TOLEDO.--VIEW OF THE CITY.--THE CATHEDRAL.--PROCESS OF
SMOKE-DRYING.--ALMANZA.--VALENCIA.--THE FONDA DE MADRID.--A
BENEVOLENT DOCTOR.--SPANISH MULETEERS.--HOW CONTROVERSIES ARE
SETTLED.
Oh! Toledo, imperial city, beloved of the old Goth, rich home of the
Moor and Jew,[18] and chosen throne of the Emperor of the West,[19] how
art thou fallen! And yet thy destiny has only been that which awaits
all cities, all nations. Still the old town has a proud and lofty
aspect on its rock-built seat, and though the splendours for which
it was once celebrated are now mouldering, it still looks down with
haughty glance on the feeble kingdom beneath, and its insolent modern
capital in the midst. A volume might well be devoted to the description
of Toledo, which is still magnificent even in ruins, and inexhaustible
in objects of interest; but as we mean to explore some of the regions
and cities of the warmer South, and even to extend our journey to the
Spanish islands of the Mediterranean, we may not indulge in more than
a passing glance at the crumbling walls, the falling palaces, and the
Oriental courts of the old metropolis of Spain.
A view of the city from any advantageous position in its neighbourhood
is very imposing. The venerable hue of antiquity is upon the whole
place; and there is not a street in which there are not buildings that
have been connected with important events in the history of Spain.
As seen from a distance, its sombre towers rising from the treeless
Vega[20] have a striking resemblance to a great fretted crown, such
as might have been worn by some old barbarian giant, while the green
fields through which the Tagus pursues its course appear like a green
velvet cushion on which the royal diadem reposes. As we approached
nearer we could judge more accurately of the height of the majestic
rock on which the town, like a great castle, is built. The streets are
generally steep and winding. Those of Moorish origin are very narrow,
and it is difficult to find one's way through them. Their narrowness
has this advantage, that it affords a protecting shadow from the
oppressive heat of the noonday sun. Some of the churches are splendid
specimens of Gothic architecture, though, from being towerless, they
are occasionally heavy in aspect. There are many fine examples of the
Mediæval and Saracenic styles, the graceful, airy-like character of the
latter having something peculiarly attractive in it. But the interest
of all we see attaches only to the past; the life of the city has
departed long ago; and we walk through its silent streets as in a dream.
The cathedral--one of the richest in the world--is of very ancient
origin; its foundation belonging to a period far back in the history of
Spain. Many are the changes which it has undergone in the revolutions
of the Peninsula. When the Moors conquered the city it was turned into
a mosque; when in 1085 Alphonzo V. recovered Toledo, it remained,
according to the king's promise, still devoted to the religious service
of the Moslem, until the Archbishop of Toledo in the following year
summarily destroyed all the insignia of Saracenic worship within it,
and it became again a temple of the Catholic faith. A century passed,
and St. Ferdinand levelled the edifice, which he felt was tainted with
an unclean spirit, to the ground. A new building was then conceived on
a magnificent plan; and after two hundred years' incessant labour the
present splendid edifice was completed.
The general effect of its exterior, though marred by the close
proximity of surrounding buildings, is exceedingly striking. Like
a magnificent jewel showing its great lustre at every turn of its
cutting, there is no point of view from which it cannot be seen to
advantage. The cupola is a work of great taste, and the open work of
the Muzarabic chapel is remarkably elegant. The stately portals, worthy
of the fane to which they give admission, are of the most elaborate
Gothic, and the grand _façade_, rich with ornament, is a work of
inexhaustible detail and wonderful finish. The open work of the parapet
is no less admirable. The three stories of the _façade_ may be said to
be densely peopled with magnificent statues, and the solitary belfry
tower, from which ascends an elegant spire, rising to the height of
330 feet above the gloomy and silent old streets below, is crowned by
a vast tiara encircling with its iron rays the great cross surmounting
the whole.
The interior of the cathedral is in every way worthy of the noble
aspect of the exterior. If even the idle stranger is struck with
sentiments of veneration when he surveys its noble proportions--its
lofty vaulted roof and its long aisles--what must be the feeling of the
worshipper who comes inspired by faith to pray in such a temple?
The coloured windows are works of high art, in perfect harmony with
the spirit and design of this noble cathedral. While we were examining
them, the organ suddenly pealed out its solemn tones, and we knew not
which most to admire--the thunder-like roll which at one moment filled
the building, or the silvery sweetness of the notes by which it was
followed. _Sic transit gloria mundi_; and truly, in such a place as
old Toledo, or in the older sepulchres of the past, in Rome or Thebes,
the heart of the passing pilgrim feels the weight of ages heavy upon
it. Life seems to move with a slower pace, and the reflective mind is
carried back to the dim eras of remotest history.
I like old cities; for there is no panorama of such grandeur as that
suggested by the sight of their ruins, when the mind can call up as in
a series of stately pictures those great events which have left their
stamp on all ages. And no country has a history richer than that of
Spain in grand and stirring incidents, or a more ample store of those
venerated memorials which tell the Spaniards of the present day what
their ancestors were.
How delicious it was, at night, to linger at the open casement of the
quaint old Toledan _fonda_, and look down upon the quiet streets of the
ancient city, watching the few passengers in them, while the moon shed
its silvery rays on the dark old buildings, and over the far plains
beyond. It was a beautiful autumn evening, and there came to us, borne
along on the soft air, a strain of distant music, wild, strange, and
melancholy, like the wailings of some forgotten dirge. It was a fit
requiem after the toils of the day, and with the strain in our ears
we went to bed and slept.
* * * * *
Now for Valencia and the blue Mediterranean, 306 miles distant. We
start an hour before sunset on our sixteen hours' journey. The whistle
screams, the train begins to move, everybody lights cigarettes. The
windows are all carefully pulled up, and away we glide, wondering how
long would be the process of drying, smoking, and curing the human
frame into the condition of a preserved Finnan haddock or bloater. Such
an atmosphere as that in which we were compelled to breathe sixteen
hours, we thought, ought to do it.
Immediately after we left Madrid, our old friends, those dear, flat,
uninteresting sandy plains with a few solitary olive-trees here and
there, again appeared. By the way, apropos of olives, we may here utter
a warning for travellers in this country. There are no half-and-half
measures with Spanish olives. They are charming, no doubt, to those who
are habitual eaters of them; but to such as are not, we can only say,
"God help them!"
We attempted, spite of the smoke, to enjoy a few hours' sleep during
the night, and were only awakened from a deep slumber on arriving in
the early morning at Almanza, a miserable place with a French _buffet_,
a Moorish castle, an historic reputation, and, thank goodness, some
fresh air. We got out and walked on the platform, still rather hazy
from our troubled slumbers, and found ourselves in the midst of a crowd
of eccentric-looking _rusticos_ dressed in breeches, jackets, carpets,
rags, and velvet hats. We approached a magnificent French gentleman at
the buffet, and received a cup of Spanish chocolate. By way of civility
we asked him, "What was the difference between the _Chocolat Menier_
and the chocolate they gave us here?" We received this answer, "None
whatever, monsieur, excepting that ours is much dearer."
Leaving this very recommendatory gentleman, we turned to study the
objects of local interest. Here, we thought, as well as everywhere
else in Spain, there must be some interesting antiquity, something to
remind us of the great men and mighty deeds of the past; and being of
an inquiring mind we soon discovered that it was near Almanza that the
army of Philip V., commanded by Berwick, gained a victory over the
troops of the Archduke of Austria in 1707.
We had made considerable progress, and were now about seventy miles
from our journey's end,
With the morning upon us so fresh and fair,
While a breeze sings soft through the ambient air,
People wonder to find it there,--
In a place so hot as Almanza.
About twenty miles beyond that place, as well as we could judge in
our rapid course, the vegetation began to improve, and the olives
appeared to have a fresher hue, a more vigorous growth. The country,
too, became more picturesque, diversified as it was occasionally by
rocky hills. We passed, also, what appeared to be deserted villages.
For a time, however, this part of the country could not be seen to
great advantage, as we had frequently to pass through dark tunnels and
deep cuttings. Here and there was an attempt at a vineyard or two, in
which the stunted shrubs seemed to grow with great difficulty among the
stones and sand. One village which we remarked, pitched on a mountain
slope, seemed to be the very place for a band of bandits. The gaps of
savage highlands were backed in the distance by purple lines of remote
scenery, pencilled, as it seemed, along the sky. The nakedness of the
hills was concealed by the pine trees with which their slopes were
covered.
The next place we reached was the old brown, tumble-down town of
Mogente, basking in a sunlit valley, where grow Indian corn and the
prickly pear. Low, whitewashed, terraced _cortijos_, or farm-houses,
are scattered upon the rocky slopes, while high over the vale topple
some broken towers of the ancient Moor. Onwards we went, across
ravines, dry watercourses, and long, straight, white roads, bordered
by stone-pines, the olive, and the mulberry. Country people of an
Arab-looking aspect, brown, red-sashed, and semi-nude, were jogging
along in the sun and dust on sturdy, gaily-dressed mules. Bold peaks,
topped with ruined castles, frequently appeared suspended above us as
we moved onwards at a rapid rate. The abundant vegetation afforded
evidence that we were now in the midst of a more luxuriant soil; while
from across the wide garden-like plains, distinguished by that long
dark line of sapphire in the distance, the breath of the Mediterranean
at length fell soothingly upon the brow.
As we drew towards our journey's end we passed several more towns, but
so rapidly that they seemed like the phantoms of a dream. We could
descry, however, their rich churches and spiring _campanarios_ nestling
amongst deep green bowers. At one point of our progress we observed
a long Moorish wall, with its ancient battlements, scaling in yellow
zig-zags the steep mountain's side, till it joined a fortress on the
summit. White tombs, shaded by mournful cypress, sometimes reminded us
of Eastern lands. In all directions the stately palm-tree waves aloft
its graceful plumage, and the orange first greets the eye, while lonely
convents are seen perched like eagles' eyries high on rocky summits,
looking down upon a paradise of brilliant green, and fruits of gold,
spread in the fertile vale below. The glowing plains, and the waving
lines of the light grey hills, are all lit up by sparkling villages,
silver streamlets, and the rays of the glorious sun. Onwards we speed
through groves of the feathering palm, with their grape-like clusters
of yellow dates, through bowers of deep green foliage, and through
corn and rice-fields. We dash rapidly through high walled Moorish
towns, with the palm-trees rising in their warm streets, in which
are reposing from their toil Bedouin-like figures; and over patches
of stony waste land, sown with great aloes and the Indian fig. On
one side are thick plantations of bamboo and cane, and on the other
gardens of lemons, melons, and rosy pomegranate. In fact, the approach
to Valencia, the Sultana of Spanish cities, is in Europe, perhaps,
well-nigh unrivalled. The curtain rises, as we have seen, upon stony
wastes and desert plains, and falls upon all that tropical vegetation
which is peculiar to the beauteous climate and rich soil of Eastern
Spain. This is the busiest part of the country; and besides the orange,
lemon, palm, cactus, and pomegranate, we find rice, flax, corn, pepper,
and tobacco growing in wild luxuriance, until the white gates of
Valencia open to receive us.
On descending from the train, near the beautiful classic circle of the
_Plaza de los Toros_, we jumped into a _Tartana_[21]--a wonderful black
vehicle, hooded over, like a gondola on wheels, or a cart in which
they carry away the dead in time of plague--and on we rattled, trying
very hard to look as if we enjoyed the peculiar sensation produced by
the absence of springs. The pavement resembled nothing on earth, unless
it were the roadway of Regent Street as it might appear strewn with
stones from a druidical circle. It was perfectly useless attempting to
smoke, for the cigarette was just as likely to enter the eye or the ear
as the mouth. Thus we jolted and bumped on through cool lofty streets,
so narrow that the rays of the sun, save for one hour of the day, can
never visit their depths. Here we were again in a thoroughly Spanish
town. The houses were painted in brilliant colours, pink, blue, green,
and red, and there were numerous balconies, from which blinds, and
mats, and carpets, of every hue, were drooping.
On we jolted, swinging round sharp angles, bringing quaint old houses
of ancient grandees into sudden view before us, and ever and anon
coming upon noble churches, sculptured over with wondrous devices up
to the topmost towers, that reeled with the clang of bells. Again we
dived sharply into a labyrinth of dark narrow alleys, swarming with
busy crowds, with all the goods and wares half out into the street,
and filling the dilapidated balconies--a scene of life and bustle
which nothing can rival, save the bazaars of Smyrna or Stamboul. With
a fearful bump we swung round a church corner in the bright, gay, open
sunlight into squares whose spacious mansions look down upon gardens
of palms, trumpet-flowers, aloes, acacias, and oleanders, all watered
by the spray from marble fountains, springing up high in the midst. In
a few minutes, however, we were down again into a narrow, picturesque,
and dirty _calle_, filled with priests with shovel-hats, Murillo-like
urchins, all rags and grins, gaudy mules, and men dressed in breeches,
sash, and broad velvet _sombreros_, with long coloured _mantas_ thrown
gracefully across their shoulders; while, high above, the opposite
eaves of the dark wooden houses nearly meet, exhibiting between them
only a long band of deep blue sky.
Rattling on, we burst once more into a wide, busy market-place, with
town-hall, tower, and church, all elaborately sculptured, and with
low, dark arcades burrowing beneath the houses. The open space was gay
with the coloured awnings of merchants' stalls, and alive with buyers
and sellers. The hum of many voices and the cries of water-carriers
were heard all around us. In a word, the market-scene from Masaniello
was before us. Here were piles of magnificent fruit and vegetables from
the fertile _campana_ around the city; there vast heaps of oranges
and melons, with great bunches of yellow dates and purple grapes,
were heaped upon the ground. Fish from the near Mediterranean were
exposed for sale, and assortments of large earthen vases, made in the
neighbourhood, were still hardening in the sun. We saw on all sides
groups of stately long-eyed women, glancing out from beneath the shade
of the mantilla, with classic features and luxuriant blue-black hair;
others, robed in dresses of fantastic dye, pressing naked brown infants
to the breast as they talked and sold at their stalls. Whole caravans,
drawn by large mules dressed in trappings, and tinkling with bells,
stalked past us; and strong oxen, yoked together by the head, drawing
heavily-laden carts by the sheer force of their necks and horns alone,
made their way slowly over the place, while some semi-wild dogs
snatched at their heels as they were disturbed during their bask in
the sun. There was the trim, upright _torero_[22] with shaved lip and
short crisp whiskers, dressed in his every-day suit of braided jacket,
red sash, tight trouser, pigtail, and velvet hat, while the swinging
forms of the mountaineer in his goat-skin, and of the stalwart peasant,
with his coloured _manta_ sweeping from his shoulder, and his feet in
sandals, passed through the midst. The everlasting _cigarillo_ was
smoking from their lips, and the gaudy kerchief hung down upon their
necks from beneath the black velvet bonnet.
Beautiful fountains grace the streets, and rows of acacias wave like
feathers in the breeze. Nothing, in fact, can be conceived more
picturesque than the narrow streets, with church and palace, with
coloured houses, with balconies and banner-like awnings; nothing more
calm than the climate, nothing more brilliant than the ever-changing
scenes in the _plazas_, nothing more interesting than the motley
cigarette-smoking crowds, so different from the dingy mob of a London
street; finally, nothing more Spanish than the entire picture.
We landed at the _Fonda de Madrid_, where we intended to take up our
quarters; but before ascending the spacious marble stairs we found
it necessary to make way for a troop of blind beggars who were being
conducted down step by step by their friends. These poor creatures
were suffering from the local disease of ophthalmia, and the cause
of their assemblage on the present occasion was, that once a week a
good doctor holds a levee in the hotel for the gratuitous treatment of
their malady, _para caridad y para el amor de Dios_. Such disinterested
benevolence, which is by no means uncommon among medical men in all
countries, is very praiseworthy; but at the same time we are bound to
confess that the sights which are sometimes brought under our eyes on
such occasions are far from agreeable to casual tourists.
The train by which we had arrived was--considering that it was one of
the _cosas de España_--naturally late. We had been altogether eighteen
hours on the journey from Madrid. However, before breaking our fast,
in fact immediately on our arrival at the _fonda_ at Valencia, we
naturally asked for the sea. "Three miles off at the port of El
Grao,"[23] was the answer. Here, _acqui, tout de suite, una tartana_,
look sharp! and we were immediately rushing through the streets, and
out of the city into the long yellow roads, with the sand and dust
up to the axle of the two-wheeled gondola, in quest of our bath. We
passed over a splendid bridge, spanning the waterless river Turia or
Guadalaviar, and commanding a splendid view of Valencia, with all its
coloured spires and domes resting against the spotless sky. We were
driven through a long avenue of acacias and palms until, as we were
going due east, we were naturally brought up by the sea. "A boat, a
boat,"--_batel_, _batel!_ we exclaimed; and in answer to our summons,
about twenty almost naked fishermen with red rags round their loins
immediately pulled to shore, like a swarm of minnows attracted by a
piece of bread; but although we wanted a _batel_, we had no desire
to fight. However, in a few minutes we were stripped and swimming
away merrily on the buoyant wave, so deep, clear, and blue; inhaling
health, strength, and delight at every stroke. The rugged outlines of
the lofty mountains of the Spanish coast were gradually fading from
sight in the morning haze, while, afar off, as we lay motionless on
our backs floating on the calm surface of the sea, the eye caught the
distant gleam of the long sail of many a felucca, softly pink in the
reflection of the morning's glow.
Ah! those careless days, snatched from the serious toil of our
existence, they come not again. Those sunny holidays which we enjoyed
in the society of friendship, how happy, though few, they were, and
how delightful it is to recall them to memory! They come but rarely,
and at distant intervals, but for that reason they are only the more
delightful. They pass quickly, but their memory is as green as ever,
and in calling to mind our various wanderings, we feel almost as
delighted as we actually did when our footsteps ranged at freedom in
a strange land and under a foreign sky. Well may the desponding poet
sing:--
"Count o'er the joys thy life hath seen,
Count o'er the days from anguish free,
And know whatever thou hast been,
'Tis something better--not to be."
Back again then we turned, through the acacias, the palms, the glare
and the dust, and over the old bridge with its statues, spanning the
waterless river. We passed the grim old fortress-gates of other days,
and walls topped with mouldering battlements, standing up before
the nineteenth century to verify the former strength of the Moorish
conqueror. We again went through the perfumed gardens and wide white
_plazas_, all glowing in the sun; the dim labyrinthine streets once
more received us; and, stumbling out from the black plague-cart, we
were soon within the beggar-haunted _fonda_. Here we discussed a
meal, consisting of enormous prawns, like reptiles swimming in oil,
and of red chocolate, sweetened with mare's milk and cinnamon. But as
the proverb says, "the jaw of man brought all evil into the world,"
we suppose, therefore, it is meet that it should suffer occasional
retribution; and sure enough it _will_ suffer it among some of those
_cosas de España_ which have no resemblance to those of any other
country.
To turn out into the streets of a foreign town--the more foreign the
better--is a great delight; to go forth alone and see where fate will
lead us, and to wander and meditate, undisturbed by cackling guide,
who, with the spirit of plagiarism which is characteristic of his race,
waits until we have informed him of some historic fact, and then tells
it back again in half-an-hour as his own information. Follow us then,
gentle reader, and bear with the eccentric "order of our going," and
in your amiability, favour us by remembering that that which may seem
disorder to some is with others a law of their nature which they must
obey. So we pray
"Whoe'er thou art that read'st this errant book,
Slight it not for its method, so as to
Reject it; but into it we pray thee look;
It may meet with thine heart before thou go."[24]
Out again into the hot, bright squares, and then into the old Gothic
cathedral, where we found ourselves in comparative darkness, in the
enjoyment of a very agreeable coolness. This ancient ecclesiastical
structure is built on the remains of a Moorish mosque which had itself
arisen from the ruins of Roman temples. How agreeable was the contrast
between the hot, garish day without, and the dim, religious light of
the old church, with its mysterious incense-laden atmosphere, gemmed
with a hundred twinkling lights, and traversed by brilliant rays from
the coloured windows, rays which fell in various hues upon the marble
statues standing ghost-like against the venerable walls, and lighting
up the lofty spears of brazen screening until they seemed like fiery
arrows shot up from the world beneath by some unmeasured bow. Such
was the spirit of the place, that I felt as if I could have joined
in the devotion of the shrouded figures who were kneeling silent and
still upon the marble pavement, while every thought seemed to rise
heavenward with the noble strains of the organ. We emerged again into
the heat and blaze of the crowded streets, through which troops of
dusty soldiery were threading their way, and in which the blare of
martial music was mingled with the clash of the church's bells. We
found our way into a stately market-place, in the midst of the bustle
of which we got entangled in a procession of the Virgin. As it was
quite a characteristic scene, we thought it worth looking at, even
though the delay cost us a few moments. A little boy in scarlet drawers
and embroidered shirt led the way, making a hideous noise on a drum.
He was followed by four seedy-looking gentlemen with vacant faces, and
without hats, dressed in respectable every-day suits of black, bearing
long, lighted candles. Next, making unnatural strides, and tricked out
in muslin and tinfoil,--like "My Lady" of the sweeps on the first of
May,--came two unfortunate little girls of about twelve years of age,
carrying trays of rose-leaves. These poor children, from this unwonted
exercise, seemed very puffy and red in the face. Then came the _pièce
de résistance_ of the entertainment. Four ragged peasants in goat's
skin and sandals bore along on their shoulders a palanquin, or rather
a piece of an old wooden door, which supported a great wax doll, whose
cheeks were of the deepest vermilion, with a tin hat or crown on its
head, and a piece of ordinary Manchester coloured cotton kerchief tied
by a string round its waist. The procession was closed by several
men bearing flags, and by a band of music, the members of which, in
the uniform of old soldiers, produced with their instruments music
so original in its character that I am unable to give the reader any
conception of it. The band, as usual everywhere else, was surrounded
and followed by a large crowd of idlers, of chattering old women,
dark-eyed maidens, and yelling urchins, who, notwithstanding their
appreciation of the strains which they heard, lost no opportunity of
performing various practical jokes upon the public generally. Knots of
men, with skins burnt to the darkest brown hue, and clad in striped
mantles, velvet sombreros, and sashes, with their legs bandaged, and
their feet in apostolic-looking sandals, were sauntering in the street,
followed by some stray dogs and a loose mule or two. Anything like the
noise they all made as they threaded their passage through the crowd,
cannot be conceived. Their incessant chattering somewhat resembled that
heard in the parrot-house of our Zoological Gardens.
In the province of Valencia, if we may believe their statistical
authorities, there is an average of six hundred murders per annum. And
the judicial mind of the Valencians is very amenable to lenity towards
the accused, under the softening influence of Spanish money equal in
amount to about three pounds sterling. The value of human life does not
appear to be estimated very highly by the masses, and it is frequently
sacrificed on very slight occasions. A few words at a tavern, a little
heat in argument, or a slight difference of opinion, will generally
end in one of the disputants finding six inches of cold steel entering
his vitals in some unsuspecting moment. A sharp knife is found to be
a very decisive method of settling all controversies, whatever may be
their nature. These knives, which are sold in the shops avowedly for
the purpose for which they are used, are very formidable instruments,
with blades from three inches to a foot and a half in length, and with
this inscription engraved thereon, "Soi sola para defender el onor."
However, after our own Todmorton heroes, and young gentlemen who pass
their time in pursuit of science by dissecting little children in woods
and carrying about their eyes in their pockets, we cannot well blame
the Spaniards for endeavouring, in the indulgence of such little social
amenities, to keep up in the race with other civilised nations.
FOOTNOTES:
[18] Called Toledoth by the Jew, who shared its riches with the Moor.
[19] Charles V.
[20] The Vega, now a desert, was once a perfect forest of palms and
mulberry trees.
[21] Derived possibly from the Russian "Tarantass," or springless
carriage.
[22] Bull-fighter.
[23] El Grao. Grado, grades,--steps to the sea.
[24] Bunyan.
[Illustration: [++] Decorative Image]