a myriad points and aiguilles clustering in groups of pinnacles tapering
like the fingers of a man’s hand; further, a whole multitude of rocky
excrescences which have been and can be equally compared to rough-hewn
chessmen in battle array, or to chessmen strewn carelessly over the
board, some standing up sharp and erect, some fallen prostrate and
broken. The grand rugged scenery is softened and toned down by a most
wonderful profusion of vegetation, consisting of box, ilex, myrtle, ivy,
heather, laurel, and other evergreens; which, growing in every crack and
crevice where they can possibly find a hold, and flourishing at all
seasons, transform this mountain into a marvel of grey and green.
The walk from the Monastery to the summit occupies about three hours,
and is one of the most remarkable to be found in Europe. The path is
narrow, but it has been planned with consummate artistic skill. It winds
over a broad area among and around the various crags and stone _seracs_,
onwards and ever upwards until it ends, at last, at the highest point.
Sometimes it leads through a narrow valley walled in on both sides by
wild sentinels of rock, again through creeping masses of myrtle, ivy,
and jessamine, or under bowers of ilex and box. And then, suddenly,
unexpectedly, you have attained to the apparently inaccessible summit,
and you stand on the brink of precipices and overlook Monserrat spread
out beneath like an enormous Medusa, its thousands of tentacles raised
aloft on every side, enclosing deep abysses whose terribleness is
mitigated by a lining of perpetual green. Beyond lies the sun-backed,
flowerless plain, through which silver rivers turn and return on their
journey to the sea. To the north, distant but clearly defined against
the blue background of sky, a line of snowy Pyrenees smile coolness down
upon the torrid lowlands; while to the east, beyond the hazy suggestion
of Barcelona, a glittering silver rim of sea wafts inland the softest of
noonday breezes.
On the East Coast.
[Illustration: THE AQUEDUCT, TARRAGONA.]
Monserrat, according to the guide books, may be hurriedly visited from
Barcelona by means of a return ticket for the day; but one can imagine
few persons who would be content with so hasty an inspection of one of
the most remarkable sights in Spain. One returns from the mountain to
Barcelona with one’s mind crowded with wonderful sights, and one’s
senses stirred with a new idea of the beautiful. Where shall one look,
one asks oneself, for its equal? But Spain is full of spots of almost
dazzling beauty. Within a hundred miles to the southward, following the
coast-line, is situated Tarragona. To know Tarragona is to love her, for
her natural self first, her oak forests, soft verdure and park-like
land, then for her treasures of infinitely beautiful architectural work;
and again for her simple kindness and good fellowship, her gorgeous
colouring, her brilliant sky, her gorgeous sunsets, and her outlook over
the long sweep of rich country, rock-bound coast and glinting sea. Here
is another of Spain’s many abodes of loveliness--a paradise of
far-reaching plains, dotted with villages and homesteads, coloured with
rich gardens, orange-groves and vineyards, and shaded by a rich fringe
of olive and fir trees, that lose themselves against the distant rich
brown hills. And on the other side the fertile plain slopes gently down
to the ancient pine woods, beyond which lie the fringe of yellow sands
and dark green ocean.
Tarragona has her records too, and a history among the most ancient in
the kingdom. She once boasted her million of inhabitants, her
government, her luxury, and her art. The Phœnicians made the town a
maritime settlement, the Romans made it an imperial city, the Goths
selected it as their capital. The Moors “made of the city a heap,” and
the ruins remained uninhabited for four centuries. She can point to her
grand Cyclopean walls and gateways, her Phœnician well, her so-called
“tomb” of the Scipio, her amphitheatre, her Capital, and her Roman
aqueduct striding across the valley, and seemingly defying time to
destroy it.
[Illustration: GENERAL VIEW, TARRAGONA.]
[Illustration: THE ROMAN THEATRE, SAGUNTO.]
But if Tarragona’s one-time million inhabitants has dwindled to its
present population of some thirty thousand souls, it must always be
remembered, to its credit, that a few years ago it was only a dull, dry,
sleepy old town--a place of dusty meats and sour wines--a temple of the
past. But Tarragona has no intention of resting satisfied with a great
yesterday; she is intent upon making a future for herself. The new has
overridden the old, the town has put away its look of despairing
incongruity and uselessness, and has put on the “handsomeness” of modern
cityhood. The streets palpitate with the life of commerce; and the
harbour shelters many ships that call for cargoes of wine, nuts, almonds
and oil. Most of the native wines are excellent, and can compare with
those grown in any part of Spain; but they are put, unfortunately, to
base uses, and scarcely ever reach the consumer in their pure state.
The lighter vintages are bought by Marseilles and Paris, where they are
transformed into _vin ordinaire_, while the full-bodied varieties, known
as “Spanish Reds,” are sold in England and America under the name of
port.
The road from Tarragona to Valencia runs over the richly fruitful plain
that is bordered on the left by great brown hills, and the lovely sea
upon the right. In the Tortosa region, only the presence of the olives
and _algarrobos_, instead of oaks and elms amid the soft green
prettiness of the landscape, forbids the delusion that one is in Sussex
or Devonshire.
[Illustration: GENERAL VIEW, TORTOSA.]
The famous marble, known in Italy as _broceatello de spagna_, and
largely employed in the decoration of churches in Rome, is quarried near
Tortosa, and the city itself has its place in song and story. Tubal,
Hercules, and St. Paul, according to Martorel, were all connected with
Tortosa; and the latter is further stated to have instituted Monseñor
Ruf as bishop here. Under the Moors the place became the key of the east
coast, and from time immemorial it has been acquainted with warfare and
the clash of arms. It withstood the siege of Louis de Débonnaire, son of
Charlmagne, in 811, but two years later the city fell and had to be
recaptured by the Moors. Since then it has been four times besieged and
thrice taken; to-day it is chiefly noted for its imposing appearance,
its fine Gothic cathedral, and its picturesque bridge of boats.
Sixty-five miles to the southward is Castellon, which, though a
flourishing place in a garden of plenty, is of only Moorish origin, and
consequently an infant among the towns of Spain. Naturalists make it
their headquarters; and it is the junction for the copper, cinnabar, and
lead mines that abound at Espadeno.
[Illustration: WINDING OF THE HIGH ROAD ON CUERVO MOUNTAIN, CASTELLON.]
A stop must be made at Murviedro, which flourished under its old title
of Sanguntum. Then it was a seaport city of magnificence, richness and
power; to-day it consists of a wild bare hill, studded with white
houses, traversed by long lines of wall and crowned by an old castle.
Two thousand years ago it was laid in ruins by the Carthagenian army,
and it has been little else than a heap of ruins ever since. The Roman
Theatre, which still remains, is placed in a bend of the northern skirt
of the hill between the town and the immense fortress which crowns the
mountain. It has seats built of blue limestone and
[Illustration: ST. CATHERINE’S SQUARE AND TOWER, VALENCIA.]
cement, petrified by the action of the centuries which have elapsed
since it was built, which, according to the most authoritative opinion,
was in the first century of our era. The stage, which measures about 165
feet in length and 19½ feet in width, was vaulted, some of the vaults
being still in existence. The
[Illustration: GENERAL VIEW, VALENCIA.]
amphitheatre was composed of three series or groups of steps separated
by wider ones which served for landings. A spacious portico ran round
with small columns, statues, and a triple row of seats. At present the
theatre is surrounded by a wall which prevents it from falling entirely
to ruin, a consummation which would be due more to the vandalism of men
than to the ravages of time.
The population of Valencia, the third city in Spain, which according to
the last census was 150,000, makes this an important centre, but it is
not an outwardly picturesque city. This is due to the flatness of the
country, which prevents a good view of its buildings, as well as to the
luxuriant vegetation which, surrounding the town on all sides, hides
from the observer.
[Illustration: THE EXCHANGE, VALENCIA.]
Valencia has little to boast in the way of archæological prizes. Her old
churches and palaces, her _tapia_ walls and massive gates, with most of
her ancient monuments, are gone; and only a few beautiful bits--the late
Gothic Lonja, the octagonal _Miguelete_ belfry-tower, and some odd
portions of the cathedral--remain. The very beautiful Lonja (Exchange),
the ornamentation of which is characteristic of the Renaissance, is
situated in the large Market square. The Lonja comprises the handsome
Hall of Trade, the Watch Tower, on the ground floor of which is the
chapel, and the Pavilion of the Consulado de Mar, which was previously
used for offices and as a commercial hall. Extensive restoration work
has recently been carried out in the building, which has suffered great
mutilations. The Silk Exchange, besides being a market for this article,
contains the commercial bourse, the municipal courts and other
government offices. But if the city has swept herself almost clean of
her precious art relics, she has assumed an air of modern alertness, and
developed a commendable intention to move with the times. The
improvements being carried out in the city of the Cid have almost
entirely transformed Santa Catalina Square. Both the Santa Catalina and
the Rhein Square near by, in the heart of the city, contain magnificent
buildings, luxurious cafés, and all kinds of shops. There is a vast
amount of bright life and gorgeous colouring in the streets and market
places, with a quite Catalan forcefulness of character. The Valenciana
is, moreover, a progressive and very excitable individual, and he
imparts a special charm of fervour into all his affairs. On the
occasions of their feasts and sports, the varied costumes of the lower
classes--especially that of the huerta man, or peasant from the
garden--may be seen in perfection. With his brilliantly-coloured _manta_
thrown loosely over a white linen shirt and black velveteen jacket, and
with a bright kerchief knotted round his head, he is perhaps the
best-dressed individual in the whole Peninsula, and he looks as if he
thought so into the bargain.
[Illustration: A VALENCIANA.]
A Peep into Murcia.
[Illustration: THE ESPLANADE, ALICANTE.]
There are some parts of Spain over which I have travelled as the long
hand travels round a clock dial--without haste, but without stopping. I
have seen Murcia, as it were, from a moving platform, and the impression
I derived of “African Spain,” as this quarter of the country has been
called, has left me with the desire to return and spend a round of
months amid its floral enchantments. This little province was the spot
cherished by the Carthagenians, who found consolation in its possession
for the loss of Sicily, and from it they derived the mineral wealth
which enabled Hannibal to make war against Rome itself. The Goths of
Murcia held their territory so stoutly against the Moors that during the
lifetime of the warlike Theodimah the province was allowed to retain its
independence. Under the Moors, Murcia was transformed into one
continuous _huerta_ or garden; and after the disruption of the Kalifate
of the Ummeyahs, it held its own as an independent State from 1038 to
1091, when internal dissensions among the members of the ruling
Beni-Tahar family prepared the way for the triumph of the Spaniards. But
to this day Murcia is regarded by the Spaniards as the Bœotia of the
south.
[Illustration: ESPLANADE AND WHARF, ALICANTE.]
At Alicante I spent four-and-twenty hours, but half as many weeks would
not exhaust its attractions. I saw the ruined Castle of San Fernando
from a distance, and made the acquaintance of the Castle of Santa
Bárbara only from the outside. I perambulated the palm-shaded Paseo de
los Martires, and the well-paved and capacious harbour, where the work
of exporting minerals from Almagra and other places was going forward.
There is always an air of bustling activity about the wharf,
[Illustration: TRINITY BRIDGE.]
[Illustration: GLORIETA FOUNTAIN.]
[Illustration: THE MEDITERRANEAN SHORE.]
[Illustration: BEACHING THE BOATS.]
which is alive with small wagons, roofed over by a cover of heavy
matting, made of _esparto_ grass. Esparto, which resembles the
spear-grass that flourishes on the sandy sea-shores of Lancashire, grows
wild in vast quantities in this district. It is very wiry and tenacious
in fibre, and is worked up by the natives into an infinite variety of
purposes--such as matting, baskets, soles of sandals, &c. It is also
largely exported to England, France, and the United States. It is the
best substitute for rags in the manufacture of paper, and between 80,000
and 100,000 tons are annually imported into this country for that
purpose. The Iberian whips, described by Horace, were manufactured of
this material. The women and children are largely employed in the hand
manufacture of _esparto_, and in the silkworm-gut industry, of which
Murcia is the centre in this part of Spain.
[Illustration: THE “MARTYR’S” PROMENADE, ALICANTE.]
The huerta, or garden of Alicante, is situated at some two or three
miles from the town to the north, and is irrigated from the artificial
_Pantano de Tibi_, of Moorish constructure. It is an oasis in a
wilderness of sand and dust. The fields that surround this garden are
parched and dry; the almond and fig trees that line the road are coated
with dust that clings to them like thin snow, and the almond nuts
resemble plaster imitations of themselves. And in the midst of this
blistered country nestles the luscious _huerta_--a wide stretch of
verdant plantations, thickly foliaged, cool, sweet, and refreshing, with
villas embowered among its oranges and palms, a film of dim mountains in
the background, and away to the south the silent brimming sea.
[Illustration: THE “MARTYR’S” PROMENADE, ALICANTE.]
I received an invitation to inspect the tobacco factory in the northern
suburb, and listened to enthusiastic descriptions of the beauty of many
of the 6,000 girls employed there; but my time was limited, and I was
compelled to postpone the pleasure of a visit.
From Alicante, past Elche to Murcia, lies a tract of African Spain--a
vast plain covered with plantations of orange, lemon, pomegranate, fig
and olive, among which scattered palms lift their broad heads with
stately pride. At intervals, small towns, very Oriental in appearance,
with domed, azure-tiled mosques, nestle among the palms, and add to the
attractiveness of a scene of enthralling beauty. “Why is this lovely
corner of the world so little known?” wrote a German enthusiast; and his
question has been capped by the more prosaic cyclist, who asked: “Why
are the people of these towns so rude and annoying, and why do the
children favour us with a shower of stones?” One has not to ponder long
in order to solve the cyclist’s problem. Cycles are as rarely seen in
Murcia as bears in Bloomsbury, and it is scarcely surprising in the
circumstances if the indefatigable wheelist is regarded with many
wondering and sarcastic stares. But the peasant children in Spain, and
especially in Southern
[Illustration: THE “MARTYR’S” PROMENADE (HIGH ROAD), ALICANTE.]
Spain, are, as a rule, chartered libertines. Until they are old enough
to make themselves useful they are quite spoiled. On the assumption that
children can do no wrong, they are permitted to do exactly what they
please. The girls amuse themselves with singing and dancing, and the
boys, in Southern Spain especially, find a favourite diversion in
imitating the perils of the bull ring. Amongst themselves they are, even
in argument, punctiliously polite; with the inoffensive stranger they
are wary and not disobliging; but to the peripatetic oddity they are
annoying in the manner that boys, given the same provocation, display
all the world over.
[Illustration: VIEW OF ELCHE, ALICANTE.]
Elche, rising from among its thousands of date-palms to a height of
fifty feet, resembles an oasis in the desert. All around, the country is
flat and fertile--a slumberland of soft greens and unbroken
peacefulness. From Elche one passes to Granja, with its double-towered
Moorish church, its old castillo clinging to the frowning height, its
houses built into the rock of the mountain, and overgrown with aloes,
fig, and cacti. There are Calossa de Segura and Albatera, flat-roofed
and minareted; and from these spots may be seen the Montaña de Calossa,
where amethyst steeps, glowing in the afternoon light, contrast with the
varied tints of the plain in an ensemble of colour and outline nowhere
surpassed in effect.
Carthagena, one of the three arsenals of Spain, and the largest
[Illustration: GENERAL VIEW, CARTHAGENA.]
port in the country after Vigo, lies to the south. From here is shipped
the silver and lead ores, iron ores, manganiferous iron ores, calamine,
blend and copper ores from the rich mines in the surrounding districts,
and also from the mines of the interior. In the suburbs of Sta. Lucia
are extensive lead smelting and desilverization works, and the goods
terminus of the steam tramway which connects Carthagena with La Union,
the centre of the mining district. Escombreras, on a bay just outside
the harbour, was at one time an important smelting and shipping place,
but at the present time only one large furnace is open there. The
country around Carthagena has been so wastefully denuded of forest as to
make it an unmitigated desert. The landscape is a barren, burning waste,
and the city itself is destitute of any semblance of greenness.
Carthagena, which is considered impregnable to a foreign foe, was
besieged by the Government soldiery in 1873, when a Commune was
established there by Roque Barcia. A very little artillery practice
directed against the walls, however, impressed Barcia with the
advisability of taking a trip to Africa, and the Commune was at an end.
There is an academy for cadets in the place, and blind people are
numerous--a fact which may be owing to the excessive dazzle of the
sunlight and absence of verdure. The men of Carthagena are so big, and
the donkeys are so minute, that the latter are almost hidden beneath
their human burdens.
[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO THE STATION, ELCHE.]
The Moorish city of Murcia, the capital of its province, is a
picturesque town in a beautiful setting. The city is one magnificent
mass of varied colours, and all around, as far as the eye can see, are
rare tropical shrubs and wide vistas of luxurious vegetation. Murcia is
the land of roses--the Mecca of the floriculturist--the Canaan of the
tribe of Art. I did not see its Gothic Cathedral, its picture gallery,
nor its churches of Sta. Catalina or San Nicolas--I was there and away
again, carrying
[Illustration: A NATIVE OF MURCIA.]
with me an impression of sunshine, and roses, and soft airs. The country
is intersected with swiftly flowing brooks, that part in and out beneath
the tall palms. Here the dark-complexioned and Oriental-looking Murcian
washerwomen, dressed in brightly-coloured garments, assemble to follow
their daily avocations; and the chatter, the laughter, and the brilliant
hues of the many shawls are a perpetual delight to the ear and the eye.
The men have the reputation of being the most ill-disposed and
revengeful of any in Spain. The only indication I could discover of
abnormal belligerency about them was in their practice of carrying the
long Albacete knife; but I am inclined to the opinion that it is worn
more for ornament than use. The teamsters, it is true, have a fierce
aspect, and their manners are not improved by strong drink; but I have
never met teamsters
[Illustration: A TARTAÑA, VALENCIA.]
[Illustration: THE HARVEST CART, MURCIA.]
[Illustration: A NOON-TIME HALT, MURCIA.]
[Illustration: A CARTLOAD OF TINAJAS, MURCIA.]
in any part of the globe who were celebrated for remarkable sobriety, or
angelic dispositions. The Murcian girls, as the traveller will observe
at the various railway stations where they sell flowers and sweets, are
pretty and engaging, and their costumes are charmingly picturesque.
The present city was built by the Moors from the remains of the Roman
_Murgi_ in the early part of the 8th century. It was taken by the
Spaniards under St. Ferdinand in 1240, and was reconquered by Alonso el
Sabio, who left his heart and bowels to the Dean and Chapter; and these
precious relics, preserved in a sarcophagus, are still to be seen in the
Presbytery of the Gothic Cathedral.
[Illustration: A NATIVE OF MURCIA.]
From the palm-land of Murcia one passes over the unvarying, toneless
plains of La Mancha to the Sierra Morena mountains, and beyond them to
the daisy and buttercup-spread fields of Andalucia, which stretch away
to the south, and lose themselves in a wide perspective, bounded by
gold-shot undulating hills. The road runs down long slopes of flaming
poppies, and beside gardens of blooming wild roses, amid extremes of
perfectly-blended colour, to Bailen and Jaén, and the snow-crowned
Sierra Nevada which surrounds Granada. Bailen is famous only as being
the scene of the battle in which the French, under Duport, were defeated
by the Spanish forces led by Castaños. Jaén, or _Gien_, the Arab word
for fertility, is delightfully situated amid a jumble of mountains which
are covered with luxuriant vegetation. Under the Moors it was a petty
independent kingdom; but its ancient walls and its castle, which stands
like a sentinel commanding the gorge of the mountain approach from
Granada, have been almost entirely destroyed, and its own formidable
bulwarks are reduced to a single gate. Jaén, like Baeza, surrendered to
the victorious St. Ferdinand in the XIIIth century, and the two towns
conjointly form the see of a Bishop.
Toledo and Cordova.
[Illustration: CHURCH OF SANTA MARIA DE LA BLANCA, TOLEDO.]