SEVILLE.
LETTER XV.
JOURNEY TO SEVILLE. CHARACTER OF THE SPANIARDS. VALLEY OF THE RHONE.
Marseille.
In order to reach the south of Spain, the longest route is that which,
passing through France, leads by Bayonne to the centre of the northern
frontier of the Peninsula, which it then traverses from end to end. It
is not the longest in actual distance; but in regard to time, and to
fatigue, and (for all who do not travel by Diligence), by far the
longest, with regard to expense. Another route, longer, it is true, in
distance, but shorter with respect to all these other considerations, is
that by Lyons and Marseille; from either of which places, the journey
may be made entirely by steam.
The shortest of all, and in every respect, is that by the Gibraltar
mail, which leaves London and Falmouth once a week. This is a quicker
journey than that through France, even for an inhabitant of France,
supposing him resident at Paris, and to proceed to England _viâ le
Hâvre_. But there is an objection to this route for a tourist. Desirous
of visiting foreign scenes, he will find it too essentially an English
journey--direct, sure, and horribly business-like and monotonous. You
touch, it is true, at Lisbon, where during a few hours, you may escape
from the beef and Stilton cheese, if not from the Port wine; and where
you may enjoy the view of some fine scenery; but all the rest is
straight-forward, desperate paddling night and day; with the additional
objection, that being surrounded by English faces, living on English
fare, and listening to English voices, the object of the traveller--that
of quitting England--is not attained; since he cannot be said to have
left that country, until he finds himself quarrelling with his rapacious
boatman on the pier of the glittering Cadiz.
Although this arrangement may possess the merit of the magic transition
from England to Andalucia, which, it must be allowed, is a great
one--many will prefer being disembarked in France; looking forward,
since there is a time for all things, to a still more welcome
disembarkation on England's white shores, when the recollected
vicissitudes of travel shall have disposed them to appreciate more than
ever her comforts and civilization, and to be more forgiving to her
defects; and, should they not be acquainted with the banks of the Rhone
below Lyons, adopting that equally commodious and infinitely more varied
course.
In fact, there are few who will not agree with me in pronouncing this
the best way, for the tourist, of approaching Spain. It is not every
one, who will not consider the gratifications which the inland territory
of the Peninsula may offer to his curiosity too dearly purchased by the
inconveniences inseparable from the journey. Add to this the superiority
of the maritime provinces, with scarcely any exception, in point of
climate, civilization, and attractions of every sort. Valencia,
Barcelona, Malaga, and Cadiz are more agreeable places of residence, and
possess more resources than even Madrid; but their chief advantage is a
difference of climate almost incredible, from the limited distance which
separates them from the centre of the Peninsula. The Andalucian coast
enjoys one of the best climates in the world; while the Castiles,
Aragon, and La Mancha can hardly be said to possess the average
advantages in that respect; owing to the extremes of cold and heat,
which characterize their summer and winter seasons, and which, during
autumn and spring, are continually alternating in rapid transition.
Andalucia unites in a greater degree than the other maritime provinces,
the advantages which constitute their superiority over the rest of
Spain. It does more, for it presents to the stranger a combination of
the principal features of interest, which render the Peninsula more
especially attractive to the lover of travel. It is, in fact, to Spain
what Paris is to France; Moscow and Petersburg to Russia. England,
Italy, and Germany are not fit subjects for illustrating the comparison;
their characteristic features of attraction and interest being
disseminated more generally throughout all their provinces or states.
Whoever wishes to find Spain herself, unalloyed, in her own character
and costume, and in her best point of view, should disembark in
Andalucia.
There, unlike the Castiles, and the still more northern provinces, in
which only the earth and air remain Spanish, and those not the best
Spanish--where all the picturesque and original qualities that
distinguish the population, are fast fading away--the upper classes in
their manners and costumes, and the Radicals in their politics, striving
to become French--there, on the contrary, all is natural and national in
its half-Arab nationality: and certainly nature and nationality have
given proof of taste in selecting for their last refuge, the most
delicious of regions; where earth and heaven have done their utmost to
form an abode, worthy of the most beautiful of the human, as well as the
brute creation.
I will not pause to inquire whether the reproach be justly addressed by
the other Spaniards, to the inhabitants of this province, of indolence
and love of pleasure, and of a disposition to deceitfulness, concealed
beneath the gay courtesy of their manners; it would, indeed, be a
surprising, a miraculous exception to the universal system of
compensations that we recognise as governing the world, had not this
people some prominent defect, or were they not exposed to some peculiar
element of suffering, to counterbalance in a degree the especial and
exclusive gifts heaped upon them. By what other means could their
perfect happiness be interfered with? Let us, then, allow them their
defects--the necessary shade in so brilliant a picture--defects which,
in reducing their felicity to its due level, are easily fathomed, and
their consequences guarded against, by sojourners amongst them, in whose
eyes their peculiar graces, and the charm of their manner of life, find
none the less favour from their being subject to the universal law of
humanity. They cannot be better painted in a few words, than by the
sketch, drawn by the witty and graceful Lantier, from the inhabitants
of Miletus. "Les Milesiens," he says, "sont aimables. Ils emportent,
peut-être, sur les Athéniens" (read "Castillans") "par leur politesse,
leur aménité, et les agrémens de leur esprit. On leur reproche avec
raison cette facilité--cette mollesse de moeurs, qui prend quelquefois
l'air de la licence. Tout enchante les sens dans ce séjour fortuné--la
pureté de l'air--la beauté des femmes--enfin leur musique--leurs danses,
leurs jeux--tout inspire la volupté, et pénêtre l'âme d'une langueur
délicieuse. Les Zéphirs ne s'y agitent que pour repandre au loin
l'esprit des fleurs et des plantes, et embaumer l'air de leurs suaves
odeurs."
This passage is, word for word, so exactly applicable to the Andalucians
and their land, that it is difficult to imagine another people to have
sat for the portrait, nor to a more talented painter. It is a pity that
the author I quote, is a rarity in modern libraries: owing, perhaps, to
his descriptions being at times rather warm, or, as his compatriots
would say, _un peu regence_.
In Spain, the country of proverbs, they are very fond of summing up, by
the aid of a few epithets, the distinctive character of each province.
As bad qualities frequently predominate in these estimates, it is of
course usual for the individual, who undertakes the instruction of a
foreigner in this department of knowledge, to omit the mention of his
own province. After all, the defects attributed to the inhabitants of
one portion of a country by those of another, are not to be taken for
granted without considerable reservation; allowance must be made for
rivalry and jealousies. Almost every country affords examples of these
wholesale accusations laid to the charge of particular counties or
divisions of territory. Thus the character usually attributed in Spain
to the Andalucians, is that of a people lively, gay, of extreme polish
and amiability of manners, but false and treacherous. The Galicians are
said to be stupid and heavy, but remarkably honest; the Catalonians
courageous but quarrelsome, _mauvais coucheurs_. No doubt in some of
these instances, the general impression may be borne out to a certain
extent, by some particular class of the denizens of the province alluded
to; but such distinctions are rarely perceptible among the educated
classes. It is perhaps less easy in Spain than elsewhere, to establish
these classifications at all successfully. Contradictions will be met
with at every step, calculated to shake their infallibility. To our eye,
as foreigners, there are sufficient peculiarities belonging to the
nation universally, and respecting which our knowledge is far from being
complete, without attempting to classify a greater or smaller list of
subdivisions, the appreciation of which would require a prolonged
residence in the country.
Spain is looked upon by the greater number of strangers as a land
delivered over to depredation, and highly insecure. In fact, it is
surprising that such should not be the fate of a country in which
instruction is limited, and where, as I myself have witnessed, servants
may be known to be in the daily practice of stealing without their
dismissal being by any means a necessary result. It is surprising, that
in the absence of any strong natural objection to theft, any honesty
should exist in the presence of temptation; yet I know no country where
there is more, if I may form an opinion from the individuals of whom I
have had an opportunity of judging. However, as an instance of the
contradictions one meets with, the following event was represented as
having taken place in one of the provinces in which I had received the
favourable impression above-mentioned.
A ci-devant colonel, just arrived in Madrid, related the fact to me one
evening, on which, as chance would have it, I found him at supper.
Immediately on my entering the room he commenced complaining of the lack
of silver articles of necessity for the table, and accounted for it in
the following manner. He had recently arrived with his family from a
provincial town, in which he had filled a government situation. Shortly
before his departure he had invited all his friends to a leave-taking
repast; and after the departure of his guests nearly two dozen articles
of plate were missing. "In packing up," I observed, "no doubt some
dishonest domestic--" "No, no," he interrupted, "they were all pocketed
by my guests."
That the man in office should have conciliated the attachment of all his
acquaintances to such a degree, as that all should conceive
simultaneously the idea of preserving a _souvenir_ of his person, and
that in so delicate and unostentatious a manner,--was not possible. As,
therefore, I still retained my impression of the honesty of the lower
classes, and as the sufferer appeared to treat the occurrence as one by
no means extraordinary, I came to the conclusion, that--either Spanish
integrity, unlike that of other nations, must rise in an inverse ratio
to men's fortunes and stations; or that the author of the anecdote had
been tempted, by the desire of masking the (perhaps unavoidable)
deficiencies in his supper service, to have recourse to his inventive
talent, at the expense of his absent friends' reputation.
I believe it must be allowed that with respect to the disregard of the
rights of proprietorship, of which the lower classes are accused, there
are sufficient instances on record to counterbalance, in some degree,
my personal experience; but there is this to be urged in favour of that
class of culprits, where such are met with, that their mode of operation
is far more manly and courageous than that of the depredators of some
other climes--by which means they obtain also the full reputation of
their misdeeds. There may scarcely be said to be anything mean or
degrading in their manner of thieving: and their system is itself a
proof that they see no sin in it. They take to the mountains, and
declare open war against those whom they consider the unjust
monopolizers of wealth.
Instances of this sort are no doubt frequent in Spain; in Toledo they
relate that, some years since, the passes of Estremadura were occupied
by one of the most formidable and best organized of these bands, under
the orders of a female. Various versions were given of this woman's
history; but the one most accredited accounted in the following manner
for her having adopted the profession of freebooter. A young lady of
rank had disappeared from her family residence, leaving no trace by
which to guide conjecture as to her fate. It was therefore presumed she
had been kidnapped. The event, however, had already long ceased to be a
subject of conversation in the district, when three or four years after,
a traveller, who had escaped from an attack of banditti, announced the
fact of their being commanded by a woman. Although well disguised, her
voice, and delicate figure had betrayed her sex. The fact was
subsequently confirmed by positive discoveries; and, at length,
confiding in the alteration time and her mode of life had produced in
her appearance, she ceased to make a mystery of the circumstance, and
headed the attacks, mounted usually on a large black horse. Her age and
beauty coinciding with the description given of the young countess who
had disappeared some years previously, gave rise to the supposition of
their identity. The band has been since dispersed, and many of them
captured; but their chief has contrived to escape, and it is probable
the truth respecting her may never be divulged.
It is said she at times exercised more pitiless cruelties than are
usually practised by the male chiefs of the regular banditti; and that,
after such acts,--as though conscience-stricken,--she would, by way of
compensation, allow parties to pass unmolested.
From such instances as these a portion of the Spanish population must be
considered amenable to the charge brought against them; but there are
peculiarities of a different stamp, which mark the Spaniards in
general, and are more deserving of notice in a summary of the national
characteristic qualities. It is impossible, for instance, not to be
struck by the intelligence and tact, independent of cultivation, which
pervade all classes. Whether the denizens of these southern climes are
indebted to the purity of their atmosphere, for this gift of rapid
perception, in which they surpass our northern organizations, or to
whatever cause they may owe it; the fact leads to involuntary
speculation on what might have been the results, in a country so
distinguished, besides, by its natural advantages, had the Arab
supremacy lasted until our days. At a period when education was
generally held in no estimation in Europe, the first care of almost
every sovereign of that race was usually directed to the establishment,
or improvement, of the public schools, in which the sciences and
languages were taught at the royal expense. No town being unprovided
with its schools, it is difficult to imagine to what degree of
superiority over the rest of Europe the continuation of such a system
would have raised a people so gifted as to be capable of supplying, by
natural intelligence, the almost universal absence of information and
culture.
You continually meet with such instances of uncultivated intelligence as
the following. I was occupied in sketching in a retired part of the
environs of Madrid, when a ragged, half-naked boy, not more than ten or
eleven years of age, and employed in watching sheep, having to pass near
me, stopped to examine my work. He remained for nearly a quarter of an
hour perfectly still, making no movement except that of his eyes, which
continually travelled from the paper to the landscape, and back from
that to the paper. At length, going away, he exclaimed, "Que paciencia,
Dios mio!"
The following is an example of the absence of cultivation, where it
might have been expected to exist. A student leaving the university of
Toledo, at the age of twenty-seven, told me he had studied there eleven
years, and had that day received his diploma of barrister, which, when
sent to Madrid, where it would be backed by the sanction of the
minister, would authorise him to practise his profession in any town
throughout Spain. In the course of the same conversation, he asked me
whether Russia was not situated in the Mediterranean, and whether
England did not form a portion of that country.
Tact and good manners are so universal among the lower classes, that a
more familiar intercourse than we are accustomed to, can be allowed
between persons of different ranks. Those of the highest class are seen,
during a journey, dining at the same table with their servants; and on
all other occasions entering into conversation with them. This
intercourse of good nature and good understanding, universally existing
between superiors and inferiors, and which is never known to degenerate
into familiarity, would preserve Spain a long time from revolutions of a
popular origin--were she left to herself. The Spaniard of the lowest
station has as considerable an idea of his personal consequence as a
marquis, and maintains with his equals all the forms of high breeding.
If you stop to listen to the discussions of a knot of ragged children
playing at marbles, you will hear them address each other by the title
of Señor.
The urbanity and polish which prevails throughout all classes is
genuine, and the result of good-nature. This is proved by their
readiness to render all sorts of services as soon as they are acquainted
with you, and even before; and _that_ notwithstanding their suspicion
and dislike of strangers, a disposition for which they have ample cause.
I don't mean to include services which might incur pecuniary outlay; it
would be something like requesting the loan of the Highlander's
inexpressibles. Although even of this a remarkable instance has fallen
under my observation,--the capability existing,--but they will spare no
trouble nor time: doubling the value of the obligation by the graceful
and earnest manner of rendering it.
Should your reception by a Spaniard be marked by coldness, it is
generally to be accounted for by a very excusable feeling. The Spaniard
is usually deeply preoccupied by the unfortunate state of his country.
This subject of continual reflection operating on a character singularly
proud, but which is at the same time marked by a large share of
modesty,--qualities by no means incompatible,--occasions him a sensation
when in presence of a foreigner nearly approaching to suffering. He
feels a profound veneration for the former glories of his land, and
admiration of its natural superiority; but he is distrustful of his
modern compatriots, of whom he has no great opinion. His anxiety is,
therefore, extreme with regard to the judgment which a Frenchman or
Englishman may have formed respecting his countrymen and country: and he
is not at his ease until satisfied on that point; fearing that the
backward state of material civilization may be attributed by them to
hopeless defects in the national character, and diminish their respect
for his country. He is restored to immediate peace of mind by a delicate
compliment, easily introduced, on the ancient grandeur of Spain, or the
eternal splendour of her skies and soil, and especially by an expression
of disapproval of the influence which foreign governments seem desirous
of arrogating to themselves over her political destinies.
Should the stranger delay the application of some such soothing balm, he
will not hesitate to provoke it, by ingeniously leading the conversation
in the direction he wishes, and then heaping abuse and censure on his
compatriots.
The interference of foreign governments in their politics is, in fact,
one of the consequences of the present national inferiority, the most
galling to their feelings. This is accounted for by the high
independence, which is one of the principal features of their character,
and is observable in the most insignificant events of their daily life.
The practice which prevails in some countries, of meddling each with his
(and even _her_) neighbour's concerns, and of heaping vituperation where
a man's conduct or opinions differ from his who speaks, is one of the
most repugnant to the Spanish nature. If a Spaniard hears such a
conversation, he stares vacantly, as though he comprehended nothing; and
the natural expression traceable on not a few countenances and attitudes
may be translated, "I don't interfere in your affairs, pray don't
trouble yourself about mine."
It is curious to trace this in their favourite sayings, or proverbs
(_refrans_), by which the national peculiarities of character are
admirably depicted. Of these no people possess so complete a collection.
The following is one which expresses the feeling to which I allude:
El Marques de Santa Cruz hizó
Un palacio en el Viso:
Porque pudó, y porque quisó.
or, translated,
What could induce Sir Santa Cruz to
Build a house the Viso close to?
--He had the money, and he chose to.
I place, in the translation, the edifice close to the Viso, instead of
upon it, as in the original text. I doubt whether any apology is
necessary for this poetical licence, by which the intention of the
proverb undergoes no alteration. It is true, a house may be close to a
hill without being erected upon it; but if, as in this instance, it is
on the top of the hill, it is most certainly close to it likewise.
The submission of the Spaniards to the despotism of etiquette and custom
in trifles, does not (otherwise than apparently) constitute a
contradiction to this independence of character. However that may be,
the breach of all other laws meets with easier pardon, than that of the
laws of custom. This code is made up of an infinity of minute
observances, many of which escape the notice of a foreigner, until
accustomed by degrees to the manners of those who surround him. He will
not, for instance, discover, until he has made himself some few
temporary enemies, that no greater insult can be offered to a person of
rank, or in authority, than saluting him in a cloak _embozado_--the
extremity thrown over the shoulder.--A similar neglect is not pardoned
either by the fair sex. The minutest peculiarities in dress are
observed, and if at all discordant with the received mode of the day,
incur universal blame. The situation of a stranger is, in fact, at first
scarcely agreeable in a country in which the smallest divergence from
established customs attracts general attention and criticism. This does
not, however, interfere with the ready good-nature and disposition to
oblige met with, as I said before, on all occasions.
In some instances the attachment to external forms operates
advantageously. Such is that of the picturesque practice prevailing in
many of the provinces, of assuming the quality of the _Beata_. In
Toledo, certain peculiarities in the toilette of one of a group of young
ladies attracted my curiosity. She was apparently about seventeen;
pretty, but by no means remarkably so for a Spaniard, and appeared to be
in deep mourning. Whenever, in speaking, a movement of her right hand
and arm lifted up her mantilla, a japanned leather sash was exposed to
view, of about two inches in width, an end of which hanging from the
right side, reached rather lower than the knee. On the right sleeve,
half-way between the shoulder and the elbow, was fixed a small silver
plate, called an _escudo_, and a rosary was worn round her neck.
I was informed, on inquiry, that she was _una beata_; and being still in
the dark, my informant related her story. He commenced by the inquiry,
whether I had heard of a young man being drowned four months previously
in the Tagus. I replied that I had heard of thirty or forty; for he
referred to the bathing season, during which, as the river is sown with
pits and precipices, and unprovided with humane societies, accidents
occur every day. He then named the victim, of whose death I had in fact
heard. He was a youth of the age of twenty, and the _novio_ (intended)
of the young lady in black. On hearing suddenly, and without
preparation, the fatal news, she had been seized with a profuse vomiting
of blood, and had continued dangerously ill during several weeks. She
was now convalescent, and had made her appearance in society for the
first time.
My informant added, on my repeating the inquiry respecting the costume,
that it is the custom for a young lady, on recovering from a serious
illness, to offer herself to the _Virgen de los dolores_; the external
sign of the vow consisting in the adoption of a dress similar to that
worn by the Virgin in the churches. The obligation assumed lasts
generally during a year; although some retain the dress for the
remainder of their life. Examples are known of this practice among the
other sex; in which case the costume is that of a Franciscan friar; but
the _beato_ becomes the object of ridicule.
Among the forms of society to which especial importance is attached are
the ceremonies and duration of mourning for relations. The friends of
the nearest relative,--especially if a lady,--of a person newly
deceased, assemble day after day for a considerable time in her house.
All are in full dress of deep mourning; and the victim of sorrow and
society is expected to maintain a continual outpouring of sighs and
tears, while she listens to each consoler in turn. Much importance is
attached to the display of the usual appearances of grief, even when the
circumstances of the case do not necessarily call for it. Happening to
enter a house in which news had been received of the death of a
relative, who resided in another part of Spain, I found the lady of the
house discussing with a friend the form of her new mourning dress.
Struck by the melancholy expression of her countenance, and the redness
of her eyes, I inquired whether any bad news had been received. My
question gave rise to a renewed flood of tears; "Yes, yes," was the
reply; "I have had terrible news; my poor uncle, who had been afflicted
for years with dropsy, died only six days ago." I expressed my sincere
regret at so sad an event, while she continued her explanations to the
other lady. "I understand," she said, in a voice almost suffocated,
"that this sleeve is no longer to be--drawn in; and the--front,
according to the last--French--fashion,--is at least an inch--shorter."
Taking the opportunity of the first moment of silence, I asked for some
further details respecting this beloved uncle. "It was your Señora
mother's brother, I believe?" "No, no, the husband of my aunt: and
what--do you--think of the--mantilla?" After the reply of the other
visitor to the latter question, I continued,--"But your profound regret,
on occasion of the loss of so amiable a companion, is natural."
"Terrible, sir, yes--my poor uncle!" "Had you seen him shortly before
the sad event?" "Alas! no, sir, I never--saw him but--once in my life;
and--should not now have recognized him--for I--was then--only five
years old."
The Spaniards are not a dinner-giving nation; obedient, as some suppose,
to their proverb,--which although the effect, may also operate as a
cause,--namely, 'Feasts are given by fools, and partaken of "by wise
men." This proverb, however, paints the national character with less
fidelity than most others; the parsimonious selfishness it implies is
not Spanish. Sufficient reasons exist to account for the rarity of
dinner invitations.
Although the English are not responsible for the geniality of climate,
which corks up their crystallized souls to be enclosed fog-tight, until
released by a symbolical ceremony of the popping of champagne corks,--it
is not the less true that dinners are their only introductions to
acquaintanceship. Spaniards have corks also, and well worth the trouble
of drawing, as well as all the other _materiel_ of conviviality; but
they despise it, finding the expansion operated by their sunshine more
complete and less laborious. Their sociability no more requires dinner
parties than their aloes hedges do steam-pipes. With the exception of
their ungovernable passion for cold water, their sobriety is extreme;
and this may perhaps unite with a dislike to social ostentation in
resisting the exotic fashion of dinners. But bring a good letter of
introduction to a Spaniard, and you will find a daily place at a
well-supplied table, the frequent occupation of which will give
unmistakable pleasure.
In such case you are looked for as a daily visitor; not ceremoniously,
but as using the house when in want of a more cheerful home than your
_posada_. Æolus has not yet been appointed here the arbiter of
smiles,[9] and your entrance is always the signal for the same animated
welcome. The only variation will be a good-natured remonstrance, should
your visits have undergone any interruption.
To return to my route. Aware of the inconvenience of Spanish inland
travelling, and with Seville for my object, I proceeded to Lyon. Nor had
I long to wait for the reward attendant on my choice of route. Getting
on board the steam-packet at six o'clock on an autumn morning, I
experienced at first some discouragement, from the fog, which I had not
reflected was the natural--or rather unnatural--atmosphere of that most
discouraging of all places, a prosperous manufacturing town. No sooner,
however, had we escaped, by the aid of high-pressure steam, from these
deleterious influences, than our way gradually opened before us, rather
dimly at first, but more and more clear as the sun attained height: the
banks of the Rhone having, during this time, been progressing also in
elevation and grandeur, by eight o'clock we were enjoying a rapidly
moving panorama of superb scenery.
This day's journey turned out unusually auspicious. Owing to some
favourable combination of celestial influences, (although I perceived no
one on board likely to have an astrologer in his pay,) no untoward
accident--so common on this line--befell us. No stoppages--no running
down of barges, nor running foul of bridges--nor bursting of engines.
The stream was neither too shallow, nor too full, so that we were
preserved both from running aground, and from being run away with. Our
boat was the fastest of the six which started at the same time; and one
is never ill-disposed by a speed of eighteen miles an hour, although it
may be acquired at an imminent risk of explosion.
There is many a day's journey of equal or greater beauty than the
descent of the Rhone; but I know of none which operates a more singular
effect on the senses. It is that of being transported by a leap from the
north to the south of Europe. The Rhone valley, in fine weather, enjoys
a southern climate, while all the region to the north of Lyon is marked
by the characteristics of the more northern provinces. That town itself,
with its smoke, its gloom, and its dirt, maintains itself at the
latitude of Manchester; whose excellent money-making inhabitants, if
thrown in the way of a party of Lyonnais, would scarcely feel themselves
among strangers, so complete would be the similarity of habits and
manners. The transition, therefore, to those wafted down the sunny
valley of the Rhone, is as theatrical as the scenery itself, but with
the agreeable addition of reality. Every surrounding object contributes
to the magic of the change. Taking leave of a bare and treeless country,
and its consequently rough and ungenial climate, which, in its turn,
will necessarily exercise its influence on the character of the
population, you find yourself gliding between vine-clad mountains, not
black and rugged like those of the Rhine, but soft and rosy, and lighted
by a sky, which begins here to assume a southern brilliancy. The
influence of the lighter atmosphere first begins to be felt, expanding
the organs, and filling the frame with a sensation, unknown to more
northern climes, of pleasure derived from mere existence. Then the
language you hear on all sides is new and musical; for the crew of the
steamer is Provençal, and their _patois_ falls on the ear with something
approaching the soft accent of Italy; while their expressive eyes,
sunburnt faces, and a certain mixture of animation and languor--the
exact counterpart of the phlegmatic industry of the north, complete the
scene, with which they are in perfect harmony.
_A propos_ of harmony, when the sailors' dinner hour arrived, they were
summoned by an air of Rossini, played on a bugle; the performer--one of
their number--having first thrown himself flat on the deck, in the
attitude of a Turk about to receive the bastinado, and then raising his
chest, by the aid of his two elbows, to the height required for the
inflation of the instrument.
Nor is this leap from north to south so purely imaginary, since the boat
Sirius, aided by the furious current, actually paddled at the rate of
from seventeen to eighteen miles an hour; and we reached Avignon at
sunset, about five o'clock. The distance being calculated, allowing for
the windings of the river, will verify the rate maintained during the
day. Notwithstanding the odious nature of comparisons, I could not help
forming that between this river and the Rhine, and giving the preference
to the first. The bold though gloomy precipices of the Rhine yield, in
point of charm, to the more open expanse of the Rhone valley, and the
larger scale of the scenery, especially when the far more brilliant
lighting-up is considered. Nor does the Rhone yield to its rival, in
regard to the picturesque form and position of its castles and other
buildings; while its greater width, and handsome bridges, add an
additional feature.
The best scene of the day, and a fit climax for its termination, was the
approach to Avignon at sunset,--a superb Claude. A turn of the river
placed the castle--an immense mass crowning the city, and presenting an
irregular outline--directly between us and the sun, the sky doing away,
by its brightness, with all the details of the landscape. The principal
objects were, the broad expanse of water, and the mass of deep purple,
tracing its dark but soft outline on the blaze of gold at its back. On
turning to look in the opposite direction, a scene equally striking
presented itself. The mountains between which we had been winding during
the last half of the day, are, from this point of view, ranged in an
immense semicircle, extending round half the horizon, and at that moment
were tinged by the sun with a bright rose colour, while they scarcely
appeared at half their actual distance. It looked like the final scene
of an aërial ballet, when a semicircle is formed by the rosy sylphs who
have figured during the representation.
After the hurly burly of debarkation at Avignon, and forcing our way
through the army of luggage porters--a ferocious race, notorious, at
this place, for the energy, amounting often to violence, with which they
urge the acceptance of their kind offices--the picturesque look of the
place, and the necessary hour of waiting for dinner, led me to a scene,
which I accepted as a satisfactory greeting on my arrival in the land
of the troubadours. A group of half a dozen labourers, returned from
their day's work, were lolling in every variety of attitude, on some
large stones placed in front of the _château_. They were singing--and
with perfect precision of _ensemble_--each his part of the chorus. At
the conclusion of every _morceau_, the whole party made the façade of
the ancient palace echo with peals of laughter; after which they all
talked at once, until they had agreed on the choice of the succeeding
air.
The castle of Avignon--ancient residence of the Popes, shelters now a
different sort of inmates. It serves for barracks for a regiment of
infantry. At this moment the lamplighter had completed his rounds in the
interior, and given to each of the innumerable windows an undue
importance in the architectural effect of the mass. Such is the
irregularity of their distribution over this vast façade--or such it
appeared to be then, for I have not seen it by daylight--as to give them
the appearance of having been thrown at it by handfuls, and fixed
themselves each at its first point of contact with the wall.
Or by way of compensation for the extravagant supposition of so large a
hand, we can suppose the edifice diminished, and resembling with its
jagged outline, a ragged black cloak, which, having been stretched out,
to serve as a mark for rifle-shooters, would admit the light through
openings not less symmetrically distributed than these windows.
Between Avignon and Marseille, by the land route, the only spot of
interest is Aix. It is a well placed little town; although, in the
summer, its position must procure for it rather too much warmth. There
are no remains of king Réné's palace; nor could I learn that any
souvenir of him was extant, with the exception of a statue, which
represents the jovial old king of the _trouvères_ in the character of
Bacchus. This figure ornaments a hot fountain, situated at the head of
the wide street, planted with trees, by which the town is entered.
LETTER XVI.
VOYAGE TO GIBRALTAR.
Cadiz.
I have just returned from a visit to the signal-tower--the highest
look-out in Cadiz; from which is seen a panorama equalled by few in
Europe. The Atlantic, and its coast down to Trafalgar Cape--the mountain
distances of the Ronda--and Medina Sidonia on its sugar-loaf rock, like
an advanced sentinel--all Cadiz, with its hundreds of white
Belvideres--and the bright blue bay, decked with glittering white towns,
and looking (but with more sparkling glow) like an enormous turquoise
set round with pearls. But let not, I entreat you, these magic
words--Cadiz--Andalucia--raise your expectations unduly; lest they be
disappointed, on rinding that I fail in doing justice to this charming
country. With regard to this town, not only would it be a task beyond my
powers to paint its bright aspect and to give you a sufficiently glowing
description of its pleasures. It is not even my intention to partake of
these--being bent on accomplishing my principal object--the exploration
of the monuments of Seville. However let us not anticipate. You ought to
have had news of me from Gibraltar, where I made a much longer stay than
I had intended, owing to an unexpected meeting with an old friend.
The fact is, I put off writing until I should again be in movement,
hoping that my letters might thus acquire greater interest. I will
resume my journey from France, in which country we parted.
The steam-packets leave Marseille for the south of Spain every tenth
day; and I happened to arrive a day or two after one of the departures.
Rather than wait eight days, therefore, I agreed for my passage on board
a trader bound for Gibraltar; by which arrangement, as the captain
assured me that the voyage would only occupy five days, I was to be at
my journey's end before the departure of the Phénicien, as the
steam-packet was called. The latter, moreover, made no progress
excepting during the night, in order to afford the passengers an
opportunity of passing each day in some town; and being anxious to
arrive at Seville, I should not have liked the delays thus occasioned. I
do not, however, recommend the adoption of my plan; for the five days,
as it turned out, became twenty-four, and the Phénicien arrived at Cadiz
long before I reached Gibraltar.
The captain's prognostic of course supposed a favourable voyage; and I
was wrong in reckoning on this, particularly at the time of year, and in
the Mediterranean. I was wrong, also, in confiding in my Provençal
captain, who, in addition to various other bad qualities, turned out to
be the most inept blockhead to whom ever were entrusted lives and
cargoes.
My fellow-passengers consisted of a Marseille merchant, who possessed a
trading establishment at Gibraltar; a young French officer, on leave of
absence to visit his mother, who was Spanish; and a Moorish traveller,
proceeding homeward to Tetuan. From certain hints dropped by the
merchant, who was well acquainted with the passage, we soon learned the
probable character of our captain, as he belonged to a race not very
favourably spoken of by those whose goods and persons they were in the
habit of conveying; and these predictions being soon partially confirmed
by the man's incivility, we began to look upon him as our common enemy.
One of the accusations brought against his class was, a disposition to
reduce the supply of provisions within undue limits. This, however, we
could not lay to his charge, as the adverse winds rendered necessary an
extreme prudence in our daily consumption. My principal anxiety arose
from want of confidence in the capacity of the man for the performance
of his duties as a seaman. This anxiety was grounded on various symptoms
sufficiently striking to attract the notice even of a landsman; and more
particularly on a scene, during which his presence of mind, if mind he
possessed, totally deserted him.
We had passed several days off the Balearic Islands--or rather on and
off--for each morning we issued from behind Ivica, and returned at night
to take shelter under its cliffs; ours being the only vessel of several
performing the same passage restrained by fear from attempting any
progress during these nights. The reason of this we learned
subsequently. At length, when we did risk an advance, we chose the worst
moment of all: the breeze becoming a gale, and almost a head-wind, from
having been less unfavourable. Whatever may now have been our anxiety,
we could easily discover that the author of our misfortune was a prey to
more terror than ourselves.
Against this wind we proceeded, gaining about a hundred yards an hour,
during five days; at the end of which it changed slightly, and allowed
us to reach the entrance of the channel; that is, we had doubled the
Cape de Gata, and were off the south coast of the peninsula, nearly
opposite Almeria, and in the direct line of all the vessels entering the
Mediterranean; which, as they are sometimes delayed in expectation of a
favourable wind for passing the Straits of Gibraltar, were now bearing
down in great numbers. At this crisis the gale, which had all along
continued to be violent, became once more almost directly adverse, and
increased in fury.
Our gallant captain's features always assumed towards evening a more
serious expression. A faint tinge of green was observed to replace the
yellow of his usual complexion, and he passed the nights on deck, as
unapproachable as a hyena--by the way, also a most cowardly animal. At
length one day as evening approached, the wind was almost doing its
worst, and we went to bed tossed about as if in a walnut-shell--lulled
by an incessant roaring, as it were, of parks of Perkin's artillery.
It being essential to keep a good look-out, and to show a light
occasionally, in order to avoid being run down--the lantern--unable to
live on deck, from the water as well as the wind, which passed through
the rigging--was confided to the passengers, with a recommendation, by
no means likely to be neglected, to keep it in good trim, and to hand
it up with promptitude when called for.
At about twelve o'clock, sure enough, the call was heard, in the
somewhat agitated tones of the captain. The passenger, whose business it
was, for we took the watch each in his turn--immediately jumped up and
handed up the lantern. Thinking this sufficient, we remained as we were;
but in less than a minute, it was brought back extinguished, and thrown
down into the cabin. Immediately after a general view holloa was audible
above the roar of the storm, and the mate's voice was heard at the top
of our staircase, begging us to get up as we were going to be run down.
We now lost no time in making our way to the deck; no one speaking a
word, but each waiting for his turn to mount. Being furthest from the
staircase, or rather ladder, I arrived the last. On reaching the deck, I
was met by about a ton of salt water, which appeared to have mistaken me
for a wicket, as it came in as solid a mass, and with about the same
impulse as a cricket ball. Finding I was not to be dashed back again
down stairs, it took the opportunity of half filling the cabin, the door
of which I had not thought of shutting. On recovering my breath and
reopening my eyes, I discerned, by aid of the white bed-apparel of my
fellow passengers, a dim crowd, pressed together at the bow of the
vessel, consisting of all the inhabitants of the frail tenement,
excepting the steersman and myself. I rushed forward; but finding my
voice insufficient to add any effect to the cry which had been set up,
to give notice to the crew of the approaching vessel, I made for the
side, which I saw, by the position of the group, was threatened with the
expected contact; and catching at a rope ladder, placed myself on the
top of the bulwarks, resolved on trying a jump as the only chance of
escape in case of meeting.
There was now time to examine our situation perfectly well. I looked
towards the stern, and could see that the helm was not deserted: but it
was of no avail to save us from the danger; since, sailing as near the
wind as we could, as far as I understood the subsequent explanation of
the sailors, we could not change our direction on a sudden, otherwise
than by turning a sort of right-about-face. We went on, therefore,
trusting that the other crew would hear the cry, and discover our
position in time. The night being extremely dark, and the sea running
high, the approaching vessel was scarcely visible to us when first
pointed out by the sailors; still less should I have looked forward to
its threatening us with any danger; but the eye of experience had not
been deceived, and from my perch I was soon able to discover, as each
passage over the summit of a wave brought the dark mass against the sky,
that its approach was rapid, and directed with unerring precision, so as
to cross our course at the fatal moment. She was scudding before the
gale, with almost all her sails set, and consequently, on striking our
ship, nothing could save us from an instantaneous founder.
At each successive appearance the mass became larger and blacker; but
the cry of our crew, in which I now joined, never ceased. At length we
were only separated by the ascent of one wave, at the summit of which
was balanced the huge bulk of our antagonist, while we were far below
the level of her keel--but her steersman had heard the cry; for at the
moment when certainly no hope of saving--at least our ship, remained to
any of us, we saw the other swerve as she descended--and after
approaching to within half her length of our starboard bow, she glided
by at the distance of a yard from where I was standing.
I now drew a deep breath before I jumped down on to the deck; after
which, beginning to perceive that I was as wet as if we had been run
down, I was hastening to the cabin, when my progress was stopped by the
captain, who, without perceiving any one, was stamping up and down the
centre of the vessel, and actually tearing his hair with both his hands.
I paused to observe this tragic performance, which shortly gave place to
an indistinct and much interrupted speech, in which, in the intervals
left by all the oaths as yet invented in the French and Languedoc
tongues, there could be distinguished dark threats of vengeance,
addressed to the captain of the large brig, whom he was to discover
without fail on his return to Marseille.
All the passengers now descended to the cabin, and having stripped and
rolled myself in my cloak turned inside out, I threw myself on my couch.
We were now, in spite of recent experience, provided with a fresh
lighted lantern, to be produced on the next call. This we took care
still to look to, although we hardly expected more than one such chance
in one night.
It was past two, and we had scarcely left off discussing our narrow
escape, when another rapid and significant demand for the lantern
announced a second peril. On this occasion I took my time, for I had
reflected on the odds, which were immense, against our being a second
time so exactly in any one's way, where there was room for the whole
navigation of the world to pass abreast. Nor could I suspect any of my
fellow-passengers of being the unlucky Jonas of our misfortunes;
although the Moor was looked upon by some of the sailors with a
suspicious eye, for not consenting to partake of a leg of chicken, if
the animal had been killed and cooked by any other hand than his own,
and for the mysterious formalities they accused him of observing in
killing his poultry; such as turning his face in a particular direction,
and requiring the blood to flow in a particular manner--on failure of
which last requisite, he threw the fowl overboard. These things alarmed
the sailors, but helped, on the contrary, to encourage me; as I thought
the man's being possessed of a conscience and religious scruples,
rather, if any thing, an additional safeguard for us.
This time, therefore, I drew on my boots and trowsers; and, wrapped in
my cloak, proceeded in company with the Moor, who had taken it as
leisurely as myself, to join the party on deck. They had kept the
lantern in a safe position until the moment it would have the best
chance of taking effect, a proper precaution, as it was likely to be so
short-lived. And at the moment I arrived the order was being given to
shew it ahead. A sailor took it, and before he could reach the bow of
the vessel, a wave broke over him and washed his lantern fairly into the
sea. Upon this the captain said not a word, but running to the helm,
took it in hand, and turned the ship right round, presenting her stern
to the wind, and to the approaching vessel,--which we now soon lost
sight of, as we were not a slow sailing craft in a fair wind. Having
performed this masterly feat, and given orders that no change should be
made in any respect, he went to bed; muttering as he left the deck
various indistinct sounds between his teeth. The next morning we had
undone nearly all our six day's work, and before evening of the
following day, had returned to within sight of Cape St. Martin near
Valencia.
It was now a fortnight since we had quitted Marseille, and we were
nearly half-way to our place of destination; but Neptune took pity on
us, and having given the usual scolding to Eolus, we were allowed to
resume our course, although not at as good a rate as we could have
wished. The tempest had ceased, and by means of a feeble but fair wind
which succeeded, we regained in three days and nights almost all our
lost way, and were on the point of doubling the Cape Gata. Here we
remained stationary in a dead calm during another three days, after
which an almost imperceptible movement in the air in the wished-for
direction bore us to within sight of Gibraltar.
This progress along the southern coast lasted three days more, and
introduced me to the climate of Andalucia. At the end of November it was
still a splendid summer--but with just sufficient air to prevent our
suffering from the heat. The blue Mediterranean at length vindicated her
fair fame, and proved that one of her smiles had the power of throwing
oblivion over all the harm of which she was capable during her moments
of fretfulness. As you will easily imagine, I passed these delicious
days, and nearly the entire nights on deck. Our view consisted of the
magnificent precipices which terminate, at the shore, the Alpuxarras
chain of mountains. These are coloured with the various tints peculiar
to the ores and marbles of which they are formed; and now showed us all
their details, although we never approached within twenty-five miles off
shore. The purity of the atmosphere added to their great elevation, gave
them the appearance of being only four or five miles distant. The only
means of proving the illusion consisted in directing the telescope along
the line of apparent demarcation between the sea and the rock, when the
positions of the different towns situated on the shore were indicated
only by the tops of their towers. Among others, the tower of Malaga
Cathedral appeared to rise solitarily from the water, the church and
town being hidden by the convexity of the sea's surface.
With the bright blue sea for a foreground, varied by continually passing
sails, these superb cliffs formed the second plan of the picture; while
over them towered the Granada mountains of the Sierra Nevada, cutting
their gigantic outlines of glittering snow out of the dark blue of the
sky, at a distance of twenty leagues. The evenings more particularly
possessed a charm, difficult to be understood by the thousands of our
fellow creatures, unable to kill that fragment of time without the aid
of constellations of wax-lights, and sparkling toilettes,--not to
mention the bright sparks which conversation sometimes, but not always,
sprinkles o'er the scene. Now I do not pretend to speak with disrespect
of _soirées_, nor even of balls or ra-outes, as our neighbours say;
Polka forfend I should blaspheme her deity, depreciate her loudly
laudable energies, or apostrophize her strangely muscular hamstrings! I
only maintain that a night passed at sea, off the southern Spanish coast
in fine weather, does not yield to the best of nights.
The observation of the land, of the passing sails, and the management of
our own, and the various phenomena of sea and sky, having gradually
yielded to sunset and twilight--and these in their turn leaving the
vessel to its solitude, conversation became amusing between people of
such different origin, habits, and ideas, brought together by chance,
drawn nearer to each other by the force of circumstances, and by having
partaken of the same buffetings. The Moor would then offer a cup of his
coffee, or rather, according to the Oriental custom, a thimbleful of his
quintessence of that exquisite berry. Our French ensign was a tolerable
musician, and was easily prevailed on to unpack his cornet-à-piston, and
to astonish the solitude of the night, and the denizens of the deep, by
the execution of the favourite airs of Auber and Halevy. Sometimes a
bark too distant to be visible would hail us on hearing these unusual
strains; and faint sounds of applause would arrive as if from wandering
naiads.
At length one afternoon brought us in sight of Gibraltar. And now, lest
we should arrive without further mishap, our precious Provençal took
care to give us a parting proof of his incapacity,--which however,
thanks to our good fortune, did not bring upon us the annoyance it
threatened. The rock of Gibraltar was before us the whole of the
following day; but there appeared also in sight, somewhat to its left,
and at a much greater distance, a sort of double mountain, apparently
divided from the middle upwards by a wedge-formed cleft. The captain
replied to all questions by describing this object as consisting of two
distinct mountains, which he pronounced to be no others than the two
Pillars of Hercules,--promising us that the next morning we should see
them separated by the entire width of the Straits.
Far from suspecting the authenticity of this explanation, I innocently
inquired what was the large rock (Gibraltar itself) apparently much
nearer to us. "Oh!" he replied, "it was some promontory on the coast of
Andalucia, the name of which had escaped his memory;" adding that we
steered very slightly to the left of the said rock, because the wind
having increased, and blowing off shore, we could not make Gibraltar
otherwise than by keeping well into the shore, to prevent our being
driven towards Africa. All this about the wind was so true, that had we
preserved to the last the direction we were then following, we must
inevitably have gone to Africa, and added a day and a night to our
voyage.
The Marseille merchant, who had made the voyage twenty times, listened
to all this; but although very intelligent on most subjects, and more
particularly with regard to the qualities and value of silks and
quincaillerie, his notions of practical geography had not probably
attained any great development, as he appeared perfectly satisfied. I
therefore passed the day and retired that night filled with curiosity
respecting this remarkable promontory, that had escaped the notice of
Arrowsmith and the continental geographers. The following morning, to my
extreme astonishment, the double mountain was still as undivided as
ever, notwithstanding our having approached so near to the great rock as
to distinguish its colour, and the details of its surface. We were still
steering so as to leave it behind us.
I now began to suspect something was wrong; and getting hold of the
merchant, proceeded to question him closely, recalling to his
recollection the captain's explanation of the previous day, and the
consequent miraculous union of Gibraltar with the mountain of the
monkies, to accomplish which the former must have quitted Europe
subsequently to the publication of the last newspapers we had seen at
Marseille. His replying that he certainly thought the great rock put him
in mind of Gibraltar confirmed my suppositions; and I prevailed upon him
to repeat his opinion to the ignoramus, who was peaceably eating his
breakfast on the bulwarks of the quarter-deck. We went to him instantly,
and on hearing the remark, he merely observed that it was very possible;
and leaving his sausage, quietly proceeded to the helm, which he no more
quitted until we were in the bay at four in the afternoon. We had only
lost about five or six hours by the blunder; but had we continued the
same course another half-hour, we could not possibly have made Gibraltar
that day.
It was with more than the ordinary excitement of the organ of
travelling,--for if phrenology deserves to be called a science, such an
organ must exist,--that I approached this great Leviathan of the seas;
perhaps, all causes considered, the most remarkable object in Europe.
During the approach the interest is absorbing; and the two or three
hours employed in passing round the extremity of the rock, and
stretching sufficiently far into the Straits, to gain wind and channel
for entering the bay, slipped away more rapidly than many a ten minutes
I could have called to my recollection. The simultaneous view of Europe
and Africa; the eventful positions with which you are surrounded,--Tarifa,
Algeciras, and further on Trafalgar; the very depths beneath you too
shallow for the recollections which crowd into this limited space;
commencing with history so ancient as to have attained the rank of
fable,--and heroes long since promoted to demi-gods; and reaching to the
passage of the injured Florinda, so quickly responded to by that of
Tharig, followed by a hundred Arab fleets. The shipping of all nations
continually diverting the attention from these _souvenirs_; and,
crowning all, the stupendous mass of the now impregnable rock.
Amidst all this, I could not drive from my thoughts the simple and
patriotic old Spanish historian de Pisa, and the operation to which he
attributes the origin of this mountain. From him may be learned all the
details respecting this work of Hercules; as to which, as well as to the
motives of its fabricator, the poets of antiquity were in the dark.
Hercules had been induced, by the high reputation of Spain, of her
population, and her various natural advantages, to conduct thither an
army for the purpose of taking possession of the country. After having
put his project in execution, he remained in Spain, and enjoyed a long
and prosperous reign. The victory, which gave him possession of the
country, took place at Tarifa; and it was in its commemoration and
honour that before he established the seat of government at Toledo, he
assembled the conquered population, and compelled them to throw stones
into the sea, by which means, in a short time, this monument was
completed.
Before we set foot on this imperceptible trophy of a league in length by
two thousand feet high the French ensign and myself hailed a steamer as
we passed by her in the offing, and found she was bound for Cadiz, and
we must go on board the following afternoon. On landing, however, my
projects underwent a change, as I told you at the commencement of my
letter. There is not much to be seen at Gibraltar that would interest
you, except indeed the unique aspect and situation of the place. To
military men its details offer much interest. There is a large public
garden on the side of the mountain, between the town, which occupies the
inmost extremity, and the Governor's house near the entrance of the bay.
The batteries constructed in the rock are extremely curious, and
calculated to embarrass an enemy whose object should be to dismount
them. I thought, however, with deference to those conversant with these
subjects, that they were likely to possess an inconvenience--that of
exposing to suffocation the gunners employed in the caverns, out of
which there does not appear to exist sufficient means of escape for the
smoke.
The most amusing sight in Gibraltar is the principal street, filled, as
it is, with an infinitely varied population. Here you see, crowded
together as in a fair, and distinguished by their various costumes,--the
representatives of Europe, Asia, and Africa,--Arabs, Moors, Italians,
Turks, Greeks, Russians, English, and Spaniards, Jews, and,
occasionally, a holy friar conversing with some Don Basilio, appearing,
in his long cylindrical hat, as if blessed with a skull sufficiently
hard to have entered the side of a tin chimney-top, precipitated upon
it by a gust of wind.
Among all these a successful guess may here and there be risked at the
identity of the Andalucian leader of banditti, lounging about in search
of useful information. The contrabandistas are likewise in great
plenty.
LETTER XVII.
CADIZ. ARRIVAL AT SEVILLE.
Seville.
Cadiz is the last town in Europe I should select for a residence, had I
the misfortune to become blind. One ought to be all eyes there. It is
the prettiest of towns. After this there is no more to be said, with
regard, at least, to its external peculiarities. It possesses no
prominent objects of curiosity. There is, it is true, a tradition
stating it to have possessed a temple dedicated to Hercules; but this
has been washed away by the waves of the ocean, as its rites have been
by the influx of succeeding populations. Nothing can be more remote from
the ideas of the visitor to Cadiz, than the existence of anything
antique; unless it be the inclination to prosecute such researches: the
whole place is so bright and modern looking, and pretty in a manner
peculiar to itself, and unlike any other town,--since, like everything
else in Spain, beauty also has its originality. Nothing can be gayer
than the perspective of one of the straight, narrow streets. On either
side of the blue ribbon of sky, which separates the summits of its lofty
houses, is seen a confusion of balconies, and projecting
box-windows,--all placed irregularly--each house possessing only one or
two, so as not to interfere with each other's view, and some placed on a
lower story, others on a higher; their yellow or green hues relieving
the glittering white of the façades. Nor could anything improve the
elegant effect of the architectural ornaments, consisting of pilasters,
vases, and sculpture beneath the balconies, still less, the animated
faces--the prettiest of all Spain, after those of Malaga--whose owners
shew a preference to the projecting windows, wherever a drawing-room or
boudoir possesses one.
The pavement of these elegant little streets, is not out of keeping with
the rest. It would be a sacrilege to introduce a cart or carriage into
them. A lady may, and often does, traverse the whole town on foot, on
her way to a ball. It is a town built as if for the celebration of a
continual carnival. Nor does the charge brought against the Gaditanas,
of devotion to pleasure, cause any surprise: were they not, they would
be misplaced in Cadiz. Hither should the victim of spleen and melancholy
direct his steps. Let him choose the season of the carnival. There is
reason to suspect that the advertiser in the Herald had this remedy in
view, when he promised a certain cure to "clergymen and noblemen, who
suffer from blushing and despondency, delusion, thoughts of self-injury,
and groundless fear:" these symptoms being indications of an attack of
that northern epidemy, which takes its name from a class of fallen
angels of a particular hue.
In Cadiz, in fact, does Carnival--that modern Bacchus of fun, give a
loose to his wildest eccentricities--nor may those who are least
disposed to do homage to the god escape his all-pervading influence. All
laws yield to his, during his three days of Saturnalia. Not the least
eccentric of his code is that one, which authorizes the baptism of every
passenger in a street with the contents of jugs, bestowed from the fair
hands of vigilant angels who soar on the second-floor balconies. The
statute enjoins also the expression of gratitude for these favours,
conveyed with more or less precision of aim, in the form of hen's
eggs--of which there is consequently a scarcity on breakfast-tables on
the mornings of these festive days. At eleven o'clock each night, four
spacious buildings scarcely suffice for the masquerading population.
But the paddles have been battering for some hours the waters of the
Guadalquivir, and we are approaching Seville, a city given to less
turbulent propensities--where Pleasure assumes a more timid gait, nor
cares to alarm Devotion--a partner with whom she delights, hand in hand,
to tread this marble-paved Paradise. The passage between Cadiz and
Seville, is composed of two hours of sea, and eight or nine of river.
The beautiful bay, and its white towns, with Cadiz itself, looking in
the sunshine like a palace of snow rising out of the sea--have no power
now to rivet the attention, nor to occupy feelings already glowing with
the anticipation of a sail between the banks of the Guadalquivir. A
ridge of hidden rocks lengthens the approach, compelling the pilot to
describe a large semicircle, before he can make the mouth of the river.
This delay is a violent stimulant to one's impatience. At length we have
entered the ancient Betis; and leaving behind the active little town of
St. Lucar, celebrated for its wines, and for those of the neighbouring
Xeres, of which it embarks large quantities--we are gliding between
these famous shores.
Great, indeed, is the debt they owe to the stirring events that have
immortalized these regions, for they are anything but romantic. Nothing
can be less picturesque;--all the flatness of Holland, without the
cultivation, and the numerous well-peopled villages, which diminish the
monotonous effect. On the right are seen at some distance the wooded
hills of Xeres; but for scores of miles, on the opposite side, all is
either marsh, or half-inundated pasture, with here and there some
thinly-scattered olive trees, and herds of oxen for its sole living
occupants. At a few leagues from Seville, the increased frequency of the
olive grounds--a few villages and convents, and at length the darker
green masses of the orange groves, give rapidly strengthening
indications of approaching civilization; and you are landed a short
distance below the town, to reach which, it is necessary to traverse the
Christina Gardens. The cathedral occupies this southern extremity of the
city; and on your way to the inn, you may make an estimate of the length
of one side of its immense quadrangular enclosure. Immediately beyond
this you are received into the inevitable labyrinth of crooked lanes,
peculiar to an Arab town.
The steam trip from Cadiz is so easy a day's journey, that no necessity
for repose or refitting interferes with the impatience of those who
arrive to explore the external town. You speedily, therefore, sally
forth, and thread a few of the mazy streets; but without venturing too
far, on account of the evident risk of losing your way. Should you
chance to stumble on the Plaza Mayor,--called Plaza de San
Francisco,--you are at once rewarded by the view of the _ayuntamiento_,
one of the most elegant edifices in Spain: otherwise the extreme
simplicity of the bare, irregular, but monotonous white houses, will
create disappointment--you will stare about in the vain search of the
magnificence, so much extolled, of this semi-Moorish capital, and
discover, that nothing can be plainer, more simple, more ugly, than the
exterior of the Seville habitations. At length, however, some open door,
or iron grille, placed on a line with an inner court, will operate a
sudden change in your ideas, and afford a clue to the mystery. Through
this railing, generally of an elegant form, is discovered a delicious
vista, in which are visible, fountains, white marble colonnades,
pomegranate and sweet lemon-trees, sofas and chairs (if in summer), and
two or three steps of a porcelain staircase.
You now first appreciate the utility of the more than plain exteriors of
the houses of this town; and you admire an invention, which adds to the
already charming objects, composing the interior of these miniature
palaces, a beauty still greater than that which they actually possess,
lent by the effect of contrast. It is calculated that there are more
than eighty thousand white marble pillars in Seville. For this luxury
the inhabitants are indebted in a great measure to the Romans, whose
town, Italica, seated, in ancient times, on the opposite bank of the
river, four miles above Seville, and since entirely buried, furnished
the Arab architects with a considerable portion of their decorating
materials.
In a future letter I hope to introduce you to the interior of some of
these abodes, where we shall discover that their inhabitants prove
themselves not unworthy of them, by the perfect taste and conception of
civilized life, with which their mode of existence is regulated.
[Illustration: HALL OF AMBASSADORS, ALCAZAR, SEVILLE.]
LETTER XVIII.
THE ARABS IN SPAIN. ALCAZAR OF SEVILLE.
Seville.
The chief attraction of this most interesting of the provinces of the
Peninsula, consists in the numerous well preserved remains of Arab art.
The most sumptuous of their palaces are, it is true, no longer in
existence, nor the principal mosques, with the exception of the
metropolitan temple of Cordova: but there remain sufficient specimens to
shew, that their architecture had attained the highest excellence in two
of the principal requisites for excellence in that science--solidity and
beauty.
The superiority of the Arabs in this branch of science and taste is so
striking, that all other departments of art, as well as the customs and
peculiarities of that race, and the events of their dominion in this
country, become at once the subjects of interest and inquiry. It is
consequently very satisfactory to discover that one can examine almost
face to face that people,--probably the most advanced in science and
civilization that ever set foot in Europe; so little are the traces of
their influence worn away, and so predominant is the portion of it still
discernible in the customs, manners, and race of the population of this
province, and even to a considerable extent in their language.
There is something so brilliant in the career of the Arab people, as to
justify the interest excited by the romantic and picturesque (if the
expression may be allowed), points of their character and customs. Their
civilization appears to have advanced abreast with their conquests, and
with the same prodigious rapidity; supposing, that is, that previously
to their issuing from their peninsula, they were as backward as
historians state them to have been: a point not sufficiently
established. Sallying forth, under the immediate successors of Mahomet,
they commenced, in obedience to the injunction of their new faith, a
course of conquest unrivalled in rapidity. Their happy physical and
mental organization, enabled them to appropriate whatever was superior
in the arts and customs of the conquered nations; and whatever they
imitated acquired during the process of adaptation, new and more
graceful modifications. It has been asserted that they owed their
civilization to the Greeks; and, certainly, the first subjected
provinces being Greek, their customs could not but receive some
impression from the contact; but it is not probable that the Greeks were
altogether their instructors in civilization. Had such been the case
their language would probably have undergone a change, instead of
continuing totally independent of the Greek, and attaining to greater
richness. They are known to have possessed poets of eminence before the
appearance of Mahomet, consequently before they had any communication
with the Greeks; shortly after the commencement of their intercourse
with them, they shewed a marked superiority over them in geometry, in
astronomy, architecture, and medicine, and it would probably be found,
but for the destruction of so many Arab libraries, that they did not
yield to them in eloquence and poetic genius.
Established in Spain, they carried the arts of civilization--the useful
no less than the elegant, to the highest perfection. They introduced
principles of agriculture adapted to the peculiarities of the country.
The chief requisite for a country, parched by a cloudless sun, being
water--they put in practice a complete system of irrigation, to which
the Spaniards are still indebted for the extraordinary fertility of
their soil. Many other arts that have since been permitted to dwindle
into insignificance, and some altogether to disappear, were bequeathed
by them. The Morocco preparation of leather is an instance of these
last.
Their high chivalry, added to their moderation after victory, would have
divested even war of much of its barbarism, had they had to do with a
race less impenetrable, and more susceptible of polish than were the
iron legions of their Gothic antagonists. The persevering and repeated
acts of treachery practised by these, at last drew their civilized
adversaries, forcibly into the commission of acts of a similar
nature--it being frequently necessary in self-defence to adopt the same
weapons as one's enemy. When firmly settled in Spain, the Arabs no
longer appear to have taken the field with a view to conquest.
Abderahman the First, Almansor, and other conquerors, returned from
their victories to repose in their capital; contenting themselves with
founding schools and hospitals to commemorate their successes, without
making them instrumental to the increase of their domination. After this
time campaigns seem frequently to have been undertaken from motives of
emulation, and for the purpose of affording them opportunities for a
display of their prowess, and giving vent to their military ardour. They
considered an irruption on the hostile territory, or an attack on a
town, in the light of a tournament. The Christians, on the contrary,
fought with a view to exterminate, and without ever losing sight of
their main object--the expulsion of the Arabs and Moors from the
Peninsula. It was thus that they ultimately succeeded--a result they
probably would not have attained, had the Moorish leaders been actuated
by similar views, and displayed less forbearance.
Much of the misapprehension which exists in Europe respecting this race
is attributable to the exaggerations of writers; much more to the
absence of reflection in readers, and to the almost universal practice
of bringing every act related of personages inhabiting remote and
half-known climes, to the test of the only customs and manners with
which we are familiar, and which we consider, for no other reason,
superior to all others--making no allowance for difference of education,
climate, tradition, race. An European, subjected to a similar process of
criticism, on the part of an inhabitant of the East, would certainly not
recognise his own portrait--a new disposition of light bearing upon
peculiarities, the existence of which had hitherto been unsuspected by
their owner; and he would manifest a surprise as unfeigned, as a
Frenchman once expressed in my hearing, on finding himself in a
situation almost parallel. Conversing on the subject of a play, acted
in Paris, in which an Englishman cut a ridiculous figure--a lady present
remarked, that, no doubt, in the London theatres the French were not
spared; upon which the Frenchman I allude to--a person possessed of
superior intelligence--exclaimed: "How could that be, since there was
nothing about a Frenchman that could be laughed at?"
On reading of a reprehensible act attributed to a Mahometan, some will
brand Mahometanism in general, and of all times and places, with the
commission of the like crimes, placing the event at a distance of a
thousand leagues, or of a thousand years from its real place and date:
forgetting that power has been abused under all religions; and that we
only hear one side of the question with respect to all that relates to
the Oriental races--our information only reaching us through the medium
of writers of different and hostile faith. It is a singular fact that
the popular terror, which so long attached itself to the idea of a
Saracen, and which derived its origin from the conquests of the
Mahometans, has its equivalent in certain Mahometan countries. In some
parts of the empire of Morocco, the idea of a Christian is that of a
ruffian of immense stature and terrific features; calculated to inspire
the utmost fear in the breasts of all who approach him. Such is their
notion of his ferocity, that one of the emperors, Muley Ismael, in order
to terrify his refractory subjects into obedience, was in the habit of
threatening to have them eaten up by the Christians.
From the inferior value set on human life by the races of the East, we
accuse them of barbarity: forgetting, that, owing to the absence of all
analogy between our origin, races, and education, we are incompetent to
appreciate their feelings, and the motives of their conduct, and have
consequently no right to condemn them. If we abstain from taking our
neighbour's life, we set also a proportionate value on our own: a native
of the East displays, it is true, less veneration for his own species.
Deeply impressed with the dogmas of his religion, which form the guide
of his every day life, the habit of acting up to the doctrines which he
has been taught to believe, diminishes his estimate of the value of
temporal life, whether that of others, or his own, which he exposes on
occasions on which we should not be inclined to do so. He does not take
life for cruelty's sake, nor without provocation. Were he to be
furnished with Arabian accounts of the treatment of a London or Paris
hackney-coach horse, he would think of the noble and friendly animal
which carries him to battle, and turn in disgust from such a page.
The system practised at Constantinople of nailing to his door-post the
ear of the culprit detected in the employment of false weights, is, no
doubt, very discordant with our customs; but this mode of punishment is
said to be attended with such success, as to do away almost entirely
with the occasion for it. Were it adopted in some other capitals, it
would certainly at first disfigure many a neatly adorned entrance, and
give additional occupation to painters; but the result might possibly be
a more universal observance of the injunction contained in the eighth
commandment. As far as regards the Arabs of Spain, it may be securely
affirmed, that, during the course of their triumphs, and long before
they had attained their highest civilization, no cruelties were
exercised by them, which came near to the barbarity of those practised
subsequently by their Christian adversaries on victims of a different
creed, when in their power. We may instance the example set by St.
Ferdinand, who, it is said, when burning some Moors, piously stirred up
the fire himself in the public place of Palencia.
It cannot, however, be denied that cases of cruelty have occurred, and
are related in history of the Arabs, although they are rare among those
of Spain; but, if cruel, the Arab never added hypocrisy to his cruelty.
After having ravaged all Andalucia with fire and famine, St. Ferdinand
formed the project of proceeding to Africa the following year, in order
to attack the inhabitants of that country. His death interrupted the
course of these humane projects. Being dropsical, and feeling his end
approaching, he called for his son Alphonso, afterwards his successor,
to whom this prince--cut off in the midst of his thirsty longings for
blood and slaughter--is related to have given "the counsels, which the
sentiments of piety, justice, and love for mankind, with which he was
filled, inspired so great a monarch."
As for the degenerate modern tribes, descendants of some of the most
civilized of former days, we have witnessed their contest, _pro aris et
focis_, during the last few years, against a sample of the Christians of
to-day: the mode of making war is perfectly similar on both sides.
It is a no less curious _travers_ of human nature, from its being an
almost universal one--that of which the modern Spaniards afford an
example. They apply the term "barbarians" to the descendants of their
Moorish compatriots, although they themselves have scarcely advanced a
step in civilization since the day that, in the public place of Granada,
Ferdinand the Catholic burned one million five thousand Arab books,
being all he could collect throughout Spain; showing what tremendous
power may be wielded by a single human hand, when applied to the task of
undoing. That King, by a single signature, accomplished an act which may
be considered as equivalent to retarding, by several centuries, the
civilization of a great country,--perhaps, even, to cutting it off from
the only opportunity it was destined to possess, during the present
ages, of arriving at the summit which the more privileged nations are
permitted to attain; while it influenced injuriously the progress of
letters, science, and art throughout Europe. But we will no longer allow
digressions to delay our visit to the Alcazar, where we shall find
visible proof of Arab superiority, at least, in architectural science
and invention.
Passing to the east of the cathedral through the large open space, on
the left of which is the Archbishop's palace, and on the right the
cathedral and exchange, the embattled outer walls of the Alcazar stop
the view in front; varied here and there with square towers, and
containing in the centre an arched entrance. The present buildings
occupy the south-eastern corner of the ancient enclosure of the royal
residence, which comprised all the remaining space as far as the banks
of the river, passing round the south side of the cathedral, and, in
fact, including it in its precincts--an enclosure of about a mile and
a half in circumference. An old tower, or scrap of wall, indicates here
and there the position of the ancient buildings, the site of which is
now occupied by two or three _plazuelas_, or squares, and several
streets communicating between them. The present palace scarcely covers a
third of the original extent.
[Illustration: FAÇADE OF THE ALCAZAR, SEVILLE.]
Having passed through the first entrance, you are in a large square,
surrounded with buildings without ornament, and used at present as
government offices. At the opposite side another archway passes under
the buildings, and leads to a second large court. This communicates on
the left with one or two others; one of these is rather ornamental, and
in the Italian style, surrounded by an arcade supported on double
columns, and enclosing a garden sunk considerably below the level of the
ground. This court is approached by a covered passage, leading, as
already mentioned, from the left side of the second large square, the
south side of which--the side opposite to that on which we
entered--consists of the façade and portal of the inner palace of
all;--the Arab ornamental portion, the residence of the royal person.
At the right-hand extremity of this front is the entrance to the first
floor, approached by a staircase, which occupies part of the building on
that side of the square, and which contains the apartments of the
governor. The staircase is open to the air, and is visible through a
light arcade. The centre portal of this façade is ornamented, from the
ground to the roof, with rich tracery, varied by a band of blue and
white _azulejos_, and terminating in an advancing roof of carved cedar.
Right and left, the rest of the front consists of a plain wall up to the
first floor, on which small arcades, of a graceful design, enclose
retreating balconies and windows.
Entering through the centre door, a magnificent apartment has been
annihilated by two white partitions, rising from the ground to the
ceiling, and dividing it into three portions, the centre one forming the
passage which leads from the entrance to the principal court. Several of
the apartments are thus injured, owing to the palace being occasionally
used as a temporary lodging for the court. Passing across the degraded
hall, a magnificent embroidered arch--for the carving with which it is
covered more resembles embroidery than any other ornament--gives access
to the great court.
It is difficult to ascertain what portion of this palace belongs to the
residence of the Moorish Kings, as Pedro the Cruel had a considerable
portion of it rebuilt by Moorish architects in the same style. The still
more recent additions are easily distinguished. One of them, in this
part of the edifice, is a gallery, erected by Charles the Fifth, over
the arcades of the great court. This gallery one would imagine to have
been there placed with a view to demonstrate the superiority of Arab art
over every other. It is conceived in the most elegant Italian style, and
executed in white marble; but, compared with the fairy arcades which
support it, it is clumsiness itself. The court is paved with white
marble slabs, and contains in the centre a small basin of the same
material, of chaste and simple form, once a fountain. The arcades are
supported on pairs of columns, measuring about twelve diameters in
height, and of equal diameter throughout. The capitals are in imitation
of the Corinthian. The entire walls, over and round the arches, are
covered with deep tracery in stucco; the design of which consists of
diamond-shaped compartments, formed by lines descending from the
cornice, and intersecting each other diagonally. These are indented in
small curves, four to each side of the diamond. In each centre is a
shell, surrounded by fanciful ornaments. The same design is repeated on
the inside of the walls, that is, under the arcade, but only on the
outer wall; and this portion of the court is covered with a
richly-ornamented ceiling of Alerce, in the manner called _artesonado_.
On the opposite side of the court to that on which we entered, another
semicircular arch, of equal richness, leads to a room extending the
whole length of the court, and similar in form to that situated at the
entrance, possessing also an ornamental ceiling, but plainer walls. The
left and right sides of the court are shorter than the others. In the
centre of the left side, a deep alcove is formed in the wall, probably
occupied in former times by a sofa or throne: at present it is empty,
with the exception, in one corner, of a dusty collection of _azulejos_
fallen from the walls, and exposing to temptation the itching palms of
enthusiasts. At the opposite end a large arch, admirably carved, and
containing some superb old cedar doors, leads to the Hall of
Ambassadors. This apartment is a square of about thirty-three feet, by
nearly sixty in height. It is also called the _media naranja_
(half-orange), from the form of its ceiling.
[Illustration: GREAT COURT OF THE ALCAZAR, SEVILLE.]
In the centre of each side is an entrance, that from the court consists
of the arch just mentioned, forming a semicircle with the extremities
prolonged in a parallel direction. Those of the three other sides are
each composed of three arches of the horse-shoe form, or three-quarters
of a circle, and supported by two columns of rare marbles and jasper
surmounted by gilded capitals. The walls are entirely covered with
elegant designs, executed in stucco, the effect of which suffers from
a series of small arches, running round the upper part of the room,
having been deprived of their tracery to make room for the painted heads
(more or less resembling) of the kings of Spain, Goths and their
successors, excepting the Arabs and Moors. This degradation is, however,
forgotten from the moment the eye is directed to the ceiling.
In the Arab architecture, the ornament usually becomes more choice, as
it occupies a higher elevation; and the richest and most exquisite
labours of the artist are lavished on the ceilings. The designs are
complicated geometrical problems, by means of which the decorators of
that nation of mathematicians and artists attained to a perfection of
ornament unapproached by any other style. From the cornice of this room
rise clusters of diminutive gilded semi-cupolas, commencing by a single
one, upon which two are supported, and multiplying so rapidly as they
rise, some advancing, others retreating, and each resting on a shoulder
of one below, that, by the time they reach the edge of the great cupola,
they appear to be countless. The ornament of this dome consists of
innumerable gilt projecting bands, of about two inches in width; these
intersect each other in an infinite profusion of curves, as they stretch
over the hemispherical space. The artist, who would make a pencil
sketch of this ceiling, should be as deep a geometrician as the
architect who designed it.
On quitting the Hall of Ambassadors, we arrive at the best part of the
building. Passing through the arcade at the right-hand side, a long
narrow apartment is crossed, which opens on a small court called the
Court of Dolls (Patio de los Muceñas). No description, no painting can
do justice to this exquisite little enclosure. You stand still, gazing
round until your delight changes into astonishment at such an effect
being produced by immoveable walls and a few columns. A space, of about
twenty feet by thirty,--in which ten small pillars, placed at
corresponding but unequal distances, enclose a smaller quadrangle, and
support, over a series of different sized arches, the upper walls,--has
furnished materials to the artist for the attainment of one of the most
successful results in architecture. The Alhambra has nothing equal to
it. Its two large courts surpass, no doubt, in beauty the principal
court of this palace; but, as a whole, this residence, principally from
its being in better preservation and containing more, is superior to
that of Granada, always excepting the advantage derived from the
picturesque site of the latter. The Court of Dolls, at all events, is
unrivalled.
[Illustration: COURT OF DOLLS, ALCAZAR, SEVILLE.[10]]
The architect made here a highly judicious use of some of the best
gleanings from Italica, consisting of a few antique capitals, which,
being separated from their shafts, have been provided with others,
neither made for them, nor even fitted to them. The pillars are small,
and long for their diameter, with the exception of the four which occupy
the angles, which are thicker and all white. The rest are of different
coloured marbles, and all are about six feet in height. The capitals are
of still smaller proportions; so that at the junction they do not cover
the entire top of the shaft. This defect, from what cause it is
difficult to explain, appears to add to their beauty.
The capitals are exquisitely beautiful. One in particular, apparently
Greek, tinged by antiquity with a slight approach to rose colour, is
shaped, as if carelessly, at the will of the sculptor; and derives from
its irregularly rounded volutes and uneven leaves, an inconceivable
grace. The arches are of various shapes, that is, of three different
shapes and dimensions, and whether more care, or better materials were
employed in the tracery of the walls in this court, or for whatever
other reason, it is in better preservation than the other parts of the
palace. It has the appearance of having been newly executed in hard
white stone.
Through the Court of Dolls you pass into an inner apartment, to which it
is a worthy introduction. This room has been selected in modern times,
as being the best in the palace, for the experiment of restoring the
ceiling. The operation has been judiciously executed, and produces an
admirable effect. The design of this ceiling is the most tasteful of the
whole collection. Six or seven stars placed at equal distances from each
other, form centres, from which, following the direction of the sides of
their acute angles, depart as many lines; that is, two from each point;
or, supposing the star to have twelve points--twenty-four from each
star: but these lines soon change their directions, and intersecting
each other repeatedly, form innumerable small inclosures of an hexagonal
shape. The lines are gilt. Each hexagonal compartment rises in relief of
about an inch and a half from the surface, and is ornamented with a
flower, painted in brilliant colours on a dark ground.
The room is twenty-four feet in height by only sixteen wide, and between
sixty and seventy in length. At the two ends, square spaces are
separated from the centre portion by a wall, advancing about two feet
from each side, and supporting an arch, extending across the entire
width. These arches were probably furnished with curtains, which
separated at will the two ends from the principal apartment, and
converted them into sleeping retreats. Their ornaments are still more
choice than those of the centre. With the exception of this room, all
the principal apartments, and the two courts, are decorated from the
ground upwards to a height of about five feet, with the _azulejos_, or
mosaic of porcelain tiles, the colours of which never lose their
brilliancy.
The first floor is probably an addition made entirely subsequently to
the time of the Moors. It contains several suites of plain white-washed
rooms, and only two ornamental apartments, probably of Don Pedro's time.
These are equal to those on the ground floor with respect to the tracery
of the walls, unfortunately almost filled with white-wash; but their
ceilings are plainer. There is a gallery over the Court of Dolls, of a
different sort from the rest, but scarcely inferior in beauty to any
part of the edifice. The pillars, balustrades, and ceilings, are of
wood.
One of the last mentioned apartments has an advantage over all the rest
of the palace, derived from its position. It opens on a terrace looking
over the antique gardens,--a view the most charming and original that
can be imagined. This room must be supposed to have been the boudoir of
Maria Padilla,--the object of the earliest and most durable of Pedro's
attachments; whose power over him outlived the influence of all his
future liaisons. It is indeed probable that the taste for this
residence, and the creation of a large portion of its beauties, are to
be attributed to the mistress, rather than to a gloomy and bloodthirsty
king, as Pedro is represented to have been, and whose existence was
totally unsuited to such a residence. In the Court of Dolls the portion
of pavement is pointed out on which his brother Don Fadrique fell,
slaughtered, as some say, by Pedro's own hand,--at all events in his
presence, and by his order.
This monarch, were his palace not sufficient to immortalize him, would
have a claim to immortality, as having ordered more executions than all
the other monarchs who ever ruled in Spain, added together. It appears
to have been a daily necessity for him; but he derived more than
ordinary satisfaction when an opportunity could be obtained of ordering
an archbishop to the block. The see of Toledo became under him the most
perilous post in the kingdom, next to that of his own relatives: but he
occasionally extended the privilege to other archbishopricks. It is a
relief to meet with a case of almost merited murder in so sanguinary a
list. Such may be termed the adventure of an innocent man, who, seeing
before him a noose which closes upon everything which approaches it,
carefully inserts his neck within the circumference.
This was the case of a monk, who, hearing that Pedro, during one of his
campaigns, was encamped in a neighbouring village, proceeded thither,
and demanded an audience. His request being immediately granted, no
doubt in the expectation of some valuable information respecting the
enemy's movements, the holy man commenced an edifying discourse, in
which he informed Don Pedro, that the venerabilissimo San Somebody (the
saint of his village) had passed a considerable time with him in his
dream of the previous night: that his object in thus miraculously
waiting upon him was, to request he would go to his Majesty, and tell
him, that, owing to the unpardonable disorders of his life, it was
determined he should lose the approaching battle. It was the unhappy
friar's last sermon; for in less than five minutes he had ceased to
exist.
It stands to reason, that, owing to the retired habits of this friar, a
certain anecdote had never reached his ear relative to another member of
a religious fraternity. At a period that had not long preceded the event
just related, the misconduct of this sovereign had drawn down upon him
the displeasure of the head of the church.[11] The thunderbolt was
already forged beneath the arches of the Vatican; but a serious
difficulty presented itself. The culprit was likely to turn upon the
hand employed in inflicting the chastisement. At length a young monk,
known to a member of the holy synod as a genius of promise, energetic
and fertile in resources, was made choice of, who unhesitatingly
undertook the mission. He repaired to Seville, and after a few days'
delay, employed in combining his plan of operation, he got into a boat,
furnished with two stout rowers, and allowing the current to waft him
down the Guadalquivir, until he arrived opposite a portion of the bank
known to be the daily resort of the King, he approached the shore, and
waited his opportunity.
At the accustomed hour the royal cavalcade was seen to approach; when,
standing up in the boat, which was not allowed to touch the shore, he
made signs that he would speak to the party. The monkish costume
commanded respect even from royalty, and Don Pedro reined in his horse.
The monk then inquired whether it would gratify his Majesty to listen to
the news of certain remarkable occurrences that had taken place in the
East, from which part of the world he had just arrived. The King
approached, and ordered him to tell his story: upon which he unrolled
the fatal document, and with all possible rapidity of enunciation read
it from beginning to end.
Before it was concluded, the King had drawn his sword, and spurred his
horse to the brink of the water; but at his first movement the boat had
pushed off,--the reader still continuing his task,--so that by the time
Pedro found himself completely excommunicated, his rage passing all
bounds, he had dashed into the water, directing a sabre cut, which only
reached the boat's stern. He still, however, spurred furiously on, and
compelled his horse to swim a considerable distance; until, the animal
becoming exhausted, he only regained the shore after being in serious
danger of drowning. It may easily be imagined that the papal messenger,
satisfied with his success, avoided the contact of terra firma, until he
found himself clear of Pedro's dominions.
Quitting the room--that of Maria Padilla (according to my conjecture) by
the door which leads to the terrace, you look down on a square portion
of ground, partitioned off from the rest by walls, against which
orange-trees are trained like our wall-fruit trees, only so thickly that
no part of the masonry is visible. All the walls in the garden are thus
masked by a depth of about eight inches of leaves evenly clipped. In the
fruit season the effect is admirable. The small square portions next to
the palace thus partitioned off are laid out in flower-beds, separated
by walks of mixed brick and porcelain, all of which communicate with
fountains in the centres. The fountains, simple and destitute of the
usual classical menagerie of marine zoology and gods and goddesses,
whose coöperation is so indispensable in most European gardens to the
propulsion of each curling thread or gushing mass of the cold
element,--derive all their charm from the purity and taste displayed in
their design. One of the most beautiful of them consists merely of a
raised step, covered with _azulejos_, enclosing a space of an hexagonal
form, in the centre of which the water rises from a small block of
corresponding form and materials. The mosaic is continued outside the
step, but covers only a narrow space.
[Illustration: FOUNTAINS AT THE ALCAZAR.]
The terrace stretches away to the left as far as the extremity of the
buildings, the façade of which is hollowed out into a series of
semicircular alcoves; there being no doors nor windows, with the
exception of the door of the room through which we issued. The alcoves
are surrounded with seats, and form so many little apartments, untenable
during the summer, as they look to the south, but forming excellent
winter habitations. Arrived at the extremity of the palace front, the
promenade may be continued at the same elevation down another whole side
of the gardens, along a terrace of two stories, which follows the outer
enclosure. This terrace is very ornamental. From the ground up to a
third of its height, its front is clothed with the orange-tree, in the
same manner as the walls already described. Immediately above runs a
rustic story of large projecting stones, which serves as a basement for
the covered gallery, or lower of the two walks. This gallery is closed
on the outside, which is part of the town wall. The front or garden side
is composed of a series of rustic arches, alternately larger and
smaller, formed of rugged stones, such as are used for grottoes, and of
a dark brown colour--partly natural, partly painted.
The arches are supported by marble columns, or rather fragments of
columns,--all the mutilated antique trunks rummaged out of Italica. For
a shaft of insufficient length a piece is found of the dimensions
required to make up the deficiency, and placed on its top without mortar
or cement. Some of the capitals are extremely curious. Among them almost
every style may be traced, from the Hindoo to the Composite: but no one
is entire, nor matched with any part of the column it was originally
destined to adorn. Over this gallery is the open terrace, which
continues that of the palace side on the same level. The view extends in
all directions, including the gardens and the surrounding country; for
we are here at the extremity of the town. At the furthest end the
edifice widens, and forms an open saloon, surrounded with seats,
glittering with the bright hues of the _azulejos_.
From these terraces you look down on the portion of the garden in which
the royal arms are represented, formed with myrtle-hedges. Eagles,
lions, castellated towers,--all are accurately delineated. Myrtle-hedges
are also used in all parts of the gardens as borders to the walks. It is
a charming evening's occupation to wander through the different
enclosures of these gardens, which, although not very extensive, are
characterised by so much that is uncommon in their plan and ornaments,
that the lounger is never weary of them. Nor is the visible portion of
their attractions more curious than the hidden sources of amusement
and--ablution, by means of which an uninitiated wanderer over these
china-paved walks, may be unexpectedly, and more than necessarily
refreshed. By means of a handle, concealed--here in the lungs of some
bathing Diana in the recesses of her grotto--here in the hollow of a
harmless looking stone--an entire line of walk is instantaneously
converted into a stage of hydraulics--displaying to the spectator a long
line of embroidery, composed of thousands of silver threads sparkling in
the sunshine, as issuing from unseen apertures in the pavement they
cross each other at a height of a few feet from the ground, forming an
endless variety of graceful curves. Almost all the walks are sown with
these _burladores_, as they are termed.
A large portion of the grounds consists of an orange-grove, varied with
sweet lemon-trees. The trees are sufficiently near to each other to
afford universal shade, without being so thickly planted as to interfere
with the good-keeping of the grass, nor with the movement of promenading
parties. In the centre of this grove is a beautiful edifice,--a square
pavilion entirely faced, within and without, with the _azulejos_, with
the exception only of the roof. Around it is a colonnade of white
marble, enclosing a space raised two feet above the ground, and
surrounded by a seat of the same mosaic. The interior is occupied by a
table, surrounded with seats.
The subterranean baths, called the baths of Maria Padilla, are entered
from the palace end of the garden. They extend to a considerable
distance under the palace, and must during the summer heats, have been a
delightfully cool retreat.
This _alcazar_ is probably the best specimen of a Moorish residence
remaining in Europe. The Alhambra would, no doubt, have surpassed it,
but for the preference accorded by the Emperor, Charles the Fifth, to
its situation over that of Seville: owing to which he contented himself
with building a gallery over the principal court at the latter; while at
Granada, he destroyed a large portion of the old buildings, which he
replaced by an entire Italian palace. At present the ornamented
apartments of the Seville palace are more numerous, and in better
preservation than those of the Alhambra.
Both, however, would have been thrown into the shade, had any
proportionate traces existed of the palace of Abderahman the Third, in
the environs of Cordova. Unfortunately nothing of this remains but the
description. It is among the few Arab manuscripts which escaped the
colossal _auto-da-fé_ of Ferdinand and Isabella, and would appear too
extravagant to merit belief, but for the known minuteness and accuracy
of the Arab writers, proved by their descriptions of the palaces and
other edifices which remain to afford the test of comparison.
The immense wealth lavished by these princes, must also be taken into
consideration, and especially by the Caliphs of Cordova, who possessed a
far more extended sway than belonged to the subsequent dynasties of
Seville and Granada. According to a custom prevalent at their court,
rich presents were offered to the sovereign on various occasions. Among
others, governors of provinces, on their nomination, seldom neglected
this practical demonstration of gratitude. This practice is to this day
observed at the court of the Turkish Sultan, and serves to swell the
treasury in no small degree. Abderahman the Third, having granted a
government to the brother of his favourite, Ahmed ben Sayd, the two
brothers joined purses, and offered a present made up of the following
articles--accompanied by delicate and ingenious compliments in verse,
for the composition of which they employed the most popular poet of the
day:--Four hundred pounds weight of pure gold; forty thousand sequins in
ingots of silver; four hundred pounds of aloes; five hundred ounces of
amber; three hundred ounces of camphor; thirty pieces of tissue of gold
and silk; a hundred and ten fine furs of Khorasan; forty-eight
caparisons of gold and silk, woven at Bagdad; four thousand pounds of
silk in balls; thirty Persian carpets; eight hundred suits of armour; a
thousand shields; a hundred thousand arrows; fifteen Arabian, and a
hundred Spanish horses, with their trappings and equipments; sixty young
slaves--forty male, and twenty female.
The palace near Cordova, erected by this sovereign, was called Azarah
(the Flower) after the name of his favourite mistress. Its materials
consisted entirely of marble and cedar wood; and it contained four
thousand three hundred columns. It was sufficiently spacious to lodge
the whole court, besides a guard of cavalry. The gardens, as was usual
with the Arabs, formed the part of the residence on which were lavished
the greatest treasures of wealth, and the choicest inventions of taste.
The fountains were endless in number and variety. On one of the most
picturesque spots was situated an edifice called the Caliph's Pavilion.
It consisted of a circular gallery of white marble columns with gilded
capitals; in the centre rose a fountain of quicksilver, imitating all
the movements of water, and glittering in the sun with a brightness too
dazzling for the eye to support. Several of the saloons of this palace
were ornamented with fountains. In one, which bore the name of the
Caliph's Saloon, a fountain of jasper contained in the centre a golden
swan of beautiful workmanship--and over it hung from the ceiling a
pearl, which had been sent from Constantinople as a present from the
Greek Emperor to Abderahman. The mosque of this palace surpassed in
riches, although not in size, the Aljama of Cordova.
These were monuments worthy to have kings and caliphs for architects,
for such they had. There is no doubt that the palace of Azahrah was
planned and designed by the Caliph himself; and the founder of that
dynasty, Abderahman the First, not only designed the magnificent mosque
of Cordova, but presided daily over the progress of its erection.
Possessed, as these sovereigns were, as well as all the well-born
portion of their nation, of a highly cultivated education, the intervals
of leisure, left them by war, were rarely thrown away in idleness.
Abderahman the First was a poet, besides being a mathematician, an
architect, and the first soldier of his time. Some of his writings have
been preserved, and are among the Arab works collected and translated by
Condé into Spanish. The following stanzas, addressed to a palm-tree,
must be, as is always the case, still more beautiful in the original,
although charming in the Spanish. The monarch of the Western Empire,
after having vanquished his enemies, and pacified his dominions,--beloved
by his subjects and by all who approached him, and possessed of the
resources of science to occupy his mind, was nevertheless unhappy. He
preferred his home in Asia to the splendours of an imperial throne in
such a land as Andalucia. He caused a young palm-tree to be brought from
Syria, and planted in a garden formed by him in the environs of Cordova;
and it was his delight to sit in a tower constructed in the garden, and
gaze at his tree.
It was to this tree he addressed the lines thus translated:--
Tu tambien, insigne palma,
Eres aqui forastera.
De Algarbe las dulces auras
Tu pompa halagan y besan.
En fecundo suelo arraigas,
Y al cielo tu cima elevas,
Tristes lagrimas lloraras,
Si qual io sentir pudieras.
Tu no sientes contratiempos
Como io de suerte aviesa:
A mi de pena y dolor
Continuas lluvias me annegan.
Con mis lagrimas regue
Las palmas que el Forat riega,
Pero las palmas y el rio
Se olvidan de mis penas.
Cuando mios infaustos hados,
Y de Al. Abas la fiereza
Mi forzaron de dexar
Del alma las dulces prendas;
A ti de mi patria amada
Ningun recuerda ti queda;
Pero io, triste, no puedo
Dexar de llorar por ella.
It is probable that on the occasion of the surrender of Cordova to
Ferdinand the Third, the Moors destroyed their palace of Azarah, since
they were desirous of acting in a similar manner at Seville, with regard
to Geber's Tower. Perhaps from disgust at the idea that a monument, the
beauty and grandeur of which had inspired them with a sort of affection,
would be, being gazed at, trodden, and possibly disfigured, (as it
turned out) by those whom they looked upon as barbarians, and who would
not appreciate its perfection, they attempted to introduce a clause into
the conditions of the surrender of Seville, stipulating the destruction
of the tower.
By way of testifying to the accuracy of the opinion they had formed of
their adversaries, Saint Ferdinand was on the point of agreeing to the
clause: when his son, afterwards his successor, Alonso el Sabio, perhaps
the only Christian present, who felt sufficient interest in a square
mass of masonry, to care how the question was decided, energetically
interfered, affirming that a single brick displaced, should be paid with
the lives of the whole population.
This most perfect scientific monument left by the Arabs, for the
possession of which, after the architect, Europe is indebted to Alonso
the Tenth, we will presently examine, together with the cathedral, which
was afterwards erected, so as to include it in his plan.
LETTER XIX
CATHEDRAL OF SEVILLE.
Seville.
We have visited the most beautiful edifice in Seville; we are now
approaching the most magnificent. The native writers, participating
somewhat in the character attributed to the inhabitants of their
province, sometimes called the Gascony of Spain, declare this cathedral
to be the grandest in the world. This is going too far; setting aside
St. Peter's, and the Santa Maria del Fiore, the style of which renders
the comparison more difficult, the Duomo of Milan, of which this
building appears to be an imitation, must be allowed to be superior to
it, externally at least, if not internally. Had they ranked it as the
finest church out of Italy, they would not have been much in error, for
such it probably is.