Madrid has in fact already experienced threatening symptoms of the

insecurity of this feudal tenure, as it were, in virtue of which it

enjoys the supreme rank. Having no claim to superiority derived from its

commerce, the fertility of its territory, the facility of its means of

communication and intercourse with the other parts of the kingdom or

with foreign states,--nothing, in fact, but its commanding and central

position, and the comparatively recent choice made of it by the

sovereigns for a residence; it has seen itself rivalled, and at length

surpassed in wealth and enterprize, by Barcelona, and its right to be

continued as the seat of government questioned and attacked. Its fall is

probably imminent, should some remedy not be applied before the

intermittent revolutionary fever, which has taken possession of the

country, makes further advances, or puts on chronic symptoms; but its

fate will be shared by the power to which it owes its creation. No

residence in Europe bears a prouder and more monarchical aspect than

Madrid, nor is better suited for the abode of the feudal pomp and

etiquette of the most magnificent--in its day--of European courts: but

riding and country sports have crossed the Channel, and are

endeavouring to take root in France; fresco-painting has invaded

England; in Sicily marble porticoes have been painted to imitate red

bricks; and a Constitutional monarchy is being erected in Spain.

Spaniards are not imitators, and cannot change their nature, although

red bricks should become the materials of Italian _palazzi_, Frenchmen

ride after fox-hounds, and Englishmen be metamorphosed to Michael

Angelos. The Alcazar of Madrid, commanding from its windows thirty miles

of royal domains, including the Escorial and several other royal

residences, is not destined to become the abode of a monarch paid to

receive directions from a loquacious and corrupt house of deputies,--the

utmost result to be obtained from forcing on states a form of government

unsuited to their character. If the Spanish reigning family, after

having settled their quarrel with regard to the succession, (if ever

they do so,) are compelled to accept a (so-called) Constitutional form

of government, with their knowledge of the impossibility of its

successful operation, they will probably endeavour, in imitation of the

highly gifted sovereign of their neighbours, to stifle it, and to

administrate in spite of it; until, either wanting the talent and energy

necessary for the maintenance of this false position, or their subjects,

as may be expected, getting impatient at finding themselves mystified,

a total overthrow will terminate the experiment.

I am aware of the criticism to which this opinion would be exposed in

many quarters; I already hear the contemptuous upbraidings, similar to

those with which the "exquisite," exulting in an unexceptionable

wardrobe, lashes the culprit whose shoulders are guilty of a coat of the

previous year's fashion. We are told that the tendency of minds, the

progress of intellect, the spirit of the age,--all which, translated

into plain language, mean (if they mean anything) the fashion,--require

that nations should provide themselves each with a new Liberal

government; claiming, in consideration of the fashionable vogue and the

expensive nature of the article, its introduction (unlike other British

manufactures) duty-free. But it ought first to be established, whether

these larger interests of humanity are amenable to the sceptre of so

capricious a ruler as the fashion. It appears to me, that nations should

be allowed to adapt their government to their respective characters,

dispositions, habits of life, and traditions. All these are more

dependant than is supposed by those who possess not the habit of

reflection, on the race, the position, the soil and climate each has

received from nature, which, by the influence they have exercised on

their habits and dispositions, have fitted them each for a form of

constitution equally appropriate to no other people; since no two

nations are similarly circumstanced, not only in all these respects, but

even in any one of them.

What could be more Liberal than the monarchy of Spain up to the

accession of the Bourbon dynasty? the kings never reigning but by the

consent of their subjects, and on the condition of unvarying respect for

their privileges; but never, when once seated on the throne, checked and

embarrassed in carrying through the measures necessary for the

administration of the state. The monarch was a responsible but a free

monarch until these days, when an attempt is being made to deprive him

both of freedom of action and responsibility--almost of utility, and to

render him a tool in the hands of a constantly varying succession of

needy advocates or military _parvenus_, whom the chances of civil war or

the gift of declamation have placed in the way of disputing the

ministerial salaries, without having been able to furnish either their

hearts with the patriotism, or their heads with the capacity, requisite

for the useful and upright administration of the empire. In Spain, the

advocates of continual change, in most cases in which personal interest

is not their moving spring, hope to arrive ultimately at a republic.

Now, no one more than myself admires the theories of Constitutional

governments, of universal political power and of republicanism: the last

system would be the best of all, were it only for the equality it is to

establish. But how are men to be equalised by the manufacturers of a

government? How are the ignorant and uneducated to be furnished with

legislative capacity, or the poor or unprincipled armed against the

seductions of bribery? It is not, unfortunately, in any one's power to

accomplish these requisite preliminary operations; without the

performance of which, these plausible theories will ever lose their

credit when brought to the test of experiment. How is a republic to be

durable without the previous solution of the problem of the equalisation

of human capacities? In some countries it may be almost attained for a

time; in others, never put in motion for an instant. No one more than

myself abhors tyranny and despotism; but, after hearing and reading all

the charges laid at the door of Absolutism during the last quarter of a

century, I am at a loss to account for the still greater evils and

defects, existing in Constitutional states, having been overlooked in

the comparison. The subject is far less free in France than in the

absolute states of Germany: and other appropriate comparisons might be

made which would bring us still nearer home. I would ask the advocates

for putting in practice a republican form of government, and by way of

comparing the two extremes, whether all the harm the Emperors of Russia

have ever done, or are likely to do until the end of the

world,--according to whatever sect the date of that event be

calculated,--will not knock under to one week of the exploits of the

French republicans of the last century? And if we carry on the

observation to the consequences of that revolution, until we arrive at

the decimation of that fine country under the military despotism which

was necessarily its offspring, we shall not find my argument weakened.

I entreat your pardon for this political digression, which I am as happy

to terminate as yourself. I will only add, that, should the period be

arrived for the Spanish empire to undergo the lot of all human

things--decline and dissolution, it has no right to complain, having had

its day; but, should that moment be still distant, let us hope to see

that country, so highly favoured by Nature, once more prosperous under

the institutions which raised her to the highest level of power and

prosperity.

Meanwhile, the elements of discord still exist in a simmering state

close to the brim of the cauldron, and a mere spark will suffice at any

moment to make them bubble over. The inhabitants of Madrid are in

hourly expectation of this spark; and not without reason, if the

_on-dits_ which circulate there, and reach to the neighbouring towns,

are deserving of credit. Queen Christina, on her road from Paris to

resume virtually, if not nominally, the government, conceived the

imprudent idea of taking Rome in her way. It is said that she confessed

to the Pope, who, in the solemn exercise of his authority as

representative of the Deity, declared to her that Spain would never

regain tranquillity until the possessions of the clergy should be

restored to them.

Whatever else may have passed during the interview is not stated; but a

deep impression was produced on the conscience of the Queen, to which is

attributed the change in her appearance evident to those who may happen

to have seen her a few months since in Paris. This short space of time

has produced on her features the effect of years. She has lost her

_embonpoint_, and acquired in its place paleness and wrinkles. She is

firmly resolved to carry out the views of the Pope. Here, therefore, is

the difficulty. The leading members of her party are among those who

have profited largely by the change of proprietorship which these vast

possessions have undergone: being the framers or abettors of the decree,

they were placed among the nearest for the scramble. In the emptiness of

the national treasury, they consider these acquisitions their sole

reward for the trouble of conducting the revolution, and are prepared to

defend them like tigers.

When, therefore, Queen Christina proposed her plan[4] to Narvaez, she

met with a flat refusal. He replied, that such a decree would deluge the

country with blood. The following day he was advised to give in his

resignation. This he refused to do, and another interview took place.

The Queen-mother insisted on his acceptance of the embassy to France. He

replied, that he certainly would obey her Majesty's commands; but that,

in that case, she would not be surprised if he published the act of her

marriage with Muños, which was in his power.[5] This would compel

Christina to refund all the income she has received as widow of

Ferdinand the Seventh. The interview ended angrily; and, doubtless,

recalled to Christina's recollection the still higher presumption of the

man, who owed to her the exalted situation from which, on a former

occasion, he levelled his attack on her authority. I am not answerable

for the authenticity of these generally received reports; but they prove

the unsettled state of things, when the determined disposition of the

two opposite parties, and the nearly equal balance of their force, are

taken into consideration.

I was scarcely housed at Madrid, having only quitted the hotel the

previous day, when the news reached me of the death of one of the fair

and accomplished young Countesses--the companions of my journey from

Bayonne to Burgos. You would scarcely believe possible the regret this

intelligence occasioned me,--more particularly from the peculiar

circumstances of the occurrence. Her father had recently arrived from

France, and the house was filled for the celebration of her birthday;

but she herself was forbidden to join the dinner-party, being scarcely

recovered from a severe attack of small-pox. The father's weakness could

not deny her admission at dessert, and an ice. The following day she was

dead.

Acquaintances made on the high road advance far more rapidly than those

formed in the usual formal intercourse of society. I can account in no

other way for the tinge of melancholy thrown over the commencement of my

sojourn at Madrid by this event,--befalling a person whose society I had

only enjoyed during three days, and whom I scarcely expected to see

again.

The modern capital of Spain is an elegant and brilliant city, and a very

agreeable residence; but for the admirer of the picturesque, or the

tourist in search of historical _souvenirs_, it contains few objects of

attraction. The picture-gallery is, however, a splendid exception; and,

being the best in the world, compensates, as you may easily suppose, for

the deficiency peculiar to Madrid in monuments of architectural

interest.

To put an end to the surprise you will experience at the enumeration of

such a profusion of _chefs d'oeuvre_ of the great masters as is here

found, it is necessary to lose sight of the present political situation

of Spain, and to transport ourselves to the age of painting. At that

time Spain was the most powerful, and especially the most opulent empire

in Europe. Almost all Italy belonged to her; a large portion actually

owning allegiance to her sceptre, and the remainder being subject to her

paramount influence. The familiarity which existed between Charles the

Fifth and Titian is well known; as is likewise the anecdote of the

pencil, picked up and presented by the Emperor to the artist, who had

dropped it.

The same taste for, and patronage of, painting, continued through the

successive reigns, until the period when painting itself died a natural

death; and anecdotes similar to that of Charles the Fifth are related of

Philip the Fourth and Velasquez. All the works of art thus collected,

and distributed through the different palaces, have been recently

brought together, and placed in an edifice, some time since commenced,

and as yet not entirely completed. Titian was the most favoured of all

the Italian painters, not only with respect to his familiar intercourse

with the Emperor, but also in a professional point of view. The Museo

contains no less than forty of his best productions. Nor is it

surprising that the taste of the monarch, being formed by his

masterpieces, should extend its preference to the rest of the Venetian

school in a greater degree than to the remaining Italian schools. There

are, however, ten pictures by Raffaelle, including the Spasimo,

considered by many to be his greatest work.

A cause similar to that above named enables us to account for the riches

assembled in the Dutch and Flemish rooms, among which may be counted

more than two hundred pictures of Teniers alone. I should observe, that

I am not answerable for this last calculation; being indebted for my

information to the director, and distinguished artist, Don Jose

Madrazo. There is no catalogue yet drawn up. Rubens has a suite of rooms

almost entirely to himself, besides his just portion of the walls of the

gallery. The Vandykes and Rembrandts are in great profusion. With regard

to the Spanish schools, it may be taken for granted that they are as

well represented as those of the foreign, although partially subject,

nations. The works of Velasquez are the most numerous; which is

accounted for by his situation of painter to the Court, under Philip the

Fourth. There are sixty of his paintings.

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

The Murillos are almost as numerous, and in his best style: but Seville

has retained the cream of the genius of her most talented offspring; and

even at Madrid, in the collection of the Academy, there is a

Murillo--the Saint Elizabeth--superior to any of those in the great

gallery. It is much to be wished that some artist, gifted with the pen

of a Joshua Reynolds, or even of a Mengs (author of a notice on a small

portion of these paintings), could be found, who would undertake a

complete critical review of this superb gallery. All I presume to say on

the subject is, were the journey ten times longer and more difficult,

the view of the Madrid Museo would not be too dearly purchased.

Before I left Madrid, I went to the palace, to see the traces of the

conspiracy of the 7th October, remaining on the doors of the Queen's

apartments. You will recollect that the revolt of October 1842 was that

in favour of Christina, when the three officers, Concha, Leon, and

Pezuela, with a battalion, attacked the palace in the night, for the

purpose of carrying off the Queen and her sister. On the failure of the

attempt, owing to its having been prematurely put in execution, the

Brigadier Leon was shot, and the two others escaped.

It appears that the execution of this officer, unlike the greater number

of these occurrences, caused a strong sensation in Madrid, owing to the

sympathy excited by his popular character, and the impression that he

was the victim of jealousy in the mind of the Regent. The fine speech,

however, attributed to him by some of the newspapers, was not pronounced

by him. His words were very few, and he uttered them in a loud and clear

tone, before giving the word of command to his executioners. This, and

his receiving the fire without turning his back, were the only incidents

worthy of remark.

One of the two sentries stationed at the door of the Queen's anteroom

when I arrived, happened to have played a conspicuous part on the

eventful night. The Queen was defended by the guard of hallebardiers,

which always mounts guard in the interior of the palace. This sentinel

informed me that he was on guard that night, on the top step of the

staircase, when Leon, followed by a few officers, was seen to come up.

Beyond him and his fellow-sentry there were only two more, who were

posted at the door of the Queen's anteroom, adjoining her sleeping

apartment. This door faces the whole length of the corridor, with which,

at a distance of about twenty yards, the top of the staircase

communicates. In order to shield himself from the fire of the two

sentinels at the Queen's door, Leon grasped my informant by the ribs

right and left, and, raising him from the ground, carried him, like a

mummy, to the corridor; and there, turning sharp to the left, up to the

two sentries, whom he summoned to give him admittance in the name of the

absent Christina.

On the soldiers' refusal, he gave orders to his battalion to advance,

and a pitched battle took place, which was not ultimately decided until

daybreak--seven hours after. The terror of the little princesses, during

this night, may be imagined. Two bullets penetrated into the bed-room;

and the holes made by about twenty more in the doors of some of the

state apartments communicating with the corridor, are still preserved as

souvenirs of the event. The palace contains some well-painted ceilings

by Mengs, and is worthy of its reputation of one of the finest

residences in Europe. The staircase is superb. It was here that

Napoleon, entering the palace on the occasion of his visit to Madrid, to

install Joseph Buonaparte in his kingdom, stopped on the first landing;

and, placing his hand on one of the white marble lions which crouch on

the balustrades, turned to Joseph, and exclaimed, "Mon frère, vous serez

mieux logé que moi."

There is no road from Madrid to Toledo. On the occasions of religious

festivities, which are attended by the court, the journey is performed

by way of Aranjuez, from which place a sort of road conducts to the

ancient capital of Spain. There is, however, for those who object to

add so much to the actual distance, a track, known, in all its

sinuosities, throughout its depths and its shallows, around its bays,

promontories, islands, and peninsulas--to the driver of the diligence,

and to the mounted bearer of the mail; both of whom travel on the same

days of the week, in order to furnish reciprocal aid, in case of damage

to either. A twenty-four hours' fall of rain renders this track

impassable by the usual conveyance; a very unusual sort of carriage is

consequently kept in reserve for these occasions, and, as the period of

my journey happened to coincide with an uncommonly aqueous disposition

of the Castilian skies, I was fortunately enabled to witness the less

every day, and more eventful transit, to which this arrangement gave

rise.

Accordingly at four o'clock on an April morning--an hour later than is

the custom on the road from France to Madrid--I ascended the steps of a

carriage, selected for its lightness, which to those who know anything

of Continental coach-building, conveys a sufficient idea of its probable

solidity. There was not yet sufficient daylight to take a view of this

fabric; but I saw, by the aid of a lantern, my luggage lifted into a

sort of loose net, composed of straw-ropes, and suspended between the

hind wheels in precisely such juxtaposition, as to make the

portmanteaus, bags, &c. bear the same topographic relation to the

vehicle, as the truffles do to a turkey, or the stuffing to a duck.

There was much grumbling about the quantity of my luggage, and some

hints thrown out, relative to the additional perils, suspended over our

heads, or rather, under our seats, in consequence of the coincidence of

the unusual weight, with the bad state of the _road_, as they termed it,

and the acknowledged caducity of the carriage. I really was, in fact,

the only one to blame; for I could not discover, besides my things, more

than two small valises belonging to all the other six passengers

together.

At length we set off, and at a distance of four miles from Madrid, as

day began to break, we broke down.

The break-down was neither violent nor dangerous, and was occasioned by

the crash of a hind wheel, while our pace did not exceed a walk: but it

was productive of some amusement, owing to the position, near the corner

of the vehicle which took the greatest fancy to _terra firma_, of a not

over heroic limb of the Castilian law, who had endeavoured to be

facetious ever since our departure, and whose countenance now exhibited

the most grotesque symptoms of real terror. Never, I am convinced, will

those moments be forgotten by that individual, whose vivacity deserted

him for the remainder of the journey; and whose attitude and

expression, as his extended arms failed to recover his centre of gravity

exchanged for the supine, folded-up posture, unavoidable by the occupant

at the lowest corner of a broken-down vehicle,--while his thoughts

wandered to his absent offspring, whose fond smiles awaited him in

Toledo, but to whom perhaps he was not allowed to bid an eternal

adieu--will live likewise in the memory of his fellow-travellers.

This _dénouement_ of the adventures of the first carriage rendered a

long halt necessary; during which, the postilion returned to Madrid on a

mule, and brought us out a second. This proceeding occupied four hours,

during which some entered a neighbouring _venta_, others remained on the

road, seated on heaps of stones, and all breakfasted on what provisions

they had brought with them, or could procure at the said _venta_. The

sight of the vehicle that now approached, would have been cheaply bought

at the price of twenty up-sets. Don Quixote would have charged it, had

such an apparition suddenly presented itself to his view. It was called

a phaeton, but bore no sort of resemblance to the open carriage known in

England by that name. Its form was remarkable by its length being out of

all proportion to its width,--so much so as to require three

widely-separated windows on each side. These were irregularly placed,

instead of being alike on the two sides, for the door appeared to have

been forgotten until after the completion of the fabric, and to have

taken subsequently the place of a window; which window--pursuant to a

praiseworthy sense of justice--was provided for at the expense of a

portion of deal board, and some uniformity.

The machine possessed, nevertheless, allowing for its rather exaggerated

length, somewhat of the form of an ancient landau; but the roof

describing a semicircle, gave it the appearance of having been placed

upside down by mistake, in lowering it on to the wheels. Then, with

regard to these wheels, they certainly had nothing very extraordinary

about their appearance, when motionless; but, on being subjected to a

forward or backward impulse, they assumed, respectively, and

independently of each other, such a zigzag movement, as would belong to

a rotatory, locomotive pendulum, should the progress of mechanics ever

attain to so complicated a discovery. Indeed, the machine, in general,

appeared desirous of avoiding the monotony attendant on a

straight-forward movement; the body of the monster, from the groans,

sighs, screams, and other various sounds which accompanied its heaving,

pitching, and rolling exertions, appearing to belong to some unwieldy

and agonised mammoth and to move by its own laborious efforts, instead

of being indebted for its progress to the half-dozen quadrupeds hooked

to its front projections.

The track along which this interesting production of mechanical art now

conveyed us, bore much resemblance to a river, in the accidents of its

course. Thus we were reminded at frequent intervals, by the suddenly

increased speed of our progress, that we were descending a rapid: at

other times the motion was so vertical, as to announce the passage down

a cataract. These incidents were not objectionable to me, as they

interrupted the monotony of the walking pace, to which we were

condemned; although one or two passengers of rather burly proportions,

seemed not much to enjoy their repetition. However this might be,

assuredly we were none of us sorry to find ourselves at eight o'clock

that evening safely housed at Toledo.

LETTER VIII.

PICTURESQUE POSITION OF TOLEDO. FLORINDA.

Toledo.

Every traveller--I don't mean every one who habitually assists in

wearing out roads, whether of stone or iron--nor who travels for

business, nor who seeks to escape from himself--meaning from ennui, (a

vain attempt, by the way, if Horace is to be depended on; since, even

should he travel on horseback, the most exhilarating sort of locomotion,

ennui will contrive to mount and ride pillion)--but every one who

deserves the name of traveller, who travels for travelling sake, for the

pleasure of travelling, knows the intensity of the feeling which impels

his right hand, as he proceeds to open the window-shutter of his

bed-room, on the morning subsequent to his nocturnal arrival in a new

town.

The windows of the Posada del Miradero at Toledo are so placed as by no

means to diminish the interest of this operation. The shutter being

opened, I found myself looking from a perpendicular elevation of

several hundred feet, on one of the prettiest views you can imagine. The

town was at my back, and the road by which we had arrived, was cut in

the side of the precipice beneath me. In following that direction, the

first object at all prominent was the gate leading to Madrid--a cluster

of half Arab embattled towers and walls, standing somewhat to the left

at the bottom of the descent. These gave issue to the track mentioned in

my journey, and which could now be traced straight in front, to a

considerable distance.

The ground rises slightly beyond the gates of the town, and preserves a

moderate elevation all across the view, retreating right and left, so as

to offer the convex side of the arc of an immense circle. This formation

gives to the view a valley, extending on either side, shut in on the

left by mountains at a distance of four miles; while to the east it

extends as far as the eye can reach,--some mountains, scarcely

perceptible, crossing it at the horizon. The Tagus advances down the

eastern valley from Aranjuez; which château is in view at the distance

of twenty-eight miles, and approaching with innumerable zigzags to the

foot of the town, suddenly forms a curve, and, dashing into the rocks,

passes round the back of the city, issues again into the western valley,

and, after another sharp turn to the left, resumes the same direction

as before. All this tract of country owes to the waters of the Tagus a

richness of vegetation, and a bright freshness nowhere surpassed. So

much for the distant view.

To judge of the nearer appearance of the town, I crossed the bridge of

Alcantara, placed at the entrance of the eastern valley, and leading to

Aranjuez. The situation may be described in a few words. Toledo stands

on an eminence nearly circular in its general form. It is a mass of

jagged rock, almost perpendicular on all its sides. The river flows

rather more than half round it, descending from the east, and passing

round its southern side. The left or south bank is of the same

precipitous formation; but, instead of presenting that peculiarity

during only a short distance, it continues so both above and below the

town; while on the opposite side the only high ground is the solitary

mass of rock selected, whether with a view to defence or to

inconvenience, for the position of this ancient city. The Tagus is

crossed by two bridges, one at each extremity of the semi-circle

described by it round the half of the town. These bridges are both

highly picturesque, from their form no less than their situation. They

are raised upon arches of a height so disproportionate to their width,

as to appear like aqueducts; and are provided at each extremity with

towers, all, with one exception, Moorish in their style. The lower

bridge (lower by position, for it is the higher of the two in actual

elevation) bears the name of San Martin, and is traversed by the road to

Estremadura; the other leads to Aranjuez, and is the puente de

Alcantara. We are now standing on this last, having passed under the

Arab archway of its tower.

Its width is just sufficient for the passage of two vehicles abreast,

and it is covered with flag-paving. The river flows sixty feet below. At

the back of the tower which faces you, at the opposite end of the

bridge, rises a rock, almost isolated from the rest of the cliff, and on

its top the half-ruined towers and walls of a Moorish castle. On the

left hand extends the valley, through which the river approaches in a

broad mass. The road to Aranjuez follows the same direction, after

having first disappeared round the base of the rock just mentioned, and

is bordered with rose-trees, and occasional groups of limes, which

separate it from the portions set apart for pedestrians. On the right

hand the river (still looking from the bridge) is suddenly pressed in

between precipices, becomes narrow, and at the distance of a few hundred

yards, forms a noisy cascade.

[Illustration: VIEW OF TOLEDO]

Still looking in that direction, the left bank--a rocky precipice, as I

mentioned before--curves round and soon hurries it out of sight. The

lower part of the opposite or town bank is ornamented, close to the

cascade, with a picturesque ruin, on which you look down from your

position. This consists of three stories of arches, standing partly in

the water. Above and behind them rise a few larger buildings, almost

perpendicularly over each other, and the summit is crowned with the

colossal quadrangular mass of the Alcazar.

The ruinous arches just mentioned, are the remains of a building erected

by a speculator, who had conceived a plan for raising water to the

Alcazar by means of wheels, furnished with jars, according to the custom

of this part of Spain. The arrangement is simple; the jars, being

attached round a perpendicular wheel, successively fill with water, as

each arrives at the bottom, and empty themselves, on reaching the

summit, into any receptacle placed so as to receive their contents. The

speculator, having to operate on a colossal scale, intended probably to

super-pose wheel over wheel, and to establish reservoirs at different

elevations, as it would scarcely be possible to work a wheel of such

dimensions as to carry jars to the height required (more than three

hundred feet), even though furnished with ropes, which are made to turn

round the wheel and descend below it.

Crossing the bridge, the road quits the river, or rather is left for a

certain space by it, until it meets it at the distance of a mile. This

road is a favourite promenade of the inhabitants, and deservedly so. On

each side, for the distance of a mile, it is bordered by hedges of

magnificent rose-trees. These hedges are double on both sides, enclosing

walks for the promenaders on foot. Behind those on the outside, the

colours are varied by the pale green of the olive-tree; and over them

occasional clusters of lime-trees, mingled with the acacia and laburnum,

furnish shade, in case of an excess of sunshine. This promenade, flanked

on one side by the hills, and on the other, by the highly cultivated

plain, in parts of which the Tagus is seen occasionally to peep through

its wooded banks, is most delicious during the rose season. I should

especially recommend the visitor of Toledo to repair to it during the

first hour after sunrise, when thronged with birds, which are here

almost tame, and fill the air with their music; and also in the evening,

when frequented by the mantilla-hooded fair of the city.

There is, however, notwithstanding the beauty and gay appearance of this

profusion of roses, a singular effect produced by their situation.

Usually seen surrounded by other flowers or by well-kept grass or earth,

they do not look quite themselves on the side on which they rest their

bushy foundations on a dusty road, covered with deep ruts. The fish out

of water forms a hackneyed, not to say a dried up, comparison; but we

can compare the rather pallid and unnatural appearance of these plants

to that of a bevy of ladies, who, tired of the monotony of a ball-room

in Grosvenor Place, should resolve, precisely at the crisis when

candle-light is more than ever required for their rather suffering

complexions, to compel their partners to lead them, at sunrise, a

galopade down Tattersall's yard. The roses, thus misplaced, are

nevertheless roses, and cease not to be fair, in spite of their unusual

_entourage_, and to contribute to the beauty and novelty of this

picturesque promenade.

Amongst the variety of harmless weaknesses by which human imagination,

and consequently human locomotion are influenced, I look upon one of the

most irresistible (if such an epithet be applicable to a weakness) to be

that fractional component part of the cravings of antiquarianism, which

urges some persons in the search after, and rewards their labours on the

discovery of, the locality supposed to be the birthscene of some great

historical event, however insignificant in other respects, or even

however loathsome its actual state may be to the outward senses. Thus,

when, in Normandy, the worthy and probably waggish majordomo of the

crumbling old castle of Falaise, directs your attention to the window

from which Duke Robert caught the first glance of the ankle of William

the Conqueror's mother,--as she pursued her professional labours, and

polluted with her soapsuds the silver brook a quarter of a mile below

him,--and suddenly yielded his soul to its irresistible beauty:

notwithstanding the impossibility of the thing, many, and I confess

myself one, are too delighted with the window, and the rivulet, and the

majordomo, and the--God knows what!--perhaps with the very

impossibility--to allow themselves a moment's sceptical or sarcastic

feeling on the subject.

I should mention that my visit to Falaise happening to take place

shortly after the passage of the King of the French on a tour through

his western provinces, the aforesaid cicerone pointed out a highly

suspicious-looking inscription, being the initials of the monarch,

carefully engraved in the stone; which he informed me had been cut by

Louis Philippe, on the occasion of his visit at midnight to the room of

Duke Robert; but of which I took the liberty of suspecting himself of

being the sculptor, during some idle moment,--fond as he probably was of

contemplating the innocently expressive countenances of his satisfied

visitors.

Actuated by the feeling I have attempted to describe, one of my first

inquiries at Toledo related to the well-known story of Florinda and her

bath, so fatal to the Gothic sway in Spain. I was immediately directed

to the spot, on which is seen a square tower, pierced by arched openings

through its two opposite sides, and on a third side by a similar but

smaller aperture. The four walls alone remain, and the whole is

uncovered. This symmetrical-looking edifice, well built and composed of

large stones, measures about sixteen feet square, and from forty to

fifty in elevation, and stands on the edge of the river, on the town

side, about a hundred yards below the western bridge--that called after

Saint Martin--at the precise point at which the river quits the town,

and its north bank ceases to be precipitous.

The extreme point of the termination of the high ground is immediately

over the building, and is covered with the ruins of King Roderick's

palace, the outer walls of which descend to the water, and are

terminated by a small roundtower within a few yards of the quadrangular

edifice. The edifice is called the Baño de la Cava, meaning Florinda's

bath, although the native popular tradition, losing sight of the events

of the history, has metamorphosed the heroine of the spot into a Moorish

princess.

In fact, the rocky precipice terminates at this spot,--the last piece

of rock forming part of the foundation of the square tower, immediately

beyond which is a gently descending sand-bank most convenient and

tempting to bathers. This circumstance, added to the situation of

Roderick's residence, immediately above the scene, was delightfully

corroborative of the tradition; and proved sufficiently, had all

investigation ceased there, the identity of the spot with the scene of

the anecdote. Owing to an excess of curiosity a new discovery threw a

doubt over the whole affair.

[Illustration: FLORINDA'S BATH.]

A bridge is too public a thoroughfare to allow of bathing to be

practised in its immediate neighbourhood: and, in fact, the erection of

the neighbouring one of St. Martin is of much later date than the events

of the history in question. Fatal curiosity, however, led me to the back

of the building,--the very bath of Florinda,--where it was impossible

not to discover, even to conviction, that it, the square tower itself,

had formerly been the entrance of a bridge. This is proved by the ruins

of two piers, which appear above the water,--one near to the shore on

which I was standing, the other near to the opposite bank, and both

forming a line with the square tower on looking through its two opposite

arches. The tower possesses other peculiarities which, compared with

those belonging to the bridges actually in existence, fully confirm the

supposition.

Now, although the tradition has christened the spot Baño de la Cava,

which expression is translated "bath of the prostitute," it is certain

that Florinda was the daughter of Count Julian, governor of the Spanish

possessions in Africa, and a personage of sufficient rank and influence

to obtain a hearing at the court of the Arab Caliph, or at all events of

his viceroy in Africa, and to conceive the idea of calling a foreign

army to execute his private vengeance. It is therefore extremely

improbable that the daughter of such a person should have been seen to

measure and compare the proportions of her legs with those of her

companions in the immediate vicinity of a bridge, necessarily the most

frequented of thoroughfares.

I confess I left the spot filled with disappointment. In vain I

reflected that after all the fact is fact--that the sensual Roderick may

certainly have spied from behind a window-lattice the frolics of some

ladies at their bath; and that, wherever his _espionage_ took place, he

may for that purpose have intentionally procured himself a place of

concealment, and have formed the resolution of possessing one of them.

In fact, it was a matter of indifference to me whether the circumstance

had occurred or not, provided I should ascertain its whereabouts,

supposing it real, instead of merely discovering the spot on which it

did not take place.

Having thus convicted the generally received tradition of deceit,--at

least, in one of its parts,--it became an object to discover some other

version of the story, which might tally in a more satisfactory manner

with present existing proofs. The Arab historians deny the invasion to

have been brought about by any such occurrence; but Mariana, copied by

more recent writers, has either discovered or compiled a very plausible

story, clear in its details, only erroneous in respect of the heroine's

name, which he makes out to be Cava. From this version the bath is

entirely excluded.

According to the custom in Gothic Spain, the sons of the nobles received

their education in the royal palace, and on attaining the age of

manhood, they formed an escort round the sovereign on all expeditions,

whether to the field or the chase. Their daughters were likewise

entrusted to the care of royalty, and attended the person of the Queen,

after having completed their education and instruction in the

accomplishments suited to their sex, under her superintendence. When

these noble damsels could number sufficient summers, their hands were

bestowed according to the royal selection.

Among the attendants of Queen Egilona, was a daughter of Count Julian,

possessed of extreme beauty. Florinda, while playing with her companions

in a garden, situated on the banks of the Tagus, and overlooked by a

tower, which contained a portion of Don Rodrigo's apartments, exposed to

view, more than accorded either with etiquette or with her intention,

the symmetry of her form. King Rodrigo, who, favoured by the concealment

of a window-blind, had been watching the whole scene, became suddenly

enamoured of her, and resolved to obtain a return of his passion; but,

after finding every effort useless, and his object unattainable, he at

length employed violence.

Every circumstance of this story is corroborated, as far as is possible

in the present time, by the position of the localities, the known

customs of the period, and the character of King Roderick. But the

historian Mariana, to show the minuteness and triumph of research, on

which he has founded his relation, quotes the young lady's own version

of the affair; in fact, no less interesting a document than her letter

to her father, then in Africa, disclosing the insult offered to the

family. The following is the translation of this portentous dispatch. A

_billet-doux_ pregnant with greater events never issued from the boudoir

of beauty and innocence.

"Would to Heaven, my lord and father!--Would to Heaven the earth had

closed over me, before it fell to my lot to write these lines, and with

such grievous news to cause you sadness and perpetual regret! How many

are the tears that flow while I am writing, these blots and erasures are

witnesses. And yet if I do not immediately, I shall cause a suspicion

that not only the body has been polluted, but the soul likewise blotted

and stained with perpetual infamy. Would I could foresee a term to our

misery!--Who but yourself shall find a remedy for our misfortunes? Shall

we delay, until time brings to light that which is now a secret, and

the affront we have received entail on us a shame more intolerable than

death itself? I blush to write that which I am bound to divulge. O

wretched and miserable fate! In a word, your daughter--your blood, that

of the kingly line of the Goths, has suffered from King Rodrigo,--to

whose care, alas! she was entrusted like the sheep to the wolf,--a most

wicked and cruel affront. It is for you, if you are worthy the name of a

man, to cause the sweet draught of our ruin to become a deadly poison to

his life; nor to leave unpunished the mockery and insult he has cast on

our line and on our house."

Don Julian, who, as some say, was of royal descent, and a relative, not

far removed, of Roderick--was possessed of qualities no less marked by

daring than artifice. His plans well digested, he committed his

government in Africa to the charge of a deputy, and repaired to the

court at Toledo. There he made it his business to advance in credit and

favour until the moment should arrive for action. His first step was, by

means of false alarms of attacks meditated on the northern frontier, to

get rid of the principal part of the disposable forces in that

direction. Meanwhile he caused a letter from his Countess, who remained

in Africa, to be forwarded to the King, in which, on the plea of serious

illness, she urgently entreats the royal permission for the departure

of Florinda to Ceuta. It is related that the profligate Rodrigo

consented to the journey with so much the better grace, that possession

had divested the attractions of his victim of all further hold of his

passions, already under the dominion of new allurements.

There is a gate at Malaga, giving issue towards the sea-shore, which

bears to this day the name of Gate of the Cava: through it she is said

to have passed on embarking for Africa.

With regard to the name "la Cava" given to the gate and to the bath, I

am disposed to prefer the popular notion to the assertion of Mariana,

that it was her name. It is a natural supposition that the anecdote of

the affair of Toledo, spread among the Arabs, who, for centuries after

this period, were the depositaries of the annals and traditions of the

Peninsula,--should have become tinted with a colour derived from their

customs and ideas. Now it would be difficult to persuade an Arab that

the circumstances of the story in question could befall a virtuous

female, surrounded with the thousand precautions peculiar to an oriental

court. If we add to this the contemptuous tone assumed by them towards

those of the hostile creed--a tone that must have suited in an especial

degree with their way of thinking on the subject of female deportment

among the Christians, which they look upon as totally devoid of

delicacy and reserve--the epithet applied to Florinda is easily

accounted for. But to return to the story.

It only now remained for Don Julian to determine the Caliph's viceroy in

Africa in favour of the invasion. Repairing to his court, he obtained an

audience, in which he painted to the Prince, in such eloquent terms, the

natural and artificial wealth of the Spanish peninsula, the facility of

the enterprise, owing to the absence of the principal part of the

disposable hostile force, and the unpopularity of King Rodrigo, that an

expedition was immediately ordered; which, although at first prudently

limited to a small troop under Tharig, led to the conquest, in a few

campaigns, of the whole Peninsula.

Mingled with the ruins of Roderick's palace are seen at present those of

the monastery of Saint Augustin, subsequently erected on the same site:

but on the side facing the river, the ancient wall and turrets, almost

confounded with the rock, on which they were built, have outlived the

more recent erections, or perhaps have not been interfered with by them.

Immediately beyond the portion of these walls, beneath which is seen the

Baño de la Cava, they turn, together with the brink of the precipice,

abruptly to the north, forming a right angle with the river bank: this

part faces the western _vega_ or valley, and looks down on the site of

the ancient palace gardens, which occupied the first low ground. They

extended as far as the chapel of Santa Leocadia. The ground is now

traversed by the road to the celebrated sword-blade manufactory,

situated on the bank of the river, half a mile lower down. With the

exception of the inmates of that establishment, the only human beings

who frequent the spot are the votaries on their way to the shrine of

Santa Leocadia, and the convicts of a neighbouring _Presidio_ in search

of water from the river.

LETTER IX.

CATHEDRAL OF TOLEDO.

Toledo.

Every successive æra of civilization, with the concomitant religion on

which it has been founded, and from which it has taken its peculiar

mould, has, after maintaining its ground with more or less lustre, and

throughout a greater or smaller duration, arrived at its inevitable

period of decline and overthrow.

In ceasing, however, to live, and to fill society far and wide with its

enlightening influence,--in exchanging its erect attitude for the

prostrate one consequent on its fall,--seldom has a creed, which has

long held possession of the most enlightened intellects of our race for

the time being, undergone an entire extinction, so as to disappear

altogether from the face of the earth, and leave no trace of its

existence. The influence of the soil, formation, and climate of the

region, in the bosom of which such civilization has had its birth, on

the dispositions and faculties of the race which has become its

depositary, has always set its peculiar mark on its monuments, whether

civil, military, or religious, but especially the last; which monuments,

surviving the reign of the power to which they owe their existence,

prolong and sanctify its memory, while they stand, erect and silent,

over its grave; and furnish valuable information and benefit to those

future generations sufficiently enlightened to consult them.

If this theory of successions and vicissitudes be consonant (which

probably no one will deny) with the march of events on the surface of

this our planet, then do the circumstances of the present situation

invest, as far as regards Spain, those relics of human genius and human

enthusiasm, the venerable temples of her declining faith, with an

interest beyond that which they have possessed at any period since their

foundation. It is impossible to have paid any attention to the events of

the last few years, without having received the conviction that the

reign of Christianity is here fast approaching,--not the commencement,

but the termination of its decline. Spaniards will never do things by

halves; and will probably prefer the entire overthrow of ancient customs

to the system pursued in France, of propping up, by government

enactments and salaries, a tottering edifice of external forms, long

since divested of its foundation of public belief.

To speak correctly, the decline of religious supremacy in Spain is by no

means recent. It was coeval with that of the arts, and of the political

grandeur of the country. The gradual cessation of the vast gifts and

endowments for the erection of the religious establishments was a

symptom of devotional enthusiasm having passed its zenith. Had not this

occurred nearly three centuries back, Madrid would not have wanted a

Cathedral. Nothing could ever have tended more directly to compromise

the durability of Christianity in Spain, than the final expulsion or

extermination of the Moors and Jews. Had Torquemada and a few others

possessed heads as clear and calculating as their hearts were resolute

and inexorable--a knowledge of human nature as profound as their

ambition of divine honours was exalted, they would have taken care not

entirely to deprive the Church of food for its passions and energies.

They would not have devoured all their heretics at a single meal, but

would have exercised more _ménagement_ and less voracity. They would

have foreseen that by burning a few hundred Jews and Arabs less each

year, nourishment would remain to animate the declamations of preachers,

and the energies of the faithful; without which the fatal effects of

sloth and indifference must inevitably take root in the imaginations,

and eventually undermine their lofty fabric.

The decline was, however, so gradual as to exercise no perceptible

influence on the general conduct of the population, by whom forms were

still observed, churches filled, and acts of devotion unceasingly

accomplished. A variety of causes (into a description of which it is not

my object, nor would it be your wish, that I should enter, but of which

one of the most influential has been the importation of foreign

ideas--as well through natural channels, as by special and interested

exertions) has precipitated the _dénouement_ of this long-commenced

revolution; and that with so headlong a rapidity, that, in that Spain

which surpassed all other nations in bigoted attachment to religious

rites, the confiscation of all the possessions of the Church, under a

promise (not to be performed) of salaries for a certain number of

ecclesiastics, insufficient for the continuation of the ancient

ceremonies, is received by the population with indifference! The

Cathedral of Toledo, deprived of the greater number of its

functionaries,--including its archbishop and fifty-six of its sixty

canons, and no longer possessing, out of an income of hundreds of

thousands sterling, a treasure sufficient for providing brooms and

sweepers for its pavement,--will, in perhaps not much more than another

year, if the predictions of the inhabitants be verified, be finally

closed to public worship.

The same interest, therefore, which surrounded the Arab monuments three

centuries since, and the Roman edifices of Spain in the fifth century,

attaches itself now to the Christian temples; which, at this crisis,

offer themselves to the tourist in the sad but attractive gloom of

approaching death; since depriving them of the pomp and observances

which filled their tall arcades with animation, is equivalent to

separating a soul from a body. He will explore them and examine their

ceremonies with all the eagerness and perseverance of a last

opportunity,--he will wander untired through the mysterious twilight of

their arched recesses, and muse on the riches lavished around him to so

little purpose, and on the hopes of those who entrusted their memories

to the guardianship of so frail and transient a depositary. The tones of

their giant though melodious voices, as, sent from a thousand brazen

throats, they roll through the vaulted space the dirge of their

approaching fate, will fill him with sadness; and the ray that streams

upon him from each crimson and blue _rosace_ will fix itself on his

memory, kindling around it an inextinguishable warmth, as though he had

witnessed the smile of a departing saint.

I had read of Toledo being in possession of the finest church in

Spain,--and _that_ in the book of a tourist, whose visit to this town

follows immediately that to Seville. Begging pardon of the clever and

entertaining writer to whom I allude, the Cathedral of Toledo strikes me

as far from being the finest in Spain; nor would it be the finest in

France, nor in England, nor in other countries that might be enumerated,

could it be transported to either. It is large; but in this respect it

yields to that of Seville. What its other claims to pre-eminence may be,

it is difficult to discover. It is true that its interior presents a

specimen of the simple and grand pointed style of its period. This being

put in execution on a large scale, would render it an imposing and a

beautiful edifice, but for a subsequent addition, which, to render

justice to the architect, he certainly never could have contemplated.

The noble pillars, towering to a height of sixty feet, have been

clothed, together with their capitals, in a magnificent coat of

whitewash! Without having witnessed such a desecration in this or some

similar edifice, it is impossible to conceive the deadening effect it

produces on the feeling of admiration such a building ought to excite.

An inscription in distinct and large characters, over the southernmost

of the three western doors, after recording the conquest of Granada by

the Catholic Kings, as Ferdinand and Isabella are here termed, the

expulsion of the Jews, and the completion of the Cathedral, brands with

this act of barbarism one Don Francisco Fernandez de Cuença, _obrero

mayor_ (almost a Dean) of the Cathedral in the year 1493.

There is, however, a moment of each day when the tall arcades vindicate

their outraged majesty. "La nuit tous les chats sont gris," says the

proverb. I therefore proceeded at the approach of twilight (all access

at a later hour being prohibited) to see whether its application would

extend to this church. This is, in fact, the hour, just before the

closing of the doors, at which it should be visited. Darkness has

assumed his empire within these walls long before the stirring labyrinth

without has had warning of his approach. No colours nor gildings (the

latter being rather injudiciously distributed) are visible--nothing but

a superb range of beautifully painted windows; and the columns only

trace their dim outline a little less black against the deep gloom of

the rest of the building. At this hour, could it last, it would be

impossible to tire of wandering through this forest of magnificent

stems, of which the branches are only seen to spring, and immediately

lose themselves beneath the glories of the coloured transparencies

rendered doubly brilliant by their contrast with the gloom of all below

them. The principal merit, in fact, of this edifice, consists in its

windows. That of the purity of its general style deserves also to be

allowed; but with some reserve in the appreciation of the accessory

points of the design. It depended, for instance, on the judgment of the

architect, to diminish or to increase the number of columns which

separate the different naves, and by their unnecessary abundance he has

impaired the grandeur of the general effect.

The interior dimensions are as follows:--Length, including a moderately

sized chapel at the eastern extremity, three hundred and fifty English

feet; width, throughout, one hundred and seventy-four feet; height of

the principal nave and transept, about one hundred and twenty feet. The

width is divided into five naves; those at the outside rising to about

two-thirds of the height of the two next adjoining; and these to about

half that of the centre nave. An entire side of a chapel opening out of

the southernmost nave, is ornamented in the Arab style--having been

executed by a Moorish artist at the same period as the rest; and not (as

might be conjectured) having belonged to the mosque, which occupied the

same site previously to the erection of the present cathedral. This

small chapel would be a beautiful specimen of the Arab ornament in

stucco, but for several coats of whitewash it has received. An arched

recess occupies the centre, and is called the Tomb of the Alguazil. A

handsome doorway in the same style is seen in the anteroom of the

Chapter-saloon.

[Illustration: APSE OF THE CATHEDRAL, TOLEDO.]

Facing the entrance to the centre or extreme eastern chapel, that of San

Ildefonzo, the back of the high altar, or, as it is vulgarly called, the

Trascoro, is--not adorned, would it were possible not to say

disfigured, by an immense mass of sculpture called the Transparente. It

is not easy to imagine the reason of this altar-piece having received

its name, for it is not more transparent than any other mountain--never

was witnessed so lamentable a mis-application of riches and labour! Some

of the marble was brought from Carrara; the rest is not of a very good

white, and being thus exposed to an unfavourable contrast, adds to the

displeasing effect of the unwieldy forms which enter into the

composition of this huge blunder of art--this pile of masses on masses

of ugliness. At the sight of a large spherical form rising abruptly from

the surface of some shaft of a pillar, you step back, and discover that

it forms part of the posteriors of a corpulent cherub, as large as the

column itself, which he has thus unmercifully annihilated, in order to

save himself the trouble of passing a few inches to the left or right.

But it is needless to notice the details of this piece of sculpture,

which being the largest, and occupying the most conspicuous position in

the whole church, forcibly attracts the attention which, but for that

circumstance, one would rather bestow in another direction.

It is a relief to take one's station on the shining mahogany benches

adjoining the wall of the opposite chapel of San Ildefonzo; and to

contemplate its chaste style and graceful proportions, and the handsome

tombs which occupy its octagonally divided walls. The piece of sculpture

in marble, placed over the principal altar, is undeserving of its

conspicuous situation. It represents the Vision of San Ildefonzo, to

which we shall shortly have occasion to direct our attention.

The adjoining chapel, as we proceed towards the northernmost nave, that

of Santiago, or more generally called after its founder, Don Alvaro de

Luna, is still finer. It is larger and loftier, and of a more ornamental

design. It presents five sides of an octagon: the three remaining sides

turning inwards to suit the form of the apse. This Alvaro de Luna, the

Lord Essex of Juan the Second, having by the high favour he enjoyed in

the intimacy of the monarch, given umbrage to the courtiers, was put to

death by the King, who gave credit to the charges falsely brought

against him. Don Juan, however, who did not long survive his friend, had

justice done to his remains. Being found innocent by a posthumous trial

at Valladolid, his body was conveyed with great pomp to Toledo, and

placed in the centre of his chapel. The tomb of his Countess stands

close to his own; and in the niches of the surrounding walls, those of

his most distinguished relatives, one of whom, on the right of the

altar, is represented in complete armour, with a turban on his head. The

treasures bestowed on this favourite, flowed plentifully into the

Cathedral of Toledo. Besides his chapel, the finest of all--the

elaborately executed enclosure of the sanctuary, is one of his gifts:

his arms are there recognised, frequently recurring among the various

designs of the external tracery.

A narrow passage, leading from the apse between the chapel of Don

Alvaro, and the entrance to the sacristy, communicates with the chapel

of the kings. After passing through a simply designed anteroom of more

recent date, the eye reposes with pleasure on a small interior in the

pointed style of the latest period--of proportions, perhaps, not the

less graceful from their being rather narrow for the length. Two richly

ornamented arches, stretching across the interior, divide it into three

parts, in the first of which is seen a gallery containing an elaborately

wrought gilded confessional. The walls of the two other divisions are

divided into six parts; the chapel having been constructed and endowed

by Juan the First, for the reception of six monuments: those of himself

and his Queen Isabella; those of his father Henry the Second, (natural

son of Alonzo the Eleventh, and who dethroned and killed with his own

hand his half-brother, Pedro the cruel,) and Doña Juana his wife; and

those of Henry the Third, and Doña Catalina his wife.

Returning to the interior of the apse, and continuing in the direction

of the north side, another small passage and anteroom lead to the

principal sacristy, which communicates with the next chapel, called the

Sagrario, and composed of three apartments. The great sacristy contains

some good paintings, particularly the ceiling by Giordano--a modern tomb

of the late archbishop, Cardinal de Bourbon, and a series of narrow

doors, within which are recesses. The first of these contains the crown

and bracelets of the Virgin of the Sagrario: in four others are

preserved magnificent ornaments of silver, representing emblematically

the four quarters of the globe. Each quarter is personified by a figure

invested with the attributes which characterize the region she

represents, seated on a large silver globe, on the front of which is

traced the quarter represented. The globe is supported by figures of

animals. In the last of these recesses is seen the sword of Alonzo the

Sixth, who won Toledo from the Moors. It is small, and unornamented,

except by a hilt of embossed silver, on which the arms are repeated four

times. In the smaller sacristy within are several good pictures, but not

so remarkable as to prevent their being eclipsed by the splendid robe

of the Virgin of the neighbouring Sagrario, here exhibited, extended

flat on a semicircular board, such being the form of the garment.

No one knows the value of this treasure. During the Peninsular War, the

archbishop, in order to spare the French Generals too great a

temptation, conveyed it, together with whatever else deserved the

precaution, to Cadiz. It is embroidered almost entirely with pearls on a

tissue of silver; but none of the silver is visible without separating

the pearls, diamonds, &c., with the fingers. Most of the larger pearls

possess the irregular sort of beaten shape often observed in the best

specimens. Some are enormous. Numbers of diamonds, rubies, and other

stones are admitted in the upper part, to vary and enliven the effect of

the different designs of the embroidery. In another case is extended the

front-piece, worn together with the robe, which is open in front. The

robe sits nearly in the fashion of a lady's cloak, but perfectly stiff,

and widening as it descends, so much as to make the figure assume the

appearance of a triangle, of which the base is longer than the two other

sides. The opening in front corresponds with the outline of the two

sides, being wider below than above, although not in as great a degree.

This opening is occupied by the front-piece, which is much smaller than

the robe, but still more valuable, being principally worked in

brilliants. It contains also every variety of precious stones,

introduced as their colours may happen to accord with the design.

In addition to these is shown the dress of the Bambino, similar in

materials to the two others; but the pearls and diamonds more equally

distributed.

But the marvel of this costume is the crown. This ornament adds to the

splendour of its materials, the most exquisite and elaborate

workmanship. It would require hours to appreciate the labour and taste

displayed in all its details. Marshal Soult, could he but see it, would

order masses for the soul of the prelate who spared him such a

temptation. The diamonds, especially those which compose a cross

surmounting the centre, are of the purest water, and of immense size.

But in the midst of the dazzling and harmonious intricacy of this gem of

all colours, there is a centre of attraction, which took my fancy more

than the rest. Immediately under the centre ball, an immense spherical

emerald, which supports the diamond cross, is a small bird suspended on

a hook within the crown. All the parts of this bird are composed of

white enamel, except the body, around which the wings, legs, neck, and

head, are attached, and which consists of a pearl of an oval form, about

the size of a sparrow's egg. The movement of the statue during a

procession, keeps the bird (hanging from its hook) in constant

agitation, and produces the effect of a living bird enclosed in a cage

of precious stones.[6]

A pair of bracelets, possessing no less magnificence than the crown, but

rather too heavy and bulky to be graceful, are suspended in the same

recess, and worn on the same occasions.

It should not be forgotten, as a proof of the judgment shown in the

choice of ornaments, which, as far as regards the front, consist

principally of diamonds, that the complexion of the Virgin of the

Sagrario, is more than dark--in fact, quite black.[7] The innermost of

the three apartments forming the chapel of the Sagrario is called the

Ochavo, and is the deposit of a collection of relics of all kinds. It is

an octagon, surmounted at an elevation of more than double its diameter

by a dome ornamented with excellent painting. The walls are faced with

the best Spanish marbles. Each of the eight sides contains an open

recess reaching to the first cornice--an elevation of about twenty-five

feet; and in these recesses are contained all the valuable relics

belonging to the cathedral;--a rich display of silver statues,

reliquaries, coffins, chests, and crosses of gold and silver, some

containing jewels of great value. A silver statue of Saint Ferdinand

wearing a golden crown is among the objects most worthy of remark; also

a cross containing a portion of the true cross, presented to the

cathedral by St. Louis. This and several other relics, such as a phial

containing the Virgin's milk, a portion of our Saviour's purple garment,

&c., were presented to the cathedral by St. Louis on his return from the

east, and are here preserved, together with the letter in his own

hand-writing, which accompanied them.

The Virgin of the Sagrario receives by far the greatest share of

devotion brought to the numerous shrines of this vast temple, even

greater than that offered at the high altar. More masses are performed

at her altar than at all the others added together. The aisles facing

her antechapel are constantly filled with a crowd of kneeling votaries.

She stands in the second enclosure, turning her back to the Ochavo. An

iron railing separates her apartment from the first chapel, which is

usually open to the aisles. She stands consequently in full view,

magnificently robed in a _fac simile_ imitation of her pearl dress, the

original being only worn on one or two occasions during the year.

The interior of the Capilla Mayor, is ornamented with several rows of

statues, and some handsome funereal monuments, forming together a sort

of transparent wall of sculpture on each of its sides. In the midst of a

series of mitred archbishops, and coroneted princes, the figure of a

peasant occupies one of the most conspicuous positions. It stands on the

left side, as you face the High Altar, and about twenty feet from the

pavement. This statue represents a celebrated historical personage.

Alonzo the Eighth, when penetrating across the Sierra Morena into

Andalucia, in search of the Moorish army under the King of Morocco,

Mahomed ben Jacob, was in danger of losing the fruit of his exertions,

in bringing together the forces of the Kings of Aragon and Navarre,

together with numerous other confederates. He had led the combined army

into a defile, in which he would have had to receive the attack of the

Moor at an insuperable disadvantage. The hostile forces occupied a

height called the Puerto del Miradal.

It was at the moment that retreat was the subject of deliberation, that

a peasant presented himself, and offered to guide the army out of the

pass. Having assured himself of the man's sincerity, Alonzo put himself

under his conduct, and was led to the summit of the mountain, where he

found himself on the border of an immense plain. This decided the great

victory of las Navas de Tolosa gained over the Moors on the 16th of

July, 1212. Alonzo ordered a statue of the peasant to be placed in this

cathedral. He is represented in a costume not unlike that of an ancient

Roman rustic, a sort of tunic reaching to the knees, and his face is

covered with a profuse beard.

The interior of the choir is the work of Felipe de Borgoña, and

Berruguete; the latter having been employed, after the death of Felipe

de Borgoña, in 1548, in continuing the sculptures. The entire south side

was left for him to complete; after which he added a group in marble,

representing the Transfiguration, placed rather injudiciously, since it

out-tops the screen or back of the choir; thus presenting to the view of

those who enter from the western or grand entrance, and who are more

likely to have come with the intention of viewing the ornaments, than

the canons who are seated in the choir--the back of the subject, or

rather, forms which represent no subject whatever. There is a Virgin on

a pedestal in the centre of the eastern end of the choir, turning her

back to the bronze railing which separates it from the transept. This

statue has occupied its present position ever since the erection of the

cathedral; and it is probable would long since have quitted it, but for

a still greater inconvenience consequent on its removal. The attempt was

recently made, when a mass of water issued with much violence from

beneath the pedestal, and putting to flight the canons who were

assembled to preside at the operation, instantly inundated the whole

church. The virgin occupies probably the site of the fountain which must

have been the centre of the court, at the period of the existence of the

mosque. However that may be, the spot is the exact centre of the present

edifice.

At the two eastern angles of the quadrangle, formed by the intersection

of the transept and principal nave, close to the railing of the capilla

mayor are two pulpits of bronze, excellently wrought; supported on short

pillars of rare marbles.

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE CATHEDRAL, TOLEDO.]

A tall pyramidal Gothic edifice[8] of gilded and painted wood, rising to

the full height of the ceiling, stands in front of a column of the

second nave from the north side. All its sides are open, and furnished

with bronze railings, through which is seen an altar, raised on three or

four steps. In the centre of the altar is inserted a marble slab--a

highly prized relic, being the stone on which the Virgin placed her foot

on the occasion of her appearing in the cathedral in _propriâ personâ_

to the Archbishop San Ildefonzo. This peculiar favour bestowed on the

saint--and a robe with which she invested him with her own hands, were

bestowed, according to the historian Mariana, in recompense of his zeal

in opposing the doctrine of the two Frenchmen, Pelagio and Helvidio,

whose writings and preachings tended to shake the belief in the

virginity of the Saviour's mother. The occurrence is thus described:

"The night immediately preceding the feast of the Annunciation, the

archbishop entered the church, surrounded by several of the clergy. As

they entered, the cathedral appeared filled with a brilliant light.

Those who accompanied the saint, overcome with terror, turned and fled.

Remaining alone, he advanced to the foot of the high altar, and fell on

his knees; when, on the chair from which it was his custom to deliver

his exhortations to the people,--clothed in more than human

majesty--appeared the mother of Christ, who addressed him in the

following words:--'This gift, brought from Heaven, shall be the reward

of the virginity which thou hast preserved in thy body, joined with

purity of mind, and ardour of faith; and for having defended our

virginity.'

"Having thus spoken, she placed on him, with her own hands, a robe,

which she commanded him to wear on the celebration of her festivals, and

those of her Son."

The representations of this scene, from which is derived the claim of

superior sanctity assumed by this cathedral, are multiplied both in

marble and on canvas in all parts of the edifice, as well as in almost

all the churches of Toledo. In most cases, the execution of them has

been intrusted to unskilful hands. The best specimen is that executed in

marble over the small altar I have just noticed. It is remarkable for

the graceful and good-humoured expression of the Virgin, and the easy,

almost merry, demeanour of her celestial attendants.

The marble box which contains the Host is let into the altar-piece, of

which it appears to form a part of the surface, only projecting slightly

as its sides are convex. Turning on a pivot, it presents four different

fronts, each representing, in well executed relief, a different scene in

the Virgin's life.

LETTER X.

CAFÉS. WEDDING CEREMONY. CATHEDRAL CONTINUED. ALCAZAR HOSPITAL OF SANTA

CRUZ. CONVENT OF LA CONCEPTION. MYSTERIOUS CAVERN. CONVENT OF SANTA FE,

OR OF SANTIAGO. SONS-IN-LAW OF THE CID.

Toledo.

One of the first contrasts between this and other countries, which

forces itself on the observation, is the amalgamation of the different

classes of society in public places of resort. The grandee is far too

sure of his personal importance and consideration, to entertain any fear

of its being diminished by contact with those of inferior rank; and the

peasant is far too proud to importune his superiors by any indiscreet

efforts at familiarity.

At Burgos I found the _Gefe politico_, or governor of the province,

sipping his lemonade in the evening at the _café_; his elbow brushing

the back of a mayoral of a diligence, and surrounded by an assemblage of

all classes of the male inhabitants of the town. These cafés are curious

establishments; they are divided into two classes--the Café, properly

so called, and the Botilleria--in which tea and coffee are not usually

called for, but all the other refreshments of the café; such as

_helados_ (frozen beverages of all sorts), _sorbetes_ (ices), liqueurs,

wines, etc. These latter are the resort, in some towns, of both sexes,

and indeed the cafés also in a less degree. But the etiquette in these

things differs in the different provinces.

At Madrid, where foreign customs first penetrate, ladies are rarely seen

in these resorts; by which they are considerable losers. No doubt, were

the attractions of French cafés sufficiently powerful, your sex would

not have withered them, by their disdain, into the uncivilized dens

which they are. You are not of course invited by the billiard tables, or

by the allurements of black coffee and cognac; but were the waiters to

set before you a tumbler of frozen lemonade after a July evening's dusty

walk, you would speedily bring such habits into fashion.

Much as the refreshments of Spanish cafés have been celebrated, their

fame is surpassed by the reality. It is only when you have panted

through a southern summer's day, and breathed an atmosphere of fire,

that you are disposed to receive the illustration of the full sense of

the word refreshment; and it is then they hand you a brobdignag goblet,

brim full of frozen orange-water or lemonade, or snow-white

orgeat--which, from the imperceptible inroads made by the teaspoon on

its closing-up surface, appears likely to last you the whole night.

These and other similar luxuries, including the ices, at which those of

a Grange or Tortoni would melt with jealousy, are plentiful in second

and third-rate towns, and rank among the necessaries of life, rather

than as objects of indulgence. They are of course cheap, or it would not

answer.

The poor apply to the distributors of iced barley-water, who carry about

a sort of cask, strapped between their shoulders, and containing ice in

the centre, to maintain the frigidity of the beverage. By lowering and

advancing the left shoulder, the vendor pours the contents of the cask

through a small neck or pipe into the glasses, which he carries in a

flat basket with cellaret partitions. A tumbler of this costs a

halfpenny; its imbibing occupies two or three minutes, and assuages for

hours the sufferings of the thirstiest palate.

At Madrid, the cafés have each its political colour; except that called

del Principe, after the adjoining theatre. In this, politics are less

characterised, literature having here taken up her quarters. It is

probable that she is a less profitable customer, being habitually less

thirsty. Accordingly, on putting your head into the door, you see a

saloon far more brilliantly lighted up than the others; but the

peripatetic doctrines seem to prevail. Few persons are seated at the

tables; and instead of the more profitable wear and tear of broken

glasses, the proprietor probably finds substituted a thankless annual

item for worn out floors. In the same street there is a club; but this

is an exotic importation and on the exclusive plan, not quite of London,

but of the Paris _cercles_.

In the cafés of Toledo, on the days of _fiesta_, the fair sex

predominates, especially in summer. The great resort is, however, the

Zocodover, from nine to ten in the evening. This little irregularly

formed _plaza_ is crowded like an assembly-room, and possesses its rows

of trees, although a respectable oak would almost fill it.

A soirée has occasionally been known to be given in Toledo, but it is an

occurrence of much rarity, and mostly occasioned by some unusual

event,--the arrival of a public singer, or, still more unusual, a newly

made fortune. The other evening I was admitted to one, the pretext for

which was a wedding. This ceremony takes place at the residence of the

bride, and although a subsequent formality is necessary in the Church,

its delay does not defer the validity of the union, nor its

consummation. The wedding-day arrived, the families and friends of both

parties assemble at eight in the evening.

The bride was distinguishable by a white veil or _mantilla_ in the

middle seat of a sofa, between her mother and sister, who rose to

receive the guests. A narrow table had been dressed up into a temporary

altar, and furnished with a crucifix and candles. All the party being

arrived, a priest left his chair, and entered an adjoining room to robe;

on his reappearance the company rose and flocked round the bride and

bridegroom, who stood together before the priest, doing penance each

with a long wax-light in the right hand, held in a muslin handkerchief.

The ceremony lasts about ten minutes without any change of posture. The

priest departs to unrobe; the miserable bride and blushing bridegroom

receive felicitations; and all resume their seats, and look at each

other.

Presently chocolate was handed round, and an attempt at conversational

murmur commenced, afterwards ices. And now the minister took a formal

leave of the company, after complimenting the bride. Two or three other

holy men, obedient to the signal, carried out their interminable hats

before them: when a sudden revolution broke out. At the closing of the

door on the hindmost ecclesiastic the bridegroom rushed to the altar,

and grasping with one hand the crucifix, and with the other two of the

candlesticks, ran to the apartment that had assumed the character of

vestry, and deposited them there, followed by officious friends bearing

the remaining articles, until every awe-compelling symbol had

disappeared. One or two guitars were extracted from their hiding-places

under sofas, and sent forth careless but lively preludes. The men stood

up and circulated; the women talked and laughed; a quadrille was

speedily formed, and concluded; waltzing followed, and forfeits, and

whatever you like, and--"the arrangements were on a scale of costly

magnificence, and the festivities were prolonged, &c."

But these events are rare in Toledo. The every-day amusements consist in

an infamous theatre, and the promenade; this is only on Saints' days;

but these are almost every day. On six or seven occasions in the year,

these promenades are absolute events, and much looked forward to. It is

necessary to inquire which is the promenade patronised by the saint of

the great day, whoever he is, and take your place in the tide, for no

one absents himself.

Dresses for these celebrations are things pre-meditated; and the effect

produced, and all the little events and rencontres of the day form for

each belle, thrilling subjects of retrospection. _Mantillas_ may be

trimmed, and innocent plots woven for these occasions, without danger of

disappointment by clouds or storms; and instead of the Virgin being

implored that the sun may shine, who never disappoints them, she is

sometimes requested to inspire some ruse for a momentary escape from his

too searching effulgence.

Here may fair foreigners feast their eyes on fawn-coloured _majos_,

whose every step (although no more exalted beings than butchers,

postilions, horsedealers, and such like) would be envied by Antinous and

Apollo. I should advise no veils, nor winkings, nor blinkings on these

occasions, but eyes wide open--for never more (the Pyrenees once

repassed) will their orbits expand to the forms and costumes of

blackguards half so beautiful.

But these are subjects slightly unsuited to the interior of the

cathedral, of our presence in which we are evidently forgetful. The

Mozarabic Chapel, founded by Cardinal Ximenes de Cisneros, is situated

under the southern tower, and contains a Virgin and Child executed in

Mosaic, and a curious old fresco painting, representing the battle of

Oran, at which the Cardinal was victorious over the Arabs. This chapel

is set apart for the performance of the Mozarabic ritual, still retained

by a portion of the population of Toledo, and the exercise of which was

continued in several churches, until the closing of some of them at the

recent revolution.

The Arab conquerors of Spain exercised towards the religion of the

country, the most complete and liberal tolerance. All who preferred

remaining in the conquered towns to flight and exile, were allowed to

retain a sufficient number of places of worship for the free exercise of

their religion. On the subsequent introduction of the Italian missal,

those who retained the ancient gothic forms were called Mozarabes (mixti

Arabes, according to some, from their service being the same as that in

use during the co-existence together of the two creeds). A more probable

origin is attributed to the expression by some antiquaries, who derive

it from Muza, the name of the Moorish general. The mass of the

Christians who had taken refuge in the Asturias, applied the term to

their brethren, who preferred accepting from the Arabs what they

considered a degrading tolerance. The following singular mode of

decision was adopted for the purpose of settling the question between

the two missals.

The King, Alonzo the Sixth, the Archbishop Don Bernardo, and the court,

were among the advocates of the new missal, which, being adopted in

Rome, they were very desirous of establishing on the occasion of the

restoration of the Christian supremacy at Toledo. The mass of the

people were attached to their ancient forms. It was resolved that the

question should be decided by an appeal to a sort of neutral power; and

Mars was selected, probably on account of his being a person

disinterested in the affair. A champion was chosen by each party, and a

day appointed for settling the difference by single combat. Accordingly,

the court, the clergy, and the people being assembled, the

representatives of the two missals took their station, lance in rest,

and on the appointed signal spurred to the encounter. The ancient missal

was approved of by the warlike god; but the King and his party were

dissatisfied with the result, and resolved on another trial. A large

fire was lighted in the principal plaza, and the two missals were thrown

into it.

Again the ancient forms conquered, the rival parchment having caught the

flame and being drawn out in a blaze. The populace now commenced a cry

of triumph; but, to their great disappointment, the King, in his quality

of umpire, pronounced a judgment which he might as easily have put in

execution before the trials: namely, that considering that the Roman

Missal, although on fire, was not consumed, they were both equally

agreeable to the deity--they should therefore both be preserved, and

that some of the more ancient churches should continue the exercise of

the Mozarabic service, while the Roman ritual should be established in

the metropolitan temple, and in the greater number of the parishes.

Before we leave the cathedral, the cloister claims our attention. It is

a spacious and handsome quadrangle, inclosing a garden. The eastern wall

is adorned with excellent frescos of comparatively modern date, and all

bearing the same signature--Francisco Bayeu. There are seven subjects on

that side, being the number of intervals corresponding with the arcades,

and three more continuing down another side. The best are two, taken

from the history of Saint Casilda; and three from that of San Eugenio,

first archbishop of Toledo, martyrised in France. The arcades on the

east side are shut in by large pieces of sail-cloth, in order to protect

the paintings against the sun's rays.

The library of manuscripts belonging to this cathedral is distinguished

rather by the quality than the quantity of its contents. It is

approached by a staircase communicating with the cloister, and is a

handsome room. It contains a copy of the Talmud on the papyrus leaves,

and in the Coptic dialect. The following are also among its treasures:

The Book of Esther in Hebrew, on a single piece of parchment; two

bibles of the seventh century, one of which belonged to St. Isidore; the

missal used by Charles the Fifth in the monastery of Yuste; the poems of

Dante, manuscript of the poet's time, with illustrations; the laws of

Alonso the Tenth (surnamed the wise), and a volume of his poetical

works, with the music opposite those intended to be sung: two ancient

Chinese volumes, one on botany, the other on natural history, both

illustrated.

The next edifice I visited was the Alcazar, the largest and most

conspicuous building in Toledo. I expected to find there some Arab and

Roman remains, having so read in more than one tour. It was not until

some time after my visit that I obtained the information that the

Moorish palace occupied a different site. The present comparatively

modern building is principally of two epochs. On the east is the

original portion erected by Alonzo the Sixth. The entire north and south

fronts are probably additions of Philip the Second. The whole partakes

of a divided character between castle and palace: it is not remarkable

for any architectural merit, possessing neither beauty as a palace, nor

solidity as a fortress; and having been occupied as a military position

during the war of the succession, and more recently in that of

independence, its being already a ruin, before its modern appearance

would seem to legitimize such a state, causes no surprise. But its

position is superb. Occupying the most elevated point of the town, it

far exceeds the whole by the immense height of its walls, and commands

an admirable view of the surrounding country. The only object deserving

notice in this ruin is a colossal staircase, which occupies an entire

side of the court,--a length of about two hundred and fifty feet,--and

is ornamented by a light and elegant colonnade. This edifice ceased to

be a palace on the final establishment of the court at Madrid, and after

some time became the manufactory whence issued the famous silk and

velvet brocades, the fabrication of which has now ceased, but with which

Toledo formerly supplied the wardrobes of the court, and the

well-garnished sacristies of Spain's wealthiest cathedrals.

Descending from the Alcazar through the Plaza de Zocodover, and thence

towards the bridge of Alcantara, a few yards from the Plaza bring us in

view of the façade of the Hospital of Santa Cruz, or "de los niños

expositos,"--foundling hospital. The institution owes its origin to the

Archbishop, Don Pedro Gonzalez de Mendoza, called the Great Cardinal of

Spain. Although death prevented his witnessing the execution of his

project, his fortune, administered by his next relatives and

executors,--the Queen Isabella, and the Duke of Infantado,--was

employed in the erection of the buildings, and in the endowment of the

establishment. The plans and conditions were not even drawn up until

after the Cardinal's death; and they were never entirely put in

execution. The church consists of one nave, of a length out of all

proportion to its width and elevation. It was to have been crossed by

another of the same proportions, with the exception of the elevation,

which was to have been eighty feet in both. This combined with the

length--about three hundred and fifty feet, as is seen in the existing

nave,--would have rendered the edifice one of the most extraordinary in

existence. The altar was to have stood in the centre of the intersection

of the two naves. As it is, the long bare interior looks as though it

had been destined for a picture gallery or library, but rather for the

latter from the low-coved roof of cedar, and from the inadequate

distribution of light. To the left of the altar is seen a portrait of

the founder; and on the opposite side, about a hundred feet further down

the nave, a large Adoration,--a superior painting, especially with

regard to the colouring: the author unknown.

There are two large courts surrounded by arcades: one of them is a model

of lightness and beauty, and contains in one of its angles an admirably

ornamented staircase. The architect of the Santa Cruz was Enrique Egas,

who also built the celebrated hospital of the same name at Valladolid.

He designed the whole according to the style then introduced, after the

pointed style had been abandoned, and which in Spain received vulgarly

the appellation of Plateresco, from the ornaments resembling the

embossing of a silversmith. It is also confounded with the Renacimiento.

The Plateresco style, from the too great liberty it afforded the

architect, of setting aside the classic models, and following his own

inventions, has produced in Spain, more than in any other country, (from

there being at that period more wealth devoted to the construction of

public monuments there than elsewhere,) the evil effects resulting from

ill-guided and unrestrained powers of imagination. Fortunately, however,

a few architects existed whose more correct taste kept them within some

bounds; and who, in deserting the old models, replaced them by a style,

if less pure, yet by no means inelegant. The architect Egas appears to

have partaken of both natures at different moments; for, while his court

above-mentioned is a specimen of consummate grace and good taste, the

entrance front of the building is one of the bad examples of the style

of the period.

The establishment covers a large space, about half the extent occupied

by the double palace of the Arab kings of Toledo. The remainder of the

site contains two convents,--that of Santiago, and that of the

Conception. The hospital was conducted formerly on a scale proportionate

to the extent of its accommodation; but it is now no more than a

reminiscence; the revenues having probably been incorporated in the

recent registrations of national property. The number of inmates at

present enjoying the benefits of the foundation amounts to fourteen

only.

The Convent of la Conception adjoins the hospital of Santa Cruz. From

the exterior are seen two churches, placed in close parallel contact,

and each composed of a single nave. Both are evidently very ancient, one

being in the Arab style; but the form of the other renders it probable

that it is the more ancient of the two. You are disappointed after being

shown this last, on being informed that the Moorish portion is forbidden

ground, being appropriated by the nuns to their private use, and

possessing no communication with the adjoining edifice, but a curtained

grating, through which its secluded inmates assist at religious

services. In the public church, a singular ornament figures on a

conspicuous part of the wall near the entrance; it is the carcass of a

large crocodile, fixed high enough to be out of reach, although no one

would be likely to purloin so unwieldy a curiosity. We are told the

animal frequented the neighbourhood of Toledo; where, under cover of the

pine forests, which formerly extended far over this mountainous region,

its existence had long filled with terror the few travellers whom their

mercantile pursuits compelled to pass within its accustomed haunts: that

at length a knight (it was in the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella)

clothed in a full suit of armour, rode forth from Toledo, fully resolved

to try conclusions with the monster, in order if possible to immortalize

his name throughout the surrounding regions, by ridding them of so dire

a scourge. The battle took place, and victory declaring for the knight,

whose name unfortunately does not figure in the legend,--he assembled

the peasants, and had his enemy's carcass borne in triumph to Toledo,

where he made a present of it to the convent.

While on the subject of traditions, it is worth while adverting to a

cavern, the entrance of which exists in this part of the town; and which

is said to extend to a distance of eight miles, passing under the Tagus.

It is related that somewhat less than a century back, the government

ordered this cavern to be explored; but the exploring party was met at

the commencement of the descent by so violent a gust of wind, as to

extinguish all the torches, and the courage of the explorers, for the

attempt was never resumed. The failure by no means contributed to

diminish the mysterious qualities attributed to the cavern, on the

subject of which the wildest notions are currently entertained.

A worthy and excellent native of Toledo, to whose antiquarian enthusiasm

(a quality doubly valuable here from its scarcity) I am indebted for

some information and much entertainment, undertook one day to enlighten

me with regard to the origin of this subterranean curiosity. Commencing

by warning my credulity against the innumerable fables current on the

subject, and which only resembled each other in their absurdity and

impossibility, he added, "The real fact is this,--the cavern is the work

of Hercules, who excavated it for the accommodation of the assemblies of

the people, whom he instructed in the elements of magic."

The convent of Santiago, or of Santa Fé, or of Las monjas santiagistas,

or Las cavalleras, occupies the portion of the ancient Moorish alcazar,

remaining from the site of the two last-mentioned buildings. It is built

round two courts, one of which is divided into planted parterres,

intersected with brick-paved walks. The architecture of this first court

is very simple; it consists of a plain arcade of semicircular arches

supported on square piers, and a repetition of the same on the first

story. From this court opens the parlour of the Commendadora or abbess,

and the choir, which forms a continuation of the public chapel. There is

also under the arcade a folding door, which, when opened exhibits a

collection of small pictures attached to it, as on the leaves of an

album, and others suspended against the portion of wall it encloses. The

centre painting of these last represents the Mater dolorosa weeping over

the dead body of her Son. It has much of the manner of Alonzo Cano, and

is an admirable painting, more especially the dead body: the superior,

however, did not know the name of the artist. She complained bitterly of

the loss of a first-rate picture of the Divino Morales, which formerly

occupied the place of her little collection, and which was taken

possession of by Marshal Soult.

The second court is highly ornamental owing to the elegance of its

architecture, and its magnificent proportions; it is a long quadrangle;

the pillars below are very lofty, and support the gallery above without

intermediate arches. They are not of a pure design, the shafts being too

long for their diameter: in other respects they imitate the Tuscan

order. Those of the arcade above are Ionic; but the effect here is

destroyed by walls and windows, which have been constructed in their

intervals, for the purpose of converting the open gallery into a warmer

corridor. The walls below are clothed to the height of about four feet

with the _azulejos_, or porcelain mosaic, of the sort originally

employed by the Arabs, and from which the ornament took its name, being

blue and white, without any other colour.

Opening from this court is the Sala Capitular a handsome saloon used on

occasions of elections of the Commendadora, or other solemnities, which

do not take place in the church. It contains a portrait of the sister of

St. Ferdinand,--a member of the community; and a curious picture of St.

Iago leading to victory the christian army of Don Ramiro the First. In

fulfilment of a promise made to the king the night preceding the battle

of Albayde, the apostle, according to the historians, led the army in

person, mounted on a milk-white charger, which cantered along at a

sufficient elevation over the heads of the combatants, to be visible to

all; thus inspiring, simultaneously, his _protégés_ with confidence, and

the Moors with terror. From that victory the Spanish war-cry of Santiago

is said to derive its origin.

The buildings on the north side of the large court stand on the brink of

a perpendicular rock, overhanging the _faubourg_ on the Madrid side of

Toledo, and commanding right and left the luxuriant _vega_, to an extent

of from forty to fifty miles. Over the highest story of this portion of

the building, and forming a continuation of the rock, a Belvidere has

been constructed, the roof of which is supported by piers, leaving all

the sides open: it forms a promenade of about a hundred feet in length,

by twenty-five in width.

The regulations of this convent are much less strict than those observed

by all other religious communities. It would not otherwise have been

possible to obtain permission to visit the establishment in detail. The

_monjas cavalleras_ (knight-nuns) of the military order of Santiago,

take the white veil only, and not the black. If a nun inherits a

property, she obtains permission from the council of military orders,

sitting at Madrid, to absent herself from the convent for the purpose of

transacting all necessary business. The same permission may be obtained

in cases of illness. In taking the vows there is no prostration beneath

the veil. The novice crosses her hands in a kneeling posture, and takes

the oath on the Gospel. One is struck by something invincibly puzzling

in this amalgamation of military regulation with religious hierarchy and

female seclusion. They call themselves knights; their abbess, commander.

The king, as Grand Master of the military orders (since Ferdinand the

Fifth) of Calatrava, Alcantara, and Santiago, is their recognised chief;

and whenever military mass is required to be performed, the troops march

into their chapel to beat of drum.

I was even assured that these recluses are not obliged to refuse a hand

offered for a waltz, if it belongs to an arm having an epaulette at its

other extremity; and that such scenes are known to occur in the presence

of the commandress herself.

Our party, formed for the visit to this convent, having been presented

to the superior, she gave directions to a nun to show us every part of

the establishment. This sister, who, we were told, bore the title and

rank of serjeantess (sargenta), possessed the remains of great beauty,

and her (probably) forty summers had not injured her commanding and

graceful figure. No sooner had she ushered us into the choir than she

left us for an instant, and returned with her mantle of ceremony,--the

costume in which they take the vow, and in which they appear on all

occasions of solemnity. It was with evident satisfaction that she

performed this part of her duties of cicerone; nor was it to be wondered

at. No costume could have been invented better calculated to set off her

natural advantages. It is composed of a sort of white serge, and

appears to have no seam. Attached round the shoulders it sweeps the

ground with a train of four or five feet. A cross of scarlet cloth,

bound with dark brown edges, and of a graceful form, figures on the

portion which covers the left arm from the shoulder to the elbow. The

white cap, gathered all over into minute plaits, rises into two parallel

ridges, which passing over to the back of the head, imitate the form of

a helmet. Two large lappets descend to the shoulders and complete the

costume, which is entirely white, with the exception of the cross. In

walking round the choir to display to us the effect of this dress, the

fair _santiagista_ was a model of majesty and grace.

To judge from her replies to our questions, it would appear that the

system of softening the severity of monastic seclusion, and of partial

and occasional communication with the beings of the outer world, instead

of producing more contentment in the minds of the recluses, may possibly

tend to unsettle them, and render them more dissatisfied with their lot.

When asked how long she had inhabited the convent, she replied with an

unrestrained and most pathetic inflation of the chest, more eloquent

than the loudest complaint--"A very long time; nearly twenty years." The

white mantle, she told us, was an object the sight of which always gave

birth to serious reflections; since it was destined not even to quit her

after death, but to serve also for her shroud.

[Illustration: COSTUME OF A MILITARY NUN.]

The nun's choir is entirely separated from the public chapel, with the

exception of two gratings, which admit to the latter the sound of the

organ, and through which the nuns have a better view of the church than

the public can obtain of the choir, this being less lighted, and on a

lower level. Near the choir a small oratory of no greater dimensions

than about seven feet square, appears to be the only remains extant of

the Arab buildings, which occupied the site. The ceiling is

hemispherical, and ornamented in the Arab style; and one of the walls

contains a niche surrounded by Arab tracery. I should mention likewise a

fountain in the garden, which bears a similar character.

These nuns live less in community with each other than those of other

convents; in fact, their life resembles in many respects that of

independent single ladies. Each inhabits her own suite of apartments,

and keeps her own servant. Her solitary repasts are prepared in her own

separate kitchen, and at the hour chosen by herself. Once a-year only,

on the occasion of the festival of the patron Apostle, the community

assembles at dinner. The common refectory is at present let to

strangers, together with other portions of the convent. The novice who

wishes to enter this convent must be of good family, (proof of noble

descent being demanded up to grand-fathers and grandmothers inclusive)

and possessed of property. Of the entrance of the present _commendadora_

into the convent thirty years since, a romantic story is related. She

belongs to a family of rank in the province of La Mancha,--and it is

worth mentioning, that she recollects Espartero's father, who, as she

states, served a neighbouring family in the capacity of cowherd.

A match, _de convenance_, had been arranged for her by her parents, on

the accomplishment of which they insisted the more rigidly from her

being known to entertain an attachment, the object of which was

disapproved. No resistance being of any avail, the wedding-day was

named; and she was taken to Toledo for the purpose of making the

necessary purchases for the occasion. It so happened that she was

received by a relative, a member of the community of Santiagistas; and

whether she confided her pains to the bosom of this relative, and

yielded to her persuasions--nuns being usually given to proselytism; or

perhaps acting on the impulse of the moment; she declared on the morning

after her arrival her resolution never to quit the convent; preferring,

as she resolutely affirmed, an entire life of seclusion, to an union

with a man she detested. Instead, therefore, of the wedding dresses, a

_manton capitular_ was the only ornament purchased.

The property of this establishment remaining for the most part in

possession of the respective original possessors, and not forming a

common stock, the conscientious scruples of the revolution made an

exception in its favour, owing to which it is not reduced to so

destitute a condition as that of the other unclosed convents. The nuns

of San Clemente--the principal convent of Toledo, and of which the

abbess alone possessed private property, are reduced to a life of much

privation, as are also those of all the other convents. Some obtain

presents in return for objects of manual industry, such as dolls'

chairs, and other similar toys. Those of San Clemente had, and still

have, a reputation for superior skill in confectionary. A specimen of

their talent, of which I had an opportunity of judging in the house of a

friend of the abbess, appeared to me to warrant the full extent of their

culinary fame. They do not, however, exercise this art for gain. At San

Clemente, and no doubt at all the others, the new government--besides

the confiscation of all rents and possessions in money and land--seized

the provisions of corn and fruits which they found on searching the

attics of the building.

Immediately below the ruined modern Alcazar, and facing the Expositos,

is seen a vast quadrangular building, each front of which presents from

twenty to thirty windows on a floor. It is without ornament, and is

entered by a square doorway, which leads to an interior court. It is now

an inn, called Fonda de la Caridad, but was originally the residence of

the Cid, who built it simultaneously with the erection of the Alcazar,

by Alonzo the Sixth, shortly after the taking of the town; Ruy Diaz

being at that time in high favour, and recently appointed first Alcalde

of Toledo, and governor of the palace. It was on the occasion of the

first cortez held in this town, that the hero demanded a formal audience

of Alonzo, in which he claimed justice against his two sons-in-law, the

counts of Carrion.

These were two brothers, who had married the two Countesses of Bivar. On

the occasion of the double marriage, a brilliant party had assembled at

the Cid's residence, where all sorts of festivities had succeeded each

other. The two bridegrooms, finding themselves, during their presence in

this knightly circle, in positions calculated to test their mettle,

instead of proving themselves, by a display of unequalled valour and

skill, to be worthy of the choice by which they had been distinguished,

gave frequent proofs of deficiency in both qualities; and, long before

the breaking up of the party, their cowardice had drawn upon them

unequivocal signs of contempt from many of the company, including even

their host. Obliged to dissimulate their vexation as long as they

remained at the château of the Cid, they concerted a plan of vengeance

to be put in execution on their departure.

They took formal leave, and departed with their brides for their

estate, followed by a brilliant suite. No sooner, however, had they

reached the first town, than, inventing a pretext, they despatched all

the attendants by a different route, and proceeded on their journey,

only accompanied by their wives. Towards evening the road brought them

to a forest, which appeared to offer facilities for putting their

project in execution. Here they quitted the highway, and sought a

retired situation.

It happened that an attendant of the Countesses, surprised at the

determination of the party to divide routes, had been led by curiosity

to follow them unobserved. This follower, after having waited some time

for their return to the high-road, penetrated into the midst of the

wood, in order to discover the cause of the delay. He found the two

brides lying on the ground, almost without clothing, and covered with

blood, and learned that they had just been left by their husbands, who

had been scourging them almost to death.