and hearing Spanish children
sing translations of well-known English hymns, set to
old Scotch psalm-tunes; and all in the Moorish
Zacatin of Granada !

The service was in the evening, at eight o'clock, as
the heat by day would have been intolerable. It
consisted of prayers translated into Spanish from the
English prayer-book, a chapter of the Bible, a good
many hymns, very heartily, '^if not very musically
sung, an extempore prayer, and a very good sermon
by the pastor. lie was exceedingly fearless, and
actually ventui'cd one evening to preach against the
bull-fight ! Those who know Spain wiU appreciate
his courage.

Miss Alhama devoted herself entirely to teaching.

Schools. 213

Her school was in a pretty Carmen, or villa (the word
Carmen in Arabic, signifies, properly speaking, a
vineyard), on the slope leading from the Alhambra
to the town. The family lived there during the
summer months, only going in to their house in the
Zacatin on Sunday evening for the service. We went
one day to see the school, and it seemed very well
managed. The children read very well indeed, rather
fast, but distinctly and correctly ; of course with the
the sing-song tone, utterly unnatural, in which all
Spaniards of every rank read aloud, even a common
note or letter. They wrote most beautifully, both
Spanish and English hand, as they call them, the
Spanish having squarer, bolder letters, like the hand-
writing of a clever practical English person ; the so-
called English being like a weak Italian hand, neat,
sharp-pointed and tidy. They seemed to delight
most of all in singiug, which they did very loud and
fearfully out of tune, but heartily and spiritedly, with
nothing dragging nor dull about it, though much that
was shrill and harsh. The needlework, both plain
and embroidery, was exquisite, as it always is in
Spain. Miss Alhama's own was quite artistic. She
said the most difficult thing to teach the children was
manners^ but even in that she had succeeded pretty
well, She very properly insisted that they should

2 14 -^ Stun^ner in Spain.

rise when sti'angers came to visit them ; they not
only did so, but said ''Good morning" in English
when we came in. After we had examined the chil-
dren, we went into the garden, where we made
acquaintance with a pot raven, and gathered the
early pomegranates.

On the whole, the children near the Alhambra were
not nearly so teasing as in some other places. They
soon got to know us, and carried out all their pets to
show us, pnppy-dogs, kittens, birds, etc. They
caught beautiful large rose-coloured moths for us, and
were much surprised that we would not stick pins in
them. One morning we happened to go out earlier
than usual, and on passing the cottage where a little
boy of five or six years old lived, whom we had
already made friends with, a cry of "gatitos! gatitos!"
(kittens ! kittens ! ) arose. His cat had had kittens
the evening before, and he was anxious to show us
his new acquisitions. But, unfortunately, his toilot
was not yet made, so somebody hastily wi'apped him
up in his father's cloak, and he dashed out of the
house to meet us, with the garment, his only one, as
it afterwards appeared, trailing on the ground. It
was gracefully enough draped round him, but in his
eagerness to display the new-born treasures, he held
up his arms and let the cloak fall grandly behind him.

Spanish Opinions on Sketching. 215

in a manner that, though very picturesque, rendered
it wholly useless for the purposes of clothing. I
wished a sculptor could have seen the little bronzed
figure, with the drapery falling back, and the arms
stretched out holding up the kittens. It would have
made a beautiful statue.

Even in sketching I was quite unmolested. I
suppose they are accustomed to it, for they seldom
made any remark. But one day when I was drawing
the Gate of Justice, an old woman, a girl, and a youth
came up to look at what I was about, and greatly
amused me by their remarks. The girl expressed
surprise that I did not rather occupy myself in
embroidering trimmings like what I had on my dress.
The boy replied, "Any fool can work trimmings; I
dare say even you can do it " (very contemptuously to
the girl), " but painting is quite another matter." The
old woman thereupon said, ''Yes, it is all very well
for a man. I have seen a man paint, but for a lady it
is rar^." Now rara^ in Spanish, means odd as well as
rare, and is not altogether a compliment. " "Well, if
it is rara^ it is all the more merit," said my defender,
the boy. '' Ah ! but," said the old woman, " I have
seen finer things than that, — a man painting with a
large box 1" This was an artist painting in oil, whom
I had also observed. "A large box!" rejoined the

2i6 A Summer in Spain.

boy, with infinite scorn, " what merit is there in that ?
Anybody can paint with a large box ; why he could
not even carry it himself; got a boy to do it You,"
(to the old woman and girl) '' don't understand those
things, but if you did you would have seen that there
was oz7, and anybody could paint with oil. And
besides, he had everything ready-made. It is easy to
put on blue or yellow when it is all there, but the
lady has nothing but little bits of black earth ; and if
you would only look and not be so stupid, you would
see that it comes blue or yellow, or green or red, off
the same bit of black earth, just as the lady pleases.
There now ! " (triumphantly, as I dipped my brush in
the gamboge, and proceeded with the green trees) "I
told you so."

"We sometimes went into the Villa Bella Vista, in
the evening. It was too hot there in the daytime,
and even quite late it was warmer than elsewhere.
But the flowers, especially the roses, were plentiful,
and the gardener liberally bestowed them on us.
The sunsets, seen from its Mii-ador, were glorious, the
Sierra Nevada seeming quite at hand. It has quite
a different view of the Alhambra from any other.
The Arab palace is entu'cly concealed, and even
Charles the Fifth's is scarcely visible ; but the circuit
of the red towers and walls, forming the outworks

The Alhambra. 217

of the whole, are here seen to great advantage.
One looks straight down into the Alhambra enclo-
sure, with its yellow fields and agave hedges : a
forest seems to intervene between this and the
Torre de la Vela, which stands far off, quite black
against the crimson sunset and the purple Sierra
Elvira.

I could never look at that red circuit without
thinking of the towers of the City of Dis, in Dante's
^Inferno;' and wondering if some tale of Christian
captive among the Moors had suggested the idea.
It is remarkable that Dante expressly calls the red
towers of Hell, mosques or minarets. In truth, the
scene here is more like Paradise than Hell; but in
those old times, the followers of Mahoun, as they
were called, were supposed by the orthodox, to be
little better than demons.

Nothing is more remarkable than the extraordinary
variety presented by the Alhambra from different
points of view. From one, it is a classical fagade, in
a formal garden of myrtle hedges and oleanders ; from
another, it is a rude, stern fortress, whose vermilion
towers have stood for a thousand years. Here, it is a
large farm, with cornfields where they are gathering
in the golden grain; there, it is a thicket of agaves
and pomegranates, with only a reddish mud wall

21 8 A Stimmer in Spain,

apparent : again, it is like a splendid fortified town,
by the edge of a grand ravine, on some Apennine
height. "Without, the palace of Boabdil is like a
collection of magnified swallows' nests, stuck on the
hillside; within, it is a creation of the genii, too
fairylike for this earth.

"We were always finding something new ; in almost
every one of the many towers of the outer circuit
there is something interesting. The Great Mosque
has long since disappeared, and in its place stands the
modern church of Santa Maria del Alhambra. But,
besides the one existing in the palace itself, there
is in one of the towers, a small mosque, which has
lately been beautifully restored. There is a very
curious slab let into the wall ; it has a long Arabic
inscription, and was brought from the ancient Moorish
Mint, where it formed the key-stone of the entrance
arch. The views from the little Moorish windows
are lovely, and that from the garden still more so,
looking down on Granada.

This mosque was exceedingly difficult to find,
being approached by a narrow lane. At the garden-
gate are two sculptured lions, also brought from the
Mint ; within is a mass of oleanders, roses, vines, and
lavender, "We were standing below one of those
thick-stemmed, trellised vines, when we heard a

Tower of the Captive, 219

rustling above us; we looked up, and saw a child
about three or four years old, quite naked, riding on
a branch, and trying to conceal himself among the
vine leaves. His sister said that, not being yet
dressed, he had clambered up there when we came
in, being ashamed to be seen by English ladies
without his clothes. It seems to be the habit of
Spanish children to run out without taking the
trouble to dress, on the fresh, cool mornings ; and I
have no doubt it does them a great deal of good.
He looked very pretty among the vine leaves, with
his bright eyes and merry face, putting one in mind
of a Cupid upon an ancient Greek vase.

In another tower, the Tower of the Captive, lives a
family of very poor people, and the beautiful tracery
is all uncared for. We had wandered in, without
anybody with us, and the inmates looked so poor and
so wild, that I began to wonder if we were quite safe.
But they received us civilly enough ; saying, however,
that they would expect us to give them something for
showing it. We assented, and they took us up to the
top, each story consisting of one room. As there
were two of us, I think we were in no danger ; had I
been alone, I am not quite sure about it. It was a
lonely place, and it would not have been difficult to
take a purse, and then shove the owner off the

220 A Summer in Spain.

battlements; an accident might so easily happen!
But I dare say I did the poor man injustice,
and quite misinterpreted his eager looks at our
money.

Formerly all the towers were inhabited by poor
people, labourers, and sometimes beggars; but they
are gradually being rescued from this, and kept in
repair. Another very beautiful tower, with the most
exquisite Tarkish or Moorish stucco-work, is unin-
habited and kept locked up ; but it is all blackened
by the smoke of fires that have been lighted in those
lovely rooms. This latter is the Tower of the
Infantas, where the scene of one of Washington
Irving's tales is laid; where the three princesses,
Zayda, Zorayda, and Zorahayda were supposed to
have lived, and from which the two elder escaped
with their Christian lovers to Cordova, leaving the
youngest to fade away in her beautiful prison.

These two towers are far away from the Adarves
and the Arab palace, quite across the cornfields, and
looking down on the ravine that separates the
Alhambra fi'om the Generalife.

One morning we went to the villa of Madame
Calderon de la Barca, nearly opposite the Sietc Suelos ;
it is beautifully kept, with very fine flowers, and
extensive walks, Madame Calderon usually lives

Cuarto Real of San Domingo. 221

there in summer ; but at this time she was at Biarritz,
her son being a Carlist, and involved in the insurrec-
tion then going on in the north. "We were surprised
to hear that there was a dairy at this villa, and to see
nice, English-looking cows. In this dairy most ex-
cellent fresh butter is made, which, in the absence of
Madame Calderon, was sold to the hotel, and was a
great dainty, butter of any kind being extremely rare,
and fresh butter almost unknown in Spain. Indeed,
in Spanish, there is but one name for butter and for
lard ; and salt butter, the only kind generally used, is
called " Flanders lard," not a very attractive appel-
lation. Madame Calderon is an Englishwoman, which
accounts for the dairy and the cows.

One of the things we most wished to see in Granada
was the Cuarto Eeal of San Domingo, as it is called.
This was a sort of jointure-house for the Sultana-
mother, in Moorish days. It still belongs to the
noble family to whom it was given at the time the
Christians entered ; the Marquis Salar de la Conquista.
This title, " de la Conquista," is given to those nobles
who gained their estates at that time. This Marquis,
however, does not seem to prize his interesting
possession, and keeps wood in the beautiful Moorish
haU. He is quite aware that he does not treat it as
he ought ; the reason he gives for obstinately refusing

222 A Siuiwier in Spain.

to show it to any English is, lest they should call him
a brute for keeping it in such confusion !

Oui' kind friends, however, knowing how much we
wished to see it, exerted themselves in our behalf.
There were great difficulties; they could not ask it
themselves, because, as they were known to have
English acquaintance, it would certainly be refused.
But they applied to a friend, who knew an officer of
the garrison, who knew the Marquis, and, what was
quite as much to the purpose, had probably never
before seen any English person. Accordingly, we
were taken there, receiving strict injunctions not to
speak a word of English the whole time ; and, above
all things, to make no remark whatever on the untidy
state in which it was kept. It was exceedingly well
worth seeing ; the Moorish hall is very fine, and not
much spoilt by being used as a lumber-room : possibly
it is better so, than if it had been badly renovated.
There are most beautiful Cufic letters, pale green,
with the background, leaves, and flourishes of a
brownish hue ; so that it was quite easy, in this case,
to distinguish the inscription from the ornamentation.
The azulejos are nearly unique, with gold letters on
silver lustre. There was a pretty garden, not very
well kept; but pleasant with flowers and fountains,
arching bays and great myrtles. It was originally

Artistes Studio. 22;^

mudh larger, but the Marquis chose to part with a bit
of it for a theatre !

Our friends then took us to the house of Seiior
Fortuny, the eminent Spanish painter. We were
received in a large and very beautiful patio, arranged
quite like a drawing-room, with piano, tables, chairs,
etc. ; rich Persian carpets were thrown carelessly on
the ground here and there ; in the centre was a mass
of flowering shrubs ; and on a pedestal, among the
bright leaves, a large Moorish vase was placed, also
full of flowers. We were admiring this when we
were told that it was coarse compared with one upstairs.
We accordingly went up, and saw one that was mag-
nificent indeed. It was very large, of beautiful form,
with golden scrolls on silver lustre ; and is, probably,
second in value only to the celebrated Alhambra vase.
In that room also was the largest and finest azulejo
that has ever been found ; it is oblong, likewise with
golden scrolls and silver lustre, and was dug up in the
Albaycin ; it bears the name of one of the kings of
Granada. We were shown, too, some of the azulejos
made at a later period, after the expulsion of the
Moors ; they were quite different, and much coarser,
with a gold ground, like the common Yenetian glass
mosaic, without any lustre at all ; being, indeed, more
like gold leaf laid on under the surface than anything

224 -^ Su7Ji7ner in Spain.

else. There were many basins and plates of Moorish
ware ; some with ruby lustre, some with gold, and
some with silver. They said the ruby was produced
by copper, the gold by a mixture of copper and silver,
and the silver wholly by silver.

Another day we visited the Museum, in order to see
the little portable altar that belonged to Gonsalvo de
Cordova; it is of exquisite enamel, far the finest I
have ever seen, with its beautiful gold lights. One
subject was very Dantesque, small devils being eaten
by a large one. I think it was meant for the
swallowing up of death and hell. In the centre of
the upper row was the Saviour enthroned, with the
Yirgin Mary on one side and St. John on the other ; but
both the Yirgin and St. John were much lower than
the Saviour, and were equal; the writing was "Even
so come, Lord Jesus." Alongside of this is a repre-
sentation of the crowned Savioui- leading a great
multitude up a golden stair ; I think, in allusion to
the text, "And after this I saw a great multitude
which no man could number ; " but, possibly, it might
be the Ascent from Hades. On the other side is the
Final Doom of Sinners. Below is the Crucifixion;
one of the kneeling figures strongly resembles the
portraits of the Duchess of TJrbino, Guidobaldo's wife,
and the head-dress is also similar.

A Vifieyard. 225

In a room downstairs are some antiquities — Arabic
inscriptions found, face inmost, in the wall of the
Ayuntamiento, or Town-hall; they must have be-
longed to the old Moorish Town-hall, which stood
on the same spot as the modern one. There is also a
curious Moorish jar of very graceful form.

The picture gallery was deplorable, consisting
chiefly of frightful saints from desecrated convents.
One or two might have had some merit, if cleaned
and properly placed ; but none, in any circumstances,
could ever be agreeable to look at.

One of the pleasantest of the many pleasant days
we spent in our southern paradise was in the vine-
yard of our kind Granada friends. This vineyard is
between two and three miles out of the town, on the
other side from the Alhambra, and an afternoon there
had been often talked of. On the 1st of September,
the great heat being now past, and the grapes in their
fullest perfection, we all went there together. It was
a very garden of Eden; trees laden with the little
golden figs which, by the bye, Eodriguez Borgia,
otherAvise Pope Alexander the Sixth, introduced into
Italy from his native Spain — one good deed of his at
any rate. The plums were such as only Spain can
produce ; in fact, nobody can form an idea of the
capabilities of the greengage until they have tasted it

2 26 A Siunmer in Spam.

at Granada; so much so that delicate childi-en are
brought here for a sort of "plum-cure," like the
grape-cures of Tyrol and Switzerland, and eat them
by the dozen. The variety and excellence of the
grapes was quite bewildering ; large, luscious, thick-
skinned black ones; dim green ones, with a sharp,
refreshing, pine-apple taste ; muscatels with a flavour
undreamt of elsewhere ; pale straw-coloured ones with
juice like thick honey ; tawny, freckled ones like a
mouthful of sunshine ; greyish ones, tasting of per-
fume ; and, most curious of all, pale rose-pink ones ;
the prettiest fruit I have ever seen, though not nearly
so good as those of more sober hue.

Away we wandered through the vineyard, gathering
what we chose in careless abundance, our friends
saying, with the true kindly profusion of the Spanish
character, " Oh ! do throw those away, and gather
that ; it is finer. It is so pleasant to eat just two or
three of the finest of each bunch." Our consciences,
however, really would not permit us to fling de-
licious fruit away in this manner.

Then we sat under a tree till the sun went down,
hearing all about the Spanish plans of agriculture,
which, to say the truth, consist chiefly of giving the
ground as much water as possible, and then letting the
fertile soil and splendid sunshine do the rest. They

Spanish Agriculture. 227

do not like new inventions ; indeed, why should they
make any change ? They don't want to make money
of their land ; it produces wine and oil, and fruit and
vegetables in luxuriant plenty as it is. In the south
few people are in want, and nobody is very rich ; and,
perhaps, it is happier so.

Certainly, whatever be the plans of cultivation, the
results, as far as quantity and quality of fruit is
concerned, are astonishing. The complete absence of
damp is partly the cause of it. In the whole of the
middle and south of Spain there is no such thing as
mustiness or mouldiness. The grapes may hang on
the vines, the melons may lie on the ground for any
length of time ; and sweeter and richer the melons
become, and the grapes get encrusted with sugar and
wither into raisins, but they never become spoilt nor
mouldy.

From the fruit being so much richer and less watery
than elsewhere, it is a chief article of food among the
lower classes. In the fig season it is a common thing
for a poor family to hire a tree. They then pitch
some kind of tent under it, and live on the figs, with
the addition of a little bread.

"When the sun became lower, we took a walk round
the vineyard, to look at the varying colours of the
Sierra Elvira. Presently we came to an open space,

Q 2

228 A Summer in Spain.

where a table was set, covered with fruit of every
descrii^tion, and two largo Moorish cakes. One of
them, the largest, was called Ayuya (I spell phoneti-
cally, not having the slightest idea, save by the
sound, of how it ought to be written) ; the other was
Hornazo^ and had whole eggs in their shells, like
Easter eggs, baked into it. Both were very good,
but the Ayuya was the best. We were told it
was made simply of dough prepared for bread, and
mixed with q^^ and sugar; but I should have
thought it more complicated. They said both kinds
had been made in Granada ever since the Moorish
days.

Then our friends opened a cask of old wine for us,
made of the grapes of this very vineyard, in 1834,
before the grape disease had begim. It was delicious,
like Malaga, but drier, and with a slight Tokay
flavour. "We di-ank it out of beautiful little slender
tumblers with gilt patterns, like Tm-kish attar-of-rose
bottles. The thick, broad boxwood hedges served as
sideboards — not an uncommon use of hedges in this
country. In the Gcneralife I often used a myrtle
hedge as a sketching-table ; it was perfectly steady
and perfectly impervious.

We were taken to see the wine-presses, which were
of the most primitive construction j by no means cal-

Spanish Characteristics. 12()

culated to make the most , of the grapes. But here
again, if one judges by success, the result was fault-
less. No such wine as that is ever produced in Italy,
with all the attention now given to vine culture ; and
as to quantity, they had a great deal more than they
wanted.

A Spaniard likes this feeling of heedless abundance,
and any appearance of economy or even making the
most of things, causes him annoyance. He can
perfectly well do without a thing altogether ; but to
economise in the use of it is hateful to him. He
can be very self-denying when kindness, politeness,
or a feeling of what is due to himself or others
prescribe it. The Spaniards bear hunger or thirst,
heat, cold, fatigue, or any other discomfort, with
perfect equanimity; it would be beneath them to
fret or complain. They are kind, hospitable, cour-
teous, liberal, and magnificent in all their ways;
but thrifty they are not, and I think never will
be.

The purple and golden light had faded, and now
the stars were peeping out, so we prepared to return
home. The street leading to the Alhambra-gate was
under repair, so no carriage could get in ; our friends
therefore walked up with us, the servant carrying an
enormous basket of the finest fruit ; which made

230 A Suminer in Spain.

us extremely popular in the hotel, as long as it
lasted.

When we got back to the Siete Suelos, we found
a political dinner going on in the garden ; noise,
music, speechifying, and much applause of every-
thing that was said. This lasted till they all grew
hoarse ; then they came into the house to have coffee
and " eloio^' the housemaid told us. For a moment
I was at a loss as to what "elow" could possibly
mean ; she said it was something sweet and exceed-
ingly cold. At last it dawned upon me that this
was Andaluz for lielado or ice ! My supposition was
confirmed when the landlord appeared, bearing two
plates of the dainty in question, which he begged
us to accept.

This singularity of the Andalusian pronunciation
throws considerable light on the much disputed
question of the assonance or consonance of Spanish
rhymes ; the fact being that a very great proportion
of those so-called assonant verses really rhyme
perfectly well in the ordinary way, when read by an
Andalusian, who always leaves out the consonant
between the last two vowels, and often the whole of
the last syllable. The letter s he hardly ever pro-
nounces at all. Let anybody try to read the Anda-
lusian ballads in this way, that is, as the Andalusians

A House in Granada. 231

do, and it will be obvious that the rhyme is there,
without exiDlaining it by any peculiar laws of Spanish
versification.

The cooler weather now allowed us to go down
often to Granada to see our friends. Their house
there was very Spanish, very characteristic. It was
at the further end of the town beyond the Yivar-
ambla ; how strange it seemed to tall£ familiarly of the
Yivarambla, with all its memories of Moorish romance !
This is quite beyond the noisy, crowded part of the
town. A long, quiet street stretches away in the sleepy
sunshine to the trees and country beyond; the
houses, like most others in Granada, are low, only
two stories, and the lower stories have scarcely any
windows to the street. The upper ones are grated,
as well as glazed, and nobody ever appears at them.
One knocks at a small, rather low door ; when it is
opened, one is admitted into a small room which leads
to the patio. There the family sit, with an awning
overhead, and a fountain full of gold-fish, surrounded
by flowers, ferns, and birds, in the middle. From
the patio open small rooms, which have no other
entrance, and often no windows in any other direction.
Upstairs are larger rooms, but they are not much used
in summer, being much hotter than the ground-floor.
In one of those small rooms sat the old mother,

232 A Suvnner in Spain.

who had been left a widow at the age of twenty-
three, and who for some five-and-thirty years or
more, had scarcely crossed her threshold, always
wearing deepest mourning. She was a great invalid,
and suffered much ; but her face always wore
the kindest, sweetest smile. Her life was spent
almost entirely in prayer ; and her sole pleasure was
in her grandchildren, two fine boys of eight and two
years old. Another larger room was her son's library,
full of treasures of learning, Arabic manuscripts, and
books in the Castilian language, but in Arabic cha-
racter (of which many exist in Spain), huge volumes
of Spanish history and Spanish ballads; and, what
seemed stranger here, much of the English literature
of the day. In the patio the baby boy was generally
to be found, petting his nightingales, of which there
was a cage full of young ones, who were his great
interest in life. When he met us out of doors, his
usual greeting was, " The nightingales and mamma
are quite well." ("Los ruisenores y mama estan
bien.") The elder boy, I think, found the patio too
narrow a sphere for his energies, and went to fly his
gorgeously painted kite (called a comet in Spain)
elsewhere.

A few doors from our friends' dwelling is the
house where the Empress Eugenie was born. It has

Monte Sacro. 233

the same quiet, old-world look that all this side of
Granada has.

One of those fresh September mornings, we deter-
mined to go to Monte Sacro ; but not knowing the
way, further than that we had to pass through the
Gipsy Town, we resolved to take our guide. IS^ow
began a pitched battle ; the guide insisting that we
were to drive, and we equally pertinaciously declaring
that we should walk. Strange to say, we carried
the day ; the guide groaned, but gave in ; and we
started early one bright, cool morning. The walk
was delightful ; at least we thought so ; but our guide
evidently did not enjoy it. The air was crisp and
bracing, and the poplars were just beginning to wear
their golden autumnal tint. We passed through
the Gipsy Town, and proceeded up the valley of
the Darro. The last part of the way, with the
fallen leaves rustling beneath our feet, was like the
ascent up to some Tyrolese castle, and the views
were very similar.

In the entrance of the church is a beautiful
picture, Santiago preaching ; they say it is by Alonso
Cano ; but whoever is its painter, it is very fine. In
the church itself is a curious retaUo^ or altarpiece in
compartments ; there are also some tolerable pictures.
One seemed to be a copy of a Juanes, the Saviour

234 -^ Su7nmer in Spain.

with his haud on the head of a boy, as if blessing
or curing him ; the heads are fine, and the modelling
good. A Madonna of carved wood, by Alonso Cano,
struck us by its strong resemblance to the Empress
Eugdnie, only it was less beautiful.

Then we went into the curious rock-chapels, which
are small rooms cut in the solid rock, with so many
little passages and turnings that I got quite con-
fused, and should certainly never have got out, had
I been left to myself. In one of those rock-cells we
suddenly came upon a corpse, as it seemed, lying
with a gash across the throat, and a calm smile on
the face. It was strangely startling ; but so beautiful
as to inspire no horror. A little fiu'ther, and there
lay another dead. form ; but this time the wound was
on the head. They looked absolutely real ; but were
waxen figures of the martyrs Snn Yito and San
Leonzio. There was nothing horrible, nothing
grotesque, nothing disgusting ; only calm still

beauty.

In curious combination with the figures of the
saintly martyrs were the old Spanish glass chandeliers
hung in those caves in the rock. Tliey were like
Yenice glass, and seemed fitter for some grand old
palace of the Queen of the Adriatic than for those
rock-hewn cells.

Monte Sacro. 235

We observed this inscription on a picture of St.
Dionysius, in one of tlie rock-cliapels : — " El Senor
San Dionisio Areopagita, Obispo y Martir, primer
Capellan cle la Eeyna de Angeles y hombres Maria
S. S., y Patron de este Insigne Collex de Theologos
del Sacromonte." '-'The Senor St. Dionysius the
Areopagite, bishop and martyr, first Chaplain of the
Queen of Angels and men the most holy Mary, and
Patron of this distinguished College of Theologians of
the Sacro Monte."

Dionysius the Areopagite, who heard St. Paul's
sermon on the Unknown God, was believed, in the
Middle Ages, to be author of the celebrated work on
the Angelic Hierarchy, really, however, written in
the fourth century. Thus he is here called by the
quaint title of " First Chaplain of the Queen of
Angels." The system of theology ascriljed to him
was greatly esteemed in mediaeval times, so he was
naturally chosen as patron of an ecclesiastical
college.

The building is still used as a seminary of students
for the priesthood.

Another inscription states that St. James, or San
Tiago, as they here spell what we generally see as
Santiago, was believed to have said Mass here ! and
that San Cecilio, patron of Granada, and several of

2;^6 A Summer in Spain.

his companions and disciples were martyred and
buried here, in the second year of Nero, some on the
1st of February, and some on the 1st of April. They
showed ns a stone beneath which they had fonnd
plates of lead giving the history of all this; and,
among other things, stating that "Mary was without
original sin." They also found sacred vessels for oil,
for the bread and wine of the Sacrament, and (as far
as I could make out) a vinagrero. But whether that
meant a vinegar-cruet, a vinaigrette, or merely a
wine-bottle, T did not at first understand. Afterwards
I found that it was an Andalusian mispronunciation
for vinciffera, which is a stand for wine and for water,
used at Mass. All this, they said, was bin-ied in the
second year of Nero, possibly on the 1st of April ; on
the same day of which month, I think, it must have
been that the Archbishop, Don Somebody Castro,
discovered them again.

The church and college were founded in 1595, in
honour of these supposed discoveries, made in 1588.
There is a kneeling statue of Archbishop Castro,
which gives one the impression of being an excellent
likeness.

The walk back was enchanting, with the magnificent
view of the town, and the cathedral in the midst;
and, crowning all, tlio red towers of the Alhambra.

Funerah. 2,37

But our cross and weary guide did not appreciate it ;
he sighed and grumbled, and said times were changed
and greatly disimproved; formerly nobody walked
who could help it.

Another autumn walk was to the Fuente de los
Avellanos. The present name means " Well of the
ITutbushes," which abound near it; by some people
it is supposed to be the old " Fountain of Tears."
We first went do\vn the steep, rugged ravine which
separates the Alhambra from the Generalife. This
ravine is called the Path of the Dead, because the
funerals generally come up it. Those funerals are
conducted in a manner that seems very strange to our
ideas. They usually pass at night, and, as there is a
small wineshop on the way, the bearers always stop to
make merry. The first month of our stay, they used
to come up the Alhambra avenue at midnight, place
the bier on a bench at the door of the hotel, and dance
and sing, if singing it might be called, for hours.
This was quite against the laws, but nobody interfered ;
till one night, a lady who had just arrived from Malaga,
was wakened by the noise; and got so nervous at
this (as she considered it) bad omen so soon after her
arrival, declaring that she knew she should never
leave the place alive, that our landlord, who was a
magistrate, exerted himself to get this abuse put a

238 A Summer in Spain.

stop to ; and from that time the funerals came up the
ravine, and turned away to the cemetery without
passing the hotel. One evening we met a funeral in
the ravine ; it was a little girl, with white di-ess and
white wreath, lying on an open bier. She was very
pretty, and looked like a wax image. In this case,
they were carrying her quite quietly, without the
songs and merriment that seem so incongruous. Very
often a child is carried to its grave by children of its
own age ; but, sad to say, it is always the children
who behave the worst, dancing and singing in the
most boisterous way, and considering it all as a piece
of amusement. Probably, the idea did not altogether
originate in irreverence ; it may have arisen from the
belief that the death of a very young child, who has
committed no sin, is a subject rather of joy than of
sorrow.

In going to the Fuente de los Avellanos, one turns
to the right, after descending the Path of the Dead,
and goes up the valley, on the opposite side from the
Gipsy Town ; that is, without crossing the DaiTO.
Then a little path through the nutbushes leads to the
wells, of w^hicli tliere are three, at a short distance
from each other. The water is delicious, and the
view most beautiful, especially in coming back
towards Granada ; but the walk is rather too great

Regrets. 239

a favourite with the rough lower classes, to be so
agreeable as some others.

We were very sorry when the time passed on,
and we felt that we must rouse ourselves from our
dreamy life, and go out into the light of common day
again. Not that it was to be the light of common
day, either ; for it was to Cordova, the city of
Abdarrahman, that we were to go. Eut we had
got so attached to our beloved Alhambra, that the
thought of departure was very grievous to us. It is
true that autumn was coming fast, and many of our
friends had already gone in different directions ;
some to Malaga, some to Madrid, and some to
Gibraltar. Even the parrot, whose apartment was
on the first floor, just below ours, and who had
been such pleasant company during the hot hours,
had gone with his family to Alhama. He be-
longed to a lady who was ill, and who never left
her room ; so he found it rather dull. Accordingly,
one day when H. had got tired of her Spanish lesson
and was leaning out of the window, the parrot looked
up with one eye, while he closed the other and
screwed it up in a most comical manner, opening
the conversation by addressing H. as "Juan ! " "Si,
bonito loro!" ("Yes, pretty Poll !") responded H.,
with promptitude. " Yes, pretty ^^ assented the parrot

240 A Siwimer in Spain.

approvingly. From that time the ice was broken,
and the bird was ready to talk at all times ; and very
amusing he was. So when he departed to Alhama for
the baths, we missed his lively conversation so much
that we were quite ready to sing, "Ay de mi, Alhama!"
The waiters admired him much, and said, '^ He
speaks Castilian like ourselves :" the highest com-
pliment a Spaniard can pay anybody.

Our life had indeed been very pleasant during
those summer months; our morning walks in the
Generalife, our Spanish lessons dui'ing the hot hours,
in our cool room with the dark, metallic-green foliage
growing almost in at the window, and ever the gay
plash of the fountain ; the still sunny afternoons in
the Alhambra, where we were always greeted with
the kindliest smiles by the civil door-keeper,
who was very grateful to us for bringing bread
every day for his favourite cat, and where the
gold-fish in the tank of the Court of Myrtles had
got also to know us and our bread-crumbs, and
to eat out of oui- hands and swim through our fingers.
At first, they were exceedingly timid, diving to the
bottom if a shadow did but cross the water ; but soon
they grew so tame that, whenever w^e appeared, they
all came towards us open-mouthed, with theii' heads
up, and followed H. from one end of the tank to the

The Vermilion Toiver. 241

other, til] she looked like St. Anthony preaching to the
fishes.

All the people near, too, had become quite friendly ;
the gardeners who gathered their finest roses for us,
the peasants who cut great bunches of grapes and
gave them to us as we passed the vineyards ; the
man at the little shop, who was always ready to bring
out chairs when he saw me sketching, and who some-
times carried his civilities so far as to produce a
watering-pot, and water the ground all round me —
a piece of well-meant attention that I could have
dispensed with. Though last, by no means least,
there was the huge mastiff belonging to the hotel,
who poked his ponderous head into our hands in
token of affection, as we went out and in.

It was a trial to leave all this ; but if we lingered
here much longer, we must give up Gibraltar and
Tangiers, so we set to work to see everything we
had as yet omitted ; and went up, one magnificent
blood-red sunset, to the Torre de la Yela, the Watch-
Tower, which juts out from the furthest end of the
bold promontory on which the fortress is built. We
went also to another, called the Vermilion Tower,
though it is not by any means redder than almost all
the others, and less so than some. It is one of the
outer circuit, and stands near the Gomales-gate,

2,42 A Su7n7ner in Spam.

which shuts off the Alhambra from the town. It is

the oldest of all, being built long before the

Arab Palace ; indeed, more than a thousand years

ago. From it, the name of Alhambra, 'the Ked,'

took its rise; Medinah Al-hambra, 'the Eed City,'

as it was called. It is mentioned as ' Khalat Al-hamra,'

Hhe Eed Castle,' by an Arabian poet, in a.d. 864.

This tower is inhabited by quite a respectable family,

who keep pigs, and possess a dog, and are altogether

superior people. They were very civil, and invited

us into their kitchen-garden to examine the old waUs.

Indeed, all over Spain, if you get a glimpse of a pretty

garden, or picturesque patio, thi'ough a half-open

door, or if you have reason to suppose there may be a

fine view from any window in any house, of rich

, or poor, you may fearlessly knock, and politely

beg to be allowed to admii-e it. You will be

received with the utmost courtesy, entreated to

consider the house youi- own, and encouraged to

ramble through every room. If the family happen

to be at dinner or any other meal, they will ask you ;

" Do you wish to eat ? " You politely refuse, saying,

probably, that you have already dined; they then

say, " But won't you dine again ? " This also you

decline, with many thanks, expressing a hope that the

food they are eating may do them good. Even in

Farewell. 2/[^

the salle-a-manger of an hotel, a Spanish family will
often ask strangers to share their repast ; but, of
course, it is not expected that they should accept the
offer.

At last, it was time to go : we spent a last morning
in the glorious bowers of the Generalife, a last after-
noon in the fairy halls of the Alhambra, a last evening
in the moonlit garden of the Adarves. We bade fare-
well, with much sorrow, to the kind and gifted friends
who had made our sojourn so pleasant ; and at 2 a.m.,
on the morning of the 17th of September, we left our
Moorish paradise. Granada looked very beautiful as
we drove through it for the last time, the railway
station being quite on the other side of the town.
Surely, there never was a more inconvenient hour for
a start than two in the morning ; it is neither one
thing nor another, or rather, it is both one thing and
another. It combines all the disagreeables of early
rising and of sitting up all night. It is scarcely
worth while to go to bed beforehand ; and yet one
cannot sit up till 2 a.m., with nothing to do, when
everybody else is comfortably asleep. Yet such are
the railway arrangements ; it is the only train in the
twenty -four hours, so there is no choice. And in the
darkness we sped away to Loja, where, for the

ii2

244 A Sunmier in Spam.

present, the railway stops, and one has to go in a
diligence.

The motto of Loja is "a flower among thorns : " as
far as we could judge of it in the dark, it seemed more
to resemble a thorn among flowers, being an ill-
paved and rather squalid town among beautiful
scenery.

Much has been said of the terrors of that Loja road,
and probably in winter and spring it may be very bad;
but when we were there it was perfectly good, very
comfortable, and quite safe. Our fellow-traveller in
the berlina was an elderly Spanish gentleman, who
had spent all his life in Peru, and looked as if he were
made of india-rubber. He was exceedingly polite,
and finally presented us each with a very large bright
green apple, which he said came from Aragon. They
were excellent, with the flavour of an American apple,
from which we inferred that the original stock of the
American apple was brought by the Spaniards from
Aragon.

When we again took our places in the railway, the
Peruvian came into the same carriage. Presently, the
heat began, and I was sitting on the sunny side ; and
very different it was from cool Granada. But our
amiable fellow-traveller insisted on changing seats

yourney to Cordova. 245

with me, and sat heroically in the snn all the way to
Cordova.

The country was wild and lonely, all broken into
low, rugged hills. Every part of the way had some
history of encounter between Moor and Christian,
every rock had its romantic legend. One isolated hill,
rising out of the plain, with an abrupt precipice on
one side, is ' the Lover's Eock.' A Moorish maiden
eloped with a Christian knight, and, when closely
pursued across the plain, took refuge on the top of
this rock ; but the foe began to ascend it, there was
no hope, no retreat, and they sprang from the top
clasped in each other's arms.

We passed Antequera, celebrated in Moorish war-
fare, and soon after changed trains at Bobadilla, where
the Granada line joins that from Malaga to Cordova.
Now the character of the scenery altered ; it was more
open, with tawny slopes, agave thiekets, and dark
blue distances. We passed Montilla, noted for its
vineyards; and, more recently, since we left Spain,
infamous for some acts of horrible butchery perpe-
trated by the Eepublicans. It has another and better
claim to celebrity; the Gran Capitan, Gonsalvo de
Cordova, was born there, in the castle close to the
town.

246 A Summer in Spain.

As we drew nearer Cordova, the prickly pears and
agaves became more abundant ; and now we were in
a great plain, bounded by the dark purple of the
Sierra Morena; we crossed the Guadalquivir, and
entered the City of the Western Caliphs.

247

CHAPTEE IX.

The Couet ov Oranges— The Mosque — Cokdovan Silver —
Recently discovered Mosaic — Jtjan de Mena —
Necromancy — Palace oe Azzahra.

TiEED as we were with our night-journey, we went
out without loss of time, and walked through the still,
silent streets, where one could almost hear the beating
of one's pulse. The heat was intense ; it seemed as if
the air were thick, like hot gruel ; and a thunderstorm
was evidently gathering. But what did that signify ?
"Were we not walking towards the Mosque of Abdarrah-
man ?

And through the deserted streets we went, in the
overpowering heat, with the blinding white houses
round, and the inky sky above. The guide tried to
point out to us some objects of interest as we passed
on ; but we were, for the moment, totally incapable of

248 A Summer in Spain.

listening to a word lie said. A boy on a mule and
an old woman were the only living things we saw.

At last we came to the long, dead wall, with its
flapie-shaped battlements. "We entered, and were
in the Court of Oranges There stood the palms, of
which tradition says one was brought by Abdarrahman
himself from his dearly loved Damascus ; but, in truth,
I suspect Abdarrahman's palm is a thing of the past,
though he certainly planted the first that was ever
known here. There, at any rate, was the fountain at
which the Moslems were wont to wash before entering
the Mosque ; and there the great, old orange-trees,
with their weight of dark- green fruit. It gave one
the strange sensation which I have had elsewhere in
Spain, as if I had seen all this before, in childhood or
in a dream. It was like coming back to something
well known, but half forgotten.

It has been much disputed whether there were or
were not oranges in Spain in the days of the Caliphs ;
some people saying that they were only brought after
Yasco da Gama sailed round the Cape. It certainly
seems quite impossible even to imagine Cordova or
Seville without the green and golden fruit ; but this
feeling by itself would hardly suflS.co to decide the
point, critically or historically ; and the theory that
Andalusia was the Land of the Hesperides, and that

Oranges. 249

here Hercules (a great SiDanish hero) came for the
Golden Apples, can scarcely perhaps be admitted as
evidence. The first authentic mention of oranges is
by Avicenna, in his cyclopsediaj ' Kilat el Mainu ; or,
Book of the Sum Total.' Wow Avicenna, or Ibn-Sina,
was not a Spanish Arab, being a native of Bokhara.
But the works of Avicenna were always studied in
Cordova; consequently, the Spanish Caliphs must
have known of the existence of the fruit ; and that
being the case, we may well believe that they, who
possessed everything that luxury could give, would
hasten to introduce the orange-tree into their adopted
country. Besides, the wondrous palace, built by Ab-
durrahman the Great in the tenth century, was called
Azzahra ; and Azzaher, or Azaher, means orange-hlossom
in Spanish at the present day. The palace is said to
have been named from Zahra, a favourite Sultana ; but
the fact remains that this name also signifies the
orange-fiower. Possibly, the orange-tree was intro-
duced into Andalusia in the tenth century, about the
time that this palace was built ; but in all probability
this was only the bitter kind (of which the blossom is
the principal charm, and is indeed the most fragrant
of all,) while the sweet orange may have been brought
from Portugal, after the voyage of Yasco da Gama.
Leaving the question of the oranges, we entered the

250 A Smfwier in Spain.

Mosque, as the Cathedral is always called, and rightly
so ; for it is still, to all appearance, as completely a
Mosque as it was during the dominion of Islam. We
wandered through that strange forest of low pillars,
on and on, turning now here, now there ; and still the
endless vista stretched in all directions, before, behind,
and on every side : it was like walking through a dim
forest, where the branches enclose one bewilderingly.
There was no one, at that hour, but ourselves ; and
our own footsteps startled us. We sat down ; and,
tired and sleepy as we were, it was all a delicious
dream of the Arabian Nights. Always dark, to-day,
owing to the gathering storm, it was more so than
usual ; and, as the gloom deepened, a lamp was lighted
here and there, as if by invisible hands. One almost
expected to see the 4700 lamps, which illuminated it
in Moorish times, burst into radiance, and to behold
the prostrate Moslems at prayer. But, instead, the
white-robed choristers glided up, in the dim twilight,
and the vesper chant began.

It has been said that the modern choir quite spoils
the Mosque. Certainly, it does not improve it, and
would be better elsewhere. But nothing can spoil it,
short of pulling it all to pieces. In the first place, the
Mosque itself is not exactly beautiful ; it is strange,
and vast, and weird, and altogether unlike anything

The Mosque. 251

else ; but you do not feel that proportions are spoilt,
when you are so bewildered and awe-struck as to be
incapable of observing whether there are, or ever
were, proportions at all. Besides, the origiaal plan
was changed by the large addition made to the
edifice of the first Abdarrahman, in the reign of
Abdarrahman the Third. Another thing is that, so
far from the choir obtruding itself, it is extremely
difficult to find. Large as it is, it is lost in the enor-
mous space, and you may walk about the Mosque
half the day without ever falling in with it. When
you do find it, it is certainly exceedingly beautiful ; so
much so that I could scarcely quarrel with it for
being there, more especially as, by turning in the
other direction, I could as efi'ectually get rid of it as
if it had never existed.

Fortunately, too, all the finest part of the Mosque
is untouched, and remains precisely as it did when the
Caliphs worshipped here. The Holy of Holies is there
still ; the Ceca^ which was as sacred to the Spanish
Arabians as Mecca to those of the East. Here the
Moslems came on pilgrimage, and walked seven times
round it. The pavement is worn by the feet of the
many worshippers ; we felt the groove as we, too,
stood there. On the outside of the Holy Place is the
finest mos aic in the world ; it was a gift from Con-

2^2 A Summer in Spain.

stantinople, from the Emperor Eomanus the Second.
They brought candles to show off the exquisite
colours ; even in the broadest daylight, one could
scarcely, in that dusky chapel, see them sufficiently.

This mosaic must have been made expressly for the
Caliph, as it contains no representation of any living
thing; only the most graceful leaves and scrolls.
The colours are indeed unrivalled ; deep, glowing
crimson, and rich, vivid green predominating, along
with the brilliant gold now being revived in Venice,
who originally learned her skill in this art from the
East. "With regard to the avoidance of representation
of life, it appears that the Greek Emperor was, in
this case, more particular than the Moslems; for in the
Alhambra there are the portraits of Moors, and, more-
over, sculptured lions frequently occur. The Om-
miades were never so strict on this subject as other
Moslem races ; and were in all respects less bigoted,
perhaps from their perpetual contact with those of a
different faith.

It seems strange that the Greek Emperor, the pro-,
lector of Eastern orthodoxy, the successor of Con-
stantine, should have been on such friendly terms
with the successor of Mahomet, as the Ommiades
claimed to be. But the Western Caliphs, being
always on bad terms with those of the East, were the

The Mosque. 253

natural allies of tlie sovereign who reigned by the
Bosphorus ; who, truth to say, seemed always greatly
to prefer the gentle, polished, learned Arabians of
Spain, not only to the Persians, Syrians, and Turks,
who were always harassing and menacing the Eastern
Empire, but also to the wild Crusaders, who claimed
alliance with the Court of Constantinople.

The Maksurah^ or seat of the Caliph, is still there.
It is a magnificent chapel, of the most gorgeous
Moorish design ; and must formerly have been seen
to even more advantage, before they raised the floor,
thereby diminishing the height of the arches. The
path among the arcades by which the Caliph walked
from his seat to the Holy of Holies is marked by the
line of inscriptions on the cornice. Yerses from the
Koran, and "There is no God but God;" still do they
remain, in large gold letters, untouched by white-
wash. So far from obliterating this, the Cordovans
are proud of it, and take every pains to prevent it
being erased by time. The Mihrab, too, where the
Koran was kept, is still as it was when it held the
Book of the Prophet ; and much resembled the recess
in a Jewish synagogue which contains the Bible.

We stayed till the gathering darkness warned us to
go. The storm had not yet come, so we lingered in the
Court of Oranges, and then went out by the exquisite

254 A Summer in Spain.

Puerta del Perdou, the ' Gate of Pardon,' with its
okl Moorish door, inlaid with silver. Then, fright-
ened by the intense blackness of the clouds, we has-
tened home.

That evening the storm came in good earnest; it
hailed, and it rained, it thundered, and it light-
ened, as if heaven and earth were coming together in
one crash. It had this good effect, that it cooled and
cleansed the air, and checked the ravages of smallpox,
which had previously been raging to a fearful extent.

Next morning the sun again shone brilliantly, and
we hastened back to the Mosque. It looked even
vaster by the fuller light ; and the vistas in every
direction seemed interminable. They are now taking
off the barbarous whitewash, and the original painting
of alternate red and cream-colour is visible. About a
third of the Mosque is still white, so one can appre-
ciate the difference; it is curious how much Ihe
absence of colour diminishes the apparent size.

Almost every one of its thousand columns has a
marvellous history. Some are from the temples at
Carthage, some are Roman, others from Constanti-
nople. Two small yellow pillars are from Damascus,
and were much prized by Abdarrahman, eleven hun-
dred years ago. Some are said to be from the Temple
at Jerusalem, and on them the Saviour may have

The Mosque. 255

looked. Truly, the memories here make the pulse
beat and the eyes grow dim.

The columns are all monoliths, and of every ima-
ginable variety of material : alabaster, granite, por-
phyry, verd-antique, and the rarest African marbles ;
finest of all are the jasper ones, which are solid, and
I should think unequalled ; but they are so dim and
neglected, that it is only on examination that one sees
how precious they are. Their shape and size are as
various as the material : some thick ones are pared
away at the base, where they are stuck into the
ground ; those that are too short are provided with
very large disproportionate Corinthian capitals to
make up the difference, while others have no capitals
at all. Yet no sense of unfitness strikes one; all
combine into this strange, petrified forest, and one
would no more expect the pillars to be uniform, than
one would wish to find all the trees of the wood ex-
actly alike.

The sacristan had been prowling about for some
time, looking exceedingly mysterious. He watched
everybody out and in with intense interest; and
at last, seizing his opportunity, when nobody was
in sight, swooped down upon us. We naturally
thought he was going to turn us out as heretics ; but
instead of that he inquired in an agitated whisper

256 A Summer in Spain.

(quite unnecessary, as there was not a living creatiu'e
in the vast Mosque but ourselves), whether we wished
to see the Treasury. '' Certainly," we were pre-
paring to answer with alacrity ; but, without waiting
for our reply, he suddenly pirouetted round, and stood
with his back to us. Thinking he misunderstood, I
went after him, upon which he took to flight, and
concealed himself behind a column. Presently, he
came cautiously out, and began once more, ""Would

your worships like to see " but again he broke

off, and gazed at the roof with an air of abstraction.
" The Treasury," said I, innocently finishing the sen-
tence. "Hush!" said he, becoming excited, and
gazing nervously around. I began to think he was a
lunatic, and got nervous also, not at all understanding
the cause of all this. I looked about for an exj)lana-
tion, and saw three or four people advancing. They
turned in a different dii-ection, however; whereupon
the sacristan instantly became calm, and again sug-
gested the Treasury, adding that, as no Spaniards
were now present, he could safely open it. " Do you
never show it to Spaniards?" asked we. "Never,"
said he, " it would be ruin." He urged us to make
haste lest any Spaniards should enter; and indeed,
just as we got to the Treasury door, two girls ap-
peared. In an instant he and his key vanished ; but

The Mosque. 257

now we understood his tactics ; and presently he re-
appeared and unlocked the door.

Ko wonder they are careful how they let people in;
it is one of the richest treasuries I have ever seen.
There is a magnificent custodia of solid silver, and
i^ondrous workmanship ; very like, on a smaller, but
not a very small scale, the Sacraments-hauslein at
!N"iirnberg. The graceful Gothic architecture tapers up
and up, like the spire of a cathedral, and ends in a
slender flower ; and all in purest silver. There were
some beautiful episcopal crosses of silver, for carrying
in procession; and a profusion of lamps with silver
chains, and crosses, and crucifixes, and reliquaries, and
monstrances, and every conceivable cup and dish.
Beally, as in the days of Solomon, silver seems to
have been nothing accounted of in that era of Peru-
vian splendour.

We should have liked to sit all day in the Mosque,
lapped in an Arabian dream; but there were other
things that we wished to see. So we went up the
tower, which well repays one. It is detached, like
the Giralda at Seville, or Giotto's Campanile in
Florence ; or, indeed, like any Moorish minaret.
The roof of the Mosque is exceedingly curious, when
one looks down upon it, being much like the card-
houses children build. It is said that this roof was

258 A Siunnier in Spain.

originally flat ; but at present it exactly resembles
those of the Mosques in Tangiers at this day. From
the top of the tower one can also study the many
different forms of the Moorish battlements. They
were quite unlike any others we had yet seen : some
were like pyramids cut in steps ; others were singu-
larly notched and zigzagged ; in one place they were
shaped somewhat like a fleur-de-lis ; in another, they
were the true flame-form, which is so beautiful.

As we came out, we passed a very fine flamboyant
doorway, just opposite one of the entrances to the
Court of Oranges, and next the Archbishop's Palace.
It is the entrance to a hospital. Then we went away
to the Guadalquivir, where the broad, pale yellow
river comes down in a full flood of water, between
banks fringed with pale green. In summer, I believe
all is brown ; but a few autumn showers had already
changed the hue of the landscape. The bridge is
grand, with its irregular arches ; the foundations are
Eoraan, but the arches are Moorish, built in 719.
Just before one comes to the bridge is a modern gate-
way, of the time of Philip the Second, which, though
classical (Doric), looks wonderfully well. The worn,
worm-eaten look of the stone enables one to bear it
better. Here was anciently the Moorish Bab- Alcan-
tara, the Gate of the Bridge. What was once the

Cordova. 259

Alcazar is close at hand ; the Castle of Eoderic, the
last of the Goths ; there, till lately, was the dreaded
Inquisition. It is now a prison.

On the opposite side of the river is a beautiful old
fortified tower, intended to guard the bridge. It is
exceedingly picturesque.

We rambled all round the town, and saw and
sketched many bits of old wall, and enjoyed ourselves
thoroughly. Everywhere those brown towers, and
the violet-blue Sierra Morena, with its exquisite lights
and shadows.

Then we came back through the silent streets,
where the sunshine on the white walls was now
blinding. It was utterly lonely, but quite a different
character of loneliness from Toledo. There it seemed
a city of the dead; and not only of the dead, but of
the burnt-up : here, it was as though a deep sleep
had fallen on the inhabitants, caused, as appeared
quite probable, by the spells of an enchanter ; and,
some day, one might expect them all to rouse them-
selves, and resume the ordinary life and occupations
of the ninth century, instead of those of the nineteenth.
In the meantime one stepped lightly, for fear of
waking them too soon.

As we passed along, we could often see into the
patios, which were beautiful; quiet and dim, with

26o A Summer i?i Spain.

bright flowers, and a fountain that plashed slowly,
as if in a dream. But no living thing did we see in
those lovely courts ; the spell seemed on them all.
Once or twice we saw an old woman sitting in a door-
way asleep. The nearest approach to wakefulness
was in a donkey, that stood thoughtfully at a door, to
which he was tied with a rope ; quite a needless pre-
caution, as far as running away was concerned. But
even the donkey did not look altogether like a donkey ;
he might have turned into anything else, if you had
happened to hit upfln the proper magical formula
suited to the case.

We now went to an old house, where the guide
said the Gran Capitan, Gonsalvo de Cordova, once
lived. Through this we passed, and crossing a very
large court, or rather garden, full of huge old orange
and lemon trees, we entered the church of San Hip-
polito, where Alonso the Eleventh now lies buried.
"We had looked in vain, all over the Mosque, for his
grave ; and at length, on inquiry, we found it here.
Why it had been moved from the Mosque, or whether
it ever really was there, we could not leani. But
there are very few graves in the Mosque, and a curious
feeling seems to prevail among the Cordovans, as if
it were scarcely a Christian church yet, except in the
choir.

Cordovari Silver. 261

As we went home, we passed through the silver-
smiths' quarter, which is very unlike what a silver-
smiths' quarter would be anywhere else. Small,
dingy houses, which nobody could possibly suppose
contained shops of any kind, if there had not been a
few tarnished silver buttons in the window, do not at
all prepare one for the beautiful workmanship within.
In true Oriental fashion, the merchant begins, espe-
cially if there be any peasants or common people in
the shop, by saying he has nothing of the kind. At
length a sudden thought seems to strike him, and he
produces a drawer full of exquisitely worked silver.
It is in the style of the Genoese work, but much more
solid ; and it has a glistening look that is quite peculiar.
It is only the ornamental part that is well-made, how-
ever ; the clasps are beneath contempt, and break the
first time you touch them. This is partly owing to
the extreme softness of the silver, which bends like
leather. It is all made by women.

The silver once produced, the bargaining begins.
At first, he asked a great deal too much ; but, to my
surprise, at once took off about a third of the price of
some buttons, when I asked it. I was exceedingly
proud of this ; it being the first time I had ever suc-
ceeded in bargaining in any country. He was obdurate
concerning a bracelet, however ; probably because he

262 A Summer in Spain.

saw that I particularly admired it ; but, in his eager-
ness that I should buy it, he ran to the door, and
begged the passers-by (of whom there were but few)
to come in and give their advice !

Close to the Hotel a very interesting mosaic had
been discovered a few months before. It is in, or
rather under, a carpenter's shop, but not in a dark
fellar, as I had feared. The carpenter, with much
public spirit, had broken up half the floor of his shop,
and put a ladder, so that one could examine it very
well. It represents the Four Seasons, and is in the
best period of Roman art, as far as one could judge.

The Hotel (Suiza) has a large patio, with the porti-
cos supported by beautiful fluted Corinthian columns,
dug up on the spot. On the capital of one of these
pillars an Arabic inscription is carved. On this site,
in the days of Eoma Patricia, when Cordoba was
peopled by the poor and proud Roman aristocrats, as
opposed to the more democratic and thriving Seville,
the residence of the Roman Governor stood ; and
afterwards here was the Moorish palace of Abdarrah-
man.

The Cordovans are very proud of their city, and of
the great men it has produced ; and give their names
to the streets and squares. The Gran Capitan is
naturally their favourite ; they dont seem to care mucb

Juan de Menu. 263

about Lucan, but they greatly admire Seneca ; and,
next to him, Juan de Mena, who lived in the dawn of
S^Danish literature ; he was the most distinguished poet
of his time, and much esteemed at the Court of John
the Second, who was a sovereign of cultivated tastes,
and to whom Juan de Mena sent his verses to be
corrected.

John the Second, father of of Isabella the Catholic,
governed Castile, Leon, and Andalusia, from 1407 to
1454 ; and during his long reign was considered to
favour poetry and poets " more than was wise," as his
nobles thought. He himself made verses ; he loved
music, played, sang, and danced well. So say the
historians. His nobles do not seem to have objected
so much to the dancing and singing as to the verse-
making. Some of them did him justice, however.
" He was," says Perez de Guzman, " a man who talked
with judgment and discretion. He knew other men,
and understood who conversed well, wisely, and gra-
ciously ; and he loved to listen to men of sense, and
noted what they said. He spoke and understood
Latin. He read well, and liked books and histories,
and loved to hear witty rhymes, and knew when they
were not well made. He took great solace in gay and
shrewd conversation, and could bear his part in it."
He does not seem to have been altogether a book-

264 . A Summer m Spain.

worm either ; for, as Perez de Guzman goes on to
say, " He loved the chase, and hunting of fierce
animals, and was well skilled in all the arts of it.
Music, too, he understood, and sang and played ; was
good in jousting, and bore himself well in tilting
with reeds." Such was the sovereign in whose
favoui* Juan de Mena stood high.

All this poetry, and music, and learning was not
generally looked upon with much liking by the
warlike nobles. It was not in Castile as in
Barcelona, where, though the palmy days of the
Troubadours were past, the " Gay a Sciencia " was still
cultivated. The Castilians, on the whole, inclined to
consider poetry as nonsense; music sheer waste of
time : while, as to learning, that was the worst of all,
as the Black Art must certainly have something to do
with it. Another learned man (not a Cordovan, how-
ever), of the Court of John, suffered from those grave
imputations: Itenry, Marquis of Yillena, whose family,
at the time of his birth, possessed the only marquisate
in Spain, and who was cousin of both the King of
Castile and the King of Aragon. He it was who first
translated Dante's ' Divina Commedia ' into Castilian ;
and the King was so delighted with it, and his curi-
osity so raised on the subject of Virgil, that he desii-ed
Yillena to translate the ^neid also.

Necromancy. 265

But Villena's high position, as Grand Master of
Calatrava and near relation of the sovereign, could,
not save him from the suspicion of necromancy ; and
after his death his library was looked upon as some-
thing quite diabolical. In a letter concerning this
library, written by John the Second's confidential
physician to Juan de Mena, we read : " Two cartloads'
of books were carried to the King, and because it was
said that they related to magic and the unlawful arts,
the Xing sent them to Friar Lope de Barrientos ; and
Friar Lope, who cares more to be about the prince
than to examine matters of necromancy, bui-nt above a
hundred volumes, of which he saw no more than the
King of Morocco did, and knew no more than the
Dean of Ciudad Eodrigo " (who this illiterate Dean
was I have failed to find out) " for many men now-a-
days make themselves the name of learned by calling
others ignorant ; but it is worse yet when men make
themselves holy by calling others necromancers." He
then goes on to beg Juan de Mena " to solicit in his
behalf some of the surviving volumes from the King,
that in this way the soul of Friar Lope might be
saved from further sin, and the spirit of the defunct
Marquis consoled by the consciousness that his books
no longer rested on the shelves of the man who had
converted him into a conjuror."

266 A Summer in Spain.

Lope de Barrientos was a Dominican, confessor of
John the Second, and preceptor to his son, Prince
Henry ; but it would appear he really did examine the
books, as he afterwards composed a treatise against
Divination, in which he says that among the books
burnt was one called ' Eaziel,' from the name of the
angel who guarded the Gate of Paradise, and taught
the art of divination to a son of Adam, from whose
traditions the book in question was compiled. It is
curious that Friar Lope should not have seen that
magic learnt from an unfallen angel could have nothing
diabolical in it. Any how, it is evidently from this
affair that Cervantes took his delicious scene of the
burning of Don Quixote's library.

It was not in Cordova that all these things hajD-
pened ; yet this city seems to have been, according to
monkish theologians, a very focus of necromancy. It
was quite natural for people to suppose that what they
did not understand must be dangerous ; besides which,
the Moors had always been considered in a manner
sold to Satan ; and after Cordova became Christian,
the taint might linger still. Even Pope Sylvester
the Second did not escape this imputation of necro-
mancy ; and. Pope though he was, the question
was seriously raised whether he was to have
Christian burial or not : all because he had studied
at Cordova.

The Schools of Cordova. 267

In those schools, philosophy, medicine, arithmetic,
algebra, mathematics, music, and astronomy were
taught as they were taught nowhere else ; to them we
are indebted even for the common numerals now in
use, so easily understood by all nations, and much
simpler and better than the somewhat clumsy combi-
nations used by the Eomans, or the still more awkward
system of the Greeks, which was practically useless to
all imacquainted with the Greek language. Indeed,
all the learning of the Dark Ages was Arabian ; and
so celebrated were the physicians of Cordova that
Sancho, King of Leon, came here for medical advice,
and was cured of dropsy.

Here Averroes translated and expounded Aristotle,
while the writings of the Greek philosopher were as
yet unknown to the rest of Europe ; and they were
first studied in the West through an Arabic transla-
tion. It may have been partly the frequent intercourse
between the Eastern Empire and the Spanish Caliphs
that facilitated the study of the Greek language in the
schools of Cordova.

The Caliphs themselves greatly encouraged learn-
ing. Abdarrahman the Second was accustomed to
spend his leisure in conversation with philosophers
and poets. Music, too, he greatly delighted in ; and
sent to ]3agdad for Ali Zeriab, one of the greatest

268 A Sunwier in Spain.

musicians of the East. I wonder what sort of music
that was, so pri2;ed by the Arabians ! It could not
have been like the Andalusian songs (melodies they
cannot be called) of the present day ; which latter^
indeed, are thoroughly African.

The celebrated Library of Cordova is said to have
consisted of 600,000 volumes. What became of all
those treasures of knowledge ? If only some potent
spell coidd bring to light again all the lost libraries, all
the scattered manuscripts, all the pictures that have
vanished into the Land of Non-existence, all the
Greek statues that have been burnt into lime or melted
into money ! That indeed would be a collection worth
seeing. I should be well satisfied with one glance
into the dim caves where the glories that have been
are buried.

We had been advised to ride out three miles from
Cordova to see the Hermitages and the site of the
Palace of Azzahra, built by Abdarrahman the Third ;
but we preferred spending our few remaining hours in
the Mosque, especially as the noonday heat was still
very great ; and, moreover, not a vestige of the
splendid palace now remains, and even the site has
been disputed.

All the tales of the Arabian Nights fade into
nothing compared with the stories related of this

The Palace of Azzahra. 16^

palace. It was built by architects from Constantinople,
and all the marbles were wrought and polished there,
the Emperor presenting many of the columns. The
w^alls of the Hall of Audience were encrusted with
the finest marble, ornamented with gold ; in the
middle was a fountain surrounded with figures of
birds and quadrupeds, all of the finest gold, embossed
w^ith jewels ; probably in the style now termed
Byzantine work. Above this fountain was hung an
enormous pearl of priceless value, a gift fi*om the
Greek Emperor to the Caliph. In the garden was
another fountain which flowed, not with water, but
with quicksilver. Those gardens were said to be
delicious, and one can well believe it. The most
apparently incredible thing is, that at the great
entrance there was a portrait-statue of the beautiful
Zahra. This is very remarkable, not so much because
the Koran forbids the making of images ; for, as we
have seen, that was frequently disregarded in the
"West, and, at this period, even in the Eastern Cali-
phate, the coins were impressed with the figure of the
monarch ; but because it is so contrary to Moslem ideas
to allow all men to gaze on the face of a wife, and
especially of a favourite Sultana. However, one
gathers from Moorish ballads that there was not so
rigid a system of seclusion in Spain as elsewhere in
the Mahometan world.

270 A Summer m Spain.

Abdarrahman the Thirdj the possessor of all this
magnificence, wrote thus: " From the commencement
of my reign to the present moment, I have carefully
numbered the days of pure and genuine happiness
which have fallen to my lot ; they amount to fourteen.
I have reigned fifty years, beloved by my subjects,
dreaded by my enemies, and esteemed by my allies.
Riches and honours, power and pleasure, have waited
on my call, nor does any earthly blessing appear to
have been wanting to complete my felicity. In this
situation, and during this long space of time, I have
not been able to enumerate more than foui-teen days
passed without being imbittered with trouble and
uneasiness. man ! learn to make a just estimate
of this world and of the pleasure which it affords ! "

Such was the experience of Abdarrahman the
Great.

271

CHAPTER X.

Arrival at Seville — Cathedral — Crocodile — Giralda —
Alcazar — Euby of the Red King — Gardens — Museum
— Hospital of La Caridad — Library — Palace of the
Duke de 'Montpensier — Las Delicias — House of Mu-
billo — Palace of the Duke of Alva — Casa O'Lea —
Casa de Pilatos — Fruit-market — Protestantism in
Seville — Cartuja — Italic a.

Our journey to Seville was southern indeed, over the
brown plain of Andalusia ; we left the mountains,
and soon the only break in the horizon was here and
there, the stately flower of the agave. When we
drew near the station, we put out our heads to look
for the Giralda, and were horror-struck to behold
several tall chimneys sending forth volumes of smoke I
This was appalling, and upset all our preconceived
ideas. The Spanish proverb, ''Quien no ha visto

272 A Siwt?ner in Spain.

Se villa, no ha visto maravilla," signifies, in a free
translation, that until you have seen Seville you don't
know what it is to be thoroughly astonished ; and
this was precisely our case, for we were much and
disagreeably surprised. Surely Seville was not going
to be so utterly un-Spanish as to turn out a thriving
manufacturing town ! It was most disheartening.

Sadly we got into a cab (there were actually cabs)
and drove through distressingly modern-looking
streets, like those of some town in the south of
France. A thousand years seemed to divide us from
the sleepy, dreamy Cordova of the Caliphs.

We soon came to a small square, where a few
orange-trees in some degree restored our equanimity.
At the corner of this little square was the Hotel de
Madrid, to which we were going ; and, on entering it,
the beautiful patio effectually banished the smoky
chimneys from our minds. All white marble and
green leaves, and streams of water full of goldfish — it
was indeed very splendid and very Spanish. Under
the colonnades were most comfortable chairs and sofas,
and tables covered with Spanish newspapers ; and in
the evening lamps were brought out here. The rest
of the hotel by no means fulfilled this promise.
Upstairs the passages were dirty, and the rooms
dull, looking chiefly into a narrow and noisy street,

The CatJiedral. 273

exceedingly unlike our large, airy, and very clean
room at Cordova, with its pleasant view over the
Botanic Garden. The salle-d-manger, however, was
very pretty ; it was large and irregularly shaped,
being much narrower at one end than at the other,
and on the walls hung dark, old pictures. It opened
on the j)atio on one side ; on the other, there was a
vista of courts and gardens, in one of which the ser-
vants dined under the trees ; beyond that, one could
see the kitchen, which was like a picture of Bassano's,
with melons and cabbages lying about. But the
great charm was the azulejos, with which the room
was wainscoted up to a considerable height. They
had been brought from old houses, and were singu-
larly fine ; the colours were chiefly blue, green, and
bright orange patterns on a creamy white ground, and
the combinations of form were endless.

Next morning we hastened to the Cathedral. We
soon passed through the Frenchified street in which the
hotel is, and entered a very large and perfectly re-
gular square ; an uncommon thing in Spain. The
centre space was entirely filled with orange-trees,
which, in spring, must be delicious with fragrance.
This is the best situation for invalids in winter, it
being very sunny. We passed out at one corner of
this square, and found ourselves in one of the filthiest

274 -^ Summer in Spain.

streets I have ever seen. This is a rare evil in
Spain, where the streets are generally clean ; in Cor-
dova, especially, they were beautifully so. Small,
mean, dirty shops were on each side ; nothing could
be more unattractive : when we turned a corner and
the Cathedral was before us. Huge, and grim, and
grey, it rose far into the deep blue sky, more like a
rugged mountain than a building in its stupendous
size. The outside is more grand and stern than
beautiful; the gigantic buttresses seem to oppress
one ; and the cold grey colour looks strangely out of
keeping with the golden sunlight.

"We entered ; and stood in the most majestic cathe-
dral in the world. There is nothing like it ; it cannot
be compared with any other. Breathless and awe-
struck, we wandered among those magnificent aisles,
in the dim, coloured light of the wonderful windows.
I really almost felt that, in Spain, I had for the first
time seen what stained glass is. In many other
places there are some beautiful windows, but there
are so seldom enough of them ! So often some dull,
badly restored window, or a dirty pane of white
glass, covered with cobwebs, mars the whole efi'ect.
But in the Spanish cathedi-als it is all perfect. I do
not think that in those of Seville or Toledo there is
one window that is not wholly of the most gorgeous

The Cathedral. 2,75

gem-like hues. It is very remarkable and exceed-
ingly satisfactory that a Spanish revolution never
takes the form of breaking church-windows. All
here are fine : St. Peter is especially so, in a robe of
deep and glowing purple ; but the finest is the Con-
version of St. Paul. The peculiar iron-grey of the
stone gives wonderful effect to the windows, which
look like a mosaic of dark rich jewels.

At first one scarcely knows what gives the Cathe-
dral its overwhelming grandeur. On a second visit
one can observe the enormous span of the arches,
the huge pillars that lose themselves in the dim dis-
tance, the stupendous height, and, above all, the ex-
traordinary width, not only of the nave, but of the
seven aisles. I have seen other Gothic cathedrals as
long, or longer ; but never any at all approaching to
it in width.

This peculiar form is owing to the Cathedral being
built on the site of the old Mosque, whose plan it has
in some measure retained. Kothing else remains
except one most beautiful horse-shoe doorway, which
leads from the Court of Oranges. The present edifice
was begun under Ferdinand and Isabella, when the
power of Islam was waning fast in Spain, just twelve
years before the fall of Granada; and was finished
in the astonishingly short time of thirty-nine years.

T 2

276 A Summer in Spain.

But the old Mosque had more interesting historical
associations than this, the ijiost magnificent temple on
earth. It was in the old Mosque that the funeral of
St. Ferdinand took place, when the Xing of Granada
sent a hundied of his knights to do honour to the
royal dead ; and for long after, when the last day of
May came round again, the hundred Moorish knights
again rode down the steep mountain paths from
Granada, and stood, with lighted tapers in their
hands, round the regal cenotaph, while the funeral
Mass was sung, and the requiem sounded among the
low pillars where so lately the Moslem had wor-
shipped.

In a very different time, and by a very different
sovereign, was St. Ferdinand laid in the splendid
silver sarcophagus in which he now rests, — in the
early part of the dreary eighteenth century, by Philip
the Fifth, a King who was not even Spanish. But
the original tomb is there still, with its epitaphs in
Spanish and Latin, Hebrew and Arabic. I should
have lilced to have been there on one of the three days
on which there is Military Mass, and the troops
march into the Cathedral, and lower the colours to
the dead monarch. The sword of the Eoyal Saint
is still there, and the iron-gilt key of the city, given
by the Jews, the day Seville surrendered. The

The Cathedral, 277

Arabian key, which was of silver-gilt, with the
inscription, in Arabic, " May Allah render eternal
the dominion of Islam in this city," has disappeared,
but there is a model of it, I do not know if it had
been stolen, or perhaps hid somewhere for safety.
The Banner of Spain still hangs proudly above the
grave of the conqueror of Seville.

In the same chapel are buried his Queen, Beatrice
of Suabia, and his son, Alonso the Wise, who com-
posed the epitaphs on his father's tomb. A hundred
years later, Maria de Padilla, Pedro the Gruel's long
unacknowledged wife, was also laid in that most
regal of regal places of sepulture, among the greatest
and best of her husband's race.

So occupied were we with St. Ferdinand, and all
the chivalrous memories of those old days, that it
was long before we could go to look for the many
fine pictures existing in the Cathedral. And when
we did, it was no easy matter to find them in the
dim light ; not that it was exactly dark, but the aii'
seemed thick with glowing colour. At last we met
a delightful old friar, who told us that now that he
was turned out of his convent, he had no pleasure,
except in the Cathedral. He stayed here all day, he
said ; and there was one altar that he always kept
in order, with candles burning on it; not that he

2,78 A Summer in Spain.

was paid for doing so, he was not a sacristan ; but
he saved a little of his pension to buy the candles.
If we would only come to the other side of the
church, we could see how nice his altar looked ; but
his great difficulty was to prevent people taking away
the candles ; not that perhaps they meant to steal them,
but for some other altar. So we went with him, and
it was indeed very well cared for. He then took us
into the different chapels where the pictures were.
One very fine one is Santiago on his white horse,
when he fought at Clavijo, as Castor and Pollux did
at Lake Eegillus. It is by Juan de Eoelas, and is
really magnificent, as the saint dashes along,
trampling down the Moors, and scattering them
to right and left. Of course, it is in the Chapel of
Santiago.

We were rather disappointed in the celebrated St.
Anthony, by Murillo ; the light is not good, and it is
difficult to see it well. Not so with Murillo's Guar-
dian Angel : it is perfectly lovely ; the angel bends
tenderly and anxiously over the child, who looks up,
half obedient, half heedless. A long ray of light
comes in from one of the doors, and strikes this picture,
bathing the angel in a golden glory.

At the back of the High Altar is a good Luca
Giordano, the soldiers throwing the dice for the

The Cathedral. 279

Saviour's coat. But the picture that pleased us most
after the Guardian Angel, was a Madonna and Child,
by Alonso Cano ; it is the best of his that I have seen,
and very, very sweet and still.

The old monk then pointed out a very curious lock
on one of the doors ; he was exceedingly proud of it,
because it had been made by a friar. He then con-
signed us to the sacristan, who showed us the great can-
dlestick used with the thirteen lights at the Miserere
in Holy "Week. It is bronze, of exquisite workman-
ship ; the figures of the twelve apostles are at the top,
alternately with the candles. We saw the massive
silver Custodia, which is fine, but the form is not so
graceful as that of Cordova. It was made about
seventy years later than the Cordovan shrine. There
were also very rich and splendid vestments ; artisti-
cally inferior, however, to the delicately shaded needle-
work of those we had seen at Toledo, which were as
fine as if they had been painted.

Under the pavement of the nave, midway between
the great entrance and the choir, is buried the son of
Columbus. The ship in which the great discoverer
first sailed to America is sculptured beneath one's
feet ; a strange, high-prowed galley, or caravel. The
inscription runs thus, '' A Castilla y a Leon, Mundo
nuevo dio Colon : " " Columbus gave a new world to

28o A Summer in Spain.

Castile and Leon." After all, when one considers all
the wrongs of the Indians, all the sufferings of the
negroes, all the dark pages of the history of that fair
Western World, where there has been more wrong,
more bloodshed, more cruelty, more tears, in the few
centuries that have elapsed since its discovery than in
a thousand years of our old hemisphere, one is inclined
to doubt if Columbus was indeed such a benefactor to
humanity. To the Spaniards he certainly was not :
all the gold of Mexico, all the silver of Peru was poor
payment for the guilt they incurred in their treat-
ment of their new-found subjects ; and, from that day
to this, the star of Spain has slowly but steadily
waned. Her best days were from the time of St.
Ferdinand to that of Ferdinand and Isabella.

But, however, it is quite certain that, if Columbus
had never existed, America would have been dis-
covered by somebody else long ere now; and the
natives must have disappeared gradually, as the New
Zealanders are doing at this day, before the force of
civilization. There can be no far-oif land now, beyond
the setting sun; no ''Island of the Blest," where
steamers don't touch at least once a fortnight. So all
honour be to the great Genoese ! He did his work
nobly and well, amid countless sorrows and dis-
couragements. And one is glad to think that, in spite

A Crocodile. 281

of all these discouragements, all those sorrows, he
must have been, on the whole, happy in so doing.
Such work as that is its own exceeding great reward,
and the hour in which he fii'st descried the distant
shore, the moment in which his foot first touched it.
must have been well worth all his toil ; although he
was afterwards obliged to write (in prison, too) a
treatise to convince the Inquisition that the existence
of America was not contrary to the Scriptures.

"We did not go out by the great entrance, but
through the old Moorish gate, and found ourselves
in a dark corridor, where we were rather startled by
the apparition of a crocodile hanging in mid air. This
was the identical animal sent by the Sultan of Egypt
to Alonso the Wise, in hopes of inducing him to give
him his daughter in marriage. It was in pretty good
preservation, and looked very well, though cer-
tainly an unusual feature of ecclesiastical architec-
ture.

From this corridor one passes into the Court of
Oranges, which is small compared with that of Cor-
dova, and has not quite the same dreamy charm. Yet
in spring, when the white, fragrant blossom is out, and
in winter, when the trees are covered with golden
fruit, it must be a pleasant place to linger in; but the
great height of the Cathedral makes it seem insigni-

2,82 A Sunwier in Spain.

ficant. Those Moorish Courts of Oranges harmonize
better with the low-roofed Mosque than with the
lofty Gothic Cathedral.

"We wandered about here for some time, looking in
vain for the entrance to the Library; and, in our
search for it, went into the Lonja, or Exchange. The
patio is magnificent ; but, finding out our mistake, we
did not penetrate further. It was built the year after
the first Eoyal Exchange of London ; but the Arch-
bishop of Seville, who advised Philip the Second to
found it, nevertheless felt constrained to apologize
for following, in this, the example of heretics. In the
upper story are the Archives of the Indies, said to
be a mine of yet unexplored information.

At length, as we could not find the Library, we
had to go back into the Cathedi-al, and apply to the
obliging old friar, who showed us the entrance, in an
exceedingly dark corner of the con-idor. It was not
yet open ; but they very good-naturedly unlocked it
for us at the unusually early hour of ten minutes past
eleven — eleven o'clock being the proper and legal time
for doing so. We wished to see the manuscripts
of Columbus, but they are too valuable to be left
lying about, and the chief librarian was not there.
"When did he come?" "Sometimes at one time,
sometimes at another ; possibly in five minutes, per-

The Giralda. 283

haps not for two hours." "Did he stay when he
came?" "Sometimes he did, and sometimes he did
not." This was not very satisfactory; but they
brought us some fine illuminated missals to console
us. After waiting a little, we began to think it
hopeless, and went off to the Giralda, saying we
should come back next day about one o'clock.

The ascent of the Giralda, in spite of its great
height, is a very easy matter ; as, for the greater part
of the way, a mule or donkey could do it without
difficulty. We did not venture to the very top, that
being fearfully dangerous; it can only be done, at the
last, by clambering up little steps cut on the outside,
without any parapet whatever, at the height of 350
feet from the ground. The guide said nobody could
get up there ; it was not for men, it was only for birds
("para los pajaros"); but, of course. Englishmen
could do that or anything else ; he had seen a young
Englishman go up, and he (the guide) had felt giddy
ever since.

There is really no occasion to run the risk, as one
can get so very near the top without either trouble or
danger, and the view, where we were, is quite as
good. The only thing that one does not see is the
Giraldilla, that is, the figure of Faith, turning round
and round with every breath of air. A strange and

284 A. Suimner in Spain.

unfortunate symbol to choose for a weathercock! I
suppose the idea was taken, with alterations for the
worse, from the Moorish one at Granada, where an
armed Moor turned, and pointed his lance in the
direction of the wind. The tradition was that when
the figure should be removed or destroyed, the
dominion of Islam should be at an end in Spain ; and
so it really was. But the Moorish knight pointing to
the wind was a happier thought than that of Faith,
holding the banner of Constantine, and whirling round
and round. Still, I should have liked to examine the
figure.

As that was impossible, we had to content ourselves
with admiring the great pots of lilies, in beautiful
iron-work, at the four corners of the platform where
we stood. The pot of lilies is one of the emblems
sacred to the Virgin ; thus one often sees it painted at
the edges of pictures of the Madonna. Those here
are very graceful ; they are so large as to be in some
measure distinguishable from below, yet the work-
manship, though bold, is not coarse, even when quite
near.

Strange to say, the view was what we cared least
for. Seville itself lies as on a map below one, but the
only architecturally striking buildings are this very
tower on which we were standing, and which we.

The Giralda. 285

therefore, could not see ; and the cathedral, which is
too near. It was interesting, however, to look down
on the roof of the cathedral, and thus more fully
appreciate its enormous size ; while far below us lay
the Court of Oranges, which, on the contrary, looked
exceedingly small. As to the country round Seville,
nothing could be uglier ; it is a great plain, with no
mountain-horizon, no vegetation, no colour. It is not
brown enough to look Spanish, nor yellow enough to
look African, nor green enough to be pleasant to the
eyes. Above all, it is not fertile ; the inhabitants
took good care that it should not be so, when they
destroyed the Moorish system of irrigation. So the
great river, the Guadalquivir, flows sluggishly along,
with water enough to make the whole plain a paradise,
like the Vega of Granada. As it is, it does not
attain the dignity of desolation ; it is only dull.

This Mueddin tower of the Moslems may have
suggested the idea of the Campanile of Florence ; but,
beautiful as the Giralda is, Giotto's slender tower is
far more so. At the time the Florentine Campanile
was built, the Giralda was only 250 feet high, the
additional hundred feet being a comparatively modern
erection : Giotto's tower is 275, and, as originally
planned, would have been 370 feet in height. The
decree of the city of Florence commanded him to

286 A Siunmer in Spain,

make a tower that should exceed in height and rich-
ness any in the world ; thus it almost seems as if
Giotto had wished to rival the famous tower of Islam,
if indeed he ever heard of it.

The foundations of the Giralda are said to be
fragments of Eoman and Christian sculpture. At the
time the Giralda was built (1196) the only Christian
sculpture that could possibly have existed in Spain
must have been executed between the time that Eome
became Christian and the days of the Arab invasion ;
so that probably little of value was broken up for that
purpose. As to Eoman works of art, it is likely that
the fragments in question were chiefly architectural,
taken from the Eoman city of Italica, close at hand.

On our way down we turned aside to look at the
works of the great clock ; the weight is a funny little
figure of bright steel, with a crown on his head, and
a long pole with a ball at each end, in his hand ; he
poises himself jauntily on one foot, and balances him-
self backwards and forwards, making a low bow one
moment, and the next kicking up his heels scorn-
fully, like some mischievous sprite controlling the
destinies of Seville. This clock was made by a
Franciscan friar in 1764 ; it replaces one that dated
from 1400, which was the first ever put up in Spain.

We now went to the Alcazar, whose high dead wall

The Alcazar. 287

gives no promise of the beauty within. The Moorish
palaces are not like those of Yenice, "the wealth
within them " does not " run o'er ;" but, on the
contrary, is carefully concealed inside. Here it is
very rich and splendid, and has been well restored
by the Duke de Montpcnsier, in the style of the
Alhambra, but of much coarser workmanship ; the
colours, too, are rather raw and glaring. It was all
whitewashed in 1813, and the restoration of the
colours is not yet quite complete; they are still working
at it, and the paint-pots were lying about. Conse-
quently, what was white was rather too white, and
what was red or blue was almost distressingly bril-
liant ; very unlike the mellow tint of the Alhambra,
where, except in the bathi-oom, the colours and gilding
have not been retouched since Boabdil went forth
from the Siete Suelos Tower.

Still, it was very beautiful and very gorgeous ; and
though restored, has been little altered since Pedro
the Cruel lived and committed murders here. Some
of his bloody deeds may be palliated by the cir-
cumstances of the time, but two were particularly
treacherous : the murder of his brother, the Master
of Santiago, whom Maria de Padilla in vain tried to
save; and that of the "Eey Bermejo," the Eed Xing
of Granada, who sought shelter at his court and was

288 A Summer in Spain.

put to clonth by Pedro's command, in order to take
possession of his jewels. It is true that Abu Said,
the Ecd King, was a usurper, and probably the jewels
belonged rightfully to the crown of Granada, and not
to him at all ; but still, to receive a guest with feigned
cordiality, and then murder him, was so contrary to
all the laws of Oriental hospitalit}'^, not to speak of
those of Christianity, that it was no wonder Moslem
and Catholic alike looked upon him as a monster.
The jewels that caused this horrible act were superb.
Among them were three splendid rubies; one of
them, called the "balax" or balas-ruby " of the Eed
King," is probably the finest in the world, and may
now be seen in the Tower of London, as the centre
stone of the royal crown of England. It was given
by Pedro the Cruel to the Black Prince. This jewel
was much prized by Queen Elizabeth ; she showed it
to the ambassador of Mary, Queen of Scots, and he
describes it as '' a fair ruby, great like a racket-ball."
The Spanish chronicler says, those rubies were as
large as pigeons' eggs ; but the one in the English
Crown looks larger, as it is now set. There is no
record as to what has become of the two others.

It would be interesting to know when and how
those gems came into the possession of the crown of
Granada, and their previous history. Were they

Ruby of the Red King. 289

brought by Abdarrahman from Damascus ? or of what
city, of east or west, were tliey the spoil? Eubies
are rather a rare stone in old collections ; nor are they
very often mentioned in history. Sapphires seem to
have been the chief jewel among the Goths ; and we
read much also of emeralds of extraordinary size.
Among the spoils brought back to Damascus by Tarik
was an emerald table of prodigious size, and emerald
cups were not uncommon ; though some people, dis-
believing the existence of such enormous precious
stones, have conjectured that the table may have been
of some sort of ancient glass. In the East red jewels
were, during the crusading times, sometimes regarded
as amulets; and this "exceeding great ruby" may,
very possibly, have been considered to have magical
virtues. It is strange that Pedro should so easily
have parted with this stone, after thinking it worth
while to commit a treacherous murder for the sake of
obtaining it.

Whatever were his faults, Pedro was a staunch
ally of England ; and, it is said, regretted that the
marriage which would have made him brother-in-law
of the Black Prince never took place. The fair young
English bride, daughter of Edward the Third, had
got as far as Bourdeaux, and in a few days they
would have met. But a more awful one than even

290 A Summer in Spain.

the ferocious king received her first — the Black
Death. She arrived at Bourdeaux late in the even-
ing, and by next morning she was dead, a victim to
that fearful pestilence.

It must be said also, in Pedro's behalf, that he had
a miserable childhood and youth, with much to
embitter him against human nature. His father^
Alonso the Eleventh, chivalrous sovereign though he
was, behaved extremely ill to his wife and son, treat-
ing them almost as prisoners, while he kept court with
Leonora de Guzman, at Seville, in this very Alcazar.
It was not then, however, the gorgeous Oriental
palace it now is ; those Moorish halls were built by
the terrible Pedro, who seems to have been more
Moslem than Christian in his predilections, though
much more treacherous and bloodthirsty than any of
the Spanish followers of Islam. But, at any rate, he
had an excellent taste in architecture, and sent to
Granada, where the Alhambra was but just finished,
for Moorish workmen.

The gardens are perfectly enchanting, with flowers
of every kind in profusion, troj)ical shrubs, orange and
lemon trees, fountains and fishpools. Some of the
fountains require caution, for the jets of water spring
out of the gravel walks, close to one's feet, without
the slightest warning. Here and there the paths are

The Museum. 291

bordered with little, low, broad walls, of which the
top is covered with Moorish azulejos, and forms a com-
fortable seat : in some shady spots it becomes a kind
of sofa, with a back to lean against ; and in those
places the azulejos are in the form of a chess-board,
black and white ; so that one could play at chess
or draughts in those delightful bovvers. The terrace,
which opens from the window of the upper story,
must be pleasant in winter ; but even as late as the
21st of September, the heat was so burning that
we could not stay there a moment.

IN'ext day we went to the Museum to see the
Murillos. Our expectations were very highly raised,
and I think we were a little disappointed at first.
It is true there are twenty-one pictures undeniably by
Murillo, besides some others that are doubtful ; but,
fine as many of them certainly are, not one can be
called a masterpiece. They are placed in the chapel
of an old convent, and the light is extremely bad : it
is only about noon that they can really be seen at all ;
and even then but one at a time is distinctly visible.
One has to sit opposite each picture in succession,
waiting till the solitary ray of sunshine falls on it,
then for an instant it is bathed in brightness ; the next,
all is again dark, and it seems blotted out. If one
misses the exact moment, there is nothing for it but

ir2

292 A Sum7ner in Spain.

to come back next day and try again; and in
dark, wot weather it is no use to go at all. The
pictures are also excessively dirty ; but they have this
advantage, that they have never been retouched nor
overcleaned.

The only others that struck us were the Zur-^
barans, which are the masterpieces of this artist..
None but he could make such pictures out of subjects
so apparently unpromising. It does not seem as if a
group of Carthusians, with little variety in their faces,
no colour, no brilliancy, nothing to contrast with the
monotonous white of their robes, could be interesting
or beautiful. Yet such is the magic of this painter's
genius, that those cold shadowy figures attract one,
even among the glowing tints of Murillo.

In the court of the Museum is some Eoman sculp-
ture from Italica. The architectural fragments are
beautiful, consisting chiefly of very fine Corinthian
capitals : the statues are not remarkable in any way j
but they are so badly placed that it is difficult to
judge of them.

A far finer Mui'illo than any in this Museum is
' Moses Striking the Eock,' in the Hospital of La
Caridad. It is, indeed, a masterpiece, and one of the
finest pictures in the world. The Spaniards call it
* La Sed^ ' Thirst ; ' and it is well named. Each group

The Library. 293

is perfect in itself, without interfering with the unity
■of the whole. In one, a woman pushes away her
child, and drinks the water greedily herself. Yet,
powerful as the picture is, there is nothing horrible ;
it is most beautiful, and pleasant to look on withal,
because you feel that the terrible thirst will surely be
-quenched : you rejoice, as they do, in the abundant
stream of water flowing from the rock.

Originally, here were the splendid Murillos that
Marshal Soult carried away, which are now the glory
-of the Louvre. But the Miracle of the Loaves and
Pishes, another good picture by the same artist, is here
still. There are also two exquisite small ones, the
little St. John and the Infant Saviour.

At the appointed hour we went back to the Library,
and, to our surprise, found the librarian ready to
receive us. He brought us the manuscripts of
Columbus, and the book that he took with him to
read on his first voyage. It is a description of the
world (Tractatus Imagine Mundi), and has marginal
notes in his own handwriting ; in one he says, '' No
one is secure from adversity."

This library is called the ' Columbina,' and was
presented to the canons of the cathedral by the son of
Columbus. They seem to prize it much, and keep it
in excellent order ; but I do not think many people go

294 -^ Sic7nmer in Spain.

to read in it. The memory of Columbus is greatly-
revered now in Seville, if that could make amends for
the ingratitude with which he was treated when alive.
Probablyj jealousy of him as a foreigner and an Italian
contributed to this bad treatment ; no native of Italy
has ever prospered in Spain. The French are dis-
liked and feared by the Spaniards ; the English are
rather liked in some places, and very much respected
in all ; the Germans they simply know nothing about ;
but the Italians they wholly detest.

In the afternoon we went to see San Telmo (as they
here spell St. Elmo), the palace of the Duke de Mont-
pensier. It was formerly a naval college, founded by
Fernando Columbus. It is a pretty house, and there
are some beautiful pictures in the rooms. One of
Murillo's finest is there, the Virgin de la Faja ; it is
very lovely. There are also many good modern pic-
tures by German artists, especially by Lehmann.
One room is entirelj^ furnished with mother-of-pearl ;
chairs, tables, everything. The collection of Moorish
pottery is fine ; some of the plates have a ruby lustre,
but none are so magnificent as those we had seen at
Granada.

The gardens are quite different in character from
those of the Alcazar, and much more like this every-
day world. They have nothing Moorish about them,

Palace of the Duke de Montpensier. 295

l)eing planted only in 1682. But it is a pleasant
place, with plenty of shady walks, and more oranges
than I ever before beheld. In one part flowers are
carefully cultivated, with tidy borders, and neat
gravel-walks ; not in the usual Spanish style, where
a garden is generally a wilderness of sweet blossoms.
The gardener showed us very triumphantly two
young dragon-trees in pots ; he said they were ' chi-
quititos,' an affectionate diminutive much used by
Spaniards in speaking of any little creature they are
very fond of, such as a child, a kitten, a puppy- dog,
or a young nightingale. He appeared to consider
them as sentient beings, and to treat them accord-
ingly. In truth, the dragon-tree is no common plant :
there are, as far as I am aware, but two full-grown
ones in Europe; the very fine specimen in the
Governor's garden at Gibraltar, and one in Lisbon.
When they are young, like those at San Telmo, they
are much like young palms; but the stem is quite
smooth, instead of being scaly, and the leaves are
more like those of the Yucca. When they grow old,
they become more strange and weird than a fantastic
dream; the branches are like huge, misshapen,
swollen limbs, and the whole tree seems a creature
half animal, half vegetable, as if it were under the
spell of some evil magician, or malignant fiend.

296 A Summer in Spain.

They put us in mind of the doleful forest in Dante's
Inferno, where each tree enclosed the soul of a sinner,
and bled when the branches were broken off. In
this too they were like, for if the bark of the dragon-
tree be pierced, the sap flows crimson, like blood;
and when it heals, it leaves a scar exactly like that of
a wound.

In a shady space we came to three tombs of old,
grey stone, with trailing ivy growing about them.
The gardener pointed to the one in the middle, and
said, " That is the tomb of Don Juan Tenorio."
Probably we looked stupid; for he added, "Your
worships doubtless know his history very well."
Eather ashamed of our ignorance of the lives
of Spanish worthies, we replied that we did not.
"No!" said he, ^' do your worships never go to the
theatre ? " beginning to sing the last act of ' Don Gio-
vanni ! ' It had certainly never occurred to us that
the hero of Mozart's opera was otherwise than
mythical ; but here was his grave, a very handsome
sarcophagus, much prized by the Duke de Mont-
pensier !

The gardener said the other two graves were ' the
Commendador and Dona lues,' as he called them,
and that all three had been in an old church now
pulled down, which had been anciently the burial-

Las Delicias. 297

place of the Tenorio family ; tlie Duke de Mont-
pensier had saved them from destruction and brought
them here.

These Tenorios seem to have been generally either
very bad, or very good and great. One of them was
Archbishop of Toledo in the fourteenth century, and
was a benefactor to the city, inasmuch as he repaired
both the bridges over the Tagus, one of which had
been completely broken down. He also built one of
the chapels in the cathedral, and otherwise beautified
it.

From the Garden of San Telmo we went out into
the Delicias, the public promenade of Seville. "We
had heard much of its charms, but to us it appeared
only very moderately delicious. In spring it is pro-
bably in greater perfection ; when we saw it, it looked
rather dusty and forlorn. It is close to the river ; but
here the Guadalquivir is not beautiful ; it is sluggish
and dirty, with shabby houses and workshops scat-
tered about its banks.

After the first day or two our guide had become so
unbearable that, as we were to be ten days in SeviUe
and had plenty of time, we resolved to do without
him altogether. He was not stupid, but was in-
tolerably lazy, and said we must not fatigue him !
He refused to go out except in a carriage, and,

298 A Stcmmer in Spain,

^finally, made such exorbitant demands in return for
very small services, that we were glad to get rid of
him. We now found that the cabs, which had dis-
tressed us on our arrival, had their bright side ; and
the cabmen proved quite as intelligent, and much
more civil and trustworthy, than the guide. Even
when, as sometimes happened, they did not know
some of the places we wished to go to, they took
pleasure in finding them out for us.

One of the most interesting of the old houses of
Seville is that of Murillo. It stands far away from
all bustle and noise, in a little sunny Plaza, close to
the wall of the town, and now belongs to Dean
Cepero, a man of cultivated tastes, who takes pride in
preserving all the memorials of the great artist.
Here Murillo died, on the 3rd of April, 1682, of the
injuries he received in falling from a scaffolding in
the church of the Capuchins at Cadiz, while painting
the Marriage of St. Catherine.

The house is charming, with a lovely patio and
delightful garden, still, even at the end of September,
ablaze of splendid flowers, on a background of thick,
dark foliage ; there are curious fountains, too, and
remains of frescoes, some of which are said to be by
Murillo' s own hand. On the other side, the windows
look on the old city walls ; and, beyond that, over a

Palace of the Duke of Alva. 2,99

wide plain covered with tall reeds. The view is not
much ; but with that intensely blue sky and golden
sunshine, even the bending, whispering reeds had a
strange charm. One was glad to think that Murillo
had such a pleasant dwelling. The rooms were deli-
cious, opening on the beautiful court ; they were com-
fortably furnished, and full of plants and flowers.
Upstairs were some good pictures, especially an Ecce
Homo, one of Murillo' s very finest works.

Another delightful place is the old palace of the
Duke of Alva, all neglected and decayed though it be.
The azulejos at the altar of the chapel are unrivalled
with their glorious golden and ruby lustre. There is
a charming tangled old garden, with thickets of
myrtle and jungles of orange and lemon trees ; the gar-
dener gave us branches of the myrtle, and sweet lemons,
which are a most disappointing fruit, quite without
flavour of any kind. The fountains are broken and
out of order, but robed in a drapery of the loveliest
maiden-hair ferns. This palace is one of the Casas
Solares, as those houses are called which were ac-
quired at the time of the expulsion of the Moors,
and was originally much larger, consisting at one
time of eleven patios ; but part of it is now inhabited
by poor families.

The most Moorish of all those old houses is the

300 A Summer in Spain.

Casa O'Lea, which is in the same style as the Cuarto
Eeal of San Domingo, in Granada. The Moorish
stucco-work is in perfect preservation, and the rooms
are inhabited and comfortably furnished. We hesi-
tated about asking admittance, as the family were at
home, and just going to breakfast; but the servant
politely insisted that we should go in, and showed us
everything. The house was still arranged for summer,
the family inhabiting the ground-floor, which was
furnished with slight bamboo chairs and sofas, and
esparto matting ; but they were on the point of migra-
ting upstairs for the winter. There are no fireplaces
in a Seville house ; but the upper rooms face the
south, and are provided with thick, warm cui'tains,
carpets, and portieres.

I have certainly never seen anywhere such delight-
ful houses as those in Seville. They are all much on
the same plan, though some are, of course, more richly
furnished than others. All have the patio, as at
Granada ; but those at Seville are far more splendidly
decorated : one peculiarity is, that, instead of the
jealously-closed door prevalent elsewhere, there is a
gate of prettily wrought iron in open work, so that,
in passing along the street, one can quite easily see
into all the houses. Sometimes there is a screen that
is put up when the inhabitants are at meals ; at other

Palace of the Marqids de Parameres. 301

times they do not seem to care about being looked at
by the passers-by. The peeps into those white marble
courts, with their fountains, and shrubs, and flowers,
are very picturesque, and unlike anything one sees in
other places.

The most splendid modern palace we saw in Seville
is that of the Marquis de Paramares, of the Alarcon
family. Though new, it is built in the most perfect
imitation of the Moorish style, combined with the
utmost luxury of soft carpets, gorgeous damask hang-
ings, and French mirrors. In some of the rooms the
walls were covered with very good modern pictures,
chiefly of wild forest-scenery, or winter landscapes,
all snow and ice. Then one raised a crimson or pale
blue satin curtain, and stood in an Oriental hall, orna-
mented' with arabesques and delicate fretwork. The
court was thoroughly Moorish, with its slender pillars
and graceful arches. On the other side was a small
but pretty garden, into which the drawing-rooms
looked.

Half of Seville must be taken up with those gar-
dens, for' every house of any pretension has one;
besides at least one court, and often three or four, all
with flowers and shrubs. Consequently, the town
covers a very large space in proportion to the number
of inhabitants, and from a height looks more like a

302 A Siwimer i7i Spain.

scattered suburb of immense extent than like a popu-
lous city. The distances, too, arc very great, as we
found when we walked to the Casa de Pilatus, it
being exactly at the other end of the town from our
hotel. We were, however, well repaid for our
trouble. It is an exceedingly curious and interesting
place, and the azulejos are very remarkable for their
extraordinary beauty and variety. The little garden
is full of bananas, and other tropical plants.

But a full account of Seville would be but a repeti-
tion of marble courts, and light colonnades, and
fretted arches, and ruby-lustred azulejos, and great
orange and lemon trees, and myrtle thickets, and
flashing fountains, and every bright flower and fra-
grant odour ; and ever the sapphire sky and the southern
sunlight gilding the ' Marvel of Andalusia.' For
such it really is, in spite of the slight disappointment
caused at first by the smoky chimneys and the
modernised streets near the railway-station. The
more one penetrates into it, the more one sees its
wondrous beauty.

But when it rains, — well, it does not very often
rain, and it is better so ; for, with the most cheerful
disposition in the world, it would be difficult to
appreciate Seville when the sky is black, and the
streets are running like rivers, and the air feels like

The Fruit-Market. 303;

a hot, wet sponge. And if the stranger goes there,
as we did, about the autumnal equinox, he must not
be surprised if such is sometimes his experience.

One morning, after a night of heavy rain, which
had cleared the air and cleaned the streets, we went
to the market-place, where the fruit is an extraordi-
nary spectacle. Huge piles of melons were the prin-
cipal feature ; and really I had no idea that there
could be so much of that particular fruit in the
world. The market-place was crammed with every
variety of them. At a distance it looked as if further
progress must be impossible ; but, on coming nearer, we
we found we could pick our steps among the heaps of
yellow and green globes that lay like cannon-balls in
an arsenal. The excellence and variety of melons in
Andalusia is quite astonishing. Some are yellow
without and green within ; others, on the contrary,
are green without and yellow within : some are rough,
others are smooth and glossy, while many are spotted
and speckled. The common water-melon, with its
dark green rind and crimson pulp, is very abundant.
The best of all is the musk-melon, of which the out-
side is greenish, and the inside palest pink. But all
are good, and all are eaten to a startling extent.
They are eaten at breakfast, of course ; many people
begin with one slice, and all end with two. At

304 A Stcmmer ifi Spain.

dinner it is usual to eat a slice after the soup, and
two or tkree, or indeed any quantity, at desserts
Besides that, a slice of melon is refreshing at any
hour of the day ; and the poor people live upon them,
with bread, almost entirely during the season, which
lasts, more or less, for five months. The only time
that a Spaniard never eats melon, or indeed any other
fruit, is late in the evening ; they consider it then
almost poisonous.

From the melon-market we went to the shopping
street of Seville, the Calle de las Sierpes, the ' Street
of Serpents.' Why it has this unpleasant name I
know not ; at present there are no snakes, but only
little shops like booths. The Spaniards call all shops
tiendas^ tents ; and formerly, I suppose, the merchants
did really pitch a sort of tent in the bazaar. We
bought fans, which were very pretty and extremely
cheap ; and orange-flower water, agua de azaher^ which
is a speciality of Seville, and is indeed deliciously
fi-agrant. The shop-people were much surprised that
we did not rather buy Parisian perfumes.

On our way home a friend who was with us took
us to see the new, or rather, newly-arranged Pres •
byterian church. It is very beautiful, having been
first a mosque and then a Eoman Catholic church.
We expressed surprise that the Catholics had made

Protesta7itism in Spain. 305

no difficulties about selling it to the Protestants, but
were told that they had recently sold another church
to be made into a theatre !

Protestantism seems to make more progress in
Seville than elsewhere in Spain. There is an English
church, and in connection with it is a school for
Spanish children, which is well attended and very
well taught. In the Presbyterian church there is
service in Spanish every Sunday, and a great many
Sevillians go. There seems to be much less preju-
dice against Protestantism here than in Granada;
partly because there has for many years been a much
greater influx of strangers in Seville, and partly be-
cause the Andalusians, properly so-called, are of a
gentler disposition than the Granadinos. The har-
mony among the Protestants here is very remarkable;
there are no bickerings, no heart-burnings. The
Episcopalians are as proud of the splendid Presby-
terian church as if it were their own, though their
place of worship is only a small and simple room.
This perfect unanimity produces the happiest effect
among the Romanists, who in many places are greatly
shocked at the disputes and quarrels which too often
arise among the Protestants.

One afternoon towards the end of our stay in
Seville we drove out to the Cartuja, now desecrated

3o6 A Sum?ner in Spain.

and made into a pottery. The roof is fine, but the
church is so completely filled up with potters' wheels,
that all else is quite spoilt ; it makes one sad to see
such ruin. At a short distance, on the other side of
the road, is a little chapel surrounded with flowers ;
in it the siller ia^ or seats of the choir, are of most
beautifully carved wood, by Cornejo, the Grinling
Gibbons of Spain. But, on the whole, it is not
worth the long, dusty drive through the disagreeable
suburb of Triana.

Another day we spent at Italica, which well
repays one for the still longer drive. But in this
case it is only the first part of the way that is uninter-
esting, though even on the 28th of September the
heat was burning, and the sun blazed with a fierce-
ness that made one rejoice it was not one's fate to
spend July and August in Seville. The country
round is a great plain covered with stunted grass,
more grey than green in colour, mixed with the
glaucous tint of the agaves, and their yellow and
brown blossoms, tall as a young tree. The sky was
too completely saturated with sunlight to be blue ; it
was of a pale metallic hue, as if the heavens were
iron. A faint line of azure marked the distant
Sierra ; the air trembled and quivered in ripples of
heat, while the great yellow, sluggish river lay seem-
ingly still as a lake.

Italica, 307

We were glad to arrive at Italica, and seek shelter
under the broken arches of the amphitheatre. Here
Spain seemed to have sunk under the earth, swal-
lowed up by the stroke of some necromancer's wand ;
and we were in Eome, among the Imperial ruins.
We felt very much at home, and sat in the shade till
the sun lowered ; then we scrambled all over the rows
of seats, which are still tolerably perfect. The door-
keeper was quite a character. He asked much and
eagerly about the Eoman Coliseum, and then repeated
a great quantity of Spanish poetry to us. His house
was a curious little place, almost hidden by flowering
shrubs, and we sat on a stone among them, joined by
two dogs, that seemed to take a great and intelligent
interest in the poetry and conversation.

The amphitheatre is in a lonely situation, quite
apart from the almost invisibly small village which
now occupies the site of the city founded by Scipio
Africanus, the birth-place of Trajan and Adrian. It
is quite possible to go to Italica and also to the con-
vent of St. Isidore, not far off, without perceiving that
there is a village at all, or a house of any kind.

At St. Isidore we had great difficulty in getting in ;
but at last we found some white-washers, who were
at work in some part of the building. One of them
very good-naturedly went to look for the door-keeper

3o8 A Sum^ner in Spain.

and key of the cliurcli ; but neither of them were
apparently at hand, for we waited long. At last' the
door was opened, and we entered. There are the
tombs of the noble Guzmans ; and amongst them that
of the founder, Alonso el Bueno, the hero of Tarifa.

It is still a grand castellated pile, and looks strangely
lonely in that great plain ; for, as I before said, the
village, if there be one (of which we had no ocular
demonstration), is invisible from the convent.

The drive home was delightful, in the cool of the
evening, with Seville lying before us, all pale rose-
colour in the dying light, and the deep purple haze
stealing over the wide horizon.

This was nearly our farewell to Seville. On the
last day of September we left it, and sped away to
Cadiz.

309

CHAPTER XI.

Cadiz — Church of the Capuchins— Murillo's last Pic-
tures — Cathedral — Polite Boys — Journey to Algeciras
— Sugar-canes — First view of Gibraltar — Rambles on
the Eogk — Monkeys.

The approach to Cadiz is somewhat like that to
Venice, inasmuch as, after crossing the level plain,
one gets among the lagoons, and has a general im-
pression of going out to sea. Eut here the fields are
covered with low, bushy clumps of fan-palms, in-
stead of the reedy grass of the Adriatic shores, and
the hedges are agave instead of acacia. The snow-
like salt-fields are a curious feature in the landscape ;
and finally one seems to leave the land entirely be-
hind one. The causeway on which the railway is
made is in the form of a half-moon, white and shining

3IO A Suvuner in Spain.

as silver; at the end of this silver crescent lies Cadiz,.
like a pale pink sea-shell.

Unlike many other maritime towns which are beau-
tiful only from afar, Cadiz is as bright and fresh and
clean when entered as when seen from a distance.
It is one of the few towns in Spain that has really
handsome streets. The houses are very high, which
is unusual in Andalusia : they are said to be white-
washed every year ; but, as far as we saw, they were
washed certainly, but not white, being generally of
different shades of pale yellow, pink, and lilac. They
have not, however, the beautiful patios of Seville;
the fact being that Cadiz, built on what is practically,
though not really, an island, cannot afford room for
the oriental courts and gardens of the rest of Anda-
lusia. This want of space accounts also for the great
height of the houses.

There is not a great deal to interest in Cadiz, but
we were never weary of the beautiful Alameda, with
its thi'ee or four tall palm-trees, and its wide view
over the violet sea ; and the port, full of shipping and
boats of every kind, with the glittering houses look-
ing like white sea-foam.

Of course, we went to the Church of the Capuchins
to see the picture Murillo was painting when, in his
anxiety to judge of the effect of his work, he re-

Chu7'ch of the Capuchiyis. 311

treated back and back, till, at last, one step too much,
and the old man was lying on the pavement below,
not killed, but sorely hurt ; never more to touch the
canvas with magic colour, but to be carried back to
his sunny home in Seville to die.

This fatal picture, the marriage of St. Catherine, is
very beautiful ; it is exactly as Murillo left it, nearly
finished, but not quite. Another superb picture by
Murillo, in this church, is St. Francis receiving the
Stigmata. We preferred it to most of those in the
museum at Seville. In San Felipe Neri is a very fine
Concepcion, also by the same artist. But one of his
most interesting, though not one of his finest pictures,
is a work that he had in hand at the time of his
death. It is in the church of the Merced, and repre-
sents San Gaetano. The head of the saint only is by
Murillo ; the rest by his pupils. It is a curious little
church altogether ; the sacristy has the roof beauti-
fully painted with garlands of leaves, and lovely
angels peeping out. The angels are, however, much
more like cupids, and recalled some of Albani's bright
creations. The whole thing looked so little Spanish,
and so extremely Italian, that we were amazed. On
inquiry, it turned out that they were by an Italian
artist. How different the genius of the two nations
is ! The doll-like, over-dressed Madonnas, the

312, A Sumftier hi Spain.

crucifixes in petticoats, and the dark, fierce, wild-
looking saints of the Spanish school are indeed unlike-
the chubby, dimpled, merry little angels we were now
looking at.

We went to the cathedral, which is handsome in
its way ; somewhat in the style of that of Granada,
being classical, and excessively ornate Corinthian.
The woodwork of the choir is exceedingly beautiful, ,
having been brought from the Cartuja at Seville.

In the Museum are some beautiful white-robed
Carthusians by Zurbaran ; and one or two tolerable
pictures by other artists. This was not, however,
enough to detain us long from the pleasant Alameda.
Strange to sa;y, this charming walk was generally
quite empty ; being deserted for the more fashionable
Plaza de Mina, where the band plays. This Plaza is
a pretty garden, with very large pepper-trees and
plenty of seats ; but we thought the Alameda much
more delightful.

Of Cadiz a remarkable fact must be chronicled;,
namely, that the street-boys are politeness itself!
"When I was sketching on the Alameda, a few of them
came up ; they did not tease, however, taking care to
stand behind me, and punctiliously stoning any
smaller child who came between me and the view.
They were chiefly anxious as to whether I was going.

Polite Boys. 313

to put " the Saint " into my drawing ; this so-called
saint being in fact a copy of the Faun of Praxiteles.
At last, a few drops of rain began to fall, whereupon
some of them helped me to close ujd my paint-box,
while another held my umbrella carefully over me !
And all this without asking, receiving, or seeming in
the least to expect any recompense.

Pleasant as Cadiz was, we were anxious to get on
to Gibraltar. But that is not always an easy matter ;
Spanish steamers are very uncertain ; and the land
route, if it existed, which seemed doubtful, was by
all accounts frequently impracticable. Of course, we
were told that the best steamer on the line had sailed
the very day we arrived ; and at first we could get no
information about any other. At last we heard that
one was to sail next morning ; but by this time the
wind had risen so much that H. began to look grave,
and it was reported that the steamer would not ven-
ture out. We now made serious inquiries about the
land route, but were solemnly assured by everybody
that it did not exist, or at any rate existed only as
far as Tarifa. The unanimity of opinion on this sub-
ject was remarkable : usually, false witnesses differ ;
but, in this instance, they agreed in the minutest
particular. The diligence went only as far as Tarifa ;
after that, one had to ride. All this exactly tallied

314 ^ Summer in Spain.

with what people from Gibraltar had told us was the
case. We naturally believed it ; but as we were
walking along one of the streets, I happened to look
up, and saw " Office of the Diligences between Cadiz
and Algeciras " written over the very door we were
passing. This was precisely what we wished to as-
certain about ; and here we were assured that the
carriage went the whole way without change. The
truth, as we afterwards discovered, lay somewhere
between those two extremes. "We found, to our an-
noyance, that we could not have the whole berlina,
as we wished ; one place being already taken. We
were told, however, that this unwelcome occujDant
was a " caballero de edad, muy apreciable," that is,
a highly respectable elderly gentleman ; so, as the
storm was increasing every moment, we took the two
remaining places. When we got back to the hotel,
everybody, landlord, landlady, and waiter, were in as-
tonishment, and said they had never heard of this
diligence, and hoped, for our sakes, it might be so ;.
but they evidently disbelieved its existence.

Next morning at five a.m., when we heard the wind
howling, and other travellers departing, we congratu-
lated ourselves that we were not obliged to get up
and face the storm. But very soon it calmed, the
day was faultless, and we began to doubt if we had .

yourney to Aigeciras. 315

acted wisely. On rising from dinner, a Spanish gen-
tleman, with the lowest of Castilian bows, expressed,
in a well-turned speech, the hope that we might
make our journey "with as little inconvenience as
possible, and without novelty^ Novelty, in Spanish,
is synonymous with misfortune : " No hay novedad,"
literally, " There is no novelty," means that nothing
disagreeable has happened. Truly, there is much of
the character and history of a nation to be found in
the peculiarities of its language.

Late in the afternoon we started on foot (as is the
Spanish custom), with a porter carrying our luggage.
When we got to the railway station, having hurried
prodigiously, we found we were an hour too soon ; so
we went and sat on a log near the port, sketching.
Though October it was as hot as summer. From
Cadiz to San Fernando, where we were to find the
diligence, is about half an hour: there our troubles
began ; the diligence was small, what professed to be
berlina was but an open coupe, and our fellow-
traveller looked clumsy and cumbersome. But he
could not help being clumsy, and he was inclined to
be polite, and anyhow there was no remedy ; so we
took our places. No sooner had we, with great
difficulty, got ourselves and our possessions in, than
the carabineers appeared, and requested the keys

3i6 A Summer in Spain.

of our boxes, to open tliem. These we distinctly
stated we should on no account give ; whereupon they
begged us to get down and open the boxes ourselves..
To this also we objected, and ^peseta soon settled the
matter.

We started, and after about an hour's drive got to
the entrance of Chiclana. Here we were told to get
down and walk, as the street was full of holes. And
full of holes it certainly was. I cannot imagine how
they got the diligence along. Holes is a mild ex-
pression; they were trenches, pits of unknown depth.
We walked to the other end of the village, and then
stood waiting for the diligence to come up. It seemed
a very long time ; at last a sausage-seller, whose shop
was not yet closed, kindly brought out a small bench,
on which H. and I, with a Spanish lady, who was one
of our fellow -passengers, found room.

Chiclana is a very fashionable watering-place; so it
is the more remarkable that the principal street should
be in such a lamentable condition. On asking why
no attempts were made to fill up the holes, the answer
was, " What would be the use of that when the
government maybe changed to-morrow?" We sug-
gested that the next government, whether Eepub-
lican or Carlist, would not dig up the holes again ;
but we were told, with a solemn shake of the head,.

Journey to Algeciras. 317

that it was not easy for strangers to understand those
things, in which latter opinion we quite agreed with
our informant.

At length the diligence came up, and we again
mounted. To sleep was, however, rather a difficult
matter. The road was rough, and the carriage so
badly hung, that one's head was knocked about like a
shuttlecock. The "respectable elderly gentleman"
smoked perseveringly the whole night, and burnt
large holes in my dress, but he did not mean to
annoy us; on the contrary, he politely roused me up
when we were passing Trafalgar, to compliment us, as
English, on the victory.

We rattled on, the horses occasionally sticking fast
in some more adhesive pit than usual, till daylight
dawned on our sleepy heads and bruised limbs. A
grand, rugged outline of mountains rose before us,
not dim and distant, but seemingly close at hand. I
asked the mayoral what Sierra that was. "Africa"
. was the laconic but very satisfactory reply. It was
delightful ; there it was. Mount Abyla, the " Mount of
God," the southern Pillar of Hercules, rising mag-
nificently into the clear sky. Clear, but very cold ;
it seemed hard to be frozen in sight of Africa ; but
such was likely to have been our fate if the mayoral
had not kindly wrapped us up in manias.

3 1 8 A Summer in Spain.

We soon arrived at Tarifa, and were once more
summoned to descend. Here we were to change
diligences, and get into a smaller one, though it was
not easy to see how a smaller one could contain us.
We, however, got down, though no other diligence
was visible ; and now recommenced the process of
waiting in the street. No inn, no buffet, nothing
to eat or drink ; fortunately, the weather was fine, but
if it had rained, or if the noonday sun had been
burning us up, it would have been all the same ; we
must have waited without shelter. A good-natured
woman brought out one chair, on which we both sat,
at the gate of Tarifa, with all the luggage lying
heaped up in the middle of the road. Our fellow-
passenger meanwhile feeling cold, had attired himself
in a huge railway rug, with broad black and yellow
stripes, and walked up and down, looking like a
Bengal tiger on its hind legs. After a long delay the
new diligence came up, not apparently very much
smaller than the other, but with no place for luggage.
As we got into the coup^ we anxiously inquired
what was to become of our property. " Oh ! it will
come on with cavalry^'' was the answer. We felt
grave, never having contemplated leaving our pos-
sessions in this manner, at the gate of Tarifa; but

yourney to Algeciras. 319

ihere was nothing else for it, so we drove off, and
abandoned them to their fate.

The drive was now very pretty, and exceedingly
pleasant. We began to thaw a little in the morning
sun, and the diligence, being less heavily loaded, did
not swing so much. Besides, the road was decidedly
better than anything we had yet experienced since we
left San Fernando. I asked why the carriage had been
changed, as the road was so good. The mayoral only
shook his head and pointed onwards. We still pro-
ceeded along in great ease and comfort, when all at
once every vestige of a track stopped. Now there
was nothing before us but a very steep hillside, inter-
spersed with bushes, stones, and young trees. In
some places, but not everywhere, the way was faintly
traced out, and that was the utmost that could be said
of it. I am now quite convinced that it is impossible
to upset a Spanish diligence ; if the thing could have
been done, it must have happened us that morning.
Hattle, swing, bump, jump, we went down the hill;
the scenery was pretty, but by no means so " glorious"
as the guide-books describe it. There were cork-
trees, but scarcely enough to be called a forest; nor
did we see any wonderfully fine ones. We observed
very curious ferns growing luxuriantly on the trees,
and should have liked much to examine them. After-

320 A Stwwier in Spain.

wards we learnt that it was the hare's-foot fern, and
found some of our friends at Gibraltar making them
grow on flat pieces of cork.

Presently, we were again requested to descend, in
order "to walk across the river." ''Certainly," said
we ; " where is the bridge ? " " There is no bridge,"
said the man, looking as if he thought we were
lunatics for proposing such a thing. After all, the
fiver was not broad, nor very deep, and there were
stepping-stones : still if we had fallen in, which might
easily have happened, we should have got exceed-
ingly wet ; and, moreover, I don't suppose it was
anybody's duty to pull us out again. I wonder why,
in Spain, they so seldom combine bridges with rivers.
"We saw many bridges without rivers, and still more
frequently, as here, rivers without bridges. But
except in the cases of the Guadalquiver, the Tagus,
and the Ebro, we rarely saw the two things in
juxtaposition. "We had to walk a little way, after
crossing the stream, and it was very pleasant in the
bright morning sunshine among the wild flowers.
In spring they must be lovely ; for even at this
season we found abundance ; among others, great
quantities of heather.

When we got back into the diligence, our travel-
ling companion grew eloquent on the subject of sugar-

Su^ar- Canes. 321

canes. He was going to Algeciras to lay out sugar
plantations on the at present bare and rugged slopes
immediately above the little town. He pointed out
to us a few patches already planted with the " sweet
■canes," as the Spaniards call them. I never saw so
vivid, yet delicate a green. Everything else pales,
or looks russet beside it. We were told it kept so
--always, never fading nor changing, and that soon the
whole hillside would be covered with it, an English
Company having bought the ground for the purpose.
As yet those slopes wore a very scrubby appearance :
no flowers, no grass ; absolutely nothing but brown
earth and a few coarse weeds. As we drew near
Algecii'as, the scene was very strange. This brown
uncultivated land reaches almost to the entrance of
the town, or rather, large village ; for it is unwalled,
and looks as if somebody had thrown down a quantity
of rubbish and stones in that wilderness by the sea-
shore. There is only one road to it ; and that would,
•elsewhere than in Spain, be considered anything,
rather than a carriage-road. On the other side there
is not even a path : the streets end in a field ; not
-a very green one, certainly, but still a field. Near
the entrance to the town we got among the sugar-
canes, the only green things visible; and the road
was bordered by a thicket of wild castor-oil plants,

322 A Summer in Spain.

"with their great russet leaves. The little inn is on
the port, next door to the diligence-office. It did
not look very inviting, having rather a seafaring
appearance ; but it was really very comfortable, with
its English landlady, excellent tea, and delicious
fish.

The great attraction was the view of Gibraltar,
which we now saw for the first time. It was not
at all like what I expected. Somehow, I had ima-
gined a blufi" promontory ending a line of rocks, with
its whole top surmounted by fortifications, all stony
masonry and bristling cannon. In short, I thought
it would be like any other fortress, but larger and
stronger. Then I was not at all prepared for its
being so exactly like an island. From Algeciras,
the neutral ground is invisible, because it is level
with the sea ; and the Eock seems completely de-
tached from the Spanish coast. I was also much
surprised at the wildness of the scenery ; its beauty
does not become apparent till one gets nearer. The
clear atmosphere deceives one too as to distance ;
and consequently the Eock looked lower than I ex-
pected. At night the eff'ect of the lights in Gibraltar
was very curious and beautiful; it was exactly like
a gigantic necklace of diamonds.
About an hour after our arrival, our luggage ap-

Algeciras. 323

— — ^ — ■

peared with "the cavalry," which consisted of two
very nice-looking mules. The boxes were neatly
packed in huge rope-nets, and looked a great deal
safer than when on the rickety diligence. The mules
did not seem at all tired ; as soon as they were
freed from their burden, they began to caper about
like kittens.

After breakfast we went out to look about us,
and came to the conclusion that Algeciras was a very
odd place. The streets, tolerably wide and regular,
and pretty well paved, all things considered, end
abruptly, as I before said, in a field where there is
not even a track. On one side is the sea ; on the
other, the only road, a very bad one, among the
sugar-canes and castor-oil plants ; all else is a stony
field, on which the late rains had brought out a few
tufts of grass here and there. Behind, the brown
uplands, without a leaf or blade of vegetation of
any kind ; beyond, the jumble of hills over which
we had just passed. There, indeed, the colour was
wonderful, almost fierce in its wild grandeur ; dark
stormy purple, burnt-up yellow, ashen grey. It had
that look which I have observed in some other parts
of Spain, as if it lay under the weight of some awful
doom. Countries have an expression, as the human

Y 2

324 A Siunmer in Spaiji.

face has ; and Spain, truth to say, even in her beauty
sometimes wears a frown.

Next day we wont over to Gibraltar in a little
steamer. We were delighted at being required to
declare ourselves British subjects ; when we offered to
show our passports, the reply, in undeniable English,
was, "All right, ma'am; no occasion." What a
bustle and hubbub there was at the Waterport ! and
how very unlike Spain it was ! and yet with a Spa-
nish sky and Spanish sun, and almost African vege-
tation. We proceeded to the Clubhouse Hotel,
where everything was quite comically English; a
mixture of comfort and dinginess, worthy of an old-
fashioned London hotel. A very old-fashioned one,
though ; for the march of railways has changed all
that. The only other place I have been in for many
years that in the least approached this antiquated
state of things was the inn at Hanover, with its dingy
furniture of the time of the Georges. It was very
comfortable, though, and the views from the rooms
are magnificent ; one of ours looked over to Africa,
Mount Abyla, and the whole range of the Riff; the
other, up the Eock to the old Moorish Castle and the
fortifications.

We spent some delightful days, taking long walks on
the Rock; up to the Signal Station, with its uninter-

Rambles on the Rock. 325

rupted view in all directions; to the Eock Gun, where
the precipices are really appalling ; but our favourite
was the wild, steep, lonely path behind Europa Point,
among the fan-palms. Oui* sketching-permit enabled
us to ramble unquestioned wherever we pleased.
We often lingered, however, in the lovely Alameda,
the most beautiful public walk in Spain, or perhaps
in the world, with its enormous stone-pines spreading
their thick shade over the undergrowth of scarlet and
pink geraniums (which here grow wild), and its mag-
nificent views of Europe and Africa. The English
fleet was lying in the bay, and greatly added to the
interest of the scene.

One day we walked round to Catalan Bay, through
the deep sand, where the stones hang on the almost
perpendicular precipice, and where one is warned to
walk quickly and gently, for fear they should roll,
down on the passers-by. It was less pleasant than
the other walks about Gibraltar ; not so much on
account of the sand and the rolling stones as from the
excessive dustiness of the road at the North Front.
There is not a blade of vegetation of any kind ; and
the day we were there the wind was extremely high,
so much so that it was sometimes difficult to get
on, or even to stand, against it. When we got to
Catalan Bay, it was quite sheltered and very beautiful;

326 A Summer in Spain.

of course, perfectly without vegetation ; but the little
fishing-village nestles under the cliff, and the deep
ultramarine blue waves break pleasantly on the yellow
sand. Even if Catalan Bay wei-e not so pretty, it
would be worth while to take that walli, if only to
see the stupendous precipice. At the North Front it
goes sheer up the whole height of the Eock like a
wall.

We made acquaintance with the great di'agon-tree
in the Governor's garden, and also with a small one
that had not yet begun to branch, being too young,
only a hundred years old ! With the monkeys we
were not so fortunate, never having the luck to see
any. Everybody else saw them. If we went up in the
morning, the monkeys were sure to remain obstinately
hidden till the afternoon ; if we waited till the after-
noon, every ape on the Eock had taken his walk early
in the day. Once we were told that, a few hours
before, a large monkey had been sitting on the very
gun we were leaning against; another time, some
people we knew saw nine all together; seven full
grown and two babies. The mothers carried the little
ones, and now and then put them down to jump
about. It must have been a beautiful sight ! But
we never met with such good fortune.

I am afraid they are not very amiable creatures^

Monkeys. 327

A few years ago, as fears were entertained that their
numbers were diminishing, some were procured from
Barbary, and let loose on the Eock, but the Gibraltar
monkeys instantly killed them all !

In spite of this regrettable incident, they are
greatly esteemed and beloved. They never attack
human beings ; so we went to every place we could
think of in search of them. In vain ! The absence
of the monkeys was the one dark spot on our stay at
Gibraltar.

328

CHAPTEE XII.

Voyage to Tangieks — Custom-house — Market — Costume —
Hareem — Jewels — Tangerine Tea — Roman Bridge —
Palace of the Pasha — Garden of the Swedish Consul —
Moorish Lilies — Country "Walk — Bazaar — Jewish Feast
of Tabernacles — Synagogue — Back to Gibraltae.

One of the most delighful parts of a visit to Gibraltar
is the trip across the Straits to Tangiers ; but, like
many other pleasant things, it is often rather
difficult of attainment, owing to the extreme un-
certainty as to when the steamers sail. As far as we
could understand, they arrived when they could, and
departed when they were ready. Sometimes there
was a placard put up at the hotels; sometimes not.
Generally the post-office authorities knew, but occa-
sionally they did not. Abraham, the Jew com.
7nissionaire, was about the best person to apply to ;
but even he was not infallible. "We had made up

Voyage to Tangier s. 329

our minds to go over by the first practicable steamer,
and on Saturday, the 11th of October, we were told
one was going. But just as we were all ready, the
steamer sent up to say that though it would be very
happy to take us, and we might come on board
immediately, it must first tow out two American fruit
ships to Cape St. Vincent. This we could not
encounter; the wind had been very high for three
or four days, and the sea in the Straits was likely to
be quite sufficiently rough without going out into the
Atlantic. So we gave up all thoughts of it for that
day, and went off to Europa Point and the Governor's
Cottage. At the lighthouse, when we saw the
furious sea outside, and found how difficult it was
even to stand, we were rather glad that our voyage
was, as we believed, deferred.

When we came back, quite leisurely, we found the
whole hotel in a state of excitement, and everybody,
landlord, waiters, commissionaire, and guests good-
naturedly running about in all directions, looking for us.
A very large steamer had just come in, bound for
Mogador and the Grand Canary, touching at Tangiers,
and was to sail at five o'clock. It was now nearly
four, so there was a hurry to get ofi". The boatman
who had landed us begged us to take his boat, which
we inconsiderately did. It was much too small ; and

330 A Su77imer in Spain.

the two rowers could hardly make head against the
heavy sea. They wished to put up a sail, but this we
forbade. I rather think we were wrong, and that it
would have been safer with than without it ; for there
were no squalls, only a heavy sea, and the sail might
have steadied the little cockle-shell of a bark. As it
was, we were tossed from one big wave to another ;
the men did not row very well, and the steamer was
lying halfway across the bay. It was exceedingly
beautiful ; the long line of black and golden waves,
stretching far out into the sunset, seemed intermin-
able. We got so knocked about that we sat down in
the bottom of the boat to avoid being jerked out ; and
then those same black waves looked uncomfortably
high as they came towards us. At last we were near
the steamer, but the worst was yet to come ; she was
coaling, and we had to go round to the seaward side,
at the risk of being dashed against her. Then there
were on that side no steps ; and we had our first
experience of a rope ladder, by which we climbed
over the bulwark. Once on board, she was so large
that no motion was perceptible, and we flattered our-
selves that it would be smooth on the Morocco coast,
where we hoped to arrive before nightfall.

But coaling and taking in cargo lasted so long that
we did not sail till 8 instead of 5 p.m. ; and it soon

Arrival at Tangiers. 331

became apparent that we were not likely to reach
Tangiers that night. It was really not very un-
comfortable, except that all the berths were occupied
by people going to more distant places on the coast of
Morocco, or to the Canaries ; and in the cabin there
were so many casual passengers like ourselves, that
there was no room to lie down. But everybody was
very good-natured ; and we were cheered, soon after
starting, by the appearance of the steward and a small
white kitten ("my hanimal, ma'am," he said) who
busied themselves getting tea. After which we slept
(at least I did) most comfortably, sitting bolt upright
on a very narrow, slippery haircloth sofa. About
6 A.M. I awoke, and went upstairs to see how we were
getting on. We were now a good deal rocked about,
but did not appear to make progress. My first im-
pression in the dim morning light was, that we were
still lying off Gibraltar, so quiet and steady had we
seemed all night. But soon I saw that the ghostly
white houses on the long point of land were very
unlike the Eock ; we had anchored three hours before
off Tangiers.

There it was, Africa, the mysterious land I so
longed to see ; but there, too, were the black billows
between us and it. As at Gibraltar, the great size of
the steamer prevented her getting in- shore ; and though

2)^2 A Sm)wier iii Spain.

the port of Tangiers is generally pretty calm, we were
lying far out with nothing between us and America,
I fancy ; and the long, steady roll of the Atlantic,
not by any means softened down by the late storm,
looked so appalling that had the steamer been going
straight back to Gibraltar, I think we should have
been tempted to go back too. The Grand Canary,
however, though in some respects an interesting
island, was decidedly out of our way; so there was
nothing for it but to hope that the sea would
calm down before 6 a.m., when we were to land.
The time came, and so did the boats, full of
wild, dusky Arabs, shouting and shrieking. I
asked the captain if it was safe to land in such a
sea. He replied, doubtfully, " I think so ; if you
don't slip in getting down, and if the boatmen keep
well off the steamer." We got down the side somehow,
amid cries of "Stop!" "Go on!" "Now!" "Not
yet!" "Wait!" "Jump!" "Don't move!" and so
on ; all of which we disregarded, for the excellent
reason that, even if our minds had been sufficiently
clear to understand the instructions given us, our legs
were totally beyond our control. Very glad we were
to find ourselves on all foui*s in the bottom of the boat \
then a great wave seized it and sent it against the
steamer. A minute of fearful confusion followed;

The Ctistom- house. 333

the captain swore, the boatmen yelled, the spray
dashed over us, everybody called out, " Keep her off ! "
^'Xeep her off!" which was much easier said than
done. I shut my eyes ; and the next moment the long,
steady pull of the Moorish boatmen was taking us
wonderfully easily through that wilderness of black
water. Certainly, the Ai-ab boatmen are capital ; far
iDetter than the Gibraltar men. "We soon got under
the lee of the long low point that does duty for
a breakwater; and now, as it grew shallow, wild-
looking Arabs rushed into the water, seized us,
and carried us to shore. We felt as if we were being
carried off by pirates ; but they were very careful, and
put us down safely on the slippery stones. A
•splendid, white-turbaned Moor, strongly resembling
Solyman the Magnificent, stepped forward, and in
perfectly good English announced himself as Mu-
hammed, the interpreter of the Victoria Hotel. But
:first we must go to the Custom-house. "What
Custom-house?" said I, bewildered, not expecting
that disagreeable feature of civilization in the land
of Ham. " The Emperor of Morocco's," was the
overwhelming reply. Now, the Emperor of Morocco
had always appeared to me a semi-fabulous potentate.
I knew he existed ; yet, ever since childhood, he had
occupied the same place in my imagination as Jack

334 ^ Su7?imer in Spain.

the Giant-killer, the Great Mogul, ogres in general,
and such like. So now it was startling to find he
had a custom-house, like ordinary mortal sovereigns.

After all, it was much better than the Spanish
custom-houses. Grave, clean, tui'baned Moors sat
solemnly, cross-legged, surrounded by half-a-dozen
most beautiful cats, equally clean and equally solemn ;
and overhead waved the blood-red flag, the pirate
banner once so dreaded on the sea. I felt as if it
were highly probable my head should be cut off at a
sign from one of those dignified Mussulmans, for was
I not an unbeliever ?

But they were extremely courteous, as all Moors
are ; they scarcely opened our box, and we soon
proceeded up the steep street to the hotel. Tired as
we were, we had a cup of coffee, ,and immediately
went to the market-place. On Sunday and Thiu'sday
a fair is held there, and it is the very strangest sight
that can be seen within three hours of Europe. It is
a stepping back into an earlier world, into the days of
the Prophet ; yea, further back than that, to the old
Biblical times, to the patriarchal age, to Abraham and
Isaac and Jacob. It is very unaccountable, but
never did I fully realize the Old Testament history as
here, among the Mahometans. Even the New Testa-
ment seemed to stand out in clearer light. If it had

The Market. 335,

been Syria or Egypt, it would not have surprised me ;
but here, in Tangiers, with no Biblical associations, it
could but be the similarity of manners and customs.

We went on through a crowd of magnificent white
turbaned Moors; wild, tawny Arabs of the desert; date
merchants from the far oases of the interior ; peasant
women with huge palm-leaf hats, large as a cart-
wheel ; negroes black as coal ; white figures all hid
save one long, sleepy, dark eye, not brilliant like the
Italian eye, but soft and liquid ; Jews with dark blue
kaftan, red sash, and shrewd, keen countenances;
beautiful Jewesses in bright purple, with white head-
dresses and uncovered faces ; camels, donkeys, sheep,
and goats, all bleating, braying, running round, before,
and behind us. In the crowd there was no rudeness,
though it was often difficult to get along : nobody
looked at the two English ladies ; not a remark was
made. With that excellent Oriental principle of
minding their own affairs instead of other people's,
they bought, sold, haggled, and called out continually
Bal-a-a-ak^ as they drove their donkeys through the
throng. Bal-a-a-ak means "get out of the way,"
apparently; at least, it is always prudent to do so
when you hear it shouted, as, otherwise, the nose of a
donkey instantly pokes your back, or the cross face of
a camel towers right over your head.

2,2t^ A Summer in Spain.

The market is held just outside the southern gate,
which leads out to the country, away to the desert.
Of course, there is nothing that answers to our idea of
a road, without the walls ; but the bright green
uplands stretch away towards the Kiff, and paths may
be found if one looks for them. The chief attraction
at present, however, was the gateway, with its endless
stream of picturesque comers and goers.

The Moors of Tangiers are certainly most superb
specimens of humanity. Their great height and
broad shoulders struck us all the more after having
lived for some time among the Liliputian Spaniards ;
it was like coming among a nation of ^Newfoundland
dogs, after spending a summer among toy terriers.
Their costume is perfection, the upjDcr classes all
wearing the white haik^ which is the very most grace-
ful garment that ever man arrayed himself in. I
could not exactly make out how it was made ; it is not
the bournous, but is more like the Eoman toga. It
is made in different kinds of stuff, the most usual being
the kooskoos^ which is somewhat like a very fine, soft,
creamy white Turkish towel. The magistrates and
other people of distinction wear it much lighter and
finer, more like the stuff of which the Algeriue
bournous is made. There is another kind, with
alternate stripes of kooskoos and silk. In bad weather,

The Costume.. 337

or when they are about any work that is likely to soil
the white haik, they wear one of a coarser blue stuff,
or with very narrow stripes of dark blue and white.
The middle classes, such as shopmen, for instance,
wear this latter. The trousers are always white ; not
gathered in like the Turkish trouser, but wide, like
those worn by the peasants of the Danube. Only the
upper classes wear stockings ; the others shuffle along
in a wonderful way over the rough stones with their ,
brown heels sticking out of their yellow slippers.
Those yellow slippers always gave me an uncom-
fortable sensation, recalling how, in Miss Edgeworth's
story, they gave the plague to Murad the Unlucky ;
which really was an extra piece of bad luck, inas-
much as, rightly or wrongly, it is popularly believed
that shoe-leather does not usually communicate
infection.

Of course, the true Moor always wears the white
turban ; the Jews have a sort of fez ; the Arabs from
the interior, a kind of bournous of coarse brown stuff,
with the hood drawn over the head. Indeed, a con-
siderable part of the Arab population wear only a
coarse sack, of which so large a portion is drawn over
the head to protect it from the sun, that exceedingly
little is left for the body. Consequently, the length
and brownness of the legs one meets at every turn, is

338 A Summer in Spain.

something quite astounding. The negroes from
Soudan generally have a red turban, which is very-
becoming to their coal-black faces ; but many of the
black slave-boys have only their frizzly hair, woven
into a funny little plait that sticks straight out from
the top of the head. The natives of Soudan are ex-
tremely black, which strikes one all the more, as
they have not in general very decidedly negro fea-
tures ; when they waited on us at dinner, I could not
at first get over the idea that the blackness would
come off their hands on the table-cloth !

We returned to the hotel to breakfast, and then
went to church to the British Legation. After which,
we were too tired to do much except stand by the
sea, looking at the marvellous effects of light and
shade in that purest, clearest of atmospheres ; the
dark, blue-green sea, the pink and azure mountains ;
and the picturesque groups sitting with that strange.
Oriental stillness so unlike the bustle of European
life. Eepose ! that seems the great charm of Eastern
life ; and a wonderful charm it is.

By the way, it seems very absurd to use the ex-
pressions Eastern and Oriental in speaking of a place
that is considerably further west than most European
countries. Yet one must always think of Tangiers as
Oriental, inasmuch as it has the old civilization, utterly

Mosques. 339

without mixture of Western habits or ideas. There
is not a carriage, nor indeed anything with wheels in
Tangiers ; the Frankish dress is, happily, as yet un-
worn by its grave, dignified denizens; its mosques
are yet unprofaned by European foot.

We were told that, some years ago, a young En-
glish lady, who was spending a few days at Tangiers,
said she was resolved to go into one of the mosques.
And she did so ; but at the entrance a grave Mussul-
man rose from his knees, took her by the hand, and
led her politely out. She said she was a great deal
more frightened than if they had made an uproar.
Probably, they thought she had made a mistake;
otherwise, courteous as the Moors are to strangers,
and especially to all women, she might have fared
badly. I was always very much afraid of entering a
mosque by mistake.

In the interior of Morocco, they are even more rigid
than at Tangiers. There is one place, Sallee, the
Holy City, of which it was always said that no Chris-
tian might set foot in it ; and it is quite true that,
till very recently, no Christian ever did. But this*
was a mere arbitrary regulation, not founded on any
real law or precept. I could not find out that there
was anything peculiar about this city, except that it
contains an unusual number of mosques.

340 A Sum?ner in Spain.

The first day or two in a Mahometan country gives
one a very strange sensation. I believe I should
rather say Mussulman, for they never call themselves
Mahometans ; nor does, as I have already said, the
name of Mahomet ever occur on inscriptions, nor, as
far as I could see, in any form whatever, anywhere.
It was really grand to hear Muhammed, our inter-
preter, say, " I am a Mussulman." And when we
asked him the date of a building, he always replied,
"In such and such a year of the Prophet." We
found it very inconvenient not to have the Hegira
at our fingers' end.

The servants in the hotel, with the exception of
the two interpreters, old Muhammed and young Mu-
hammed, were either Jews or Soudan men. The
housemaid was a handsome Jewess, called Eachel,
very obliging, with soft, pleasant manners ; in which
latter respect, it must be confessed, she greatly ex-
celled the Andalusian damsels we had lately had to
do with. Some people say they do not like the
Jewish servants, but prefer the Arabs ; as far as our
experience went, nothing could exceed the civility of
both. When we went out and in, all the servants
and interpreters who were sitting, Oriental fashion, in
the court, rose and stood respectfully, as we passed :
a piece of politeness quite bewildering, after the

A Hareem. 341

^' I'm as good as you " manners of waiters and house-
maids in the south of Spain. I should say the
fashionable politics of Morocco are extremely conserv-
ative. Speaking of Spanish affairs with Muhammed,
he said, " What can you expect of a republic ? "
" But it is a monarchy " (which it was, for the mo-
ment), suggested we. "A constitutional monarchy,
which is the same as a republic," replied Muhammed
loftily.

Our great wish, naturally, was to visit a hareem ;
and, on mentioning this to the English Minister, he
kindly promised to do all in his power to procure us
admittance to one. The Pasha's wife does not like
to receive visitors ; she is ugly, in very delicate
health, and particularly dislikes the idea of being
criticized by European ladies. But Sid Absalom
Aharem, a magistrate, and a man of high position,
was said to have a very beautiful house, which he
liked to be admired ; he was also believed to have
a young wife, but it was difficult to ascertain
this, as, in Mussulman countries, no man can speak
to another about his wife. But he could be asked to
show us his household ; and there would be no impro-
priety in our asking him to introduce us to his wife.
" What language does he speak ? " we asked.
^' Arabic, of course." " But we don't understand

342 A Summer in Spain.

that," said we, feeling keenly, as we had done even
in Spain, what a miserable thing it is to have had
one's education so neglected as to be ignorant of
Arabic. " Oh ! but you have your interpreter," was
the reply. The name was given to us in writing ;
and when we asked if Muhammed would be able to
find Sid Absalom's house, we were told that he was
as well known as the Lord Mayor in London. So we
went off in high spirits ; when it all at once occurred
to me that the interpreter could not possibly ask Sid
Absalom about his wife, far less enter the hareem.
This word Sid is the same as Cid^ and means simply
gentleman ; the Spanish Do?i^ in fact.

When the time came we proceeded up one of those
quiet, narrow streets, with their windowless walls all
blinding white in the sunshine. The Sid, with true
Moorish courtesy, was waiting for us in the street,
and walked up along with us. He was an excellent
specimen of a Moorish gentleman, tall and handsome,
and much fairer than most Spaniards or Italians.
He was entii-ely enveloped in the finest white rai-
ment. I presume he wore the turban, but it was not
visible, as a flap of the soft, white, silky stuff, after
being thrown round across tlie shoulder like a Spanish
cloak, covered the head also. "Would it not be better,
and more historically correct, to represent Othello

A Hareem. 343

like this, on the stage, than to make him a negro,
dressed like a Turkish janissary ?

To our very great relief we found our host could
speak a little Spanish, so we were at our ease imme-
diately. He conducted us upstairs, leaving the inter-
preter behind. I began to wonder if he had a wife,
and how we were to ask for her ; when we found
ourselves in a small upper court, exquisitely paved
with azulejos, precisely the same as those of the
Alhambra : at the present day they are made at Fez.
Two ladies stood there, bowing very low, and
laughing a little nervously. The first was partly
veiled ; that is, she had the thick white stuff
wrapped round her head and shoulders, but her
face was uncovered. She had a bright, kind expres-
sion, but was not pretty. When I bowed to her, she
drew back, and indicated the other lady, as much as
to say that the latter was the principal one. So I
turned to bow also to the other, who was one of
the very loveliest creatures I have ever seen. She
received us extremely gracefully, and led us into the
reception-room. It was long and narrow, with the
whole of one side opening to the court, but partly
closed with a curtain. There were no windows what-
ever ; yet it was not at all dark, the rays of the
African sun pouring full into the court, and being

344 -^ Swnmer ifi Spain.

reflected by the bright azulejos. At each end there
seemed to be recesses curtained oflP. The floor was
carpeted with the thickest, softest, richest, brightest
of Turkey carpets, far finer than I have ever seen
in any Workl-Exhibition. We felt quite uncivilized
as we walked over it in our high-heeled boots.
Had we anticipated this visit, we should certainly
have put on over-shoes, in order to take them off at
the entrance. Our host put off his shoes, and walked
about the room in his stockings ; our hostess left her
red velvet, gold-embroidered slippers in the court,
and her small, bare, white feet looked quite comfort-
able in the yielding carpet. Her foot was very much
prettier to my taste than the fat, short Spanish foot ;
being long, slender, delicate, and as flexible as her
hands.

The divan, running along one side of the room, was
also covered with rich carpets; and behind it the
wall was wainscoted, so to speak, with crimson velvet,
embroidered with gold-coloured silk, in a pattern of
arches. In the middle, three of the arches were em-
broidered in thick, heavy gold ; and there the place of
honour seemed to be.

Sid Absalom had been in Gibraltar, and thus was
accustomed to English habits and peculiarities. So
three long-legged cane chairs were brought, on which

A Hareem, 345

we, however, declined to sit, placing om-selves on the
divan beside our hostess. Our host, to show how
English his sympathies were, sat on one of the cane
chairs, and I think must have been uncomfortable,
though he looked wonderfully at his ease.

A very nice, respectable -looking, middle-aged
Jewess now made her appearance. She seemed to be
an upper servant, and spoke Spanish extremely well,
so that the conversation went on more briskly. She
interpreted for her young mistress, who said all sorts
of pretty things in pretty Arabic, which were duly
translated and replied to. The lady was full of
apologies for her appearance : had she known earlier
that we were coming, she would have put on a better
dress to do us honour ; she was ashamed to be seen
so. Now there was really no need for all this,
because she was very prettily attired. She wore a
long kaftan or pelisse of pale bluish-green cashmere,
edged with gold braid, and confined at the waist by a
very broad cloth of gold sash; and white trousers,
not gathered at the ankle, but so wide as to look like
a petticoat. Eound her forehead she had a diadem of
black velvet, and a very long silver gauze veil fell
from it over the back of her head. The hair, long,
black, and straight, hung loose, mixed up with the
fringe of a black silk handkerchief, apparently put on

346 A Summer in Spain.

in order to make the hair seem more abundant. Yery
lovely she looked, with her slender, supple figure,
great dark eyes, fair skin, and sweet smile. The
only defect was her teeth, which were nearly as black
as her eyes ; so much so, that I think they must have
been blackened artificially. She had no false hair, no
rouge, nor paint of any kind, nor henna ; but I sus-
pect there was some black pencilling under the eyes ;
not on the eyelid itself, but as if a finger with black-
lead had been drawn below the eye.

Nothing could be sweeter or kinder than her
manner ; there was no curiosity, no asking questions,
no remarks on what must have seemed to her
strangely different from all that she was accustomed
to.

Her husband was very proud of her, especially of
her slim figure, and seemed rather to regret that she
had not dressed more magnificently. " She has very
good clothes," he said, and made her a sign to show
us them. She accordingly went into one of the
curtained recesses, and brought out a profusion of
splendid brocades. Yiolct, gold-coloured, crimson,
the richest products of Lyons' looms ; but what pleased
us most was a kaftan of gold-coloured Broussa silk.
This had been brought from Constantinople for her,
and was an old fabric, such as could not be procured

Jewels. 347

now. The sashes, six or eight inches broad, of cloth
of gold shot with red or purple, with a long gold
fringe, were so heavy that I could hardly hold
them.

Then the Sid said something to her in Arabic, and
threw her a key; whereupon she produced one of
those curious many-coloured boxes peculiar to Tan-
giers, and showed us her jewels. Long strings of
pearls like rosaries, of which the larger beads were
great, uncut sapphires and emeralds ; huge gold ear-
rings, and diamond and ruby rings rolled over the
floor. We asked how the earrings could possibly be
worn, for at first we had taken them for bracelets;
and indeed they would not have been too small for
her wrists. They were as thick as one's little finger,
but she took out those she had in her ears, and thrust
the thick piece of gold into the hole. I think it hurt
her, for she winced a little, but persevered in pushing
it through. There was a short string of pearls,
divided by emeralds and sapphires, attaching the
earring to the head-dress, and another longer one to
fasten it to the shoulder. It was very becoming, but
must have been exceedingly uncomfortable.

Presently her child came in ; a lovely little girl of
three years old,_ with rich chestnut hair, great black
eyes, and cheeks like pomegranate blossoms. She

34^ A Stwimcr in Spai?i.

was very funnily dressed, her clothes being wrapped
so tightly round her legs that it was surprising she
could walk, while her shoulders were swathed in fold
upon fold, till she presented the appearance of a
wedge. For all that, she was the most perfect speci-
men of childish beauty I have ever seen. Her father
was immensely gratified with our unfeigned admi-
ration of her, and said proudly, " Yes ! she is even
better than the mother."

The child had evidently been bribed to come in by
having a pair of new purple velvet, gold- embroidered
slippers put on for the first time ; and so pleased with
them was she, that instead of leaving them at the
entrance, she came in with them on, pointing them
out to her father with great glee. When she saw us,
she hesitated for a moment : her mother said some-
thing, apparently desiring her to come forward and
speak to us, but still she di-ew back ; upon which her
father called to her, and bade her take ofi" the new
slippers and offer them to one of us. It was a terrible
trial. She looked exceedingly grave, but at once
obeyed, and timidly offered the precious slippers.
Poor little thing ! She seemed very much relieved
when they were refused with thanks. I suspect Sid
Absalom was always obeyed in his own house ; yet
he seemed very much loved too. The child jumped

A Strange a7id Beautiful Scene. 349

about him with the greatest fondness, and did not
appear at all afraid of him. His wife looked at him
with the most devoted affection ; her whole face
brightened when she spoke to him, and everybody,
servants and all, seemed to like this mild paternal
despotism.

In a short time we attempted to take leave, but they
would not hear of it, the lady even holding us by the
dress to detain us. She seemed to enjoy the visit,
and begged her husband to explain to us " how very
much she liked us." It was quite surprising how
well she understood what we said, and often answered
by signs before it was translated to her. For instance,
when we asked the child's age, she instantly held up
three fingers ; and when we spoke of the jewels she
was delighted, because the Spanish names of sapphire,
diamond, emerald, riiby, are almost the same as the
Arabic.

It was a strange and beautiful scene ; more like the
Arabian ISTights than anything I had ever expected to
behold. The splendid brocades and costly jewels
thrown carelessly on the rich, soft carpet, the lovely
child playing with the strings of pearls, the beautiful
mother sitting cross-legged on the divan, while the
brilliant sunshine lighted up all the crimson and
purple, the sapphires and emeralds, the silver veils

35 o A Su7?t??ier in Spain.

and cloth of gold, and the child's dark eyes and
glowing cheeks; what a pictiire it would have
made I

After some more conversation, we again endeavoured
to depart, but in vain. The lady now clapped her
hands, and a little black slave appeared. An order was
given in which I thought I distinguished a sound
like atsa or atsan ; that, or some word resembling it,
meaning tea^ in Arabic. "Are we going to have
afternoon tea in a hareem in Morocco?" thought I,
much surprised. My forebodings were correct ; for
presently a silver tray and tea-pot, with tea-cups, were
brought. They were placed on the floor, before the
lady, there being no table in the room, nor indeed in
the house. I was a little disappointed that it was not
coffee, fancying that the tea had been brought because
we were English. Such was my ignorant supposition ;
for we afterwards learnt that tea is as much the
national beverage of Tangiers as coffee is of the East
in general ; and it was adopted in the days when
Portugal ruled here, before Xatharine of Braganza
introduced it into England. I do not know if it is
used in other parts of Morocco.

A large, soft, white Tui'kish towel was brought
by way of table-cloth, though table there was
none ; and the lady spread it on her lap and pro-

Tangerine Tea. ^ 351

eeeded to pour out the tea. It was very unlike any-
thing I had ever tasted, but exceedingly good, being
made of the finest Eussian golden tea, flavoured with
leaves of lemon-verbena and mint, and sweetened
almost to a syrup. In fact, it was rather too sweet ;
but it was very hot and refreshing. Seven cups had
been brought, from which we gathered that we were
expected to take two each. Afterwards, we were told
that it is a piece of politeness to take three ; but we
regulated our proceedings by the number of cups on
the tray ; as, in those countries, they always give you
a fresh cup with more tea. Our host took two, our
hostess one, which disposed of all the cups.

The third time we rose to take leave, the Sid pro-
posed to show us the house. It was not at all what
is commonly called Moorish in style with respect to
the decorations ; but the shape and disposition of the
rooms was thoroughly so ; and thus we could quite
understand how the Alhambra must have been fur-
nished and arranged. There have been many dis-
putes on this subject, and much has been written
about it ; all which might have been spared if the
combatants had taken the trouble to cross the Straits
and visit a Moorish family.

We also went up to the housetop, but there the
lady could not accompany us, as she was not veiled ;

352 A Summer in Spain.

the Sid politely saying, in order that we might not
feel in the wrong, " Every country has its customs."
I hope she sometimes had the pleasure of going up
and enjoying that glorious view over the dark blue
sea and white Tangiers, with its minarets and solitary
palm-tree.

The absence of flowers in the house struck us very
much, after Spain, where they are in such profusion
in every room and patio. Even in a small, high-walled
garden which we were shown, there were none.
There were also no pets of any kind. Dogs, of course,
we knew there could be none, in a Mahometan country ;
but we had always heard of the Moorish love of other
animals, and were surprised not to see any. One can-
not, however, judge of the tastes of a nation fi'om a
visit to one household.

One thing we could certainly judge of, namely, the
extreme and polished courtesy of the Moors; and
this not merely in set forms of politeness, but with a
delicate and graceful tact such as I have rarely seen.
We were begged to stay longer, to come back often,
and repeatedly thanked for our visit. I noticed they
were especially careful to avoid expressing sui*prise,
or seeming to imply disapprobation with respect to
European customs. We particularly observed this
politeness in the little girl ; she never stared at us^

Ro7nan Bridge. 353

nor laughed, nor looked awkward, nor asked questions,
nor touched our dresses, nor made any remark what-
ever on what, I should think, must have been quite
new to her. Few children of any nation would have
shown such perfect good-breeding in the circum-
stances.

Of course, we were told that the house and every-
thing in it was ours ; the Spaniards having learnt this
expression from their Moorish enemies. When we at
last got away, Sid Absalom walked downstairs with
us, shook hands (having evidently learnt this at
Gibraltar), expressed the hope of seeing us very soon
again, and left us with a most agreeable impression of
Moorish hospitality.

Next morning we resolved to ride to the Eoman
Bridge, and desired Muhammed. to order donkeys.
When we came downstairs, I was much alarmed at
the sight of the saddle I was expected to sit upon.
They were pack-saddles of the most rudimentary
description; being simply a very large, high sack,
stuffed with some hardish substance, and without any
attempt at pommel or saddle. There was no bridle,
only a halter to hold the creature by.

I at once saw that this would not do for me, and
determined to walk; foreseeing that I should cer-
tainly be thrown over the donkey's head, and pro-

2 A

354 ^ Summer in Spain.

bably alight on my own, going down the steep street.
H. boldly mounted, and said she felt perfectly com-
fortable and quite secure. But she did not look
either the one or the other ; so I was very glad I had
decided to walk, though it was rather fatiguing.

We soon got out of the town and on to the sands,
which are very soft and very deep ; and though the
douKcy appeared to be walking slowly, all my powers
were taxed to keep up with him. It was exceedingly
hot, too, in the noonday sun, and I felt as if we were
on pilgrimage to Mecca, as he solemnly proceeded
along. Before us were camels going back from the
market, the shadows of their long necks projected on
the sand ; and wild Bedouins returning to the inte-
rior. Soon they diverged to the right, away across
the plain, and we wound round by the edge of the
sea. And what a colour that sea was ! A curious com-
bination of blue and green ; not by any means bluish
green, but bright green and bright blue mixed, but not
mingled ; the sands, deep golden yellow, without any
vegetation except here and there an agave. All was
solitude ; not a human being, not a living thing to be
seen.

The remains of the bridge are curious. The water
must have encroached on the land since it was built ;
for at present it is quite at the mouth of the river,

Roman Bridge. 355

almost in the sea. I should have liked to get across
but there was no means of doing so. Probably there
is a bridge higher up, but we had no interpreter with
us ; the donkey-boy knew scarcely a word of Spanish,
and we now, as ever, felt bitterly the want of Arabic.
As it was, the water was exceedingly rapid, brim-
ming full, and apparently very deep ; in short, quite
unfordable. So H. dismounted and rambled about ;
I sat down to sketch, and the donkey gave himself up
to the enjoyment of eating aromatic and thorny herbs.
There was a lovely view of Tangiers, with its white
houses, from this place ; the sea rolled onward, in
long green-blue waves with white foaming crests, the
azure river gurgled down to meet it, and the dark
brown masses of oldEoman masonry stemmed the flood,
and looked as if they must be swept away in another
moment. Yet they have stood there for 1871 years ;
since the time when Tiberius ruled the Empire of
the World, deeming himself and his vast realm the
grandest things on earth ; and a little Child had but
just been carried down into Egypt, before whose
might Eome, with her gods and her godlike emperors,
was to change utterly, to pale into purer light. But
so far from feeling the evanescence of human life
and human power, here it was the complete unchang-
iuguess of the older civilization that struck one.

2 A 2

356 A Summer in Spam,

The Roman Empire seemed to be but a little episode,
that had gone by like a dream, and we were once
more in the Patriarchal times, in the days of Abraham,
and Isaac, and Jacob.

Long did we sit there in the utter loneliness.
Once only a solitary figure passed along, an Arab with
brown skin and brown raiment, gliding noiselessly
on the soft sand. Boy and donkey had disappeared,
and no sound was heard save the gurgle of the river,
and the plash of the waves on the shore.

At last it was time to depart, but the first difficulty
was to find our guide, and after that to waken him.
He had fallen fast asleep, face downmost, in a clump
of thorns, which he seemed to find comfortable. The
next thing to be done was to find and catch the don-
key, which was not easy. He had got into great
spirits, and careered away much faster than could
have been expected, judging from the previous so-
lemnity of his demeanour. He would not allow H. to
come near him, having taken a dislike to her because
she had ridden him. He did not object to me at all,
thinking me a nice person who never rode donkeys,
and who could therefore be trusted. After he was
caught, I had to hold him and coax him, while the
donkey-boy, by a sudden coup de main^ seated H. on
her elevated position on the pack-saddle. I shall

Palace of the Pasha, 357

never forget the donkey's look of reproachful indig-
nation at me, when he found how he had been
cheated. I really felt quite guilty of betraying his
confidence, poor thing ! But he ought to have been
grateful for having such a very light weight to carry.

As we were returning home, we met a party of the
Eiff men, on their way back to the mountains. It
was rather alarming ; there were about thirty of them,
and they looked very wild and fierce, with their long
guns, and dark, turbaned faces ; and the place was
exceedingly lonely. But they saluted us courteously
with " Salaam alikam," which we were told meant
"Peace be with you." We heard afterwards that
there is now perfect security for strangers in Morocco :
"A great deal safer than London," was the expres-
sion used. Everybody was surprised that we did not
go into the interior. Why did we not go at least to
Tetuan ? And, indeed, we should have much liked
to do so ; but the season was rather far advanced,
and we could not well spare sufficient time.

A visit to the Pasha's palace is by no means to be
omitted. We did not see the Pasha, as he was in
the country ; thus we saw only the outer courts,
which have some beautiful Moorish decorations. A
number of soldiers were hanging about, all as black
as coals ; I suppose they were from Soudan. A jet-

^^8 A Simimer in Spain.

black woman came forward to show us everything ;
she spoke only Ai^abic, which rendered conversation
difficult, and she fell into such raptures with the
fringe of my jacket, that she became incapable of
receiving any other idea.

Eleven beautiful cats were in the first court ; the
twelfth reigned in solitude in the inner one. I tried
to find out if so many were kept merely for pleasure,
or if the Pasha suffered from mice ; but the only ex-
planation, as far as I could understand, was, that' the
cats being there, they remained there ! This was
true Mussulman obedience to the decrees of fate.

Business was being transacted in one of the comets.
There was a man, like the scribes of old, with an ink-
bottle at his girdle, and' a large reed-pen in his hand ;
piles of papers lay about, covered with most beauti-
fully clear writing. I don't know why seeing letters
addressed in Arabic should have made such an im-
pression upon me, it being naturally the language of
the country ; but the whole scene was a glimpse into
an elder world. In Tangiers it seemed as though one
were always looking through a mental telescope that
brought the dim and distant Past close to one's eyes.

Among more modern things, we went to see the
Belgian Consul's house, which is very pretty, and
most obligingly shown, The Swedish Consul's

A Country Walk. 359

villa, too, just out of the town, is worth a visit. I
believe this latter no longer really belongs to the
Swedish Consul, but it still goes by his name. I
rather think, when we were there, it was let in apart-
ments which must be pleasant to live in ; the views
are beautiful. There is a very large dragon-tree in
the garden, quite as large as the celebrated one in
the Governor's garden at Gibraltar, but not of so per-
fect a form. The obliging Arab gardener gathered
great bunches of pink amaryllis for us. I asked what
the name of the flower was in Arabic. '' Susanna,"
was the reply. Then I remembered having been
told, long ago, that Susan and Lily were the same
name ; one Hebrew, the other English.

In the afternoon, Muhammed said we ought to walk
to Marchann. (Probably I spell the name wrong,
for I have never seen it written ; but that is what
it sounded like.) So the Jewish waiter was sum-
moned, who called his brother David, and desired
him to accompany us.

We started, passing out by Bab-el-Suk, " the Gate
of the Market-place." They were bringing in great
loads of branches of sweet-bay. We asked what it
was for. "It is for us," replied David shortly.
" For what purpose ? " said I. ''To make the caha-
nas^'' answered he. We could not think what he

360 A Suin?}ier in Spain.

could possibly mean ; and just then a picturesque
group distracted our attention, and we inquired no
further.

We went on, through lanes bordered with agave
and prickly pear, and overhung by tall, whispering
reeds. In Italy I had often heard the rustle of
the reeds, but never before did I so distinctly
hear it like voices. It was almost impossible not
to believe that they were really whispering, speak-
ing to each other. It gave one a strange, haunted
feeling; I am not sure that I should have liked it
had I been alone.

Presently we came to a little gate through which
we passed, and found ourselves in a little country
place of our landlord's, where he kept his poultry.
It was very wild and very pretty, hanging right
above the sea. There was a very tiny house for
the poultry -man to sleep in ; but it could have been
made charming. At the end of the garden was a
rickety seat, with two broken legs ; the view from
which was magnificent, away over the sea to the pale
pink peaks of the lower Atlas.

Then we went on again, through the narrow lanes
among the agaves and prickly pears, till we came
out into an open field, also with a glorious view.
This was Marchann; and all round there were

A Country Walk. 361

country houses, where the Moors go in summer.
Here I could scarcely believe that I was in Africa :
the yellow sand and the wild, desert look had dis-
appeared ; the grass was intensely green, and the
rich vegetation and leafy woods stretched away
towards the Eiff. David beckoned us on, and in a
few steps we were again standing just above the
sea, much as if we had been on the Sussex Downs ;
only that the sea was a far deeper blue, and the light
was strangely vivid. When I looked round again,
it was quite startling to see the white-robed Moors
and the brown figures of the peasants passing along.

David now proposed returning home a different
way, that we might see more of the country ; and
we struck across the fields inland, as if towards the
mountains. It was a most beautiful walk; and
presently we came to a pretty villa belonging to
the Belgian Consul. The flowers were splendid, and
again the rosy Atlas gleamed in the sunset sky.
But the dew was so heavy, that we thought it
prudent to return, especially as we were at a con-
siderable distance from the town. So we took a
short cut thi'ough the fields, which, even in October,
were carpeted with wild flowers. There were great
quantities of white narcissus, with black hearts and
a most peculiar perfume, not at all like that of any

362 A Summer in Spain.

narcissus I have ever seen. It was aromatic, and
rather pungent, with somewhat of the faint, bitter
smell of the oleander. It was not at all heavy, as
the jonquil is ; and at first we thought it delicious.
But in a short time it seemed to fill one with horror ;
not that it was disagreeable, nor did it make one's
head ache, but one felt as though it were a sweet,
subtle, deadly poison. I do not know if it really is
a poisonous plant

By the time we got back to Tangiers, the rose-
coloured minarets had faded into cold, bluish white ;
and it was already dusk. I have no doubt we should
have been perfectly safe, in any case, but it would
have been something new to us to be benighted in
Morocco !

A morning was naturally devoted to shopping in
the bazaar. There sit the shopmen, cross-legged, on
the board where they display their wares, and which,
I believe, serves as a shutter when they close their
shop. In a short visit to Tangiers, it is well to avoid
Friday and Saturday, as on the latter day the Jewish,
and on the former the Mahometan, shops are closed.
The old Jews, with their silvery beards and mild,
rather cunning faces, had nothing patriarchal about
them ; it is the Mussulman that brings Abraham to
one's mind : while the Hebrew recalls, not Isaac the

A Bazaar. 363

Patriarch, but the Jew of the Middle Ages ; in fact,
old Isaac in ' Ivanhoe.' Jew and Moor, however, were
equally courteous. They are also said to be almost
equally rapacious ; but we did not think them par-
ticularly greedy. Of course, we probably paid too
much for everything ; we expected that : still, I think,
in Italy the over-charging would have been greater.

The most attractive things were the different kinds
of kooskoos, and the brass trays. These latter are
very pretty and very peculiar. We did not care for
any of the embroidery we saw; what comes from
Constantinople and Algiers being much finer. There
were pretty cushions made of bits of different coloured
cloth or leather, sewn together in patterns. We also
rather liked some of the coarse, bright-coloured pot-
tery. They spoke a little Spanish in most of the
shops. Indeed, Spanish, in Morocco, is like French
in Europe ; one can always get on by means of it.

After a good deal of haggling, we completed our
purchases ; a quantity of kooskoos, a brass tray, a
cloth cushion, an earthenware jar, and a rush basket
full of dates. I don't think we paid too much for
anything except the basket of dates, in which they
cheated us iniquitously.

But the whole thing was so like the Arabian
Nights that it was well worth the money. If the

364 A Stmime}'' in Spai7i.

interpreter had not been with us, we must certainly
have hired a porter to carry home our purchases,
as was done in Bagdad in the days of Haroun Al-
raschid.

One day we went up alone to the bazaar, and en-
joyed wandering about by ourselves, and making a
few small purchases. ISTobody stared at us, nobody
made any remark. The merchants who had tried to
cheat us the day before were, naturally, exceedingly
glad to see us ; those who knew a word or two of
English wished us " good morning " in that language ;
the less learned greeted us with the Spanish "buenas
dias ;" while the utterly illiterate said the same thing
in Arabic ; but all were equally polite.

The only exception to the general fi'iendliness was in
one instance. We were looking in at a shop, when a
woman put her hand on H.'s shoulder. She turned
round, thinking it was an importunate beggar ; the
woman suddenly withdi*ew her veil with a mocking
laugh; she was a lopcr. Her malignant expression
was more fearful than the disease. Probably she
thought we must be Jewesses, because we were not
veiled, and that we would shrink with peculiar horror
from leprosy.

The night before we were to depart, Eachael, the
pleasant Jewish housemaid, begged that we would

Jewish Feast of Tabernacles. '>fi^

excuse her if anything should be amiss the following
morning, as she was going to the " cabanas." "We
remembered the sweet-bay which David had said was
to make those cabanas, and eagerly asked for an ex-
planation. "The Feast of the Cabanas;" it was the
Jewish Feast of Tabernacles !

The housemaid entreated us to go ; they liked to
show it to strangers; and if she should not be at
hand, was not the waiter's brother, David, always
there ?

IText morning, despite the glories of the previous
sunset, the wind had changed ; the air was thick, hot,
and oppressive, and a drizzling rain had come on.
Moreover, nobody knew exactly at what hour the
steamer was to sail ; it might be at any moment.
Nevertheless, we rushed out in great haste to see the
Tabernacles, escorted by the unfailing David.

In the bazaar we had the comfort of seeing the
broad shoulders of the captain of the steamer, and
thus ascertaining that we had plenty of time. So
we went more leisurely up to the Jewish quarter,
through exceedingly narrow, badly paved, but per-
fectly clean streets, or rather lanes. I felt a little
afraid to go into the houses, thinking it might be
considered an impertinent intrusion, and not knowing
how, as Gentiles, we might be received in the midst

366 A Summer in Spain.

of a religious ceremony. However, everybody in-
vited us in, and seemed quite delighted to see us.

In each patio was a booth or tabernacle of branches
of sweet-bay, very large, filling up nearly the entire
court, and exceedingly high, so that the whole family
could sit in it, eat, and live there, for the time.
They seemed to be preparing a feast under the shade
of it.

The Jewish houses were very clean and tidy ; in-
deed, they had just finished washing all the floors,
which were of coarse blue azulejos. Yet they did
not at all object to our coming in, and walking about
with muddy boots, which I should have thought they
would have considered a pollution. But neither Jew
nor Mussulman seem to make those kind of diffi-
culties.

The only occasion, for many years, on which there
has been risk of a serious disturbance at Tangiers,
was caused by pigs. The Christians persisted in
keeping myriads of pigs, which must naturally be
always an abomination to both Mussulman and Jew.
Not only were the pigs kept, but they were allowed
to go at large ; not, of course, in the streets, which
could not have been tolerated for a moment, but on
waste pieces of ground, of" which there are many.
But the pigs, instead of remembering they were in a

A Synagogue. 367

Mahometan country, and therefore keeping modestly
in the background, as pigs of any tact or delicacy
would have done, perpetually made their escape, and
rushed about, running against the legs of true be-
lievers in a manner that was quite unendurable.
Diplomatic interference was necessary ; and an edict
was issued that nobody, on any pretext whatever,
was to keep more than two pigs, and , that even those
were to be strictly shut up.

We went also to the new synagogue, of which
David was evidently very proud. We hesitated
about going in, as the Jewish women never worship
along with the men ; but he said they would not mind
strangers. However, we stayed near the door.
There was not much to see; it was all clean and
freshly painted, with a new and very ugly lamp :
nothing picturesque, compared with the curious
synagogue, or, rather, cluster of synagogues in the
Eoman Ghetto, or the magnificent Moresco one at
Pesth; or, the most interesting of all, the little old,
old, dark building at Prague, where the Hebrews
have worshipped for more than a thousand years.
Yet the earnestness of the people, and their pride in
their persecuted faith, could not but interest one. I
was sorry, however, to hear from good authority, that
since the Jews in that part of the world are no longer

368 A Summer in Spain.

persecuted, they have greatly disimproved ; become
pretentious aud disagreeable, in fact. We were also
told that this persecution was never by authority of the
Emperor of Morocco, and that it was even quite against
his wish. It was the mob who rose now and then
against the Jews, and maltreated them ; and though,
of course, the Mussulman population was greatly to
blame for so doing, yet there was generally some pro-
vocation on the part of the Jews. In Tangiers itself
there has always been more toleration than in the
interior.

We accomplished our visit to the Tabernacles by
the time the captain had finished his purchases in the
bazaar. The weather had improved for the moment,
but the white houses of Tangiers do not look quite so
well against a grey sky as with their usual azure
background ; and the change of weather had produced
change of costume. Most of the white haihs had
disappeared, and were replaced by blue ; and I saw
one Ai'ab arrayed in a macldntosh and nothing
else.

However, on our way to the shore, we saw a grand-
looking, white-draped Moor pacing slowly before us,
"Oh! who can that be ? What a magnificent dress!''
said we. "It is a great man, a magistrate," replied
Muhammed. At this moment the white figure

Back to Gibraltar. 369

turned, and lo ! it was our friend, Sid Absalom. He
came up to reproach us for not having come again to
see his wife, who had been expecting us. Then he
walked down to the port with us, and the bystanders
did not seem at all surprised at this, nor at the
cordial shake of the hand with which we parted. It
is curious that, though the Moors are so completely
free from all mixture of European habits or ideas,
they are so very tolerant of what is utterly unlike
themselves. In Tangiers nobody remarks anything
strangers do ; in Spain, on the contrary, the slightest
departure from the usages of the particular village
you may happen to be staying in, calls forth much
comment, and even in some instances, I have been
told, showers of stones; though this was a form of
interference we were lucky enough not to meet
with.

The tide was in, so that we were not obliged to be
carried out by the Moors. They drew the boat up to
the shore, and we got in easily ; the port was perfectly
calm, and the steamer, being a very small one, was
lying quite near. As we pulled off I felt very sorry
to leave Morocco ; it was stepping out of an enchanted
world, half fairy, half biblical. I had often longed to
get on a wishing- carpet that should, as Carlyle
suggests, take one not only any where but any wlien ;

370 -^ Summer in Spain.

and really here my wish had been as nearly gratified
as possible. I really felt as if I had seen

" Bagdad's shrines of fretted gold,
High-walled gardens green and old ; "

and I do believe that if I had actually visited the
banks of the Tigris at this day, I should have
found more changes, more jarring discords than
here, inasmuch as more foreign influences have passed
over that country.

But we were now on the deck of the steamer which
was to act as wishing-carpet on this occasion, and
transport us back to Europe and the nineteenth
centuiy. We were rejoicing in the calmness, and
establishing ourselves on camp-stools, when the
captain said we had better have mattresses. This
idea we spurned with indignation ; the day was calm,
why should we lie down? The captain shook his
head ominously, and pointed out to sea. We saw
nothing except some grey mist ; but the mattresses
were brought, and we set off. I was looking so
intently at Tangiers, on which a sudden gleam of
light had fallen, that I never observed what was
coming, till we rounded the point. All at once the
camp-stools flew in every direction, and the human
beings pretty much followed their example. Ladies,

Back to Gibraltar. 371

children, and chairs, were brought "iinder the same
levelling process, and a good deal of salt water equal-
ized the thing even more, while provision -baskets
floated and hand-bags were swept away. Everybody
tried to run to the rescue of their property, but
running, or even standing, was not easy under the
circumstances. Going on all fours was the only avail-
able mode of progression ; and that, in two or three
inches of salt water, cannot be agreeable to any living
creature but a dog, especially as it was quite impos-
sible to direct one's course to any given point. Just
as one thought one was getting on extremely well,
and had stretched out one's hand to grasp whatever
one was in quest of, the tiny steamer toppled off a big
wave into the trough of the sea, and away one went
in the wrong dii'ection, accompanied by an extempore
cold bath, and a few sea-sick fellow- creatures.

This being the case, I thought perfect repose the
most comfortable and dignified line of action, and
established myself in the very centre of my mattress
which, being hair-cloth, and raised several inches
above the watery level of the deck, kept, for the most
part tolerably dry. It was really enjoyable; the
little steamer, having wind, tide, and current in her
favour, flew like a swift bird ; and as I supposed this
kind of weather to be the normal condition of the

2b2

37^ A Summer in Spain.

Straits, it did not at all surprise me when she tumbled
and rolled about in a way that we had never met with
anything approaching to, in all our voyages on
Mediterranean, Baltic, or North Sea. Once or twice
it did seem paradoxical that she should ever right
again, but she floated like a cork whatever happened.

It seemed but a moment till we got across to the
Spanish coast, and then it was less rough, though still
blowing hard. Presently we saw a great English
steamer coming round by Tarifa, very slowly. Long
before she was in mid-channel, she turned and went
back much faster than she had come. ''What is the
matter?" said I; "why does she go back?" The
captain shook his head. "No steamer that ever was
built could get to Cadiz to-day," said he; "nor over
to Tangiers either." And it was quite true; few
attempted it, and those that did had all to put back.
Out at sea there had been a gale from the west for
some days, though quite calm at Tangiers ; and when
this happens, the force of the current is overpowering,
even after the wind has fallen, which in this instance
it had not.

"We got to Gibralter a few minutes v^ithin the
three hours, and landed easily, as the steamer could
run almost ashore. Everybody was surprised we had
ventured to come, for they had seen more of the gale

Back to Gibraltar. .. 373

than we had on the Morocco coast ; and we were told
it was the worst day that had been in the Straits for
five years.

It was very homelike at Gibraltar ; and perhaps all
the more so, as a thick mist had settled on the top of
the rock, and a drizzling rain, worthy of a London
November, had set in. We were therefore very glad
to find ourselves once more at the comfortable Club-
house Hotel.

374

CHAPTEE XIII.

Voyage to Malaga — Castle — Cathebkal — Kaisins — Gorge
or THE Guadalhorce — Insecure Bridge — Arrival at
Alicante — First Impressions — Esplanade — Pomegra-
nates — The City or Palms — Journey to Valencia —
Cathedral — Colegio del Patriarca — Dies Ir^e — Museum,
— Gallery of the Marquis de Casarojas — Geao.

Our voyage from Gibraltar to Malaga was most
unlike that across the Straits, being indeed on a
summer sea. We sailed very early in the morning,
and the saffron-tinted sunrise behind the Eock was
magnificent. Far the grandest view of Gibraltar is
from the Mediterranean side ; it rises like a wall,
seeming to bar all further progress westward. "No
wonder the ancients feared to pass that awful gate-
way, and tempt the wild ocean beyond.

Oui' course lay in the other direction, and all was

Malam. 375

%*>'

smiling, perfectly calm, with sky and rippling waves
like azure. "We glided past Marbella, which de-
serve its name of ''beautiful sea"; and along
the coast rose mountain behind mountain, of
every shade of colour, from palest pink to deepest
purple.

The view of Malaga from the sea is superb. Here
the scenery is grander than on any other part of
the coast. A break among those peaks and precipices
marks the valley through which the railway runs
up to Cordova ; on the other side, the rugged Sierra de
Antequera rises to a great height, while all along
the shore are the vivid green sugar-canes, contrasting
beautifully with the rich violet and crimson back-
ground.

This is all that can be said in praise of Malaga;
for the rest, tall chimneys were sending out dark
clouds of smoke, a bitterly cold wind was blowing
down that grand mountain-gorge, the port was filthy,
the boatmen careless, the porters insolent, and the
custom-house the worst I have ever seen. I^ot that
they examined our things much ; they were too
incompetent and lazy even to do that; indeed, they
seemed to care for nothing but pillaging us. Will if
be believed that in this, one of the most prosperous
mercantile cities of Spain, there is actually no place

2,"]^ A Su7nmer i?i Spain.

whatsoever in wliich to open luggage, whicli yet
must always be searclied? The whole examination
goes on in the street, whatever the weather may be,
without shelter of any kind. There is a little railing
at one place, to keep off the beggars, and that is all.
The exorbitance of the porters was something quite
astounding: besides charging enormously for every-
thing that they carried, they endeavoured to make
me pay a peseta for my parasol, which I had in my
own hand all the time. How we longed for the
civilization of Morocco !

When we got to the hotel, matters did not
materially improve; it was excessively dirty, the
food was bad and insuflS.cient, and the attendance
simply did not exist at all. The much-boasted
Alameda was dii'ty, dusty, and forlorn, with no view
of the sea ; in fact, it is but a broad street, not par-
ticularly handsome, with a few trees growing by the
pavement. The cold was bitter ; neither out of doors
nor in could we find shelter from the fierce north-west
wind ; the streets were dii*ty and evil-smelling, the
shops like those in a foui-th-rate English town, with
nothing Spanish about them. They were, however,
"full of excellent woollen stufi's, blankets, and the like,
which, judging by the severe cold in October, must
be very useful in winter. It is surprising that

The Cathedral. 2>11

invalids should come to Malaga, when there are
so many more attractive places in Spain and else-
where.

The steep walk up to the Castle, the Gibalfaro, is
very beautiful. Besides the view over the sea, there
are some lovely peeps through the rents in the old
wall. Malaga, surrounded with the brilliant green
sugar-canes, and backed by purple mountains, is seen
through a frame of bright orange sandstone. At the
fortress they made no difficulty about admitting us ;
but they did not seem quite to like our guide ac-
companying us, and made him write his name.
When we got down again, we found there had been a
pronunciainiento, that is, a riot in the principal square
during our absence. We had heard some firing, but
supposed it to be merely a review, or something of
that kind. I believe nobody was hurt, and no harm
done.

There is very little to see in Malaga, and that little
not particularly interesting. We went to the Ca-
thedral, which is said to be in wretched taste ; it is
not very beautiful, but it is extremely well kept, and
its great size makes it rather handsome. In Malaga,
it is well not to expect much from the architecture,
or indeed from anything else except the surrounding
scenery. We went up the Cathedral tower, in spite-

37^ ^ Su7umer in Spain.

of the high wind, which was terrific on the top ; but
the view at sunset was very fine.

In passing through the streets, we observed the
very prominent position which raisins occupy here,
the boxes lying everywhere in the sun at the doors of
the warehouses. They looked very good, but those
we had at dinner were a mixture of stalks, skins,
dust, and small gravel; the sweepings of the ware-
houses probably. Malaga raisins are here called
''raisins of London!" All the finest are exported.
The best thing we had at the table dliote was the
batata^ or sweet j^otato ; it is boiled in a sugary
syrup, and is excellent. We had them also at Cadiz
and Gibraltar.

.We left Malaga without regret on the 23rd of
October. The railway to Cordova passes through
magnificent scenery ; the gorge of the Guadalhorce is
stupendous, with extraordinary ravines, precipices,
and peaks of grotesque form. There is one bridge on
the route that is extremely insecure ; so much so that
the trains no longer pass over it ; everybody has to
get out and walk across. This is perfectly safe, but
it looks uncomfortable; the bridge is at a great
height, and being made for trains, and not for foot
passengers, the rails are laid on a sort of openwork,
through which it might be possible to slip, or at least

Journey to Alicante. 379>

one might very easily sprain one's ankle in some of
the gaps. The train meanwhile goes with the lug-
gage by a temporary line round a corner of the pre-
cipice, making a fearful curve, and looks exceedingly
unsafe in so doing ; of course it goes very slowly.
This provisional arrangement, like many other things
of the kind in Spain, will probably last for some time ;
that is, as long as the unsteady bridge and the little
temporary railway keep out of the ravine below. In
the meantime everybody congratulates themselves
and their neighbours when it is passed without
accident.

One last visit to the Mosque and' Court of Oranges
at Cordova, and next day we were again in the train,
bound for Alicante. It is a long journey of twenty
hours ; for there is no possibility of stopping for the
night anywhere on the way. Those who do not
dislike the sea would probably prefer to go by the
steamer from Malaga, as by the land route one must
go half-way up to Madrid, and then back again to-
Alicante.

When morning dawned we were passing through a
strange desolate country, with curious detached hills
and yellow slopes. There was no vegetation, except
dry aromatic herbs, which are considered by cullers-
of simples to possess such virtue that the Moors-

380 , A Su?nmer in Spam.

sometimes come over even yet to gather them ; and
the air felt deliciously pure and light after the atmo-
sphere of Malaga, -which was at the same time cold
and depressing. On some of those isolated hills won-
derfully picturesque castles are perched. One of the
finest is Yillena, which belonged to that learned
Marquis of Yillena who was accused of witchcraft,
and of whom it was said that he was so occupied
with the stars that he neglected the things of earth.
The most beautiful is the ruined Alcazar of Elda.

Alicante, on entering it, seems a very odd place-
indeed. The castle rises grandly on its huge yellow
rock ; but the town, not a very small one either, is at
the first glance nearly invisible, inasmuch as the
houses are exactly the same colour as the rock, and
they nestle so close to it as to be difficult to distin-
guish. Everything is the brightest yellow; castle,
rock, houses, shore, and the surrounding plain, all
look as if they were made of fine yellow sand. The
houses are high, but not handsome; the streets are
broad and tolerably regular, but have no beauty, and
are exceedingly dull. The Alameda is like that of
Malaga, only a broad street, with a few trees, and no
sea view. There are no fine churches, no Moorish
remains, not a picturesque building in the place.

Yet Alicante has a strange fascination. The castle

Alicante. 381

is superb, rising over the deep blue sea, and morning,
noonday, and, above all, sunset, kindle it into golden
glory. It scarcely looks of solid earth, so living
seems the light. At sunset the tints were the
l^rightest ; but at noon it looked quite ethereal, with
its pale azure shadows in that transparent atmo-
sphere.

The great attraction was the palm-shaded esplanade
close to the sea. The clear pure water is so deep
that large ships can ride at anchor, almost touching
the shore; the palms brought from Elche are not
very tall, but they are in profusion : there are hun-
dreds of them of different sizes ; the whole under-
growth is palm, surrounded with roses and every
bright flower. Here we used to sit for hours, looking
across those great smooth-rolling waves to the ho-
rizon, where there was always a warm vermilion flush.
The climate is enchanting; breathing becomes a
luxury in such air: it seems as if neither heat nor
cold, fatigue nor pain could touch one in that in-
tensely pure atmosphere. There is no vegetation,
except the palms and the flowers ; but that is enough :
one feels that a blade of grass would be an intrusion.

The Hotel Bossio is one of the most really comfort-
able in Spain. The Italian landlord was civility
itself, the rooms were very pretty, and the cuisine

382 A Simimer hi Spain.

faultless. There are a great many different kinds of
fish, all excellent, and the fruit is perhaps the finest
in Spain ; the melons rival those of Seville, while the
pomegranates excel all others. Sometimes they were
brought to table whole, sometimes peeled and broken
into crimson lumps ; but the prettiest way was when
they were all crumbled to pieces, and one helped one-
self to a spoonful of rubies. At breakfast they
always brought us six different kinds of fruit ; and so
liberal were they that we had the fine white Aloque
wine at the table (PJiote without any additional
charge.

We went up to the castle, and, strange to say,
encountered in this rainless climate a heavy shower
when we were on the top. The officers of the gar-
rison were extremely civil, gave us shelter in the
guard-room, and, Spanish fashion, brought us some
very cold water from the castle well. They said it
was dreadfully dull up there, and down in Alicante
was not much better. They asked us if England or
Spain was the best country, and the most prosperous.
In order to combine truth with politeness, we replied
that Spain was much the largest and had the best
climate. With this they were satisfied.

The main object of our visit to Alicante was to go
to Elche. We went in the diligence ; it is said to be

The City of Palms. 383

two hours' drive, but was really nearer three, with
the wretched horses we had. The greater part
of the way was through a desolate country ; but as
we approached Elche, here and there light tufts of
feathery palms broke the horizon; then, near a
labourer's hut, rose a group of three or four ; on the
other side, by a gateway, one, tall and slender,
towered into the sky ; next, a well, with twenty or
more, recalling the old Biblical narrative. Then we
entered the long palm-avenue ; and now we were in
a forest of thousands on thousands. The wind was
tossing the long leaves of the ever graceful, ever
restless trees, that rustled with the peculiar sound so
unlike any other, the voice of the Palm-tree.

• They grow not only round, but in the town.
Everywhere there are gardens, and every garden is
full of palms ; some straight as an arrow, others
bending low, the trunks crossing each other in all
directions : from some hung the great, rich bunches
of bright orange-coloured fruit, while others were tied
up in a point to blanch the leaves for Palm Sunday ;
and everywhere was the thick undergrowth of the
young trees. It was difficult to believe oneself in
Europe.

We were left at the little Posada, and the diligence
rolled away to Murcia. Now, this was our first ex-

.384 A Summer in Spahi.

perience of a posada ; everybody had assured us we
could not sleep at Elche, but must go aud return the
same day ; so we were not quite sure how it might
turn out. We went in by the low, broad, roughly-
paved entrance used by the carts. This led to a
court, with open galleries running round, as one sees
in many parts of Italy. In the bedrooms there was a
mud floor, and the very smallest possible amount of
furniture, consisting mainly of a truckle-bed, a broken
chair, and an exquisitely graceful water-jar. But
everything was perfectly clean, and there were no
insects of any kind whatever. Probably we were the
only English who had ever ventured on this little
inn ; certainly, I should think, the first English ladies
who had done so ; but nothing could exceed the
kindness and attention of the people. When we
came to dinner, after scrambling down the pitch dark
stair, we passed through the kitchen, where the red
firelight gleamed on swarthy faces : then there was a
large, half dark room, full of muleteers from Mui-cia,
with their wide white trousers and bright-coloured
mantas ; ofi" this was the little room where we were to
dine. It was brilliantly lighted, almost dazzling us
after the semi-obscurity we had been stumbling
through; the table was prettily arranged, with an
•extremely clean and white table-cloth, crystal bottles

An Oriental. 385

of glowing red wine, and tall cut crystal dishes full
of splendid grapes, melons, and pomegranates. I
must confess that one of those dishes, being broken
through the middle, always fell to pieces at the
slightest touch ; still the whole effect was very pretty
I am not sure that this room had a door ; if it had it
could not be shut ; but yet we were considered to be
in absolute seclusion, and nobody on the other side of
the threshold took the Slightest notice of us. Theo-
retically, it was supposed they did not see us.

When we entered the room, a dark turbaned Ori-
ental was sitting at the table. He was in Eastern
costume ; Syrian, not Moorish. Presently, when he
was trying to explain something to the girl who
waited on us, some words of Italian slipped out in his
struggles to speak Spanish. Kow, the girl's native
tongue was Yalencian, which is a dialect of Pro-
vengal, and not Spanish at all ; and though she under-
stood a little of the latter language, it was not to the
extent of enabling her to comprehend every attempt
made by a foreigner to speak it ; and the Oriental's
half Italian, half Spanish, was pronounced with an
exceedingly strong Arabic accent : the consequence
was, that she did not understand a word, and the
perplexity was great. Seeing that it was hopeless,
I offered to interpret; he was delighted to talk

2 c

386 A Siijnmer in Spain.

Italian, which he spoke fluently, and told us that he
was a Christian from Bethlehem, who was selling
rosaries from the Holy Land. He said that Spain
was the only country he had travelled through where
they seemed to dislike his Eastern dress, and that
nobody would believe that he was a Christian. This
was natui'al enough, as they, of course, thought he
was a Moor.

At night, the muleteers slept in the court, in the
moonlight, wrapped up in their great manias. The
Murcian manta is a sort of white woollen blanket, with
stripes of very bright colour. Their carts and mules
were also decked with tufts and tassels of gay- coloured
worsted, generally yellow, red, and orange.

Before the door of the Posada grew the largest
pepper-tree I have ever seen. Its trunk bent over a
good deal, and there was a stone below to stand on,
so I contrived to measure it ; and found that at eight
feet from the ground it was nine feet in circumference.
It was very tall, too, and wonderfully full of leaf ; its
branches fell in a cataract of bright green foliage.
There were many smaller pepper-trees also. But the
palms were the great charm of the place ; we went
into one of the gardens outside the walls, and the
gardener climbed the tree in a very curious way, and
gathered dates for us. He fastened himself loosely to

The Alcazar. 387

the tree with, a rope, and then ran up like a monkey
and gathered the fruit. The dates were scarcely-
ripe ; they were small, and we did not think
them very good : after keeping them a few days, they
became moist and began to wither; they were then
much sweeter, but had a slight taste of fermentation.
We were told that if we had kept them a little longer,
they would have become very good ; but we could not
carry them about with us, with the sugary sap run-
ning over everything. In this date-garden the chairs
they brought us were particularly pretty, being made
of beautifully woven palm-leaves.

From the top of the Town-hall the view is very
extraordinary. The flat roofs and dark blue, glitter-
ing dome peep out of the palm- forest, v/hich extends
in all directions, as far as the eye can reach ; except
southward, where it is bounded by one gleam of the
wine-coloured sea. The top of this building is, how-
ever, not a very safe place to wander about on, for it
is at a great height, and there is not an inch of parapet
of any kind.

"We walked to the upper end of the town to look at
the grim tower of the old Alcazar ; it is now used as a
prison. At one of the small grated windows we saw
a hideous face. Our guide said this was a murderer,
who had killed his father, in order to secure some

2 c 2

388 A Siwmier in Spain.

small sum of money. He was under sentence of death ;
but when it would be carried into effect, if ever, was
doubtful. In the meantime he was singing merrily.

The population of Elche have the character of
being ferocious and sanguinary, but they are not im-
polite to strangers ; their savageness taking the form
of feuds among themselves, often ending in bloodshed.
They are also much given to stabbing the owners of
the date-gardens ; the consequence is that all the
great proprietors live at Alicante or elsewhere, leaving
the management of everything entirely to the gar-
deners.

Perhaps the finest view of Elche is from the oppo-
site side of the Rambla. This Eambla is not, as one
might suppose, a gay and handsome street, with shops
and shady trees, like that of Barcelona^ Her