Madrid and Cordova—Seville—General von Goeben and the
Bull-fight—A View from the Alhambra—I rejoin my Regiment
I spent my winter leave in Paris, where I suffered more or less all the
time from rheumatism of the heart, for which I took a good many Turkish
baths, without, however, obtaining much relief. My doctor told me that it
would be unwise to return to Aldershot when my leave was up, and advised
me to spend the rest of the winter in Spain. Accordingly, I went before
a medical board in London, one of the members of which was Surgeon-Major
Clarke, of the Royal Horse Artillery, whom I had known in India, and was
granted three months’ sick leave. I returned to Paris with my father, who
had accompanied me to London, and Lord Henry Paget (afterwards Marquis
of Anglesey), and on the following evening left the Gare d’Orléans for
Madrid.
After two nights and a day in the train, I reached Madrid, which, as it
was carnival time, was very gay. I took a room at the Hôtel de Paris,
and after breakfast called on Doña Queñones de Léon, who lived in a huge
house like a palace, and who received me in a drawing-room, in the centre
of which a small fountain was playing. In the evening, I visited the
Opera, but was not very favourably impressed by, the performance. The
following day, through the good offices of the Marquis de San Carlos, I
was able to visit the Royal Stables and the Armeria, with which I was
quite delighted. Afterwards I walked in the Prado, which was crowded with
carriages, all the occupants of which were masked. Some of the carriages
were drawn by mules, and a few by donkeys. In the evening, I dined with
the Marquis de San Carlos, when I met Doña Queñones de Léon and two
daughters of Queen Christina and a daughter of the Marquis. The next day
I visited the Museum, and then went again to the Prado, where I saw the
King and princesses in an open carriage. The crush was so great that
one could hardly move. After dinner, I visited Señora Queñones de Léon,
with whom I found the Marquis de San Carlos and his sons, and, at their
request, played some airs on the zither.
From Madrid I went to Cordova, where I stayed at the Hôtel Suiza.
Cordova is an interesting town, containing, as it does, so much Moorish
architecture. Some of the streets are so narrow that there is barely room
for two people to walk abreast, and it is infested by hordes of beggars,
mostly children in an almost nude condition. The smallness of their hands
and feet betray their Moorish origin.
After spending a couple of days at Cordova and visiting the Cathedral,
with its pillars of porphyry, I took the train for Seville, where I put
up at the Hôtel des Quatre Nations. At dinner that evening I sat next
to a young man who, I afterwards learned, was a son of the President of
Brazil. As I intended to remain for some time at Seville, I looked out
for a _casa de huespedes_ (boarding-house), which I found in the Plaza
Nueva. The Plaza Nueva is the finest square in Seville, and contains a
great number of orange-trees, which at night and early morning throw out
the most delicious fragrance imaginable. My rooms overlooked the Plaza,
and at times the perfume of the orange-blossoms, which the Spaniards call
“_azahár_,” was so overpowering that one felt almost intoxicated.
The _casa de huespedes_ was kept by three young girls—sisters—of the
name of De Larriva, who told me that they would teach me Spanish.
The youngest, who was called Manuela, was a very pretty brunette of
seventeen, with jet-black hair, beautiful white teeth, and those peculiar
black eyes which are rarely seen except in the South. She it was who
gave me the most instruction, for, though her two sisters spoke French
fairly well, while Manuela spoke no language but her own, she was by far
the prettiest of the trio, and I not unnaturally preferred being taught
by her. She began by telling me the names of the parts of the face, and
gradually taught me to pay all kinds of compliments. By her advice, I
took some lessons, besides, from a professional teacher of the language.
Life at this _casa de huespedes_ was very pleasant, apart from the food,
which, to an English palate, was detestable, for every dish was prepared
with olive-oil, and even the poached eggs tasted of it. The butter was
imported from Holland and the milk condensed. I lived chiefly on oranges,
for I found nearly everything else unpleasant to the taste. We used to
sit down twenty-five to dinner, as a number of Artillery officers from
the garrison were in the habit of dining there.
Among my fellow-guests was an Englishman of seventy, a Mr. Heaviside,
who had come to Seville on purpose to learn to read “Don Quixote” in
the original old Spanish. Manuela used to tease him, by encouraging him
to speak Spanish, of which he knew very little. I often went with him
to a café of an evening to hear the _bandhurria_ played with the piano,
and occasionally I went for a walk with the sisters De Larriva in the
fine gardens of the Paseo, where there were many tropical plants growing
out in the open air, and lemon and orange trees perfumed the atmosphere
deliciously.
An officer whom I knew, Surgeon-Major Orton, happened to be spending
his leave at Seville, and with him I went to visit the Museum, with
its lovely pictures by Murillo, and the Alcazar, with which we were
delighted, the walls being covered with beautiful designs in the style
of the Alhambra. I also visited the Giralda, the view from which is
very fine, the Carridad, where there were many pictures by Murillo and
exquisite wood-carvings by Rollas, and the cathedral, which is one of the
largest in the world.
During the winter the _patio_, or courtyard, of the houses in Seville
is but little used, but when spring comes, people spend a great part of
their time there. When Spaniards get together they invariably dance
with castanet accompaniments. Sometimes they dance the Seguidillas, the
Sevillana, or the Fandango, which is very pretty to watch, as both men
and women dance with so much _élan_. This is very much the custom, even
in aristocratic houses, the looker-on applauding and exclaiming: “_Ollé,
graziosa, muy bien, ollé, ollé!_” when one of the girls attempts some
unusual feat.
One evening I went with some of the people at the boarding-house to the
Calle Trajano to see the dancing there. An exceedingly pretty little
girl, of ten or eleven, though she appeared much older, with black hair,
dressed like a Spanish woman, with a number of curls round the face,
danced with a man dancer the “_torrero y la Malagueña_.” In which dance
she displayed all the marvellous art of a _première danseuse_, dancing on
her points and executing the most difficult _entrechats_, _battements_
and _pas de chat_, which would have done credit to a dancer double her
age. Then, suddenly, she darted across the room, with her handkerchief
in her hand, and before I had time to realize what had happened she had
thrown the handkerchief into my lap and rushed away again. Somewhat
embarrassed, I inquired of those sitting near me what I was supposed to
do, and was told that I was expected to put some money into it, and that
the little _danseuse_ would come and fetch it. After the performance, I
spoke to the little girl, who told me that her name was Salud, and asked
me to come and see her. I went the following day, when she danced for me
and gave me her photograph. Afterwards, I often went to the Calle Trajano
of an evening, where I sometimes danced with the Spanish girls, and on
one occasion danced a polka-mazurka with Salud.
During Holy Week and the “Feria,” which followed it, Seville was crowded
with visitors, and the prices at the hôtels and _casas de huespedes_
were all increased. Among the visitors who came to my boarding-house
was General von Goeben, who commanded a division of the German Army in
the Franco-German War of 1870, and after whom the notorious battleship
of Dardanelles fame was named, and the Marquis de Rampa, an immensely
wealthy Spanish nobleman, and his daughter. I sat next to the daughter,
who was quite a young girl, at table, and was obliged to make what play I
could with my Spanish, as she spoke no other language.
The processions which took place day and night during Holy Week were very
imposing. Images of the Virgin Mary figured in all of them. The trains of
the dresses, which were of immense length and generally of blue or violet
velvet, must have cost thousands of pounds, as they were most exquisitely
embroidered with gold and silver lace, diamonds, rubies, emeralds and
pearls. They were carried by young girls. On Palm Sunday, the people
who took part in the procession were dressed in black, with their faces
covered, and palm-branches in their hands. On Holy Thursday, I went to
the Cathedral to see the Archbishop of Seville wash the feet of the poor.
There was a tremendous crush, and Baron von Münchhausen, a Bavarian
nobleman, who was with me, had his gold watch stolen.
The “Feria” was a very pretty sight. All the principal families in
Seville took part in it, each having a separate tent, in which they
entertained their friends and sold various objects, somewhat after the
fashion of our charity bazaars. In some of these tents the saleswomen
were young girls, gorgeously dressed in red and yellow satin embroidered
with white lace and wearing white lace mantillas. To most of the tents
you had to receive an invitation before you were allowed to enter, when
you were offered chocolate or coffee, and, in those belonging to rich
families, champagne and other wines, the buffets being laid out with a
great display of silver plate and flowers. In the evening, the different
families visited each other’s tents, and the dancing of Fandangos,
Boleros and Seguidillas was kept up until past midnight.
The Carrerras de Caballos (Horse Show) was held in another part of the
grounds. Here I met Lord Torphichen, of the Rifle Brigade, who had come
from Gibraltar, where his battalion was stationed. He was very surprised
to see me, as few British officers ever visited Seville.
One of the chief attractions of the “Feria” was the bull-fight, to
which all the ladies of Seville went, wearing white mantillas and their
choicest jewels. I went with Baron von Münchhausen and General von
Goeben. But the latter took his departure very early, observing that,
though he had seen a great deal of bloodshed during the Franco-German
War, he felt quite faint and could not possibly stand any more of such
a disgusting spectacle. On my return to the boarding-house, Manuela
inquired if I had not been delighted with the bull-fight, saying that
it was the grandest sight in Spain and that nothing gave her so much
pleasure. I told her that I thought it very cruel to the unfortunate
horses, when she rejoined that, “they were old screws and no longer of
any use.” I remarked that that did not prevent them suffering, upon which
she said that hunting was equally cruel, and that it was a matter of
prejudice and nothing else.
“Besides,” added she, “racing is cruel on the horses, some people say.”
After that I saw that it was useless to pursue the argument further.
During the “Feria,” the ladies of Seville dressed in colours, but at
other times most women and girls wore black. There were some very pretty
women in Seville, but the beauties were generally to be found among the
lower classes, most of whom have Moorish blood in their veins, which
gives them a darker complexion, but also smaller features and very tiny
hands and feet. Théophile Gautier observes that there is nothing more
charming than the foot of an Andalusian woman, which makes even that of a
Frenchwoman appear large.
During my stay at Seville, I paid a visit to Cadiz. The approach to
Cadiz is perfectly lovely and has often been compared to the approach to
Constantinople. Seen from a distance, the town appears to be built of the
most exquisitely white marble; while the sea, which seems to surround
it, is of a beautiful sapphire, which rivals in loveliness the heavens
above, though, as it was early morning, the colour of the sky was more
like that of the turquoise. This illusion is destroyed, however, when one
enters Cadiz, as many of the houses are very far from being of the snowy
whiteness which distance had lent to them.
At Cadiz, where I put up at the Hôtel des Quatre Nations, I came across
a Mr. Rueff, whom I had met at Cordova, and in his company explored
the town and visited several of the churches, where Mr. Rueff was
much interested in the wood-carving, some of which was of exquisite
workmanship. The day before returning to Seville, I went with Mr. Rueff
by rail to Jerez, where we visited the wine cellars of Señor Misa, who
supplied my own and most of the best regiments in England with wine.
Señor Misa invited us to taste some of his best wines, including one
which was bottled in the year of the Battle of Waterloo. He told us that
it was sold at £3 the bottle, but it never left the country.
Mr. Rueff accompanied me back to Seville, and together we visited the
Fondacion, where the cannons are made, and the Casa de Pilatus, the
supposed house of Pontius Pilate. A few days later, I paid a visit to
Granada, where the red hills and grey rocks and the elm trees with
their massive foliage formed an agreeable contrast to the flat and
barren country around Seville. On entering the Alhambra, I was fortunate
enough to make the acquaintance of two English ladies, one of whom was
married to a Portuguese nobleman and lived in the Alhambra. These ladies
very kindly volunteered to show me all over the Alhambra and explain
everything to me, an offer which I gladly accepted. The Alhambra reminded
me to some extent of the Alcazar at Seville, as it is built in the same
style of Moorish architecture, though on a much larger and grander scale.
The Court of Lions and the adjacent rooms are exquisitely constructed,
and the marvellous decoration of the walls, with their blending of
colours and intricate designs, impart a magnificence to the “_tout
ensemble_” almost impossible to describe.
One of the most exquisite views I can remember, I had when the sun was
setting from one of the windows of the Alhambra, from which I could see
the mountains of the Sierra Nevada, with their summits covered in snow.
The colours which the sun’s declining rays imparted to the clouds were of
all the various shades of the opal, making some of the tiny clouds appear
like roses in the heavens, and the heavens themselves as though on fire.
Then gradually the colours became more subdued, and every shade melted
away, from the deepest red to the most delicate violet, leaving here
and there a bunch of roses, which resembled in their pale _nuance_ the
Souvenir à la Malmaison or Blanche Laffitte. This was the effect of the
after-glow.
The next day, the two ladies took me to see the Cartuja and the
Cathedral, and on the following afternoon I went with them for a drive
into the country, during which I had a splendid view of the Sierra
Nevada. After dinner, I went again to the Alhambra to take leave of my
kind friends, and heard the nightingales sing as I had never heard before
or since in my life.
Early next morning I left Granada for Seville. At a lonely spot beyond
Antequeria the train came to a stop, owing to the line being blocked by
a broken-down engine, and we were told that it might be some time before
we should be able to proceed. Many of the passengers appeared greatly
alarmed, and, on inquiring the reason, I was informed that this part of
the country was infested by brigands, who might at any moment come down
upon us. However, we saw nothing of these gentry, and at the end of a
couple of hours the engine which barred our way was got off the rails,
and we continued our journey.
Towards the end of April, the weather became intolerably hot at
Seville, and I reluctantly decided to bring my stay there to a close. I
accordingly bade farewell to Manuela and my other friends at the _casa
de huespedes_ and took the train for Madrid, where I again put up at the
Hôtel de Paris. I stayed for some days at Madrid, visited two or three of
the principal theatres and dined with Doña Queñones de Léon, the Marquis
de San Carlos, and other people whom I knew. I also went several times to
the Museum, where I made the acquaintance of a Señorita Hélène de España,
a wonderfully pretty girl of seventeen, who was engaged in copying a
painting by Van Dyck. This Señorita Hélène de España was a blonde with
blue eyes and fair hair, a type of beauty not often met with in Spain,
but it appeared that she was of English descent on her mother’s side,
though she could not speak English. She seemed to be a young lady of a
rather romantic temperament, for, after a very short acquaintance, she
told me that I might serenade her by night beneath her window. But I did
not avail myself of this permission, which I often regretted since not
having done.
Before leaving Madrid, I spent a day at Toledo, where, under the wing of
a guide, I visited the Cathedral of San Juan de los Reyes, the Jewish
synagogue, and the royal manufactory of steel weapons. This manufactory
is one of the best in Europe, and the way in which the upper part of
the blades of the swords and daggers made here is inlaid in gold and
silver gives them a very costly as well as a very charming appearance.
Some of the weapons were for sale, and I purchased a very fine dagger,
beautifully inlaid with gold arabesque designs. These daggers are of so
fine a steel that they will easily pierce a silver coin without breaking.
Toledo is one of the oldest towns in Spain, and the last place in which
the Jews were allowed to reside before they were banished from Spain.
This accounts for its inhabitants having a Jewish cast of countenance.
I arrived in Paris on my birthday, May 5th. The Exhibition had now begun,
and I visited it on several occasions with my father and other friends. I
was much interested in the prize zithers sent by Anton Kiendl of Vienna,
which were truly beautiful instruments, and very delighted with the
playing of a Hungarian gipsy band in the Austro-Hungarian section of the
Exhibition. At the Grand Opéra I heard _l’Africaine_ for the second time,
and also went to the Théâtre de la Renaissance to see _le Petit Duc_, in
which Mlle. Granier and Emil Meyer sang, and to the “Français,” where
I saw Got, Coquelin and Mlles. Reichemberg, Agar and Croizette in _les
Fourchambault_. I attended a race-meeting at Longchamps with my father,
where we met the Hon. Albert Bingham and Howard Vyse, who returned with
us to Paris, and in the evening we went to Musard’s Concert, at which the
Prince of Wales was present. Altogether, I had a very pleasant time, but
my three months’ sick leave was now on the point of expiring, and I was
obliged to return to England to rejoin my regiment.