CHAPTER XIV.

FROM CADIZ TO BARCELONA--AND HOME.

Cadiz--Visit to the brig "Le Voltigeur"--The

Rateros--Jeres--Bull-fights--The

Steamer--Gibraltar--Carthagena--Valencia--The Lonja de Seda--The

Convent de la Merced--The Valencians--Barcelona--The Return to

France.

After we had been travelling so long on horseback, on mules,

in carts, and in _galeras_, the steamer struck us as something

miraculous, in the style of the magic carpet of Fortunatus, or the

staff of Abaris. The power of devouring space with the rapidity of

an arrow, and that, too, without any trouble, fatigue, or jolting,

while you quietly pace the deck, and see the long lines of the

shore glide past you, in defiance of the caprices of wind and

tide, is certainly one of the finest inventions of the human mind.

For the first time, perhaps, I was of opinion that civilization

had its good points, I do not say its attractive ones, for all

that it produces is disfigured by ugliness, and thus betrays its

complicated and diabolical origin. Compared to a sailing-vessel, a

steamer, however convenient it may be, appears hideous. The former

looks like a swan spreading its white wings to the gentle breeze,

while the latter resembles a stove running away as fast as it can,

on the back of a water-mill.

But however this may be, the floats of the wheels, assisted by the

stream, were driving rapidly towards Cadiz. Seville was beginning

to fade away behind us, but, by a magnificent optical effect, in

the same proportion as the roofs of the houses appeared to sink

into the ground and become confounded with the distant lines of the

horizon, the cathedral increased, and seemed to assume the most

enormous size, like an elephant standing up in the midst of a flock

of sheep lying down all around; it was not till that moment that I

gained a just idea of its immensity. The highest church-steeples

did not rise above the nave. As for the Gualda, distance gave its

rose-coloured bricks an amethyst, adventurine tint, which seems

to me incompatible with our dull climate. The statue of Faith

glittered on the summit like a golden bee on the top of a large

blade of grass. Shortly afterwards, a turn in the river concealed

Seville from our sight.

The banks of the Guadalquiver, at least as you descend the river

towards the sea, do not possess that enchanting aspect that the

descriptions of travellers and poets attribute to them. I have not

the remotest idea where these gentlemen have got the groves of

orange and pomegranate-trees, with which they perfume their songs.

In reality, you see nothing but low, sandy, ochre-coloured banks,

and yellow, troubled water, whose earthy tint cannot be attributed

to the rains, since the latter are so rare. I had already remarked

a similar want of limpidity in the Tagus; it arises, perhaps,

from the large quantity of dust that the wind carries into the

water, and from the friable nature of the soil through which the

river passes. The strong blue of the sky, also, has some share in

producing this effect, and by its extreme intensity, causes the

tones of the water, which are always less vivid, to appear dirty.

The sea alone can dispute the palm of transparency and azure with

such a sky. The river continued to become broader and broader, and

the banks flatter and smaller, while the general aspect of the

scenery reminded me forcibly of the physiognomy of the Scheldt

about Antwerp and Ostend. This recollection of Flanders in the

heart of Andalusia, seems rather strange in connexion with the

Moorish-named Guadalquiver, but it suggested itself to my mind so

naturally, that the resemblance must have been very striking; for

I can assure my readers that I was not then troubling myself about

the Scheldt nor my voyage to Flanders, some six or seven years

ago. Besides, the river presented no very animated appearance,

and the country which we could see beyond the banks appeared

uncultivated and deserted. It is true that we were in the middle

of the dog-days, during which Spain is hardly anything more than

a vast cinder-heap, without vegetation or verdure. The only

living creatures visible were herons and storks, standing with

one leg tucked under their breast and the other one half immersed

in the water, watching for some fish to pass, and so perfectly

motionless that they might almost have been mistaken for wooden

birds stuck upon a stick. Barks with lateen sails, diverging from

each other, floated up and down the stream, impelled by the same

wind--a phenomenon I could never understand, although I have had it

explained to me several times. Some of these vessels had a third

and smaller sail, in the shape of an isosceles triangle, placed

between two larger sails, a kind of rig which is highly picturesque.

About four or five o'clock in the afternoon we passed San Lucar,

which is situated on the left bank. A large modern building, built

in that regular, hospital, or barrack style, which constitutes the

charm of all the edifices of the present day, had on its front some

inscription or other which we could not read, a circumstance that

we regretted but slightly. This square many-windowed affair was

built by Ferdinand VII., and must be a custom-house, or warehouse,

or something of the kind. Beyond San Lucar the Guadalquiver

becomes very broad, and begins to assume the proportions of an

arm of the sea. The banks form only a continually decreasing line

between the water and the sky. The view is certainly grand, but

rather monotonous, and we should have found the time hang heavily

on our hands, had it not been for the games, the dancing, the

castagnettes, and the tambourines of the soldiers. One of them, who

had witnessed the performances of an Italian company, counterfeited

the words, singing, and gestures of both actors and actresses,

especially the latter, with great gaiety and talent. His comrades

were obliged to hold their sides for laughter, and appeared to

have entirely forgotten the touching scene which accompanied their

departure. Perhaps their weeping Ariadnes had also dried their

tears, and were laughing quite as heartily. The passengers on board

the steamer entered fully into the general hilarity, and seemed

to vie with each other as to who should prove most successfully

the fulness of that reputation for imperturbable gravity that the

Spaniards enjoy in all the countries of Europe. The time of Philip

II., with its black costume, its starched ruffs, its devout looks,

and its proud cold faces, is much more passed than is generally

imagined.

After leaving San Lucar behind us, we entered the open sea by an

almost imperceptible transition; the waves became transformed

into long, regular volutes, the water changed colour, and so did

the faces of the persons on board. Those doomed to suffer that

strange malady which is termed sea-sickness, began to seek out

the most solitary corners, and to lean in a melancholy manner

against the rigging. As for myself, I took my seat valiantly on

the top of the cabin, near the paddle-box, determined to study my

sensations conscientiously; for, never having made a sea-voyage, I

did not know whether I was fated to suffer the same indescribable

torture or not. The first few see-saw movements of the vessel

surprised me slightly, but I soon felt better, and resumed all my

usual serenity. On leaving the Guadalquiver we kept to the left,

and coasted along the shore, but at such a distance as only to

be enabled to distinguish it with difficulty; for evening was

approaching, and the sun was descending majestically into the

sea by a glittering staircase formed of five or six steps of the

richest purple clouds.

It was perfectly dark when we reached Cadiz. The lanterns of the

ships and smaller craft at anchor in the roads, the lights in the

town, and the stars in the sky, literally covered the waves with

millions of golden, silver, and fiery spangles; where the water was

calmer, the reflection of the beacons, as it stretched over the

sea, formed long columns of flame of the most magical effect. The

enormous mass of the ramparts loomed strangely through the thick

darkness.

In order to land, it was necessary for ourselves and our luggage to

be shifted into small boats, the boatmen fighting with one another,

and vociferating in the most horrible manner, for the passengers

and trunks, in about the same style as that which was formerly

patronised at Paris by the drivers of the Coucons for Montmorency

and Vincennes. My companion and myself had the utmost difficulty

not to be separated from each other, for one boatman was pulling us

to the right, and another to the left, with a degree of energy that

was not at all calculated to inspire us with any great confidence,

especially as all this contention took place in cockle-shells, that

oscillated like the swings at a fair. We were deposited on the

quay, however, without accident, and, after having been examined

by the custom-house officers, whose bureau was situated under the

archway of the city gates, in the thickness of the wall, we went to

lodge in the Calle de San Francisco.

As may easily be imagined, we rose with the dawn. The fact of

entering, for the first time, a town at night, is one of the things

which most excites the curiosity of a traveller: he makes the most

desperate endeavours to distinguish the general appearance of the

streets, the form of the public buildings, and the physiognomies

of the few people he meets in the dark, so that he has at least

the pleasure of being surprised, when, the next morning, the town

suddenly appears all at once before him, like the scene in a

theatre when the curtain is raised.

Neither the palette of the painter nor the pen of the writer

possesses colours sufficiently bright, nor tints sufficiently

luminous, to convey any idea of the brilliant effect that Cadiz

produced upon us that glorious morning. Two unique tints struck our

view; blue and white--the blue as vivid as turquoises, sapphires,

or cobalt, in fact the very deepest azure that can be imagined,

and the white as pure as silver, snow, milk, marble, or the finest

crystallized sugar! The blue was the sky repeated by the sea; the

white was the town. It is impossible to conceive anything more

radiant and more dazzling--to imagine light more diffused, and, at

the same time, more intense. In sober truth, what we term the sun

in France is, in comparison, nothing but a pale night-lamp at the

last gasp, by the bedside of a sick man.

The houses at Cadiz are much loftier than those in the other towns

of Spain. This is explained by the conformation of the ground,

which is a small narrow island connected with the continent by a

mere strip of land, as well as from the general desire to have a

view of the sea. Each house stands on tiptoe with eager curiosity,

in order to look over its neighbour's shoulder, and raise itself

above the thick girdle of ramparts. This, however, is not always

found sufficient, and at the angle of nearly all the terraces,

there is a turret, a kind of belvedere, sometimes surmounted by a

little cupola. These aërial miradores enrich the outline of the

town with innumerable dentations, and produce a most picturesque

effect. Every building is whitewashed, and the brilliancy of

the façades is increased still more by long lines of vermilion

which separate the houses and mark out the different stories: the

balconies, which project very far, are enclosed in large glass

cages, furnished with red curtains and filled with flowers. Some

of the cross streets terminate on the open space, and seem to end

in the sky. These stray bits of azure charm you by their being so

totally unexpected. Apart from this gay, animated and dazzling

appearance, Cadiz can boast of nothing particular in the way of

architecture. Although its cathedral, which is a vast building of

the sixteenth century, is wanting neither nobleness nor beauty,

it presents nothing to astonish, after the prodigies of Burgos,

Toledo, Cordova, and Seville; it is something in the same style

as the cathedrals of Jaen, Granada, and Malaga; it is a specimen

of classic architecture only rendered more slim and tapering,

with that skill for which the artists of the Renaissance were

so famed. The Corinthian capitals, more elongated than those of

the consecrated Greek form, are very elegant. The pictures and

ornaments are specimens of overcharged bad taste and meaningless

richness, and that is all. I must not, however, pass over in

silence, a little crucified martyr of seven years old, in carved,

painted wood, most beautifully conceived, and carried out with

exquisite delicacy. Enthusiasm, faith, and grief are all united on

the beautiful face, in childlike proportions and the most touching

manner.

We went to see the _Plaza de Toros_, which is small, and reckoned

one of the most dangerous in Spain. In order to reach it, you

pass through gardens planted with gigantic palm-trees of various

kinds. Nothing is more noble and more royal than the palm-tree. Its

large sun of leaves at the top of its grooved column, glitters so

splendidly in the lapis-lazuli of an eastern sky! Its scaly trunk,

as slender as if it were confined within a corset, reminds you so

much of a young maiden's waist, its bearing is so majestic and so

elegant. The palm-tree and the oleander are my favourite trees: the

sight of one of them causes me to feel a degree of gaiety and joy

that is truly astonishing. It seems to me as if no one could be

unhappy under their shade.

The _Plaza de Toros_ at Cadiz has no continuous _tablas_. There are

kinds of wooden screens, at certain intervals, behind which the

_toreros_ take refuge when too closely pursued. This arrangement

struck us as presenting less security than that in the other

bull-rings.

Our attention was directed to the boxes in which the bulls are

confined during the fight: they are a kind of cages, formed of

massive beams, and shut by a door which is raised like the shuttle

of a mill or the sluice of a pond. It is the custom here to goad

the bulls with sharp-pointed darts and rub them with nitric acid,

in order to render them furious: in short, all possible means are

employed to exasperate their natural disposition.

On account of the excessive heat, the bull-fights were

discontinued; a French acrobat had arranged his trestles and

tight-rope in the middle of the arena for a performance that was

to take place the next day. It was in this circus that Lord Byron

saw the bull-fight which he describes in the first canto of "Childe

Harold's Pilgrimage;" the description is poetical, but does not say

much for his knowledge of Tauromachia.

Cadiz is surrounded by a tight girdle of ramparts, which laces in

its waist like a granite corset: a second girdle of shoals and

rocks defends it from the attacks of the waves, and yet, some few

years since, a frightful tempest rent in twain and threw down,

in several places, these formidable walls, which are more than

twenty feet thick, and immense masses of which still strew the

shore here and there. The ramparts are furnished at intervals

with stone sentry-boxes; you can walk on the glacis all round the

town, from which there is only one gate leading to the mainland,

and, as you go along, view, out at sea or on the roadstead, the

boats, feluccas, and fishing-smacks coming, going, describing

graceful curves, crossing one another, tacking about, and playing

like so many albatrosses; on the horizon, they appear nothing more

than a number of dove's feathers, carried through the air by the

capricious breeze; some of them, like the ancient Greek galleys,

have on each side of the cutwater at the prow a large eye painted

so as to resemble nature, and which appears to watch over the

vessel's progress, imparting to this part of it something that

bears a vague resemblance to the human profile. Nothing can be more

animated, more lively, and more gay than this view.

On the mole, near the gateway of the custom-house, the scene is

one of unequalled activity. A motley crowd, in which every nation

of the globe has its representative, is hurrying, at every hour

of the day, to the foot of the columns, surmounted by statues,

which decorate the quay. From the white skin and red hair of the

Englishman, down to the bronzed hide and black hair of the African,

including all the intermediate shades, such as coffee-colour,

copper, and golden-yellow, all the varieties of the human race

are assembled there. In the roads, a little further on, the

three-deckers, the frigates, and the brigs ride proudly at anchor,

hoisting every morning, to the sound of the drum, the flags of

their respective nations; the merchantmen and steamers, whose

funnels belch forth a bicoloured smoke, approach nearer to the

shore, in consequence of their drawing less water, and form the

first plan of this grand naval picture.

I had a letter of introduction to the commander of the French

brig-of-war _Le Voltigeur_, then stationed in Cadiz Roads. On my

presenting it, Monsieur Lebarbier de Linan politely invited me,

and two other gentlemen, to dine on board his vessel, the next

day about five o'clock. At four o'clock we were on the mole,

looking out for a bark and a boatman to take us from the quay to

the vessel, which it required fifteen or twenty minutes, at most,

to reach. I was very much astonished at the boatman's demanding

a douro instead of a piacetta which was the ordinary fare. In my

ignorance of nautical matters, seeing the sky perfectly clear

and the sun shining as on the first day of the creation, I very

innocently imagined that the weather was fine. Such was my

conviction. The weather was, on the contrary, atrocious, as I did

not fail to perceive at the very first broadsides we encountered.

There was a short, chopping sea, that was frightfully rough, while

the wind was sufficient to blow our heads off our shoulders. We

were tossed about as if we had been in a nutshell, and shipped

water every instant. At the expiration of a few minutes we were

enjoying a foot-bath, which threatened to become very speedily a

hip-bath. The foam of the waves entered between my neck and the

collar of my coat, and trickled down my back. The skipper and his

two companions were swearing, vociferating and snatching the sheets

and the helm out of each other's hands. One wanted this thing and

the other that, and there was one moment when they were on the

point of coming to fisticuffs. Our situation at last became so

critical that one of them began to mumble the end of a prayer to

some saint or other. Luckily we were now near the brig, that was

calmly riding at anchor, and apparently looking down with an air

of contemptuous pity on the convulsive evolutions of our little

skiff. At length we came alongside, and it took us more than ten

minutes ere we could succeed in catching hold of the man-ropes

and scramble upon deck. "This is what I call being courageous and

punctual," said the commander, with a smile, on seeing us climb up

out the gangway, dripping with water, and with our hair streaming

about us, like the beard of some marine deity. He then gave each of

us a pair of trousers, a shirt, a waistcoat--in fact, a complete

suit. "This will teach you," he continued afterwards, "to put faith

in the descriptions of poets. You thought that every tempest must

necessarily be accompanied with thunder, and waves mingling their

foam with the clouds, and rain, and lightning darting through the

murky darkness. Undeceive yourselves; in all probability, I shall

not be able to send you on shore for two or three days."

The wind was, indeed, blowing with frightful violence; the rigging

quivered like the strings of a fiddle under the bow of a frantic

player; the flag kept flapping with a kind of harsh sound, and its

bunting threatened every moment to be rent into shreds and fly

away to sea; the blocks creaked, groaned, and whistled, sometimes

emitting shrill cries, which seemed to proceed from the breast of

some human being: two or three sailors who had been mast-headed,

for some offence or other, had all the trouble in the world to

prevent themselves from being blown away.

All this did not prevent our making an excellent dinner, washed

down with the best wines, and seasoned with the most agreeable

conversation, as well as, by the bye, with the most diabolical

Indian spices, which would cause even a person afflicted with

hydrophobia to drink. The next day, as the weather was still so bad

that it was impossible to send a boat to fetch fresh provisions

from the land, our dinner was no less delicate; but it was rather

remarkable from the fact of every dish being rather ancient in

date. We had green peas of 1836, fresh butter of 1835, and cream

of 1834; all preserved in a miraculous fashion. The bad weather

lasted for two days, during which time I walked up and down the

deck, never weary of admiring the scrupulous cleanliness, which

would have done honour to a Dutch housewife; the finish of the

details, and the talent visible in the arrangement of that prodigy

of the human mind which is simply termed a vessel. The brass of the

carronades glittered like gold, and the planks were as polished as

the finest satin-wood furniture. Every morning the crew have to

dress the vessel for the day; and though the rain were to come down

like a waterspout, the deck would be washed, inundated, sponged,

and swabbed all the same.

At the expiration of two days, the wind fell, and we were conveyed

on shore in a boat manned by ten rowers.

My black coat, however, which was strongly impregnated with

sea-water, obstinately refused, when dry, to resume its former

elasticity, and was ever after spangled with brilliant crystal-like

particles, and as stiff as a salted cod.

The aspect of Cadiz from the sea is charming. When the town is seen

thus, with its buildings of dazzling white between the azure of

the sea and the azure of the sky, you might almost mistake it for

an immense crown of silver filigree work; while the dome of the

cathedral, which is painted yellow, appears to be a silver-gilt

tiara placed in the middle. The flower-pots, volutes, and turrets,

which crown the houses, give their outlines an infinite variety.

Byron has characterised the physiognomy of Cadiz in a marvellous

manner, and with a single touch:

"Fair Cadiz, rising from the dark blue sea!"

In the next stanza, the English poet does not speak in the very

highest terms of the virtue of the women of Cadiz, and he, no

doubt, had good reasons for his opinion. As far as I am concerned,

and without at present going into this delicate question, I shall

content myself with saying they are very beautiful, and that their

beauty is of a very peculiar and decided cast; their complexion

is remarkable for that whiteness of polished marble which shows

off the purity of feature to such advantage. Their nose is less

aquiline than that of the women of Seville; their forehead is

small, and their cheek-bones not at all prominent; their whole

physiognomy bears a great resemblance to that of the women of

Greece. They also struck me as being fatter and taller than other

Spanish women. Such at least was the result of the observations I

was enabled to make while walking in _El Salon_, or on the Plaza

de la Constitucion, or when I was at the theatre, where I may

parenthetically mention, I saw the _Gamin de Paris_ (_el Piluelo de

Paris_), exceedingly well played by an actress in male attire, and

some Boleros danced in a very animated and sprightly manner.

But however agreeable Cadiz may be, the idea of being cooped up

within its narrow limits, first by the ramparts and secondly by

the sea, makes you desire to leave it. It seems to me that the

only wish islanders can have, is to go upon the Continent; and

this explains the perpetual emigrations of the English, who are

everywhere save at London, where there are only Italians and Poles.

As a proof of this, the people of Cadiz are perpetually crossing

from Cadiz to Puerto de Santa Maria, and _vice versâ_. A sort of

marine omnibus, in the form of a small steamer, which leaves every

hour, sailing vessels, and boats are always lying in readiness,

and exciting the vagabond inclinations of the inhabitants. One fine

morning my companion and myself recollected that we had a letter of

introduction from a friend of ours in Granada to his father, who

was a rich merchant in Jeres. The aforesaid letter was couched in

these terms: "Open your heart, your house, and your cellar, to the

two gentlemen whom you will receive herewith." This being the case,

we clambered on board the steamer; in the cabin we saw a bill stuck

up, announcing a bull-fight, interspersed with comic interludes, to

take place the same evening, at Puerto de Santa Maria. This filled

up our day admirably, for by taking a calessin, we might go from

Puerto to Jeres, stop there a few hours, and return in time to

witness the bull-fight. After having swallowed a hasty breakfast

in the _Fonda de Vista Alegre_, which most certainly deserves its

name, we made a bargain with a driver who promised that he would

bring us back by five o'clock, in time for the _funcion_, which is

the name given in Spain to every public amusement, no matter what.

The road to Jeres runs through a hilly, rugged plain, as dry as a

piece of pumice-stone. This desert is said to be covered, in the

spring, with a rich carpet of verdure, enamelled with wild flowers;

broom, lavender and thyme, scent the air with their aromatic

emanations; but at the time of year when we beheld it, all traces

of vegetation had disappeared. The only thing we saw was, here and

there, a little plot of dry, yellow, filamentous grass all powdered

over with dust. This road, if we may believe the local chronicle,

is very dangerous, being much infested by _rateros_, that is to

say, peasants, who, without being professional brigands, avail

themselves of the opportunity of taking a purse whenever they can,

and never resist the pleasure of plundering any solitary traveller.

These _rateros_ are more to be dreaded than real robbers, who

always act with the regularity of an organized body, under the

command of a chief, and who spare the travellers, in order to

extort something more from them at some other time. Besides this,

you do not attempt to resist a brigade of twenty or twenty-five

on horseback, well equipped and armed to the teeth, whereas you

will struggle with a couple of _rateros_, and get killed, or at

least wounded. And then the _ratero_ who is about to attack you,

may be that cowherd just passing, that ploughman who touches his

hat to you, that ragged, bronzed _muchacho_ who is sleeping, or

pretending to sleep, under a narrow strip of shade, in a cleft

of the ravine, or even your _calesero_ himself who is taking you

into some snare. You do not know where to look for the danger--it

is everywhere and nowhere. From time to time the police cause the

most dangerous and best known of these wretches to be assassinated

in some tavern quarrel, got up expressly for the purpose by its

agents. This is rather a summary and barbarous mode of justice,

but it is the only one possible, on account of the absence of all

proofs and witnesses, and the difficulty of apprehending criminals

in a country where it would require an army to arrest each single

man, and where a system of counter-police is carried out with such

intelligence and passion by a people who entertain ideas with

respect to _meum_ and _tuum_, hardly more advanced than those of

the Kabyls of Africa. On this occasion, however, the promised

brigands did not make their appearance, and we reached Jeres

without the slightest accident.

Jeres, like all the small towns of Andalusia, is whitewashed from

head to foot, and has nothing remarkable in the way of buildings,

save its _bodegas_, or wine warehouses, immense structures,

with tiled roofs and long white walls devoid of windows. The

gentleman to whom the letter was addressed was absent, but it

produced its desired effect in spite of this circumstance, and

we were immediately ushered into the cellars. Never was a more

glorious spectacle presented to the gaze of a toper; we walked

through alleys of casks, of four or five stories high. We were

under the necessity of tasting every wine there, at least all the

principal kinds, and there is an infinity of principal kinds. We

ran through the whole gamut, from the sherry that was eighty-four

years old, dark and thick, having the flavour of Muscat, and the

strange colour of the green wine of Béziers, down to the dry,

pale straw-coloured sherry, with a flavour of gun-flints, and a

resemblance to Sauterne. Between these two extreme notes, there

is a whole register of intermediate wines, with tints like burnt

topazes or orange peel, and an extreme variety of taste. They

are all, however, more or less mixed with brandy, especially

those intended for England, where they would not otherwise be

found strong enough, for, to please English throats, wine must be

disguised as rum.

After so complete a study of the Œnology of Jeres, the difficulty

was to regain our carriage with a sufficiently upright and majestic

bearing, so as not to compromise France in the eyes of Spain; it

was a question of national pride; to fall or not to fall, that

was the question on the present occasion, a question which was

rather more embarrassing than that which so greatly perplexed the

Prince of Denmark. I must say, however, with a degree of very

legitimate self-approbation, that we walked to our calessin in a

very satisfactory state of perpendicularity, and represented our

well-beloved country with great glory in this struggle with the

most heady wine of Spain. Thanks to the rapid evaporation produced

by a heat of thirty-eight or forty degrees, on our return to

Puerto, we were perfectly capable of discussing the most delicate

points of psychology, and duly appreciating the various incidents

of the bull-fight. Most of the bulls were _embalados_, that is

to say, they had balls at the ends of their horns; two only were

killed, but we were highly amused by a variety of burlesque

episodes with which the proceedings were enlivened. The picadores,

who were dressed like Turks at a masquerade, with Mameluke trousers

of cambric muslin, and large suns on the back of their jackets,

reminded us most forcibly of those outrageous Moors whom Goya

represents with three or four strokes of the graver in his plates

of the _Toromaquia_. One of these worthies, while waiting for his

turn to attack the bull, blew his nose in the end of his turban

with the most admirable philosophy and coolness. A _barco de

vapor_, made of wickerwork, covered with cloth, and manned by a

crew of asses, decorated with red braces, and wearing, somehow or

other, cocked hats on their heads, was pushed into the middle of

the arena. The bull rushed at this machine, goring, overturning,

and throwing the poor donkeys into the air in the most comical

manner imaginable. I also saw a _picador_ kill a bull at one thrust

of his lance, in the handle of which some fireworks were concealed,

that exploded with such violence that the bull, the horse and its

rider fell down all together,--the first because he was dead, and

the two others from the force of the recoil. The _matador_ was an

old rascal, dressed in a seedy, worn-out jacket, and yellow silk

stockings, with rather too much open work about them, and looked

like a Jeannot of the Opéra Comique, or a street tumbler. He was

several times overthrown by the bull, the thrusts of his lance

being so feeble and uncertain that it was at last necessary to

have recourse to the _media luna_ in order to put the animal out

of his misery. The _media luna_, as its name indicates, is a kind

of crescent, fitted on a handle, and very like a pruning hook.

It is used for houghing the bull, who is then despatched without

danger. Nothing is more ignoble and hideous than this; as soon as

there is an end to the danger, you feel disgusted, and the combat

degenerates into mere butchery. The poor animal crawling about on

its haunches, like Hyacinthe at the Théâtre des Variétés, when he

plays the Female Dwarf, in that sublime piece of buffoonery, the

_Saltembanques_, is the most melancholy sight it is possible to

conceive; and you only desire one thing, and that is, that the

bull may still have sufficient strength left to rip up its stupid

tormentor with one last butt of its horns.

The special occupation of this miserable wretch, who was only a

_matador_, when not otherwise employed, was eating. He would

absorb six or eight dozen hard eggs, a whole sheep or calf, and

so on. From his thin appearance, I should say that he did not get

work very often. There were a great number of people present;

the _majos'_ dresses were rich and numerous; the women, whose

characteristics were entirely different from those of the women of

Cadiz, wore on their heads, instead of a mantilla, long scarlet

shawls, which were admirably adapted to their fine olive faces,

almost as dark as those of mulattoes, in which the pearly eyes and

the ivory-like teeth stand out with singular brilliancy. These pure

lines, and this tawny, golden tint, are marvellously suited for

painting; and it is greatly to be regretted that Léopold Robert,

that Raphael of peasants, died so young and never travelled through

Spain.

Wandering at hazard through the streets, we came out upon the

market-place. Night had set in. The shops and stalls were lighted

up by lanterns, or lamps suspended from the roof, and formed

a charming scene, all spangled and glistening with spots of

brilliancy. Watermelons, with their green rind and rosy pulp,

cactus figs, some in their prickly shells and others ready skinned,

sacks of _garbanzos_, monster onions, yellow, amber-coloured

grapes, that would put to the blush those brought from the Land of

Promise, alder wreaths, spices, and other violent products, were

heaped up in picturesque confusion. In the small free passages left

between the different stalls, country people passed and re-passed,

driving their asses before them, as well as women dragging their

brats. I noticed one especially. She was remarkably beautiful,

with her jet black eyes glistening in her bistre, oval-shaped

face, and her hair, that shone like satin or the raven's wing,

plastered down on her temples. She walked along with a serious but

happy expression, no stockings on her legs, and her charming foot

thrust into a satin shoe. This coquetting with the feet is general

throughout Andalusia.

The courtyard of our inn, laid out as a _patio_, was ornamented

by a fountain surrounded by shrubs, and inhabited by a whole

population of chameleons. Just fancy a pot-bellied sort of

lizard, six or seven inches long, or, perhaps, less, with a

disproportionately wide mouth, out of which it darts a viscous,

whitish tongue, as long as its body, and eyes, like those of a

toad, when you chance to tread upon it; these eyes start out of the

creature's head; they are enveloped in a membrane, and perfectly

independent of each other in their movements, one looking up

towards the sky while the other is turned upon the ground. These

squinting lizards, who, according to Spaniards, live on air alone,

but whom I very distinctly saw eating flies, have the power of

changing colour, according to the place they happen to be in.

They do not suddenly become scarlet, blue, or green, but, at

the expiration of an hour or two, they imbibe the tints of the

nearest objects. On a tree, they are a fine green; on anything

blue, a slatish grey; and on scarlet, a reddish brown. If they are

kept in the shade, they lose their colour, and assume a sort of

neutral yellowish white hue. One or two chameleons would produce a

fine effect in the laboratory of an alchemist, or a second Doctor

Faustus. In Andalusia, it is the custom to hang a piece of rope

of a certain length to the ceiling, and place the end between the

fore-paws of a chameleon. The animal begins crawling up, until he

reaches the roof, on which his paws have no purchase. He then comes

down again to the end of the rope, and, rolling his eyes about,

measures the distance between him and the ground. After having

made his calculations he crawls up the rope again with the most

admirable seriousness and gravity, and continues this manœuvre

for an indefinite period. When there are two chameleons on the

same rope, the sight becomes most transcendentally ridiculous.

Spleen itself would die of laughter on seeing the horrible looks

of the ugly brutes when they meet. I was exceedingly anxious to

provide myself with the means of indulging in this amusement when

I returned to France, and accordingly bought a couple of these

amiable animals, which I put in a cage. But they caught cold during

the passage, and died of disease of the lungs, on our arrival

at Porte Vendres. They had dwindled completely away, and their

poor little anatomical system peeped out from their shrunken and

wrinkled skin.

Some few days later, the announcement of a bull-fight--the last,

alas! that I was destined to witness--caused me to return to Jeres.

The circus at Jeres is very handsome and very capacious, and is

not without a certain monumental appearance. It is built of brick,

faced at the sides with stone, which produces a pleasing effect.

There was an immense, motley, variegated, ever-moving crowd, and

an endless flourishing of fans and handkerchiefs. In the middle

of the arena was a stake with a kind of little platform upon the

top. On this platform was crouched a monkey, dressed up as a

troubadour, making faces and licking his chaps. He was fastened

by a tolerably long chain, which allowed him to describe a pretty

large circle, of which the stake formed the centre. When the bull

entered, the first object that attracted his attention was the

monkey upon his perch. A most amusing comedy followed. The furious

animal commenced butting violently against the stake, and shook

our friend the monkey in a terrible fashion. The latter was in an

awful state of alarm, which he expressed by the most irresistibly

comic grimaces. Sometimes, being unable to hold on to his plank,

although he grasped it with his four paws, he actually fell upon

the bull's back, where he stuck with all the energy of despair.

The hilarity of the public knew no bounds, and fifteen thousand

smiles lighted up all the swarthy faces around. But the comedy was

succeeded by a tragedy. A poor negro helper, who was carrying a

basket filled with fine earth to sprinkle over the pools of blood,

was attacked by the bull, whom he imagined was occupied somewhere

else, and thrown up twice into the air. He lay stretched out upon

the ground, motionless and lifeless. The _chulos_ came and waved

their cloaks before the bull, and drew him off to another part of

the arena, in order that the negro's body might be carried away.

He passed close to me; two _mozos_ were carrying him by the head

and legs. I remarked a singular fact; from black he had become dark

blue, which is apparently the tint that negroes assume when they

turn pale. This circumstance did not interrupt the proceedings.

_Nada; es un mozo_; "It is nothing, he is only a black;" such

was the funeral oration of the poor African. But if the human

spectators were indifferent to his death, the case was different

with the poor monkey, who threw about his arms, uttered piercing

moans, and exerted all his strength to break his chain. Did he

look upon the negro as an animal of his own race, a brother monkey

who had got on in the world, and who was the only friend worthy of

understanding him? However this may be, it is very certain that I

never beheld an instance of deeper grief, than that of this monkey

bewailing this negro; and the circumstance is the more remarkable,

as he had seen the _picadores_ unhorsed and their lives in danger

without manifesting the least uneasiness or sympathy. At the same

moment, an enormous owl alighted in the middle of the arena. He

had come, no doubt, in his character of a bird of night, to carry

off this black soul to the ebony paradise of Africans. Out of the

eight bulls in this fight, four only were to be killed. The others,

after having received half-a-dozen thrusts with the lance, and

three or four pairs of _banderillas_, were conducted back again

into the _toril_ by large oxen with bells on their necks. The last

one, a _novillo_, was abandoned to the spectators, who tumultuously

invaded the arena, and despatched him with their knives, for so

great is the passion of the Andalusians for bull-fights, that they

are not contented with being mere spectators; they require to take

a part in the fight, without which they would retire unsatisfied.

The steamer the _Ocean_, was lying in the harbour, ready to start;

the bad weather, that superb bad weather which I have already

mentioned, had detained her for some days; we went on board her,

with a lively feeling of satisfaction, for in consequence of the

events in Valencia, and the troubles which ensued, Cadiz was,

after a fashion, in a state of siege. The papers were no longer

filled with anything, save pieces of poetry or _feuilletons_

translated from the French, and on the corners of all the streets

were posted rather uncomfortable little _bandos_, prohibiting all

groups of more than three persons, under pain of death. Besides

these reasons for wishing to leave as soon as possible, we had been

travelling forwards with our backs turned on France for a long

time; it was the first time for many months that we had made a

step towards our native land, and, however free a man may be from

national prejudices, he cannot help feeling a slight longing to

behold his country once more, when he is so far away. In Spain, the

least disrespectful allusion to France made me furious, and I felt

inclined to sing of laurels, victory, glory, and warriors, like a

supernumerary of the _Cirque-Olympique_.

Every one was on deck, running about in all directions, and making

all sorts of signs of adieu, to the boats that were shoving off

to return to shore. Hardly had we gone a league when I heard on

all sides such exclamations as, "_Me mareo!_ I feel ill! some

lemons; some rum; some vinegar; some smelling salts." The deck

offered a most melancholy spectacle. The women, who but a short

time previously had looked so lovely, were as green as bodies

that had been immersed in the water for a week. They lay about on

mattresses, boxes, and counterpanes, with a total forgetfulness of

grace or modesty. A poor parrot, which was taken ill in its cage,

and could not at all comprehend the agony it was suffering, poured

forth its vocabulary with the most mournful and comic volubility.

I was lucky enough not to be ill. The two days I had passed on

board the _Voltigeur_ had no doubt hardened me. My companion, who

was less fortunate than myself, plunged into the interior of the

vessel, and did not reappear until we reached Gibraltar. How is it

that modern science, which displays so much solicitude for rabbits

who have got a cold in the head, and finds delight in dying duck's

bones red, has not yet endeavoured to discover some remedy against

this feeling of horrible uneasiness, which causes more suffering

than actual acute pain?

The sea was still rather rough, although the weather was

magnificent; the air was so transparent that we could distinguish

with tolerable distinctness the coast of Africa, Cape Spartel, and

the bay at the bottom of which Tangiers is situated. That band of

mountains resembling clouds, from which they differed only by their

immovability, was then Africa, the land of prodigies, of which the

Romans used to say, _quid novi fert Africa?_ the oldest continent

in the world, the cradle of Eastern civilization, the centre of

Islamism, the black world, where the shade which is absent from

the sky is only found on the faces of the people, the mysterious

laboratory of Nature, who, in her endeavours to bring forth man,

first changes the monkey into a negro! What a refined and modern

instance of the punishment of Tantalus was it merely to see Africa,

and be obliged to pass on.

Opposite Tarifa, a little town whose chalky walls rise on the

summit of a precipitous hill, behind a small island of the same

name, Europe and Africa approach nearer, and seem desirous to kiss

each other in token of alliance. The straits are so narrow that you

see both continents at the same time. It is impossible, when you

are here, not to believe that the Mediterranean was, at no very

remote epoch, an isolated sea, an inland lake, like the Caspian Sea

and the Dead Sea. The spectacle before us was one of marvellous

magnificence. To the left was Europe, and to the right Africa,

with their rocky coasts, clothed by distance in light lilac and

shot-coloured tints, like those of a double-woofed cloth; before us

was the boundless horizon, continually increasing; above us, the

turquoise-coloured sky; and below, a sea of sapphire so limpid that

we could distinguish the whole hull of our vessel, as well as the

keels of the smaller craft which passed near us, and which appeared

rather to be flying in the air, than floating in the water. All

around us was one mass of light, the only sombre tint perceptible

for twenty leagues in every direction, being the long wreaths

of thick smoke which we left behind us. The steamer is truly a

northern invention; its fires, which are always fiercely glowing,

its boiler in a state of constant ebullition, its chimney which

will eventually blacken the sky with its soot, are in admirable

keeping with the fogs and mists of the north. Amidst the splendid

scenery of the south, however, it is a blot. All nature was gay;

large sea-birds grazed the surface of the waves with the tips

of their pinions; tunny-fish, doradoes, and fish of every other

description, all glittering, shining, and sparkling, leaped up and

performed a thousand quaint antics as they sported on the top of

the water; sail succeeded sail every moment, as white and swelling

as the bosom of a Nereid would be, could we see her rise above the

billows. The coasts were tinged with all kinds of fantastic hues;

their folds, precipices, and gaps produced the most marvellous and

unexpected effects in the sunshine, and formed a panorama that

was incessantly changing. About four o'clock we were in sight of

Gibraltar, waiting for the health officers to be kind enough to

come and take our papers with a pair of tongs, and see that we

had not brought in our pockets some yellow fever, blue cholera, or

black plague.

The aspect of Gibraltar completely confuses all your ideas:

you no longer know where you are, nor what you see. Just fancy

an immense rock, or, rather, a mountain, fifteen hundred feet

high, rising suddenly and bluffly from the midst of the waves,

and based on a tract of ground so flat and level that you can

scarcely perceive it. Nothing prepares you for it, nothing

accounts for its being there; it is connected with no chain

of mountains; but it is a monstrous monolith thrown down from

heaven, the corner of some planet broken off during a battle of

the stars--a fragment of some broken world. Who placed it in this

position? God and Eternity alone know. What adds still more to

the singular effect of this inexplicable rock is its form. It

looks like an enormous, prodigious, and gigantic Sphinx, such

as Titans might have sculptured, and compared to which, the

flat-nosed monsters of Carnac and Giseh are but what a mouse is

in comparison with an elephant. The outspread paws form what is

called Europa Point; the head, which is somewhat truncated, is

turned towards Africa, which it seems to look at with profound and

dreamy attention. What thoughts can this mountain be revolving

in its mind, in this sly meditative attitude? What enigma is it

about to propose, or endeavouring to solve? The shoulders, loins,

and hind-quarters stretch towards Spain in nonchalant folds and

beautifully undulating lines, like those of a lion in a state of

repose. The town is situated at the bottom of the rock, and is

almost imperceptible, being a wretched detail lost in the general

mass. The three-deckers at anchor in the bay look like German

toys--little miniature models of ships, such as are sold in seaport

towns--and the smaller craft seem to be flies drowning in milk;

even the fortifications are not apparent. The mountain, however, is

hollowed out, mined and excavated in every direction; its belly is

full of cannons, howitzers, and mortars; it is absolutely crammed

with warlike stores. It is an example of the luxury and coquetry

of the Impregnables. But all this offers nothing to the eye, save

a few almost imperceptible lines, which are confounded with the

wrinkles on the face of the rock, and a few holes through which

pieces of artillery furtively thrust their brazen mouths. In the

Middle Ages, Gibraltar would have bristled with donjons, towers,

turrets, and battlements; instead of taking up its position below,

the fortress would have scaled the mountain, and perched itself,

like an eagle's nest, upon the highest peak. The present batteries

sweep the sea, which is so narrow in this part, and render it

almost impossible for a vessel to force a passage. Gibraltar was

called by the Arabs, Giblaltah,--that is to say, the _Mountain of

the Entrance_; and never was a name more appropriate. Its ancient

name was Calpe. Abyla, now Ape's Hill, is on the other side of the

straits in Africa, close to Ceuta, a Spanish possession, the Brest

and Toulon of the Peninsula; it is there that the Spaniards send

their most hardened galley-slaves. We could distinctly make out its

rocky precipices, and its crest enveloped in clouds, despite the

serenity of the surrounding sky.

Like Cadiz, Gibraltar, situated on a peninsula at the entrance of

a gulf, is only connected with the continent by a narrow strip of

land called the _Neutral Ground_, where the custom-house lines

are established. The first Spanish possession on this side is San

Roque. Algeciras, whose white houses glisten in the universal

azure, like the silvery stomach of a fish floating on the surface

of the water, is exactly opposite Gibraltar; in the midst of this

splendid blue, Algeciras was having its little revolution. We heard

indistinctly the popping report of fire-arms, like the noise made

by grains of salt when thrown into the fire. The _ayuntamiento_

even took refuge on board the steamer, and began smoking cigars in

the most tranquil manner in the world.

The officers of health not having found that we brought any

infectious disease with us, we were surrounded by small boats,

and, in another quarter-of-an-hour, we were on shore. The effect

produced by the appearance of the town is the strangest it is

possible to conceive. By taking one step, you have your five

hundred leagues, which is rather more than even Tom Thumb did in

his famous boots. Just now you were in Andalusia, at the next

moment you are in England. From the Moorish towns of Granada and

Murcia, you suddenly alight at Ramsgate: you see brick-houses

with their areas, their low doors, and their English windows,

exactly like those at Twickenham or Richmond. If you go a little

further, you will perceive cottages with their painted railings

and gates. The public walks are planted with ash and birch trees,

with elms and the green vegetation of the north, so different

from those small plates of varnished metal which pass for foliage

in southern climates. Englishmen have so strong an individuality

that they are everywhere the same, and I really cannot understand

why they travel, for they carry all their customs with them, and

bear their houses on their backs exactly like snails. Wherever an

Englishman may be, he lives precisely as he would do in London; he

must have his tea, his rumpsteaks, his rhubarb pies, his porter,

and his sherry, if he is well; and his calomel, if he is ill. By

means of the innumerable packages he lugs about with him, the

Englishman always enjoys his _home_ and his _comfort_, which

are necessary to his existence. How many objects do our insular

neighbours require in order to live--how much trouble do they give

themselves to feel at their ease?--and how much do I prefer to all

this complicated array, Spanish abstemiousness and privation! It

was a very long time since I had seen a female with one of those

horrible coal-scuttle affairs, one of those odious pasteboard

cases covered with a slip of stuff, and called bonnets, in which

the fair sex bury their faces, in so-styled civilized countries.

I cannot express the disagreeable sensation I experienced at the

sight of the first Englishwoman I met, with a bonnet and a green

veil on her head; I seemed, all at once, to be placed face to face

with the spectre of civilization, that mortal enemy of mine, and

this apparition struck me as a sort of warning that my dream of

vagabond liberty was at an end, and that I should soon be obliged

once more to re-enter the mode of life of the nineteenth century,

never to leave it again. Before this Englishwoman, I felt quite

ashamed of having neither white kid gloves, eye-glass, nor patent

leather shoes, and I cast an embarrassed glance on the extravagant

embroidery of my sky-blue mantle. For the first time during six

months, I felt that I was not presentable, and that I did not look

like a gentleman.

At Gibraltar, which has become heretic since the English occupy

it, there are a great number of Jews, who have either been driven

away, or looked on with an evil eye by the Spanish, who, if they

have no more religion, still possess superstition. They walk about

the streets, displaying their hooked noses, thin lips, and yellow,

polished foreheads surmounted by rabbinical caps, placed on the

back of the head, and their threadbare, narrow, sombre-coloured

robes. The Jewesses, who, by a singular privilege, are as beautiful

as their husbands are hideous, wear picturesque black cloaks,

bordered with scarlet and having hoods. Their appearance caused

us to think vaguely of the Bible, of Rachel at the well, and the

primitive scenes of the time of the patriarchs, for, like the women

of all oriental races, they still preserve in their long black

eyes and the golden tints of their complexions, the mysterious

reflexion of a world that has now disappeared. There are, also, at

Gibraltar, a great many natives of Morocco, as well as Arabs from

Tangiers and the places along the coast: they have little shops,

where they sell perfumery, silk sashes, slippers, fly-flappers,

ornamented leathern cushions, and other knick-knacks of barbarous

industry. As we wished to purchase a few trifles and curiosities,

we were conducted to one of the principal dealers, who lived in

the upper part of the town. We had to pass through a number of

streets like staircases, which were less English in their character

than the streets in the lower part of the town, and whence, at

certain turnings, our eye glanced over the gulf of Algeciras, which

was magnificently illuminated by the last rays of daylight. On

entering the Morocco merchant's house, we were enveloped in a cloud

of oriental perfumes: the sweet, penetrating odour of rose-water

greeted our olfactory organs and made us think of the mysteries of

the harem and the marvels of the _Thousand-and-One Nights_. The

merchant's sons, two fine young men about twenty years of age,

were seated on benches near the door, enjoying the coolness of the

evening. They possessed that purity of features, that limpidity of

look, that careless nobleness, and that air of amorous and pensive

melancholy which belong to pure races. Their father had the grave,

majestic look of a Magian king. We considered ourselves very ugly

and mean-looking by the side of this solemn personage; and it was

in the most humble tone, with hat in hand, that we asked him if

he would deign to sell us a few pairs of yellow morocco slippers.

He nodded affirmatively, and, on our observing that the price was

rather high, he replied in Spanish, with great grandeur, "I never

overcharge; such practices are only good for Christians." Thus our

want of loyalty in commercial transactions renders us an object of

contempt in the eyes of barbarous nations, who cannot understand

that a man will perjure himself, in order to make a farthing or two

more.

Having made our purchases, we went down again to the lower part of

the rock, and took a stroll along a fine promenade planted with

trees of northern climes, intermixed with flowers, sentinels, and

guns, and where you meet with broughams and horsemen just as you do

in Hyde Park. All that is wanting there is the statue of Achilles

Wellington. This promenade is outside the town, at Europa Point,

in the direction of the mountain inhabited by the monkeys. This

is the only spot in Europe where these amiable quadrumanes live

and multiply in a savage state. According as the wind changes,

they pass from one side of the rock to the other, and thus serve

as a barometer: every one is forbidden to kill them under very

heavy penalties. As for myself, I saw none; but the temperature

of the place is hot enough to allow the most chilly macacuses and

cercopithecuses to fully develop themselves, without fires or

air-stoves. Abyla, if we can believe its modern name, must delight,

on the coast of Africa, in a similar population.

The next day we left this park of artillery and land of smuggling,

to be wafted towards Malaga, with which place we were already

acquainted, but which we had great pleasure in again beholding,

with its white, slender lighthouse, and its harbour full of

perpetual movement. Viewed from the sea, the cathedral looks larger

than the town, and the ruins of the ancient Arab fortifications

impart to the sloping rocks a most romantic effect. We returned to

our inn of the Three Kings, and the pretty Dolores uttered a cry of

joy on recognising us.

The next day we again embarked with a cargo of raisins; and, as we

had lost some time, the captain resolved to pass by Ameria, and to

go direct to Cartagena.

We kept close enough to the coast of Spain never to lose sight of

it; but the coast of Africa had, in consequence of the widening of

the Mediterranean, long since disappeared from the horizon. On one

side, therefore, our view consisted of long rows of bluish cliffs,

with curiously-formed steeps, full of perpendicular cracks, and

marked, here and there, with white spots, announcing the presence

of a little village, a watch-tower, or a custom-house officer's

hut; and, on the other, of the boundless sea, now ruffled and

goffered by the breeze or tide, now of a dull blue and dead colour,

or as transparent as crystal, and then brilliant and undulating,

like the basquina of a dancing-girl, while at other times it was

opaque, oily, and as grey as mercury or melted lead; forming

altogether a variety of tones, and assuming such various aspects as

would throw any poet or painter into utter despair. A procession

of red, white, and other light-coloured sails, of ships of every

size and nation, enlivened the scene, and took away that melancholy

which ever attends infinite solitude. A sea in which no sail is

visible, is the most sad and dispiriting spectacle that any one can

well behold. Fancy not one thought on so large an extent of space,

not one soul to comprehend all the sublimity contained therein! And

yet, only place one white and almost imperceptible speck on this

fathomless and unbounded main, and its immensity will be peopled;

it will then contain an interest, a drama.

Cartagena, which is called _Cartagena de Levante_, to distinguish

it from Cartagena in America, is situated at the end of a bay, a

sort of funnel of rocks, where ships find complete shelter from

every wind. Its form has nothing picturesque about it; the deepest

impressions produced on us there were made by two windmills,

decorated with black drawings on a light sky-blue ground.

The aspect of Cartagena differs entirely from that of Malaga.

Buried in its crown of bare and sterile rocks, which are as dry as

the Egyptian hills of the ancient Pharaohs, Cartagena is as dull

and grim as Malaga is gay, cheerful, and animated. You no longer

see whitewashed walls, for they are all dark-coloured, and the

windows are grated with a complication of iron-work; while the

houses, still more ill-looking, possess that prison-like appearance

which distinguishes all Castilian mansions. Yet, as we do not

wish to fall into the error of that traveller who wrote in his

note-book, "All the women at Calais are cross, red-haired, and

hump-backed," because the landlady of his inn united in herself

these three defects, we must own that we perceived at these barred

windows none but charming features and angelic faces: it is perhaps

on this account that they are grated so carefully. While waiting

for dinner, we went to visit the naval arsenal, an establishment

of the grandest proportions, but at present in a state of grievous

dilapidation; its vast basins, its stocks and idle dockyards, in

which another armada might be built, are used for nothing now.

Two or three half-constructed hulls, looking like the stranded

skeletons of so many cachelots, are rotting unheeded in a corner;

thousands of crickets have taken possession of those large deserted

vessels, and you cannot make a step without crushing some of them;

the noise they make, too, with their little rattles, is so great,

that you can hardly hear yourself speak. In spite of the love I

profess to have for crickets, love which I have expressed both in

prose and verse, I must frankly own that here there were somewhat

too many for me.

From Cartagena, we went as far as the town of Alicant, of which

I had mentally formed, from a verse in the _Orientale_ of Victor

Hugo, a much too denticulated sketch:

"Alicante aux clochers mêle les minarets."

Now, Alicant would have much difficulty, at present at least, in

bringing about this mixture, which I acknowledge as very desirable

and picturesque, seeing, in the first place, that it has no

minarets, and that the only steeple it possesses is a very low

and far from important tower. What characterizes Alicant is an

enormous rock, which rises in the middle of the town; and this

rock, of a magnificent form and colour, is crowned with a fortress,

and flanked with a watch-tower that was suspended over the abyss

in the most audacious manner. The town-hall, or, to keep up the

local colour, the palace of the _Constitucion_, is a delightful

edifice, constructed in the best possible taste. The _Alameda_,

paved throughout with stone, is shaded by two or three rows of

trees, pretty well supplied with leaves for Spanish trees, of which

the roots do not revel in a well. The houses rise high, and assume

European forms. I saw two women wearing yellow brimstone-coloured

bonnets--a menacing symptom. This is all I know of Alicant, where

the boat only remained long enough to take in some freight and

coal, and we profited by this stoppage to go and breakfast on

shore. As may be imagined, we did not neglect the opportunity of

making some conscientious experiments on the wine, which in spite

of its incontestable authenticity, I did not find so good as I

thought I should: this perhaps arose from the taste of pepper which

had been imparted to it by the _bota_ in which it was contained.

Our next stage was to take us to Valencia, _Valencia del Cid_, as

the Spaniards say.

From Alicant to Valencia, the cliffs along the shore continue to

rise in curious forms, and to assume unexpected appearances: our

attention was called to the summit of a mountain, where there was

a square chasm, which seemed as if it had been cut out by the hand

of man. Towards morning, on the following day, we cast anchor

before the Grao; this is the name given to the harbour and suburb

of Valencia, which is at half a league's distance from the sea. The

waves ran high, and when we arrived at the landing-place, we were

pretty well sprinkled with sea water. There we took a tartan to go

to the town. The word _tartan_ is generally taken in a maritime

sense; but the tartan of Valencia is a case covered with oil-cloth,

and placed on two wheels, without any springs whatever. This

vehicle, compared to the _galeras_, seemed effeminately luxurious

to us; and no fashionably-made carriage ever appeared more soft. We

were quite surprised and embarrassed at being so comfortable. Large

trees bordered our route, affording us a pleasure to which we had

not been accustomed for some time.

[Illustration: THE GATE OF VALENCIA.]

With regard to picturesque appearance, Valencia corresponds pretty

well with the notion formed of it from romances and chronicles.

It is a large, flat, scattered town, laid out in a confused

manner, and possesses none of those advantages that disorder in

construction imparts to old towns built on hilly sites. Valencia

is situated in a plain named the Huerta, in the midst of gardens

and cultivated lands, where constant irrigation keeps everything

cool and fresh--a very rare circumstance in Spain. The climate is

so mild, that palm-trees and orange-trees grow in the open air by

the side of products of the north. Valencia, therefore, carries

on a great trade in oranges, which are measured by being passed

through a ring, like cannon-balls when calibre is required to

be known. Those which cannot pass constitute the choicest. The

Guadalaviar, over which are five handsome stone bridges, and which

is bordered by a superb promenade, runs by the side of the city,

nearly beneath the ramparts. The frequent use made of its waters

for irrigation render these five bridges mere objects of ornament

for three-fourths of the year. The gate of the Cid, through which

you pass to go to the promenade of the Guadalaviar, is flanked with

large embattled towers, which produce a pretty good effect.

The streets of Valencia are narrow, and bordered with high houses

of a sullen aspect, some of which still bear mutilated coats of

arms; you can also perceive fragments of worn-out sculptures,

chimeras without claws, women without noses, and knights without

arms. A casement in the style of the Renaissance, but which is lost

and imbedded in a frightful wall of recent workmanship, causes

from time to time an artist to raise his eyes, and utter a sigh of

regret; you must, however, look for such rare vestiges in obscure

corners, and at the bottom of back-courts, for Valencia itself has

quite a modern aspect. The cathedral, built in a style of hybrid

architecture, possesses nothing, in spite of an apsis with a

gallery furnished with Roman semicircular arches, which can attract

the attention of the traveller after the wonders of Burgos, Toledo,

and Seville. A few finely-sculptured altar-screens, a painting by

Sebastian del Piombo, and another by Espagnoletto, executed in

his softest style, when he was trying to imitate Correggio, are

the only things worthy of remark. The other churches, though both

numerous and rich, are built and decorated in that strange style

of bad ornamentation of which we have already given a description

several times. On beholding all these extravagances, you can

but regret so much talent should have been thrown away on such

subjects. _La Longa de Seda_ (purse of silk) on the market-place,

is a delightful Gothic monument; the grand hall, the vaulted roof

of which rests on rows of pillars with wreathed nervures of extreme

lightness, presents an appearance of elegance and sprightliness

rarely met with in Gothic architecture, which is in general more

fitted to express melancholy than happiness. It is in the Longa

that the fêtes and masked balls of the carnival take place. Before

we have done speaking of the monumental buildings, let us say a

few words about the ancient Convent of La Merced, where a great

number of pictures have been collected, some mediocre, and the

others, with very few exceptions, extremely bad. What delighted me

more than anything else at La Merced, was a yard surrounded by a

cloister, and planted with palm-trees, perfectly oriental by their

size and beauty, and which shot up like spires through the limpid

air.

The real attraction of Valencia, for a traveller, is its

population; or, to speak more correctly, that of the Huerta

which surrounds it. The Valencian peasants wear a costume of

characteristic strangeness of appearance, which cannot have varied

much since the invasion of the Arabs, and which differs very little

from the present costume of the Moors of Africa. This costume

consists of a shirt, of flowing drawers of coarse linen, kept up

by a red sash, and of a green or blue velvet waistcoat, furnished

with buttons made of small pieces of silver money; the legs are

clothed in a sort of _knémides_ or leggings of white wool, with a

blue border, which leave the knee and instep exposed to view. For

shoes, they wear _alpargatas_, sandals of plaited cords, the soles

of which are nearly an inch thick, and which are tied by ribbons

like the buskins of the Greeks. Their heads are generally shaved

in the oriental fashion, and they are nearly always enveloped

in a handkerchief of a gaudy colour; and on this handkerchief

is placed a little low-shaped hat, with a turned-up brim, and

ornamented with velvet, silk tassels, spangles, and tinsel. A piece

of motley-coloured stuff, called a _capa de muestra_, ornamented

with rosettes of yellow ribbon, and which is thrown across the

shoulder, completes this costume, full of nobleness and character.

The Valencian keeps his money, his bread, his water-melon, and

his _navaja_, in the corners of his café, which he arranges in a

thousand different manners; it forms for him, at the same time,

a wallet and a cloak. At present, we are only speaking, it must

be remembered, of the full dress costume, of the holiday suit.

On ordinary days, the Valencian keeps on hardly anything but his

shirt and drawers; and then, with his enormous black whiskers, his

sunburnt face, his fierce look, and his bronze-coloured arms and

legs, he has quite the appearance of a Bedouin, especially if he

undoes his handkerchief and exposes to view his bare head, looking

as smooth and blue as a well-bearded chin just shaved. In spite

of Spanish pretensions to catholicism, I shall always find much

difficulty to bring myself to think that such stalwart fellows are

not Mussulmans. It is probably, owing to this ferocious air, that

the Valencians have obtained the name of bad people (_male gente_),

by which they are designated in the other provinces of Spain. I

was told a hundred times in the Huerta of Valencia, that when any

one wanted to get rid of another person, it was not difficult to

find a peasant who, for five or six douros, would undertake the

business. This appears to me barefaced calumny. In the country

I have often met with individuals delighting in a frightful

expression of countenance, but they always saluted me with the

greatest politeness. One evening, we lost our way, and we were near

being compelled to sleep in the open air, as the gates of the city

were closed when we arrived there; but nothing happened to us,

although it had been dark for some time, and though Valencia and

its environs were in a state of revolution.

By a singular contrast, the wives of these European Zabyles are

pale and fair, _bionde e grassote_, as the women of Venice; they

have a sweet, melancholy smile on their lips, and a tender look

in their blue eyes; it would be impossible to conceive a stronger

contrast. These dark demons of the paradise of the Huerta have fair

angels for their wives, whose beautiful hair is kept in its place

by a high-backed comb, or by long pins ornamented at the end by

large silver or glass beads. Formerly, the Valencian women used to

wear a lovely national costume, which resembled that of the women

of Albania; but they have, unfortunately, cast it aside to make

room for a frightful Anglo-French style of attire, for dresses

with shoulder-of-mutton sleeves, and other abominations. It is

worthy of remark that the women are always the first to quit the

national costume; and almost the only persons in Spain who have

preserved the ancient manner of dressing are the men of the lower

classes. This want of discrimination with respect to costume in

an essentially coquettish sex surprises us; but our astonishment

ceases, when we reflect that women only possess the sentiment of

fashion and not that of beauty. A woman will always think any

wretched piece of rag lovely, if it is the height of fashion to

wear this piece of rag.

We had now been at Valencia some nine or ten days, waiting for

another steamer, for the weather had disorganized the regular

departure of the boats, and had greatly interfered with all

correspondence. Our curiosity was satisfied; and all we now

thought of was returning to Paris, to again behold our parents,

our friends, the dear boulevards, and the dear gutters; I even

think--may Heaven forgive me!--that I cherished the secret desire

of seeing a vaudeville; in a word, civilized life, which had

been forgotten for the last six months, called imperiously for

our return. We longed to read the daily papers, to sleep in our

own beds, and had, besides, a thousand other Bœotian fancies. At

length, a packet arrived from Gibraltar, and took us to Porte

Vendres, after allowing us to visit Barcelona, where it stopped for

a few hours. The aspect of Barcelona resembles that of Marseilles,

and there is hardly any trace of the Spanish type about it; the

edifices are large and regular, and, were it not for the immense

blue velvet trousers and the ample red caps of the Catalonians, you

would fancy yourself in a town of France. In spite of its Rambla,

planted with trees, and its handsome straight streets, Barcelona

appears somewhat cramped and stiff, like all towns which are too

tightly laced in a doublet of fortifications.

The cathedral is very handsome, especially the interior, which is

sombre, mysterious, and almost inspires you with fear.

The organ is of Gothic structure, and shuts with two large panels

covered with paintings; a Saracen's head is making a frightful

grimace beneath the pendentive which supports the organ. Beautiful

lustres of the fifteenth century, full of open-worked figures like

reliquaries, hang from the nervures of the roof. On leaving the

church, you enter a fine cloister of the same epoch; its silence

incites to reverie, and its half-ruined arcades are characterized

by the greyish tints of the old buildings of the north. The

_calle_ of _La Plateria_ (the goldsmith's art) dazzles the eyes

by its shop-fronts and glass-cases, which sparkle with jewellery,

especially with enormous ear-rings as large as small bunches

of grapes, of a heavy and massive richness; and, though rather

barbarously made, productive of a very majestic effect: they are

principally bought by peasant-women in easy circumstances.

The next day we entered, at ten o'clock in the morning, the little

bay at the end of which Porte Vendres rises. We were in France.

And--must I own it?--on setting foot on the soil of my country, I

felt my eyes fill with tears, not of joy, however, but of regret.

The Vermilion Towers, the silvery tops of the Sierra Neveda, the

rose-bays of the Generalife, the long, soft, limpid looks, the

pink-blossom lips, the little feet and the little hands of the

daughters of Spain, all came back to my mind so vividly, that it

appeared to me that France, where, however, I was about to see my

mother again, was a land of exile for me. My dream was over.

INDEX.

Abencerrages, Hall of the, Alhambra, 189, 190

Accident to the Correo Real, near Burgos, 47

Aceite, Puerta del, at Seville, 264

Adventure with robbers, 209

Aguadores and Aguadoras of Madrid, 79

Alameda, the, of Granada, 171, 172

Alcala de los Panaderos, 257

Alcantara, bridge of, at Toledo, 119

Alcazar, the, at Toledo, 119;

at Seville, 270, 271

Algives, Plaza de los, 179

Alhama, 212, 213

Alhambra, the, 177, 178;

the Zacatin and Plaza Nueva, 177;

the Gate of Justice, 178;

the Plaza de los Algives, 179;

the Patin de las Arrayanes of Alberca, or Mezouar, 180;

Hall of Ambassadors, 181-183;

the Tocador, 183;

Garden of Lindaraja, and Bath-room of the Sultana, 185, 186;

Hall of the Two Sisters, 186;

of Abencerrages, 186;

the Taza de los Leones, 187, 188

Alicant, 296, 297

Aloe-tree, 159

Altar, high, in the cathedral of Toledo, 124

Amistad, Fonda de la, at Madrid, 58

Andalusia, entrance to, by the Puerta de los Perros, 157

Anecdote of Spanish Robbers, 110-112;

of the Jews at Toledo, 134, 135;

of a Calesero, 200

Angoulême, 4;

frescoes at, 4

Aranjuez, royal residence of, 148

Architecture, usual style of, at Madrid, 85-87

Armeria, the, at Madrid, 93, 94;

in the Alhambra, 179

Arms, manufactory of, at Toledo, 141, 142

Aspect of Granada, 167

Astigarraga, inn at, 17;

supper at, 18, 19

Authors, Spanish dramatic, 235

Baile Nacional, at Vittoria, 23, 24;

at Malaga, 230

Banderillas, 68;

de fuego, 71

Banderilleros, the, 61-64

Baño de la Cava at Toledo, 137

Barcelona, the cathedral at, 301

Bath of Florinda at Toledo, 137, 138

Bathing in the Tagus at Toledo, 121-136

Bath-room of the Sultana, Alhambra, 184

Bautista, J., builder of the Escurial, 104

Baylen, 159;

the church, 160

Bayonne, 120

Bidassoa, bridge over the, 14

Billiard-playing at Madrid, 86

Berruguete, tomb of the Cardinal at Toledo, by, 140

Blades of Toledo, 141, 142

Blanca, Count de Florida, village founded by, 158

Boabdil, king, 179

Bordeaux, 6-10;

hotel touters at, 7;

the theatre, 8;

the grisettes, 8;

the cathedral, 8;

Tower of St. Michael, 8;

vault of Mummies, 9;

Hospice des Vieillards, 10;

the museum, 10;

the port, 10;

the theatre, 10

Bradamant and Galiana, legend of, 135, 136

Bridge of boats across the Guadalquiver at Seville, 263

Briones, Francisco, of Madrid, the picador, 223

Briviesca, village of, 26

Bucaros, and mode of using them, 89

Buen Retiro, palace at Madrid, 94

Bull, the, in the arena at Madrid, 67-69

Bull-fight, description of a, at Madrid, 57-73;

at Malaga, 221-229;

at Jeres, 284-288

Burgos, 27-45;

public place at, 27;

romantic appearance of the beggars at, 27;

the convicts, 27;

the fonda, 28;

fountain, 29;

the cathedral, 30-41;

the Puerta de Santa Maria, 41, 42;

Cartuja de Miraflores, 42-45;

General Thibaud and the Cid's bones, 45

Cacin, 212

Cadiz, 277-282;

the Calle San Francisco, 277;

appearance of the town, 278;

Plaza de Toros, 279; ramparts, 279;

the _Voltigeur_, 280, 281;

Cadiz from the sea, 282

Calderon de la Barca and his plays, 232

Calesero, the, 143

Calle d'Alcala at Madrid, 60

Calle de Carretas at Madrid, 60

Calle de Parragas at Granada, 165

Calle de los Caballeros at Ecija, 242

Campeador (_see_ Cid)

Caramanchel, village of, 114

Caratraca, 238

Carbon, Puerta del, at Seville, 264

Cardinal's Hospital at Toledo, 140, 141

Caridad, Hospital de la, at Seville, 272

Cartagena de Levante, 295, 296

Carthusian Convent, Cartuja de Miraflores, 27;

visit to, 42, 44;

at Granada, 194, 195

Carvings in wood and stone in Burgos Cathedral, 30, 31, 38;

the Passion of our Lord, stone carving by Philip of Burgundy, 35;

stalls of Burgos Cathedral, 35, 36

Casa del Cordon at Burgos, 41

Casa de Pupilos at Granada, 164

Castil de Peones, village of, 26

Cathedral of Bordeaux, 8;

of Burgos, 30-41;

of Toledo, 119-125;

of Jaen, 160, 161;

at Seville, 265-270;

of Barcelona, 301

Cellini, Benvenuto, statue of the Escurial attributed to, 109

Cervesa de Santa Barbara con limon, 82

Chains at San Juan de los Reyes, at Toledo, 131

Charlemagne and Galiana, legend of, 135, 136

Charles III., statue of, at Burgos, 27

Château Regnault, 2

Châtellerault, 3

Chulos at Madrid, 61-64

"Christ on the Cross," at Burgos, 31

Cid, the, his chest at Burgos, 32, 33;

his bones, 45

Coffee-houses at Madrid, 81-83

Cormana, 257

Cordova, 246-255;

magnificent gateway, 246;

appearance of Cordova, 247;

Mosque at Cordova, 249-254;

the Foundling Hospital, 255;

the Guadalquiver, 255

Cork-tree, the, 11

Cormana, 257

Cornelio, the Cicerone of the Escurial, 107

Correo Real, el, the Spanish diligence, 49

Costume of the ladies at Madrid, 75, 78, 90;

of the men, 79;

of the peasants of Andalusia, 162;

of the inhabitants of Granada, 167-169

Court of Lions, Alhambra, 185-189

Covarubias, builder of the Alcazar at Toledo, 119

Crickets kept in cages at Madrid, 83

Cristina, the, at Seville, 261

Cubzac, Bridge of, 6

Dances, national, aversion to among the higher classes, 92

Dangers of the Spanish roads, 210, 211

Darro, the, at Granada, 168

Dax, 11

Depopulation of Spain, 54

Diez, Matilde, the actress, 232

Dogs used at bull-fights, 71, 72

Dome of the Escurial, 109

Dos de Mayo, monument to the victims of the, at Madrid, 93

Drama, Spanish, its utter decline, 232, 233

Dramatic authors, Spanish, 255

Dueñas, 50

Duque, the Alameda del, at Seville, 260, 261

Eagles on the Sierra Nevada, 204

Ecija, 241, 242

Encampment on the mountains, 205, 206

Environs of Madrid, 147; of Malaga, 218;

of Cadiz, 278

Equipages at Madrid, 74

Ernani, town of, 19

Escopeteros, 14

Escurial, visit to the, 103-112;

foundation of the building by Philip II., 104;

its gloomy appearance, 104;

formed like a gridiron in honour of St. Lawrence, 105;

curious colour of the walls, 105, 106;

the courtyard and church, 106, 107;

the blind cicerone Cornelio, 107;

the Pantheon, 107, 108;

the sacristy, 108;

the library, 108, 109;

marble figure of Christ, attributed to Benvenuto Cellini, 109;

the dome, 109

Espada or Matador, the, 64, 69, 70

Exchange, the, at Seville, 270

Excitement of spectators at a bull-fight, 71-73

Extortion at Spanish inns, 238, 239

Fan, the, universally used in Spain, 75, 76

Farmhouse hospitality, 241

_Fire_ sold at Madrid, 81

Florinda's Bath at Toledo, 137, 138

Fonda San Estaban at Bayonne, 12;

at Castile, 28;

de la Amistad at Madrid, 58;

del Caballero at Toledo, 116, 117

Fountain with statue of our Saviour at Burgos, 29;

at Madrid, 80-97;

of Lions, Alhambra, 186-188

Francisco, Calle San, 277

Frescoes at Angoulême, 4

Furniture of Spanish houses, 88

Galera, the Spanish, 49

Galiana's Palace at Toledo, 134, 135

Garbanzo, the, 19

Gaspacho, or cold garlic soup, 216, 217, 241

Gateway at Cordova, 276

Gatien, St., at Tours, 3

Generalife, the, near the Alhambra, 189

Gibraltar, 291-295

Gitanos and Gitanas at Granada, 193, 194;

at Seville, 265

Gomeles, Calle de los, at Granada, 169

Goya, Francisco, his works and life, 95-102

Granada, 164-207;

Fonda del Comercio, 164;

Louis the cicerone, 164, 165;

the Calle de Parragas, 165;

view of the Alhambra, 166;

the Darro, 166;

general aspect of Granada, 167;

the inhabitants, 167, 168;

picturesque costumes of the peasantry, 169;

the Spanish tailor, 170;

the Alameda, 171;

the Xenil, 171;

Tertulias, 173;

the Zacatin, 177;

the Alhambra, 177-192;

the Gitanos and Gitanas, 192, 193;

Monte Sagrado, the Carthusian convent, 194, 195;

Monastery of San Juan de Dios, 195, 196;

Convent of San Geronimo, 196;

Convent of San Domingo, 196, 197;

baths of Granada, 197, 198;

Society at Granada, 198-201;

ascent of the Mulhacen, 201-207

Gregorian and Mozarabic rituals, 126, 127

Guadarrama, 57

Guadalquivir, the, 160, 257, 262, 274-276

Guevara, dramatic author, 232

Guilhen de Castro, dramatic author, 233

Guzman, Antonio, the actor, 91

Hall of Ambassadors, in the Alhambra, 181-183;

of the two Sisters, 185

Harvest and harvest carts, 150

Heat of the weather at Madrid, 89;

at Toledo, 117;

at Ocaña, 149

Heaths near Valladolid, 53

Hercules, the French, at Vittoria, 23

---- grotto of, at Toledo, 138-140

Hernani, ou l'Honneur Castillan, 53

Herrera, builder of the Escurial, 105

Homenaga, the tower of, in the Alhambra, 179

Horses of Andalusia, 207

Hospice des Vieillards, at Bordeaux, 10

Hospital, Foundling, at Cordova, 256

Host, unwillingness of the people to worship the, 146

Houses, underground, near Vendôme, 2;

at Toledo, 118;

at Ecija, 243

Iced drinks--bebidas heladas, 81, 82

Illescas, town of, 115;

Moorish remains near, 115

Impartiality of the Spanish public, 226

Inns, Spanish, extortion at, 238

Irun and its bridge, 13

Isle of Pheasants, 13

Jaen, city of, the cathedral, 161-163

Jarras, for cooling water, 87, 88

Jeres, bull-fights, ridiculous and tragical episodes, 284-288

Jewish synagogue at Toledo, 133

Juan, Don, de Marana, founder of an hospital at Seville, 272

Juan Eugenio Hartzembusch, the author, 229

Juliano, count, father of Florinda, 137

Justice, the gate of, in the Alhambra, 178

La Carlotta, road from Ecija to, 243;

the inn, treachery of our hosts, 244, 245

La Guardia, town of, 151

Ladies of Madrid, 75, 76

Lady, our, of Toledo, 129

Landes, the, 4;

desolate appearance of, 11

Lanza the cosario, 208

Legend of our Lady of Toledo, 121, 122;

of Galiana's palace, 135, 136;

of Florinda's bath at Toledo, 137, 138;

of Rodriguez and the Moors, 138-140

Library of the Escurial, 108, 109

Lindaraja, garden of, in the Alhambra, 184

Longa, or Exchange, at Seville, 270

Lope de Vega, the author, 233

Los Perros, Puerto de, 156

Louis, the cicerone of Granada, 164, 165

Lucar, San, on the Guadalquiver, 276

Luna, Don Alvar de, chapel of, at Toledo, 125

Lyceum, the, at Granada, 198

Madrid, 57-102;

approach to the city--arid scenery, 57;

Puerta de Hierro, 58;

Fonda de la Amistad, 58;

bull-fight, description of, 57-73;

the matador or espada, 59;

the Calle de Carretas, 60;

the Calle d'Alcala, 60;

Calesins, 60;

Manolas and Manolos, 60, 77, 78;

the Plaza de Toros and Toril, 60, 61;

chulos, banderilleros, picadores, and aficionados, 61;

interior arrangement of the arena, costume of the actors, &c., 62-65;

Sevilla the picador, 65, 66;

the bull, 67-69;

Juan Pasta, the espada, 69, 70;

the spectators and their excitement, 71-73;

the Prado, 73;

equipages of Madrid, 74;

ladies of Madrid--the mantilla and fan, 75, 76;

the Spanish type, 77;

costume of the men, 79;

trade in water and fire, 79-81;

the Manzanares, 80;

coffee-houses--the Bolsa, the Café Nuevo, Café del Levante, &c., 81,

83;

iced drinks--the bebida de naranja, de limon, de fresa de guindas,

&c., 81, 82;

quesitos, little ices, 82;

newspapers in the coffee-houses, 83;

the Puerta del Sol, 83;

the post-office, 83-85;

cigars, 84;

political conversation, 84;

the houses at Madrid, 85-87;

billiards, 86;

Spanish preserves, 86;

jarras for cooling water, 87;

heat at Madrid, 89;

Bucaros, 89;

parties, or tertulias, 89, 90;

morals, 90, 91;

deference paid to women, 91;

the Teatro del Principe, 91, 92;

Spanish dancers and dancing, 92;

the queen's palace, 92;

the meeting of the Cortes, 93;

monument to the victims of the Dos de Mayo, 93;

the Armeria, 93;

carriages of Joanna of Aragon and of Charles V., 93;

fountains, 94;

bridge of Toledo, 94;

the Buen Retiro and its fantastic gardens, 94;

the museum, 95;

cabinet of Natural History and pictures--Goya and his works, 95-102

Maïquez, funeral column in memory of, 171

Majos, the, 162;

at Granada, 169

Malaga, 219-236;

Negro galley-slaves, 219;

parador of the three kings, 219, 220;

travelling students, 220;

Circus at Malaga, 221;

beauty of the Spanish women, 221-223;

national airs, 223;

the picadores Antonio Sanchez, Jose Trigo, and Francisco Briones,

223;

Montes and Jose Parra, the matadores, 224, 225;

the Napoleon of the herd--failure of Montes, 227, 228;

rage of the populace, 228, 229;

the theatre, 229, 230;

the dancers, 230-232;

theatres and dramatic authors in Spain, 232-234

Manners of the Spaniards, 90, 91, 198-201

Manolas and manolos at Madrid, 60, 77-78

Mantilla, the, worn at Madrid, 76, 170

Manzanares, the town of, 153

Mastodon, bones of, in the museum at Madrid, 95

Mayoral, the Spanish stage-coachman, 46

Media Luna, used at bull-fights, 285

Michael, St., tower of, at Bordeaux, 8

Miguel Cervantes, statue of, at Madrid, 93

Miquelets, or gendarmes, 212

Miranda, 24

Mondragon, village of, 20

Montalban, dramatic author, 232

Montes, the Espada, 208, 224-229

Mosque at Cordova, 249-254

Monument to Charles the Fifth at Granada, 178

Mountains near Olmedo, 55

Mozarabic chapel at Toledo, 125

Mules, Spanish 14, 46, 47;

their obstinacy, 210, 214

Muleta, the, 69

Mulhacen, ascent of the, 201-207

Mummified corpses in St. Michael's Tower, 8, 9

Murillo, his "Ecce Homo" at Burgos, 31;

beautiful paintings by, at Seville, 272

Museum at Bordeaux, 10;

at Madrid, 95

Napoleon, the, of the herd, 226-228

Navajas, knives sold at Santa Cruz and Albacete, 155

Negro galley-slaves at Malaga, 219;

killed at a bull-fight at Jeres, 288

Nevada, Sierra, 160;

ascent of, 201, 207;

intense cold on the, 206

Novel baths at Granada, 197, 198

Nueva, Plaza, at Granada, 177

Ocaña, 149

Ocean, the steamer, at Jeres, 288, 289

Olmedo, 54; deserted appearance of, 52

Orchaterias de Chufas at Madrid, 82

Organs in Burgos Cathedral, 39;

at Barcelona, 301

Oyarzun, 17

Palace, the Queen's, at Madrid, 92, 93

Pantheon, the, in the Escurial, 107, 108

Pancorbo, Pass of, 25;

romantic appearance of, 25

Parador, the, at Jaen, 161;

at Malaga, 219

Pasiega, the Spanish Nurse, 54;

at Madrid, 78

Passion of our Lord, stone-carving, 35

Pasta, Juan, the Espada, 69, 70

Patio, the, 149;

de los Arrayanes, 180

Picadores, 61, 63, 64;

Sevilla, the, 65-69;

Rodriguez, the, 66-68

Pictures by Murillo, Jordaens, Theotocopuli, Delacroix, and others, in

the Cathedral of Burgos, 31, 32-34;

the Holy Family in Burgos Cathedral, 39;

Martyrdom of Santa Casilda, 40;

Collection in a Church at Valladolid, 51;

Pictures by Raphael, Titian, Paolo Veronese, Rubens, Velasquez,

Murillo, and others, in the Museum at Madrid, 95;

in the Cabinet of Natural History, works of El Greco, Murillo, and

Goya, 95-102;

of Velasquez, Maella, and others, in the Palace at Madrid, 92;

works of Titian, Raphael, Paolo Veronese, &c., in the Museum at

Madrid, 95;

works of Murillo, Ribeira, and Goya, in the Academy, 95-102;

in the sacristy of the Escurial, 108;

by El Greco, at Toledo, 140, 141;

by Murillo, at Seville, 272

Pine-trees in the Landes, 11

Plaza de Toros at Madrid, 60, 61

Politicians of Madrid, 84, 85

Portraits (_see_ Pictures).

Posada, the Spanish, 26;

near Olmedo, 55;

at Jaen, 162

Post-office at Madrid, 85

Prado, the, at Madrid, 73

Preserves, Spanish, 86, 87

Priests, Spanish, 20

Procession of the Corpus Christi at Madrid, 145, 146

Puchero, the Spanish national dish, 18, 19

Puerta de Santa Maria at Burgos, 41;

de Hierro at Madrid, 57;

Del Sol at Madrid, 83, 84;

Del Sol at Toledo, 115

Puerto Lapiche, 152

Pyrenees, the, 12, 16

Quails kept in cages at Madrid, 83

Quebrada, tower of, 179

Quevedo, dramatic author, 282

Quintanapalla, village of, 26

Ravine of Los Molinos, 189, 190

Road from Valez-Malaga to Malaga, 217

Road to Jeres, 283

Robbers, anecdote of Spanish, 110-112;

adventures with, 209;

their position in Spain, 235, 236

Rodrigo, archbishop of Toledo, lays the first stone of the cathedral,

123

Rodriguez, Antonio, the picador, 66-68

Rojas, dramatic authors, 232

Roman amphitheatre at Toledo, 142

Romea, Julian, the actor, 91

Romero, Alexandro, the huntsman's guide, 201

Rueda, dramatic author, 232

Ruins of fortifications near Baylen, 160

Ruins of Italica, near Seville, 263, 264

Sacristy, the, in the Escurial, 108

Sagrado, Monte, at Granada, 194

Saint Jean de Luz, 13

Saint Louis, Reliquary of, at Toledo, 127

San Domingo, Granada, 197

San Juan de los Reyes, at Toledo, 119, 130-133

San Juan de Dios, Convent of, 195, 196

Salinas, hill of, 20

Santa Cruz, 155

Santa Maria de los Nieves, 55

Sanchez, Antonio of Seville, the picador, 223

Saynete, a comic piece, at Malaga, 230, 231

Servant-girls, Spanish, 28

Sevilla the picador, 65-67, 72, 73

Seville, 258-273;

general appearance of the city, 258, 259;

beauty of the women, 259;

their little feet, 260;

the Alameda del Duque, 260, 261;

the Cristina, 261;

the Guadalquiver, and the Torre del Oro, 261, 262;

Murillos at Seville, 263;

Bridge of Boats, 263;

Ruins of Italica, 263, 264;

the Puerta de Triana, 264;

Puertas del Carbon and del Aceite, 264;

Gitanas, 265;

the cathedral, 265-270;

the Lonja or Exchange, 270;

the Alcazar, 270, 271;

tobacco manufactory, 271, 272;

the Cigarera of Seville, 272;

Hospital de la Caridad, founded by Don Juan de Marina, 272;

beautiful paintings by Murillo, 272;

the circus, 273

Sierra Morena, the, 155-157

Siesta, the, 149

Smuggling, human, 13

Soldiers, Spanish, their contentment and good-humour, 151

Spires of the cathedral of Toledo, 129, 130

Stalls in Burgos Cathedral, 35, 36

Students singing in the streets, 220

Suspiro del Moro, el, 179

Synagogue, the Jewish, at Toledo, 133

Tailor, the, of Granada, 169, 170

Tarifa, and the African coast, 296

Tagus, the, at Toledo, 119, 120

Tauromachia, school of, at Seville, 273

Tembleque, 151, 152

Temperance of the Spaniards, 148

Tertulias, or parties, at Madrid, 89, 90;

at Granada, 173-176

Theatre at Bordeaux, 10;

at Burgos, 42;

at Valladolid, 52-55;

Teatro del Principe at Madrid, 91;

at Malaga, 229-233

Thibaut, General, and the Cid's bones, 45

Tirso, dramatic author, 232

Tizona, the Cid's sword, 45

Tobacco, manufactory of, at Seville, 271, 272

Tocador, the, in the Alhambra, 183, 184

Toledo, 115-143;

the Alcazar, 119;

the cathedral, 119-125;

the Gregorian and Mozarabic ritual, 125-127;

Our Lady of Toledo, 128, 129;

San Juan de los Reyes, 130-133;

the synagogue, 133, 134;

Galiana, Karl, and Bradamant, 134-136;

the bath of Florinda, 136-138;

the grotto of Hercules, 138-140;

the cardinal's hospital, 140, 141;

Toledo blades, 141

Tolosa, 19

Tomb of the cardinal at Toledo, 140

Toril, the, at Madrid, 61

Toros, Plaza de, at Cadiz, 279

Torre del Oro, the, at Seville, 261

Torrents near Oyarzun, 17;

near Olmedo, 55

Torrequemada, town of, 47, 48

Tours, bridge of, 3

Travelling students singing for money at Malaga, 220

Triana, Puerta de, at Seville, 264

Trigo, Jose, of Seville, the picador, 223

Urrugne, 42

Val-de-Peñas and its vineyards, 154, 155;

name signifying "Valley of Stones", 155

Valencia, 297-299

Valencianos, 56

Valez-Malaga, 216

Valladolid, 50-53;

San Pablo, 50, 51;

collection of pictures, 51;

Museum, 51, 52;

Plaza de la Constitucion, 52;

Compo Grande, 52;

Theatre, 52, 53

Vase of the Alhambra, 181

Vela, tower of, in the Alhambra, 179

Vendres Porte, 301

Venta de Trigueros, 50

Vergara, 19, 20

Virgin, chapel of the, at Toledo, 127

Visit to a Morocco merchant at Gibraltar, 296, 297

Vista Allegro, Fonda de, 283

Vittoria, 21-24;

the Parador vejo, 21;

the Church, 22;

the Theatre, Baile Nacional, and the French Hercules, 23, 24

_Voltigeur_, visit to the brig, 280, 281

Wagons drawn by oxen, 5, 15

Wardrobe of Our Lady of Toledo, 129

Water, sale of, at Madrid, 79, 80

Water-melon, the, 213;

refreshing qualities of, 213

Women, number of old, in Old Castile, 26;

of Madrid, 75, 76;

beauty of the women of Malaga, 221;

of those of Seville, 259, 260

Zacatin, the 177

Zagal, the Spanish, 15

THE END.

Savill & Edwards, Printers, Chandos Street, Covent Garden.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] This work corresponds to "The Heads of the People," published,

some time since, in London.--TRANSLATOR.

[2] _Culotté_ is the term applied by smokers to a pipe coloured by

long use.--TRANSLATOR.

[3] The well-known popular source of amusement to the Parisian

pleasure-seeker of days now past.

[4] The hangman.

[5] £800 or £1000.

[6] Philippe d'Orléans.

[7] The _Temple_ in Paris is a sort of large market where old

clothes are sold, something like what Monmouth-street used to be.

[8] Eighty degrees Fahrenheit. The author here, as well as all

through his works reckons the degree of heat by the thermometer

termed "Centigrade."

[9] The song says, "her arms,"--_los brazos_.

[10] A brigand is said to receive the benefit of the _indulto_ when

he voluntarily gives himself up and is pardoned.

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE

Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been

corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within

the text and consultation of external sources.

Five occurrences of omitted names, indicated by '* * *' in the

original text, have been replaced by '----'.

The 'Frontispiece' noted in the list of 'Illustrations' is missing

from this edition of the book.

Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,

and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. For example,

court-yard, courtyard; bull-fights, bullfights; Sierra Nevada,

Sierra Neveda; torreros, toreros; asphaltic; heroical; ideality;

whipt; stopt; unsimilar.

Pg iv, 'Puerto del Sol' replaced by 'Puerta del Sol'.

Pg v, 'los Cabelleros' replaced by 'los Caballeros'.

Pg 3, 'and De Balzac' replaced by 'and de Balzac'.

Pg 3, 'long orgie' replaced by 'long orgy'.

Pg 5, 'Eginetic' replaced by 'Elginetic'.

Pg 14, 'at Listz's concert' replaced by 'at Liszt's concert'.

Pg 14, 'escopoteros' replaced by 'escopeteros'.

Pg 15, 'escopoteros' replaced by 'escopeteros' (twice).

Pg 16, 'Biaritz' replaced by 'Biarritz'.

Pg 19, 'and succeds but' replaced by 'and succeeds but'.

Pg 21, 'escopoteros' replaced by 'escopeteros'.

Pg 29, 'bezil of a ring' replaced by 'bezel of a ring'.

Pg 32, 'these portaits' replaced by 'these portraits'.

Pg 54, 'exactly to canvass' replaced by 'exactly to canvas'.

Pg 64, 'which they unrol' replaced by 'which they unroll'.

Pg 92, 'chorographic portions' replaced by 'choreographic portions'.

Pg 113, 'Puerto del Sol' replaced by 'Puerta del Sol'.

Pg 116, 'del Cabellero' replaced by 'del Caballero'.

Pg 139, 'cartouch' replaced by 'cartouche'.

Pg 152, 'same reputatation' replaced by 'same reputation'.

Pg 182, 'Arabian caligraphy' replaced by 'Arabian calligraphy'.

Pg 190, 'the aloes opens' replaced by 'the aloe opens'.

Pg 190, 'it knotty wood' replaced by 'its knotty wood'.

Pg 190, 'modern belvidere' replaced by 'modern belvedere'.

Pg 204, 'Romeros decided' replaced by 'Romero decided'.

Pg 210, 'to distingush' replaced by 'to distinguish'.

Pg 212, 'Son tuo labios' replaced by 'Son tus labios'.

Pg 212, 'Entre cortena' replaced by 'Entre cortina'.

Pg 217, 'aloes-trees' replaced by 'aloe-trees'.

Pg 218, 'aloes-trees' replaced by 'aloe-trees'.

Pg 218, 'afficionados' replaced by 'aficionados'.

Pg 234, 'subtilties' replaced by 'subtleties'.

Pg 235, 'Esprouceda' replaced by 'Espronceda'.

Pg 238, 'in Britanny' replaced by 'in Brittany'.

Pg 244, 'with our mattrass' replaced by 'with our mattress'.

Pg 252, 'Herman Riuz' replaced by 'Hernán Ruiz'.

Pg 257, 'aficienados' replaced by 'aficionados'.

Pg 257, 'superb aquaduct' replaced by 'superb aqueduct'.

Pg 264, 'del Accite' replaced by 'del Aceite'.

Pg 270, 'Santi-Pouer' replaced by 'Santi-Pouce'.

Pg 273, 'norillos' replaced by 'novillos'.

Pg 287, 'cameleons' replaced by 'chameleons' (twice).

Pg 291, 'monstrous monolinth' replaced by 'monstrous monolith'.

Pg 297, 'as if had' replaced by 'as if it had'.

Pg 298, 'romances and chrocles' replaced by 'romances and chronicles'.

Index:

Accite: replaced by 'Aceite'.

Briores: replaced by 'Briones'.

Calle de Caritas: replaced by 'Calle de Carretas'.

Calle de Parragos: replaced by 'Calle de Parragas'.

Cervesa: replaced by 'Cerveza'.

Gomelos: replaced by 'Gomeles'.

Hospital: 'Cardova' replaced by 'Cordova'.

Lindaraga: replaced by 'Lindaraja'.

Madrid: 'bebida de Naranga' replaced by 'bebida de naranja'.

Rogas: replaced by 'Rojas'.

Ruins: 'fortificatinos' replaced by 'fortifications'.

Salinos: replaced by 'Salinas'.

Seville: 'Puerta de Triana;' replaced by 'Puerta de Triana, 264;'.

Seville: 'del Accite' replaced by 'del Aceite'.

Suspire del Mora: replaced by 'Suspiro del Moro'.

Women: 'Old Castille' replaced by 'Old Castile'.

End of Project Gutenberg's Wanderings in Spain, by Théophile Gautier