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IMPRESSIONS OF SPAIN.
[Illustration: _Alfonso XIII._]
IMPRESSIONS
OF SPAIN.
BY
ALBERT F. CALVERT, F.R.G.S.
AUTHOR OF
“_The Discovery of Australia_,” “_The Exploration of Australia_,”
“_My Fourth Tour in Western Australia_,”
“_The Political Value of our Colonies_,”
_etc._, _etc._
[Illustration]
LONDON:
GEORGE PHILIP & SON, LIMITED, 32, FLEET STREET.
LIVERPOOL:
PHILIP, SON & NEPHEW, 45-51, SOUTH CASTLE STREET.
_All rights reserved._
1903.
[Illustration]
TO
SEÑOR DON SEBASTIAN BARRIS.
MY DEAR BÁRRIS,
As the pleasure and instruction I have derived from my different visits
to Spain have been contributed to so largely by your unfailing kindness
and invaluable counsel, so the culminating pleasure of this modest
attempt to set down my impressions of your fair country lies in the
privilege of inscribing the result to you. In you I shall ever feel that
I have a firm and wise friend and lenient critic, and I beg you to
enhance the obligation of friendship by accepting this dedication with
the assurance of my regard and esteem.
ALBERT F. CALVERT.
“ROYSTON,”
SWISS COTTAGE, N.W.
PREFACE.
There is a character in current drama who devoted his whole life to the
writing of a book. He called it a “pamphlet,” because he had intended it
to be a pamphlet when he started on his task, but in its completed state
the work filled three mighty folio volumes. Although the present volume
has not attained such gargantuan proportions, it is considerably longer
than I had thought to make it. It is not put forward as an exhaustive or
profound study of Spain and the Spaniards, but as a simple record of
impressions of people I have met and places I have visited during a
series of many journeyings in different parts of that greatly
interesting and much misunderstood country. These impressions were
meant, in the beginning, to form a small collection of sketches and
appreciations; and, although the number has increased beyond the limits
of my original intentions, the design and scope of the book have not
been revised or amplified. The result of this desultory system of
working is a string of disconnected chapters--the first fruits of
fugitive note-book jottings collected over a period of several
years--rather than a concentrated and comprehensive survey of the
subject as a whole.
But the system was also fraught with an unforeseen technical difficulty,
as I discovered when I came to arrange my illustrations. The photographs
that I acquired--sometimes singly and sometimes in batches--during my
frequent visits to Spain, increased out of all proportion to the
“increasing purpose” of my manuscript, and in the end I was confronted
with the alternative options of leaving out a great many of my most
recent and best pictures of Granada and the Alhambra, or of publishing
them _en masse_ at the back of the volume.
The fact that I am even now engaged in gathering material and making
notes for a work upon the Alhambra, which I hope shortly to publish,
tempted me to hold these surplus illustrations in reserve. But I have
hopes that the fragmentary nature of my material, and, in many cases,
lack of style and finish in its transcription, may be atoned for by the
variety and charm of the pictorial side of the book; and, with this
desideratum in my mind, I decided to reproduce the overflow pictures in
the form of an appendix.
To the many friends in Spain who have assisted me in my work, with
counsel, information, practical aid, and inexhaustible hospitality, and
particularly to Messrs. HAUSER and MENET, Messrs. LAURENT and CO., and
Señor GARZON, the photographic artists who have supplied me with
pictures beyond those I took myself, and favoured me with permission to
reproduce them, I wish to tender my sincere and grateful thanks.
It may be that my personal relations with the Spanish people have been
more fortunate than that of some other authors, whose books on Spain I
have seen; but in a somewhat wide experience of countries and men, I
have never met their equals in courtesy and true consideration to the
stranger within their gates. I have encountered all sorts and conditions
of men in the sunny South, the black North, and the thriving East of the
kingdom, and from each and every one I have received nothing but
kindness and good-will. I have written enthusiastically in the following
pages about the Spaniards, for in every Spaniard I have met I feel that
I have a friend.
A. F. C.
AUTHORS’ CLUB,
LONDON, S.W.,
NOVEMBER, 1903.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
ALFONSO XIII. _Frontispiece_
PORTRAITS AND PICTURES.
PAGE
THE FAMILY OF CHARLES V., BY GOYA 242
THE VELASQUEZ GALLERY IN THE MUSEUM, MADRID 243
THE DIVINE FAMILY, BY MURILLO 246
BARTOLOME ESTEBAN, BY MURILLO 247
THE DIVINE FAMILY, BY MURILLO 249
THE DIVINE SHEPHERD, BY MURILLO 250
A CONCEPTION, BY MURILLO 251
THE KING OF SPAIN--1886, 1891, 1892, 1893, 1895,
1896, 1898, 1901, 1902 255
THE KING AND HIS MOTHER 257
S. M. EL REY ALFONSO XIII. 259
S. A. INFANTA MARIA TERESA 262
S. A. LA PRINCESA DE ASTURIAS 263
S. A. R. EL INFANTE DON CARLOS 264
ANTONIO FUENTES 224
LUIS MAZZANTINI AND CUADRILLA 224
GUERRITA. _Bandillero_ 224
THE SURRENDER OF GRANADA BY BOABDIL TO FERDINAND AND
ISABELLA, 1492 Appendix
VIEWS.
_ALICANTE._
ELCHE (WOMEN WASHING) 1
ELCHE 5
THE ESPLANADE 83
ESPLANADE AND WHARF 84
THE “MARTYR’S PROMENADE” 85, 86
“ “ (HIGH ROAD) 87
VIEW OF ELCHE 88
ENTRANCE TO THE STATION, ELCHE 91
_MADRID._
IN OLD MADRID 10
ROYAL PALACE 11
A CORNER IN THE ROYAL PALACE 12
THE THRONE ROOM, ROYAL PALACE 13
THE RIVER MANZANARES 15
AVENUE OF SAN GERONIMO AND PARLIAMENT HOUSE 19
THE “PUERTA DEL SOL,” FROM THE HOTEL DE PARIS 23
THE BANK OF SPAIN 27
THE COUNSELLOR OF THE VILLAGE 31
AN ORANGE SELLER 31
A DANCER 31
FULL LIST OF LOTTERY RESULTS 31
SKETCHES IN SPAIN 35
A MILK STALL 39
THE BULL RING 41
_EL ESCORIAL._
ESCORIAL MONASTERY, THE EVANGELIST’S COURT 44
GENERAL VIEW OF THE MONASTERY 45
THE ESCORIAL LIBRARY 47
MASS BOOK OF PHILIP II., THE ESCORIAL LIBRARY 48
THE ROYAL PALACE, ARANJUEZ 49
_BARCELONA._
GENERAL VIEW 51
A NATIVE OF CATALONIA 53
THE CASCADE 55
SEÑOR BÁRRIS’S HOUSE 57
SNAPSHOT IN SEÑOR BÁRRIS’S GARDEN 59
“RAMBLA DE LAS FLORES” 61
THE COLON (COLUMBUS) PROMENADE 65
THE COLUMBUS COLUMN 67
PLAZA DEL REY 68
ARAGON STREET 69
LYRIC THEATRE 56
EXHIBITION HALL 56
PRINCIPAL THEATRE 56
THE PRIM MEMORIAL 106
_MONSERRAT._
THE MONASTERY 71
_TARRAGONA._
THE AQUEDUCT 73
GENERAL VIEW 74
_SAGUNTO._
THE ROMAN THEATRE 75
_TORTOSA._
GENERAL VIEW 76
_CASTELLON._
WINDING OF THE HIGH ROAD ON CUERVO MOUNTAIN 77
_VALENCIA._
ST. CATHERINE’S SQUARE AND TOWER 78
GENERAL VIEW 79
THE EXCHANGE 81
A VALENCIANA 82
TRINITY BRIDGE 84
GLORIETA FOUNTAIN 84
THE MEDITERRANEAN SHORE 84
BEACHING THE BOATS 84
VALENCIAN BEAUTIES 240
A TARTANA 92
_CARTHAGENA._
GENERAL VIEW 89
_MURCIA._
A NATIVE OF 92, 93
A NOON-TIME HALT 92
THE HARVEST CART 92
A CARTLOAD OF TINAJAS 92
_TOLEDO._
CHURCH OF SANTA MARIA DE LA BLANCA 95
THE VISAGRA GATE 96
THE DOOR OF THE SUN 97
THE CATHEDRAL 99
ST. MARTIN’S BRIDGE 101
CHURCH OF SAN JUAN DE LOS REYES, COURTYARD 102
THE CATHEDRAL, CENTRAL NAVE 102
“ EXTERIOR OF HIGH ALTAR 102
“ THE LION DOOR 102, 104
“ THE HIGH ALTAR 97
“ SEPULCHRE OF ALONSO DE CARRILLO 104
“ GENERAL VIEW OF THE CHOIR-STALLS 100
“ INTERIOR 100
CHURCH OF SAN JUAN DE LOS REYES, RETABLO 104
“ “ “ INTERIOR 104
ALCÁNTARA DOOR AND BRIDGE 98
“ GATE 98
FAÇADE OF SANTA CRUZ 98
THE CATHEDRAL 98
CONVENT OF SAN JUAN DE LA PENITENCIA Appendix
_CÓRDOVA._
BRIDGE AND CATHEDRAL 104
THE MOSQUE 106
CATHEDRAL, CHOIR STALLS 106
“ GENERAL INTERIOR VIEW 106
AT THE FOUNTAIN 162
AT THE SPRING 162
IN THE COURT OF ORANGES 140
THE MOSQUE, A CORNER IN Appendix
“ INTERIOR “
CATHEDRAL, TOWER “
_ANDALUSIA._
ANDALUSIAN GALLANTRY 160
_BURGOS._
THE CATHEDRAL, FROM THE CASTLE 109
_SEGOVIA._
A GENERAL VIEW 113
A NATIVE 114
_AVILA._
VIEW OF 115
_CIUDAD-REAL._
GENERAL VIEW 116
_CUENCA._
THE VALLEY OF THE JUCAR 117
VIEW FROM SAN JUAN HILL 119
VIEW OF CUENCA 120
_GRANADA._
VIEW FROM THE “BARRANCO DE LA ZORRA” (THE FOX’S HOLE) 125
THE WINE DOOR 127
ENTRANCE TO THE COURT OF LIONS 128
THE INFANTAS’ TOWER 131
EL GENERALIFFE 133
“ “ THE ACEQUIA COURT, FROM MAIN ENTRANCE 134
LA ALCAICERIA 135
VIEW OF ALBAYCIN 137
COURTYARD OF AN ARAB HOUSE 139
THE GENERALIFFE 2
THE LADIES’ TOWER, THE ALHAMBRA 15
THE GIPSY QUARTERS 15
A STREET IN GRANADA 14
ARAB SILK MARKET 14
SHOWING THE ALHAMBRA AND THE SIERRA NEVADA 128
THE SACRISTY OF THE CARTUJA CONVENT 120
THE COLUMBUS MEMORIAL 140
GROUP OF GYPSIES 140
TRANSEPT AND HIGH ALTAR, CATHEDRAL 122
_THE ALHAMBRA._
THE COURT OF LIONS 130, 132
HALL OF AMBASSADORS 132
THE FAVOURITE’S BALCONY 132
THE COURT OF LIONS, A LITTLE TEMPLE IN “
“ “ A PEEP INTO “
“ “ LITTLE EASTERN TEMPLE IN “
“ “ FOUNTAIN IN “
HALL OF THE COURT OF JUSTICE AND COURT OF LIONS “
INTERIOR OF THE MOSQUE “
THE CAPTIVE’S TOWER “
THE SULTAN’S BATH “
THE DRESSING ROOM “
HALL OF THE TWO SISTERS “
HALL OF THE COURT OF JUSTICE “
THE DOOR OF JUSTICE “
THE CAPTIVE AND CADID TOWERS “
WASHINGTON IRVING HOTEL “
ENTRANCES TO THE ALHAMBRA “
THE COURT OF MYRTLES 132 “
“ “ GALLERY IN “
PALACE OF CHARLES V. “
“ “ ROMAN COURT “
THE ALHAMBRA AND THE SIERRA NEVADA “
THE ROYAL CHAPEL, CATHEDRAL “
EL GENERALIFFE, THE ACEQUIA COURT “
“ “ CYPRUS COURT “
“ “ GALLERY IN THE ACEQUIA COURT “
“ “ A CORNER OF THE ACEQUIA COURT “
_SEVILLE._
GENERAL VIEW, FROM THE TOP OF THE “GIRALDA,” LOOKING EAST 143
DANCING BOYS, CATHEDRAL 145
THE TOWER OF THE GOLD 146
GIRLS’ COURT IN THE ALCÁZAR 148
CATHEDRAL 149
ENTRANCE TO THE ALCÁZAR 150
THE ALCÁZAR, AMBASSADOR’S HALL 151, 158
“ A DOORWAY IN 152
CIGAR MAKERS 154
A SEVILLIAN 155
THE “SEVILLANAS” DANCE 156
CATHEDRAL, EXTERIOR 146
“ FIFTEENTH CENTURY GRATING 152
THE ALCÁZAR, GARDENS 148, 150
“ SULTANA’S QUARTERS 158
“ INTERCOLUMNIATION, WHERE DON FADRIQUE WAS
ASSASSINATED 158
“ THE COURT OF DOLLS 152
SAN FERNANDO SQUARE 150
A SEVILLIAN PATIO 162
A STREET 152
GALLERY OF PILATE’S HOUSE 152
_CADIZ._
VIEW FROM THE TAVIRA TOWER 165
VIEW FROM SAN CARLOS BATTERY 168
_MÁLAGA._
VIEW FROM THE “FAROLA PROMENADE” 169
VIEW FROM THE “GIBRALFARO” 173
_RONDA._
THE GORGE 176
GENERAL VIEW, WITH THE MOORISH BRIDGE OF THE “TAGO DE
RONDA” 177
_HENDAYE._
GENERAL VIEW 181
_IRUN._
GENERAL VIEW 182
_PASAJES._
VIEW OF THE TOWN 183
_GUIPÚZCOA._
PASAJES DE SAN JUAN 184
_SAN SEBASTIAN._
CONCHA PROMENADE 185
_BILBAO._
SUBURBS 186
GENERAL VIEW 187
VIZCAYA BRIDGE 189
OLD BILBAO 190
THE ARENAL PROMENADE 191
THE ORCONERO IRON ORE COMPANY’S WHARF IN LUCHANA 193
_GALICIA._
A NATIVE 195
NATIVES 196
VIEWS IN GALICIA 199
_PONTEVEDRA._
GENERAL VIEW OF REDONDELA 197
GENERAL VIEW 201
_CORUÑA._
GENERAL VIEW TAKEN FROM THE OLD TOWN 200
_VIGO._
VIEW FROM THE CASTLE 205
_GIJON._
THE WHARF 207
_SANTANDER._
THE PORT 208
GENERAL VIEW 209
_LEÓN._
THE CATHEDRAL 210
CLOISTER IN CATHEDRAL 211
THE CATHEDRAL CHOIR STALLS 211
VIEW TAKEN FROM THE CEMETERY 212
_SALAMANCA._
GENERAL VIEW 213
VIEW OF THE COLLEGE, FROM THE IRLANDESES 214
_ZARAGOZA._
“INDEPENDENCIA” PROMENADE 215
PILAR CHURCH 217
A FLEMISH DANCE 218
THE BOUQUET--THE DAWN OF ST. JOHN’S DAY 160
_NUEVALOS._
AT NUEVALOS 218
_THE CORONATION OF ALFONSO XIII., 1902._
THE KING’S CARRIAGE 264
ARRIVAL AT THE CONGRESS 264
PROCESSION OF THE CORONATION BULL-FIGHT 264
_LINARES._
GENERAL VIEW 340
_PONFERRADA._
VIEW OF THE CASTLE 340
_BULL-FIGHTING._
THE PROCESSION 221
ENTRANCE OF THE BULL 223
THE PICADOR 227
AT CLOSE QUARTERS 230
A TURN WITH HIS BACK TO THE BULL 233
FIXING THE BANDERILLAS 235
THE MATADOR 237
THE FINAL STROKE 239
ENTERTAINING THE BULL-FIGHTERS 160
BULL-FIGHTERS AT THE TAVERN 240
A PICADOR 240
MINING VIEWS.
_BILBAO._
THE UNION MINE 270
ORCONERA IRON ORE COMPANY 278
ORCONERA COMPANY’S WORKINGS 281
THE RAILWAY SYSTEM 283
TRANSPORT OF ORE, ARCOCHA 285
LOS ALTOS HORNOS DEL DISIERTO 287
_RIO TINTO._
TERMINUS OF THE MINE RAILWAY 271
THE CANAL SYSTEM 272
SAN DIONISIO SHAFT 306
MINES 288
THE LAGO CUTTING 289, 292
THE FRAMES 291
THE CUTTINGS 293
_HUELVA._
PORTION OF WORKS, AND SAN FERNANDO VILLAGE 276
CEMENTATION VATS 277
HEAD OF THE SAINTE-BARBE SHAFT 305
_ALMERIA._
THE PORT OF ALMERIA 294
WASHING FOR ALLUVIAL TIN 296
A TRENCH IN TIN ORE 299
_AGUILAS._
THE RAILWAY 321
THE CASTLE AND HARBOUR 324
_PÁRAMO._
THE OLD GOLD WORKINGS 303
GENERAL VIEW 334
ALLUVIAL GOLD WASHING 335
_ESCURIAL._
PORTION OF BUILDINGS 309
A CUTTING 310, 317
“DOLORES,” “JAIME,” AND MAIN SHAFT 311, 313
GALAPAGAR SMELTING WORKS 313
ENGINE HOUSE AND BLACKSMITH’S SHOP 315
SNAPSHOT SHOWING CUTTING 318
_HUÉRCAL._
BÁRRIS CUTTING 320
THE CHURCH 322
HEAPS OF COPPER ORE 325
_BADAJOZ._
LAS PALMAS BRIDGE 338
MAPS.
GENERAL MAP OF SPAIN 1
RAILWAY MAP OF SPAIN 267
MINING MAP OF SPAIN 273
MAP SHOWING ALLUVIAL GOLD DISTRICT IN NORTH-WEST SPAIN 301
CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTORY 1
MADRID 10
EL ESCORIAL 43
BARCELONA 50
ON THE EAST COAST 73
A PEEP INTO MURCIA 83
TOLEDO AND CÓRDOVA 95
THE CASTILES 108
GRANADA AND THE ALHAMBRA 122
SEVILLE 141
IN SOUTHERN ANDALUSIA 164
THE BASQUE PROVINCES 180
IN NORTHERN SPAIN 195
BULL-FIGHTING 220
THE PICTURE GALLERY, MADRID 241
VIVA EL REY 254
MINING 269
[Illustration: ELCHE--WOMEN WASHING.]
Introductory Chapter.
From the wild gorges and noble crags of the Pyrenees, and the treeless
and apparently uninhabited sierras of the North--vast, solitary, and
impressive--to the snow-capped hills of the mid-interior, “the palms and
temples of the South,” and the unrivalled beauty of the country from
Seville to Granada--SPAIN is a land to entrance the traveller. Its great
and terribly chequered history is writ large upon the face of the
country. Its people have undergone as great, if not greater,
vicissitudes than any other people upon the earth, and to-day there does
not exist a race more courtly, more sincere, and with more confidence in
their country and themselves than the Spanish. As Iberia, Spain was
known to the Greeks; the Phœnicians and the Carthaginians have left
their traces there: as Hispania, it came beneath the sway of Imperial
Rome; it was ravaged by the Franks. For three centuries it was misruled
by West Gothic kings: it was conquered, pillaged, and tyrannised over by
the Arabs and Moors for nearly 800 years.
Then came the period of Spain’s greatness. When Philip II. ascended the
throne in 1556, he became ruler of an immense empire--the first empire
on which the sun never set. Portugal was then a portion of Spain by
right of conquest; Sicily, a great part of Italy, Holland, and Belgium,
practically the whole of the North and the entire Continent of South
America, besides the Philippines and other islands in the East, and
parts of Africa, were all under Spanish rule. Before he died, in 1598,
the power of Spain was at its zenith. At this period the fame and dread
of her army was heard and felt through the world; her scientific and
artistic eminence was unchallenged. No valour could withstand the charge
of the Spanish pikemen; it was the Spanish galleys, under the command of
a Spanish prince, that broke the Turks at Lepanto; the palaces of the
king were adorned by the glorious genius of Velasquez and Murillo; and
all Europe joined in delight over that first great novel of Cervantes.
At the beginning of the 17th century, as the Rev. Wentworth Webster
concisely and luminously writes, “the Spanish armies were the first in
the world, her navy was the largest: at its close the latter was
annihilated, her army was unable, without assistance from Louis XIV., to
establish the sovereign of her choice; population had declined from
eight to less than six millions, the revenue from 280 to thirty
millions; not a single soldier of talent, not a statesman remained to
recall the glories of the age of Charles V. and Philip II.; the whole
country grovelled in discontent at the foot of unworthy favourites
raised to power by court intrigues, and dependent on a foreign prince. A
period of resuscitation, under Charles III., was followed by a signal
relapse. The influence of the unscrupulous Godoy led to the internal
complications which lost Spain her remaining Colonial prestige, and gave
the crown of Spain to Joseph Bonaparte. The Peninsular War, the loss of
the whole of Spanish Continental America, and the two Carlist wars
followed. The war with the United States in 1898 was the preface to the
abolition in 1899 of the Spanish Colonial Office as being ‘no longer
necessary.’”
In my opinion, the deprivation of her Colonial possessions has been a
blessing in disguise to Spain, inasmuch as it will afford her the
opportunity of embarking on much-needed schemes of domestic reform. As
long as her Colonies imposed an almost intolerable drain on the national
exchequer, it was impossible for Spain to attend to matters of urgent
importance at home. I regret, however, that this was not accomplished in
a different way. When the Spanish Government realised that America had
determined to acquire Cuba, it was a great pity that they did not
entertain the proposals made for the purchase of that island, instead of
rendering it necessary for the Cabinet at Washington to find some excuse
for the war of conquest upon which they subsequently embarked.
But in spite of the dramatic epoch-making vicissitudes, and the
strongly-contrasted periods of greatness and disruption that Spain has
experienced by turns, she has altered as little as any European country.
The Spaniard is conservative in the best, as well as the worst sense of
the word. His pride is at once his curse and his salvation; his lofty
but gentle resignation is immensely attractive; his courtliness never
fails him. His confidence in himself is, as has been said, unbounded. In
the course of a conversation I had with a Castilian recently, he
remarked: “We have been referred to as a decaying nation, a country to
be plundered and divided up among the European powers. Before Spain is
conquered there will be several million corpses between Madrid and the
sea.”
Nobody who has any acquaintance with the Peninsula and its people can
listen without impatience to the jeremiads of the superior politicians
who predict the decay of Spain. For in spite of the accumulated trials,
the disasters, and the strife of centuries, there has lived in the
hearts and imaginations of the Spanish people a tradition too great to
die. They have preserved under the stress of widely-varying fortune a
fortitude and dignity which have prevented the nations, who have passed
them in prosperity and power, from regarding them except with respect
and admiration. Still, as in the days of Cervantes and Velasquez, the
true order of nobility has not been that of formal rank so much as that
of the whole nation and the characteristic Spaniard, whether the grandee
of the court, or the beggar of the highway, has always known how to wrap
his cloak about him with an air that seemed to make misfortunes
honourable, and all the material success of the commercial ages a form
of vulgarity. Notwithstanding the losses which have stripped them from
generation to generation of their conquests, down even to the final
blows of the war with America, they have dormant reserves of vitality
and vigour only awaiting the touch of genuine leadership, and the
inspiration of some hopeful national movement, to make a country
containing eighteen millions of inhabitants capable of resuming its
place as one of the foremost European nations.
In the past few years there has been a growing instinct in Spain that
when things have reached their worst they must begin to mend, and that
the disappearance of the last vestiges of external empire will assuredly
mark the real beginning of national regeneration. That Spain has been
mis-governed, her Governments have been incompetent, and her official
parasites insatiable is only too true, and it is scarcely to be wondered
at if her people have grown dispirited, pessimistic, and distrustful of
everybody except their individual selves. After himself, the Spaniard’s
first pride is in his native province. Northern Spain has little
interest or confidence in the South, nor the East in the West; and
North, East, South, and West were, until recently, supremely indifferent
to the course of events in any other quarter of the globe. But this
self-concentration is gradually disappearing, the Spaniard is learning
to regard himself with an “outside eye,” and the outside world with a
broader sympathy. Moreover, he has come to view the resources of his
country in a more practical and business-like light, catching, it may
be, the reflection of the awakened interest that they are attracting
among the neighbouring nations.
[Illustration: ELCHE, ALICANTE]
For many years now, Spain has formed a great and interesting problem. In
a book, published in 1884, we read as follows: “English and German
papers are continually proclaiming the fact, and usually painting the
situation in rosy hues; statesmen are cherishing ideas of commercial
treaties, and relations of closer friendship and wider import; merchants
are turning eager and inquiring eyes upon the comparatively untried
ground: and speculators are fondly hoping that they have at last
discovered, after many lean years, an El Dorado in Spain that shall not
prove barren or unfruitful.”
That the reaction was imminent at the time the foregoing was penned
cannot be doubted, but the hoped-for movement was checked by the
declaration of war by the United States in 1899. The consequences of
that terrible and futile struggle fell with paralysing severity upon the
whole country, but the story of the war cannot be regarded as a fair
test of the military prestige of her people. Nothing was wanting in the
warlike impact to throw into relief the condition of the country as
contrasted with the temper of her sons. All the chivalry of ancient
Spain was fully displayed. Individual courage and bravery were
splendidly in evidence. But they availed nothing against the nation that
had made haste to take the fullest advantage of modern methods and
appliances. The weakness of her fleet, the mismanagement of her military
system, and the inefficiency of officialdom in every branch of the
Government were laid bare, and it was from this combination of causes,
and not from any degeneracy in her soldiers or lack of valour, that
Spain owed her defeat.
But by this revelation the Spanish people were awakened to the fact that
they were behind the times; that their forms of government were
antiquated and inefficient; that all their national institutions cried
aloud for re-organisation and reform. Slowly at first, but increasing in
momentum as the blessings of peace made themselves felt, the forward
movement has proceeded along the entire line of politics, commerce, and
public affairs. But if the great work is to progress, as lovers of Spain
would desire to see it, the difference that at present exists between
the Spaniard, in his individual, his collective, and his official
capacity must disappear. This distinction has been emphasised before,
but it is so remarkable as to require a note in passing. Self-interest,
which is an integral part of human nature, is, or rather was, the most
highly-developed, in fact, the abnormal trait of the Spanish official.
He was irregular in his methods, and grasping--irregular, because
irregularity was connived at; greedy, because he was forced by the
paucity of his pay to live by the perquisites of his office. In his
collective capacity the Spaniard is mistrustful, strong-headed, and apt
to prove unreliable. Yet, individually, the Spaniard is remarkable for
the excellence of his personal and moral qualities. Truth and valour are
his by heredity, his personal honour is unassailable, his graceful
courtesy and air of high breeding make him a delightful companion and a
valued friend. He is quick to take offence, but he never, through
ignorance or tactlessness, proffers one; he is slow to bestow his
confidence, but he never, without cause, withdraws it. You may trust him
with your purse, your life, and your reputation. And this wonderful
combination of qualities is common alike to the nobles, the townsmen,
and the country people. All appear to have inherited the same dignity
and grace of manner, and the same sterling moral qualities.
Borrow, who had an intimate knowledge of and admiration for the Spanish
people, has declared that, in their social intercourse, no people in the
world exhibit a juster feeling of what is due to the dignity of human
nature than the Spaniards. Spain still retains all those old world,
social, and personal graces with which poetry, painting, and romance
have made the untravelled familiar. Grace is not necessarily a virtue,
but it is a flower often found on the path that leads to it. And these
flowers spring as naturally from racial instincts as do the more
prominent traits exhibited in etiquette and statecraft. Spanish
character is touched; nay, it is entirely imbued with the “grace of a
day that is dead.” The very beggars, whom you encounter in every
bye-way, do not lack this native grace which no mere acquirement could
exhibit. The receiver of a dole regards it as a tacit acknowledgment
that he is worthy of it on principle. But there is a certain charm in
Spanish indolence, even in its indigence, which is as much a production
of the country as are the soft skies and natural beauties that form its
fitting background. The politeness of the peasantry is proverbial, but
they are keenly alive to the point of an equal return of civility. Even
the brigand was wont to regard himself as a great caballero: and he was
often disarmed by a frank and confident air which tacitly acknowledged
him on that footing. The idler pursues his vocation as if imbued with a
full sense of its sufficiency, and supplements it with a grace beyond
the reach of art. Truly this is a nation of nobles, and here is a
foundation of national character which has in the past, and will again
make the Spanish race one of the greatest powers of the world.
Will Spain revive? The problem is exercising the thoughts of all
Europe--by those who do not know better the question is assumed to be
also exercising the thoughts of all good Spaniards. As a matter of fact,
the Spaniard is above such speculation. He knows his high destiny, and
he will fulfil himself. His confidence is supreme, and it is justified.
He has driven back every invader, and remains in full possession of one
of the noblest countries in the world, nearly the size of France, with a
climate which, if he were permitted to re-forest his plateaux, would be
as good, though warmer, with the same power, if industry were set free,
of producing wine, and oil, and wheat: and with deposits below the soil
incomparably greater than those of his successful neighbour; and,
perhaps, as rich as any country in the world. Spain, as we were recently
reminded by a well-informed writer in the _Spectator_, is a “treasure
house of minerals never yet rifled, though from the days of the
Phœnicians to those of the Rio Tinto, countless speculators have been
breaking into little corners and going away enriched.”
And what is her position to-day? She has 18,000,000 of people, who, if
they are not as industrious as either Germans or Englishmen, will, when
properly rewarded, work as energetically as any Southern race, and will
save their wages. Her children are as brave as any in the world: able,
if fairly led, to face any other troops, and with a special faculty at
once of endurance and abstinence which scarcely any other troops
possess. Seated on the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, with a nearly
impenetrable frontier to the North, and only Africa to the South, she
occupies, perhaps, the best position both for war and trade possessed by
any European State: and will, with a decent administration and a new
revenue, become once more as great a maritime Power as she was till
Admiral Jervis defeated her fleet off Cape Vincent. She could not,
perhaps, rule the Mediterranean; but she could, by alliances, render it
impossible for any other Power to rule. Above all, she could suddenly
add to her strength, not by conquest, but by wisely-applied pressure and
support, the whole force of Portugal--Prim nearly achieved this. Spain
might thus assume, with an increasing population, fairly rich and
entirely contented, that position of a great Power, which she has never
entirely lost. The potentialities of Spain justify Spanish pride.
Madrid
[Illustration: IN OLD MADRID.]
Among the cities of Spain, I write first of Madrid, because I knew it
first, and because I know of no city that has been more systematically
and unjustifiably maligned. My first visit to Madrid was undertaken on
business grounds; but I have returned there many times since, and always
with feelings of the keenest pleasure. There is, to me, what the
Americans describe as a “homey” air about the city, that may in a
measure be accounted for by the good fortune I have had in finding
friends there. The friendship of a Spaniard is so genuine, and
inspiriting, and whole-hearted, that an Englishman cannot in a moment
comprehend it. When a Spaniard extends his friendship to you, your
comfort, your interests, and your honour becomes as much a matter for
his concern as his own. I first learned to understand this in Madrid. At
that time the English were not reported to be held in favour in Spain,
and I was advised to be prepared for an unfriendly reception. But I was,
on that visit, and on each subsequent visit, agreeably disappointed; and
although I have wandered pretty extensively over many parts of the
Peninsula, I have
[Illustration: ROYAL PALACE, MADRID.]
never found it to be other than an advantage to be an Englishman. I have
seen the Britisher hustled in Paris, scowled at in Italy, and made the
butt of cheap Teutonic wit in Germany, but in Spain he is invariably
treated with the kindest consideration. I was told by an English
engineer that the explanation of this friendly attitude, on the part of
the Spanish people, was to be found in the fact that the country has not
yet endured the curse of the average British tourist. It may be so, yet
the influence of the English is very marked in the city of Madrid, if
not to the full extent that it appears to be at first sight.
[Illustration: A CORNER IN THE ROYAL PALACE, MADRID.]
An American writer, who “did” Spain in the customary slapdash,
get-there-and-get-away-again-fashion of American globetrotters, was not
a little chagrined to find in Madrid, English goods, English manners,
and English influence predominating over those of any other foreign
nation. In Spain, American means South American, and the Yankee is
indiscriminately included in the category labelled “Ingleses.” American
tram-cars and other Trans-atlantic inventions are thus wrongly credited
to the English; and the writer declares that his indignation rose to
fever-heat when he entered a place marked “English drinks,” and beheld a
genuine American soda-fountain. It must be, I think, due not a little to
this unintentional injustice to the land of the great spread-eagle that
this same writer finds Madrid ill-favoured and exceedingly noisy, its
bread unappetising and heavy, and its butter bad. He cannot bring
himself to admire the _Puerta del Sol_, which is “an ordinary square,
such as may be found in almost any city of a hundred thousand
inhabitants;” and as for the climate, he flippantly dismisses it in a
phrase--“nine months’ winter and three months’ hell.” In a more
gracious mood he is inclined to think that the surroundings have been
too much depreciated by tourists and guide-book makers; while in the
rapid increase in the population, together with the healthy appearance
of the inhabitants, he discovers an indication that it may be “not quite
as bad as its reputation.”
[Illustration: THE THRONE ROOM, ROYAL PALACE MADRID]
In the foregoing, we have a _precis_ of the generally-accepted opinion
of Madrid, and it is one in which I cannot concur. The conscious
superiority of the American critic has led him into error, and I
strongly deprecate these hasty and ill-formed conclusions upon the
climate, the situation, and the city itself, which are responsible for
its undeserved reputation. Madrid stands at an elevation of 2,500
English feet above the sea level, in the centre of an open country, and
splendid views of the capital are obtained from several miles around.
Whatever may be thought as to the wisdom of selecting a capital in the
centre of a great plain, and with no water communication with the
outposts of the kingdom, one cannot but admire both its position and the
magnificence of its buildings. It is a city that, from the first moment
of viewing, throughout an entire visit, commands a whole-hearted
admiration. Immediately in front of the point of arrival, the Northern
Station, there rises up the splendid _Palacio Real_, a huge building
forming a square of 470 feet; and which, by reason both of its situation
and general appearance, is one of the most magnificent in the world.
What is true of the Palace is equally true of the other buildings of the
capital, the splendour of which is common to all the public structures.
But the natural features are a separate consideration.
The best view of the country surrounding the capital is to be obtained
from the _Parque de Madrid_. Whether you like the prospect or not is
purely a matter of individual taste. From this eminence, the vast
campagna is stretched out to its greatest advantage; and for my own
part, I know few that can compare with it. The immensity of the panorama
alone entitles it to respect. On every side, save where the Guadarrama
fling their rugged peaks skywards, the expanse is bordered only by the
far distant horizon. The sense of space that the picture conveys is
irresistibly impressive--it is more than a sight; it is an experience. I
have seen it when the land has grown lifeless and shabby for want of
rain, and when the coming storm has caused the swift clouds to drag
their huge shadows across the broad landscape, and when, after the
rains, the green pasture is lit by a purple hue, and at night, when the
indigo sky is filled with a moon of such brilliancy, and stars of such
irridescence, that the whole earth was more brightly illuminated than
Piccadilly Circus at midnight.
The climate of Madrid has suffered greatly from the strictures of
visitors, who, from one cold breeze, or a single rain storm, consider
themselves competent to form, and justified in publishing abroad, their
opinions. That the city is subject to sudden changes of temperature is
incontestable. Perched as it is on a
[Illustration: THE RIVER MANZANARES, MADRID.]
commanding table-land so far above the level of the sea, it is swept by
every breeze that blows across the wide expanse of plains by which it is
surrounded. On the northern side, the horizon is jagged by the
snow-capped peaks of the noble Guadarrama; and when the wind sets in
from that direction, it comes like an icy blast, bringing, as the
guide-book writers aver, chills and acute pneumonia with it. But the
climate, though treacherous on this account, is not unhealthy. It is
true that pneumonia is unhappily prevalent among the men of Madrid, but
the women are singularly free from the malady. There is a reason, of
course, for this curious anomaly, and it is to be found in the different
fashions in which the men and women protect themselves from the climate.
The men, as a class, are abominators of fresh air, and an “eager and a
nipping air” is to them a malignant danger to be avoided at any cost.
They live in houses, cafes, and clubs heated to the temperature of a
second-class New York hotel at mid-winter, without ventilation, and
rendered stuffy from over much tobacco smoke. When they venture into the
streets they encase themselves in heavy cloaks, throw the “capas,” or
velvet-lined capes across their mouths, and stifle behind its oppressive
folds. Is it to be wondered at, that, if by any chance the chilled wind
should penetrate, or, as more often happens, deprive the muffled
pedestrian for the space of a few inspirations of his accustomed
protector, his lungs should suffer the inevitable consequences?
But the women face the elements with a sane hardihood that makes the
“coddlings” of their men folks seem more inexplicable by comparison.
Clad in sensible, thick dresses, supplemented perhaps by a fur cape,
they brave the Winter winds with unmuffled throats, and their heads
covered only with a light mantilla; while the working women trust almost
entirely to the natural protection afforded by their splendid hair. The
result is that, while pneumonia is a veritable curse to the men, it is
practically unknown among the women.
The present excellent system of watering the streets that has been
adopted in Madrid, has greatly moderated the excessive dryness of the
atmosphere in Summer; and the increase of vegetation around and in the
city is sensibly affecting the climate. I was in Madrid one Autumn in
the rainy season. I have had some experience of the tropical rainfalls
of mid-Australia, where sandy tracks are converted in a few hours into
mighty rivers, and waggon ruts in the bosom of a hill become rushing
cataracts; but the rain that I watched for a fortnight from the
luxurious shelter of the _Hotel de Paris_ was every bit as business-like
and effective. When it was over, the foliage had put on a brighter
green, wild flowers had sprung up in profusion, and the lazy,
imperturbable Manzanares had become an angry, turbulent river. Madrid is
then a sight that it is worth enduring a fortnight of incessant rain to
see.
Coming as I did direct to Madrid, and regarding the city with eyes
unacquainted with Spanish sights, I was quick to note all the individual
characteristics of its architecture, its crowds, and its popular
customs; but even without the standards of other Spanish towns by which
to form a comparison, I could not fail to be impressed by the
cosmopolitan appearance of the capital. Madrid and Barcelona are many
years in advance of any other city in Spain; they have not outgrown
their national characteristics, but they have adopted with broad-minded
opportunism the improvements that intercourse with other nations has
made them cognisant of. The casual visitor to Madrid would, perhaps, not
regard it as a go-ahead city; and, indeed, I am assured that only those
who have a long acquaintance with the Spanish capital can appreciate the
advances it has made in the last half-century. It has extended its
boundaries, improved its condition,
[Illustration: AVENUE OF SAN GERONIMO AND PARLIAMENT HOUSE, MADRID]
and increased its notable buildings in an almost marvellous manner. The
present _Plaza de Toros_, the magnificent viaduct across the _Calle de
Segovia_, the Markets, the Hippodrome, and the _Parque de Madrid_ are
all the creation of some twenty-five years. And as Madrid has grown, the
_Madrileño_ has advanced. He, and more particularly she, has progressed
at the expense of the picturesque. English women are the beneficiaries
of French fashions, because they have no style of their own--no peculiar
modes or costumes that became them peculiarly as a race. Somebody once
said that an English woman was only a French woman badly dressed. It was
a libel; but, notwithstanding, she has lent truth to the definition by
her anxiety to remedy the defection. The English woman who covets the
distinction of being well dressed buys her gowns in Paris; but, in so
doing, she improves, she does not alter, her style of costumes. She
gains in effectiveness without the sacrifice of individuality. But the
Spanish woman, though having something to gain by this Parisian
attachment, has something also to lose. She had her “velo”--her
coquettish adornment with its rose fastening, and her fan. With these,
which suited her Spanish face to perfection, she was characteristic,
fascinating, adorable; but French millinery demanded the renunciation of
the “velo,” and taught her to forget the witchery of the fan and the
grace of the natural rose; and artists, experts, even the ordinary,
impressionable Englishman without æsthetic tendencies, may be allowed a
regret for the decay of a national means to a beautiful end.
To me, a stroll through the thoroughfares of Madrid is a source of
never-ending pleasure. I delight in its wide, clean streets, its gay
squares each containing a garden, fountain, and statuettes, its crowded
cafes, its promenades, its spectacles, and its unending animation and
bustle and crowded life. The street _Alcalá_, which divides Madrid in
half, is magnificent in its proportions. The _Prado_, made enchanting
by its carriage drives and its avenues, filled with beautiful women, is
a panorama of which one cannot have a surfeit; while the people, and the
variety of life in the _Puerta del Sol_ is in itself a sight that shall
not be witnessed in any other city in Europe.
The _Puerta del Sol_ is the living room of Madrid. It is a mingling of
salon, promenade, theatre, academy, garden, a square-of-arms, and a
market. The Italian author, Edmondo De Amicis, was so fascinated with
its attractions, that during the first few days of his stay in Madrid,
he was unable to tear himself away from the spot. The change, the
colour, and the contrasts that it presents are admirably summed up in
his description of the crowd that from daybreak until one o’clock in the
morning throng this famous thoroughfare. Here gather the merchants, the
disengaged demagogues, the unemployed clerks, the aged pensioners, and
the elegant young men; here they traffic, talk politics, make love,
promenade, read the newspapers, hunt down their debtors, seek their
friends, prepare demonstrations against the Ministry, and weave the
gossip of the city. Upon the side-walks, which are wide enough to allow
four carriages to pass abreast, one has to use one’s elbows to force a
way. On a single paving-stone you see a civil guard, a match-vendor, a
broker, a beggar, and a soldier, all in one group. Crowds of students,
servants, generals, officials, peasants, _toreros_, and ladies pass;
importunate beggars ask for alms in your ear; cocottes question you with
their eyes; courtesans hit your elbow; on every side you see hats
lifted, hand-shakings, smiles, pleasant greetings, cries of “Largo” from
laden porters, and merchants with their wares hung from the neck; you
hear shouts of newspaper sellers, shrieks of water vendors, blasts of
the diligence horns, cracking of whips, clanking of sabres, strumming of
guitars, and songs of the blind.
[Illustration: THE “PUERTA DEL SOL,” FROM THE HOTEL DE PARIS, MADRID]
In this description, De Amicis does not omit a single one of the various
noises and incidents that are to be heard and seen in the _Puerta del
Sol_--indeed, the fault of his description is one of commission rather
than omission. For instance, I have never yet been elbowed there by a
woman, even by accident, who, to the evidence of the sense of sight, was
a courtesan. This fact leads me to the reflection that in two respects
Madrid is ahead of any European capital that I have visited--it neither
flaunts its vices, nor finds excuse for founding a total abstinence
movement. I have never seen there an intoxicated man or a representative
of what Rudyard Kipling has described as “the oldest profession in the
world.” I am not pretending that I believe Madrid to be entirely free
from this particular traffic--no city that has American, French, or even
English tourists on its visitors’ list could hope for that--but whatever
there is, is kept decently out of sight. Any grandmother may inspect the
photographs exhibited in the shops without a blush: and the volumes
which are exposed to view in the booksellers’ windows do not appeal to
the lower passions of the reading public, while as for “the curse of
drink,” Spain does not understand the meaning of the phrase. The
Spaniard is temperate by temperament, by custom and by heredity. The
climate of Spain is antagonistic to strong drink, and the Spanish
character revolts against the abuse of it. It would not be too much to
say that the Spaniard regards a drunken man with much the same feelings
as an Englishman looks upon the Spanish national sport of bull-fighting.
To anyone, other than the American on the make-haste, the _Puerta del
Sol_, the subject from which I have digressed, is a feature which
appeals irresistibly to the student of humanity. It is the centre where
all the great arteries of circulation meet and diverge, where the chief
pulse of Madrid life beats hardest, and the high tide of affairs flow
and ebb. Here are situated many of those huge, highly-decorated cafes
where the Madrilenians congregate to discuss politics, and settle the
affairs of the nation over good coffee and the most excellent chocolate;
here is the Home Office; and here, too, is the handsome _Hotel de
Paris_. Even this imposing and supremely comfortable hotel is not
without its detractor. The author of a book of jottings, which I came
across recently, wrote of it: “I did not particularly like the place,
and the manager and servants of the hotel did nothing to render our
visit agreeable.” From my knowledge of the hotel and its management, I
feel justified in stigmatising this expression as a gratuitous libel. A
more charming welcome, or more graceful attention, or more solid comfort
than I have invariably found at the _Hotel de Paris_, in Madrid, is not
to be obtained in any hostelry in Europe. It is on these grounds that
Sres. Baeza have built for the establishment they direct a reputation
equal to that of the Hotel Chatham, in Paris; the Carlton, in London;
the Hermitage, in Monte Carlo; and the Hotel Bristol, in Berlin. The
opinion I have quoted is that of a traveller who “had heard such
miserable accounts of Madrid” that he had “almost abandoned the idea of
going there at all;” and who, having been there, can apply to the
capital such adjectives as “cheerless,” “gloomy” and “depressing;” but
yet he cannot say that he “conceived any violent hatred to the city.” In
poll-parrotting the opinion of Theophile Gautier, which was expressed
nearly half a century ago, about a Madrid which is as different from the
capital of to-day as Madrid of to-day is, thank heaven! from Chicago,
this writer, doubtless, considers that he has earned a repute for
erudition and original observation surpassed only by that of Gautier
himself.
In the _Puerta del Sol_ is the _Imperial_ cafe, an immense hall,
comparable only in its size and the gaudiness of its decorations
[Illustration: THE BANK OF SPAIN, MADRID.]
with the _Fornos_ in the Street _Alcalá_, or the _Colon_, in Barcelona.
Long after the theatres and the handsome Opera House is closed, and the
hour of midnight is past, the city remains illuminated, the streets are
filled with carriages, and the cafes are just as crowded as at the
beginning of the evening. If you glance into the _Imperial_ before the
doors are open, or, as I was privileged to do, after the doors were
closed, you would marvel, as I did, that so vast a room should find
customers sufficient to fill it; yet, for the previous eight hours
without intermission, each table had possessed its complement of guests,
and every chair had been occupied. And, in addition to these mammoth
halls, there are innumerable others throughout the city in which a
hundred couples could dance easily. I have been told, and I see no
reason for doubting the statement, that enormous sums are quickly
amassed by the cafe proprietors in Madrid and Barcelona. For the huge
_Colon_ cafe in the latter city, the present tenant agreed to rebuild
the cafe and pay the sum of £12,000 for ten years occupation only. This
he did, and although only half the time of his tenure has expired, he
has made a fortune after deducting the cost of building.