GIFT F 
 Prof. C.A, Kofoid 
 
DONNA MARIA 
 
 1886. 
 

 THE SERENADE 
 
 GEORGE DE-- V YORK 
 
 1836. 
 

SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 
 J'ai toujours cru qu'il faut descendre dans les classes infSrieures pour 
 connqitre les yeritables moeurs d'un pays, parceque chiles des riches 
 sont partout les memes. ROUSSEAU. 
 
 NEW. YORK: 
 
 GEORGE DEARBORN, 38 GOLD-STREET 
 
 1837. 
 
S37 
 
 / 
 
 
 [Entered according to the Act of Congress of the United States of 
 America, in the year 1837, by GEORGE DEARBORN, in the Clerk's 
 Office of the Southern District of New- York.] 
 
 NEW- YORK: 
 
 Printed by SCA.TCHERD & ADAMS, 
 No. 38 Gold Street. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THE following brief sketch of the Writer's 
 visit to Spain in the Summer of 1831 was 
 prepared for the press soon after his return 
 to his native country. Various circumstances 
 have delayed its publication, until the period 
 to which it refers has become a sufficiently 
 remote one. The political condition of Spain 
 is altered, and she has passed from the tyran- 
 ny of despotism to the worse tyranny of anar- 
 chy. Notwithstanding all these changes, the 
 manners of the people have, doubtless, under- 
 gone little if any alteration : and the slight 
 and passing pictures of life here given, such as 
 the writer traced them on the spot, would 
 perhaps still portray with equal fidelity the 
 customs of a country, which, in the midst 
 of revolutions, remains in so many respects 
 the same. 
 
 New Orleans, 1836. 
 
 M1G1984: 
 

 
SCENES IN SPAIN 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 THE BAY OF GIBRALTAR. 
 
 I HAD passed a bright June day in rambling over 
 the wild rock of Gibraltar, that singular land-mark 
 which nature has reared from the bosom of. the 
 water to mark the southern boundary of Europe, 
 and which in the olden time was regarded as the 
 consecrated limit of the habitable world. - Beyond, 
 as was supposed, rolled a wide waste of waters, to 
 explore whose trackless expanse would have been 
 deemed an act of blind and fruitless desperation. 
 While I looked with wonder on this bold work of 
 nature, I explored, too, with curious surprise, the 
 efforts of human labour, where the cunning hand of 
 man had dug into the bowels of that huge barrier of 
 
 1 
 
6 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 rock, and planted within its gloomy caverns the ter- 
 rtble .eugixiOs ;o .destruction and death. 
 
 TUt; full orb; 'of 'the sun was fast descending, 
 to hide itself beyond the rugged hills of Europe 
 and Africa, as they lay blended together in the 
 direction of the Straits, brightening the sails of 
 the ships that were seen in every direction on the 
 surrounding waters, flashing upon the oars of the 
 humbler boats and wherries that were plying in the 
 harbour, and illuminating, with a mellow light, the 
 bosom of the sea. Far away in the distance, and 
 just opposite the little town of Algesiras, one could 
 descry the black hull and tall masts of an American 
 frigate, in which I had a few days before arrived in 
 the bay of Gibraltar. On the morrow I was to 
 start with a party of her officers on an excursion to 
 the mountain village of Rotida, and I now hastened 
 to the harbour for fear of being locked up in the town 
 for the night, and thus losing all the promised plea- 
 sure of an amusing journey with gay companions- 
 When the hour of sunset is announced by the thun- 
 der of a single gun from the summit of the Rock, 
 the drawbridge is raised by the watchful warder, the 
 sturdy iron-bound gates are closed ; and while those 
 
THE FORTRESS. O 
 
 who are within the town must stay there, such un- 
 lucky people as are caught without must wait pa- 
 tiently till the rising of the sun is announced by the 
 same loud-toned herald. 
 
 I found the quay near the city gate crowded, as 
 usual, with a motley throng of all nations and tongues ; 
 turbaned Turks, dirty, bare-legged Jews, Catalans 
 with red woollen caps, stingy little jackets, and trow- 
 sers up to their arm-pits; broad-faced Dutchmen, 
 and hale, hearty Britons. A Highland centinel, in 
 kilt and tartan, and plumed bonnet, moved slowly up 
 and down near the drawbridge, stopping at intervals 
 to present arms to some passing officer; while beside 
 the quay, among a crowd of boats of all shapes and 
 fashions, lay a barge, in whose comely proportions, 
 and in the blue-collared shirts, duck trowsers, and 
 low tarpaulin hats of the stout crew that manned 
 it, I recognized a boat from the American frigate. 
 One by one the officers for whom she was waiting 
 came hurrying over the drawbridge, and the last 
 loiterer had scarce arrived, when a flash from the rug- 
 ged summit of the Rock announced the setting of the 
 sun. The drawbridge was presently raised, and the 
 .sturdy gates of the city swung heavily together. A 
 
4 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 pennant sent down from the main-mast Iread, and 
 the roll of a drum which died away in an echo from 
 the rocky cliffs, showed that the hour was noted 
 with equal punctuality by a man-of-war that lay in 
 the harbour. Of the warlike inmates of the impreg- 
 nable fortress no one was now to be seen, except 
 here and there a sentry upon the ramparts, who, with 
 the mechanical precision of an automaton, paced 
 slowly uy and down the limits of his, beat. 
 
 Our crowded boat presently shoved off, and my 
 companions whiled away the time of our passage 
 across the bay with detailing the adventures of their 
 day ashore. Many a joke went round among these 
 light-hearted sons of Mars and Neptune, which was 
 received with a due tribute of laughter by all, ex- 
 cept the little midshipman in command of the boat, 
 the hardy Jack tars who manned her, and the broad 
 shouldered , big whiskered coxswain who sat perched 
 in the stern high above the rest, his right hand on 
 the tiller, and his keen gray eye steadily fixed upon 
 the distant frigate, whose form was now becoming 
 less distinct on the horizon. The gathering shades 
 of evening presently obscured her entirely ; even 
 the huge mountain of rock we were leaving 
 
 
THE FRIGATE. 
 
 behind grew more and more dim in the twilight ; 
 and as its frowning form gradually disappeared, the 
 lights began to tremble here and there in the little 
 town that lies crouching at its base. 
 
 It is a long pull across the bay of Gibraltar, and 
 an hour or two elapsed ere we neared the shores of 
 Algesiras. When the dark hull of the frigate became 
 dimly visible, the boat's crew, at the stern cormnand 
 of the senior officer, " Give way now, \ff lads 1" 
 cheerily quickened their stroke, and each plunge of 
 the oars in the sparkling water brought them nearer 
 to their floating home. The black mass of her 
 wooden walls now rose more distinctly on the evening 
 sky ; and at length the tall masts, the well-squared 
 yards, and the tracery of her rigging, were visible. 
 Presently we were hailed by a deep-toned but clear 
 voice from the ship ; the hail was shrilly answered 
 by the midshipman. In the next moment, as we 
 carne alongside, a lantern appeared on either side of 
 the gangway, held by two little side boys, clad in 
 round jackets, tarpaulin hats, ample trowsers of 
 duck, and canvass slippers ; Jack tars in miniature 
 Each officer ascended the side in the order of his 
 rank, noticing for a moment the etiquette of the pro- 
 1* 
 
6 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 fession, which was presently forgotten as they gain- 
 ed the precincts of the ward-room. 
 
 Here their messmates were anxiously overhauling 
 a letter bag, brought from their far-off country by a 
 vessel just arrived. The letters were placed upon 
 the mess-table, those harbingers of joy or sorrow from 
 parents and friends, wives and sweethearts, from 
 whom 'they had long been separated by the wide At- 
 lantic. ^Each was anxiously hunting for his own 
 share in the spoils of the emptied mail-bag, running 
 over the various superscriptions with greedy eyes, 
 to detect, among the promiscuous heap, the familiar 
 hand-writing of his own absent friends. Those who 
 found them hied away to the privacy of their ca- 
 bins, to con over those long-expected pledges of af- 
 tionate remembrance ; while the disappointed shrug- 
 ged their shoulders with an air of blended dissatis- 
 faction and anxiety. 
 
 Next came the task of preparing for the morrow's 
 journey. The gunner was summoned to furnish a 
 brace of pistols for each traveller, with a due allow- 
 ance of ball and powder. " Look well to the flints," 
 said one of our comrades, "for we want no child's 
 play with thtf4and pirates." A draft was also made 
 
HE CARAVAN. / 
 
 on the steward of the mess for a sturdy Virginia ham 
 and good store of biscuit to stay our stomachs by the 
 way-side. We had read in Don Quixote that Spa- 
 nish inns are more bountifully supplied with fleas 
 than fodder ; and besides, one of our number had 
 sojourned " A year in Spain," and had spied out for 
 himself the nakedness of the land. 
 
 When all these prudent arrangements were made, 
 we sought, at a late hour, a short repose from the fa- 
 tigue of a day ashore, with mutual promises to be 
 tip at the first tap of the drum for reveille in the morn- 
 ing. 
 
 " God's blessing," said Sancho Panza, " be upon the 
 man who first invented that self-same thing called 
 sleep, for it covers a man all over like a cloak." 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 THE CARAVAN. 
 
 As our little party, followed by a half dozen sail- 
 
 ^ ors bearing our baggage and stores of provender, with 
 
 a score of ugly looking boarding pistols, wound their 
 
 way to the Inn of the Four Nations of Algesiras, 
 
 many a head was thrust out at the doorways, and 
 
8 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 many a black eye peeped through lattice and bal- 
 cony, to scan us as we passed. Algesiras is a quiet, 
 sleepy little town, though it lies so favourably for 
 commerce on the sea-shore, and at the entrance of 
 the Straits. Had we made our appearance in the 
 same way at Gibraltar, on the other side of the bay, 
 not a man, woman, or child would have care.d a 
 fig's end about us ; but here the muleteer stopped be- 
 labouring his long-eared charge, and leant on his 
 staff as we went by; the water carrier ceased his 
 lazy nasal cry of "agua! agua !" the cobler laid down 
 his lap-stone and hied to the porch, hammer in hand ; 
 while his neighbour, the barber, he at the sign of the 
 bleeding leg and the brazen basin, hushed his segui- 
 dilla and the scratching of his guitar, to note with 
 professional inquisitiveness the passing strangers. 
 
 One Manuel Franco, a Cosario of Algesiras, had 
 engaged to furnish horses for our party, and to act 
 as our guide to Ronda. At the appointed hour, he 
 made his appearance with some eight or nine horses, 
 a pair of mules, and three hardy Andalusians, with 
 carabines in their hands , who were to serve as our * 
 escort. The horses did not make a very gallant 
 show, being raw-boned beasts with shaggy, uncomb- 
 
THE COLLIER. VJ 
 
 ed manes and tails 3 and rudely accoutred with clumsy 
 Moorish saddles. 'Tis true Don Manuel had taken 
 better care of one of our party, who had made the 
 bargain with him, and for whom he had prepared a 
 white charger, that had once belonged to the chief of 
 a band of contrabandistas. He was an animal of 
 very efficient and respectable figure, and his saddle 
 was garnished with a pair of old-fashioned holsters ; 
 whereas the rest of us were obliged to secure our 
 pistols to the saddle-bow with pieces of pack-thread. 
 To my own lot fell one of the mules, a thin legged lit- 
 tle animal, low in stature and of a sooty colour, from 
 which he had got the name of Carbonero, or the 
 Collier. He had a bridle of rope, which, instead of a 
 bit, had a stout piece of iron that fitted about his nose ; 
 and he was almost covered by a big Moorish saddle, 
 that rose into a peak before and behind, and had 
 great iron stirrups as long and as wide as shovels. 
 Prom the little Collier's air of melancholy resignation, 
 as he stood on three legs with drooping ears and his 
 head leaning against the porch of the posada, I 
 took him to be of a meek and quiet spirit, patient of 
 toil, and beating, and starvation ; those ills that 
 every Spanish mule is heir to. I thought how much 
 
10 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 reason the poor wo-begone little beast had for his 
 dejectedness, going day after day over hill and dale, 
 laden with heavy panniers and obdurate bales, buf- 
 feted and banged unmercifully, called by all sorts of 
 hard names, and fain to fill his belly once a day 
 with a little straw, a stingy handful of barley, 
 and the grass gleaned here and there by the road- 
 side. 
 
 Now, however true may have been my specula- 
 tions about the Collier's hardships and sufferings, 
 he was any thing but the quiet, meek-spirited crea- 
 ture I had taken him for ; on the contrary he 
 proved to be one of the most petulant, cross-grained, 
 ill-natured beasts in all Andalusia. I had made as 
 gross a blunder as one would often do who should 
 go about the world a character-reading with Lava- 
 ter for his guide, saying to himself, after the fashion 
 of that famous physiognomist," This man has mascu- 
 line energy plainly written on the broad and bony 
 root of his nose ; such an one is an ass, for you see 
 his frontal sinus terminates in a point ; and as for 
 that other's mouth, it will not say a great deal, but 
 all it does say will be very much to the purpose." 
 
 The testy Carbonero soon gave me assurance 
 
THE DEPARTURE. 11 
 
 that the physiognomy of a mule may be as deceitful 
 as a man's. No sooner had I gathered up the rude 
 reins of rope, and planted one foot in the broad 
 Moorish stirrup, than he curled his upper lip spite- 
 fully, flung away with a sideling motion, kicked the 
 white horse with the holsters, snapped at the land- 
 lord, and trod on the toes of the guide. After this 
 momentary outpouring of wrath, he instantly re- 
 lapsed into the same meek and melancholy air he 
 had worn so hypocritically before. It was now his 
 master's turn to be splenetic. " Child of the Evil 
 One and son of a strumpet !" exclaimed Don Ma- 
 nuel, as with true Andalusian vivacity he rained up- 
 on the back of the rebellious mule a tempest of 
 blows that might have waked the dead. The poor 
 Collier bore it all with the meekness of a martyr. 
 Saint Lawrence roasting on the gridiron could not 
 have worn an expression of deeper resignation. 
 
 Our party at length got under weigh j and hav- 
 ing passed the limits of the village, we followed the 
 beaten track along the margin of the water. We 
 soon came to the banks of a small stream, which 
 empties its scanty tribute into the bay. Here we 
 were all received on board a clumsy scow, which 
 
12 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 two peasants pushed across with long poles. 
 These men gave us the consolatory intelligence that 
 Jose Maria, the most famous bandit in Andalusia, 
 had been lately seen in the neighbourhood ; and that 
 we should probably have the pleasure of paying tri- 
 bute to this bold Lord of the Highway. Don Ma- 
 nuel shrugged his shoulders at this unwelcome infor- 
 mation, and the guides looked at the priming of 
 their carabines. 
 
 And here, perhaps, I might say a word or two 
 about this Spanish Robin Hood, whose very name 
 is as great a bug-bear to the traveller in those parts 
 as Blue Beard or Bugaboo to the inmates of the 
 nursery. In truth, the stranger who ventures to 
 wander through the beautiful but depopulated land 
 of Andalusia, hears the exploits of Jose Maria made 
 the theme of many an exaggerated tale by the 
 muleteers, and often by night his excited imagina- 
 tion sees the crouching form of the bandit in a bush 
 or rock by the wayside. The short account that I 
 am about to give of him was gathered from various 
 sources, but mostly from the gossip of muleteers 
 and venteros in the south of Spain, the chosen 
 theatre of his boldness and dexterity. 
 
JOSE MARIA. 13 
 
 Jotse Maria is a native of the sunny land of An- 
 dalusia. HeVwas born, as the story goes, of a re- 
 spectable family, and was intended by his parents 
 for the pious walks of ecclesiastical life. For this 
 purpose his boyhood was probably devoted to con- 
 ning over the Latin nouns and verbs, and commit- 
 ting to r&emory scraps from the breviary under the 
 direction of the village curate and the Maestro de 
 Nifios. As the stripling advanced in years, he went 
 to learn theology on a broader scale at the Univer- 
 sity of G mnada, where he soon gave evidence that 
 he was not sent into the world to chant aves and 
 pater-nosters. A young Granadina, it seems, here 
 caught the eye of the beardless theologian. I am 
 sorry I cannot describe who or what this syren was 
 that beguiled poor Jose Maria from the sobriety of 
 his calling; but, reader, if you have ever wandered 
 in the long-lost kingdom of the Moors, to say she 
 was a Granadina is as much as to tell you that she 
 was a bewitching brunette with jet black eyes, a pert 
 little foot, and a luxurious grace in her carriage that 
 might turn the head of a mathematician. Poor 
 Jose Maria was caught one night by her father at 
 the teet of this fair one ; a scene ensued ; knives 
 2 
 
14 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 were out and wounds were given ; the young theo- 
 logian took to his heels, and dreading the wrath of 
 the civil authority and the penances of the church, 
 fled from Granada. 
 
 The runaway student soon found himself in 'a call- 
 ing more congenial to his daring disposition ; travers- 
 ing the bye-paths of Andalusia as a contrafcandista, 
 with a carabine at his saddle-bow, and &, string of 
 mules laden with bales of smuggled merchandize. 
 Ill luck, however, pursued him in this new vocation ; 
 for one day he was set upon by some adtianeros, or 
 custom-house officers, whom he had probably for- 
 gotten to fee. Jose Maria did not abandon the 
 field until some of the assailants had paid dearly for 
 the prize ; but as he saved nothing from the ren- 
 contre but his life and his escopeta, he became a 
 desperate man, and, by a very natural transition, 
 passed from a smuggler to a bandit. Associates 
 were easily found ; for how could he be at a loss for 
 them among a people ground to the earth by po- 
 verty, and where, moreover, so many men are 
 driven to desperation by political persecution? He 
 soon gathered around him a band of followers, who 
 looked up to him as their chief, from his superior 
 
JOSE MARIA. 15 
 
 boldness, activity, and cunning. He has now, for 
 many years, preyed on the public, and set the go- 
 vernment at defiance. The latter, to be sure, is no 
 troublesome matter, in a country where the police, 
 like the rest of the machine of state, is ill organized ; 
 and where, moreover, you may buy the honesty of 
 its officers as you would buy an ox or an ass. 
 
 Jose Maria, though a bandit, is not a ferocious 
 man. He takes purses it is true, and may occasion- 
 ally inflict a beating on the refractory ; but he sel- 
 dom adds murder to robbery. There is even a 
 dash of chivalry in some of his adventures. Thus, 
 for example, he was scouring the country one day 
 on horseback, with his band at his heels, when they 
 brought the diligence to a stand. " Madam," said 
 the chief to a lady in the berlina, a noble dame from 
 Seville, " we must trouble you for your purse and 
 the keys of your portmanteau." "Here are the 
 keys," said she, trembling with fright ; " but the con- 
 tents of my trunk and purse have all been carried 
 off by Jose Maria." "By Jose Maria!" said the 
 bandit, " why I am the man ; who dares to rob in 
 my name ?" The lady insisted, as well she might ; 
 for a party of robbers, headed by one who had 
 
16 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 usurped the title of the great bandit of Andalusia, 
 had, but a few hours before, plundered the dili- 
 gence, and left the lady without a maravedi. Jose 
 Maria inquired particularly the time and place of 
 the disaster, the appearance of the counterfeit chief 
 and his band, the route he had taken, and the la- 
 dy's own address. He vowed vengeance on the ag- 
 gressor, and assured her she should have back the 
 goods and money, as sure as he was the true Jose 
 Maria and the other a lying caitiff. This promise 
 he faithfully fulfilled. 
 
 On another occasion, Pepe, or el Sefior del Campo, 
 the Lord of the Fields, as he was also mysteriously call- 
 ed among his followers, met a poor man riding on a 
 very fine horse, which he was taking to Ronda Fair. 
 It seems that not long before, his favourite horse had 
 stumbled with him, when, deliberately drawing a 
 pistol, shot him through the head. Being asked by 
 his comrades the cause of this, he said that the horse's 
 stumbling was of no consequence then ; but if he had 
 lived, he might have stumbled with him when the 
 king's troopers were at his heels. Neither was it fit 
 that the horse which had carried the Lord of the 
 Fields should carry a common man. He saw now 
 
A BANDIT'S MORALITY. 17 
 
 that the korse of the old man was what he wanted, 
 and at once appropriated him. The poor fellow, 
 however, touched his heart by his supplications; 
 and he at length gave him even more than his 
 value. He put six ounces of gold into his hand, and 
 bade him go to a certain man in Ronda, who had a 
 fine mule, the price of which was the sum he had 
 given hirn. The man did a& he was told, and thus 
 became the possessor of a mule of greater value even 
 than his favourite horse. The seller, too, was well 
 satisfied to have got his price ; in ounces of gold, too, 
 so convenient for hiding. That night, as he was 
 dreaming of his good fortune, the muzzle of Pepe's 
 gun was placed to his ear, and he was called upon 
 to deliver up the six ounces which he had that day 
 received from an old man for the sale of his mule. 
 Such was the mixture of villainy and wild gene- 
 rosity that marked the character of Jose Maria. 
 
 In person, Jose Maria is described as a little man, 
 sinewy and active, gay in his attire, a bold horse- 
 man, and a dead shot with the escopeta. " Donde 
 pone el ojo, pone la bala," said our Cosario, Manuel ; 
 " Where he fixes his eye, he sends the bullet." It 
 seems, from recent statements in the newspapers, 
 2* 
 
18 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 that Jose Maria has recently added to the trade of 
 bandit the worthier profession of patriot ; and that 
 he has assembled round him, in the mountains of 
 Andalusia, a band of guerrilla warriors, with whom 
 he has planted a tree of liberty. When, alas ! will 
 that tree be planted by purer hands ! when will it 
 take root and bear fruit in the soil of unhappy 
 Spain ! Hitherto its fate has ever been to be hewn 
 down and cast into the fire. 
 
 In addition to what is here stated of Jose Maria, 
 we may now add, at the distance of several vears, that 
 Jose Maria, being hotly pursued, and in expectation 
 of being taken, voluntarily surrendered himself, and 
 
 *+ 
 
 claimed the promised pardon long befo: : e offered to 
 him. He was afterwards employed by the govern- 
 ment to pursue robfcers in Andalusia, having under 
 his command a band of his old comrades, pardoned 
 like himself. Many of his former followers still, 
 however, pursued their lawless life ; and of course 
 vowed vengeance against their traitorous chief, to 
 whom they had ever been so faithful. He was not 
 safe even in the streets of Seville without a guard ; 
 and the opinion, even among honest people, who 
 have a singular sympathy in Spain for bold and con- 
 
19 
 
 sistent rogues, was by no means favourable to 
 him. 
 
 Being one day in pursuit of a party of bandits, he 
 rode up to an isolated venta, to which he had traced 
 them. On describing the individuals, he was told 
 that they were not there. He and his comrades now 
 drew off from the house, and coming to a tree, 
 alighted to eat and refresh themselves under its 
 shade. The robbers, however, were really there ; 
 and one of them stealing out, crept, without being 
 discovered, quite near to the unsuspecting group ; 
 took deliberate aim at Jose Maria as he was drink- 
 ing from a skin bottle, and shot him through the 
 heart. Thus fell Jose Maria. He had lived a hero 
 in the eyes of the Andalusians, and he died a traitor. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 K JOURNEY TO RONDA. 
 
 AFTER crossing the stream we have mentioned, we 
 refreshed ourselves beneath a solitary cork tree with 
 a draught of wine from the leathern bottle of Don 
 Manuel ; we then mounted our nags, the guides lead- 
 
20 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 ing the van on foot. They first conducted us 
 through an open waste, intersected by a great ma- 
 ny diverging tracks, and where an inexperienced 
 traveller would soon have become bewildered and 
 lost. As we advanced into the country they became 
 less numerous, till at length we found ourselves on a 
 solitary bridle path, shut in by cork trees and un- 
 derwood, with here and there an orange grove or a 
 plantation of the dismal olive. The thickets were 
 frequently cheered by the full sweet notes of the 
 nightingale, which sings no where with a better 
 heart than in the sunny land of southern Spain. 
 
 Our guides seemed to keep a good look out among 
 these thickets, as if they supposed the journey not 
 free from danger ; and, in truth, the roads were more 
 insecure just at that period than they had been for 
 a long time previous. 
 
 This had been particularly the case since the clos- 
 ing of the communication between Spain and Gi- 
 braltar, in consequence of the descent of a party of 
 Liberals, at the time of the mutiny in Cadiz and the 
 Isle of Leon. These Liberals had long been col- 
 lected in Gibraltar and the Bay, whence they made 
 a sally, getting possession of the guard at the Neu- 
 
LIBERAL INSURRECTION. 21 
 
 tral Ground, and establishing themselves in the con- 
 vent of Almorayma, in the Sierra of that name, 
 which lies beyond the Boca de Leones, a site famous 
 in Robin Hood adventures. Their movement, 
 though hardy and well executed, was premature. 
 It was the last effort of despairing, starving men, in 
 daily expectation of being driven from a situation 
 already so wretched as theirs in the Bay of Gibral- 
 tar, and who were willing enough to find the death 
 which befel most of them. A rising had been pro- 
 jected at Cadiz and elsewhere, which was to have 
 been simultaneous with the landing of the exiles ; 
 but the only result was the assassination of the 
 Governor of Cadiz, who is accused of having en- 
 gaged in the conspiracy only for the purpose of de- 
 feating it. The exiles, who had thrown themselves 
 into the Sierra, were there cut to pieces by those 
 upon whom they had lavished their money; and 
 the Serranos, or mountaineers, evinced that loyalty 
 to the Throne and the Altar which has always 
 characterized them. This insurrectionary move- 
 ment, while it ruined those who embarked in it, 
 injured the cause of liberty. The lawless character 
 of its chiefs affected the respectability of the Liberals 
 
22 
 
 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 as much as its unhappy result disheartened them. 
 The Spanish government, both alarmed and in- 
 censed by these demonstrations, closed the commu- 
 nication with Gibraltar, and thus increased the 
 number of needy and desperate men in a land al- 
 ways sufficiently supplied with them. Robbery 
 now stalked more boldly than ever through this 
 beautiful but afflicted country. 
 
 Of our three guides, the one who seemed most 
 ambitious of keeping in the van was one Matias, 
 cousin of Manuel. He was an Andalusian, a tall 
 and handsome fellow of some thirty-five years. His 
 frame was sinewy and athletic, and his countenance 
 had an open and lively cast, with an expression of 
 intelligence given to it by his keen hazel eyes. His 
 attire was in the Andalusian fashion ; a jacket of 
 brown cloth, breeches, leathern gaiters that had 
 once been white, but now rusty and the worse for 
 wear, and a low hat with a round crown and a 
 broad brim, turned up'all round and garnished with 
 coarse velvet and beads. His waist was girt with a 
 red sash and a leathern belt, in which he carried the 
 cartridges for his escopeta. It was a rusty old-fa- 
 shioned piece, but still might have done good ser- 
 
OUR GUIDES. 
 
 23 
 
 vice in the hands of Matias, who had learned the 
 use of his weapon in the war against the French. 
 I had some conversation with him about his cam- 
 paigns, and from the enthusiasm with which he re- 
 called these scenes of his boyish days, I doubt not 
 he had been a hardy soldier. On one occasion, after 
 recounting an onslaught in which he had been engag- 
 ed, he exclaimed with a dash of that gasconade 
 which is characteristic of the Andalusian, " Senor, 
 mas me gusta una batalla que un amor " u Sir, a 
 battle has more charms for me than an amour." 
 
 Another of our guides was Juan Capitan, a shed- 
 der of blood in a more peaceful way than Matias, be- 
 ing a cazador or huntsman, who spent half his life 
 roaming over heath and hill, slaying hares and par- 
 tridges. He was a stout short man, but vigorous 
 and active. As for the third escopetero, he was one 
 of those indifferent sort of people who have no cha- 
 racter at all, a circumstance in which he differed 
 greatly from the fourth and last of our escort, to 
 whom fell the task of looking after the baggage and 
 thrashing the mules that carried it. He was a shab- 
 bily clad, vulgar fellow, so ill-favoured in his per- 
 son and petulant in his temper, that a waggish lieu- 
 
24 
 
 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 tenant of our party christened him by the name of Cali- 
 ban, The fellow was always growling and grumbling 
 at the other guides, or thumping the poor beasts with 
 his staff, accompanying the discipline with certain 
 oaths and delicate appellatives always used on such 
 occasions. As for Manuel Franco, our cosario, he was 
 a civil and obliging fellow ; and as he provided as well 
 as he could for our comfort, we heeded but little the re- 
 proaches of his companion Matias, who said he was 
 avaricious and cowardly. Though a married man, 
 with a houseful of children at Algesiras, he devoted 
 himself with great gallantry to the kitchen-maids 
 at the ventas, with whom he seemed a special fa- 
 vourite. 
 
 It was about the hour of mid-day, when, after 
 fording a little stream and watering our beasts, we 
 halted at a poor venta, where there was little to be 
 found but shelter from the noontide heat. While 
 our horses and mules were led away to one end of 
 the large room which answered both as parlour and 
 stable, we sat down at the other, round our stock of 
 provender, which we spread on a napkin upon the 
 earthen floor. The ham and ship's biscuit were 
 flanked by the leathern bottle of wine and a flask 
 
SOLITARY VENTA. 
 
 25 
 
 of brandy ; and though the repast was a rude one, 
 our hungry stomachs gave it a hearty welcome. A 
 bare-footed peasant girl, with blowzy hair and a pair 
 of wild black eyes, supplied us with water from an 
 earthen flagon of a quaint antique fashion, while a 
 couple of half-starved dogs stood anxiously watch- 
 ing each mouthful we ate with a beseeching look, 
 that was occasionally answered by a bit of bisciiit 
 or a scrap of bacon. A whole family of swallows 
 kept fluttering and twittering the while about the 
 rafters of the venta, surprised in their quiet quar- 
 ters by this unusual concourse of men and beasts. 
 
 We paid a few reals to the people of the venta, 
 who in return commended us to God's keeping ; we 
 then resumed our journey, with our escopeteros in 
 advance to serve as videttes. The road gradually be- 
 came more wild and rugged. Now we threaded a 
 path along a hill-side so hemmed in with stunted 
 cork trees and underwood that we were obliged to 
 straggle along in single file : anon we forded a 
 stream with the water up to the bellies of the horses. 
 Here and there, where the path was more open 
 and unbroken with rocks and stones, we urged our 
 nags into a trot, stimulating them with kicks under 
 3 
 
26 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 the flank, or with the pointed end of the Moorish stir- 
 rup. There was enough in the novelty of the scene- 
 ry, and in this unwonted style of journeying, to keep 
 the mind awake ; not to speak of the merriment of 
 a set of gay fellows just let loose from the cramped 
 quarters of the wardroom and steerage, and the stiff 
 etiquette of the quarter-deck, to the elbow-room of 
 these wild mountains and the holiday freedom of the 
 shore. Many a joke was cracked, and many a song 
 sung to beguile the way. Now a derry down stave 
 from some forecastle ditty, and anon a catch from the 
 fandango, or an Andalusian ballad by one of our 
 guides. 
 
 It was nearly sunset, when, after struggling 
 through a deep stream, where we trusted entirely to 
 the sagacity of our beasts, we reached a grove of 
 luxuriant orange trees, which was enlivened with the 
 sweet notes of the nightingale, and whose aroma 
 filled the air with a delicious perfume. Here we 
 found a small farm-house, at which we bought a 
 store of apricots and other fruit for a few cuartos, and 
 rested awhile under the welcome shade of the trees. 
 
 At this place commenced the steep and trouble- 
 some ascent of the bold Sierra, on whose summit is 
 
GAUCIN. 27 
 
 perched the mountain village of Gaucin. The 
 path was so narrow that we were obliged to 
 move in a single file, and so abrupt, that as we 
 wound up in a cork-screw fashion, those in advance 
 might sometimes look down upon those who brought 
 up the rear of the party, immediately below them. 
 
 Half-way up we met a swarthy peasant, with three or 
 
 <i 
 four asses laden with charcoal, that came creeping 
 
 like cats down the hill. We had been warned some 
 time before of their approach by the tinkling of a 
 large bell suspended from the neck of the leader. 
 Our guides interrogated this peasant about the road, 
 and he replied that he had met no suspicious people 
 on the mountain. A very small band could have 
 robbed us as we came up, one by one, and then tum- 
 bled us down the hill-side to complete the entertain- 
 ment. From such ill fortune, however, our good 
 stars protected us. The gray twilight had just given 
 place to the obscurity of night, when, after much 
 twisting and turning, we at length gained the sum- 
 mit of the Sierra, and saw with hearty good will the 
 twinkling lights of the village. As we entered Gau- 
 cin, we found the villagers sitting at the doors of the 
 cottages, inhaling the pleasant evening air ; while 
 
28 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 more than one party of boys and girls were rattling 
 the Castanet or thumbing the guitar. The tramp- 
 ling of our beasts suspended their sport, and brought 
 the whole population to the doors and windows to 
 witness the arrival of the strangers. We drove im- 
 mediately into the wide door of the inn, and untie- 
 ing our pistols from the saddle-bow, committed the 
 jaded beasts to the care of the guides. Manuel 
 then ushered us into the kitchen of the posada, 
 where the wife and daughters of the host were su- 
 perintending a parcel of old-fashioned pipkins that 
 simmered invitingly by the fire. The serving-maid 
 of the inn, a sharp-eyed Andaluza, Margarita by 
 name, was sitting on a stone by the chimney, strip- 
 ping the skin from a hare. She had a mischievous 
 glance of the eye, which made me suspect that, like 
 Maritornes of old. she was fair game for the gallan- 
 try of the muleteers and cosarios. In the opposite 
 corner sat the ventero, demure and motionless, lean- 
 ing his chin on a long staff ; the poor fellow was 
 blind. There were also one or two peasants in the 
 apartment, and a dirty looking soldier, who was 
 going on leave from the fortress at Ceuta to the 
 mountain town of Ronda. The knapsack that lay at 
 
,^ 
 
 JOURNEY RENEWED. 29 
 
 his feet doubtless contained all his worldly gear ; 
 but, poor as he was, he seemed anxious to escape the 
 salteadores, for he asked permission to accompany 
 our party the next day. 
 
 The ventera gave us a humble meal of bread, 
 a salad, a greasy stew of meat and tomatoes, and 
 some of the wine of Gaucin. We were put to sleep 
 on sundry beds and blankets, spread out on the plais- 
 ter floor of the only bed-room of the inn. As our 
 party consisted of nine persons, we were stowed as 
 closely as eggs in a basket ; and to increase the 
 comfort, found ourselves beset by hosts of hun 
 fleas. However, after much tumbling, tossing, 
 commending all the inns of Andalusia to the Wick- 
 ed One, we dropped asleep, and thought no more of 
 worldly ills till the morrow. 
 
 We started from Gaucin at an early hour on the 
 following day. The country through which we 
 passed was thrown into lofty mountains and deep 
 vallies of great fertility. Though the ridges of 
 these mountains were rugged and sterile, their sides 
 were generally cultivated, presenting masses of vine- 
 yard, and dotted with frequent villages. The road 
 now ran along the sides of these mountains, and now 
 3* 
 
30 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 plunged into deep ravines, down which the horses 
 and mules crept with great care ; for the path was 
 frequently strown with loose stones that made the 
 footing any thing but secure. For myself, I found 
 that bestriding a mule gave me a great advantage in 
 these places over my companions, who were more 
 ambitiously mounted. The petulant little Carbone- 
 ro, in descending these break-neck ravines, seemed 
 to forget his spleen, and to be wholly absorbed in 
 picking his down -hill way with the greatest comfort 
 to his rider and himself. His slender, tapering legs 
 and little feet moved with a certain, stealthy, cun- 
 ning precision, never slipping nor making a false 
 step. He would sometimes come to a halt, and scru- 
 tinize the footing before him to ascertain whether it 
 was steady or insecure ; and having chosen his path, 
 go on again without the necessity of encouragement 
 or rebuke. 
 
 After following this wild mountain road for some 
 hours, we came to the little village of Atajate. It 
 was a poverty-stricken place, like all Spanish pue- 
 blos ; its houses plastered with mud or built of 
 rough unhewn stones, had a comfortless, wo-begone 
 air ; and the unwashed and uncombed peasant wo- 
 
ATAJATE. 
 
 31 
 
 men, who peeped at us through the iron-barred win- 
 dows, were in good keeping with the hovels they 
 occupied. We halted at the posada of the place a 
 little while, to have some of the beasts shod at the 
 neighbouring smithy. A group of wild-looking fel- 
 lows, wrapped in dark-coloured cloaks, and with 
 their swarthy visages shaded by the broad-brimmed 
 bonnet of Andalusia, were smoking their paper ci- 
 garillos at the porch ; while the gray-haired hostess 
 sat in the doorway twirling a distaff. The poor old 
 woman looked dull and disheartened, for, as we 
 were presently informed, sorrow had been a recent 
 visitant of her roof. Her husband was returning to 
 the village a few days before, when he was met on 
 the road by a runaway from the presidios or galleys, 
 a fellow familiar with crime. The presidiario want- 
 ed the old man to take charge of his ass, and keep it 
 at the inn till his return. The innkeeper refused to 
 take it, and some altercation ensuing, the wretch 
 drew his knife and stabbed the defenceless old man 
 with several mortal wounds. Some muleteers, who 
 came by a little while afterwards, found him in this 
 wretched plight; they laid him on one of their 
 mules and carried him to Gaucin, where he told the 
 
32 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 story of his quarrel with the presidario, and soon 
 expired. The robber was pursued, but unsuccess- 
 fully, by the police ; who caused the innkeeper to be 
 buried, and levied upon a mule he had to pay the 
 expenses of the justicia. 
 
 Soon after leaving Atajate, a horseman joined our 
 party, who seemed a shopkeeper or contrabandista, 
 or perhaps both. He was a young man, dressed in 
 the Andalusian costume, except that his cloak was 
 of blue cloth instead of brown ; a circumstance 
 which, though seemingly trivial to a stranger, would 
 be better understood by a Spaniard. Gente de capa 
 parda people of the brown cloak would express in 
 Spain the poorer sort of people, such as muleteers 
 and peasants. His horse was a well-looking road- 
 ster, who moved with some spirit though loaded 
 with two stout bales, between which his master sat 
 cross-legged, after the fashion of a tailor or a Turk. 
 His escopeta was suspended from one of the bales, and 
 a little earthen cantine hung at the front of his sad- 
 dle. In this he carried some Holland gin, bought, 
 doubtless, from one of those clumsy Dutch vessels I 
 had seen lying in the bay of Gibraltar. He offered 
 me a draught of it at a spring by the road-side, 
 
ROBBERS. 33 
 
 where we halted to refresh ourselves. I returned 
 his well-meant compliment with two or three Hava- 
 na cigars, which he received with special satisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 A few miles from Atajate, after winding along a 
 sterile, rocky hill, we came to a deep and narrow 
 gorge, so hemmed in by mountains that apparently 
 it had no outlet. The path was so rough that we 
 were obliged to dismount, and so narrow that it be- 
 came necessary to move in a straggling Hue. The 
 ravine was well known by sad experience to the 
 French, for many a bullet was sent with deadly aim 
 among them, whenever they passed this gorge, by 
 the guerrilla men, who hid themselves among the 
 crags which surround it. I had just entered the 
 pass with three or four of my companions, when 
 one of them said in an under-tone, " Get your pis- 
 tols ! here are robbers." Sure enough a party of 
 six or seven fellows, armed with knives and escope- 
 tas, were lying near the path some twenty feet in 
 advance. Matias beckoned to our companions be- 
 hind to come on, and they presently straggled into 
 the gorge one by one. We had all got our pistols 
 from the saddle-bow, and were waiting the issue of 
 
34 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 the adventure, when one of the band advanced 
 towards us without his weapon. He was an active, 
 well-built fellow, with a sharp gray eye, and rather 
 under-sized. He had on an embroidered jacket, 
 breeches, and white leather gaiters ; and a red silk 
 sash round his waist. He touched his hat to us 
 very civilly, and said, " Caballeros, no tengan ustedes 
 cuidado," "Gentlemen, give yourselves na alarm; 
 we are realistas put here to guard the path ; if your 
 worships will have the goodness to give us a little 
 money to buy some wine, we shall be infinitely 
 obliged to you." There was something very suspi- 
 cious in the appearance of these men ; but as the 
 request was a civil one, particularly when we had 
 expected a louder call upon our purses, we gave him 
 a dollar. He then returned to his companions, who 
 had all the time remained motionless on the grass* 
 Meanwhile our whole party had come together; 
 some swore they were bandits, others said they were 
 true men. However, we all agreed to be on the 
 look out till we had passed the ravine, and accord- 
 ingly carried our pistols in readiness, leading our 
 beasts along by the bridle. The soldier from Ceuta, 
 who was in fact a bad looking fellow, and who evi- 
 
ROBBERS. 35 
 
 dently was afraid he might come in for a share of 
 our suspicions, pulled out, with some trepidation, a 
 dirty piece of paper from his pocket, which contain- 
 ed his credentials and leave of absence from the 
 garrison. Though the poor fellow may have been 
 an honest man, this was very far from being the 
 case with the pretended guardians of the road. We 
 found afterwards in Ronda, that they had robbed se- 
 veral people, and our pistols and escopetas were 
 doubtless the only saving clause in our favour. A 
 party of soldiers started from Ronda in pursuit of 
 them two or three days afterwards, but with what 
 success we never learned. It was said in Ronda 
 that their chief was Jose Maria himself. 
 
 We continued to wind along a wild ravine be- 
 tween lofty and rugged hills, till, at length, on emerg- 
 ing from it we came in sight of the village of 
 Ronda. On arriving at the gate we delivered our 
 passports, and also had a short parley with a custom- 
 house officer, whose scruples were quickly satisfied 
 with the gift of a few pesetas. 
 
 After a short halt at the gate of the city, we 
 wound our way through several narrow, antiquated 
 streets, until we at length came to the Inn of the 
 
36 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 Souls. The vestibule was crowded with mules and 
 asses, and a group of peasants, in holiday clothes, 
 who had come to see the Fair. Making our way 
 through them, we reached the kitchen, where the 
 hostess, and several buxom maids, were bustling 
 about, concocting pucheros and olla podrida, for 
 this unwonted concourse of guests. These dishes 
 sent forth a savoury steam quite provoking to the 
 nose and palate, and which increased our desire to 
 share the hospitality of the posada. 
 
 We asked the ventera if we could find rest and re- 
 freshment at the Inn of the Souls for ourselves and 
 beasts ; but were all sadly chop-fallen when informed 
 that the whole house was full, and that such crowds 
 of < forasteros,' or strangers, had come to Ronda, that 
 we should be puzzled to get lodgings elsewhere. 
 
 Having received this uncomfortable assurance, 
 we returned to the porch with the air of disappoint- 
 ed and hungry men, casting backward glances to 
 the pipkins and pots, whose alluring fragrance was 
 all that we were permitted to participate in. As we 
 mounted and rode away, the hostess bade us go 
 with God, and gave us a very superfluous invitation 
 to patronize the Inn of the Souls another time. 
 
RONDA FAIR. ; ... ;V 37 
 
 when we should be free to dispose of the whole po- 
 sada. 
 
 After straggling about the town for some time 
 with weary limbs and empty stomachs, Manuel at 
 last found us accommodations in a private house 
 near the Plaza de Toros. Our host was a hand- 
 some black-eyed and well-whiskered Andalusian, 
 gaily attired in majo costume. His dress showed 
 very advantageously a neat figure, which he himself 
 seemed fully to appreciate. Vanity was not the on- 
 ly foible of this gallant Andalusian : supposing us 
 to be Ingleses, or Englishmen, who pay always like 
 great folks, he made an exorbitant demand for his 
 hospitality. Hereupon a parley ensued, in which 
 he said very ingenuously that it was always customa- 
 ry to charge foreigners more. " It is a bad custom," 
 said our spokesman. " Well," said the Andalusian, 
 shrugging his shoulders, " ustedes tienen sus cos- 
 tumbres y nosotros los nuestros" " your country- 
 men have their usages, we have ours." However, 
 the remonstrance brought him to about one half of 
 his first demand. These preliminaries settled, we 
 left to Don Manuel the details of the negotiation, 
 the arrangement of our meals, the style of the, 
 
 4 
 
38 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 puchero for the guides, and the rations of barley for 
 the cattle. 
 
 The streets and suburbs of Ronda offered at this 
 time a bustling and gay spectacle. Every body was 
 in motion, and every body in their holiday clothes. 
 There were hale, bright-eyed peasant women, with 
 roses in their coal-black hair, their husbands and lov- 
 ers escorting them, attired in the jaunty garb of their 
 country ; crowds of donkeys, laden with fruits and 
 vegetables, or hid under sooty bags of charcoal; 
 strolling musicians, who trolled the love songs of 
 the warm land of Andalusia to the rude accom- 
 paniment of a guitar ; swarthy gypsies, carrying 
 about for sale, paper, fans, and other two-penny 
 wares ; soldiers off duty, with their clothes cleanly 
 brushed, fresh blacking on their shoes, and fresh 
 pipe clay on their belts ; priests, in their huge black 
 hats, and sombre, capeless cloaks ; and lastly, friars, in 
 ample robes of white flannel : such was the mot- 
 ley crowd that thronged the old-fashioned streets of 
 Ronda, reviving it for three days from the dullness 
 of a whole year of monotony. 
 
 On the outskirts of the town were farmers and 
 peasants, with the live stock which they had brought 
 
RONDA FAIR. 
 
 39 
 
 to market, stout cattle of the beautiful and vigo- 
 rous breed of Andalusia ; woolly merinos that had 
 been reared among the wild hills of the Sierrania ; 
 and rough, wild looking hogs, attended by swine- 
 herds as uncivilized as themselves, attired in gar- 
 ments of sheep-skin with the fleece worn outwards 
 after the fashion of Robinson Crusoe. They were 
 equipped with a cow's horn to call together their 
 grunting herds, and a long staff to punish or com- 
 pel the refractory. Many spirited horses were also 
 to be seen here, which their owners, to display their 
 mettle, were spurring about the field or reining into 
 impatience by means of powerful bits. 
 
 During the entire three days of the fair, Ronda 
 was a mixed scene of the bustle of business and the 
 mirth of a holiday revel. Besides the ignoble crowd 
 of blind fiddlers, guitarristas, and mountebanks, the 
 little town was honoured by the -presence of a com- 
 pany of strolling players, who entertained the Ron- 
 danians and the wondering mountaineers with 
 nightly exhibitions, at the moderate price of twelve 
 cuartos a ticket. The play-bill issued by these 
 worthies was as grandiloquent as the annunciation 
 of a Corrida de Toros at Madrid, although not quite 
 
40 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 as well borne out by the performance. To com- 
 plete the happiness of the people, the Amphitheatre 
 of the Bull-fight was opened ; and six fierce and 
 stately bulls, reared on the wild mountains of the 
 Sierrania of Ronda, were tortured and slain. 
 
 To myself, as a stranger, Ronda offered other at- 
 tractions in addition to the animating scenes of the 
 Fair and the heart-stirring though cruel sports of 
 the arena. The site of the city is singularly ro- 
 mantic. It stands on a lofty eminence, and a moun- 
 tain stream runs directly through it at the bottom of 
 a frightful chasm, which one grows dizzy by gaz- 
 ing into, so profound and headlong is the descent. 
 The stream, after passing through the town by this 
 strange channel, cleft through the solid rocks many 
 hundred feet in depth, winds round the side of 
 Ronda. You may thus,- after seeing it from the 
 bridge rushing impetuously a wild and foaming tor- 
 rent through the chasm of the Tajo, take another 
 view of it from the walk of the Alameda, as it flows 
 with lost violence a thousand feet beneath you. 
 This Alameda is a lovely spot ; and I well remem- 
 ber the feelings of blended enthusiasm and melan- 
 choly with which, by a fine moonlight, I wandered 
 
JOURNEY TO GRANADA. 41 
 
 along its quiet walks, pausing at intervals to listen 
 to the mellow notes which the nightingale poured 
 forth from the thick foliage of the trees, or to gaze 
 from the railing along the edge of the precipice into 
 the fearful abyss below. The hour, the soft and pen- 
 sive light of the moon, the singular mixture of the wild 
 and the beautiful in the surrounding scenery, all com- 
 bined to awaken in me a train of feeling, a some- 
 thing compounded of the joys, the sorrows, the en- 
 dearments of the past, which every one perhaps, 
 under similar circumstances, has sometimes felt; 
 but which is too deep, and at the same time too in- 
 definite, to be described. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 JOURNEY TO GRANADA. 
 
 I CONFESS I felt very miserable when the morn- 
 ing arrived on which I was to take leave of my kind 
 friends from the frigate to pursue my journey with 
 strangers. I had bought a horse the day before, 
 and entrusted him to the care of Manuel our guide, 
 4* 
 
44 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 with orders to feed the beast well, and have him 
 saddled by half past two in the morning. At that 
 hour I was awakened by some one shaking my el- 
 bow, and starting up from the bed and rubbing my 
 eyes, I recognized the familiar features of our co- 
 sario. He had come to inform me that the hour 
 appointed for the departure of the cavalcade for 
 Granada was approaching. In Spain, as the dis- 
 creet reader may suppose, it is very desirable to tra- 
 vel in large parties ; for such is the abundance of 
 robbers, that a solitary traveller is very apt to lose 
 his baggage and money, and perhaps get a sound 
 drubbing in the bargain. For this reason, which 
 the Spaniards fully appreciate, people going in the 
 same direction cluster together like sheep when the 
 wolves are at hand. 
 
 Hurrying on my clothes, I left the chamber, where 
 my kind-hearted naval companions remained stretch- 
 ed out on straw pallets spread upon the plaister 
 floor. The blankets and bed covering being kicked 
 about in grotesque confusion, showed that they must 
 have been sorely beset by the fleas. Descending to 
 the antesala or vestibule, I found there a soldier 
 and two or three shabby fellows in the common cos- 
 
JOURNEY TO GRANADA. 43 
 
 tume of the country, who having probably been up 
 all night at the gambling table kept in the adjoin- 
 ing room, were now consoling themselves for their 
 losses with a paper cigarillo. Manuel presently 
 brought my horse from an under-ground stable be- 
 neath the house, and leading him into the antesala, 
 adjusted the heavy Moorish saddle and a clumsy 
 bridle, with a bit some eight inches long. So power- 
 ful a curb was quite thrown away upon the meek 
 and inoffensive animal, who was much more dis- 
 posed to stand still than to run away. 
 
 After winding my way through the dark and 
 narrow streets of Ronda, and gaining a little emi- 
 nence in the suburbs of the town, which had been 
 appointed for our rendezvous, I found assembled a 
 company of about eighty horsemen, most of them 
 well mounted on spirited horses of the Andalusian 
 breed, and many carrying " escopetas" or carabines 
 slung at the backs of their saddles. I never saw so 
 picturesque a group. The common dress of this 
 part of the country is a beautiful costume. The 
 Andalusian wears a jacket of cloth fancifully em- 
 broidered, and adorned with a profusion of rich but- 
 tons, with flashy breeches to correspond ; gaiters of 
 
44 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 unstained leather, with abundance of dangling loops, 
 which are left unfastened at the calf ; a handkerchief 
 of some gay colour round the neck, and a rich sash 
 round the waist, in which is stuck the Spanish knife, 
 which, besides its ordinary use, sometimes answers 
 a deadlier purpose. Besides the sash, the Andalu- 
 sian, when he carries his "escopeta," also wears 
 round his waist a leather belt, in which he keeps his 
 cartridges. A handkerchief of some gaudy pattern, 
 with the ends floating loose behind, is often worn 
 beneath the sombrero, a low crowned hat with the 
 brim turned up all round, and gaily trimmed with 
 beads and velvet. These people are almost uni- 
 versally well formed, and have a graceful and even 
 gentleman-like carriage, which is set off to great 
 advantage by their beautiful costume. 
 
 Such was the dress and appearance of most of 
 the horsemen whom I found prepared to depart 
 from Ronda; and when I measured with a hasty 
 glance their numbers and determined bearing, I 
 thought the robbers must be very bold if they at- 
 tempted to molest us. Of this, however, there seem- 
 ed to be some chance ; for the name of Jose Maria, 
 the famous bandit, was frequently mentioned in an 
 
JOURNEY TO GRANADA. 45 
 
 under-tone ; and the rumour was going round among 
 the party that a number of people who started the 
 day before for Malaga, had been attacked and plun- 
 dered. 
 
 The sky in the east was streaked with a gray 
 light, which announced the approach of day, when 
 our party began to move. Our road, or rather path, 
 led over an open heath ; for in Spain, as in France, 
 and I believe many other parts of Europe, there are 
 in general no fences to separate one man's land 
 from another's, or the public highway from indi- 
 vidual property. As we receded from the town the 
 marks of cultivation became less evident, a circum- 
 stance attributable to the insecurity of property and 
 the badness of the police. For very long distances 
 we passed on without seeing a house or cultivated 
 ground ; but occasionally meeting flocks of sheep 
 and mares, which were guarded by wild-looking fel- 
 lows, with coarse caps, hempen sandals, and sheep- 
 skin jackets, having guns on their shoulders and 
 long knives stuck in their belts. 
 
 After riding some six or eight miles over a wild 
 path, intersected here and there by small rivulets 
 which we forded, for bridges were rare, we came to a 
 
46 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 solitary venta or inn, where we halted to refresh our 
 horses and ourselves. I imitated the example of my 
 companions by slackening the girth of my saddle, 
 and slipping the bridle over the neck of my horse, 
 tying him to an old bone driven into the wall of 
 the venta for that purpose. Then finding my way 
 through groups of beggars, peasants, mules, horses, 
 and asses, into the interior of the inn, which in 
 Spain is the common asylum of man and beast, I 
 found many of our party already engaged in eating 
 such provisions as they had had the forethought to 
 bring with them. Among the rest were two Eng- 
 lishmen, with whom I had formed a sort of ac- 
 quaintance, and who, observing that I had not cal- 
 culated upon the scarcity of a Spanish venta, invited 
 me to share with them a cold chicken and some 
 bread which they were discussing. Hungry and 
 tired, I did not wait for a second invitation, but sit- 
 ting beside them, fell to work on the contents of 
 their alforjas with the best will in the world. 
 
 After an hour's halt we all mounted our horses, 
 and were now reinforced by some twenty dirty sol- 
 diers, who were going to Antiquera to join their regi- 
 ment. These were dispatched in front to see that 
 
ANTIQUERA. 47 
 
 the way was clear of banditti ; while their colonel 
 who, in a cleaner shirt and a better coat would have 
 been a fine-looking fellow, rode with the rest of the 
 party. With so many carabines in our own band, 
 and with the muskets and bayonets of our light in- 
 fantry, who, though a ragged, dirty set, would doubt- 
 less have fought valiantly, it would have been the 
 height of imprudence for the banditti to have attack- 
 ed us. In truth, towards sun-down we reached An- 
 tiquera unharmed. It happened to be a feast day, 
 and many of the inhabitants were walking out, some 
 on the Alameda, a pretty promenade with trees and 
 fountains near the city gate ; others on the road, whi- 
 ther they had come to meet their friends on their 
 return from the fair of Ronda. The girls had roses 
 in their hair, and the boys wreaths of flowers twist- 
 ed round their sombreros. There was an air of ro- 
 mance about this which pleased me much, in spite 
 of hunger and fatigue ; but the Arcadian visions 
 which it excited were presently dispelled by the 
 dirty realities of the posada into which we entered, 
 driving our horses beneath the wide stone portal 
 into the open quadrangle round which the house 
 was built. Having made a frugal supper on bread 
 
 
48 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 and tea, reinforced by a cold ham, we lay down to 
 sleep on beds which had been spread for us on the 
 plaister floor, where, thanks to our fatigue, we were 
 able to bid defiance to all our inconveniences. 
 
 The next morning we resumed our journey with 
 numbers and force much diminished, for we now 
 counted but three carabines and an old pistol, which, 
 like Don Quixote's pasteboard visor, was better cal- 
 culated for show than use ; the lock being so out of 
 order that it was impossible to pull the trigger. 
 However, its owner hung it boldly at the back of his 
 saddle, while the others made an equally conspicu- 
 ous disposition of their guns. 
 
 Not far from Antiquera, we came to the Pena de los 
 Enamorados, from which, as the story goes, two un- 
 fortunate lovers, a Christian youth and a young girl 
 of Granada, had thrown themselves on being closely 
 pursued by the parents of the latter with a troop of 
 Moorish horsemen from that city. As we passed the 
 narrow ravine which is formed by a stream at the 
 foot of the precipitous rock, I confess I was quite as 
 much occupied in peering about among the crags 
 and bushes /dr robbers as in sentimentalizing on the 
 fate of the ill-starred pair. 
 
GRANADA. 49 
 
 These apprehensions luckily were not realized. 
 We rode quietly along all that day and part of the 
 next, halting at intervals where a hospitable tree 
 offered its shade, or a fountain refreshment. We 
 reached the lovely and fertile Yega of Granada at 
 noon-day, descrying at a long distance the white 
 plaistered houses of the city, the rusty towers of the 
 Alhambra, and the bold Sierra Nevada, which filled 
 up the back-ground of the picture, its snow-crowned 
 summit glittering brightly in the sun. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 GRANADA. 
 
 THOUGH the Fonda del Comercio at Granada 
 would be considered a poor hotel in France or Italy, 
 it was remarkably good for a Spanish inn, and quite 
 superior to any thing in the more ambitious capital. 
 In truth, after the sorry posadas, where man and 
 horse had been accommodated on much the same 
 footing during my journey from Algesiras. an inn 
 where one could eat in a different room from the 
 males and asses, and could sleep without being at- 
 
 5 
 
50 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 tacked by hosts of foraging fleas, was something not 
 to be lightly considered. Besides, it was gay and 
 bustling, especially of an afternoon ; for on the lower 
 floor was a pretty cafe in the French style ; and thither, 
 after sleeping the siesta, and when the sloping rays 
 of the sun no longer fired the atmosphere, the beaux 
 and belles of Granada resorted to take ices made 
 with the snow of the silver-topped Sierra Nevada, 
 and drink sherbets of the rich fruits of the Vega. It 
 had, too, its crowded billiard-room, where I have 
 often nestled unobserved in a corner to take a lesson 
 in Spanish manners ; for no where does the Spa- 
 niard unveil the peculiarities of his carriage and cha- 
 racter more than when engaged in some exciting 
 sport. 
 
 I remember being attracted one Sunday morning 
 to this favourite lounging place by a loud and excit- 
 ed conversation, intermingled with those pithy ex- 
 clamations and odd bye-words which would sound 
 very quaint, and not always very delicate, to Eng- 
 lish ears in a translation. The table was surround- 
 ed by a motley group of common-place cits and 
 fierce-looking officers, with long, well curled mus- 
 taches, padded coats, and unwieldy oil-cloth caps, 
 
THE PRIEST AND MAJO. 51 
 
 having swords at their sides and billiard cues in their 
 hands. In the group, too, was an Andalusian majo 
 in the beautiful costume of his country, and a stout 
 priest in a black cassock and knee-breeches, with 
 his ample capeless cloak snugly passed under the 
 right arm and thrown up over the left shoulder, so 
 as to leave free room to handle his billiard cue. His 
 pale shaven crown, which ought to have reddened 
 with shame at being seen there on Sunday, at least 
 during the hour of high mass, stared us unblushingly 
 in the face ; for his huge hat had been laid aside 
 lest it should incommode him in the pious perform- 
 ances of the moment. 
 
 They were playing at the well-known gambling 
 game of pool, and the parties interested were all 
 disputing in the same breath about a stroke that 
 had just been made. Of several players who had 
 started in the game, all were at length vanquish- 
 ed by the superior address of the priest and the 
 majo, who were left champions of the field and 
 solitary competitors for the purse, rich with the 
 pistareens of their hapless comrades. The majo 
 now proposed that they should compromise the 
 matter and divide the spoil, as the Holy Alii- 
 
52 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 ance, a case in point for the pious padre, once 
 made a partition of Poland. " Quanto dinero 
 hay ?" "How much money is there?" said the priest. 
 " Thirty reals," replied the marker, shaking in the 
 air, with his thumb and fore-finger, a little silken 
 purse, through the netting of which the silver peep- 
 ed as temptingly as a pair of Spanish eyes through 
 a mantilla. It was too much for the hungry parson. 
 " Aut Ceesar, aut nihil," he seemed to say, as with a 
 contracted brow and compressed lip he poised his cue, 
 and prepared with great caution to make the stroke, 
 by which, if successful, the entire contents of the 
 purse would be transferred to the capacious sleeve 
 of his cassock. But whether his eagerness had 
 shaken his nerves, or Fortune had determined to 
 punish him for gambling at the hour of high mass, 
 the ball of his adversary rebounded from the jaws of 
 the pocket, and came safely to a halt in the middle 
 of the table. 
 
 It was now the majo's turn. With the prompt- 
 ness of an experienced and confident player, with an 
 Andalusian grace of attitude and a roguish sparkle 
 of anticipated success beaming from his keen black 
 eye, he darted his own ball swiftly upon that of his an- 
 
SQ.UARE OF CAMPILLO. 53 
 
 tagonist ; the rencounter was like the swoop of a mis- 
 chievous hawk on a helpless pigeon. The ball of the 
 priest suddenly disappeared, and the tinkling of a little 
 bell announced that the game was snugly caught in 
 the silken toils of the pocket. The disappointed padre 
 did not wait to seethe reals he had counted for his own 
 delivered to the dextrous majo ; but snatched up his 
 long hat, flirted his cloak indignantly over his shoul- 
 der, and muttering between his teeth " maldita sea 
 la for tuna," hurried away in high dudgeon. 
 
 The hotel was bounded on two sides by an open 
 place called the Plaza de Campillo, or Square of 
 Campillo. It was full of business and bustle from 
 the dawn of day till a late hour of the afternoon ; 
 for here was held the market for vegetables. Long 
 before sunrise the industrious peasants arrived with 
 their mules and asses bearing heavily laden pan- 
 niers of fruit and vegetables. These were very un- 
 ceremoniously deposited on mats of esparto spread 
 on the earth : and here, squatting on the ground in 
 the midst of their merchandize, and protected from 
 the broiling sun by tattered awnings propped by 
 ricketty poles, they kept calling out the live-long 
 day, and singing the praises of the various articles 
 5* 
 
54 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 which they had for sale ; men, women, and children 
 joining in a chorus as amusing as it was discordant, 
 " peas ! peas ! saw you ever so fine 1 lettuce of the 
 best chesnuts fit for the table of princes !" while 
 busy water-carriers swelled the din circulating 
 among the tents, and constantly crying in a long- 
 drawn nasal tone, " agua fresca, agua del avellano, 
 agua fria, aqui viene mejor que la nieve !" " fresh 
 water, cold water, water from the fountain of the 
 hazel nut tree ; here it comes, cooler than the snow !" 
 the latter an exaggeration very common among this 
 humble profession in the imaginative land of Anda- 
 lusia, but which I do not remember to have heard 
 in the sober Castile. 
 
 At another end of the Plaza, apart from the ven- 
 ders of vegetables, were daily assembled a group of 
 sooty colliers, their hands and faces blackened with 
 their dirty ware ; and sellers of lime, who, on the 
 contrary, were powdered white, like so many millers. 
 They were dressed in coarse jackets and breeches 
 of brown cloath, with their sun-burnt and sinewy 
 legs either naked or bound with coarse leathern 
 gaiters, originally white, but brought by time and 
 use to a more dingy hue. Their hands were pro- 
 
SQUARE OP CAMPILLO. OO 
 
 tected by the calafies or broad-brimmed bonnet of An- 
 dalusia ; and the poorest of them were yet not too 
 poor to be cloaked. Some stood higgling with a 
 passing customer, and others were stretched out 
 asleep on the ground, in defiance of the broiling sun, 
 against which they entrenched themselves by dis- 
 appearing entirely beneath their outspread cloaks. 
 As for their mules and asses, those patient com- 
 panions of the Spaniard's toil and privations, some 
 were lying on the ground as stiff and motionless as 
 if death had taken hold of them; while others were 
 standing some on three legs, some on four, with their 
 long ears drooping, and their big solemn heads hang- 
 ing heavily towards the ground, as demure as owls 
 at mid-day. 
 
 I was amusing myself one morning with looking 
 out from my window upon this varied scene in the 
 Plaza de Campillo, when Pedro, an honest Galli- 
 cian, who filled at the inn the indefinite place of 
 valet de chambre, valet de place, cleaner of shoes, 
 and actor of all work, stopped in the midst of brush- 
 ing a coat, and assumed a very sorrowful and con- 
 templative air, as if he had some very bad news to 
 impart to me. " What is the matter, Pedro ?" said 
 
56 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 I, curious to know what distressed him. "Ah! 
 Sefior," said he, " this is a sad day in all Granada, 
 for they are going to have work again for the gar- 
 rote,* in the great square of Elvira ; and she is such 
 a handsome lady too, and so young, that all the 
 world is heart-sick about it." " Will you take me 
 to the place, Pedro '?" " Seiior," said he, " you had 
 better not go, for it may be badly looked upon by 
 the police. Besides, people say in whispers that 
 there will be a tumult, though nobody dares to 
 speak out about it ; and how then will they dare to 
 lift a hand for poor Dona Maria ? So you had bet- 
 ter stay within doors this morning. But if your 
 worship must go," said he, seeing that my curiosity 
 was getting the better of his admonitions, " you have 
 only to cross the Daro, and so follow along with 
 the crowd you will see moving that way." The in- 
 terest which the fact of a young and beautiful wo- 
 man falling a victim to the executioner would ne- 
 cessarily excite, even in the heart of a stranger, 
 
 * The garrote is an instrument of execution, consisting of an 
 upright post with an iron collar attached, which is brought into 
 close contact with the post by means of a lever and screw. The 
 neck of the victim is put into this collar, and then a turn of the le- 
 ver destroys life by instant strangulation. 
 
DONA MARIA. 57 
 
 made me curious to gather the particulars of a sto- 
 ry, which I obtained partly from Pedro and partly 
 from other sources. 
 
 Dofia Maria de Pineda was a native of Spain, 
 and, I believe, of the gay land of Andalusia. Her 
 parentage was respectable, with a tinge .of noble 
 blood ; and nature had endowed her with personal 
 beauty and mental powers above the common stand- 
 ard. She had been married at an early age to an 
 officer in the Spanish army, by whose death she was 
 left a widow, but, as I believe, without children. 
 At the time of his death she numbered but little 
 more than twenty-five years, and was still in the 
 possession of all those graces of spirit and person, 
 which, as found in the native of Andalusia, are ir- 
 resistible. She was living quietly in Granada, un- 
 der the circumstances I have mentioned, when one 
 ill-omened day the justicia, that terror of the op- 
 pressed Spaniard, appeared at the door ; and hav- 
 ing demanded admittance in the name of the Abso- 
 lute King, proceeded to search the house in which 
 she lived, and with peculiar jealousy the apartments 
 which the unfortunate Dona Maria occupied. The 
 scrutiny of these detestable commissioners of despo- 
 
58 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 tism for in Spain what character is so utterly despis- 
 ed and so utterly despicable as that of the Alguazil 
 and the Escribano ? was at first unsuccessful ; but 
 at length they discovered in a closet, in a corner ob- 
 scurely lighted and well suited to the purposes of 
 concealment, an unfinished piece of embroidery, in 
 the form of a pennon or standard, and bearing those 
 three odious colours under which freedom had so 
 recently triumphed in France. This emblem of 
 emancipation was greedily dragged from its hiding- 
 place by the eager justicia. Its being found in her 
 apartment was sufficient to stamp her as a traitor to 
 her king and country ; and the helpless Dona Ma- 
 ria was hurried to prison, and there placed in rigo- 
 rous confinement. 
 
 The reader will probably remember, that about 
 this time, that is, the summer of 1831, there was a 
 great excitement and anxiety on the part of the 
 Spanish government ; for not only had the late suc- 
 cessful struggle in France roused the spirits of the 
 heart-sick friends of liberty in the Peninsula, but 
 overt acts of resistance had been committed by the 
 partisans of Torrijos in the south and of Mina on the 
 northern frontier. The governor, too, had been very 
 
DONA MARIA. 59 
 
 recently assassinated in broad daylight in the streets 
 of Cadiz. These efforts, ill-devised and worse exe- 
 cuted, while they injured the cause they were in- 
 tended to foster, rekindled the slumbering fury of 
 absolutism. Numerous arrests were made in every 
 part of Spain. The slightest whisper of discontent 
 became treason, and suspicion usurped the place of 
 evidence. Fathers were torn from their children, 
 husbands from their wives ; and even the tender sex 
 was included in the anathema, that went forth 
 against all who dared to lisp the word or even think 
 of liberty. 
 
 At such a time no wonder that the phials of the 
 royal wrath should be poured upon the head of one 
 who had dared to harbour the odious tricolour of 
 France. To answer this damning charge Dofia 
 Maria was soon brought to the bar, and the fact of the 
 flag having been found in her apartment being esta- 
 blished, she was condemned to death as guilty of 
 high treason. In countries that have wantonly che- 
 rished free principles, it would have cost a world of 
 trouble to arrive at such a result ; for the public 
 prosecutor would have been put to the idle incon- 
 
 venience of proving some overt act, besides com- 
 
60 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 bating with a jury of the criminal's peers, against 
 the womanish principles that justice should be ad- 
 ministered in mercy, and that innocence should be 
 presumed until guilt be established. But Spanish 
 justice, unembarrassed by those benignant notions 
 by which human life is guarded in other countries, 
 leaps readily over the feeble barriers of common 
 sense and humanity ; and, strong in the spirit of re- 
 venge, thinks only of the outraged rights of absolu- 
 tism, which proscription has sanctioned and the 
 Divinity himself bestowed. It was whispered 
 among the terrified Liberals that the flag had been 
 put in the apartment by the wary hands of the po- 
 lice, 6r, as some would have it, at the instigation of 
 a judicial officer ; who, having, like the foul-hearted 
 Angelo, looked with longing eyes on her beauty and 
 been foiled in his plans, had plotted her ruin. But 
 though it were certain that the police had commit- 
 ted the crime it affected to detect, or that he who 
 was appointed to punish the villany of others was 
 the worst of villains himself, yet who would dare to 
 stain the spotless purity of a Spanish Alguazil, or 
 whisper to the ear of royalty the profligacy of its 
 own delegate ! The fate of Dona Maria was sealed 
 beyond the possibility of redemption. 
 
DONA MARIA. 61 
 
 Convinced of the hopelessness of pardon, she is 
 said to have looked forward to death with quiet for- 
 titude. On the evening before the fatal day which 
 was to conduct her to an ignominious execution, 
 she wrote letters to her dearest relatives and friends, 
 exhorting them to bear the misfortune which await- 
 ed them with the same energy which she herself 
 felt. This duty occupied her till a late hour of the 
 night, when she laid down and slept tranquilly till 
 the morning. When she rose she made her toilette 
 with more than usual care, arranging her hair with 
 her own hands, and adjusting her attire as delibe- 
 rately as if she were not going forth to death, but to 
 some scene of holiday enjoyment. I do not know 
 how she received the exhortations of the priesthood, 
 who in Spain are always at hand to console the last 
 moments of the criminal ; but as religion is deeply 
 implanted in the heart of the Spanish woman,, and, 
 in forms at least, exerts a strange influence over the 
 most profligate of the sex, it is probable some of the 
 last hours of one whose reputation was so spotless 
 were devoted to holy exercise. When the fatal hour 
 of mid-day was tolled from the tower of the cathe- 
 dral, she was taken out of the prison, placed upon 
 
 6 
 
62 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 an ass, as is the custom of the country, and being 
 surrounded by a strong force of foot-soldiers and 
 cavalry, was slowly conducted through the silent 
 and awe-stricken crowd to the fatal place of Elvira. 
 Soon after mid-day, prompted by a curiosity which 
 the reader will doubtless condemn as unfeeling, and 
 which I could with difficulty excuse to myself,! start- 
 ed from the inn alone in quest of the Square of Elvira. 
 The market-place of the Plaza de Campillo was 
 now almost deserted. The hucksters, the carborie- 
 ros, the sellers of lime, and the noisy water-carriers 
 had disappeared ; for in Spain the day of an execu- 
 tion or a bull-fight is taken as a holiday by the la- 
 bouring classes. A very narrow and crooked street, 
 whose straitened dimensions bore strong evidence of 
 Moorish times, presently brought me to the muddy 
 rivulet of the Daro. Here I struck upon the route 
 by which the sorrowful procession had just passed, 
 as was evident from the dejected countenances of 
 the women and children collected in the balconies. 
 So different was the expression on every face from 
 the easy, light-hearted air of the Andalusian, that 
 had I not known the cause of this temporary change, 
 I might have thought that some fearful pestilence 
 
DONA MARIA. 63 
 
 was ravaging the city, or that a hostile army was at 
 its gates. Though quite out of sight of the place of 
 execution, the eyes of all were still turned in that di- 
 rection, as if they expected to see the dying struggle 
 and hear the expiring groans of the condemned. I 
 passed hastily along, half ashamed to be seen going 
 to witness so horrible a tragedy. After turning 
 and winding through many narrow and crooked 
 streets, directed by the scanty current of foot-pas- 
 sengers, I suddenly emerged, through a time-worn 
 arch or portal, upon the large open place known 
 as the Square of Elvira. 
 
 Here was assembled a multitude of people, who 
 were not. however, concentrated in one dense mass, 
 but scattered in groups over different parts of the 
 square. They were, almost without exception, of the 
 lowest orders ; for the better classes had kept withir- 
 their houses, and were scarcely seen in the streets dur- 
 ing the whole morning. There were grave peasants 
 wrapped in their dusty cloaks in defiance of the 
 noonday sun ; swarthy black-haired gipsies, the wo- 
 men holding ragged children by the hand, or infants 
 slung on their backs ; and peasant women from the 
 Vega, dressed in their holiday finery, and with roses 
 
64 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 in their hair, but whose countenances accorded bet- 
 ter with the solemnity of the occasion. These were 
 blended with pale-faced artisans from the city, and 
 the usual materials that constitute the mass at such 
 scenes in all countries. But all were grave and 
 even dejected. Not a word was heard but the dis- 
 tant and almost inaudible chant of a monk on the 
 scaffold. The importunate beggar had ceased to ask 
 for alms, and even the garrulous water-carrier was 
 hushed. 
 
 All eyes were directed to the centre of the square, 
 where a wooden platform had been raised, upon 
 which a young woman was seated ; her dark brown 
 hair was smoothly divided over her pale forehead, and 
 I fancied I could discern, even at the long distance 
 which separated us, the traces of that beauty which 
 Lhad heard so much praised, A friar of the order 
 bf mercy, in white flannel robes, with a girdle of 
 rope, a long rosary, and having the crown of his. 
 head shaven, was seen holding up a cross before her, 
 upon which was nailed the image of the suffering 
 Saviour. Disposed in a hollow square round the 
 platform, to cut off the hope of rescue or escape, a 
 company of foot-soldiers were posted with fixed bay- 
 
DEATH OF DONA MARIA. 65 
 
 onets ; without them was a troop of cavalry, their 
 drawn sabres and steel caps glittering in the sun. I 
 had scarcely passed some two or three minutes in 
 looking round upon this gloomy scene, when a man 
 vulgarly dressed was seen to ascend the platform. 
 It was undoubtedly the executioner. A sensation of 
 heart-sick misery came over me ; for an instant, in- 
 deed, the thought flashed upon me that if a thou- 
 sand, nay, but a hundred, resolute arms could be 
 raised for the rescue, that unfortunate woman might 
 live. But where were they? She had but a few 
 fast fleeting moments left, and her death was as cer- 
 tain as the course of yonder sun towards the moun- 
 tains of Loxa. I turned sadly away, and left the 
 Square of Elvira without daring to look back. 
 Very soon after Dona Maria expired, adding another 
 name to the bloody record of the victims of Abso- 
 lutism. 
 
66 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 GRANADA. 
 
 THE disagreeable sensations which the sad scene 
 of the morning had excited haunted me all day, 
 and I longed for the hour of the Paseo to arrive, 
 that I might seek, in the animation of the Alameda, 
 a relief from the melancholy recollection of that 
 cold-blooded sacrifice. As I passed down the wide 
 street which conducts to the Alameda, I found a 
 number of convicts employed as usual in sprinkling 
 the dusty road with water, which they dipped in 
 buckets from the well-filled gutters on either side of 
 the street; for no city, perhaps, is so abundantly 
 supplied with this luxury of a hot climate as Gra- 
 nada. The Arabs brought the taste for irrigation 
 into the Peninsula ; and this, like many of the cha- 
 racteristics of that peculiar people, was preserved after 
 their expulsion. These convicts wore chains on their 
 legs, and were as unprepossessing in their appear- 
 ance as the worthy compeers of Gines de Pasamonte, 
 who repaid with ingratitude and hard knocks the 
 
THE ALAMEDA. 67 
 
 indiscreet kindness of their liberator Don Quixote. 
 They were lazily watched by one or two soldiers in 
 slovenly uniforms, who seemed quite as intent upon 
 making and smoking their paper cigars as upon the 
 security of their ungracious charge. I often ex- 
 pected to see these hard-looking subjects of Ferdi- 
 nand slipping round a corner, and eloping from his 
 majesty's bed and board, which was hospitably sup- 
 plied them in one of the time-honoured towers of 
 the Alhambra ; an idea which doubtless occasion- 
 ally occurred to themselves, and which, I dare say, 
 they sometimes even put in practice. 
 
 The Granadians, with much good taste, have 
 formed their Alameda or public promenade along 
 the banks of the Genii, a small but pretty stream 
 which skirts the southern side of the city. Its wa- 
 ters, cooled by the melting snow of the Sierra Ne- 
 vada, refresh the air, and impart a healthy verdure 
 to the grass and foliage along its quiet banks. The 
 promenade is composed of three long parallel walks, 
 well shaded by rows of trees, from whose close foli- 
 age is heard the frequent note of the nightingale, 
 that coy songster, who, it has been remarked, de- 
 lights to sing unseen; a proof of his discretion, 
 
68 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 since the excellence of his voice forms so strong a 
 contrast to the homeliness of his person. Three 
 large fountains, one at either end and one at the 
 centre of the main path, throw up jets of water, 
 which fall in scattered spray into the ample basins 
 below, and there flow along the sides of the walks 
 in little paved channels. At frequent intervals stone 
 seats are placed for the accommodation of the weary 
 pedestrians ; and on Sunday, and gala occasions, 
 when a crowd is expected, chairs are provided, 
 which you hire for a quarto, as in the Tuilleries. 
 But where, whether in the charming Tuilleries, or 
 the Porto of romantic Venice, or along the Arno of 
 Florence, or in the Casina of Naples, where, indeed, 
 out of Spain, and where in Spain better than at Gra- 
 nada, can you find the enjoyments of the evening 
 Paseo ? The Spanish woman has been so often and 
 so well described, that I shall not venture to descant 
 upon that greatest attraction of the Alameda, the 
 amiable Granadina. Not, however, that I was in- 
 sensible for what Stoic could be ? to the com- 
 pact and well-rounded proportions of her form, to 
 her neat little foot, to her black eyes, now quiet and 
 languishing, now kindling with sprightliness and 
 
THE ALAMEDA. 69 
 
 light, to the elasticity of her step, to the seducing 
 grace of her motion ; in short, to that bewitching 
 combination of qualities, both of character and per- 
 son, which attract the eye and heart towards the wo- 
 men of Andalusia. 
 
 Yet these syrens of the fan and mantilla were not 
 the only attractions in a walk along the bank of the 
 Genii. There was always a great variety of 
 figures, costumes, and equipages. The gallant 
 Majo, with his jaunty jacket, gayly bedizzened with 
 gilded basket buttons and silk cord, with his red 
 sash, his breeches strung with buttons at either side, 
 his white leathern gaiters with dangling loops, and 
 his graceful sombrero after the fashion of Yandyck, 
 formed a singular contrast with the burly, shuffling 
 priest, with his shaven head, and solemn dress and 
 demeanour. There, too, might be seen scores of 
 fierce-looking officers, with faces half hid with whis- 
 kers and mustaches, wearing belted swords, and 
 coats thickly padded and buttoned to the throat. In- 
 termingled with these were many uninteresting peo- 
 ple in the dull Frank dress, the common attire of the 
 gentleman all over Europe ; besides a goodly num- 
 ber of indefinite looking people, hid to the nose and 
 
70 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 eyes in cloak and Andalusian bonnet. There were 
 also beardless students, with four-cornered caps 
 stuck, as if nailed, on the very backs of their heads, 
 and with flowing cloaks of coarse black cloth, with a 
 red cape or pelerine, having the ends passed over the 
 shoulders and dangling behind. Add to these, self- 
 sufficient corporals and sergeants, with wands and 
 sticks in their hands, badges of their authority ; pri- 
 vates of humbler mien ; ragged gypsy beggars, 
 swarthy as the Ethiopian, with black elf locks un- 
 combed, and skins grimed with dirt, holding in- 
 fants in their arms, which they thrust under your 
 nose to excite compassion and the gift of a cuarto ; 
 and others of the beggarly fraternity, too lazy to go 
 about asking arms, who sit in the bye-corners, gaz- 
 ing listlessly upon the passing crowd, wrapped in 
 dirty blankets or cloaks full of rents and holes, 
 through which the daylight peeps in upon their 
 bodies. While some of this motley concourse walk 
 slowly up and down the smooth walks of the Ala- 
 meda, others, more indolent, lounge on the stone 
 benches, with the close foliage of the trees over 
 head and the running water at their feet, stopping 
 tjie passing aguador to receive the cold draught 
 
THE ALAMEDA. 71 
 
 from the delicious fountain of the Hazel-nut tree 
 with the accustomed portion of sugar-plums, or 
 smoking their paper cigarillos, or pure cigars, ac- 
 cording to the thrift or extravagance of the indivi- 
 dual. Poor children, with earthen pots in their 
 hands, in which a coal of fire is snugly husbanded 
 in a liberal allowance of ashes, hang on the skirts of 
 these parties, to pick up now and then from the 
 smokers a quarto or ochavo. 
 
 While this gay scene is going on within the Ala- 
 meda, on either side the more rich and luxurious are 
 seen passing slowly up and down in long lines of 
 carriages of every shape and fashion, from the 
 dashing modern landau with its spirited Andalusian 
 horses, to the antiquated coach of Gil Bias' time, 
 drawn by mules with jingling bells around their 
 necks, and driven by an old-fashioned postilion in 
 cocked hat, big jack-boots, and long-tailed livery 
 coat bedizzened with tarnished lace ; the whole es- 
 tablishment looking as though it might have figured 
 in the days of Ferdinand and Isabella, or even at 
 some long-forgotten ovation of Caesar or the Cartha- 
 ginian. 
 
 After loitering in this agreeable resort till the eve- 
 
 
72 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 ning hour was announced by the tolling of the bells 
 from church and convent for the vesper prayers, I 
 fell in with the retiring crowd, many of whom di- 
 rected their steps towards the pretty cafe of our Fon- 
 da, or towards the theatre immediately opposite, whi- 
 ther the guard for the evening, with an officer and a 
 little drummer at their head, had just arrived. 
 
 Though the Fonda del Comercio was a tolerably 
 agreeable and comfortable place, I felt the necessity 
 of establishing myself in private" lodgings, where I 
 should constantly have the conversation of Spa- 
 niards, and be enabled to advance myself in the lan- 
 guage. With this motive I applied to an acquaint- 
 ance, who proposed that I should make a trial of 
 the " casa-de-pupilos" or boarding-house, where he 
 was himself domesticated. So, the next morning 
 we started to look at my future lodgings. Our 
 road lay across the busy Plaza de Campillo, and 
 then through the wide street which skirts the Daro, 
 and which presently brought us to an open place 
 called the Puerta Real or royal gate. Here in the 
 olden time might once have been a city gate ; but I 
 looked as vainly for one now, as in that other " lu- 
 cus a non lucendo," the Gate of the Sun, at Madrid. 
 
ANDALUSIAN QUARREL, 73 
 
 This little place or square seemed to belong, by pre- 
 scriptive right, to the peasantry from the Vega, who 
 brought for sale fresh-mown grass, green rye, and 
 other fodder for cattle. It was always filled with 
 these people, and with their mules and asses laden 
 with panniers piled high with this sort of produce. 
 The privileges of the place were, however, divided 
 with certain watermen, who, better to pass in the 
 world than their humble brethren of the Plaza de 
 Campillo and the Alameda, could afford a mule or 
 donkey to carry their jars, which were snugly 
 covered from the sun with leaf-clad boughs from the 
 forest of the Alhambra. 
 
 As we passed through this crowd of loiterers, two 
 of them chanced to fall into a dispute about some 
 trifling matter, which presently kindled into a 
 stormy quarrel, with abundance of high words, ex- 
 travagant oaths, and fiery gesticulations. I looked 
 momentarily to see them pull out their knives and 
 embowel each other ; when suddenly they grasped 
 one another's hands, and went off the best friends in 
 the world to the neighbouring inn of St. Raphael to 
 drown their quarrel in a stoop of wine. This hot- 
 headedness of the Andalusian, which threatens much, 
 
 7 
 
74 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 but presently wears itself out by its own fury without 
 serious results, is much ridiculed by the cooler Casti- 
 lian, who accuses his southern countrymen of cow- 
 ardice, as well as of bragging and irascibility. The 
 satirical and sharp-witted Q,uevedo has a hit at 
 them in the following lines. 
 
 " Calo" el sombrero 
 
 Requiri6 su espada, 
 Mir6 a soslayo, 
 
 Se fu y no dijo nada." 
 
 In passing the g Posada de San Rafael, to which the 
 two loud-toned Andalusians had retreated, we saw at 
 the door a number of muleteers, for whom this place 
 seemed a favourite rendezvous. Some of these wor- 
 thy roadsters were smoking and cracking their jokes ; 
 some were acting the gallant with a buxom maid of 
 the inn ; while three or four others were seated at 
 the door playing cards with great earnestness round 
 an inverted pannier. As we continued on our 
 way, my friend pointed to a rude picture upon 
 the wall of a private dwelling, representing some 
 saint whose name I have forgotten. It was sur- 
 rounded with two-penny tinsel ornaments, had a 
 lamp at the side, which was daily trimmed and lit 
 every evening, and seemed to have the usual reputa- 
 
CASA DE PUPIL08. 75 
 
 tion in the way of miracles ; for several votive offer- 
 ings in wax had been hung up around it by the 
 pious hands of those who had been relieved from 
 disease or danger through the interposition of the 
 saint. These little shrines, erected in the public 
 streets against the walls of the houses, are very com- 
 mon all over Spain ; and Granada has a goodly share 
 of them. 
 
 We presently arrived at the lodgings of my friend, 
 and entered a porch paved with little pebbles dis- 
 posed in mosaic, and forming a rude representation 
 of flowers after the fashion of the Moors. Here I 
 encountered a stout door, well-studded with nails, 
 and having a little window at the top crossed with 
 iron bars, through which the family within might 
 reconnoitre the visitor before trusting him beyond 
 the door-way. On knocking at this sturdy barrier, 
 we were saluted by the shrill treble voice of an old 
 woman, demanding from above " who is it ?" We 
 gave the usual assurance that we were good men 
 and true, when the door was opened by a sudden jirk 
 of the latch, which was effected by a long string 
 fastened at a window in the second story. Entering 
 the house, we found it contained as usual an open 
 
76 SCENES TN SPAIN. 
 
 quadrangle in the centre ; in the middle of which 
 stood a marble basin, which received the water of a 
 little fountain. On the right was a stone staircase 
 leading to the apartments above, while on the left was 
 the entrance to the stable, as I supposed from the 
 munching of the mules within and the jingling of 
 the little bells on their harness. However, without 
 stopping to inquire more particularly into the truth 
 of this conjecture, we ascended the stairs, and enter- 
 ed a large room paved with bricks, and furnished 
 without any regard to ornament, with the exception 
 of two or three rough engravings of the Virgin and 
 Apostles. The windows of the room opened upon 
 iron balconies, in one of which sat the landlady, a 
 round fat little body, as dumpy as a sack of wheat ; 
 who, however she may have once possessed the gra- 
 ces of Andalusian beauty, had long since passed the 
 spring-time of her charms. In her obesity she was 
 an example of a propensity quite common among 
 the Spanish women after a certain age, who, if the 
 Persian monarch's Chief Holder of the Girdle of 
 Beautiful Forms should attempt to span them with 
 his measure, would be generally found to exceed the 
 
DONA JACINTA. 
 
 77 
 
 liberal limits of Asiatic gracefulness.* Dona Jacin- 
 ta received us with a profusion of courteous com- 
 pliments and salutations in due Spanish form. 
 When, at length, after this preliminary skirmish of 
 fine words, we came to the subject of my visit, the 
 matter of board and lodging was speedily arranged, 
 and I retired with her wishes that God might guard 
 me till the evening. 
 
 At the hour of the Oracion or evening prayer, she 
 sent a soldier, who was billeted^on the house, to bring 
 my baggage. I accompanied him to the house ; the 
 door was opened for us, after the usual parley, by a 
 young and pretty, though slovenly Granadian, a 
 maid of all-work to Dona Jacinta. Wishing to in- 
 sinuate myself into the good graces of so important 
 a member of the household, I asked her who gave 
 her those eyes so sparkling and black. " Su majes- 
 tad; !" said she, gravely, pointing upward with her 
 tittle* fore-finger. It seems odd that the expression, 
 
 * Moore, in his Lalla Rookh, says that there was such an officer 
 among the attendants of the king of Persia. His business was at 
 stated periods to measure the ladies of the Haram by a sort of regu- 
 lation girdle, whose limits it was not thought graceful to exceed. If 
 any of them outgrew the standard of shape, they were reduced; by ab- 
 stinence till they came within bounds. As I was not the king of 
 Persia, nor Dona Jacinia one of my Haram, I did act advise the 
 eld woman to put herself on diet. 
 
 7* 
 
78 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 su majestad, his majesty, should be applied indiffe- 
 rently to the Deity and the temporal monarch. 
 Thus, whether Ferdinand be approaching on the 
 Prado, a signal to take off the hat in token of loyalty, 
 or whether the consecrated host be going by, to 
 which every one kneels, in either case you would 
 say, " su majestad viene," his majesty is coming. 
 
 I found Dona Jacinta seated in the balcony, rest- 
 ing from the fatigue of household cares, and in one 
 of her most loquacious moods. She immediately 
 attacked me with a world of questions about the far- 
 off country from which I was a wanderer ; con- 
 cerning which, its customs and institutions, she had 
 the most odd and confused fancies, though in some 
 things near the truth. "Poor Dona Maria," said 
 she, crossing herself and invoking the Virgin ; " had 
 she been there, she would not have suffered death for 
 so light a crime." Then checking herself, as if she 
 had ventured on dangerous and forbidden ground, 
 she turned the conversation to indifferent subjects. 
 The garrulity of this ancient fair one was presently 
 interrupted by the loud martial roll of a drum ; the 
 tambor himself soon appeared, with his top-heavy 
 cap of oil-cloth, and his coat gaudily striped and be- 
 
THE HOST. 79 
 
 dizzened with yellow cotton braid. The martial strut 
 and attire of this noisy votary of Mars was singu- 
 larly contrasted by the procession to which he usher- 
 ed the way. It was composed of friars in flowing 
 robes of white flannel ; their shaven heads exposed, 
 without cowl or hat, to the evening air, and of a mot- 
 ley escort of men and boys carrying long wax ta- 
 pers ; while in the midst walked a priest, bearing, on 
 an embroidered silk napkin, the sacred host or wafer 
 which he was going to administer to some dying 
 person. " Su Majestad !" said Dona Jacinta, drop- 
 ping on her knees in the balcony, an example which 
 I followed ; while the people in the street halted and 
 knelt upon the stones. 
 
 The sound of the drum was scarce lost in the dis- 
 tance, when a group of boys and girls on the opposite 
 side of the street struck up the merry song and dance 
 of the fandango, which they accompanied with the 
 tinkling of a guitar, and the lively rattle of the inspir- 
 ing castanet. These poor but light-hearted urchins 
 were the children of a pains-taking little tailor, who 
 might be seen from dawn till vespers plying his 
 needle and goose with an honest industry, of which 
 his numerous brood fully explained the necessity. 
 
80 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 Even now, though the evening was well advanced, he 
 did not lounge at the porch as is the general wont 
 of the Spaniards in the sultry evenings of sum- 
 mer, but kept plodding on, stitch after stitch and 
 seam after seam, with praiseworthy perseverance. 
 Doubtless, though his industry was unremitting, his 
 gains were scanty ; for he did not count the dandies 
 of Granada among his customers, but practised his 
 art in an humble sphere, making coarse jackets, and 
 velvetine breeches, and sheepskin garments far the 
 peasantry. From time to time, however, he wou-ld 
 pause to cast a contented glance upon the 'well- 
 pleased group in the street, who were too young to 
 care about poverty and other worldly troubles. In 
 the intervals of the dance, the Arion of the party, a 
 stout lad who might have seen some sixteen sum- 
 mers, and had begun to have some inkling of the ten- 
 der sentiment, sang little amorous snatches, some of 
 which he perhaps improvised, a common thing in 
 this imaginative country; whilst the others were 
 doubtless borrowed from the national stock. Now 
 and then, with the assistance of the more practised 
 ear of Dona Jacinta, I could follow the words of the 
 various, couplets : 
 
THE FANDANGO. 81 
 
 " No me mires que miran 
 
 due nos miramos, 
 
 Y en el mirar conocen 
 
 due nos amamos. 
 
 " Me quisiste, me olvidaste 
 
 I me vuelves a querer 
 Zapato que yo desecho, 
 No me lo vuelvo a poner. 
 
 " For esta calle me voy 
 
 Y por la otra, dare la vuelta; 
 La nina que bien me quiere 
 Me tendra la puerta abierta." 
 
 The fandango is one of those accommodating 
 sort of tunes that fit themselves to any vein, gay or 
 plaintive, witty or sentimental, modest or equivocal ; 
 to court a mistress or cheer a horse, 'tis all one 
 with this darling ditty of the Spaniard. As I have 
 just hinted, the words which the lower classes sing 
 to it, though they have almost always some spice of 
 imagination or wit, are not always as morally unex- 
 ceptionable as those trolled forth to the rude accom- 
 paniment of his guitar by the son of the tailor. A 
 propensity to run into gross allusions in singing the 
 fandango or bolero, was indeed a failing in this warm- 
 blooded race as long ago as the time of the sagacious 
 Sancho. The reader may remember, that among 
 
82 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 the discreet ordinances made by that renowned go- 
 vernor of the island of Barataria, was an imposi- 
 tion of the severest penalties on such as should sing 
 immodest and loose songs, be it by night or by day. 
 When I grew weary of the dance and song of the 
 tailor's children, and found that even the conversa- 
 tion of the garrulous Dona Jacinta was no charm 
 against drowsiness, I requested her to show me to 
 my chamber. She accordingly led the way through 
 several apartments, till we at length arrived at the 
 tile-floored chamber destined for her new guest. 
 Here she installed me with a profusion of Spanish 
 compliments, closing, meanwhile, the window that 
 opened upon the balcony, and fastening it with bolt 
 and bar. Not understanding this odd mano3uvre of a 
 hot summer's night, I began to protest against the 
 confinement ; but she insisted upon it, saying that 
 evil-minded people might climb up into the balcony 
 to rob me. This notion was not a mere bug-bear of 
 the old woman's imagination. I recollect one day 
 hearing a fellow-lodger, a man of good nerves, who 
 had served in the army and seen hard service, rating 
 his servant soundly for having left his balcony un- 
 closed after he had retired, vowing by the Holy 
 
THE SERENO. 83 
 
 Virgin of the Rosary that he might have been plun- 
 dered or made away with. Having completed these 
 cautious arrangements, Dona Jacinta left me, saying 
 as she closed the door, "Queusted descanse," "a 
 good rest to you." 
 
 The hour of eleven was presently tolled from the 
 tower of the cathedral, and the sereno or watchman 
 was crying it at the top of his lungs ; " Ave Maria 
 purisima, las once y sereno ;" " Hail Mary most 
 pure, eleven o'clock, and the night is clear." I was 
 told that, in a little village not far from Granada, 
 the watchman, besides the address to the Virgin, adds 
 the loyal exclamation of " Viva el Rey Absolute," 
 " long live the absolute King." However that may 
 be, these words, so obnoxious to liberal ears, are but 
 too familiar to the oppressed Spaniard. I remember 
 seeing them conspicuously painted over the door of 
 a guard-house in Malaga. These pious serenos of 
 Granada patrol the streets through the night, bearing 
 a lantern in one hand and a short steel-pointed pike 
 in the other. They chant the invocation to the 
 Virgin and the hour in a high, distinct voice ; and 
 the effect, when heard in the deserted streets at the 
 dead hour of night, is quite agreeable. 
 
84 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 My slumbers that night were disturbed, however, 
 by a more accomplished musician, who had come to 
 serenade his lady-love in a house hard by. When I 
 heard the clear tones of his manly voice and the 
 tinkling of his guitar, I undid the bolts and bars 
 which Dofia Jacinta had so snugly fastened, and 
 opening the window as quietly as possible, saw a 
 young man standing at a little distance beneath a 
 balcony ; while a slight jar, and a window gently un- 
 closed above, proved that his gallantry was not un- 
 noticed by the fair one to whom it was addressed. 
 He was attired in the gay and beautiful costume of 
 the Andalusian Majo, and sang a tune then in great 
 vogue to the delicate accompaniment of his guitar, 
 which was suspended by a ribbon over his shoulder. 
 He probably was not aware that, in a balcony so 
 near him, a stranger was eaves-dropping to those 
 notes which he poured forth so feelingly; and 
 doubtless supposed that he was only seen by the 
 black eyes of his mistress, and by the chaste moon 
 that looked quietly down upon him. The song was 
 in a plaintive vein, and ran as follows : 
 
 " Lejos de ti, no hay dicha con qui pueda 
 Tranquilizar mi amante corazon, 
 Y el solo bien que a un misero le resta 
 Es el placer de su infeliz pasion." 
 
FELLOW-LODGERS. 85 
 
 " Dulce pesar que a lagrimas excita 
 Al recordar los gozos del placer 
 Gluando el amor mis lagrimas excita 
 Lloran y amares-solo mi placer." 
 
 In the course of the next day I broke the ice of 
 acquaintance with my fellow-lodgers, whom I found, 
 though plain and unpolished, yet kind people, and 
 possessing that politeness of the heart which is 
 worth so much more intrinsically than the varnish- 
 ed surface of high breeding. One of them, a phy- 
 sician, Don Pedro by name, had, in the time of the 
 constitution, been one of the surgeons-in-chief of the 
 Spanish army ; and besides his high rank, had, nomi- 
 nally at least, good pay and emoluments. But 
 when the constitution was overthrown, he was 
 stripped in a twinkling of his ephemeral dignity, 
 stamped with the odious brand of Liberalism, re- 
 strained from the practice of his profession, perse- 
 cuted by the government, and sent hither and thither 
 to reside at the discretion of the police. For a long 
 while he remained in this distressing state of re- 
 straint and inactivity ; in other words, he was an im- 
 purificado, or unpurified, from the horrid crime of 
 loving liberty. When at length he obtained this puri- 
 fication, or washing away of his political sins, he 
 8 
 
86 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 was still excluded from the public service, though 
 graciously permitted to practise his profession as a 
 private individual, residing, however, at such places 
 as the government should dictate. He once showed 
 me the license, headed by the name and high-sound- 
 ing titles of some swelling dignitary of the state, 
 whereby permission was granted for a specified pe- 
 riod to Don Pedro Purgativo to remain in Grana- 
 da, and pursue the occupation of medico or doctor. 
 Though he had suffered severely by this systema- 
 tized oppression, he bore the burden patiently 
 enough ; for he had gone to school to misfortune, 
 and had learned circumspection. It was only when 
 we were alone that he would sometimes break out 
 into bitter murmurings against the iron rod that 
 smote him. He was a man of an intelligent mind, and 
 of much goodness of heart and honesty of purpose. 
 This, indeed, I had occasion to test in my own case ; 
 for, having been attended by him for a few days 
 while indisposed, he declined to charge for his ser- 
 vices, saying, " Amigo, asi no se trata con un ex- 
 trangero," -"My friend, one does not stand upon those 
 terms with .a stranger." It was only by absolutely 
 insisting upon it that I prevailed upon him to .accept 
 a small compensation. 
 
FELLOW-LODGERS. 87 
 
 Another of our lodgers was a merchant of Car- 
 thagena, who had come to Granada for commercial 
 purposes. He was a man of ardent temperament, 
 and thoroughly imbued with liberal notions, for 
 which he was in some measure indebted to a two 
 years' residence in France ; but more, perhaps, to his 
 own shrewd perceptions of right and wrong. He 
 was a ready, though blunt man in conversation ; 
 and, I doubt not, a shrewd hand at driving a bar- 
 gain. There were also two officers of the army ; 
 one an ensign, a quiet Castilian of much grave cour- 
 tesy in his manners, and apparent goodness l of 
 heart. He never talked of political subjects directly ; 
 but I could not help thinking him to be a Liberal at 
 bottom, though fed and paid by the Absolute King. 
 The other officer was a captain ; a shy, reserved 
 man, who was so bewildered with an affair of the 
 heart with a pretty Granadina who lived just oppo- 
 site to us, that apparently he had neither eyes nor 
 ears for his own sex. Dona Jacinta, who was a 
 great gossip, told me he had taken her rooms be- 
 cause the balconies were so near those of his mis- 
 tress, that he might toss a billet-doux into her 
 window, or hold ^a half- whispered parley with her 
 
88 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 when unobserved of an evening. Poor fellow ! 
 This was as near as he could approach her, since 
 the father of his dulcinea frowned on his addresses, 
 and had even proscribed his visits to his lady-love. 
 As usually happens, these obstacles stimulated his 
 passion, as a torrent foams and frets itself most 
 where its career is most obstructed. He seemed de- 
 termined to go on with the matter ; though when I 
 left Granada, he had made no ostensible progress be- 
 yond the daily ogling from the window, and a word 
 now and then of an evening from the balcony. 
 Time seemed to make no impression on the obdu- 
 rate heart of the cross-grained parent. This senti- 
 mental attachment had not, however, prevented him 
 from cultivating the good-will of a certain Maritor- 
 nes of the casa de pupilos, whose blooming cheeks 
 and buxom figure had caught the eye of this son of 
 Mars. But respecting this by-play of his flirtations, 
 I forebore to press inquiry. 
 
 There was also a chaplain in the army, whose 
 only pretensions to godliness were comprised in his 
 title ; and a gay Murcian, a young fellow of very 
 handsome person and mercurial temperament, whom 
 early misfortune had made shrewd and prudent 
 
FELLOW-LODGERS. 89 
 
 without having poisoned his good-humour and hila- 
 rity. Having taken the liberal side in politics at a 
 very youthful age, he had made himself so ob- 
 noxious to the despotic party, that when, after the 
 overthrow of the constitution, they put in the sickle 
 and cut down the harvest, he too was marked as a 
 victim. He had been actually marched out with 
 some other unfortunates to be shot ; when, while he 
 thought but a few moments of life left him, there 
 came a partial remission of punishment, and he was 
 consigned to a prison in Africa. After leading for 
 a long time in his confinement a life of great mise- 
 ry and privation, the period of his imprisonment 
 was curtailed, and he returned once more to Spain, 
 and became a merchant. Though the government 
 had ceased to persecute him, he still felt uneasy and 
 jealous of it. He avoided every thing that could 
 attract the evil eye of the police ; and when he went 
 to cafes and other places of public resort, he would 
 attach himself to some officers of the army whom he 
 knew, that thus being seen with those whose loyalty 
 was stamped on their buttons and blushed in their 
 red cockades, he might himself pass muster as a 
 friend of Ferdinand. Let not the reader condemn 
 8* 
 
90 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 such venial acts of hypocrisy, if he has not seen 
 how uncomfortably the head of a liberal sits on his 
 shoulders in a despotic country. 
 
 To generalize the character of these my fellow- 
 lodgers, whom I have thus attempted to describe in de- 
 tail, I may say that they had that tact and sprightliness 
 of conversation which distinguishes the Spaniard ; 
 that they all treated me with the kindness and at- 
 tention which a stranger is ever sure to receive in 
 Spain ; that they were lovers of liberty, and sighed 
 over their national degradation, and were, to a man, 
 endless smokers of cigarillos. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 THE ALHAMBRA. 
 
 IN the Alhambra, the far-famed palace of the 
 Moors at Granada, lived an old captain of Invalids ; 
 who, besides the command of some twenty or thirty 
 worn-out soldiers, was also invested with the charge 
 of the ruins. This veteran had served a great many 
 years in the army of the Absolute King, and had re- 
 
INVALID CAPTAIN. 91 
 
 ceived his share of the toils and hardships of war. 
 When a stripling of fourteen years, he was wander- 
 ing one afternoon in the streets of Barcelona, where 
 his family lived, when there came by a marching 
 officer, with a drummer and a pack of raw warriors 
 at his heels. Of a sudden the Wicked One, or mayhap 
 his good genius, put it into the boy's head that it 
 was a very fine thing to strut with musket and bayo- 
 net to the sound of the drum. He joined the party 
 forthwith, and without the license of his parents or 
 bidding them farewell, marched off the same day 
 to a neighbouring village. Fortune, after playing 
 him various pranks, delivered him up a prisoner 
 into the hands of those Philistines, the French, 
 against whom his countrymen fought so stoutly in 
 the time of Napoleon. He remained in durance two 
 years, suffering many hardships and privations, 
 until he was taken by the English and sent to 
 London with some other Spanish officers, whence 
 they at last returned to their much loved and long 
 lost Spain. After a protracted service, his fidelity 
 was at last rewarded with a captaincy, and he was 
 sent to spend the remnant of his days in the peace- 
 ful security of the Alhambra. 
 
92 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 The captain had invited me one day to come to 
 breakfast with him at his lodgings in the old Moor- 
 ish tower of the Tribunal, after which he was to be 
 my cicerone in visiting the ruins. This offer I 
 gladly accepted, and retiring to bed, begged Dona 
 Jacinta to call me betimes. The punctual old lady 
 came at sunrise to unbar the sturdy shutters, and let 
 in the light and the fresh breath of the morning. 
 As I have already said, she had stoutly opposed my 
 desire to leave the window open, and thus, though 
 secure from robbery, I was roasted to death by the 
 midsummer heat. To stay my stomach for the 
 morning's walk, she brought with her a cup of cho- 
 colate, a comfortable refreshment often taken by the 
 Spaniards before rising. 
 
 My route to the Alhambra carried me by the rusty 
 convent and church of St. Anthony. By the light 
 of the tall wax tapers that burned at the grand altar, 
 a few devotees might be seen kneeling on the pave- 
 ment at their matin prayers ; while at the porch sat 
 a gray-haired beggar, whose long white beard de- 
 scended to his breast, and whose coarse and tattered 
 cloak was patched with as many colours as the Pa- 
 triarch's tunic. He extended his hat to me as I 
 
PUERTA REAL. 
 
 93 
 
 passed, saying, " Cavalier, give me a little alms for 
 the love of God and the blessed Saint Anthony." 
 So devout a supplication was worth a cuarto to say 
 the least of it. As I dropped one into his hat, he 
 bade me go in a happy hour ; adding, " May God 
 pay you for it, and the Saint of the day !" 
 
 The Puerta Real, through which I presently 
 passed, had not yet assembled its noisy crowd of 
 peasants from the Vega and aguadores from the 
 fountain of the Hazel-nut tree. It was now occu- 
 pied by a herd of goats, with two or three she-asses, 
 attended by a goat-herd, attired in a faded brown 
 cloak, leathern gaiters, and shoes or buskins of pack- 
 thread. These herds are driven about the streets 
 during the morning, stopping to be milked at the 
 doors of their customers ; and in the evening are 
 pastured in the Vega or on the neighbouring hills. 
 The milk of cows is not much used in Spain, and 
 butter is a luxury very little known. The strong 
 oil of the country is employed in its stead, and is the 
 universal sauce which the lower classes use in com- 
 pounding their greasy ollas and pucheros. 
 
 From the Puerta Real I passed through the busy 
 Plaza de Campillo, and thence along several crooked 
 
94 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 streets, some of them so narrow that one might 
 touch the houses on either side with the extended 
 arms. It was the fashion of the Moors to give their 
 streets a very scanty width, in order to exclude as 
 much as possible the scorching rays of the sun. All 
 the Spanish cities, which were originally erected by 
 them, still bear testimony to the Morisco taste in 
 their old quarters ; but none, perhaps, has undergone 
 less change in this particular than Granada. I 
 came, at length, to the street which leads to the gate 
 of the Alhambra. There the houses were very old ; 
 the windows grated with strong iron bars; the doors 
 studded with sturdy nails ; and here and there was 
 a shrine on the wall, with a rude painting of the 
 Madonna, a lamp, and a small iron box below to re- 
 ceive the offerings of devout persons. In this street, 
 too, was a sad, sombre building of dark stone, 
 which, from its general aspect and the strength of 
 the gratings, I at first supposed to be a prison. In 
 truth it was so, though not of the sort I had ima- 
 gined. Here were incarcerated a sisterhood of nuns, 
 whose voices we now heard chanting their matin 
 devotions. An involuntary sadness always came 
 over me when I saw those prisons, not of the per- 
 
THE ALHAMBRA. 95 
 
 son only, but of the mind and the affections. If one 
 could go into every convent, and write down from 
 the lips of the inmates the story of their past and 
 present feelings, what a sad recital it would be 
 of blighted hopes, of smothered affections, of tedious 
 days, and nights spent in watchfulness and tears ; of 
 unhappiness, in short, in many instances the cause, 
 in too many the consequence, of seclusion. 
 
 The gate by which you enter the grounds of the 
 Alhambra, though moss-grown and discoloured by 
 time, is evidently of a much later date than the Al- 
 hambra itself; for its style of architecture, plain 
 and unadorned, is altogether different from the light 
 and fanciful Arabesque. Near it was a fountain, 
 whose water was received into a stone basin. A wa- 
 terman sat beside it, making himself a paper ciga- 
 rillo ; while a little ass, the companion of his 
 labours, cropped the rich grass that skirted the path, 
 being more than half hid under the earthen jars 
 which were placed on his back in a wooden frame 
 covered with newly-gathered leaves. 
 
 The beauty of the spot delighted me. The trees 
 and underwood had a singular freshness and thick- 
 ness of foliage, which they doubtless owed to the 
 
96 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 thousand little veins of water that trickle through 
 the soil, and are at length conveyed away in the 
 conduits of the city, or mingled with the stream 
 of the Genii. The largest of these fountains pours 
 its waters along the path which leads to the Town 
 of the Tribunal, after making a headlong leap 
 down the precipitous bank on which that build- 
 ing stands. We followed the upward course of 
 this bubbling stream till we came to the imposing en- 
 trance of the Tower. Two or three soldiers were 
 sitting there, a part of the little army of my war- 
 worn friend, the Invalid. They informed us we 
 should find El Sefior Capitan in the apartment 
 above, and one of them offered himself as our guide. 
 As we passed through the arched vestibule, he di- 
 rected our attention to a niche in the wall, contain- 
 ing a little shrine, with a taper burning at the foot of 
 it. It was here that Ferdinand and Isabella paused 
 to say the first mass when they made their glorious 
 entrance into Granada amid the sound of clarions, 
 the shouts of the Christian hosts, and all the pride 
 and pomp of Spanish chivalry. Here they returned 
 thanks to the God of the Christians for having 
 taken that beautiful kingdom from the unbeliever, 
 
THE ALHAMBRA. 97 
 
 and delivered it into the hands of the faithful ; Fer- 
 dinand, probably with the quiet formality of his cold 
 and selfish temperament ; Isabella, with the enthusi- 
 asm that formed so delightful a feature of her cha- 
 racter. 
 
 Knocking at the door of the invalid's apartment, 
 we were received by the old captain himself, who 
 saluted us with much cordiality, and with the cus- 
 tomary share of Spanish compliments. His dwell- 
 ing, as may be supposed, was quaint and old fash- 
 ioned enough, the walls being of great thickness, 
 and the windows like the embrasures of a citadel. 
 The furniture was of the plainest kind ; and a small 
 shrine, containing a crucifix and a Madonna, with a 
 thrifty little taper flickering before it, told that the 
 old soldier was not only loyal to the state but true 
 to the church. With an enthusiasm which fami- 
 liarity had not extinguished, he led me to one of the 
 windows of the tower, and opening the lattice, bade 
 me gaze upon the glorious scene beneath. From ;jff 
 this commanding eminence we looked down on r 
 the thickly clustered buildings of the city, the rusty 
 towers of churches and convents, and the lovely 
 Alameda, through the thick foliage of whose trees 
 
 9 
 
98 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 we could here and there catch a glimpse of the 
 waters of the Genii sparkling in the sunshine. 
 Beyond stretched the Yega, or Valley of Granada, 
 covered with a rich and variously coloured vegeta- 
 tion, and bounded in the distance by an amphitheatre 
 of hills ; while the towering Sierra Nevada rose with 
 a lordly grandeur above all the other mountains, his 
 summit crowned with snow as with a diadem of 
 glittering silver. I congratulated the invalid captain 
 in having found, after all his hardships and wander- 
 ings, a quiet asylum for his old age amid scenery so 
 lovely. " Well," said he, "I have certainly some 
 cause to thank God. I have pay enough to furnish 
 my puchero and cigarillo without foraging all day 
 long to lie down at night supperless on the cold 
 ground, as I used to do in the wars. As for the 
 heat of summer, it seldom troubles me amid the foun- 
 tains and foliage of the Alhambra ; a few cuartos 
 worth of charcoal keeps my brasero agoing in win- 
 ter ; and then, Seiior, I can look out all the year 
 round upon that lovely Vega, the like of which I 
 never saw in all my wanderings. No wonder those 
 unbelieving Moors were so sad when our forefathers 
 drove them across the water into Africa." After 
 
THE ALHAMBRA. 
 
 99 
 
 making a comfortable breakfast in the Tower of the 
 Tribunal, entertained by the gossip of the invalid 
 captain about the adventures of his life, as he fought 
 over for my accommodation the various sackings, 
 sieges, skirmishes, and pitched battles in which he had 
 taken part, he conducted me to the palace of the 
 Alhambra and the other remains of the Moriscos. 
 We wandered through the deserted halls, which 
 even now, in their decayed and neglected condition, 
 possess so rare a gracefulness and beauty, and looked 
 forth again on the lovely Vega from the battlements 
 of this palace and strong-hold of the Moorish kings. 
 In the court of the Lions I gathered a few roses, to 
 carry with me to my far-away home as a memento 
 of the most romantic ruin in Europe. They would 
 soon be withered and faded, but as such, would be a 
 better emblem of the decaying Alhambra and the 
 blighted glory of the Moors.* 
 
 After spending several weeks in the mouldering 
 old city of Granada, I at length prepared to bid a 
 
 * I have not attempted to describe the Alhambra, although I 
 passed many delightful hours there during a residence of several 
 weeks at Granada. After reading the beautiful and copious descrip- 
 tions of Irving, I felt that the task would have been as unnecessary 
 as the effort would have been hopeless, 
 
100 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 reluctant farewell to that attractive residence, con- 
 soled, however, in some measure, by the anticipated 
 marvels of Seville ; for, as the proverb tells us, " He 
 that hath not seen Seville, hath not seen a wonder." 
 The jealous Granadina, however, trumps this boast 
 of the Sevillian, exclaiming, with Andalusian 
 warmth, 
 
 " duien no ha visto Granada, 
 No ha visto nada." 
 
 " He that has not seen Granada, has seen nothing." 
 When I came to take leave of the loquacious 
 Dona Jacinta, she poured upon me a shower of bless- 
 ings and commendations to the Holy Virgin ; my 
 fellow-lodgers also, with hearty Spanish sincerity, gave 
 me an embrace after the primitive fashion of their 
 country ; and the gay Murcian joined to his parting 
 adieus the wish that God might send me much good 
 fortune, and above all, good store of pesetas. " Amigo 
 que Dios te de buena fortuna y sobre todo, muchas 
 pesetas !" The black-eyed serving-maid, too, added 
 her pious wishes that I might arrive at Seville with- 
 out novelty, sin novidad ; and, in truth, if prayers 
 to God arid the Virgin could avail to defend me 
 
DON MANUEL. 10.1 
 
 against robbers and bad luck, I was armed at the 
 outset with enough of them to beat off a regiment of 
 salteadores. 
 
 Donning my cloak and Andalusian sombrero, 
 I now took my way by the old convent of the 
 Franciscans to the house of the cosario, who plies 
 each fortnight between Granada and Seville. His 
 name was Don Manual Huete ; a thin, spare man, 
 with a shrewd, sharp visage, whose cunning expres- 
 sion was heightened by a cast in his left eye. This 
 obliquity of vision was in no small degree emblem- 
 atic of his character, for he was prone to jokes and 
 equivoque ; and while his words looked one way, his 
 meaning often squinted another. Though he had 
 Ungracious features, and an awkward, mis-shapen 
 person, Don Manuel, as I afterwards found, was a 
 great favourite with the gentler sex. and a cavalier 
 of no little gallantry. His wife was a fair specimen 
 of his success in that way, in spite of his natural 
 disadvantages, being as handsome a woman as one 
 could see on the paseo, and a notable housewife, if 
 one might judge from the well-ordered appearance 
 of her dwelling. Perhaps, with the practical shrewd- 
 ness of her sex, she may have yielded her charms 
 9* 
 
102 
 
 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 in some degree to the property as well as the person 
 of Don Manuel ; for, in truth, he was a man well to 
 pass in the world, owning several galeras, and a sta- 
 ble full of long-eared mules ; while the silver spoons 
 and substantial ewer that shone on his wife's cup- 
 board, showed that the good man was above the con- 
 dition of a common cosario. 
 
 When I arrived at the dwelling of Don Manuel, 
 I found three large galeras or wagons drawn out 
 before the door, to which the mayorals and men were 
 attaching the mules, seven to each vehicle. These 
 mules were sturdy, well-fed beasts, nearly as tall as 
 an ordinary horse, and much hardier for the road. 
 Their necks were hung with strings of little bells, 
 and their heads adorned with quaint ornaments of 
 red fringe ; for the Spaniard takes as much pride in 
 furnishing his mules gaily as in bedecking his own 
 person with gilt buttons and embroidery. When 
 every thing was in readiness, the master and his men 
 set up a loud whooping and whistling, and many 
 strange gutteral shouts of reproof and command ; for 
 the muleteers have a language which is Hebrew to 
 every one but themselves and their beasts. Then 
 off started the clumsy galeras, while the whole 
 
THE GALERA. 103 
 
 neighbourhood, men, women, and children, came 
 swarming to the doors and balconies to see the train 
 pass. Their hearty calls of " God guard you," and 
 " a good voyage," were heard amid the rattling and 
 creaking of the wheels, the shouts of the drivers, 
 and the ill-natured barking of a fierce black dog 
 who was chained at the end of one of the wagons, 
 and' snarled as snappishly as Diogenes, his brother 
 cynic, at every one that ventured near him. Yet 
 with all this martial and swaggering outside, he was 
 a cowardly cur at bottom, and was fairly driven by a 
 dog of half his size beneath the galera, with tail 
 clapped ingloriously between his legs, and his bully- 
 ing bark exchanged for a cowardly yelping. 
 
 Following on foot with Don Manuel, we presently 
 crossed the little bridge of the Daro, and passed the 
 beautiful Alameda, that prettiest of all paseos. The 
 bare-headed presidarios, with chains on their legs, 
 were sprinkling the walks for the evening prome- 
 nade, while they were guarded, as usual, by two or 
 three lazy soldiers. I paused a moment with a feel- 
 ing of regret to take a last parting view of its rich 
 foliage, its lively fountains, and its long shady walks, 
 now solitary, but which I had so often seen animated 
 
104 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 with gay crowds of those black-eyed fairies of the 
 fan and the mantilla. Then hurrying across a square 
 filled with asses and peasants, and over the bridge 
 of the storied Genii, we came, at the outskirts of the 
 city, to a half ruined fountain, whose inscription was 
 well nigh defaced by time, and which I vainly at- 
 tempted to decipher. This had been appointed as 
 the rendezvous for the passengers of the galeras. 
 
 The galera is nothing more nor less than a large 
 clumsy wagon, without springs, and in all respects 
 of the most homely construction. It has a round 
 top, framed with reeds and covered with mats of 
 esparto. The load is usually packed in bales, and 
 laid along the matted bottom of the wagon ; and 
 upon these the traveller sits, or lies down, as may 
 best suit his convenience. A long-bodied person 
 would naturally prefer a recumbent position; for, 
 as the bulk of the vehicle is filled high with the 
 load, his head would otherwise be brought into un- 
 ceremonious contact with the top of the galera. 
 The reader who has been accustomed to the com- 
 modious cabin of the steamboat, or, haply, has been 
 whirled in his own snug travelling coach on the mac- 
 adamised roads of France or Italy as fast as post- 
 
THE GALERA. 105 
 
 horses and well-feed postillions could carry him, 
 may be surprised that any caballero, or gentleman, 
 who cares a pin for his dignity or comfort, should 
 consent to be dragged along night after night in a 
 wagon, at snail-paced stages of twenty-five or thirty 
 miles a day; nay, he would be utterly astounded 
 that ladies should adopt so strange a conveyance. 
 But the truth is, it is the best to be had, for at 
 Granada diligences and post-coaches are things 
 unknown ; and as for going on horseback with a 
 guide, the chances of robbery are in that way very 
 great. For myself, having no rials to spare, and, 
 above all, no relish for a beating, I chose the galera 
 without hesitation. 
 
 Having ascertained from Don Manuel in which 
 of the wagons I was to go, I mounted by the dri- 
 ver's seat and crept in on all fours. I was very 
 glad to find three or four beds ranged side by side 
 across the galera, each spread with a clean sheet 
 and pillow. Choosing one that suited me best, I 
 stretched myself out upon it, and was congratula- 
 ting myself upon the unexpected comfort of my 
 situation, when I was suddenly dispossessed by the 
 unexpected arrival of my more provident fellow- 
 
106 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 passengers to whom the beds belonged. Having 
 explained my mistake to me with much grace and 
 politeness, and many a "perdone listed, Caballero," 
 I was fain to make a precipitate and chop-fallen re- 
 treat to the extreme end of the galera, where I laid 
 down on the hard bales, making my clothes' bag 
 and cloak a sorry substitute for bed and pillow. 
 
 The next passenger who crawled in was one 
 Don Francisco Mostrador, a worthy shop-keeper of 
 Osuna, who had been to Granada with his son, a 
 well-mannered lad of seventeen, to see the celebra- 
 tion of the feast of Corpus Christi. Released for a 
 little while from the drudgery of the shop, he was 
 in as famous spirits as John Gilpin when setting 
 out for Islington ; and had a world to say about the 
 procession ot the Corpus, and the Paseo, and the 
 gaieties of Granada, which, compared with his own 
 sleepy town, seemed to the simple-minded shopman 
 another Paris. Don Francisco was a little man, 
 with a smooth ruddy face, a mild blue eye, and an 
 open, good-natured countenance ; his figure was 
 rather spare, and with little of that tendency to 
 good condition which his countrymen usually mani- 
 fest when not kept down like the arrieros and 
 
FELLOW-TRAVELLERS. 107 
 
 peasantry by active exercise and short commons. 
 Though from having spent his days in a provincial 
 town at the shop-board, he had seen but little of the 
 great world, and was unsophisticated in morals and 
 manners, he was nevertheless a man of much 
 home-spun discretion, and had a shrewd eye to the 
 main chance. When those troublesome fellows, the 
 French, came, some years ago, to the Peninsula, on 
 the fool's errand of conquering the most stubborn 
 and indomitable race in Europe, Don Francisco, 
 a youth of twenty years, found that the puzzling 
 alternative was offered to him of getting married or 
 going to the wars ; for all the single men were 
 obliged to enlist. Not being of a pugnacious turn, 
 he felt loth to trudge away with knapsack and fire- 
 lock from his native Osuna, with the chance of hard 
 blows and harder fare, but poorly compensated by 
 the ill-paid pittance of a few rials monthly, and 
 that penny-worth of fame which falls to the lot of a 
 private soldier. On the other hand, being a man of 
 prudence, he was somewhat afraid to trust himself, 
 at so early an age, among the unexplored rocks, 
 shoals, and quick-sands of matrimony. While 
 Don Francisco was thus halting between two 
 
108 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 opinions, his mother settled the matter for him; 
 and set herself about the task of looking out a wife 
 for her son among the maidens of Osuna. This was 
 a matter of no great difficulty. Don Francisco, like 
 a dutiful child, submitted to the superior discretion 
 of his mother in the choice both of a profession and 
 helpmate ; and went a wooing instead of going to 
 the wars. Since then he had lived a quiet, indus- 
 trious life, adding to his family and fortune with laud- 
 able perseverance. His wife, by his own account, 
 did great credit to his mother's sagacity, being a 
 notable housewife, loving her lord faithfully, and 
 eschewing those gaieties and gallantries to which 
 many of her sex are prone in the warm land of 
 Andalusia. In short, Don Francisco seemed as 
 happy with his partner as was the world-weary 
 Gil Bias in the embrace of his. 
 
 Next came, hopping in on all fours like a frog 
 when leaping, a slender lad, the shopkeeper's son, 
 who was followed more gravely by an advocate 
 from Malaga, the brother-in-law of the archbishop 
 of Granada, who had been installed a few days before 
 in the noble cathedral of that city, with all the pomp 
 and circumstance of Romish ceremonial. He was 
 
FELLOW-TRAVELLERS. 109 
 
 a shrewd, intelligent man ; who, though of a pro- 
 fession too apt to engross the mind, had ideas be- 
 yond the pandects of Justinian and the edicts of 
 Alonzo the Wise ; and was, moreover, too well ac- 
 quainted with the condition and government of 
 other and happier countries to look with a very sa- 
 tisfied eye on the pitiful fortunes of his own. 
 
 Presently crawled in, with much ado, and with 
 sighs of "Jesus, Maria, que calor," an old woman, 
 who weighed many a good stone, and in whom the 
 physical seemed greatly to preponderate over the 
 moral; for she had a scanty stock of wit and 
 valour. She was as ignorant and garrulous as a 
 child; and a jolt over a pebble would set her to 
 crossing herself and imploring the Virgin. This 
 well-fed dame was a sort of duenna and waiting- 
 maid to the young Sevillana who followed her ; a 
 lady of a very wealthy family from the far-famed 
 city of the Giralda, who had come, under the pro- 
 tection of Don Manuel, to see the Corpus Christi at 
 Granada, and was now returning to her friends. 
 Though she was passably young, and had good 
 eyes, which Spanish women never want, she was 
 rather notable for good-nature than beauty; and 
 10 
 
110 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 was quite eclipsed by the last of our passengers, 
 Dona Gracia. This was as fine a specimen of the 
 Andalusian woman as one could see at mass or 
 paseo. She might have seen some twenty-two 
 summers. Her sparkling eyes, rich olive com- 
 plexion, beautifully rounded form, and well turned 
 little foot, were not to be coldly gazed at. She 
 was going to Portugal to join her husband, who, 
 with a spice of the sooty Moor's besetting sin, 
 would doubtless have found causes enough for 
 jealousy in the admiration that was lavished on 
 his wife, and in her own Andalusian taste for flir- 
 tation. 
 
 Such were my future travelling companions ; 
 the two other galeras were equally well filled. At 
 the front of each wagon sat the mayoral or driver, 
 and a zagal or boy, who from time to time got down 
 to guide the leading mules of the train in difficult 
 places of the road, or to administer a wholesome 
 discipline to the refractory, which he laid on their 
 ribs in good earnest with a stout staff. A carabine 
 slung near the driver's seat intimated the possibility 
 of having to deal with more troublesome subjects. 
 
 While Don Manuel, our cosario, was receiving 
 
THE HIGH-ROAD. 
 
 Ill 
 
 his passengers, and making the necessary prepara- 
 tions to start, we were passed by many other tra- 
 vellers, who, like ourselves, were commencing their 
 journey after the heat of the day had expired. 
 Among them one might see lively black-eyed dames, 
 mounted on mules, and propped with pillows and a 
 sort of chair fastened to the back of the patient 
 beast ; while their husbands escorted them on horse- 
 back, with an escopeta hanging at one side of the 
 saddle and a sabre at the other. I remember one 
 sun-burnt, gray-headed little man, in a ragged, 
 brown cloak, with a paper cigar in his mouth, who 
 was sitting on the very end of a diminutive donkey, 
 with his wife in front of him, whom he held with 
 one arm round her waist, while the other arm 
 grasped a long staff, with which he guided the 
 animal. In truth, this loving pair looked much 
 better able to carry the ass than the poor little ass 
 to carry them; but being no reformer of abuses, 
 like the knight of La Mancha, I did not venture to 
 remonstrate. 
 
 The road was thronged with crowds of people 
 returning to the city after their daily labour. Car- 
 boneros, with sooty hands and faces, driving doleful 
 
112 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 asses loaded with charcoal ; reapers from the Vega 
 with sickles in their hands, and following long 
 trains of mules so completely hid under huge bur- 
 dens of wheat-sheafs, that they seemed like so many 
 walking stacks; gendarmes too, stout athletic fel- 
 lows, whose dress is one of the most showy one 
 sees even in Andalusia. It consists of a blue jacket 
 faced with red, and covered with a profusion of 
 dangling buttons of silver basket-work, breeches 
 adorned in the same way, gaiters of yellow leather, 
 with long loops, the Andalusian sombrero, a cloak 
 worn with a cavalier air over the left shoulder, and a 
 red sash round the waist, which half conceals a long 
 mischievous-looking dagger and a brace of pistols. 
 
 As we receded from the city and entered the 
 lovely and fruitful Vega which surrounds it, I drew 
 up the straw curtain at the back of the galera to 
 gaze regrettingly for the last time on the distant 
 spires of Granada, on its towering cathedral that 
 rose like a giant above the humbler convents and 
 dwellings, on the hill of the Generalife, the silvery 
 summit of the Sierra Nevada, and that Alhambra so 
 famed in history and song. The whole scene was 
 enriched by the mellow light of the setting sun, 
 
PARTING VIEW OF GRANADA. 113 
 
 which, shorn of its noontide splendour, was hasten- 
 ing to hide itself behind the mountains of Loxa. I 
 could still distinguish the bold tower of the Tribu- 
 nal, where, in the days of the forgotten Moriscos, the 
 monarch of Granada sat to dispense justice to his 
 subjects. A little beyond, on the green hill-side, 
 were indistinctly seen the ruins of the gate through 
 which the hapless and sorrowing Boabdil went out 
 for the last time from the palace of his forefathers 
 when driven away by the Christian conquerors. If 
 a wanderer from a far off and unknown land, with- 
 out ties of patriotism, property, or kindred, to bind 
 him to the soil, could feel regret on turning his back 
 on Granada after a few days' sojourn within its 
 walls, what must have been the feelings of the suf- 
 fering Moors when, insulted, persecuted, and plun- 
 dered, they were driven forth from their altars and 
 hearth-stones, a race of houseless outcasts, to seek 
 for a refuge beyond the water on the inhospitable 
 shores of Africa ? Nay, what must have been the 
 poignancy of Boabdil's sorrow when from the moun- 
 tain of El Suspiro the dethroned fugitive stopped 
 to look a last farewell to the land of his birthright, 
 that rich and beautiful kingdom which he had lost 
 10* 
 
114 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 as much by his own irresolute and cowardly councils 
 as by the treachery of his subjects and the unnatural 
 wrongs of his own kindred ? 
 
 Had I been travelling in any other way, my feel- 
 ings would probably have taken a sentimental and 
 saddened tone from the lovely scenery around, and 
 its thousand associations of romance and chivalry 
 and fallen power ; but there was something so 
 odd and farcical in our situation in the galera that 
 sentiment and sadness were quite out of the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 At half a league from Granada we entered the lit- 
 tle village of Armilla, whose quaint houses and ruin- 
 ous walls bespoke a very ancient date. Not so the 
 sparkling eyes of the young girls who were walking 
 on the little Aiameda, nor the merry faces of the chil- 
 dren who were dancing in light-hearted groups here 
 and there to a ding-dong song and the lively rattle 
 of the castanet. As for the older people, they were 
 sitting more quietly at the doors of their houses, 
 some smoking cigars, and others playing at cards, to 
 which the Spaniards are much addicted. Every 
 Spanish pueblo has its swarm of beggars, without 
 which it would look ho more like a Spanish pueblo 
 
NIGHT IN THE GALERA. 115 
 
 than Rome like Rome without its ruins. Armilla 
 was no exception to the general rule. Half-starved 
 children, black with the sun, and with a scanty 
 covering of tatters to apologize for rather than hide 
 their nakedness, came running out from the mud 
 hovels of Armilla, begging alms in the name of 
 Mary the most pure, and all the saints in the ca- 
 lendar. 
 
 By and by the night came on, and the fu 11 orbed 
 moon rising over the dusky mountain which bound- 
 ed the Vega towards the East, shed a sober light on 
 the rude road we were travelling, and the large 
 stubble fields on either side, from which the rich 
 harvest had been recently gathered. Our passen- 
 gers having exhausted their stock of small talk, 
 began very systematically to make their arrange- 
 ments for sleep. Don Francisco drew over his 
 head a long woollen night-cap, and the worthy bro- 
 ther-in-law of the archbishop bound his head with 
 a bandana, while the handsome Granadina took off 
 her large comb and mantilla. Our Sevillana wore 
 a very fine bonnet, with a little garden of artificial 
 flowers ; but as this unwieldy piece of finery kept 
 knocking against the top of the galera, she at last, with 
 
116 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 a reluctant air, took it off, and passing it to me, I hung 
 it by the strings at the back of the wagon, where it 
 dangled unmolested to the very end of our journey. 
 Then we all stretched ourselves out as well as we 
 could, accommodating each other as far as possible 
 in the disposition of our legs, for there was no room 
 to spare. Being rather tired, I wrapped myself in 
 my cloak, and presently fell asleep in spite of the 
 jolting of the wagon, resting perhaps the more 
 soundly that I was at one end of the galera, and the 
 witching Granadina quite away at the other. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 AT day-break I was awakened by a jog on the 
 elbow, and a " buenos dias" from my worthy friend 
 of Osuria, and sitting up, I found the rest of our com- 
 pany all awake, but with very long faces, like your 
 fashionable fair one who returns home from a ball 
 at three in the morning. The merchant was pull- 
 ing off his night-cap and stowing it away in a pair 
 
MORNING IN THE GALERA. 117 
 
 of alforjas ; the brother-in-law of the archbishop 
 was eating a crust of dry bread'; the old wo- 
 man, who had been sea-sick, looked very pale and 
 wo-be-gone ; the Granadina was rubbing her eyes, 
 and the Sevillian was yawning. It was now the 
 dawn of day, streaks of a pale pink light were shoot- 
 ing up above the summit of the mountains of Gra- 
 nada, among which rose conspicuous the snowy top 
 of the Sierra Nevada ; and the birds had begun their 
 matin songs. The country around us was beauti- 
 ful, forming a succession of easy undulating swells, 
 which were bounded in the distance by the bolder 
 irregularities of the mountain barrier which hems 
 in this part of Andalusia. It was about six o'clock 
 when we arrived at the posada where we were to 
 rest and spend the heat of the day. We crawled 
 out one by one from the galera, and entered the inn. 
 Here we found a large open room which occupied 
 the whole width of the house. The floor was paved 
 with small stones ; at one end was the chimney, a 
 huge inverted funnel, under which cooking was 
 performed in little open clay furnaces heated 
 with charcoal, much like those which are used by 
 thrifty housewives in some parts of the United 
 
118 
 
 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 States ; at the other end of the room were large 
 bins filled with barley and other provender for the 
 cattle, and at one side the entrance to a long stable, 
 into which Don Manuel's tired mules were presently 
 driven, passing through the large stone portal and 
 the very uncouth reception-room which I have de- 
 scribed. As I was anxious to find some place where 
 I could lie down, I asked the wife of the " ventero," 
 a gray-headed old woman with a sharp unprepos- 
 sessing countenance, if she could give me a bed-room, 
 but she was too busy with the pots and pans, in 
 which she was preparing our greasy breakfast, to 
 give me any reply. As there was no resource but to 
 shift for myself, I ascended a staircase of heavy ma- 
 son-work, and entered a wide garret or loft, where 
 the daughter of the taciturn hostess was stirring 
 up, with a broom made of the leaf of the palm- 
 tree, an atmosphere of dust and fleas, under pre- 
 tence of preparing the apartment for our reception. 
 There were two little rooms partitioned off from the 
 garret, but these were already in possession of our 
 fair companions, whose beds the mayoral was just 
 bringing in from the galera to spread them on the 
 stone floor. Under these circumstances I made a 
 
THE VENTA. 119 
 
 precipitate retreat from the loft, and determined to 
 make the best of it in the room below. After a 
 while, the ventera, with the assistance of her daugh- 
 ters, spread a little low table with a dirty cloth, and 
 with some rude crockery, putting a knife and a horn 
 spoon here and there ; for it is generally expected that 
 travellers carry their own knives. Then two or 
 three large earthen dishes, filled with various stews, 
 in all of which oil was the grand ingredient, were 
 set upon the table ; and we mustered round the 
 homely fare which my companions, better accustom- 
 ed to it, eat with much gusto, not forgetting, how- 
 ever, first to proffer the usual invitation to the rest of 
 the company. Meanwhile the dogs and chickens of 
 the venta gathered round unasked, to solicit a share 
 in our repast ; and the fleas, less modest, levied their 
 contributions upon us without asking permission. 
 The hostess and her daughters stood by to serve us 
 with water out of a large earthen pitcher, and to 
 attend to our other calls ; and while their backs were 
 turned, a wary cat took advantage of the opportu- 
 nity to approach the frying-pan and lick up the 
 gleanings of an omelet. To complete the comic 
 oddity of the scene, a sleep-walking mule, who had 
 
120 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 escaped from the adjoining stable, came stumbling 
 towards us ; and whether prompted by a curious and 
 observant spirit, or a desire for a crust of bread, kept 
 overlooking our operations, hanging his big solemn 
 head over our shoulders in a way that was truly 
 ludicrous. The breakfast finished, the men took 
 out their tobacco pouches and made their paper 
 cigars, which they presently lighted with the assist- 
 ance of a flint and steel and a piece of spunk, that 
 universal pocket furniture of the Spaniard. 
 
 Having satisfied the cravings of hunger, it was 
 now time to attend to the calls of fatigue, for though 
 I had slept some hours in the wagon, it was any 
 thing else but refreshing. I returned again to the 
 garret, and lay down on a bed which the hostess 
 spread for me on the floor ; but the heat, which beat 
 through the roof, and the active exertions of the 
 bugs and fleas, were so complete an antidote against 
 slumber, that I was again driven below from my 
 inhospitable quarters. The guests of the venta were 
 presently increased by the arrival of a party of 
 reapers, who had come in from the fields to get 
 their dinner. Their bare arms and legs were black 
 with the sun; and their bristling beards, which 
 
A FRUGAL MEAL. 121 
 
 seemed to have forgotten the barber, gave a wild 
 and half-savage cast to their countenances; an 
 effect not at all diminished by their strange dress, 
 which consisted of a coarse shirt, loose trowsers 
 which reached only to the knees, pieces of black 
 sheep-skin, with the wool worn inwards, and tied 
 round the thighs, and sandals made of hemp, rudely 
 fashioned, and bound with strings round the ancle, 
 the foot being only covered on the sole and at the 
 heel and toes. Having saluted the company with a 
 formal " buenos dias, caballeros !" for the humblest 
 Spanish peasant has his share of politeness, they 
 sat down round a little low table, on coarse, 
 wooden stools. The ventera then placed before 
 them a large dish of " gaspacho," which is in uni- 
 versal use in Andalusia, and is composed of water, 
 vinegar, salt, and oil. Each received a large piece 
 of bread, which they broke into the dish ; then 
 they alternately dipped into the gaspacho their 
 horn spoons, waiting a little interval between each 
 mouthful with great gravity. Such was the frugal 
 and temperate dinner of these poor fellows after a 
 hard morning's work. This same food, and nothing 
 more, they eat three times a day. 
 11 
 
 i 
 
122 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 Meanwhile the brother of the archbishop was 
 entertaining his less learned neighbour of Osuna 
 with an eulogy on the rising greatness of the United 
 States, of whose history he knew much more than 
 I should have expected from an untravelled Span- 
 iard. Though he spoke with caution, it was very 
 plain he was a thorough Liberal at bottom; and 
 with the simple expression of "pobrecita Espa- 
 na," and a significant shrug of his shoulders, he 
 told plainly enough his inward sorrow at the con- 
 trasted degradation of his own country. He seem- 
 ed to have been strongly impressed in our favour by 
 a visit on board one of our vessels of war at Mala- 
 ga. Nor was this the only instance in which I 
 have had occasion to remark the important influ- 
 ence of our noble little navy in exalting our na- 
 tional character wherever it unfolds the American 
 flag. The American is in little danger of losing his 
 republican notions by breathing a despotic atmos- 
 phere ; on the contrary, the misery and misrule con- 
 stantly before his eyes, make him thank God more 
 and more every day that he was born a freeman. 
 
 About five in the afternoon the men of the galera, 
 who had stretched themselves out to sleep on some 
 
VEGA OF LOJA. 123 
 
 sacks of barley in a corner of the venta, were roused 
 from their siesta by the attentive Don Manuel, 
 upon which some of them went to the stables to 
 lead out the mules, while others brought down the 
 beds and disposed them in the wagons. Then 
 crawling in as before, and resuming our posts, we 
 got again in motion ; and towards sun-down de- 
 scended into the beautiful vega of Loja, so rich and 
 of such varied fertility that it is said to be capable of 
 producing within itself every necessary of life. As 
 the valley is hemmed in by bold hills, which send 
 down a great many little streams from the springs 
 they contain, the fields never suffer from drought, 
 receiving the refreshing moisture in every part by 
 trenches, according to that admirable system of irri- 
 gation practised by the Moors. The fine herds of 
 mares, and the beautiful cattle grazing in the mea- 
 dows, were a sufficient evidence of the richness of 
 the pasture. As we approached the old town of 
 Loja, much noted in the wars of the Moors and 
 Christians, we passed many groups of bare-legged 
 women, who, with their garments very unceremo- 
 niously tucked up, were washing clothes in a small 
 stream. We entered the city under a ruinous arch, 
 
124 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 and after winding through some narrow, shabby 
 streets, halted at the door of the posada of the Holy 
 Ghost. This is a very odd name for an inn ; but 
 temporal and spiritual things are strangely blend- 
 ed in this most Catholic country, and not always 
 so innocently as in the mere name of a tavern. 
 
 A galera from Malaga had arrived just before us, 
 and the passengers were sitting round the door, 
 among whom I observed a round-faced, portly priest, 
 with his black capa and long hat, and a dirty Capu- 
 chin friar, in a habit of coarse gray cloth tied round 
 the waist with a long knotted cord. The inn did 
 not differ very materially from the one last described. 
 The women of the house were bustling about in a 
 great hurry to prepare the supper of the new-comers ; 
 and in the stable yard I saw two suspicious looking 
 fellows seated beside a dunghill, playing cards on a 
 cloak spread between them. 
 
 Here they gave us a very sorry meal of gaspacho 
 and rice fried in oil, and at nine o'clock we were on 
 the road again by the light of a fine moon. As we 
 passed along through a country which became wild 
 and barren as we advanced, the passengers amused 
 themselves with recounting many uncomfortable 
 
ROBBER TALES. 125 
 
 tales of the robbers of Andalusia, from which, how- 
 ever, it appeared that with the march of civilization 
 they were improving too ; for now-a-days they sel- 
 dom take more than the clothes and money of such 
 ill-starred travellers as fall into their hands ; whereas, 
 in the good old times, they used to dismiss them with 
 a beating, and often left them dead on the scene of 
 their attack. The Granadina, in many high-sound- 
 ing superlatives, and with a profusion of lively ges- 
 ticulation, according to the custom of the Andalu- 
 sians, who, the Castillians say, " lie by the arm's 
 length," related a long story about the robbery of a 
 galera not long since, on the same road we were 
 travelling. They stripped the passengers of all 
 their baggage and pesetas, not sparing an humble 
 friar who carried a well-stocked purse under his 
 coarse flannel tunic ; but they treated them with all 
 the grave politeness due to well-born cavaliers, and 
 did not break a single bone of the whole party, 
 
 At a mile from the old town of Archidona, we 
 found in the morning the humble venta of that name, 
 Here were gathered round the door some thirty or 
 forty wild looking fellows, whom the fertile imagina- 
 tion of Don duixote would have easily converted 
 11* 
 
126 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 into an army of infidel Moors come back again to 
 conquer the country ; but who were in reality nothing 
 more than a squad of honest reapers, the direct 
 descendants indeed of that unfortunate race, who 
 had descended from their mountain homes in the 
 Alpuj arras of Granada to gather in the crops. These 
 poor labourers were ranged in the shade along the 
 long wall of the inn. some of them making their 
 breakfast either on a piece of bread and a bit of 
 cheese, or the more luxurious repast of a greasy stew 
 composed of beans and oil, which they ate from the 
 frying-pan, squatting on the ground around it; 
 others, who had finished their meal, were smoking 
 their little paper cigars, that most favourite of a 
 Spaniard's enjoyments ; while others were stretched 
 out asleep, completely hid in their coarse brown 
 cloaks. Near them stood a group of melancholy 
 asses, the patient companions of their toil, with 
 their fore-legs tied together with a rope of es- 
 parto ; some eating their miserable pittance of cut 
 straw, and others, with drooping heads and a cer- 
 tain grave, contemplative air, gazing demurely on 
 the ground like so many four-legged philosophers 
 engaged in profound speculation. These labourers 
 
ALPUJARRIAN REAPERS. 127 
 
 from the Alpuj arras are a frugal and industrious 
 race, and are said to preserve, more than any other 
 people, the manners and customs of the Moors ; a cir- 
 cumstance probably attributable to their living apart 
 in the mountains, and associating little with the peo- 
 ple in the vallies. As they have the seasons much 
 later in their mountain heights, after they have 
 sown their crops they leave their fields in the 
 charge of their wives and old men, and coming 
 down into the Vega, make a little money by reaping. 
 Descending at first in large bands, they gradually 
 divide themselves into small parties, as they find 
 employment. As the time for their own harvest 
 approaches, they return home with their earnings ; 
 and when they approach their villages, they have 
 a custom of throwing up rockets, to notify their 
 friends, who come out to bid them welcome. My 
 companion, the merchant of Osuna, was once living 
 in a pueblo of the Alpuj arras in the troublesome 
 times of the Constitution, when one night one of 
 these honest labourers approached the village, bear- 
 ing with him, doubtless with a light heart, the 
 money he had gained in an absence of some weeks. 
 As his companions had already returned, his ex- 
 
128 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 peeling family knew, when they saw his rockets 
 darting up in the obscurity of the evening, that it 
 could be no other than their own good Pedro de 
 Alcala who was coming ; and they sallied out with 
 joy to meet him. But, alas ! what was the miserable 
 disappointment of his unhappy wife and children, 
 and the old man his father, to find, just at the out- 
 skirts of the village, the mutilated body of the poor 
 peasant stretched on the ground ! He had just life 
 enough left to recognize them, and tell them he had 
 been waylaid and robbed, and then expired. They 
 bore the body home, and buried it, with the cus- 
 tomary funeral rites, in the little Campo Santo of the 
 village, erecting a wooden cross over the spot where 
 he was murdered, which, perhaps, still points out to 
 the passing traveller, with an inscription painted in 
 rude letters, that " Here they killed Pedro de Al- 
 caU." 
 
 But to return to the venta. At noon the reapers, 
 after sleeping for some hours in the shade of the 
 wall, began to prepare for their departure. First 
 they covered the backs of the borricos with a motley 
 collection of pads, rags, and pieces of blanket, over 
 which they put their packs, either in bundles or in 
 
VENTA OF ARCHIDONA. 129 
 
 straw panniers; all of which they bound tightly 
 with ropes and bands of esparto. Then they hung- 
 at the back of the load an earthen pitcher of water, 
 and untying the rope with which the legs of their 
 beasts were hobbled, they mounted, and went their 
 way in the direction of Granada. 
 
 While this was going on without the galera, a lad 
 of some sixteen years, the son of the merchant of 
 Osuna, was saying his aves and pater nosters within 
 the wagon, having first hung round his neck a lit- 
 tle piece of black cloth with a red heart worked 
 upon it, and another with a little figure of the Virgin, 
 surrounded with an embroidered wreath of flowers:, 
 assisting his memory from time to time with a parch- 
 ment bound breviary with stout brass clasps. 
 
 One woman, unassisted, had to attend to the wants 
 not only of the passengers, but the reapers ; and in- 
 deed she was so bewildered by the burden of house- 
 hold affairs that she was quite at her wit's end, 
 and in a very touchy humour. As I could not eat 
 the food prepared for the rest with the rancid Spanish 
 oil, I, with much looking after her, but at the same 
 time with the circumspection and " suaviter in mo- 
 do" which the state of her temper required, sue- 
 
130 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 ceeded in getting a little rice cooked with toma- 
 toes, a loaf of bread, and a small piece of tough beef 
 about as big as my thumb. This she spread for 
 me on a little table about two feet high, with a plate 
 and a horn spoon. Being somewhat puzzled to eat 
 the meat and cut the loaf of bread with the spoon, I 
 asked fora knife and fork ; fork there was none ; but 
 she brought me a jack-knife, with which I thought I 
 could make shift. But scarcely was I in possession 
 of it, when the stable boy, to whom it belonged, came 
 in to eat his dinner, so I was obliged to surrender it 
 and use my penknife instead. My luxurious re- 
 past was participated by various expecting dogs and 
 cats, whose mute eloquence it was hard to with- 
 stand, and by a brood of young chickens with the 
 parent hen, of whose approach I was first notified 
 by her lighting on my head as she flew heavily over 
 the table. A turkey, too, and a pig, seeing the civil 
 treatment which the rest received, were induced to 
 draw near ; but being attacked by the dogs, they 
 made a precipitate retreat, and stood watching the 
 progress of the repast at a respectful distance. The 
 fields round this venta used in former times to be a 
 noted stand for robbers ; for there once grew here a 
 
ANDALUSIAN BULLS. 131 
 
 great quantity of cork trees, in which these "jump- 
 ers" or " salteadores" hid themselves in ambuscade, 
 and sallied out suddenly upon the unexpecting tra- 
 veller. Behind the venta was a high range of steep 
 and naked rocks, in whose caves and fastnesses they 
 took refuge when pursued. 
 
 In the afternoon a cloud of dust and the tinkling 
 of bells announced the approach of a herd of cattle, 
 which proved to be a drove of oxen for the sham- 
 bles and bulls for the arena of Granada. Any one 
 who has witnessed the ferocity of the bull in the 
 amphitheatre, would naturally wonder how they 
 were ever brought there. Much allowance must 
 be made for the fact that the fury of the animal 
 is greatly increased by artificial means after he is 
 snugly penned in the stalls of the Plaza : but stil) 
 the thing is attended with some trouble and danger. 
 The bulls having been left till the proper age to 
 roam at large in the mountains, the herdsman, 
 when he wants them, drives a number of cows and 
 oxen, having bells round their necks, to the fields 
 where they are grazing ; the bulls presently mingle 
 with them, and then the whole herd is driven along 
 quietly enough, the herdsman being mounted on 
 
132 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 horseback, and carrying a long pike like those used 
 by the picadors, with which, in case of attack, the 
 charge of the bull may be warded off. They are 
 brought into the city and driven into the Plaza at 
 midnight ; but as the bringing in of the bulls, tech- 
 nically called the encierro, is always a great sport to 
 the boys and many grown children, the lateness of 
 the hour does not always prevent the assembling of 
 a crowd of people, who endeavour to excite the fury 
 of the animals and draw them away from the herd 
 by shouting and blowing horns. In the present in- 
 stance, the bulls, though noble, valiant-looking ani- 
 mals, went very quietly forward, and gave no symp- 
 toms of that impetuous ferocity which they were to 
 show on the approaching Sunday in the bloody 
 sports of the arena. 
 
133 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 WHEN the sun was again drawing near the hori- 
 zon, and the noon-tide heat had passed, the usual 
 preparations for starting were made; each resumed 
 his wonted place, which had grown as familiar to us 
 as his station *at quarters to a veteran man-of-war's- 
 man ; and the clumsy galeras, with their long train 
 of mules, got again under weigh. To while away 
 the time, many a story was told by the Lawyer and 
 the Merchant, and even by the lack- wit Duenna ; 
 and many a merry catch trolled forth by the united 
 voices of the party ; now a verse from the fandan- 
 go, and now some Andalusian ballad, the song of the 
 contrabandista to his horse, the mule-driver to his 
 beast, or the lover to his mistress. The light of the 
 moon still enlivened our path, and cheered the soli- 
 tude and desertion of the uncultivated hills and dales 
 through which we slowly pursued our journey. At 
 last the song was silent, the stories of the advocate 
 and shopkeeper were exhausted, and all were wrap- 
 12 
 
134 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 ped in sleep ; little heeding the jolting of the galera, 
 the jostling, and the guttural calls of encouragement 
 or command which the mayoral and his man dealt out 
 continually to their beasts, nor the jingling of the 
 bells as the mules moved slowly along. 
 
 The next morning, before peep of day we found 
 ourselves in the posada of the little village of Ala- 
 meda. The men having led the mules away to 
 their stalls, and given them their allowance of bar- 
 ley, gathered round the huge chimney of the inn, 
 and with Andalusian light-heartedness began crack- 
 ing their quaint jokes and singing odds and ends of 
 ditties, with a vivacity one would not have expected 
 after the fatigue of the night's journey, which many 
 of them had performed almost entirely on foot. 
 
 At noon, when we had discussed a greasy meal of 
 meat, garbanzos and tomatoes, Don Francisco bor- 
 rowed a guitar from the daughter of our host, and 
 having mounted cross-legged on a table, the self- 
 constituted master of ceremonies summoned the 
 rest of the passengers and the men of the galera, 
 who presently fell to dancing the fandango, the hand- 
 some Granadina taking a conspicuous part in this 
 mpromptu entertainment. Meanwhile the advocate 
 
PUEBLO OF ALAMEDA. 135 
 
 found diversion in a keen encounter of wits with 
 a loquacious young Portuguese student fresh from 
 the study of philosophy and logic. This stripling 
 was as prone to disputation as Gil Bias when at the 
 university; and doubtless thought himself as acute a 
 logician as the subtle Doctor Johannes Dunscotus. 
 
 Their argument, like most arguments, ended in 
 leaving either party more obstinately rooted and 
 grounded in his own opinion, each satisfied that he 
 had routed his adversary, and had convinced the by- 
 standers of the truth of his own principles and the 
 superior vigour of his own eloquence. 
 
 Near the inn was a stone fountain, whither, from 
 time to time, the villagers came to water their mules 
 and asses. The houses of this humble pueblo were 
 of two stories high ; the windows were jealously 
 caged in with iron bars ; a wooden cross might be 
 
 seen over most of the doors, and here and there a 
 
 
 
 little shrine with a rude image or painting of the 
 Virgin. 
 
 On leaving Alameda, our road led for a long dis- 
 tance through groves of the olive, an ugly and sad- 
 looking tree, which has very undeservedly got a 
 conspicuous place in the good graces of poets and 
 
136 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 writers of romance. It was a great disappointment 
 when I first saw its stunted trunk, its crooked, strag- 
 gling^ branches, and its dingy foliage ; a deformed 
 dwarf when put in comparison with the growth of 
 northern climes, the sturdy oak, the graceful, wide- 
 spreading elm, the airy locust, or even the unpre- 
 tending apple-tree, which it would be a poetical 
 heresy to name in verse. After the night had set in, 
 we came nigh a small village, noted as the resi- 
 dence of robbers, from whose mud hovels they sally 
 forth in bands on horseback to forage far and near. 
 We had been singing in chorus at the top of our 
 lungs the favourite song of the contrabandista ; 
 but the prudent shopkeeper of Osuna suggested that 
 it would be best to keep silent as we passed through 
 the pueblo. Not, however, that we had any thing 
 to apprehend from these bandits ; for Don Manuel, 
 our cosario, pays tribute to these worthies, as the 
 Baron of Bradwardine did Black Mail to the haughty 
 Vich Ian Vor. Thus his galeras, with their tempt- 
 ing trains of sleek and well-fed mules, and even the 
 pockets and persons of his passengers, were ever al- 
 lowed to pass without molestation. I asked Don 
 Manuel how much toll he paid to the outlaws, but 
 
CITY OF OSUNA. 137 
 
 he did not give me any satisfaction, shrugging his 
 shoulders and pretending not to understand my 
 question. 
 
 At break of day the worthy Don Francisco hailed 
 the approach to his native Osuna ; descrying at a 
 distance the dingy towers of an antiquated church 
 that looks down from a hill upon the city. Anxious 
 to find himself again in the embraces of his wife 
 and at the till of his shop-board, he descended with 
 his son at the gate of the town, and taking his al- 
 forjas under his arm, hastened away, first commend- 
 ing us to God, with many good wishes for our safe 
 arrival at Seville. 
 
 When we arrived at the posada, I asked for a 
 room ; but as the only apartments in the inn were 
 destined for the Sevillana and the Granadina, I was 
 fain to sleep in the galera, stretching myself out on 
 the bales. As the morning advanced, I covered my- 
 self in cloak and calanes, and sallied out to explore 
 the streets of Osuna. It was Sunday, and many 
 peasants had come together from the neighbourhood 
 to say mass and lounge away the day. Some were 
 sitting in groups in the shade, smoking ; others were 
 going the rounds of the shops, bargaining for leath- 
 12* 
 
138 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 ern gaiters, or a manta, or a pack-saddle for a mule, 
 or earthen pucheros to cook in. I was amused at 
 some of the signs of the shopmen and artisans : 
 thus, a blacksmith's shop was marked by an anvil 
 set out before his door, on which was written, in 
 schoolboy characters, "jSoy de Francisco de Torres," 
 " I belong to Francisco de Torres." The barber's 
 shop was designated by signs emblematic of the va- 
 rious branches of his profession. Thus, the copper 
 basin or helmet of Mambrino denoted the shaver 
 of beards ; a rude painting of a bandaged arm or 
 leg, with a red stream spirting from it, the man 
 of the lancet and leeches ; while a long string of 
 teeth, the obsolete cutters and grinders of those 
 whose jaws he had relieved, proclaimed the dentist. 
 The length of the string doubtless served as an os- 
 tentatious standard of the barber's experience in the 
 tooth-drawing art, as one would judge of the extent 
 of a physician's practice by his reports to the clerk of 
 the bills of mortality. 
 
 The men of the galeras were many of them from 
 Osuna ; and when they had given provender to the 
 mules, they went home to put on a clean shirt and 
 Sunday suit, in order to appear better in the eyes of 
 
SUNDAY IN OSTJNA. 139 
 
 their wives or sweethearts. I asked one of them, 
 an ill-favoured old fellow, with a crooked face, and 
 like Hannibal, one-eyed, who stayed behind smok- 
 ing cigarillos and dozing in the galera, why he did 
 not put on his Majo rig like the rest. But it seemed 
 that the sovereign passion, which made Hercules 
 change his club and his lion's skin for a spindle and 
 a petticoat, and even found its way to the heart of 
 the Holy St. Francis,* had no power over the obdu- 
 rate muleteer. " To what purpose," said he, " since 
 my mother's son has neither matron nor mistress ;" 
 adding, with a dubious shake of the head, and a 
 cunning wink with his single eye, "El melon y el ca- 
 samiento, ha de ser acertamiento," " Choose a melon 
 or a wife : 'tis all chance whether you pick a good 
 one or a bad." 
 
 Some of our men I met in the little old Gothic 
 church of Osuna, whither they had gone, like 
 good Catholics, to mass and confessional. There 
 some monks in white flannel robes, begirt with the 
 rope girdle with which they discipline the unruly 
 flesh, were performing mass before the grand altar ; 
 
 * For an account of an odd amour of San Francisco, see Hudi- 
 bras, Part II. Canto II. 
 
140 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 while the open area of the church was filled with 
 the congregation, the men humbly kneeling, and the 
 women seated on the floor with their feet tucked up 
 beneath them. At the tinkling of the little bell all 
 assumed a kneeling posture, bowing the head, and 
 smiting the breast ; and as they left the church, 
 every one stopped to dip a finger in the consecrat- 
 ed water, and sign the sign of the cross, pausing 
 reverently at the door to make a genuflexion, with 
 the face turned towards the great altar. To cover 
 the head before leaving the church, as is a custom 
 not unfrequent in Protestant countries, would be con- 
 sidered not only indecorous, but an absolute profa- 
 nation by the Catholic, whose devout demeanour in 
 his religious exercises might teach a good example 
 to sects who upbraid him with superstition and ido- 
 latry. 
 
 When we started in the afternoon, we were fol- 
 lowed beyond the limits of Osuna by a tribe of 
 bare-headed and tawny urchins, the sons of our 
 mayorals and men, who had come out with their pa- 
 rents to take leave, and at length unwillingly left 
 them, crying out their " adios," and " God be with 
 you," till their voices were lost in the distance. 
 
APPROACH TO SEVILLE. 141 
 
 Some of them, who had been honoured by the emi- 
 nent distinction of a seat on the may oral's bench, 
 lingered with us for half a league ; doubtless look- 
 ing forward with ambitious and curious longing to 
 the happy time when they should be big enough to 
 play the mayoral themselves, and go to see the far- 
 off wonders of Seville. 
 
 Just without the town, a great many labourers, 
 who had discharged their Sabbath duties by hearing 
 mass in the morning, were thrashing the newly- 
 gathered grain, which was performed by the tramp- 
 ling of a number of mules and horses tied together 
 and driven round in a ring. The chaff is after- 
 wards separated from the wheat by tossing it from 
 head to heap. In the neighbourhood of Osuna 
 there were many olive orchards ; but as we ad- 
 vanced, the cultivated fields became more rare, and 
 many unlaboured and wild tracts bespoke a gene- 
 ral decline and insecurity. 
 
 We were now drawing towards the close of our 
 journey. We halted in the evening at a little pueblo, 
 and on the following night performed our last 
 stage, and found ourselves at day -break within sight 
 of the towering Giralda, the far-famed belfry of the 
 
142 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 noble old cathedral of Seville. Near the city gate 
 were assembled many droves of horses, mules, and 
 asses, who were stopped there to pay the duties, 
 which, by the wretched system of the Spanish 
 Aduana, are exacted on merchandize and produce 
 entering the city. Here also our galeras came to a 
 short halt, while the passengers delivered their pass- 
 ports and received a ticket for them, to be presented 
 the next day at the Police. 
 
 Here, also, we were met by an antiquated coach, 
 such as the reader may see in the plates of Gil Bias, 
 drawn by a pair of tall, slender-legged, and well-sha- 
 ven mules, and driven by a withered old coachman, 
 in a cocked hat and obsolete livery, assisted by a 
 footman similarly attired. In the coach were two 
 Spanish dames, with fans and black lace mantillas, 
 whose wrinkles and sallow faces were in good keep- 
 ing with their ancient equipage. They at once 
 broke out into a volley of welcomes to the Sevilla- 
 na, accompanied by a rapid shaking of their closed 
 fans ; for the Spanish women have a way of talk- 
 ing with their fans as well as with their tongues. 
 These were answered in the same way by our fair 
 fellow-traveller, who presently crawled out of the 
 
SEVILLE* L43 
 
 galera, resumed her gay bonnet which had spent a 
 sinecure week dangling at the back of the galera, 
 and was handed by the smiling footman into the car- 
 riage. As the long-eared mules trotted demurely 
 away, the kisses and greetings of the Sevillana and 
 her ancient friends were heard amid the cracking of 
 the whip and the long-drawn " arre" of the old 
 coachman. 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 SEVILLE. 
 
 THE galeras of Don Manuel being driven off to 
 be examined at the Custom House, the passengers 
 entered the city on foot, each hiding himself closely 
 in cloak and sombrero, to cover his dusty and road- 
 worn attire. Those who had friends in Seville went 
 to their houses, while such of us as were strangers 
 in the city of the Giralda sought the mercenary and 
 comfortless hospitality of a Fonda. 
 
 The inn at which we halted, after threading our 
 way through several narrow and winding streets, 
 
144 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 was a low-roofed brick building, with the exterior 
 walls plastered ; a Moorish usage, which does very 
 well in the mild climate of Andalusia, where severe 
 cold is unknown, or at least unusual. The windows 
 were covered with iron cages, a universal custom in 
 Spain, which originated in those lawless times when 
 a man's house was literally his castle, and which 
 there is still perhaps sufficient insecurity to justify. 
 A little iron cross was nailed over the portal, the 
 sacred emblem of the faith, and perhaps a fancied 
 charm against the evil one ; for in Spain religion and 
 superstition go hand in hand. 
 
 The posadero, in coarse velvet breeches, blue wool- 
 len hose, and a jacket of brown cloth, adorned with 
 silk braid and silver clasps, was sitting at the wide 
 portal. We asked for a room ; but our host, rising 
 and lifting his sombrero with one hand, while with 
 the stained fingers of the other he struck off the 
 ashes from his paper cigarillo, replied, " No hay, 
 caballeros." While I stood in a state of irresolution, 
 twirling my hat in my hand, for it was too early to 
 seek the house of a family to whom a friend had 
 addressed me, the long-eared mules of Don Manuel 
 appeared round the corner, bringing, at a brisk trot, 
 
SEVILLE. 145 
 
 the unburdened galeras. The zagals unharnessed 
 them, and led the willing beasts through the wide 
 portal of the inn, and thence through the patio, or 
 central court-yard to the stables. Then they tumbled 
 out the trunks, bandboxes, beds, and pillows of the 
 passengers, and threw them all into a little room 
 near the door, which also served as a depository for 
 the trappings of the mules and the furniture of the 
 galeras. " Goza de tu poco, mientras busca mas el 
 loco," says the adage, " Enjoy the little you have, 
 and let the fool go hunting for more." Certain 
 that in looking for another posada I should find the 
 same dirt and dearth of accommodations, and per- 
 haps fare worse by going further, I contrived to 
 make my toilet in the best manner I was able in 
 the little room beside the door, within hearing of 
 the people of either sex, who came to dun Don 
 Manuel for packages and parcels from Granada. 
 Our squinting cosario despatched the ugly and old 
 in as summary a manner as possible, bidding them 
 " go with God" as soon as he had satisfied their 
 inquiries ; but if a well-favoured dame presented 
 herself, his ill-paired eyes lighted up with a gracious 
 expression, he had a dozen little questions and many 
 13 
 
146 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 a broad jest to make them linger ; and as he followed 
 the steps of the receding fair one to the door, hat in 
 hand, he would call after her, " Hemosa hasta otro 
 ratito, si Dios quiere !" " Till we meet again, my 
 pretty one, if God pleases." The dame or damsel 
 thus complimented, could not do less, as she stepped 
 away with the elastic tread and enticing grace of 
 the Andaluza, than cast back on the gallant cosario 
 a satisfied glance over her shoulder, and salute him 
 with a farewell shake of her fan. 
 
 Having got rid of some of the dust of our journey, 
 and despatched a cup of chocolate and a bizcocho, I 
 bethought myself that I was in the city of Figaro, 
 and sallied out to see if I could find any of his 
 descendants to lop off a week's growth from my chin. 
 As I went, I looked over the doors of the houses for 
 the copper basin, the bandaged leg and arm, the signs 
 of this shaving, bleeding, and tooth-drawing frater- 
 nity. These I presently discovered, and raising the 
 striped curtain which hung before the door, a com- 
 fortable device to shut out the sun and admit the air, 
 which is said to have been introduced by the Moors, 
 I found the barber within. He was a thin, dry man, 
 with a long nose and a grave aspect, quite unlike 
 
A BARBER OF SEVILLE. 147 
 
 -* ' ' -'' 
 
 him of the opera ; at least as I had seen him repre- 
 sented by the inimitable Lablache, that soul of good 
 humour and picture of good condition. But in one 
 respect he was like the merry Figaro. A guitar, 
 which hung amidst copper basins, towels, and racks 
 of razors, showed that he was a lover of music, which 
 indeed has been a universal characteristic of the fra- 
 ternity in Spain from time out of mind. The obser- 
 vant Quevedo, in consideration of the natural pro- 
 pensity of the barbers to tinkling this instrument, 
 proposed that they should abandon the curtain and 
 the copper basin, and hang up a guitar in their stead.* 
 Having saluted me with a profound bow, and a 
 " Para servir a usted, caballero," he tucked a towel 
 round my throat ; then putting a little hot water and 
 a piece of soap in a copper basin, he applied the 
 instrument beneath my chin where the hole is made 
 in the rim to receive the neck. Supporting the basin 
 with his left hand, he lathered my face with his right, 
 rubbing round and round, upward and downward, 
 with as great assiduity as the nun rubbed the lame 
 leg of Corporal Trim. Having thus mollified the 
 , and strapped his razor for half a minute with 
 
 * Q,uevedo,-^Pragmatica del tiempo. 
 
148 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 Andaluzia vivacity, he came to the crowning part of 
 the operation, which was effected in a trice, my beard 
 being still in its infancy, and tractable in spite of a 
 week's neglect. This done, I took my leave with 
 the customary remuneration of a rial, and a com- 
 mendation to God's guardianship, which he return- 
 ed with the usual compliment : " Cavalier, may 
 your worship go in a good hour/' 
 
 Passing along the street of Genoa, which was 
 filled with shops of trades-people, I presently came 
 to the famous old cathedral, and was equally sur- 
 prised at the grandeur of its dimensions and the 
 irregularity of its form. Beside it rose the tall 
 tower of the Giralda, a light Moorish edifice, whose 
 height the Christians increased by adding a belfry at 
 the summit, where hang a great many bells, big 
 and little, bearing the dignified appellations of San 
 Pedro, San Pablo, and a score of saints, male and 
 female, painted over each. I toiled my way up the 
 winding staircase, not on an armed war-horse as did 
 some knights of old, nor on a donkey like one of the 
 good queens of Spain, but as an humble pedestrian ; 
 stopping at intervals to get breath, and then plodding 
 upward and upward till I reached a little shrine and 
 
THE CATHEDRAL. 149 
 
 image of Our Lady, and presently stepped forth upon 
 the terrace. Just above stands the Giralda, the bra- 
 zen female image which has given its name to the 
 tower, and is the grand weathercock of Seville. Per- 
 haps to the amiableness of this brazen dame, who 
 whirls about with every breeze so that one knows not 
 how to take her, may be traced the phrase of " hija de 
 la Giralda," a term of reproach to such giddy people 
 as tell wild tales, and contradict the assertion of one 
 moment by the asseveration of the next. 
 
 Though the exterior of the cathedral was a vene- 
 rable mass of deformity, the interior was a happy 
 union of simplicity and grandeur, with its long solemn 
 aisles, its sturdy stone columns, and its bold arches 
 of massive mason work, which time had tinged with 
 a dusky and sombre hue. Priests were moving ac- 
 cross the aisles in different directions, some going to 
 perform their devotions at one altar, some at another ; 
 for, from the vast size of the church, the prayers of- 
 fered at one shrine were inaudible at the rest. 
 Devotees, mostly women, were scattered about the 
 church, kneeling with rosary in hand before the 
 shrines of the various saints. In this way they make 
 the morning round from altar to altar, with the cus- 
 13* 
 
150 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 ternary prayers and genuflexions at each shrine, and 
 obtain thereby a certain number of days of indulgence. 
 Here and there, a stranger, brought thither like my- 
 self more by curiosity than devotion, and inattentive 
 to holier things, might be seen gazing with admira- 
 tion on the glittering ornaments of the altars, mea- 
 suring with his eye the grandeur of the long aisles 
 of this noble temple, or studying with delight the 
 faithful nature and sweet simplicity of Murillo's 
 pencil in some of his most happy eiforts. Not even 
 in the churches in Spain is one free from the tor- 
 menting importunity of beggars. I was admiring a 
 delightful painting of the great Spanish artist, where 
 an angel is represented leading a bright-eyed boy by 
 the hand, when an old woman, with a long rosary 
 in her hand, and her sallow wrinkled face half cover- 
 ed by a tattered and long mantilla, came up to me 
 to solicit alms. She told me the usual tale, perhaps 
 too often true, of a husband sick and helpless, and a 
 house full of starving children. I have noticed that 
 the mendicants get more from the priests than from 
 any one else ; they doubtless have an interest in 
 thus cultivating the affections of the poorer classes. 
 At all events it is but a just retribution, that they 
 
THE CATHEDRAL. 151 
 
 who live idly luxuriously by the sweat of the poor 
 man's brow should restore a little of their getting in 
 the shape of alms. 
 
 In wandering about the church my attention 
 was attracted by a rough sculpture on the pave- 
 ment of an antiquated ship or galley surmount- 
 ing an inscription. It was much worn by the 
 feet arid knees of the pious, for it was just in 
 front of a shrine. On examining the inscription I 
 found it was the tomb of the Adelantado, the son of 
 that great but unfortunate and injured man who 
 discovered the far-off country from which I had 
 begun my wanderings. 
 
 Passing out of this noble cathedral, I entered a 
 Plaza or open place where stands the beautiful and 
 costly edifice, which in the better days of this un- 
 happy country was erected for an Exchange. Spain 
 having utterly fallen from her place among com- 
 mercial nations, and Seville having participated 
 in the common decline, the building, with its spa- 
 cious court and commodious chambers is almost en- 
 tirely deserted by merchants and money-changers. 
 It is now employed as a grand store-house of 
 American records relating to the discoveries and 
 
152 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 conquests of the Spaniards in the new world. Here 
 our distinguished countryman found many rich 
 materials to aid him in that beautiful work, which, 
 while it perpetuates the fame of Columbus, will be 
 at the same time a lasting monument to his own. 
 
 Crossing the Plaza, I came to an ancient pile of 
 buildings, once the residence of the Moorish mo- 
 narch, but which, except that part of it peculiarly 
 set apart for the royal reception, has undergone va- 
 rious changes to adapt it for the uses of private oc- 
 cupation. In a part of this Alcazar or palace lived 
 the English family to which I was addressed. Sit- 
 ting in the shade of the wall were slovenly soldiers 
 off duty; some making their paper cigars, and 
 others lazily dozing away the time till they should 
 be called to relieve the guard at the prison hard by. 
 Entering a small court or ante-room, paved with 
 bricks, and pulling the bell-cord, I was reconnoitred 
 through a hole in the ceiling some twenty feet 
 above, and saluted with the usual demand of 
 "quien?" Returning the formula with the custo- 
 mary assurance of my peaceable intentions, the 
 door swung open with a jerk, and I ascended a 
 winding staircase. The walls were of a ponderous 
 
THE ALCAZAR. 153 
 
 thickness, and looked as sturdy as the bastion of a 
 fortress. The lady of the house bade me welcome 
 in my native English, which, with all its hissing, 
 guttural, and sputtering intonations, so unlike the 
 harmonious Spanish, yet sounded musical to my 
 ears. A gallego was despatched for my baggage, 
 and I felt half at home though in a land of stran- 
 gers. 
 
 Immediately opposite the house was a gloomy 
 building, called the Carcel Militar, or military prison. 
 Here were confined a colonel and two other officers, 
 the hapless victims of Spanish despotism. They 
 were suspected of having been connected with the 
 recent troubles at Cadiz and in the North, those 
 impotent efforts of the disheartened friends of revo- 
 lution. The brother of one of these officers was 
 at the same moment a prisoner of state at Madrid. 
 Hope will slip past the bolts and bars of a Spanish 
 prison, to comfort even the victim of Spanish tyran- 
 ny. These poor fellows, thus confined at some hun- 
 dreds of miles apart, and on that foulest of charges, 
 the having dared to dream of liberty, sometimes con- 
 soled themselves perchance with the sweet illusion 
 that they might ere long be locked in each other's em- 
 
154 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 brace. They probably little thought that on the very 
 same day they should hang ignominiously from the 
 scaffolds of Madrid and Seville, a fearful example to 
 the friends of that freedom whose very name . is an 
 abomination to all loyal lovers of the throne and 
 the altar. I used often to see these prisoners look- 
 ing disconsolately through the gratings that separat- 
 ed them from the careless world without. Though 
 not pinioned or shackled, they were narrowly watch- 
 ed. An efficient guard was kept at the prison-doors, 
 and a sentinel stood all day and all night long be- 
 neath their windows, where he was out of sight of 
 the prisoners. Through the kindness of the com- 
 manding officer, who in this, perhaps, overstepped 
 the strict limits of his duty, the colonel's wife was 
 allowed to come occasionally within the prison to 
 visit him. I also sometimes saw him pacing up 
 and down his room with a chubby faced boy by 
 the hand, who was now and then permitted to 
 console the sadness and solitude of his parent. In 
 the evenings, when he would be sitting in his 
 cheerless chamber with his head leaning on his 
 hand, reading by a flickering light which feebly 
 illuminated the apartment, and threw into relief 
 
THE ALCAZAR. 155 
 
 the stout grating of the window, it reminded me 
 of scenes I had beheld at the theatre, or in the pic- 
 tures of Ghiardo deila Notte. These men had been 
 thrown into prison on suspicion, and perhaps they 
 had never received a specification of the crimes with 
 which they were charged ; for these are idle forms 
 which despotic justice despises. They knew not 
 when they would be brought to trial, and if they 
 chose to look on the dark side of the picture, might 
 perhaps expect to be confined for years without any 
 trial at all. However, they were much better off 
 than some of their fellow-sufferers. They could 
 see the light of the sun and breathe the fresh air ; 
 nay, participate at times in the sweet and cheering 
 intercourse of children and friends ; while another 
 officer, confined on the very same charge of political 
 infidelity, was shut up in the damp and darkness of 
 a subterranean dungeon beneath the gate of the 
 prison which stands in the Plaza Real. 
 
156 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 ATTRACTIONS OF SEVILLE. 
 
 THE traveller will never be at a loss for objects 
 of interest to employ a sojourn of many days at Se- 
 ville. Foremost, perhaps, among its attractions, 
 one should visit the paintings of the delightful 
 Murillo, who has left so many memorials of his 
 genius in that city, where he laboured diligently 
 for many years. These are scattered about in the 
 churches and convents, and in the collections of in- 
 dividuals. Perhaps there are no paintings which 
 possess, in so great a degree as his, the power of 
 pleasing both the practised eye of the connoisseur 
 and that of the untaught in the mysteries of the art ; 
 two classes which do not always harmonize in their 
 tastes. 
 
 Some very agreeable pictures of the Spanish 
 Apelles I found at the extreme end of the city in the 
 convent of the Capuchins, a long-bearded and 
 bare-footed fraternity ; who, however they may pride 
 themselves on the possession of these treasures, but 
 
PAINTINGS OF MURILLO. 157 
 
 little understand the art of preserving them. Such 
 is the unhappy fate of many noble paintings in 
 Spain and Italy, exposed with little or no care in 
 dark, gloomy churches and convents, where the 
 dust gathers on them year after year and century 
 after century, and where the curious lover of the 
 arts, by the dim and uncertain light that finds its way 
 through stained windows and into gloomy shrines 
 and recesses, can just see that a good painting is 
 there, whose merits are provokingly clouded by the 
 dirt and the obscurity. I have often wished that the 
 despotic sovereigns in those two unhappy countries, 
 since they will play the oppressors in so many 
 other matters, would act in this with similar disre- 
 gard to the laws of meum and tuum ; and, laying 
 their hands on all these neglected and decaying 
 treasures, gather them into the public galleries. 
 There some pains would be spent on their preserva- 
 tion, and the artist and the traveller could enjoy 
 them fully. But this forbearance is readily ex- 
 plained. Such an appropriation of their goods 
 would oifend the clergy ; and for these despotic po- 
 tentates to forfeit the good-will of the church, would 
 
 be an act of political suicide. 
 14 
 
158 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 Among the other amusements of Seville may be 
 classed the sports of the amphitheatre. The bull- 
 fight, the darling exhibition of the lower classes, is 
 no where conducted with greater skill. The bulls 
 of Andalusia surpass those of every other part of 
 Spain in bravery, and the Plaza itself yields to none 
 other in size. It was, perhaps, from the superior 
 address of the Sevillians in the bloody sports of the 
 arena that their city was chosen for the school of 
 tauromachy. There the whole art is regularly 
 taught, and the young aspirant to bull-fighting re- 
 nown is enabled to try his untutored prowess on cows 
 and oxen destined for the shambles, till he gradu- 
 ally attains skill and courage to dare the fierce 
 fathers of the herd before the assembled thousands 
 of the Plaza. One visit to this place was quite 
 enough to satisfy my curiosity. 
 
 Having learned the site of the school, and been 
 called at an early hour by the punctual Dolores, 
 the Maritornes of the house, I bent my steps towards 
 this bull-fighting college, which lies without the 
 gates of the city. The entrance was through a 
 filthy slaughter-house, where several butchers were 
 killing cattle, their shirt-sleeves and trowsers rolled 
 
SCHOOL OF TAUROMACHY. 159 
 
 up, and their legs and arms spattered with blood. I 
 stopped to inquire for the amphitheatre of the school. 
 The savage looking fellow to whom I addressed 
 myself, and who was stripping the hide from the 
 smoking carcass of an unlucky cow, pointed, with 
 the bloody blade of his long knife, to a neighbouring 
 gate. It just then flew open, and out rushed a poor 
 ox upon whom the pupils had been practising. His 
 coat was sprinkled with blood, and gashed in many 
 places with the pike and the banderilla ; his mouth 
 and dewlap were covered with foam ; and his star- 
 ing eyes, his horns thrown up wildly in the air, 
 and his headlong career, showed that torture had 
 driven away for a moment his accustomed meek- 
 ness, and had frightened the poor beast into some- 
 thing like resistance. Two or three butchers 
 presently rushed towards him, and having thrown 
 a noose over his horns, they passed the rope through 
 a ring, and with much difficulty dragged the strug- 
 gling victim to it. When his head was brought 
 close to the ground, and he was thus deprived of 
 the means of resistance, a blow of the axe directed 
 on the forehead, speedily released him from tor- 
 ture. 
 
160 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 A few cuartos gained me admittance to the am- 
 phitheatre, where I found collected many vulgar- 
 looking fellows; some embryo bull-fighters, and 
 other spectators of their youthful efforts. The 
 place was arranged like the Plaza de Toros, having 
 a small arena, round which rose the barrier and 
 seats for the spectators. A young steer was flying 
 about the arena with banderillas sticking in his 
 neck, and several chulos were vying with each 
 other to increase his torment by fastening others. 
 The steer being at length let out by the gate 
 which opened upon the slaughter-yard, an old 
 bull was introduced, whose bravery and vigour 
 had been broken down by years. There was 
 still, however, something formidable in his broad 
 shoulders, his short, pointed horns, and his digni- 
 fied bearing, compared with that of the steer which 
 had preceded him. The younger boys stood aloof 
 or retreated over the barrier, leaving their more 
 dexterous schoolmates to cope with the new-comer. 
 Banderilla after banderilla planted in his neck, 
 awakened this broken-down veteran to the lost fire 
 of his youth, and he began to rush boldly about 
 the arena. At length a young matador brought out 
 
SCHOOL OF TAUROMACHY. 161 
 
 the Jong, heavy sword to kill him ; but although the 
 bull charged boldly and steadily enough, the wea- 
 pon was wielded by an awkward arm ; now gashing 
 the neck of the poor beast, now flying into the air 
 as it recoiled from striking a bone. The unskilful 
 scholar could not hit that fatal spot where the sword, 
 duly directed, may hide itself to the hilt, carrying 
 speedy death to the heart of the victim ; the bull, 
 gashed and streaming with blood, was presently dis^ 
 missed to the surer hands of the butchers. 
 
 I soon grew tired of this disgusting exhibition ; 
 for here was cruelty without skill and vulgarity 
 without splendour. In the regular bull-fight, though 
 one sees horses gored to death, and noble beasts tor- 
 tured unsparingly, yet there is much to relieve all 
 this, and to dignify the exhibition, in the graceful 
 dress of the combatants, all adorned with gold and 
 embroidery; in the rapid, flitting movements of 
 the banderilleros ; in the manly attitude, the skill 
 and the unwavering composure of the matador; 
 in the shouts of thousands of exulting and deeply 
 excited spectators ; and in the headlong bravery 
 of the untamed and beautiful lords of the herd, 
 brought in strong and sleek, and fiercely brave, 
 14* 
 
162 .7 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 from roaming unconstrained masters over mountain 
 and meadow. 
 
 The school of tauromachy, unattractive as it was, 
 had charms for an eccentric nobleman, who lived 
 not long since at Seville. The arena of the school 
 was his frequent resort, and sometimes he even dared 
 the dangers of the Plaza ; but on the latter occasions 
 he did not greatly distinguish himself. When this 
 amateur matador faced the fierce charge of his horn- 
 ed antagonist, his face would turn pale and the 
 sword tremble in his hand ; so that when he intend- 
 ed to gather laurels for bravery and skill, he was 
 too often rewarded with the sneers of the fair and 
 the contempt of his vulgar compeers of the arena. 
 In former days, ere the spirit of chivalry was extinct, 
 and ere the bull-fight had degenerated into a vulgar 
 amusement, the proudest lords of the land entered 
 the lists, and met the bull with lance and sword. 
 But that time having long gone by, and the art hav- 
 ing fallen into the hands of hirelings, it was strange 
 that a nobleman should have forgotten both his con- 
 stitutional cowardice and the dignity of his condi- 
 tion, in the passion for a sport conducted only by 
 men of low birth and debauched habits. 
 
163 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 MADRID. 
 
 AFTER spending two or three weeks at Seville, I 
 departed in the diligence for the metropolis ; and 
 though the road was at that time infested by ban- 
 ditti, I had the good fortune to arrive unharmed in 
 purse or person. This good fortune was, however, 
 very accidental. I had taken my seat some days 
 previous, when, on going to the police office, some 
 informality was discovered in my passport, and I 
 was remanded to Cadiz to have my nationality veri- 
 fied by the American consul there. This seemed at 
 the time both vexatious and embarrassing. But on 
 learning, on my return to Seville, that the diligence 
 in which I had previously taken my passage had 
 been robbed, I blessed my stars, gave over denounc- 
 ing the impertinent commissary, and was more than 
 ever disposed to assent to the proposition that what- 
 ever is, is right. 
 
 I found the inn at which I took lodgings at Ma- 
 
164 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 drid so comfortless a place, that I presently went in 
 quest of private lodgings. After a day or two I 
 found myself snugly domesticated in the house of a 
 lively little Madrilenian, Dona Bibiana by name. 
 She rented the first floor of a house in the bustling 
 Plazuela del Carmen, and lived thriftily herself in a 
 sort of pigeon-hole beside the kitchen, while she 
 turned a penny by letting the rooms to lodgers. 
 
 My apartments looked out upon the square just 
 mentioned, which was used as a market-place, and 
 was filled till after mid-day with a crowd of buyers 
 and sellers. ^ Vegetables, meat, sausages, fruit, and va- 
 rious commodities were here exposed for sale ; and 
 the bustle and buz began from the peep of day. At 
 that early hour the vender of vegetables brought his 
 store in straw panniers swung across the back of a 
 patient ass ; and the butcher came with his load of 
 the limbs of slaughtered lambs, calves, and kids, 
 dangling from the iron hooks of a large wooden sad- 
 dle, which was set upon the withers of his horse, 
 while he himself was perched upon the rump 
 behind. Most of these market people were women ; 
 a prating, noisy, higgling, and quarrelsome tribe, 
 whose character Dona Bibiana summed up by as- 
 
PLAZUELA DEL CARMEN. 165 
 
 suring me, that out of forty, you might find one de- 
 cent and the rest possessed with the devil. I have 
 often been attracted to the balcony by the stormy 
 outcries of these dames of the market-place, when 
 some petty point of dispute had got them together 
 by the ears. As they screamed forth strange oaths 
 and abuse, and tossed their sun-burnt arms about with 
 many a menace, I recalled the great truth of San- 
 cho Panza's sarcasm on this class of people when he 
 was writing from his island of Barataria to his mas- 
 ter Don duixote. "What I can assure your wor- 
 ship is that, according to the report of the town, 
 there is not a more wicked set of people than these 
 market women ; for they are all without shame, con- 
 science, or moderation ; and indeed, I believe the re- 
 ports from what I have seen in other places." 
 
 The din and bustle of the market-place, though 
 amusing to me, was not much to the taste of my 
 little landlady, who shortly afterwards changed her 
 domicil to the more modish street of the Gentleman 
 of Grace. "Here," said she, "we shall see many 
 great folks pass, and no longer be deafened with the 
 everlasting cries of the Plazuela." 
 
 Dona Bibiana being a poor, lone woman, was 
 
166 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 obliged to live with much thrift ; and after paying 
 the landlord and the aguador, and supplying her pip- 
 kin with its daily mess of bread and garbanzos, she 
 had but little left to spend in fine gowns and man- 
 tillas. Nevertheless, when of a feast-day she would 
 go out to walk in the street of Alcala or on the Pra- 
 do, she made a very decent and comely appearance. 
 Like most Spanish women, she had the art of put- 
 ting on her clothes with grace ; besides, she was 
 but twenty-five, had a bright pair of hazel eyes, and 
 a neat little foot and ancle. Her only assistant in 
 the cares of the household was a Gallego lad, an 
 honest, dull-witted fellow, who ran on errands, 
 cleaned the boots of the lodgers, and performed ma- 
 ny little offices in-doors and out. The poor lad, 
 about these times, was in great trepidation lest he 
 should be made to enlist ; for the soldier's life in 
 Spain is not an enviable one. It is true that now-a- 
 days he is not much in the way of blows ; but then 
 his pay is a miserable pittance, which poorly com- 
 pensates the restraint of the service. I asked him 
 one day why he did not marry, and thus secure 
 himself against the chances of the conscription. But 
 at this desperate proposition he shook his head, and 
 
THE PRADO. 167 
 
 seemed to think it little better than shunning Scylla 
 by running upon Chary bdis. 
 
 It was an easy walk from the house of Dona Bi- 
 biana to the far-famed Prado. the pride of the Ma- 
 drilenian and delight of the traveller. Thither I re- 
 sorted daily at the hour of the paseo, when the 
 scorching heat of the midsummer sun had abated, 
 and the inhabitants, who till then had hid them- 
 selves within-doors, issued forth in crowds, like bees 
 from a hive, in quest of fresh air and exercise. 
 
 The Prado of Madrid, with its motley equipages, 
 its various and picturesque costumes, its gay crowds 
 of cavaliers and footmen, its alleys, its fountains, and 
 all its attractions, so winning to native and stranger, 
 has been so often described, that the reader would 
 not thank me for a lame account of a scene with 
 which he is already familiar. But if he wishes to 
 know the story or the character of a few of the 
 individuals who figure in this moving pageant, and 
 will take a seat with me on one of the rush-bottomed 
 chairs beside the main walk it will cost us but 
 two cuartos I will try to while away a half hour 
 for him. 
 
 Yonder over-dressed dandy, who swings a whale- 
 
' , 
 
 168 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 bone walking-stick with the self-satisfied air of a 
 man of fashion, and turns out his toes with a certain 
 professional precision, is Don Juan Baylarin, a vo- 
 tary of Terpsichore and dancing-master to the fami- 
 ly of an Infante. Don Juan was in extensive prac- 
 tice in a private way ; but being ambitious of add- 
 ing to his revenue and having his name enrolled on 
 the glittering lists of court patronage, he determined, 
 by God's blessing, to change the obscurity of private 
 life for a place in the palace under the auspices of 
 Don Carlos. But how to do this was the question ; 
 he had been a great rake, and his irreligious cha- 
 racter would stand in his way with a godly prince, 
 who was the idol of the priesthood, and had the 
 credit of idolizing the priesthood in return. To ac- 
 complish his object he resolved to draw the charita- 
 ble cloak of piety over his gayety and vice. He 
 straightway eschewed the society of libertines, put 
 on a long and grave face, and was seen, day by day, 
 going to mass and matins in the Church of the 
 Good Event, which stands in the Gate of the Sun. 
 - . -Here, with a regularity and fervour worthy of a 
 more sincere devotion, he told his beads, repeated 
 Ave upon Ave and Pater Noster upon Pater Noster, 
 
A COURT DANCING-MASTER. 169 
 
 beat his breast with contrition, and made as many 
 genuflexions as a Capuchin friar. By these good 
 works he grew in favour, if not with God at least 
 with the priesthood ; and being regarded as a de- 
 vout man, well worthy of teaching the airs and 
 graces to pious youths, he obtained, through their 
 influence, the post of dancing-master in the college 
 of Jesuits. Thence he made an easy step into the 
 palace ; he was made, thanks to his Aves and Pater 
 Nosters, the dancing-master to the family of Don 
 Carlos, where he has a snug monthly allowance, 
 with the assurance of a reasonable pension when 
 his superannuated heels can no longer figure in the 
 waltz and the pigeon-wing. 
 
 That shabby-looking man, who goes slowly and 
 stealthily along, and the slovenliness of whose at- 
 tire is doubtless more the result of dissimulation than 
 poverty, is a tailor, who has often acted as the go- 
 between for the minister of Grace and Justice, and 
 those hungry pertendientes who crowd to Madrid to 
 get offices in the civil or ecclesiastical service. I 
 heard of an instance which might be cited in proof 
 of the diplomatic dexterity of this man of the needle 
 and shears. A gentleman came not long since to 
 15 
 
170 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 Madrid to apply for a curacy in Estremadura for his 
 brother. Knowing that these places cost money, 
 and that the virtue of a Spanish functionary, like 
 Danae's of old, is best conquered by a shower of 
 gold, he had lined his purse with a goodly store of 
 ducats before setting out on this mission of fraternal 
 love. Hearing that the tailor, in spite of the hu- 
 mility of his station, was a man of singular influ- 
 ence with the exalted personage who, from the 
 ministerial chair of Grace and Justice, dispensed 
 the loaves and fishes of court patronage, he stated 
 the case to him, and also begged him to accept the 
 ducats as a trifling proof of his esteem. To what 
 use this official pander applied the money, and 
 whether any and what part of it found its way to 
 the pocket of the minister, are points which I can- 
 not decide, and must leave to the imagination of the 
 ingenious reader. Certain it is that the patent for 
 the curacy was presently forthcoming, and the Es- 
 tremadurian hied with it in his pocket to the arms of 
 the hitherto placeless priest, his expecting brother. 
 
 The next individual is one of that unlucky class 
 called impurificados, the proscribed friends of the 
 fallen Constitution. I mean that sad-looking man 
 
AN IMPURIPICADO. 171 
 
 who walks so demurely with his eyes on the ground, 
 dressed in a threadbare surtout buttoned up close to 
 his chin, doubtjess to hide some minor deficiency. 
 When the short-lived Constitutional system pre- 
 vailed, he had a good employment in the public ser- 
 vice; but when the perjured Ferdinand was re- 
 stored to his sovereign rights "Sus soberanos 
 derecfoos," as they are termed, that privilege to 
 tyrannize over his fellow-creatures, which, as all 
 good royalists will tell you, was conferred by God 
 himself that jus divinum which it is not only trea- 
 sonable but impious to doubt he was displaced 
 and proscribed, and is now a helpless wreck on the 
 ocean of life. He is an unhappy man, shunned by 
 all loyal subjects, and shunning his own friends, 
 lest the pollution of his political heresy should awa- 
 ken against them the suspicion of the jealous and 
 Argus-eyed police. This poor fellow sent the other 
 day to a gentleman of my acquaintance, saying that 
 his wife has just been brought to bed of her sixth 
 child, and begging him, for God's sake, to lend him 
 ten ducats to buy food for his family. This is not 
 a solitary instance ; it has too many parallels in 
 every part of Spain. 
 
172 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 But here comes a contrast to this victim of wretch- 
 edness and want. Yonder ill-formed, dwarfish man, 
 who lolls in his landau behind those spirited Andalu- 
 sian horses, is one of the richest grandees in Spain. 
 His ancestors, time out of mind, were among the 
 most powerful lords of the land, and had the signo- 
 rial right of many scores of villages. The rents 
 and revenues of the Duke are many hundred, thou- 
 sand ducats a year ; and yet the poor little man is 
 as close-fisted as Pygmalion of old. It has been re- 
 marked of this lordly house, that for several genera- 
 tions back its representatives have been alternately 
 spendthrifts or misers ; a circumstance which might 
 be accounted for by the extravagance of a parent 
 throwing upon his son an embarrassed estate, requir- 
 ing thrift and nursing to restore its impaired vigour. 
 A little anecdote might illustrate the contradictory 
 characters of the present Duke and his predecessor. 
 When a lad, he was standing one day at the door of 
 his father's palace, that overgrown building which 
 you may see yonder from the Prado, when a poor 
 man came with a valuable bird, which he had taught 
 with great pains a variety of little tricks. These 
 were exhibited to the admiring lad; the youthful 
 
A GRANDEE. 173 
 
 miser was pleased with the bird, and taking the 
 cage with its cunning little prisoner, drew out his 
 purse and handed the expecting peasant a solitary 
 dollar. The poor man was sadly disappointed, and 
 stood at the door, looking at his pet which he had 
 reared with such a deal of trouble, and hesitating 
 between the desire of reclaiming it and the fear of 
 offending the son of a duke. Just then the father 
 came, admired the bird ; but observing the disap- 
 pointment depicted on the peasant's countenance, 
 asked him what was the matter. " My Lord," said 
 the peasant, " I spent many a long day in teaching 
 the bird, and it seems to me it might perhaps be 
 worth more than these two ducats." " What, said 
 the Duke," mortified at the meanness of his child, 
 and determined to outdo it by an equal stretch of ge- 
 nerosity, " is not a dollar enough ? Surely a dollar a 
 day for the rest of your life is as much as you could 
 have expected. Go to my contador, and tell him to 
 put you down on" the list of my pensioners for a 
 pension of seven hundred ducats a year." 
 
 Profusion, rather than meanness, is the general 
 characteristic of the Spanish nobility. Often unen- 
 lightened, and of course unrefined, they seek their 
 15* 
 
174 
 
 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 enjoyments in sensual indulgence, spend their reve- 
 nues prodigally, and are not a little assisted in de- 
 vouring the yearly produce of their estates by their 
 hungry treasurers. A nobleman engaged in the 
 more lordly task of spending money, despises the 
 mean care of cherishing his store. Give him doub- 
 loons enough for the calls of the ecarte table and 
 the demands of his mistress, and his treasurer may 
 look to the vulgar business of accounts. Now the 
 treasurer is generally, if the race be not belied, as 
 conscientious a person as Gil Bias' friend, Don Gre- 
 gorio Rodriguez, the whilome major-domo of Don 
 Matias de Silva. The nobleman knows he is rob- 
 bed : but to be robbed by a contador is what his an- 
 cestors have suffered timeout of mind, and good old 
 customs are not easily dropped by the Spaniard. I 
 once heard of an instance of a Spanish grandee, who, 
 instead of being offended, took a pride in the fact 
 that his steward drove a finer equipage than him- 
 self. 
 
 Yonder dark-visaged, scowling man, who drives 
 his stanhope a 1'Anglaise, is a dethroned potentate, 
 the ex-Duke of Brunswick, who was banished from 
 his realms by his exasperated and outraged subjects. 
 
A DETHRONED TYRANT. 175 
 
 One may read in his stern and forbidding counte- 
 nance the cruel brutality of his disposition. Among 
 the other amiable traits of this princely exile is an 
 utter aversion to paying his debts. The workmen 
 who were employed at his hotel at Aranjuez have 
 besieged him in vain for their neglected bills, and 
 his servants are regularly driven out of doors at the 
 month's end for having the impudence to ask for 
 their wages. The Captain-General, tormented with 
 many complaints brought to him by his disappoint- 
 ed creditors, at length referred the matter to the go- 
 vernment, and an intimation is said to have been 
 given to his troublesome Highness that he might 
 have his passports as soon as he pleased. Among 
 other eccentricities is a trick he has of calling his ser- 
 vants, not by ringing a bell, but by firing a pistol, a 
 pair of which are his constant companions. This 
 he did one day to the utter consternation of a poor 
 tailor, who coming into his chamber to take the 
 measure of his princely person, was suddenly elec- 
 trified by the discharge of a pistol ; upon which he 
 fled down stairs with precipitation, thinking his life 
 was in danger. In truth there was some cause to 
 look upon him with apprehension ; for he had been 
 
176 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 known to threaten to blow out the brains of his 
 creditors when they came to dun him ; and once, in a 
 burst of passion, he murdered a hapless valet, who at 
 the risk of his life had saved his portfeuille and dia- 
 monds from a conflagration, but had neglected some- 
 thing of inferior value. 
 
 Yonder pretty woman in the blue cloth riding- 
 habit, who goes scampering up and down on a gray 
 gelding, with an English footman, booted and spur- 
 red, toiling after her on a bob-tailed bay, is the mis- 
 tress of the Duke of Brunswick. He contrives to 
 support her in good style, though deaf to the inde- 
 cent importunities of tailors, carpenters, servants, and 
 swarms of luckless and low-bred creditors. When 
 she first came to Madrid, she went about in man's 
 attire ; but the police getting an inkling of it, en- 
 joined her to resume her petticoats ; since, for a wo- 
 man to wear breeches was a thing unsanctioned by 
 the ancient usages of Spain. 
 
 That little old man in a slovenly black coat, who 
 wields a gold-headed cane, and whose wrinkled 
 bro ws and abstracted air would intimate that he is 
 wrapped in some profound speculation, is a learned 
 doctor, Don Jacobo Sanalotodo, as cunning in the 
 
A PRIEST AND DOCTOR. 177 
 
 healing art as Chiron the Centaur. He was once 
 the physician of the Princess of Beria ; but having 
 been guilty of the foul crime of Liberalism in the time 
 of the Constitution, the Doctor was turned away, 
 when despotism rose again to the top of the wheel 
 and free principles lay grovelling at the bottom. 
 Still such is the confidence reposed in this Corifeus 
 of physicians, that if the princess has a cold in her 
 head or her little finger aches, a message is at once 
 despatched for cure-all Don Jacobo. 
 
 This rosy-faced curate, whose long hat, black cas- 
 sock, and capeless cloak, so glossy and new. are of 
 richer materials than the clergy are wont to wear, 
 and whose air has something of the man of fashion 
 engrafted on the grave character of the ecclesiastic, 
 is Don Lothario Holgazan. Though a servant of 
 the church, he cares not a fig for mass and confes- 
 sional, fasts and vigils. The gayety of the ball-room 
 has more charms for him than the pious seclusion 
 of the closet, billets doux than the parchment tomes 
 of Aquinas, the whispers of a fair lady than the 
 croaking of the choir, and a good hand at ecarte 
 than all the rosaries that were ever blessed by pre- 
 late or pontiff. His piety is about as profound as 
 
178 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 Ambrose de Lamela's, and his virtue as impregnable 
 as Pope Joan's. Yet withal he is a lively, pleasant 
 fellow, has the entree to the houses of fashionable 
 reunion, is smiled upon by the gentler sex, and so 
 may snap his fingers at such ill-natured and unrea- 
 sonable people as choose to contrast his practice and 
 profession. 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 MADRID. 
 
 A MATTER which the stranger must look to imme- 
 diately on arriving at Madrid, or indeed in any other 
 Spanish town, is the arrangement of his passport 
 and obtaining the permission of the police to reside 
 in the place. This costs a great variety of errands 
 to one functionary and another, with fees to the por- 
 ters at the various bureaux, and a contribution of a 
 few rials to his majesty. The result of this trouble 
 in my case was that I received a " carta de seguri- 
 
PASSPORTS. 179 
 
 dad," or letter of security, authorizing me to make 
 my abode for a certain period in the house of Dona 
 Bibiana Buenahora, in the royal city of Madrid. 
 Bibiana, in her turn, was obliged to report to the 
 police the name of the stranger whom she received 
 into her lodgings. All these formalities served the 
 double purpose of giving the police information and 
 bringing a good deal of money into the public purse. 
 To the traveller in Spain his passport is a constant 
 subject of disquiet. If he stop at a pueblo to get a 
 puchero and feed his mule, a starveling police officer 
 is at his elbow, who must have a real for carrying his 
 passport to the village alcalde. It is also necessary, 
 when he halts for the night, to have an endorsement 
 made upon it by the magistrate of the place, or some- 
 times, if it be at a solitary inn, this duty is performed 
 with much ado, and in very crabbed characters, by 
 the landlord. A passport, after a few months' travel- 
 ling in Spain, is thus swollen to a document of as 
 portentous length as a bill in chancery, and covered 
 with quaint signatures, each with a complicated 
 rubrica or flourish at the tail of it. This rubrica is 
 a universal thing in Spanish signatures ; not only 
 among the judges, subdelegados, scriveners, and th* 
 
180 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 like, but also among private individuals. It consists 
 of certain twists and quirls of the pen twined 
 together at the caprice of the writer, like the snakes 
 on a Medusa ; they set imitation at defiance, and 
 would puzzle the Wicked One to find out where they 
 begin or end. The reader may remember that when 
 the money-loving Sancho Panza was getting from his 
 master an order for the three asses, the promised 
 reward of his fidelity, he asked Don Quixote to sign 
 the document. " There is no need of signing it," 
 said the knight, " but only to put my flourish, which 
 is the same as signing, and would be good, not for 
 three asses only, but for three hundred." I know 
 not whether the rubrica was really sufficient in the 
 time of Don Quixote, as was once a seal to a deed 
 in the early days of English barbarism ; but certain 
 it is, that custom has given it a certain importance 
 in Spanish eyes, so that a signature without a flourish 
 would look as odd as a cat without a tail. It has 
 also long been, and among old-fashioned people still 
 is, the custom to put a cross at the top of a letter. 
 It is a Christian usage of very ancient date ; and hence 
 the common saying when one wishes to express 
 that he has read a document or book through : " Yo 
 
DIFFICULTIES OF DINING. 181 
 
 lo he leido desde la cruz, hasta la fecha." Those 
 pious fellows, the escribanos or notaries, generally 
 put a cross over their signatures, and sometimes, if 
 extra-religious, the letters J. M. J. : meaning Jesus, 
 Mary, and Joseph. 
 
 Bibiana, besides supplying me with lodgings, also 
 gave me a morning meal of chocolate and a roll of 
 bread, with a supplementary egg or omelet. The 
 more serious affair of dining at first cost me some 
 inconvenience ; for though there are houses in 
 Madrid somewhat in the fashion of the French 
 restaurants, the cooking is detestable, and the whole 
 system a century behind the elegance of Paris. 
 After various voyages of discovery on this moment- 
 ous errand, I at last found a mesa redonda, or ordi- 
 nary, in the street of the Gentleman of Grace, where 
 one might make a very comfortable meal at the rea- 
 sonable charge of a dollar a day. The host was a 
 tun-bellied little Frenchman, with a gay, sunny coun- 
 tenance, and whose good condition augured favour- 
 ably of the cheer of his house. The guests whom 
 I found there were a motley collection of people 
 from all nations, and were, almost without exception, 
 merchants or commercial agents. Among all the 
 16 
 
182 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 people I met there during my residence at Madrid, 
 I remember but one besides myself who had come 
 to Spain as a mere traveller ; a circumstance which 
 strongly illustrates how much Spain, one of the most 
 attractive countries in Europe, is neglected by 
 tourists. 
 
 As these people all had their correspondents 
 abroad, one could gather at table the daily news 
 from the rest of Europe; a subject which the Gazette 
 of Madrid treats very sparingly, and after its own 
 fashion. Politics, however, are a prescribed topic of 
 conversation among prudent people in Spain ; and 
 hence, though we were all foreigners, the on dits of 
 the day were given without much comment. As 
 was natural with travellers, the conversation more 
 frequently fell on the sights we had seen and the 
 adventures we had met with in foreign lands. Spain 
 came in for a good share in these recitals, and many 
 a one had his tale to tell of " rateros y salteadores," 
 rat-catchers, and jumpers. 
 
 I remember a robber story, related by one of our 
 guests with a good humour which spoke well for 
 his philosophy. He had just arrived in the diligence 
 from Seville, which was attacked near Carmona by 
 
ROBBER STORY. 183 
 
 a band of about sixteen men. They wore the gay 
 costume of Andalusia, were stoutly armed with pis- 
 tols, knives, and carabines, and rode good horses as 
 might be expected ; for why should a man take a bad 
 one who makes his own choice, scot-free ? Our guest 
 lost, like the rest, all his money and baggage, even 
 to some of the clothes he had upon him, such as a 
 flashy pair of suspenders and a satin vest, fresh from 
 the shops of Paris. A repeater, which he also de- 
 livered, seemed particularly to take the fancy of the 
 chief of the band. He begged the unlucky owner 
 to give him a lesson in making it strike ; and so well 
 satisfied was he with the Frenchman's civility, that, 
 as he deposited the watch under his sash, he touched 
 his sombrero with respectful gravity, saying, "Senor, 
 me parece usted muy caballero," " Sir, you appear 
 to me to be very much of a gentleman." While the 
 robbery was going on, a small party of soldiers were 
 seen approaching, upon which the bandits very com- 
 posedly mounted their horses, and taking the reins in 
 their teeth so as to leave both hands to manage their 
 carabines, galloped boldly towards the enemy. The 
 soldiers fired a few shots, and then took to their heels. 
 The bandits, thus left in undisputed possession of the 
 
184 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 field, returned to complete their harvest, and then 
 commending the passengers to God's keeping, rode 
 leisurely away. 
 
 I have already remarked that the period during 
 which I was rambling through Spain was one of a 
 strong though smothered political excitement. The 
 revolution, which after the fierce and glorious strug- 
 gle of the Three Days, hurled the elder branch of the 
 Bourbons from the throne, while it startled the des- 
 potic rulers of Europe, had roused the flagging spi- 
 rits of their oppressed subjects. The unhappy Libe- 
 rals of Spain, whose day-dreams of freedom had 
 fled with the downfall of the Constitution, began to 
 cherish again those hopes which had before so bit- 
 terly deceived them. Plots were formed ; a commu- 
 nication was established between those who had 
 sought an asylum in foreign countries from the 
 wrath of the Absolute King, and their long-lost 
 friends, who, having been less obnoxious, had been 
 allowed to linger on the soil of their country. This 
 spirit of revolt, which they had so long fostered in 
 secret, at length broke out into overt acts, as ill-con- 
 certed in their plan as they were impotent in their 
 execution. Mina, with a handful of partizans, ap- 
 
REVOLUTIONARY MOVEMENTS. 185 
 
 peared on the northern frontier ; Torrejos hovered 
 on the coast of the Mediterranean with a scanty 
 band of desperate adventurers ; the plot of a rising 
 was formed in the Isla de Leon : in short, the un- 
 happy children of Liberalism, in various parts of 
 Spain, were preparing to make one last desperate 
 effort to tear off their manacles and burst open their 
 prison doors. But meanwhile, the jealous eye of ty- 
 ranny was not asleep ; it watched the movements of 
 its victims with the keenness of a long-cherished dis- 
 trust and the malice of anticipated revenge. When 
 these ill-laid plots of the Liberals were on the eve of 
 consummation, the government drove off those who 
 threatened the frontier from without, and seized their 
 unhappy associates within. The dungeons were 
 filled, and the hangman had a teeming harvest. 
 
 The execution of the unhappy Dona Maria at 
 Granada will have given the reader an idea of the 
 way in which the Spanish police deal with even the 
 suspected friends of free principles. Madrid had 
 also received several wholesome lessons of loyalty 
 from the executioner, and another victim was added 
 to the list while I was there. His name was Don 
 Jose Maria Torrecilla, a lieutenant-colonel in the 
 16* 
 
186 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 Spanish army, and in the prime of life, being about 
 thirty-five years of age. I believe he was a brother 
 of the poor fellow whom I have spoken of as being 
 shut up in the Carcel Militar at Seville, and who 
 was executed there about the same time. On this 
 point, however, I am not certain. Don Jose, it 
 seems, had been implicated in some constitutional 
 plots a few months previous, for which he was con- 
 demned to suffer death by the hands of the common 
 hangman in the Place of Barley, a spot which wit- 
 nessed the execution of Riego and many other pa- 
 triots. 
 
 When the day fixed for the execution of this 
 unfortunate man arrived, I was reminded of the 
 circumstance by hearing beneath the balcony the 
 voice of a brother of the society called the Paz y 
 Caridad, who, as he passed along, rang a bell to at- 
 tract the attention of the people, and then called 
 out, " Para bien y decir misas para et alma de aquel 
 pobre que sacan a justiciar ; que da quien puede, por 
 el amor de Dios ;" " For pious purposes, and to say 
 masses for the soul of the unhappy man who is to be 
 executed ; let him who can, give for the love of 
 God !" A cuarto was contributed here and there 
 
PAZ Y CARIDAD. 187 
 
 by those who came to the doors and balconies ; and 
 then the brother of charity passed on, ringing his 
 bell and repeating his petition. 
 
 From what I could learn respecting the fraternity 
 of Paz y Caridad, it is a very praiseworthy institu- 
 tion. Its members are principally private indivi- 
 duals, who join it from motives of religion and 
 benevolence, and its objects are entirely of a chari- 
 table nature. Thus, if a man be drowned, the 
 brothers of this order take the body, and endeavour 
 to restore it to life. They also minister to the wants 
 of criminals condemned to death, supplying them 
 with food and other comforts, and endeavouring to 
 console their last hours. On days of execution 
 some of the members go about the streets in the way 
 I have described, with a money-box and a bell ; 
 others may be seen stationed in various parts of the 
 town, under a black awning with drapery of the 
 same funereal character, having the arms of Spain 
 embroidered on it in gold. Here they sit at a little 
 table with a crucifix upon it, and a plate to receive 
 the contributions of the charitable. 
 
 The Plaza de Cebada, or Place of Barley, is, as 
 has been said, the scene of executions at Madrid. 
 
188 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 I had occasionally visited it on ordinary days, when 
 I found it filled with butchers and fat market-wo- 
 men, who were probably as worthy specimens of the 
 sex as those of the Plaza del Carmen. On the 
 morning of the execution of Torrecilla, I found the 
 appearance of the square quite changed by the pre- 
 parations for the approaching tragedy. In the cen- 
 tre was a gallows, consisting of two strong upright 
 posts and a crosspiece, from the middle of which 
 dangled a stout rope with a noose at the end. 
 Round the gallows was a body of infantry with 
 fixed bayonets, and without them a company of 
 horsemen with drawn sabres, their brass-covered 
 helmets glittering in the sun. A crowd of dirty ca- 
 nalla were also assembled ; some lounging about the 
 square, and others sitting on the pavement beside 
 the walls of the houses to shelter themselves from 
 the sun. At one corner of the Square was a bro- 
 ther of the Paz y Caridad, seated beneath a] black 
 awning of the fashion just described. On the table 
 before him, besides the image of the crucified Sa- 
 viour and the silver plate to receive contributions, 
 there was also a Franciscan friar's habit of coarse 
 gray cloth. This was to be the winding sheet of 
 the condemned. 
 
DEATH OF TORRECILLA. 189 
 
 From the Plaza de Cebada I passed along the 
 street of Toledo which leads to the prison. Here, 
 too, was assembled a motley crowd of people of the 
 lower orders, many of them women, and some with 
 infants in their arms. At the porch of a sandal 
 shop I observed a peasant and his wife, who, being 
 probably wearied by a long walk and the fatigue of 
 waiting, were refreshing themselves with a crust of 
 bread and a draught of wine from a leathern bottle. 
 The crowd, although of the poorest rabble, was or- 
 derly in its demeanour ; and there was an expres- 
 sion of anxious solemnity on the countenances of 
 many by which one could have seen they had not 
 been brought together by a gala or holiday exhibi- 
 tion. The silence was rarely broken but by the 
 noisy cries of the water-carriers, to whom a crowd 
 always brings a harvest. It was the same long- 
 drawn nasal cry of "agua ! agua !" that one hears all 
 day long in the streets of the capital. 
 
 As I approached the prison, which stands in the 
 Square of the Holy Cross, a crowd of priests, clad in 
 black vestments, and preceded by one who bore 
 a crucifix, crossed the Plaza and entered the prison. 
 As they went by every one uncovered his head, and 
 
190 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 the more devout knelt upon the ground. Soon after 
 the bell began to toll with a slow and prolonged 
 note from the tower of the Church of Santa Cruz. 
 At this signal a strong body of infantry and horse 
 formed at the porch of the prison. Torrecilla was 
 then brought forth and seated upon an ass, his 
 hands being bound. A friar in a coarse woollen habit, 
 with a shaven crown and a girdle of rope round his 
 waist, kept constantly beside him. In his hand he 
 bore a crucifix, which he held before the unhappy 
 man as if entreating him to look to the Saviour for 
 support in that trying hour. Whether sustained by 
 this religious confidence or by the reflection, that he 
 was perishing in a patriotic cause, he bore himself 
 with great firmness ; sitting erect on the ass, [and 
 even striking it in the flank with his heel to hasten 
 its steps. As they descended the street of Toledo 
 towards the place of execution, he was soon hidden 
 from my sight by the cavalry that surrounded him. 
 I could not bring myself to behold the execution, 
 and returned sadly homeward, bitterly execrating 
 the odious oppression which makes a desert of Spain 
 and slaves of her children ; which stigmatises ge- 
 nerosity as a crime ; singling out the magnani- 
 
SEQ.UEL OF AN EXECUTION. 191 
 
 mous and the free-hearted for imprisonment and 
 persecution, and dooming the patriot to die like a 
 felon on the gallows. 
 
 About sun-down I returned to the Plaza de Ce- 
 bada, and found the gallows still standing ; the dead 
 body was hanging from it, the neck greatly elongated, 
 the murderous rope having nearly buried itself in 
 the flesh by the tightness with which it was drawn. 
 The hands were black with the stagnation of the 
 blood, and all the features of the face dreadfully dis- 
 torted. From the neck hung a little picture of the 
 Virgin, and on the breast was fastened a large paper, 
 upon which was written in conspicuous characters 
 " For Traidor." There were many people collected 
 in the Plaza round the gallows, who were prevent- 
 ed from approaching it too closely by three or four 
 soldiers with fixed bayonets. The mob, as in the 
 morning, was almost entirely composed of ill-dressed 
 and vile canalla ; such a mob as one only sees in 
 Spain. Some of them stood looking silently and 
 seriously at the dead body, while a few others in- 
 dulged in a merriment very foreign to the occasion. 
 Among the latter were some Gallego porters, who 
 were cracking their coarse jokes and thumping each 
 
192 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 other with the ropes with which they carry their 
 burdens ; while two others of their companions 
 were engaged in a graver occupation, one shaving 
 the other who was seated on a water cask ; for these 
 poor fellows generally get shaved in the street, either 
 by each other or by itinerant barbers, who go about 
 with soap, razor, and copper basin. There were, 
 besides, soldiers off duty, who were smoking in 
 groups, and apparently in a very good humour ; and 
 old women squatting on the ground among the 
 crowd, with baskets of fried fish, fruit, or loaves of 
 bread, which they offered to the hungry with the 
 usual harsh, nasal cries. A little farther off were 
 the stalls of the butchers and the sellers of bread 
 and pork, interspersed with crowds of huckster-wo- 
 men; with vegetables of all sorts piled in heaps on 
 the ground. These were higgling with their cus- 
 tomers, wrangling with each other, or dealing out 
 rough jokes with much noise and bustle, and other- 
 wise showing as perfect an insensibility to the re- 
 cent tragedy as if the dead man were hanging a 
 hundred miles off. 
 
 Among the crowd around the gallows were many 
 blind men ; some calling out ballads and accounts of 
 
BALLAD SINGERS. 193 
 
 miracles, which they had for sale ; others reciting: 
 devotional hymns, two standing together, leaning on 
 their long staffs and relieving each other alternately 
 from couplet to couplet. Most of these blind men 
 were very well dressed for Spanish beggars, except 
 one young man, whose clothing consisted of nothing 
 more than a tattered pair of breeches, which seemed 
 rather intended to excuse than to cover his naked- 
 ness, and a dirty piece of blanket drawn over his 
 shoulder. He appeared to have lost his eyes by 
 some loathsome disease, which had attacked other 
 parts of his face ; and he was altogether so disgusting 
 an object, that every one shrank from him as he 
 groped his way along. 
 
 The most accomplished in his profession of all 
 these unfortunate blind men was an old fellow, who 
 
 moved about with much industry among the crowd, 
 
 
 vociferating, with great energy and with untiring 
 
 lungs, " At two cuartos, a paper which has been 
 lately published ; the Condemned Damsel, in which 
 is described the rigorous punishment which God in- 
 flicted on the said unhappy girl ; who, for disobe- 
 dience to her parents was cut into bits by the devil ; 
 with the rest which the curious reader will see." 
 
 17 
 
194 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 Then changing his tone into one more devout, 
 " When will pass by a devout person, who will or- 
 der me to say a pious prayer for the ease and rest 
 of this poor brother, the guilty defunct ?" Presently 
 hearing another blind man near him, he approach- 
 ed the place from which the voice came, and greet- 
 ing his companion, said, " Antonio, my old boy, how 
 goes the trade ?" " Bad," replied the other ; " to-day 
 I have not sold enough to buy a two-penny loaf. Wilt 
 thou pay for a cup of wine ? let us go to the tavern 
 of Juanito ; for this afternoon the people have no de- 
 votion ; thus will the devil carry them off." For 
 the sake of encouraging the discontented " ciego," I 
 put the requisite number of copper pieces in his 
 hand, and selected from his bundle one of the mi- 
 racles, and also " The new relation and veracious 
 
 romance, in which is set forth the account of the 
 
 % 
 
 doings and atrocities executed by six Jews and five 
 Jewesses in the town of Llerena ; sacrificing four 
 infant martyrs, two friars, and one woman ;" embel- 
 lished also with a wood-cut frontispiece, exhibiting 
 two of the calumniated Jews, dressed out in cloak 
 and doublet, after the old Spanish fashion. 
 
 After a little while some shabby-looking brothers 
 
FUNERAL OF THE EXECUTED. 195 
 
 of the Paz y Caridad arrived. The rope was loosen- 
 ed above, and the dead man was let down on a table 
 put beneath the gallows. Then they stripped off the 
 stockings and slippers and untied the ropes with 
 which the legs and hands had been bound. They 
 also put on the corpse a coarse, gray gown, like a 
 Franciscan friar's habit, turning the dead man over 
 on his face, in order to sew it behind. This done, 
 the body was put into a sort of coffin uncovered at 
 the top, which was placed upon the table with a 
 large lantern at either side. These arrangements 
 had not been long made, when the churches began 
 to toll for the " oraciones," or evening devotions ; and 
 presently a long procession, with lanterns and can- 
 dles, filed into the square ; its appearance having 
 been previously announced by the tinkling of a 
 small bell. All the crowd at once took off their hats, 
 and some muttered a prayer. The procession was 
 composed of a long, double line of men, women, and 
 children, most of them very dirty, ill-dressed people. 
 Each of them carried either a paper lantern sup- 
 ported on the end of a stick, or a candle held in the 
 hand, which was large or small according to the de- 
 votion or frugality of the party ; some were as thick 
 
196 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 and as long as bludgeons, and others no bigger than 
 a quill. Of the latter sort, as being better propor- 
 tioned to their size, were those carried by sundry 
 little urchins, the worthy representatives of that well- 
 known personage Dickie Dont. Many of these 
 devotees, as they marched along with very solemn 
 faces, busied themselves with catching the grease as 
 it fell from the candles by holding the hand under- 
 neath ; an exhibition of economy which produced a 
 very odd eifect. In the rear of the light-bearers 
 came a priest in his richly embroidered robes, bear- 
 ing the emblem of the faith upon the breast of his 
 garment; with him were several other religious 
 functionaries, whose costly vestments formed a 
 strange contrast with the squalidness of the crowd. 
 
 When they came under the gallows, they said a 
 short prayer; after which the dead man and his 
 coffin were lifted upon the shoulders of half a dozen 
 men, who got rid of the incumbrance of their hats 
 by putting them on the body. Then the whole 
 procession moved off, the priests and coffin follow- 
 ing in the rear, and the way being cleared by sol- 
 diers. Many men, women and children joined the 
 line as it passed along, lighting their candles, 
 
FUNERAL OP THE EXECUTED. 197 
 
 lanterns, and tapers by those of the others ; and thus 
 the unfortunate revolutionist was carried to his 
 grave. The reason of this procession is found in 
 the seven years' indulgence granted by Leo X. to 
 all those who shall console condemned persons in 
 their last moments, and accompany them to the 
 grave after execution. A board, with a long list of 
 indulgences granted by various pontiffs to the 
 brothers of our Lady of Charity, and our Lady of 
 Peace, and to other faithful Christians, is hung up 
 always on days of execution at the door of the 
 church of Santa Cruz, near the prison, containing al- 
 so at the bottom this significant note : " Han de tenet 
 la bula de la Santa Cruzada ;" that is to say, that in 
 order to reap the advantage of these indulgences, it 
 is necessary to have the Bull of the Holy Crusade. 
 Now this Bull costs the devout applicant three reals, 
 or fifteen cents, and it is a very great source of re- 
 venue. This Bull has the virtue not only of put- 
 ting the holder on the high-road to Heaven, but also 
 fortifies his stomach on the journey, by enabling him 
 to eat eggs and butter on certain seasons, on which, 
 without this document, he would have to restrain 
 himself entirely to vegetable fare. 
 17* 
 
198 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 As to the soundness of the principles of the 
 Catholic Church let theologians differ ; they must at 
 least agree on one point ; the singularly imposing 
 character of her ceremonies. It may be said that 
 the educated man, or rather the educated Protestant, 
 may find many of its rites an idle mummery ; but 
 let it be remembered that the minds of the vulgar 
 are ever taken by outward show, and as these form 
 every where so preponderating a class, it is no won- 
 der that it should go far towards inspiring that un- 
 qualified and exclusive attachment which Catholics 
 feel to their faith. Let the Protestant enter any 
 church in a Catholic country, be it the proud temple 
 of St. Peter or the obscure sanctuary of a starveling 
 Spanish village, he will see the awe-inspiring power 
 of that ritual displayed in the solemn and contrite 
 demeanour of every individual who kneels humbly 
 and silently before the altar. 
 
 Another circumstance which equally attracts the 
 attention of the Protestant traveller, is, if I may so 
 say, the ubiquity of religion in Catholic countries. 
 It meets his eye not only in the churches and con- 
 vents, but at every step in the public streets. Some- 
 times it is a simple cross nailed over the porch to 
 
RELIGION IN SPAIN. 199 
 
 bless the house and keep away the devil ; sometimes 
 a coarse picture on the wall of the Holy Mary, with 
 a lamp or a taper flickering before it, and votive offer- 
 ings hung around it ; sometimes an inscription, in- 
 voking the Mother of God : " Ave Maria purisima 
 sin pecado concebida" "Hail, Mary most pure, con- 
 ceived without sin." Then there are those piously 
 importunate gentry, the beggars, who never ask a 
 cuarto but for the Virgin's sake, nor receive one 
 without promising she will pay it back again. 
 Moreover, as the traveller walks the streets he is 
 ever and anon reminded of the approach of the Host 
 by the tinkling of a bell, when, if he have a decent 
 respect for the prejudices of those amongst whom he 
 sojourns, he will, like them, kneel upon the pave- 
 ment till the priest that bears the consecrated symbol 
 has passed by. Thus in a great variety of ways he 
 who travels in Spain is constantly reminded of the 
 pervading and universal influence of religion over 
 the minds of the people. 
 
 I have just alluded to the bearing of the Host 
 through the street. This is a spectacle of every day 
 occurrence ; but in spite of its frequency, it always 
 inspired me with a certain feeling of solemnity. 
 
200 SCENES IN SPAIN, 
 
 h 
 
 This was partly owing to the contagion of example ; 
 for every one kneels, and assumes a devotional air 
 when these processions pass. But it was still more 
 inspired by the consideration that some one was on 
 the border of the dark valley of the shadow of death, 
 to whom in his last hour the minister of God was 
 bearing the consoling symbol of the crucifixion. It 
 seems to me there is something more solemn in this 
 than in the funeral obsequies which are to follow it ; 
 just as one looks with greater interest on the poor 
 criminal who is led forth pale and trembling to exe- 
 cution, than on his blackened corse after he has paid 
 the stern penalty of the law. 
 
 I have already briefly described a procession of 
 this sort at Granada ; at Madrid one sometimes sees 
 them on a more expensive scale. I was sitting in 
 my room one evening when I heard the sound of 
 trumpets in the street. Bibiana presently came run- 
 ning from the balcony to tell me that " Dios estaba 
 pasando," that "God was passing by." I was at first 
 somewhat startled by this unexpected intelligence ; 
 but a moment's reflection suggested that my little 
 landlady meant the Host, which among Catholics is 
 considered the real body of the Saviour. On going 
 
PROCESSION OF THE HOST. 201 
 
 to the window I found a large procession of private 
 persons, and also of officers in full dress, who bore 
 tapers in their hands, and were accompanied by the 
 customary flanking party of gleaners. Between the 
 two lines of light-bearers was a small band of musi- 
 cians in military attire, and behind them an old-fash- 
 ioned coach drawn by mules, in which sat a priest 
 in his rich sacerdotal robes, glittering with embroid- 
 ery of gold. Officers on either side of the vehicle 
 held the handle of the door latch. Thus they passed 
 to the sound of solemn music, descending the street 
 of the Gentleman of Grace till they came to the man- 
 sion of the Marquis of Castelar, to whose sister the 
 sacrament was to be given. When this consolation 
 had been administered to the dying lady, they return- 
 ed, passing up the same street to the church of Saint 
 Louis. The number of lights on these occasions is 
 proportioned to the wealth and pride of the sick per- 
 son's family ; for it is considered that the dignity of 
 the house is involved in the quantity of wax 
 expended. 
 
202 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 JOURNEY TO ZARAGOZA. 
 
 AFTER spending two months at Madrid, I started 
 for the war-worn old town of Zaragoza, so renown- 
 ed for the heroic bravery and devoted patriotism of 
 its inhabitants. It was a dull, stormy morning when 
 I bade adieu to my lodgings in the street of the 
 Gentleman of Grace. I felt, indeed, some reluctance 
 to go, as I looked out of the window upon the rain 
 which was falling heavily, and then at the bright 
 eyes of my Spanish landlady. But my trunk, after 
 all the ado of packing and cramming, was already on 
 the shoulder of a sturdy Gallego ; and my seat was 
 taken in the morning's diligence. 
 
 There was no rescource. I received and recipro- 
 cated in my best and tenderest Spanish Bibiana's 
 farewell wishes of " Feliz viage," and " Dios guarde 
 a usted" "a prosperous voyage, God guard you," 
 and then hurried away through the rain to the office 
 of the diligence. 
 
ROBBERY OF AN AMBASSADOR. 203 
 
 The dulness of the day brought to my mind cer- 
 tain equally dull forebodings of bandits, and broken 
 bones, and baggage confiscated by the lords of the 
 highway, those bugbears of the traveller in the Pe- 
 ninsula. These agreeable associations were assisted 
 by a story I had heard, but a day or two before, of 
 the ill-luck that had befallen no less a personage 
 than the ambassador from the haughty potentate of 
 Russia. It seems he was coming from France to 
 the Spanish court, and very imprudently travelled 
 in his own carriage ; a sure method to attract the 
 attention of the banditti. Though he might have 
 made some sacrifice of dignity, he certainly would 
 have consulted better the safety of his purse and per- 
 son had he come in the diligence, or even have been 
 quietly drawn along in a wagon by a string of snail- 
 paced mules, as is the wont of travellers in this ill- 
 regulated country. At a league or two from the 
 capital, and, as it were, under the nose of the mo- 
 narch to whose court he was going, he was stopped 
 and plundered. The robbers received some twenty 
 ounces in gold, besides the watches and jewelry of 
 the ambassador and his companions ; but as they 
 knew he was an ambassador, they did not think 
 
204 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 that this could be all the money he had in his pos- 
 session ; they accordingly regaled him with a volley 
 of threats and insults, clamouring loudly for the 
 rest of his funds, which they insisted must be some- 
 where concealed. Not contented with the assevera- 
 tions of the ill-starred envoy, they fell to rummaging 
 his trunks and papers ; and having at last satisfied 
 themselves that there was no more money to be had, 
 they dismissed him with hard words and harder 
 blows, as a salutary lesson that an ambassador should 
 travel with a very long purse where there was a 
 chance of meeting with highwaymen capable, like 
 themselves, of appreciating his rank and importance. 
 We found the diligence at the door of the bureau 3 
 and the postillion had just finished harnessing and 
 attaching to it seven long-eared and smoothly shaven 
 mules, with bells round their necks and tawdry or- 
 naments of red and white cotton dangling from their 
 heads ; together with a single horse, equipped with 
 an old-fashioned saddle of Moorish shape, rising 
 high at the back and pummel, and having wide 
 stirrups of iron. The postillion wore breeches of 
 coarse brown cloth, and gaiters of black leather gar- 
 nished with white bell-buttons, a red sash round his 
 
DEPARTURE FOR ZARAGOZA. 205 
 
 waist, with a low-crowned hat with a broad brim 
 rolled up all round and trimmed with beads and 
 velvet. His stout, weather-proof jacket of black 
 sheepskin, with the wool worn outwards, was fas- 
 tened by large brass clasps. The mayoral, or driver, 
 was arranging the baggage on the top of the dili- 
 gence, to which conspicuous height he ascended by 
 a long ladder. His dress was the same as the 
 postillion's, except that he wore a jacket of brown 
 cloth, with the collar quaintly adorned with alter- 
 nate patches of white and red, and having other 
 parti-coloured pieces at the sides and elbows, not to 
 mention a flaming red rose embroidered on the back. 
 The passengers were assembled at the door of the 
 diligence, with their friends who had come to take 
 leave of them. Among them was an officer of the 
 army, with a pair of mustaches of most ferocious 
 length. He seemed as imperative and consequential 
 as an Ethiopian emperor, and dealt out a volley of or- 
 ders to the mayoral and his men about his sword-case 
 and his epaulet-box, the case which contained his 
 cocked hat, and his night-bag and portmanteau. 
 There was also a buxom maid of Zaragoza, who was 
 crying, and in a very downcast humour, which I 
 18 
 
206 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 knew not whether to attribute to her regret at 
 taking leave of her mother or of a broad-shoul- 
 dered lieutenant, who may have been her lover. 
 I might, perhaps, have solved the problem more 
 satisfactorily, had we not been suddenly summon- 
 ed by the loud voice of the mayoral, who sup- 
 plied with his own cries" the place of a stage-horn. 
 At the words of " Vamos, vamos, caballeros !" each 
 hurried to his seat, amidst a shower of pious com- 
 mendations by his friends to God's guardianship ; 
 the mayoral mounted briskly to his box, the pos- 
 tillion bestrode the single horse, and away we hur- 
 ried at a gallop ; the rattling of the wheels being 
 drowned by the crazy whooping and hallooing of 
 the mayoral and zagal, who are always the noisiest 
 fellows in the world. 
 
 We drove rapidly down the broad street of Alcala 
 and across the Prado, now as solitary and deserted 
 as it is gay and frequented at the sunset hour of the 
 Paseo. Before the barracks, hard by, a regiment of 
 troops of the line were drawn out for the morning's 
 muster. To defend them from the unmerciful pelt- 
 ing of the rain, they were snugly clad in gray 
 capotes, and had an effective and soldier-like ap- 
 
DEPARTURE FOR ZARAGOZA. 207 
 
 pearance, far surpassing the ill-clad and slovenly 
 troops of the provinces. Presently we passed through 
 the beautiful gate of Alcala, built by Charles III, the 
 only worthy monarch this hapless country has 
 known for many years ; then by the silent amphi- 
 theatre, where, in the weekly exhibition of the bull- 
 fight, that cruel but exciting spectacle, the Spaniard 
 momentarily forgets the poverty of which he is too 
 benighted to divine the source. If the sufferings and 
 degradation of humanity, under any circumstances, 
 deserve the compassion of all benevolent minds, how 
 much more must that sympathy be excited in the 
 case of a generous nation, so worthy of a better fate, 
 yet so hopelessly wedded to misfortune ; for where, 
 but in the changes and chances of a far-distant futu- 
 rity can we look for any amelioration of the misery 
 of those who are now as incapable of applying the 
 antidote as they are ignorant of the cause and cha- 
 racter of their disease ? 
 
 Once without the walls, we were immediately in 
 the country ; for Madrid, like almost all Spanish towns, 
 has no suburbs ; a circumstance but too satisfacto- 
 rily explained by the miserable state of the police 
 and the consequent insecurity, Scarcely a dwelling 
 
208 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 was to be seen to cheer this deserted scene. "We 
 had passed, in a few minutes, from a populous city 
 to a silent wilderness. Here and there we met 
 groups of grave peasants, mounted on melancholy 
 asses, and closely wrapped in their mud-coloured 
 cloaks, driving before them trains of beasts, laden 
 with skins of wine, or straw panniers filled with 
 vegetables. 
 
 At a league from the capital we entered the sad 
 town of Torrejon. The houses were very low, and 
 built of unhewn stones, roughly covered with a dirty 
 plaster ; which, having fallen off in many places, gave 
 them a ruinous and poverty-stricken appearance ; 
 most of them had a wooden cross suspended by a 
 chain over the portal, and swinging restlessly in the 
 wind. The names of the inns, too, seemed to show 
 it to be a pious pueblo ; for one might see such 
 signs as " Parador de San Antonio," or " Parador nu- 
 evo de Dios, con todas conveniencias para carmage- 
 ros, pasageros, y arrieros," " The inn of Saint An- 
 thony, or the new inn of God, with all conve- 
 niences for cartmen, passengers, and muleteers." Just 
 without this humble village stood a little brick her- 
 mitage or oratory, containing the image of the Vir- 
 
THE INQUISITIVE ALCALDE. 209 
 
 gin, and having a stone cross planted in the ground 
 in front of it. Thither the devout go annually to 
 pray during the season of Lent ; and if they con- 
 sider the sins of the past year to merit an unusual 
 share of penitential mortification, they walk bare- 
 footed. 
 
 I had two companions in the berlina of the dili- 
 gence ; one was an empleado, or person in the civil 
 employ of the government at Zaragoza, and the other 
 the Alcalde mayor of Guadalaxara. The latter was 
 a thin, shrivelled little man, of an unprepossessing 
 mien, and the most inquisitive fellow in the world. 
 I know not whether this inquisitiveness was natural 
 with him, or was a habit acquired in his official 
 functions, which, of course, brought him into contact 
 with all the rogues and scape-graces of Guadalaxara, 
 and demanded, too, his constant and jealous vigi- 
 lance against those pests of legitimacy, the negros, 
 or liberals, whom all loyal officers and subjects of 
 Ferdinand are bound to hate and pursue as so ma- 
 ny highwaymen and assassins. The curious Al- 
 calde soon discovered a marvellous inclination for 
 prying into my history and affairs. " Is your wor- 
 ship a merchant ?" (C No, Sefior." " Are you going 
 18* 
 
210 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 to Zaragoza ?" " Probably." " Do you mean to 
 stay long there?" "I do not know." "Is your 
 worship a militar?" No, Sefior." "Are you a 
 merchant ?" " I am not." " Are you going to live 
 at Barcelona?" "I cannot say." "Are you an 
 Englishman?" "No." 
 
 The poor Alcalde was quite thrown out by my 
 mischievous monosyllables, and seemed to think me a 
 desperate subject ; for he took a hurried pinch of snuff 
 from a big silver box, with a certain baffled dubious 
 air, and turned his attack upon his other fellow-pas- 
 senger, who proved a more pliable witness. These 
 two worthies in the course of half an hour had let 
 each other into the whole history of their family 
 affairs. Nay, the placeman entertained us with a 
 very long and melancholy account of a severe in- 
 firmity which he had suffered many years before, 
 and from which, with God's blessing, he had at 
 length recovered, after having taken, according to a 
 memorandum kept by his wife, just fifty-five emetics 
 and eighty-two purgatives ; not to mention syrups, 
 ptisans, and leeching, nor the misery of paying away 
 irrecoverably so many good ducats to the apothecary 
 
REMINISCENCE OP CERVANTES. 211 
 
 for drugs, to the barber for bleeding him, and the 
 doctor for feeling his pulse and looking at his 
 tongue. 
 
 At a few miles from the dull village of Torrejon, 
 we came in sight of the old-fashioned spires and tur- 
 rets of Alcala. It wore but a dull and dusty as- 
 pect ; yet I could not but feel a certain interest in 
 passing a town which deserves to be for ever re- 
 membered as the birth-place of Cervantes, that rare 
 genius, whom all the world join in praising, and 
 whom his own country idolized after his death, 
 though she treated him during his life with a step- 
 mother's unkindness and neglect. I was now pass- 
 ing the birth-place of the historian of Don Quixote. 
 The day before, in Madrid, I had snatched an hour 
 from the hurry of my departure to visit the house in 
 which he died. In the street of the Lion, at the 
 corner of the street of the Franks, the admirer of 
 the poet, the soldier, the man of honour, and the 
 biographer of the immortal knight of La Mancha, 
 may see the room where he lived in obscure poverty ; 
 where he received, in his last hour, the consolation 
 of that religion whose principles he valued, though 
 he sometimes ridiculed its unworthy perversions ; and 
 
212 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 where he closed his unfortunate but honourable life. 
 I could not trace the mortal remains of genius to 
 their last resting-place, for the grave where they lie 
 is unknown ; it has only been ascertained that they 
 are interred somewhere in the convent of the Trini- 
 tarian nuns in Madrid, without a stone or epitaph to 
 mark the spot. 
 
 At Guadalaxara, formerly a very flourishing town, 
 we stopped at a posada to get a starveling din- 
 ner. In the time of the good Charles III. this place 
 was noted for the fabric of cloths. The spacious 
 edifice in which they were made assembled daily 
 within its walls ten thousand artisans. The looms 
 are now silent, the town is hurrying to decay, and 
 the Royal Fabric of Guadalaxara, as I was told by 
 the innkeeper, now gives employment to four per- 
 sons, whose duty it is to keep the doors and win- 
 dows closed, and shut out the wind and weather. 
 This is a forcible, but. not a solitary instance of 
 the national decline. Does not the traveller see it 
 every where staring him in the face? In the filth 
 of the inn, where he sits down on a three-legged 
 stool to eat a dirty meal from a dirtier dish, and lies 
 down to sleep in a cheerless chamber amid swarms 
 
GUADALAXARA. 213 
 
 of bugs and fleas ? Does he not see it written in me- 
 lancholy characters on the ruinous mud-hovels of 
 the pueblos that here and there break the solitude 
 of his journey? in the deserted plains that stretch 
 for miles and miles, with scarce a solitary symptom 
 of habitation and culture ; and in the squalid attire, 
 and the sad countenances of an oppressed peasantry? 
 As soon as we had hastily despatched a comfort- 
 less meal, we were summoned by the mayoral to the 
 diligence, an escape from the filth of the Posada, 
 which we were not, however, permitted to make till 
 we had paid the watchful hostess, who stood at the 
 doorway with a leathern purse, a sum for which, 
 in France, we should have had an alderman's din- 
 ner. As we entered the vehicle, we were suppli- 
 cated for alms by a gray-bearded beggar, dressed in 
 a wild garb of sheepskins, with the ragged fleece 
 worn outwards, and who supported his trembling 
 and starved form with a long staff. There was 
 something touching in the old man's entreaty, of 
 " Caballero deme usted una limosnita por el amor 
 de Dios y Maria Santisima ?" " Cavalier, will your 
 worship give me a little alms for the love of God 
 and the Most Holy Mary ?" 
 
214 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 t 
 
 I now found myself alone with the placeman of 
 Zaragoza ; for that inquisitive dignitary, the Alcalde 
 of Guadalaxara, left us there with the customary 
 compliments and good wishes for our prosperous 
 journey. My companion, who, though employed 
 and fed by Ferdinand, was a thorough-bred Liberal 
 in his notions, took advantage of his departure to 
 talk on subjects which a Spaniard seldom broaches 
 to his own countrymen, unless he knows his man. 
 Our conversation fell upon the priesthood. "A 
 good life of it," said he, " do these worthies lead, with 
 the fat of the land to eat, and tight roofs to shelter 
 their shaven crowns, warm raiment to cover them, 
 and fire to warm them, and wine to make them 
 merry withal ; the best mules to ride, and the pret- 
 tiest women to flirt with. Good heed do they take 
 to gather in the dismes ; the tenth arroba of wheat, 
 the tenth measure of garbanzos, the tenth arroba 
 of oil, and, in short, the tenth of all the poor la- 
 bourer has gained by the sweat of his own brow 
 and the labour of his own hands. For these holy 
 men of the black cloak and long sombrero are 
 too much occupied with the pious labours of mass 
 and confessional to take a part in the ploughing, 
 
PHILIPPIC AGAINST ECCLESIASTICS. 215 
 
 the sowing, and the reaping of the crop ; it is at 
 the gathering into the garner that they make their 
 ill-starred appearance. Then comes the well-fed 
 cure to receive the tenth of the poor peasant's 
 harvest, preaching him, of course, a pious sermon on 
 the duty of exactness in paying* God's portion, and 
 enforcing the exhortation by recounting the marvel- 
 lous event that befel, in such or such a village ; how 
 Pedro's crops were blasted by the anger of the Al- 
 mighty, or how the close-fisted Antonio was carried 
 off by devils, body and soul, because he had cheated 
 the church." 
 
 After this philippic against the ecclesiastics, and 
 after recounting their various other resources besides 
 the disme for getting the people's money, he branch- 
 ed off into a satire against the general corruption 
 among the men in office from one end of Spain to 
 the other, of which, indeed, his own recent visit to 
 the capital furnished an illustration. It seems that 
 by a royal decree, the servants of the government 
 are forbid to leave their respective residences to 
 come to the capital, whither they were wont to re- 
 sort in eager swarms in quest of advancement to 
 the neglect of their official duties. Our Zaragozian 
 
2L6 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 wanted, for some reason or other, to go to Madrid. 
 He accordingly obtained, under the plea of ill-health, 
 a royal order, authorizing him to go to certain mi- 
 neral baths which were to be found in a village be- 
 yond Madrid ; to get to them, it was necessary to 
 pass through the capital ; when he reached the me- 
 tropolis, he did not find his ailment sufficiently press- 
 ing to require him to accomplish his journey, so he 
 housed himself quietly there. Meanwhile it was 
 necessary to administer an opiate to the Cerberus 
 of the police. An ounce of gold set this right, and 
 he remained without molestation. 
 
 At ten o'clock at night we halted at the inn of 
 Saint Anthony, in[ the village of Grajalejos. The 
 inn-keeper and his wife, the kitchen-maid and the 
 hostler, with old-fashioned lamps in their hands, hur- 
 ried to the door to receive us. We had arrived out 
 of time ; partridge and puchero, the hare and boiled 
 pulse, had been waiting for hours to be eaten ; and 
 we were at once assailed with anxious inquiries if 
 we had met with robbers, or if any other harm had 
 befallen us. The passengers quieted their apprehen- 
 sions on this score, but besought the sallow ventera, 
 if she had any regard for their stomachs, to have 
 
JOURNEY TO ZARAGOZA. 217 
 
 the supper forthcoming with all convenient speed. 
 Meantime we mustered in the kitchen to warm our- 
 selves by a crackling fire of brush-wood and grape- 
 vine sticks, glad to escape the jolting of the dili- 
 gence and the cold air of the evening. Supper over, 
 each stole a half hour from the little time allotted 
 for sleep to smoke his paper cigar, after which we 
 separated with mutual commendations to God and 
 good wishes for a sound repose. This fatigue en- 
 abled us to realize, in spite of the interrupters which 
 gathered about and sorely beset us. 
 
 In the morning at peep of day, the mayoral 
 roused his sleeping charge ; and after we had taken, 
 with half-open eyes, the customary cup of chocolate, 
 four pair of mules hurried us away at a gallop. 
 Our postillion was one of the oddest-looking fellows 
 in the world. To protect himself from the rain, he 
 had drawn over his other clothes a pair of sheep- 
 skin breeches, with the long wool unshorn and worn 
 outwards, and a jacket of the same material, of 
 which the body and sleeve were white and the 
 other black. Robinson Crusoe in his goat-skin gar- 
 ments could not have cut a more fantastic figure. 
 19 
 
218 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 This sort of attire is much used by travellers and 
 roadsters, and if made with neatness and of the 
 skins of young lambs, is not an ungraceful dress. 
 But those worn by the poor are often nothing more 
 than a couple of skins from some shaggy patriarchs 
 of the herd, rudely fashioned, with a hole to thrust 
 the head through, and a couple of bags for the arms. 
 Such was the primitive sort of garment worn by our 
 postillion, who looked, in the obscure twilight, not 
 unlike a white bear mounted on horseback. 
 
 After a long ride through a hard storm, we reach- 
 ed the miserable venta of Esteras. At the door were 
 assembled the people of the inn, and a group of poor 
 peasants hid in their coarse brown cloaks or striped 
 mantas, and having their feet and legs wrapped in 
 brown woollen rags secured with sandals and thongs 
 of hide. Poor, however, as they were, some of them 
 had contrived to obtain that favourite luxury of the 
 Spaniard, the paper cigarillo. Here we should 
 have found a dinner prepared : but the venter a, it 
 seemed, had not expected us. Upon this the ma- 
 yoral fell to abusing her in very plain Spanish, giv- 
 ing vent to a volley of coarse oaths, which, though 
 the low-born Spaniard has them ever in his mouth, 
 
IMPROMPTU BREAKFAST. 219 
 
 and considers them, in short, as indispensable parts 
 of speech, would sound odd and ill enough to En- 
 glish ears in the shape of a translation. The ven- 
 tera on her part was not to be brow-beaten ; she 
 gave him as good as his own, raising her voice to its 
 sharpest key, and tossing her arms about in the 
 air with wonderful vivacity. 
 
 At last the mayoral, seeing that his passengers were 
 but little edified by this battle of hard words, which 
 were neither victuals nor drink to their hungry 
 stomachs, proposed that we should seek something 
 to eat in the neighbouring pueblo at a place where 
 the diligence had formerly stopped. Here we found 
 an old house, or rather hovel, where a sharp-fea- 
 tured old crone, with blood-shot eyes and strag- 
 gling gray hair, was cooking her pot of rice, cab- 
 bage, and garbanzos, over a fire of grape-vine sticks 
 and roots of bushes. She received us with a mix- 
 ture of ill-humour at the trouble she was to have, 
 and of satisfaction at the anticipated reals our unex- 
 pected visit brought her. Four or five pigeons were 
 presently beheaded, which the passengers assisted 
 her in picking as they gathered round the kitchen 
 fire to dry themselves. A child was despatched to the 
 
220 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 neighbouring shop with a leathern bottle and a basket 
 to buy wine and vegetables ; and, in short, in half 
 an hour we sat down to a meal, which, if it was not 
 fit for princes, as the old woman boasted, served 
 at least to quell the cravings of hunger. The 
 repast was served on a deal table, which did 
 us good service though lame of a leg. A horn 
 spoon was provided for each passenger, and a single 
 jack-knife went the round with those of us who had 
 none of our own. The room had a mud floor, was 
 lighted by one little window, not of glass but of 
 oiled parchment, and the walls were garnished with 
 a wooden crucifix, and two or three coarse wood-cuts 
 of saints and virgins. 
 
 The storm was still piping away, when we got 
 again into the diligence ; and the road had become 
 so bad from the excessive rain, that the mules had 
 much ado to drag us along. At last, as we were 
 ascending a hill, on a steep crag of which stood an 
 old and ruinous castle of the Moors or Goths, my 
 attention was suddenly diverted from the picturesque 
 scenery by the shouts, whooping, and imprecations 
 of the mayoral and zagal. The diligence had planted 
 its clumsy wheels so deeply in the mud that there was 
 
INVOLUNTARY HALT. 221 
 
 no budging them. In vain did the master and man 
 administer blows to the poor mules without mercy, 
 now cheering them with encouraging appellations, 
 and anon denouncing them as daughters of the devil. 
 In vain did they appeal to Maria Santisima, and San 
 Antonio de la Vega, and the eleven thousand virgins. 
 Like the gods of Baal, they gave no heed to their 
 complaints. Here then we stuck, foundered in the 
 mud, for several hours, till the empleado of Zaragoza, 
 who had started on one of the mules in search of the 
 nearest inn, and had missed his way in the darkness, 
 at last arrived with a reinforcement of five beasts. 
 With this assistance the unwilling diligence was 
 dragged from its stronghold in the mire, and we 
 resumed our journey. 
 
 But fresh troubles awaited us a few leagues farther 
 on ; the ill-starred vehicle again stuck fast, and 
 leaned over at such a fearful angle, that the pas- 
 sengers hurried out with all despatch, like rats 
 from a falling house. A sort of council was held 
 on the open heath ; and, as usually happens in all 
 deliberative bodies, there was a great variety of opi- 
 nions. Most of the passengers at length determined 
 to brave the storm on foot as far as the next inn. 
 19* 
 
222 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 The maid of Zaragoza, and her protector, the fierce- 
 whiskered and imperious officer, pitched a sort of 
 tent on the dryest spot they could find by the road- 
 side with their cloaks and the cushions of the dili- 
 gence. For myself, as I relished neither the muddy 
 walk nor encamping in the open air, I returned to 
 the diligence, determined to wait with resignation 
 for the arrival of succour, and run the risk of an 
 upset as the better of the sorry alternatives. After 
 some time the postillion, who had been sent forward 
 to the inn, returned with the intelligence, that by the 
 life of Santiago the Apostle, he could get no assist- 
 ance till morning. He offered me his mule to ride 
 to the inn, which I gladly accepted ; for the rain had 
 now ceased, and the truant stars were peeping out 
 again in the sky through the drifting clouds. 
 
 A half hour brought me to the venta of Huerta, 
 a large stone building, newly erected by the monks 
 of the neighbouring and wealthy convent of Domi- 
 nicans. Alighting in the stable, which, as usual in 
 Spanish inns, formed a part of the house, I hurried 
 away to the kitchen to warm my feet and make a per- 
 sonal representation to the hostess of the state of 
 my stomach, which, after a fast of sixteen hours, 
 
VENTA OF HUERTA. 223 
 
 clamoured loudly for consolation. In the middle 
 of a large room I found a stone platform or hearth, 
 raised a few inches above the plaster floor, upon 
 which crackled a brisk fire of brush-wood and 
 charcoal. Over it depended from the roof a large 
 wooden funnel, such as one may see in miniature 
 in a chemist's laboratory ; through this the smoke 
 curled lazily upward, stopping occasionally to puff 
 in the faces of the company before it took its leave. 
 On the hearth were arranged various pots, pans, and 
 pipkins, whose comfortable simmering assured us 
 that something was going on within. Around the 
 fire was collected a motley group of the guests and 
 people of the venta. Here were some of our way- 
 worn and drowsy passengers, who were taking cho- 
 colate out of little cups, into which they dipped thin 
 slices of bread. There were also two ragged soldiers 
 of the line, with their corporal, whose rank was dis- 
 tinguished by his cotton epaulet. A crust of bread 
 and an onion^was the frugal fare which they washed 
 down with some wine. Beside them sat a postillion, 
 with his gay jacket and breeches well splashed with 
 mud, a cosario or wagoner in an equally sorry 
 plight, and a number of Madrilenian women, who 
 
224 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 had come passengers in a galera, and were now dis- 
 puting in high words with the ventera about the 
 price of their lodging and puchero. As for the ven- 
 tero or inn-keeper, who made a conspicuous figure 
 in this odd picture, he was a tall, portly old fellow, 
 with a lively Spanish eye, and features which denot- 
 ed a mixture of shrewdness and good-humour. He 
 was dressed in a coarse velvet jacket and breeches 5 
 and his legs, whose comely proportions many a Ma- 
 drid courtier would have been proud to display at a 
 royal kissing of hands, were comfortably shrouded 
 in a pair of blue woollen stockings. This worthy 
 sat warming his outstretched hands over the fire, 
 leaving his wife to battle with the thrifty guests of 
 the galera, from a confidence, doubtless, in her supe- 
 rior eloquence on such occasions. After this import- 
 ant account was settled, I seized the opportunity of 
 acquainting the high-tempered mistress of the inn 
 with my famished condition, and requested, as 
 blandly as possible 3 her good offices. A table was 
 presently spread for me, with some soup, a pair of 
 new-laid eggs, and the second edition of a joint of 
 meat, put forth in the shape of a stew, with garlic and 
 tomatoes ; a preparation known in Andalusia by the 
 
CONVENT OF ST. BERNARD. 
 
 225 
 
 odd but appropriate title of " ropa vieja," or second- 
 hand clothes. 
 
 We were detained nearly the livelong day at the 
 venta of Huerta ; and I was glad to seek an hour's 
 relief from the weariness of doing nothing in a visit 
 to the neighbouring convent of the monks of Saint 
 Bernard. This convent is of a very ancient date, 
 having been founded by one of the Alonzos in 1177. 
 It would seem to have been under the patronage of 
 the lordly house of Medina Celi ; for a splendid ban- 
 ner, embroidered in silver, with the arms of that fa- 
 mily, and which seemed to have defied the dust of 
 many years, was suspended in the chapel of the con- 
 vent. Here, too, once reposed the mortal remains 
 of those proud grandees ; but they have been since 
 removed to the village of Medina Celi. More hal- 
 lowed bones, too, moulder within its walls : a little 
 silver box was shown me, containing the holy relics 
 of some forgotten saint, which have doubtless work- 
 ed in their time a due share of miracles. It was 
 not an hour of devotion when I entered the chapel, 
 and I found it quite solitary, with the exception of 
 an old woman, who knelt before the altar and count- 
 ed her beads, while her lips moved in a whispered 
 
226 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 Ave Maria or Pater Noster. Her soiled and tatter- 
 ed garments and sorrowful countenance bespoke 
 one bowed down by poverty as well as old age ; and 
 I could not help contrasting the wretchedness of her 
 attire with the gorgeous and costly banner that 
 hung near the shrine at which she knelt, the em- 
 blem of the princely fortunes of Medina Celi. 
 
 I wandered for some time about this ancient cha- 
 pel, spelling the names on the tombstones, which 
 paved the church, those ostentatiously sorrowful re- 
 cords of mortality, and figuring to myself how 
 they, whose forgotten ashes slumbered quietly be- 
 neath, were long years ago cloistered monks, with 
 cowl and rosary, kneeling at these same altars, and 
 swelling the hoarse anthem of the choir ; or haply 
 steel-clad warriors, strong in the battle, and bold at 
 the tilting match, and gay at the wassail board ; or 
 cunning jurisconsults, deeply taught in the pandects 
 of Justinian and the edicts of Alonzo the Wise. 
 As I was amusing myself in the solitude of the cha- 
 pel with these dreamy speculations, a young monk 
 came along the aisle, halting at the several shrines 
 to make the customary genuflexions, and dipping 
 his finger in the basin of holy water with which he 
 
CONVENT OF ST. BERNARD. 227 
 
 made the sign of the cross. He had scarcely passed 
 the limits of boyhood, and was hale and hearty, with 
 an open and good-natured expression of countenance, 
 which the gloom of monastic seclusion had not yet 
 clouded. What a perversion of nature, that one in 
 the vigour and hey-day of youth, with a mind ripe 
 for the reception of liberal knowledge, and a frame 
 strong for useful labour, and a heart at that age 
 when it is warm to the social sympathies and sus- 
 ceptible of love, that instinctive and mysterious feel- 
 ing which nature never gave to be subdued by 
 fasting and vigils, and whipped out by the self-mor- 
 tifying scourge ; what a perversion of nature, I say, 
 that such a one should be consigned to the gloom 
 of a monastery, to waste his mind in the unprofitable 
 mysteries of schoolmen ; his bodily vigour in the 
 sluggish confinement of his cell ; and the sympa- 
 thies of his heart in the dull solitude and privations 
 of this hopeless seclusion. 
 
 The young man led me round the church, point- 
 ing out to me such things as he deemed worthy of 
 notice ; among the rest, the huge iron-bound volumes 
 which, on sheets of parchment and in characters 
 faded by time, contained the music of the choir. 
 
228 
 
 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 From these, century after century, the monks of 
 San Bernardo had chanted their matins and vespers ; 
 and to this agreeable duty my hapless cicerone was 
 doomed for the rest of his days. From thence we 
 passed along a corridor, which was hung with time- 
 worn paintings representing the most memorable 
 actions in the life of the patron saint ; by this we 
 were conducted to the convent library, where a num- 
 ber of monks, young and old, and all clad in the 
 same ungraceful robes of white flannel, were en- 
 gaged in reading. I found, by glancing over the 
 titles, that most of the books were antiquated tomes 
 on holy matters, clad in ponderous parchment bind- 
 ings, and bearing the names of the by-gone fathers 
 of the church. I noticed one long line of more 
 than fifty volumes, whose equal height bespoke them 
 the children of one prolific brain, and which were 
 labelled on the backs, in large and old-fashioned cha- 
 racters, " Actos de los Santos ;" a fruitful theme, 
 which fully accounted for the prolixity of the work. 
 A few shelves contained works of a more winning 
 character ; such as the ^Eneid of Virgil, the fables 
 of La Fontaine, those of Yriarte, and various edi- 
 tions of that darling of the Spaniard and story of 
 
CONVENT LIBRARY. 229 
 
 all stories, the Life and Actions of the Ingenious 
 Hidalgo, Don Quixote de la Mancha. One com- 
 partment, which was secured by a lock and wire 
 grating, was designated by the ominous label of " Li- 
 bros Prohibidos." It seemed to me that it would 
 have been wiser for the prior of the convent to have 
 put this forbidden fruit quite out of the way, rather 
 than let it peep thus temptingly through the win- 
 dows of the bookcase, within sight and out of 
 reach, like the fabled water to the thirsty Tantalus, 
 or a pastrycook's window to the penniless clown, 
 who gazes with envious eyes from the street upon 
 the dainties he may look at but may not taste. 
 
 Among the monks who were scattered about the 
 library, occupied in silent study, was an old man, 
 wasted and pale, whose hair time and the razor had 
 removed, except just a little circle of gray locks 
 bleached by age. He was attired like the rest, in a 
 robe of white woollen, decent and clean, a point not 
 always regarded by monks and friars ; a girdle of 
 rope was bound round his waist, and a long rosary 
 hung at his side. A pair of large, old-fashioned, iron 
 spectacles sat astride upon the end of his nose, with- 
 out the customary support of side pieces ; and on his 
 20 
 
230 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 knees he held a large parchment bound volume with 
 illuminated pages, from which he read with an air 
 of profound abstraction, stopping now and then to 
 refresh himself with a pinch from a portly snuff- 
 box which he carried in the folds of his robe. 
 
 In the afternoon we left the inn of Huerta with a 
 stout team of mules, which, at one point of the road, 
 the mayoral was obliged to increase to the number 
 of fifteen, in order to drag the diligence through the 
 mud. On such occasions of difficulty, a most dis- 
 cordant shouting was set up by the master and his 
 man, and by such passing peasants as lent their aid, 
 in which the names of the mules and saints, ex- 
 pressions of encouragement and wrathful denuncia- 
 tions, were blended in one wild chorus poured forth 
 with the volubility of an Italian buffo. When the 
 twilight rendered it still more difficult to contend 
 with the holes and quagmires of the road, we halted 
 again at a ruinous village called Alhama, whose sor- 
 ry inn was in good keeping with every thing around 
 it. At the door our persons, as we descended one by 
 one from the vehicle, were scanned by the inquisi- 
 tive eyes of the village cure, and of a student of the- 
 ology who stood at his elbow ; the former dressed in 
 
VILLAGE OF ALHAMA. 231 
 
 a coarse black cassock, cloak, and yard-long sombre- 
 ro, foxy with age ; the latter wearing a capeless 
 black capa and an untrimmed cocked hat. They 
 had just finished the pious duty of administering 
 ghostly counsel and consolation to a sick man at the 
 inn. Besides these worthies were also assembled the 
 " maestro de nifios," or village schoolmaster, and a 
 motley group of stable boys, muleteers, villagers, and 
 peasants, who surveyed us in grave silence as we 
 passed. The miserable and decaying pueblo of Al- 
 hama lies in a narrow valley, shut in by sharp and 
 towering rocks ; on the summit of one of which 
 stands a ruinous tower of the Goths or Moors, mark- 
 ed in strong relief against the sky. It seemed to 
 frown defiance on the village beneath, and on all 
 such as might attempt to scale the rugged cliff on 
 which it was perched, like an eagle in his eyrie. In 
 distant days here doubtless dwelt some haughty 
 high-born count or baron, the feudal lord of the 
 poverty-stricken Alhama. Near the inn was the old- 
 fashioned village church, whose cracked bells were 
 tolling, with discordant chime, the evening hour of 
 prayer. Beside it stood a spacious old mansion, 
 whose broken windows, doors unhinged, and a gene- 
 
232 SCENES IN 
 
 ral air of ruin and neglect, betokened the deserted 
 mansion of some once wealthy family. In the up- 
 per story of this solitary dwelling lived the village 
 schoolmaster, trespassing on the rightful domain of 
 the owls and rats. One or two narrow, filthy streets, 
 with rows of low-roofed hovels of stone, plastered 
 with muddy cement, sheltered the poor population 
 of this humble pueblo. On one of these hovels a 
 rude painting of the Spanish arms, the rampant 
 lion and the castle denoted a royal estanco, where 
 salt and tobacco, those cherished objects of royal 
 monopoly, were doled out at extravagant prices 
 to the necessitous Alhamians. Some of the people, 
 ill-clad and dirty, might be seen sitting on the door 
 stone of their hovels ; and here and there, in the ob- 
 scurity of the ill-lighted and comfortless chambers, 
 a group of penniless worthies might be discovered 
 squatting on the clay floor, playing cards on an out- 
 spread cloak or blanket. Occasionally a goatherd 
 passed the inn, bringing home his long-bearded 
 charge from cropping the herbage of the neighbour- 
 ing hills, or a bare-legged peasant, with half a score 
 of downcast donkeys, with drooping heads, and an 
 air as disconsolate as John Bunyan's Man of De- 
 spair in the iron cage. 
 
,>; 
 
 SUPPER IN ALHAMA. 233 
 
 The supper which the hostess served us was not 
 of the most luxurious sort, as might have been ex- 
 pected from the comfortless appearance of the inn 
 and village. We washed it down with the red wine 
 of the country, which was set upon the uncovered 
 board in a curious sort of vessel, much used in the 
 eastern provinces of Spain. It was a glass decan- 
 ter, with a capacious and tun-bellied body, from the 
 bottom of which rose a tapering tube, like the spout 
 of a tea-pot, but longer, and smaller at the aperture. 
 The person who drinks grasps the decanter by the 
 neck, and inclining it a little, a jet of wine is emitted 
 from the spout, which he directs into his open mouth. 
 It seems to be a matter of rivalry in the use of this 
 odd drinking vessel to hold the bottle as high as 
 possible above the head, and catch the stream as far 
 as may be from its source ; a difficult operation, in 
 which the inexperienced generally distribute as 
 much of the liquor over their faces as into the aper- 
 ture yawning to receive it. It is a matter, too, which 
 requires schooling to swallow the wine while it con- 
 tinues pouring into the mouth ; and in truth, it so 
 perplexed me, that after scattering the unwelcome 
 beverage over my eyes and nose, and finding that 
 
 20* 
 
234 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 even when with a surer aim I got it safely dis- 
 charged into my mouth, it would not run down my 
 throat, I was fain to call for a more familiar drink- 
 ing vessel, to the no small amusement of my com- 
 panions and the black-haired and blowsy hostess. 
 
 When our repast was finished, the hostess, with 
 an old-fashioned iron lamp in her hand, conducted 
 me to the comfortless chamber where I was to pass 
 the night. To get to it we went through a narrow 
 passage, in which were stretched out the sleeping 
 forms of several muleteers and peasants, with bun- 
 dles of straw, or the furniture of their mules beneath 
 their heads, and their striped mantas spread over 
 them. As we threaded our way among the ^legs of 
 the sleepers, and noticed the soundness of their re- 
 pose in spite of their uncomfortable accommodations, 
 the hostess pointed to one of the arrieros with her 
 black skinny finger, and muttered in an under-tone 
 the old proverb, " No hay tal cama como la de la en- 
 jalma." " There is no bed like the pack-saddle." 
 
 The apartment into which she ushered me had a 
 plaster floor, as full of hills and hollows as the Sierra 
 Morena ; and in the corner stood a flock bed with a 
 dingy coverlet, and sheets that had evidently served 
 
DEVOTIONAL PICTURE. 235 
 
 the turn of many other travellers. A bit of broken 
 mirror was fastened against the wall, a wooden 
 cross nailed over the head of the bed to keep 
 away the devil, a little glass ^fount of [holy water 
 stood on a table, and there was also a coarse wood- 
 cut purporting to be the representation of " Our La- 
 dy of Nieva, especial advocate against tempests and 
 hurricanes." " There is," said the explanatory para- 
 graph beneath the figure of Virgin, " a pious tradi- 
 tion, that wherever this print shall be, there shall 
 fall no thunderbolts nor lightning." So that it 
 seems this penny print was a convenient and econo- 
 mical substitute for Dr. Franklin's conductor. It 
 also contained an account of several marvellous 
 miracles wrought by the Virgin of Nieva in favour 
 of those who had worn about them this representa- 
 tion of her, together with the assurance " That the 
 most Illustrious Bishop of Segovia had granted forty 
 days of indulgence to whatsoever person should 
 pray a salve before this Holy Image, though he 
 knew not how to read." 
 
 In an apartment which communicated with mine 
 by an opening which was intended to receive a door, 
 but which in the emergency was closed only by a 
 
236 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 blanket hung up against it, slept the fair Zarago- 
 zian, whom I now heard conversing in an under- 
 tone with the maritornes of the inn, a bare-legged 
 Aragonesa. I know not whether this black-eyed 
 slattern had been called in as a sort of duenna by 
 the dame upon seeing the frail protection of the blan- 
 ket which divided her chamber from whosoever 
 should occupy the neighbouring apartment. If 
 such were the motive, it was probably more a mat- 
 ter of affected than real squeamishness. As I gath- 
 ered the bed-clothes around me I recommended her 
 to God, repeating the customary compliment, which 
 she duly reciprocated; and was presently insensible 
 to the snoring of the muleteers in the hall, to the 
 attacks of the hungry fleas, and the whispered con- 
 versation of the Zaragozian and her duenna. 
 
 The next night found us in Zaragoza, which we 
 all welcomed with hearty good will after a long and 
 wearisome journey. 
 
237 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 ZARAGOZA. 
 
 THE inn at which I found myself established at 
 Zaragoza, though called the best in the place, was 
 a very sorry affair. It was a large, ruinous old 
 house, which doubtless, in its better days, had been 
 the mansion of some family of wealth and dignity, 
 but had now descended to the base uses of a com- 
 mon inn ; an emblem, perhaps, of the fortunes of 
 its once lordly tenants, like it, fallen from their 
 former magnificence into poverty and neglect. Its 
 present occupants were sluttish people, who left the 
 great porch and stairway unswept by day, and in 
 gloomy darkness by night ; while the chambers and 
 table accorded but too well with the other arrange- 
 ments of the careless wife of the host, a woman of 
 slovenly attire, unattractive person, and a shrill 
 voice, that was often heard ringing ill-naturedly from 
 the kitchen to the garret. 
 
 The dull rooms of this cheerless domicil had 
 such a desolate air, that for the sake of companion- 
 
238 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 ship in misery, I took a large, wo-begone apartment 
 with one of my fellow-passengers of the diligence ; 
 whom, though I have little to say in his praise, I 
 will nevertheless introduce to the acquaintance of 
 the reader. Don Ambrosio Salsereta was a wither- 
 ed, sallow, wrinkled little man, who counted some 
 forty-five winters, but had the face and figure of a 
 person much more advanced in life. Had I been a 
 better physiognomist, I might have discovered a 
 victim of one of the most fatal passions, in the blood- 
 less, parchment complexion, the reddened eye, the 
 anxious countenance, the trembling hand, the thin 
 gray hair, the broken form, and the general aspect 
 of premature decay and exhaustion. But these are 
 sometimes the symptoms of the innocent prey of dis- 
 ease or misfortune ; and perhaps it was not sur- 
 prising that one still young in the world should 
 not have been able to make the distinction. Don 
 Ambrosio, as I afterwards learned from his own 
 story, and principally from other sources, was born 
 to a good estate, and grew up a boy of lively, mer- 
 curial temperament, more fond of pastime than 
 study, and of a disposition that rejected control. 
 When he came to the proper age, he was sent to the 
 
DON AMBROSIO SALSERETA. 239 
 
 university of Salamanca, where the idle schoolboy 
 was readily recognized in the careless student. He 
 soon found that philosophy had no charms, that law 
 was a pest, and metaphysics an utter abomination to 
 a man of spirit and fortune. Besides, to have pes- 
 tered his brains with these quirks and subtleties 
 would have been an idle waste of time to one who 
 had high-born friends at Salamanca. By their 
 influence he was carried triumphantly through the 
 horrors of examinations, and came forth full-fledg- 
 ed at the end of his career, a very Aristotle in phi- 
 losophy, a Cicero in latinity, and a Justinian in 
 jurisprudence, without having once troubled his 
 head about any of these matters. 
 
 Emerging from the cobweb halls of Salamanca 
 with all these ready-made accomplishments, he soon 
 found himself in the possession of his long-expected 
 estate, and the gay " world all before him where to 
 choose." For a man of wealth and spirit to languish 
 in the dullness of a provincial town, or in the som- 
 bre, old-fashioned halls of his ancestral mansion, 
 would have been no better than being buried alive. 
 Madrid was the only place for one who aspired to 
 shine as the fine gentleman of wit and fortune ; and 
 
240 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 to Madrid hurried the hopeful Don Ambrosio Sal- 
 sereta. With the dashing spirit that characterized 
 him, he took a short cut to the object of his ambi- 
 tion, and made his debut in the fashionable world 
 with becoming magnificence. Whose were the gay- 
 est livery, the most spirited pair, and the costliest 
 coach in the Prado ? Why, whose could they be 
 but the newly arrived Don Antonio, the happy heir 
 of a lordly store of ducats, who had come to Madrid 
 to breathe the atmosphere of the Court, and spend 
 his fortune as became an elegant gentleman. As a 
 matter of course, he became a connoisseur in fine 
 women as well as fine equipages, and also in the art 
 of losing gracefully at the card-table, an art in which 
 he had made a handsome progress while a student 
 at Salamanca. Things went on thus swimmingly 
 for some time, till one day his contador, or steward, 
 hinted that his treasury was on the wane, and sug- 
 gested, with becoming delicacy, the propriety of 
 selling some of his estates. A contador, by the way, 
 is in Spain an indispensable appendage to a man of 
 fortune or fashion, who, occupied with the more 
 agreeable amusement of spending money, would 
 consider it a degradation to perplex himself with the 
 
DON AMBROSIO SALSERETA. 241 
 
 dull and vexatious care of gathering it in. The 
 Spanish contador is a person usually in not much bet- 
 ter odour for probity and principle than the Alguazil 
 or the Escribano ; and while he ministers to the extra- 
 vagance of his employer, usually takes care to rea- 
 lize the familiar adage, " Q,uien el aceite mesura las 
 manos se unta ;" " He who measures oil does not 
 fail to anoint his fingers with it." Whether the 
 contador of Don Ambrosio was an exception to the 
 character of his tribe or not, the heedless profligacy 
 of his master was quite sufficient to account for the 
 rapid disappearance of his patrimonial ducats ; 
 which, to make a long story short, were soon utterly 
 spent on horses, women, and at play, that rail-road 
 to ruin. 
 
 It was probably a great surprise to the dashing 
 Don Ambrosio to find his fingers so soon at the 
 bottom of his purse, and groping about in its empty 
 meshes without finding so much as a maravedi. 
 Doubtless he had some twinges of conscience, arid 
 may have even railed at himself a little for having 
 played the man of spirit and fashion with such un- 
 exampled cleverness and success. But the seeds of 
 repentance being sown on stony ground, were soon 
 21 
 
242 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 devoured by the hungry passion that had now ta- 
 ken unlimited possession of his heart. Having be- 
 gun to play as the fine gentleman, he continued it 
 as the gambler by profession. As he had gone to 
 school to that shrewd mistress, experience, and felt 
 his wits additionally sharpened by the fruitful mo- 
 ther of invention, he probably found this, for a time, 
 a tolerable resource with the unwary. Indeed, I once 
 fell in with one of his countrymen, who, having got 
 into his clutches, had taken a lesson in circumspection 
 at the price of a pocket-full of ducats. But as talent 
 is sure to be sooner or later appreciated by the dis- 
 cerning public, the Madrilenians became at last so 
 well convinced of Don Ambrosio's genius and dex- 
 terity, that they modestly shrank from competition 
 with him; and this ambitious Alexander of the 
 card-table and dice-box grew tired of the scene of 
 his victories, and sighed for new worlds to conquer. 
 With the most praiseworthy perseverance, he made 
 voyages of discovery to the provincial towns and 
 cities, staying long enough in each to enable the in- 
 nocent natives to form a proper estimate of his abili- 
 ties, and] then extending his researches elsewhere. 
 With this notion he had probably come to Zaragoza, 
 
DON AMBROSIO SALSERETA. 243 
 
 and had timed his arrival at that opportune season 
 when the approaching celebration of the Virgin of 
 the Pillar attracted crowds of curious strangers and 
 country gentry to the battered capital of Aragon. 
 
 Had I been able to read the story of Don Ambro- 
 sio's life by intuition, I should of course have pre- 
 ferred the gloomiest room of that desolate mansion 
 to the worshipful society of a veteran gambler. But 
 as these facts only came to my knowledge at a sub- 
 sequent period, the anxious reader must be contented 
 to leave me for a day or two domesticated in the very 
 same apartment with this faded fine gentleman and 
 gray-headed sinner. 
 
 Waking after a long repose from the wearisome- 
 ness of the journey, I found the worthy Don Ambro- 
 sio taking his chocolate in bed, holding the little cup 
 that contained it with trembling nerves in one hand, 
 and with the other dipping out the rich froth with the 
 assistance of little slices of dry bread. We exchanged 
 the customary compliments, inquiring of each other, 
 in certain set phrases, how we had passed the night; 
 for the Spaniard has a string of formal salutations 
 for the different periods of the day. Having 
 despatched his chocolate, he busied himself in mak- 
 
244 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 ing a paper cigarillo, which he lighted with the 
 assistance of those indispensable pocket companions 
 of every true-born Spaniard, a flint and steel. This 
 done, he laid himself down in his bed again, and 
 seemed absorbed in smoking and reflection. To see 
 a man smoking in bed of a morning would have 
 appeared very odd to me had I not long since 
 become familiarized to this inveterate habit. The 
 good-hearted Medico, whom I had lodged in the 
 same room with in Granada, used to light his cigar 
 the first thing after opening his eyes in the morning ; 
 and when the chambermaid went to call him, she 
 always carried a little pot of coals in her hand for 
 the purpose. 
 
 Leaving Don Ambrosio thus agreeably occupied, 
 I sallied out to look at the city. The irin stood in the 
 wide street of the Coso, a name which it probably 
 derived from its having been, in days gone by, the 
 gay scene of the bull-fight or the tournament. Im- 
 mediately opposite the inn was a large, antiquated 
 building, known as the Audiencia, and where the 
 courts of justice held their sittings. Several troopers, 
 with heavy jack-boots and bright brass helmets, were 
 sitting on a bench at the doorway, while one of their 
 
THE AUDIENCIA. 245 
 
 companions paced slowly up and down with his long 
 basket-hilted Toledana in one hand, and a light short 
 carabine in the other. Besides this fierce-looking 
 sentinel, there were two huge, noseless giants, who 
 frowned in stone on either side of the portal, and 
 seemed, with their Herculean clubs, ready to beat 
 out the brains of any one who should attempt to 
 pass them. If these ill-favoured Brobdignagians 
 were really put there to frighten away the multitude, 
 it seems to me to .have been a very gratuitous and 
 unnecessary measure ; for the Spaniard is ever much 
 more disposed to fly from than to approach the pre- 
 cincts of the Justicia. 
 
 Having mustered resolution to pass the savage 
 guardians of the portal, I wandered about this cold 
 and desolate hall of justice till I at length found 
 myself in one of the tribunals. At the distant end 
 of a sad, gloomy apartment, the judges were seated 
 on an elevated platform ; they were attired in black 
 robes, with an under garment which was buttoned 
 up to the throat, and trimmed at the neck and sleeves 
 with lace ruffles. They had laid aside the long 
 un wieldly black hats, after the fashion of the clergy, 
 which they wear in the street. While one of these 
 21* 
 
246 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 dignitaries seemed absorbed in the cause before 
 them, his companions appeared heartily tired with 
 the long history of the ease, which the " Relator," 
 clad in cloak and doublet of coarse black cloth, was 
 reading from a voluminous manuscript, written in a 
 quaint, old-fashioned hand. Several lawyers were 
 listening to the case, attired much like the judges, in 
 silk gown and cloth doublet ; they remained in a 
 sitting posture when they had occasion to address the 
 court. An Alguazii or bailiff was also in attendance, 
 in black, square-tailed coat and knee breeches, girt 
 with a steel hilled court sword, and wearing his 
 cocked hat in the face of the court; an indecorous 
 custom, which I was at a loss to reconcile with the 
 characteristic and punctilious politeness of the 
 Spaniard. 
 
 Leaving the Audiencia, I followed the direction of 
 the spacious Coso till it brought me to an open square, 
 in which stood a small pillar surmounted by an iron 
 cross. It was erected to commemorate the heroic 
 struggle and glorious end of those who fell in the 
 siege of Zaragoza. There was much still left in the 
 scene around me to recall the horrors of that despe- 
 rate defence. Hard by stood the shattered ruins of a 
 
TRACES OF THE SIEGE. 247 
 
 convent, of which little was left but one bold arch, 
 that stood in lonely and naked grandeur, the stately 
 edifice whose roof it once supported having fallen 
 around it ; and the houses on either side of the street 
 were still riddled with balls ; for in Spain the hand of 
 improvement is not busy, as in happier countries, to 
 repair the work of ruin and smooth away the traces 
 of decay. But even with these vestiges of destruction 
 before one's eyes, how is it possible for the imagina- 
 tion even faintly to conceive the horrors of that 
 period, when the air rang with the incessant peals of 
 musketry and cannon, the ferocious shouts of tri- 
 umph, and the shrieks of the wounded ; when the 
 treacherous mine hurled the unsuspecting townsmen 
 in the air with the scattered fragments of the dwell- 
 ings they defended to the last ; when the streets were 
 heaped with smoking ruins, the atmosphere heated 
 with the destroying element that leapt wildly from 
 house to house ; and when, to fill the cup of bit- 
 terness for the unhappy Zaragozians, the pestilence 
 was raging with the sword in the deadly harvest of 
 destruction ? 
 
 The spot where I now stood witnessed some of 
 the most desperate scenes of that furious struggle ; 
 
248 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 and it is a cherished superstition of the people, that 
 the blood of those martyrs in the sacred cause of in- 
 dependence ran down to the ruinous church of San- 
 ta Engracia, and sank into the stone reservoir there, 
 which may be seen not far from the tomb of the 
 pious San Alberto. I once went to see the reser- 
 voir with my own eyes. As it was closed with a stone 
 slab, the blood of the martyrs was hidden, but no pious 
 Catholic doubts that it is treasured there, and you 
 may see the believing peasants kneeling humbly 
 over the spot, and blessing their rosaries by hanging 
 them through the little holes pierced in the stone for 
 that purpose. However one may smile at these su- 
 perstitions, it is as imprudent as it is uncourteous to 
 treat them publicly with disrespect. A young man 
 who was of our party, on visiting Santa Engracia, 
 thrust his cane through the slab, to bless it as the 
 devout blessed their rosaries. For this his more 
 discreet ( companions upbraided him severely ; and 
 were, indeed, much alarmed, lest a friar who was pass- 
 ing at the moment should have observed this piece 
 of enormity. It would have been quite enough to 
 have sent their friend to digest his religious doubts 
 in the gallies. 
 
SUPERSTITIONS OF ZARAGOZA. 249 
 
 That this and a thousand other superstitions are 
 deeply rooted in the minds of the Zaragozians, and 
 that they are excessively devoted to their faith, are 
 facts both illustrated and explained by the astonish- 
 ing numbers and influence of the clergy in this 
 strong-hold of priestcraft. Thus, for instance, not 
 to take into the account the numerous establish- 
 ments of the Metropolitan church, there are in Za- 
 ragoza sixteen parochial cures and rectors, and 
 eighty-eight resident beneficiaries ; besides the un- 
 distinguished throng of choristers, musicians, sex- 
 tons, servants, and hangers-on. Also four monas- 
 teries of monks, twenty-eight convents of friars, 
 and sixteen nunneries ; and all this in a broken 
 down city whose population is only fifty thousand. 
 Can we wonder that superstition should flourish 
 where it has so many to foster it ? 
 
 Leaving the place of the monument, a spot con- 
 secrated by so many melancholy yet glorious recol- 
 lections, I passed the gloomy hall of the Audiencia 
 again, and directed my steps towards the Plaza del 
 Mercado. On my way I noticed a large and im- 
 posing edifice, whose spacious portal was hung with 
 a festoon of heavy iron chains. This, it seems, was 
 
250 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 the palace dedicated to the reception of the king and 
 ^the royal family ; the chains were emblematic of the 
 regal destinies of the building, and are always affix- 
 ed to edifices which have been honoured by the abode 
 of the king. How appropriate a device to mark the 
 abode of a despotic monarch, the iron-handed ruler 
 of an enslaved and suffering people ! 
 
 The Plaza del Mercado is a square, or rather wide 
 street, in which, as its name imports, the market is 
 held, and whose crowded bustle forms a singular 
 contrast to the dull quiet of the rest of the dilapidat- 
 ed Zaragoza. On either side of the streets, under 
 arcades propped by rusty columns and rickety 
 arches, are rows of shops, where all sorts of wares 
 are sold : mats of sedge, hempen sandals, clumsy 
 pack-saddles as big as the ass they are to bestride, 
 gay furniture for the more favoured mule, bedecked 
 with dangling ornaments of variegated worsted, 
 straw panniers, nettings of rope to carry burdens 
 in, gaudy mantas to catch the eye of the peasant, 
 and the jingling buttons of silver or gilded basket- 
 work to garnish his holiday suit ; besides unnum- 
 bered stores of garbanzos and .barley, sturdy hams, 
 and sausages of as formidable length and thickness as 
 
COSTUME OF ARAGON. 251 
 
 the pasteboard club of the Spanish gracioso. Be- 
 neath these circulate crowds of purchasers and loun- 
 gers, while the centre of the square is filled with 
 peasantry, offering for sale all sorts of fruit, vegeta- 
 bles, and fodder for cattle, the' produce of the fertile 
 Vega which embosoms Zaragoza. These peasants 
 are the most finely formed men I have any where 
 seen, and their dress is well adapted to show off their 
 masculine figures. They wear a jacket of coarse 
 brown cloth, sometimes adorned with plated or gild- 
 ed buttons, the darling ornament of every peasant 
 who can muster pesetas enough to purchase them, 
 and an heir-loom of finery which is carefully hand- 
 ed down from father to son. They wear breeches 
 also of the same coloured cloth, fitting tightly to the 
 person, and confined above the hips by a red sash, 
 in the dangling ends of which they carry their rials 
 and quartos. The leg below the knee is tightly 
 covered by an elastic stocking of brown woollen, 
 which displays to great advantage its sinewy and 
 strongly marked outline. This stocking only covers 
 the leg and ancle, and the naked sunburnt foot is 
 protected on the sole and at the end of the toes by a 
 coarse hempen sandal. A manta, or striped blanket, 
 
SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 is thrown loosely over the left shoulder, or in cold 
 weather wrapt tightly around the body. The head is 
 either covered with the calanes, or more usually with 
 a cotton handkerchief of a gaudy pattern ; and be- 
 neath the folds of the sash may be seen the horn 
 handle of the Spanish knife. So manly and digni- 
 fied is the bearing of these peasants, that without 
 appealing to the page of history, which has conse- 
 crated the heroic patriotism of the Aragonese, we 
 might read in their eminently martial bearing, and 
 in the fire of their keen dark eyes, those qualities of 
 physical energy and moral courage which yields 
 only with death. 
 
 Leaving this lively scene, I passed under the 
 dark archway of the city prison. Here and there, 
 at the iron-barred windows of this abode of crime 
 and wretchedness, a dirty prisoner, with pale, ema- 
 ciated, and haggard countenance, his matted hair 
 hanging wildly over his face, was seen gazing 
 wistfully through the grating that forbade his es- 
 cape; contrasting, doubtless, the freedom of the 
 crowd without with his own confinement and mise- 
 ry within. Some of these unfortunates were en- 
 gaged in angling for cuartos and ochavos, much as 
 
PLAZA DEL PILAR. 253 
 
 the fisherman catches shrimps ; thrusting out from 
 between the grated bars a pole, from the end of 
 which depended a little canvass bag to receive the 
 contributions of such good-hearted Samaritans as 
 might pass that way. This ingenious device I have 
 often seen practised by prisoners in other countries ; 
 any one who has toiled up the steps of the Capi- 
 toline Hill must remember having had his com- 
 passion appealed to in the same way by the poor 
 wretches confined in the prison in the lower story 
 of the Senatorial Palace, on that very spot so closely 
 associated with all our recollections of the long-lost 
 grandeur of Rome. 
 
 From the city prison I directed my steps through 
 the little square of St. Anthony, and so through se- 
 veral winding, narrow and antiquated streets to- 
 wards the Plaza del Pilar. An unusual crowd 
 seemed to be setting in that direction ; and here and 
 there at the corners of the streets, a trooper, mo- 
 tionless as a statue, sat on his quiet charger, with 
 his drawn sabre resting on his shoulder, and his 
 dark eyes steadily fixed in a right line over his 
 horse's ears with becoming military precision. I 
 supposed that the Place of the Pillar was about to 
 22 
 
254 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 be the scene of an execution ; an exhibition which 
 always draws crowds in Spain, as well as in more ci- 
 vilized countries. But on entering the square I looked 
 around in vain for culprit or gallows ; and on ask- 
 ing the cause of this gathering of the rabble, was 
 told that it was the quinta, or drawing lots for the 
 quota of men to be furnished by the city of Zarago- 
 za, in pursuance of a royal order for adding twenty 
 thousand bayonets to the Spanish army. This 
 measure was probably the result of a disposition 
 on the part of government to prop, with Spanish 
 arms, the tottering throne of Don Miguel of Por- 
 tugal, who was then anticipating an attack from 
 his brother Don Pedro, and was surrounded by 
 discontented subjects, the victims of his oppres- 
 sion and cruelty. It was natural that the Abso- 
 lutists, already filled with anxiety by the revolu- 
 tion in France which had just hurled the elder 
 branch of the Bourbons from the throne, should look 
 with increased apprehension to the lowering aspect 
 of Portugal, and lend a helping hand to the preca- 
 rious fortunes of the usurper. 
 
 The Plaza del Pilar was formed on one side by 
 the great cathedral dedicated to the worship of the 
 
THE CONSCRIPTION. 255 
 
 famous Virgin of the Pillar, and on the others by 
 rows of tall, gloomy houses, whose dusty, time-worn 
 and half-ruinous appearance was of a piece with 
 the decaying fortune of Zaragoza. At the extreme 
 northern end of this square was an elevated platform 
 of stone, over which a blue cotton awning was extend- 
 ed, whence depended an antiquated and rich tapes- 
 try. Here was seen seated the Captain-General of the 
 province, with a broad, red scarf over his shoulder, 
 and wearing a variety of crosses and other badges 
 of distinction, which were sown as profusely over 
 the left breast of his coat as the plums in a Christ- 
 mas pudding. Round this glittering dignitary, 
 whose character as a man of honour and honesty 
 was far from being as bright as the gilded insignia 
 of his office, revolved the satellites of his power, the 
 lesser luminaries of the Ayuntamiento. An escri- 
 biente, or secretary, with pen behind his ear, sat in 
 readiness to note the proceedings of the morning ; 
 while the back-ground was filled with those birds of 
 evil omen, the alguazils. At a little distance on the 
 left of the Captain-General was a dusky cloud of 
 priests, attired in the sombre, black garb of their or- 
 der, and having their shaven heads protected by lit- 
 
256 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 tie close-fitting- skull-caps of black silk. These 
 were the curates of the fifteen parishes of Zaragoza, 
 Their attendance was required because they had 
 charge of the baptismal records, and could, in dis- 
 puted cases, ascertain the names and ages of any of 
 the fourteen hundred persons who were to draw lots 
 for the service. It will readily occur to the reader 
 that these baptismal records were not the only source 
 of information, as to the condition of their parishion- 
 ers, in the possession of these curious curates, who 
 have every where the character of gossips and busy- 
 bodies, and pry into the minutest family affairs of 
 their spiritual flocks. Upon these assembled digni- 
 taries of church and state the portraits of the ill- 
 favoured Ferdinand and his blooming queen look- 
 ed smilingly down, and seemed the patrons of 
 the meeting. In front of the Ayuntamiento were 
 two barrels hung on an axle so as to revolve ; in 
 one of these were placed the names of persons sub- 
 ject to enlistment, and in the other black and white 
 balls. In front of the seats of the functionaries, to 
 keep the crowd at a respectful distance, was a double 
 line of soldiers with fixed bayonets, whose tall, 
 shaggy, bear-skin caps covered their heads to the 
 
THE CONSCRIPTION. 257 
 
 very eyes, giving them a fierce and soldier-like ap- 
 pearance. A troop of cavalry 'kept riding, at a slow 
 pace, up and down the square ; a martial and effec- 
 tive body of men, well mounted and equipped. For 
 defensive armour they wore heavy jack boots, that 
 rose above the knee, and would turn, or at least 
 deaden, an ordinary sabre cut, and polished brass 
 helmets adorned with flowing horse-hair; their 
 weapons were a long, straight sabre, from the royal 
 fabric of Toledo, and a short musket, the muzzle of 
 which, when not in use, rested securely in a socket 
 at the saddle-bow. A blanket was strapped to the 
 front of the saddle, and at the back was a valise 
 and a small sieve made of goat-skin ; each trooper 
 had also a canvass-bag for carrying provisions. 
 Troops are always displayed in Spain on occasions 
 which bring the people together ; and such precau- 
 tions were doubly necessary in Zaragoza, a city 
 noted for the turbulence of its population. 
 
 The drawing of the duinta had not only brought 
 together a crowd of those who were immediately 
 interested in it, but likewise an idle mob of labour- 
 ers, artisans, peasants and beggars ; a rabble rout, 
 whose attire was generally very dirty, and from 
 22* 
 
258 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 whose breaths issued flames of garlic strong enough 
 to stagger the nerves of any one but a Spaniard. 
 Mixed in with the crowd might be seen priests and 
 friars, of all colours and all orders, and students of the 
 university, unwashed fellows, hidden in their cape- 
 less black cloaks and solemn cocked hats. Those 
 of them who were destined for the pious vocations 
 of the church might be distinguished by a small 
 black stock with a pink stripe at the edge. These 
 students of the university of Zaragoza were, almost 
 without exception, dirty and squalid looking fellows ; 
 I mean those who could be distinguished by the 
 uniform, for I was told that the better class of them 
 do not appear in that sombre costume except in the 
 lecture rooms, or when the university is actually in 
 session. They may be seen hanging round the bil- 
 liard-rooms and cafes, or lounging in the public 
 squares, smoking their paper cigars, a lazy, good-for- 
 nothing crew. Some apology for the idleness of 
 these students may be found in the odious fact, that 
 the universities of Law, Medicine and Philosophy, 
 all over Spain, have been closed since the abortive 
 efforts of the emigrant Spaniards to kindle the flame 
 of revolution in 1830. I asked a Spaniard one day 
 
THE CONSCRIPTION. 259 
 
 what all the young men were to do now that the 
 doors of the universities had been thus unceremo- 
 niously shut in their faces : " Ser mas brutos," 
 " become more brutish," was his indignant reply ; 
 adding, " this will suit the government much better 
 than if they were enlightened." What a shocking 
 thing, whether we consider the matter morally or 
 politically, that the avenues of knowledge should 
 be thus jealously barred up ! How can we sufficiently 
 detest a government which finds its best security in 
 ignorance, and abhors the light of education as the 
 owl or the bat the sun at noon-day ? 
 
 The drawing of the Q,uinta presently commenced, 
 arid it was curious to observe the anxious attention 
 of the crowd as the result of each draft was an- 
 nounced. Their excitement was doubtless much 
 kept under by the bayonets through whose serried 
 and glittering points they caught sight of the pro- 
 gress of the lottery ; but still, as each name with its 
 good or bad fortune was called, there was a measure 
 of dissatisfaction or gratulation by the interested 
 party and his friends at his disaster or escape. To 
 avoid enlistment was of course the general wish of 
 those registered to take their chance in this lottery ; 
 
260 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 for, besides the immediate sacrifice of the party's inde- 
 pendence, he would receive for his services but little 
 pay. The emoluments of the common soldier in 
 the Spanish army are fifty-six reals a month, or nearly 
 three dollars. He receives his uniform, equipments, 
 and food from the public purse ; but, if I mistake 
 not, there are some parts of his scanty wardrobe 
 which he is obliged to supply from his own paltry 
 pittance. 
 
 When I grew weary of standing in the hot sun 
 to watch this motley rabble, I directed my steps 
 towards the ancient and overgrown edifice conse- 
 crated to the worship of the famous Virgin of the 
 Pillar. As this cathedral contains one of the most 
 celebrated shrines of Spain, a brief account of its 
 origin may not be uninteresting, particularly as its 
 truth is backed by the authentic approbation of 
 Padre Isla, one of the most celebrated names in the 
 Spanish church. 
 
 " Spain," according to that pious father, " was once 
 merged in idolatry. Nature had enriched that beau- 
 tiful portion of the world with gifts so precious that 
 they attracted the avarice of the most distant nations. 
 These, with their ambition and their arms, had 
 
LEGEND OF THE PILLAR. 261 
 
 brought with them their superstitions too. With 
 the conquering host of the Phrenician and the Roman, 
 came flocking to the Peninsula all the idols that ever 
 mad fanatacism had invented in the countries their 
 victorious arms had subjected. This ridiculous 
 multitude of deities, of whom Juvenal makes sport, 
 was adored by the ancestors of the now christian- 
 ized Spaniard, who, in those benighted days, acknow- 
 ledged," says Father Isla, " no gods but their own 
 fierce passions, or the dumb works which their own 
 hands had made. 
 
 " While the fair land of the Peninsula was in this 
 unhappy state, the blessed Santiago, or St. James the 
 brother of John and son of Zebedee, received from 
 Christ a command to go forth and preach the gos- 
 pel in the provinces of Spain. In pursuance of his 
 holy mission he started from Jerusalem, came to 
 Spain preaching, and, passing into the Asturias, ar- 
 rived at the city of Oviedo, where he converted a 
 woman to the faith. Thence he went with pious 
 zeal to the Asturias, and after various wanderings 
 arrived at Zaragoza, which then, as now, stood on 
 the banks of the river Elso. In this city, after 
 preaching many days, Santiago converted eight 
 
262 
 
 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 male disciples to the religion of his master. With 
 these by day he discoursed of the Kingdom of God, 
 and by night went forth to the banks of the Elso to 
 take some repose in the thickets which skirted its 
 margin. In this retirement they slept awhile, and 
 then were wont to give themselves up to prayer, 
 thus avoiding being disturbed by men and vexed 
 by the Gentiles. 
 
 " One evening while the eight disciples were sleep- 
 ing, the blessed Santiago heard, at the hour of mid- 
 night, the voices of angels, who chanted in sweet 
 strains the canticle of Ave Maria, gratia plena, as if 
 they were commencing the ceremony of the matin 
 worship of the Virgin. The apostle immediately 
 fell on his knees, and beheld the Virgin Mother of 
 Christ between two choirs of angels, seated on a pil- 
 lar of marble. The choir of the celestial and angelic 
 host concluded the matins of the Virgin with the verse, 
 Benedicamus Domino. When this was done, the 
 Most Holy Mary, with endearing countenance, called 
 to her side the sainted apostle and with much sweet- 
 ness said to him, 'Here, Santiago, my son, is the place 
 marked out and destined for my honour, whereon, 
 by your pious exertions, must a church be construct- 
 
OUR LADY OF THE PILLAR. 263 
 
 ed to my memory. Mark well this pillar whereon I 
 am seated, which my Son and thy Master brought 
 from on high by the hands of angels. Round this 
 shalt thou build the altar of the chapel. Here shall 
 the power of the Most High work prodigies and 
 miracles, through my intercession, for those who, in 
 their necessities, implore my patronage, Here shall 
 this pillar remain to the end of the world, and never 
 shall this city lack true Christians.' 
 
 " Having thus spoken, the Most Holy Mother of 
 the Saviour was borne away by the host of angels 
 to the city of Jerusalem. Santiago, rejoicing in the 
 consolation of this marvellous vision, commenced 
 immediately to build a church on the site of the pro- 
 digy, being assisted in his pious labours by his eight 
 disciples, and preserving with due care the sacred 
 pillar, which is venerated to this day by the faithful 
 in the cathedral of Zaragoza." 
 
 This famous cathedral, which, as tradition goes, 
 occupies the site of the little temple erected eighteen 
 centuries ago by Santiago, is, like most Spanish 
 churches, a mis-shapen, ugly mass without, but with- 
 in it is rich and splendid. Entering a large portal 
 where two or three mendicants were sitting like 
 
264 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 the lame man at the gate of the temple at Jerusalem, 
 I found myself near the famous chapel, which, like 
 a church within a church, rose on beautiful and 
 costly columns of polished jasper, and was sur- 
 mounted by a dome or canopy of the same rich ma- 
 terial. At the steps of this altar a crowd of devotees 
 were kneeling, crossing themselves as their lips 
 moved in prayer, smiting their breasts, and some of 
 them bending their heads down and kissing the 
 pavement. Their eyes were fixed on the miraculous 
 image of the Virgin, which, glittering with gems 
 and gold, stood on the left hand of the gorgeous al- 
 tar, supported by that precious pillar bequeathed to 
 the pious Santiago, and handed down as a rich 
 legacy to the faithful through so many generations. 
 Most of the devotees, who now worshipped with an 
 air of profound humility and contrition at this vene- 
 rated shrine, were females, who indeed always out- 
 number the men in their religious observances ; 
 and many of these were peasant women, who had 
 probably come thither to perform vows made to the 
 Virgin, a very common usage in Catholic countries. 
 Thus a person afflicted with some grievous disease, 
 or in a situation of imminent danger, vows to the 
 
VOTIVE OFFERINGS. 265 
 
 Saint to whom he is most devoted, and in the effi- 
 cacy of whose intercession he most confides, the per- 
 formance of certain religious observances, together 
 with a more substantial proof of gratitude in the 
 shape of a votive picture or a wax model of the 
 afflicted part. Thus one sees so often the shrines 
 in churches hung with miniature legs and arms, 
 eyes and noses, and sometimes little babies ; also 
 pictures, generally of very rough execution, the 
 work of sign-painting artists, or haply the untutored 
 effort of the person himself, representing the devotee 
 thrown from a wagon, or tossed in a shattered bark 
 on the turbulent waves, or stretched on the 'bed of 
 sickness, with the figure pf the Saint descending 
 from the clouds to succour the sufferer. The reader 
 will be readily reminded of the tabulae votivae of the 
 ancients, and will trace to the distant days of Pagan 
 superstition the origin of a custom still preserved 
 by the Christian devotee. 
 
 When the party who has made a vow is pre- 
 vented by sickness or death from fulfilling it, it is 
 not unusual for some conscientious relation or friend 
 to accomplish it for him. Don Ambrosio told me of 
 an instance of a lady and her daughter just arrived 
 23 
 
266 SCENES IN SPAIN, 
 
 from a distant village, who had come to Zaragoza 
 for the sole purpose of fulfilling a vow to the Virgin 
 of the Pillar made by the lady's deceased husband. 
 Though the famous feast-day of that Saint was just 
 at hand, an occasion of much pomp and ceremony 
 as well as of gaiety and merry-making, the widow 
 and her child did not intend to wait for it, conscien- 
 tiously considering that if they made their journey 
 accessary to the gratification of their curiosity, it 
 might lose its merit in the eyes of the Virgin. 
 
 After admiring the beautiful marbles which adorn 
 the shrine of the Pillar, I went with the sacristan to 
 see the jewels of the Virgin, who, as he assured 
 me, was the richest lady in all Zaragoza. With 
 good-natured officiousness, and with as much vanity 
 at the wealth of the sainted Mary as a young girl 
 would exhibit in showing her own finery, he placed 
 in my hands, one after another, splendid rings, neck- 
 laces, broaches, bracelets, buckles, and even watches, 
 the gifts of the devotees who had been flocking for 
 centuries to the shrine. With eyes sparkling with 
 pleasure he bade me examine the heavy settings of 
 these treasures, and the size and splendour of the 
 pearls ; boasting that the queen herself could not 
 
SHRINE OF OUR LADY. 267 
 
 display to the eyes of her admiring courtiers at a 
 royal besamanos, pearls and diamonds of as great 
 price as these of the Blessed Lady of the Pillar. 
 " Look," said he, " at this cross of St. Esprit, present- 
 ed by a French nobleman of that order ; each of 
 those gems is worth its thousands of ducats ; and 
 here," said he, half out of breath with running over 
 the catalogue, " poise this crown of gold and preci- 
 ous stones in your hand, and estimate its weight. 
 You may well suppose, caballero," he continued, 
 " that our Lady does not wear this every day in the 
 year ; it is only when she is attired on her own feast- 
 day in her most splendid vestments. You see," said he, 
 " how heavy it is, and yet it has never worn, nor 
 so much as chafed the head of the image." With a 
 similar air of gravity and wonder the single-minded 
 sacristan also told me, that though the dust of the 
 church accumulated on the garments of the miracu- 
 lous image of the Pillar, it was never found to settle 
 on the face. As I listened to this credulous old man 
 with an air of as much faith as I could muster, pois- 
 ing the while the ponderous crown in my hand, a 
 faded, sallow-faced old woman, whose sharp fea- 
 tures were half hid under a foxy mantilla, and 
 
268 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 whose long rosary announced that she had just been 
 performing her morning devotions, said to me with 
 an air of congratulation, " Ay ! joven caballero, que 
 feliz es usted de tener en la mano esa bendita co- 
 rona?" "Ah ! young gentleman, how happy are you 
 to hold in your hand that blessed crown ?" Wish- 
 ing the poor old dame to enjoy the same gratifica- 
 tion, I passed it to her ; an honour which the jea- 
 lous sacristan seemed to think too great for so hum- 
 ble a person, for he quickly took it away and re- 
 stored it to its casket. 
 
 Having exhibited the treasures of the Lady of the 
 Pillar, the garrulous sacristan entertained me with an 
 eulogiumon the wonderful miracles wrought through 
 her intercession, which were so numerous that en- 
 tire volumes had been filled in narrating them by 
 her pains-taking historians, Don Antonio Fuertes de 
 Viota and Don Feliz de Amada. He also sold me, 
 for four rials, a curious work, giving a detailed ac- 
 count of one of her most renowned miracles, with 
 the copious testimony taken on the subject. It bore 
 the title of " A copy, literal and authentic, of the pro- 
 cess and decision of authorization upon a miracle 
 wrought through the intercession of our Lady of the 
 
SHRINE OF OUR LADY. 269 
 
 Pillar in the village of Calanda, of the archbishop- 
 rick of Zaragoza, the night of the 29th of March, 
 1640, restoring to Miguel Juan Pellicero, native of 
 the said town, a leg, two years and five months after 
 it had been cut off in the hospital of Zaragoza." 
 
 As I came out of the cathedral, I found a group of 
 the common people collected round an itinerant 
 blind fiddler, who was attended by an old woman, 
 the partner, probably, of his bed and board as of his 
 mendicant wanderings, The old man was dressed 
 in the garb of the Aragonese peasantry. He was 
 not as dirty and ragged as one generally finds the 
 mendicant fraternity in Spain ; and in his counte- 
 nance, which was agreeable in spite of his loss of 
 sight, there was a blended expression of benevolence 
 and sadness. After a short preamble in prose on 
 the transitoriness of life and the necessity of the in- 
 tercession of the Holy Virgin of the Pillar, all which 
 he delivered with the professional gravity of a regu- 
 lar divine, he then began, partly in song, partly in 
 recitative, a string of verses on the object and im- 
 portance of saying mass ; accompanying his cracked 
 voice by the dolorous strains of a violin. The crowd 
 listened with great decency and attention, While her 
 23* 
 
270 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 spouse was thus piously employed, the old woman 
 busied herself with the more worldly task of gather- 
 ing in a tin cup the charitable cuartos or ochavos 
 of such of the lookers-on as could afford to cast 
 their feeble mite into the fiddler's treasury, or sought 
 customers for the bundle of ballads and marvellous 
 tales which she carried like a napkin over her arm. 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 ZARAGOZA. 
 
 HAVING made an engagement for an afternoon's 
 ramble in the outskirts of Zaragoza with a quondam 
 captain, whose acquaintance I had formed in the 
 diligence, I despatched, with little delay, a very unat- 
 tractive dinner, in which, as usual, the strong oil of 
 the country was the universal sauce, and sat waiting 
 in the balcony for the arrival of my companion. 
 Here I was fain to assist the troublesome duty of 
 
A VETERAN SOLDIER. 271 
 
 digesting the beans and garbangos, the fowl, the 
 flesh, and the other unnumbered ingredients of an 
 olla podrida, by smoking one of those miscalled 
 Havanas, which the king of Spain, the national 
 tobacconist, deals out to his patient subjects at two 
 cuartos each ; a price less proportioned to the 
 value of his wares than to the hungry calls of his 
 treasury. 
 
 Don Francisco Molido at length arrived. He was 
 a man who had perhaps seen some fifty-five winters ; 
 but his strong though gaunt form still held out with 
 soldier-like fortitude against the siege of time. His 
 gait was still firm, and his figure unbending ; while 
 his dark black eye, that most striking feature in the 
 national physiognomy, still retained much of the fire 
 of his younger days. A certain formality of man- 
 ners, deliberateness of tone, and purity of accent and 
 expression, marked the native of Old Castile, that 
 province once so celebrated for the high honour, and 
 the loyalty and integrity of its inhabitants. I asked 
 Don Francisco, as being at least a well-informed if 
 not an impartial witness, whether his countrymen of 
 Castilla la Vieja still retained these enviable charac- 
 teristics. " That they once deserved their good 
 
272 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 name," said he, " nobody doubts ; but now-a-days 
 there is too much reason to think that the Castillian 
 has become tainted with the general corruption ; 
 for how can you expect the oppressed and the mi- 
 serable to be loyal and honest ?' J As I saw but little 
 of Don Francisco, I will not pretend to say whether 
 he was himself a degenerate son of the high-toned 
 old Castile ; but at all events, if his own theory 
 were correct, he had gone through misfortune and 
 persecution enough to make him not the most honest 
 of men, nor the most attached of the liege subjects 
 of Ferdinand. 
 
 "I served," said he, "in his Catholic majesty's 
 army for twenty-seven years ; and at length, after a 
 snail-paced progress, found myself a captain. By 
 this time I had lost something of the suppleness of 
 youth ; and being a little fagged with service, I was 
 contented to hang up my sword, become a quiet man, 
 and exchange the sound of the fife and drum for the 
 sinecure rank and frugal emoluments of a ( retirado.' 
 But in these plans of quiet I reckoned without my 
 host. The stirring and turbulent times of the Con- 
 stitution came, and when others were drawn into the 
 whirling vortex of strife and tumult, I could not very 
 
A VETERAN SOLDIER. 273 
 
 well escape. You know how the matter went. 
 People, high and low, Absolutionists and Revolu- 
 tionists, swore, right and left, to stand by the Consti- 
 tution ; and so, too, swore his Gracious Majesty, El 
 Senor Don Fernando. By and by the Constitution 
 went by the board, and now many of those who had 
 been its staunchest advocates, with a consistency 
 which did eternal credit to their honesty, bowed 
 down and worshipped the sun of Absolutism, which 
 had been behind a cloud for a little while, but now 
 shone forth again unshorn of its rays. The ingenu- 
 ous monarch, conscience stricken for having fallen 
 into the foul error of winking at free principles, and 
 even the mortal sin of swearing allegiance to them 
 in the face of God and man, now strove to make 
 amends for this heretical transgression. But as it 
 would have been lese majesty to confine or bring to 
 the gallows his own royal person, he contented himself 
 with imprisoning and hanging his subjects. He thus 
 made atonement for those insulted rights of royalty 
 whose source is the Divinity, and offered an oblation 
 of a sweet-smelling savour to the Spanish Hierarchy, 
 which had been very uncivilly treated in the days of 
 the Constitution. 
 
274 
 
 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 " While others were thus unceremoniously thrown 
 into prison, or dangled from the gallows with the 
 verdugo on their shoulders, I was lucky enough to 
 escape the dungeon and the halter, but with the loss 
 of my rank and emoluments of a retired officer. 
 God knows what I should have done when thus 
 turned out like an old horse upon the highway after 
 twenty-seven years' service, had I not fortunately 
 possessed some little private means, whereby I was 
 enabled to eat and drink, and clothe myself withal, 
 until the government was graciously pleased to lift 
 me up from that slough of despondency to the con- 
 dition of an impurificado. Having washed and cleans- 
 ed myself from the filthy stains of political heresy, 
 I was now in a fit and decent state to enter again 
 into the employment of his majesty. But here, too, 
 there was need of much patience and resignation ; 
 for the indefinido is likely to remain in his indefinite 
 condition quite as long as the impurificado waited 
 for his purification. Indeed, the deferred hopes of 
 both these unfortunate classes might be likened to 
 the sad case of the impotent man mentioned in Holy 
 Writ, who had suffered under his infirmity for thirty 
 and eight years, and had so long waited ineffectually 
 
A VETERAN SOLDIER. 275 
 
 beside the pool of Bethesda at Jerusalem. But at 
 last I got through all these tedious stages of political 
 regeneration, and received a destino, or public office 
 at Seville, whose emoluments, however, were not 
 proportioned to the time and trouble, the fees and 
 memorials, I had expended in obtaining it." 
 
 I asked this persecuted veteran why he had not 
 left the country, and attempted to build up his for- 
 tunes on some more favoured soil. But the matter 
 of expatriation with a Spaniard is not so easy ; for 
 it appears that no persons are allowed passports to 
 leave the kingdom without a royal license, obtained 
 on showing some satisfactory cause, and giving 
 nadores or bondsmen for their return. The story 
 of the captain naturally led to a conversation 
 about the situation of the Constitutionalists in 
 Spain, and more particularly at Zaragoza. These 
 unfortunate persons are watched with the greatest 
 jealousy by the police. Even in their most innocent 
 diversions they are the subjects of a tormenting re- 
 straint ; and the malicious and blighting eye of sus- 
 picion not only follows them in public, but cruelly 
 haunts them in the privacy of their dwellings. 
 They are cut off from the dearest enjoyments of so- 
 
276 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 cial intercourse, for they would naturally eschew 
 the companionship of their political enemies, and 
 are expressly forbidden to form reunions of more 
 than three or four persons among themselves, under 
 the penalty of fine or imprisonment at the tender 
 mercy and discretion of the Alcalde. He being, of 
 course, severely orthodox, and withal anxious to re- 
 commend himself as the sworn foe of political heresy, 
 would naturally dispense justice with a heavy hand. 
 The poor Liberals, taught cunning by necessity and 
 hypocrisy by suspicion, may associate together in a 
 sly and under-hand way ; but in these innocent re- 
 unions the sword hangs over them by a single thread, 
 ready to fall at the merest touch of suspicion. I 
 was told by a Constitutionalist of Zaragoza, that one 
 evening one of his friends, a Liberal, had at his house 
 a little tertulia, or party of ladies and gentlemen, 
 brought together for the most innocent object in the 
 world, when the justicia popped in upon them, and 
 marched them all off to prison without respect of 
 sex or persons. Meanwhile Royalists of approved 
 quality are allowed to divert themselves as they 
 please, and may with impunity commit the atrocious 
 crimes of coming together for a game at picquet or 
 
A VETERAN SOLDIER. 277 
 
 a contradance. In return for this oppression, more 
 galling to the poor Liberals from the contrasted license 
 of those who wear the red cockade, they have the 
 only satisfaction of execrating in their hearts the 
 rod that smites them, or breathing their curses in a 
 whisper to the few friends whom they dare to 
 trust 
 
 It may be supposed that Don Francisco did not 
 hold his querulous conversation with me before a 
 multitude of witnesses, like one of our politicians 
 who pours out his discontent at a town meeting, 
 and damns the powers that be in the open tap- 
 room. On the contrary, he took care to close the 
 door of the chamber before touching these forbidden 
 themes, and, indeed, kept peering suspiciously 
 around him, and talked in an under-tone as if he 
 thought even the walls and balconies had ears. 
 " En Espana o es asi o asi ;" " In Spain," said he, 
 " it is either thus or thus ;" first compressing his lips 
 with his finger and thumb, and then pressing his 
 open hand against his throat to imitate the process 
 of strangulation ; as much as to say, you must 
 either keep your mouth shut, or the hangman will 
 choke you into silence. As might be expected, the 
 24 
 
278 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 poor Liberal is ever cowed and crest-fallen, and has 
 as great a horror of the police as poor Sancho of the 
 Holy Brotherhood, or the whilome Jew of the rack 
 and thumbscrews, the fire and faggots, of the Inqui- 
 sition. 
 
 After Don Francisco had vented his indignation 
 on this irritating subject, and found the fire of his 
 fifth cigarillo scorching his stained finger-ends, we 
 started upon our walk, passing through the bustling 
 Plaza del Mercado, and thence by the proud temple 
 of the Virgin to the bridge of the Ebro. As this 
 bridge was the only link of connection between 
 Zaragoza and the opposite village and country, it 
 always offered a crowded and lively scene. Here 
 were constantly passing and re-passing stout Ara- 
 gonese peasants, stern and wild-looking fellows, dri- 
 ving, with many quaint and guttural expressions of 
 reproach and encouragement, accompanied by the 
 more practical eloquence of their cudgels, a string 
 of quiet mules or sleepy asses. Buxom serving- 
 women, too, might be seen carrying tall, long-sided 
 earthen jars, filled with water, on their heads, which 
 they managed to balance without the assistance of 
 their hands : young men and women going to walk 
 
LIFE OP ST. FRANCIS. 279 
 
 on the neighbouring Arboleda ; the round-faced 
 priest, roasting beneath the burden of his hot, black 
 cloak and mammoth sombrero ; and the unwashed 
 friar, haply of the order of the mendicant Francis- 
 cans, with his hooded gown of coarse, gray woollen 
 confined at the waist with a knotted cord, his rosary 
 dangling ostentatiously at his side, his feet half 
 covered with hempen sandals, and a long bag hung 
 over his shoulder well filled with the charitable pro- 
 duce of the day's begging. 
 
 As San Francisco is one of the most venerated of 
 the beatified saints, as the order which he founded 
 is one of the most numerous in Christendom, and as 
 his biography was very remarkable in itself, per- 
 haps a few of the leading facts of his life may be 
 amusing to the curious reader. He was born in 
 the city of Asis in 1182, and his father Bernadon 
 was a tradesman of that place. He called the future 
 saint Giovani at his baptism, but he afterwards got the 
 cognomen of Francisco from the facility with which 
 he learnt the French tongue, which was in those days 
 as necessary in their trade to the merchants of Italy, 
 as it has since become in commerce and diplomacy 
 all the world over, His parents wished to rear up 
 
280 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 the little Frenchman in their own line of life ; but 
 it seems the bustle of business and the higgling of 
 the counter were not made for the single-minded 
 Francisco. In short, he eschewed the warehouse, 
 and employed himself in holy contemplation and de- 
 vout seclusion. While thus engaged, he was seized, 
 says Father Croisset, with a most vehement desire to 
 imitate the poverty and labours of the Saviour, and 
 now found no delight but in ministering to the le- 
 prous and the poor. He made a voyage to Rome, to 
 visit the sepulchres in which reposed the sacred re- 
 mains of the apostles. There, in coming one day 
 out of a church, he met a troop of mendicants, who 
 were assembled to ask alms of the devout at the 
 porch. Church gates, by the way, seem ever to 
 have been a favourite rendezvous of the beggarly 
 fraternity from the time of the lame man that Peter 
 healed at the Beautiful Gate of the temple to the 
 days of the modern Lazzeroni. He divided among 
 them all the money he had to the last sequin ; he 
 gave his garments to one who was half naked, and 
 attired himself in the pauper's unsavoury rags; 
 then sitting down with them, he passed the rest of 
 the day with these unprepossessing companions. 
 
LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS. 281 
 
 Francisco had naturally a spice of aristocracy in 
 his temperament, and was fond not only of cleanli- 
 ness, a fault not often chargeable to the modern fri- 
 ar, but even a lover of magnificence in his attire. 
 This noble victory for ever extinguished in him the 
 worldly passion for cleanliness and fine clothes. 
 He appeared ever after like one born in a lowly and 
 abased condition ; and poverty, that bugbear of this 
 money-making world, became his favourite virtue. 
 
 Soon after he returned to his native Asis ; and one 
 day, while saying his vesper prayers in the old 
 church of Saint Damian, which was then in so 
 ruinous a condition that it threatened to tumble 
 down, he heard a voice as it were from the crucifix 
 on the altar, which bade him to repair the church. 
 He resolved to obey the bidding of the holy voice ; 
 returned to his home, and bethinking himself that 
 he had not so much as a paul in his pocket, he laid 
 his hands upon several pieces of cloth in his father's 
 shop, which the pains-taking tradesman doubtless 
 valued dearly. Having loaded one of his father's 
 horses with them, he eloped to Foligmo, where he 
 sold the clothes and the beast into the bargain . Then 
 returning to Asis, he hied to the house of the chap- 
 24* 
 
282 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 lain of Saint Damian ; he besought him to grant 
 him refuge in the church, and delivered to him all 
 the money he had got for the horse and broadcloths 
 that he might employ it towards repairing the time- 
 worn sanctuary. The honest chaplain admitted 
 him with hearty good will to the hospitality of his 
 house ; but had conscientious scruples about ac- 
 cepting the proffered spoils of Bernadon's warehouse 
 and stable, and apprehensions of an action of trover 
 at the suit of the suffering tradesman. Whereup- 
 on Francisco, with pious obstinacy, laid the mo- 
 ney down on the church-window. The compen- 
 dious biography of Father Croisset, the translation of 
 which by Padre Isla is the favourite manual of the 
 Spanish devotee, does not run sufficiently into de- 
 tail to inform us whether this money ever made its 
 way to the pocket of the rightful owner, or whether 
 it was spent in propping up the tottering towers of 
 Saint Damian. It appears, however, pretty certain, 
 from some circumstances that are mentioned, that 
 the wronged Bernadon never got it ; and it may be 
 inferred that the zealous Saint Francisco at last suc- 
 ceeded in quieting the qualms of the curate. 
 
 Under the protection of the chaplain he spent 
 
LIFE OP ST. FRANCIS. 283 
 
 some days, and employed them in fasts, vigils, and 
 flagellation ; until, at length, his father came, full 
 of fury, and exclaiming that his son had robbed 
 him. The Saint was fain to take refuge in flight 
 from this outpouring of paternal wrath, and remain- 
 ed hidden for some days in a cave ; but at the end 
 of this time, ashamed of his own cowardice, and, 
 perhaps, driven by the fleshly calls of hunger, he 
 sallied from his hiding place, resolved to suffer 
 whatever might befall him. He showed himself in 
 the streets of Asis to his astonished acquaintance, 
 quite disfigured and in a filthy plight. Every body 
 took it for granted that poor Francisco had lost his 
 wits, and a rabble rout of mischievous boys followed 
 him with shouts and whistling. Hearing the noise 
 and seeing the mob, his father came up, and recog- 
 nizing his son, dragged him away to his house, 
 added blows to make his lessons of paternal counsel 
 more impressive, and shut him up in a room as a 
 madman. But his wife, quite despairing to subdue 
 the constancy of her son, let him out when the old 
 man's back was turned, and Francisco flew at once 
 to Saint Damian, and to the arms of his kind friend 
 the chaplain. When Bernadon got intelligence of 
 
284 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 this second elopement, he set out forthwith in pur- 
 suit of him, more distressed at the loss of his clothes 
 and gelding than of his son. But the Saint, filled 
 with a new valour, and animated, says Father 
 Croisset, with the spirit of God, went forth to meet 
 his indignant parent ; and said to him, " I am more 
 God's son than thine, and him only will I serve." 
 " If that be the case," responded the father, " restore 
 me my money, and come with me to renounce your 
 inheritance before the archbishop." " With hearty 
 good will," said Francisco ; and as soon as he found 
 himself in the presence of the prelate, without giving 
 his father time to say a word, he stripped off his 
 garments, leaving nothing to hide his nakedness 
 but the hair-cloth shirt which he wore to mortify 
 his flesh. The garments he delivered to his parent, 
 and renounced, at the same time his patrimony. 
 The bishop, astounded and softened at the sight of 
 this generous sacrifice, embraced him, and covered 
 him with his own flowing robes ; then giving him 
 his benediction, he bade him farewell, and sent him 
 to his hermitage. 
 
 Francisco was now at the age of twenty-five 
 years, when, says father Croisset, having burst all 
 
LIFE OP ST. FRANCIS. 285 
 
 the bonds of flesh and blood, and resigned all those 
 temporal goods that had detained him in the world, 
 he went forth to seek a distant solitude, singing 
 by the way the praises of God in the French 
 tongue. In a certain wood he encountered some 
 robbers, who regaled him with a beating, and rolled 
 him in a snow-bank. But this uncomfortable treat- 
 ment did not cool his zeal ; on the contrary, glad to 
 suffer for religion's sake, he is said to have after- 
 wards counted this adventure among the greatest 
 pieces of good fortune that had ever befallen him. 
 
 After this he spent much time in ministering to the 
 sick in hospitals, where he is said to have cured a 
 leper by embracing him. He also went about beg- 
 ging alms to rebuild the dilapidated church of Saint 
 Damian, which still, it seems, remained in a ruinous 
 condition in spite of the sale of the horse and broad- 
 cloth. It is said, that one day, at mass he heard these 
 words of the evangelist, " Provide neither gold, nor 
 silver, nor brass in your purses, nor scrip for your 
 journey, neither two coats, neither shoes, nor yet 
 staves." Whereupon he assumed this as the rule of 
 his life. He cast off his shoes, threw away his staff, 
 renounced money for ever, left himself with but one 
 
286 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 tunic, and dismissing the cincture of leather with 
 which it was fastened, he girded his loins with a 
 common rope. Having thus brought himself to as 
 unsophisticated a condition as poor Tom in the play, 
 and owing " the worm no silk and the cat no per- 
 fume," he went forth to preach in public. His pro- 
 selytes were called Penitents of Asis ; and such was 
 the increase of Saint Francisco's spiritual family, that 
 even in his life they numbered six thousand. The 
 bishop of Asis, his bosom friend and counsellor, 
 with a prudent eye to the temporal welfare of the 
 disciples, was of the opinion that some rents should 
 be appropriated for the subsistence of the Friars ; 
 but the single-minded Francisco, with a disinterest- 
 edness not always evinced by holy men, remained 
 inflexible, and was absolutely opposed to their having 
 any other rents than those of Divine providence and 
 the charity of the faithful. In so doing, however, he 
 did not lean on a broken reed ; for never was Fran- 
 ciscan friar, from that day to this, known to lack good 
 cheer. Meanwhile, it was found necessary to build 
 many convents, since, we are told, the cities of Arez- 
 zo, Pisa, Bologna, Florence, and many others, cla- 
 moured for them as earnestly as some of their dege- 
 
LEGEND OF THE SAINT. 287 
 
 generate citizens have since prayed to be rid of 
 them. 
 
 None of his disciples excelled him in the art of 
 self-mortification. He scarce ever touched cooked 
 food, and ever denied to his rebellious senses what 
 he thought might gratify them. If in the charitable 
 donations of the faithful he met with any thing of 
 special gusto, lest it should tickle his palate he sea- 
 soned it with ashes. He treated his body with the 
 greatest rigour and contempt, calling it his donkey, 
 and saying "thistles were good enough food for it." 
 His usual bed was the naked earth ; and, like the pa- 
 triarch Jacob, he used a stone for a pillow. 
 
 These excessive labours and privations, it may be 
 supposed, hastened the close of his mortal career. He 
 died in the year 1226 ; and it is recorded, that he had 
 scarcely expired, when the glory which his beatified 
 soul enjoyed seemed to communicate itself to his 
 body. By the ordinary laws of nature, " this mor- 
 tal coil," when we shuffle it off, falls a prey to corrup- 
 tion, and presently becomes a loathsome and hide- 
 ous thing. But the corpse of Saint Francisco re- 
 mained unchanged, and exhaled a delicious odour, 
 which filled the air with fragrance. On the feet, 
 
288 SCENES IN SPAIN* ' 
 
 hands, and side were seen, divinely impressed, wounds 
 like those of the crucified Saviour ; and when, two 
 years after, the body was disinterred to be deposited in 
 a church erected in his honour, they found it entire ; 
 the flesh being uncorrupted and unconsumed, main- 
 taining itself in an erect posture without any sup- 
 port, with the eyes open and raised towards heaven, 
 and the blood of the wounds still red and liquid. 
 Nay, two hundred and twenty years afterwards he 
 was seen in this same posture by the Pope Nicholas 
 V. accompanied by a cardinal, a bishop, his secretary, 
 the superior of the convent, and three other devout 
 persons ; all which was set forth in authentic docu- 
 ments, doubtless preserved to this day with religious 
 care. In these, the incredulous reader, if such there 
 be, may find "confirmation strong" of all that, under 
 the authority of Father Croisset, we have here set 
 forth for his edification in saintly legends. 
 
 But to return from this long digression into which 
 the sight of a gray friar has betrayed us, the captain 
 and myself took our way across the bridge of the 
 Ebro, directing our steps towards the convent of San 
 Lorenzo. This spacious edifice has a beautiful site, 
 its spacious balconies looking forth on the Ebro which 
 
CONVENT OF SAN LORENZO. 289 
 
 washes its walls. In its day of prosperity it must 
 have been one of the choicest hives of these reli- 
 gious drones. But, unluckily, their drowsy retirement 
 was disturbed by the bombs and cannon of the de- 
 stroying Frenchmen, who sent half the building 
 tumbling about their ears. The other half, shorn 
 of its splendour, still shelters the remnant of its in- 
 mates. As we groped our way among the blacken- 
 ed ruins, we came, in one of the lower rooms, upon 
 a troop of half-naked, sunburnt children, who were 
 nestling in filth and wretchedness round a dirty wo- 
 man, the mother of the brood ; while a mendicant 
 wretch, perhaps the father of this hopeful progeny, 
 lay in a corner asleep, wrapped in his tattered man- 
 ta. These were probably tenants by sufferance of 
 the ruined cloisters of San Lorenzo. The woman 
 gathered her ragged garments about her, and pushed 
 away her uncombed hair from her eyes as she con- 
 ducted us, among crumbling arches and prostrate 
 walls, towards the entrance of that part of the con- 
 vent still used by the friars. 
 
 We found but few of the cloisters entire. These, 
 and the fine gallery that looks down upon the Ebro 
 and upon the antiquated domes and turrets of Za- 
 
 25 
 
290 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 ragoza, contrasted with the gay verdure of the fer- 
 tile Vega, were exhibited to us by one of the bro- 
 thers of San Lorenzo. He was an old man, very 
 fat and coarse, attired in a coarse woollen gar- 
 ment ; his head was almost bare, there being only a 
 narrow ring of thin gray hair running round the 
 skull just above the ears. He seemed a good-na- 
 tured old fellow, quite free from malice and uncha- 
 ritableness, except on the subject of the French. To 
 have been unceremoniously turned out of doors to 
 the ugly music of whistling bullets, bursting bombs, 
 and the convent towers toppling down, was indeed 
 quite enough to stir even the sluggish blood of a 
 friar. On this and many other themes, of which 
 the favourite one was the former grandeur and dig- 
 nity of his convent, the old man rattled away with 
 the garrulity of age, animating his discourse from 
 time to time with a pinch of snuff, of which he in- 
 vited us to take, presenting his box with a gracious 
 smile, and a " Para servir a usted, caballero" " At 
 your worship's service." 
 
 Returning by the sturdy old bridge, which pro- 
 mises to withstand the attacks of as many centuries 
 as it has already braved, we wound our way through 
 
THE HUERTA. 291 
 
 the narrow streets of Zaragoza to the Puerta Que- 
 mada. This gate, I was told, derived its name from 
 the autos-de-fe of the Inquisition being formerly held 
 there. It was the scene of many a desperate onset 
 and resistance in the gloomy days of the siege ; for 
 the walls of the houses are still covered with the 
 marks of musket-balls. Passing the gate, we emerg- 
 ed from the city upon the banks of the little stream 
 called the Huerta, which now flowed quietly along, 
 a mere unpretending rivulet ; but which sometimes 
 becomes a furious torrent. This happened the year 
 before, when, swollen by the rains, it overleapt its 
 banks, and swept away several bridges in its furious 
 career. Beside the little thread of water that crept 
 lazily through the half-naked bed of the stream, 
 crowds of busy washerwomen were down on their 
 knees beating clothes clean with a stick after the 
 fashion of the slovenly laundresses of Spain and 
 France. Carts, too, laden with grapes, and drawn 
 by stout mules, were seen fording the stream ; for the 
 slow-motioned Ayuntamiento had not yet repaired 
 the ruined bridge hard by. The labours of the 
 beasts, as they toiled across the bed of the Huerta, 
 were animated by the cries and cudgels of sway- 
 
292 
 
 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 thy peasants, with their hands and faces stained, and 
 their garments red with the juice of the grape. Be- 
 fore us stretched the beautiful and fertile Vega, gay 
 with the verdure of a laboured cultivation, and dot- 
 ted with casas de campo, or summer-seats of the 
 citizens. It is not in the neighbourhood of Zara- 
 goza, as in the cheerless and deserted vicinity of 
 Madrid, and of almost all Spanish towns, where the 
 insecurity of life and property shuts up the people 
 within the asylum of the city gates. The lower 
 classes of the Zaragozians have, indeed, the charac- 
 ter of a turbulent race, prone to revolt, and ready to 
 revenge an injury or an insult by the impromptu 
 punishment of the knife, rather than by the slow- 
 handed and uncertain retribution of the law. But 
 they are said not to be much addicted to robbery 
 and unprovoked outrage ; and certainly the sum- 
 mer-houses scattered over the Vega would seem to 
 prove that the assertion is true. 
 
 As we wandered along the quiet banks of the 
 Huerta, my companion pointed out to me a large 
 and commodious building, then in the progress of 
 erection, and destined to accommodate a brother- 
 hood of the Bare-footed Carmelites. The unspar- 
 
CONVENT OF CARMELITES. 
 
 293 
 
 ing French, with their villanous saltpetre, had 
 blown these idlers out of house and home. But 
 though these unshod devotees are mendicants, who, 
 as the phrase is, " viven por las alforgas," that is to 
 say, live by the alms with which the pious fill the 
 capacious bags of striped cotton which they carry 
 about on their shoulders, they had yet found means 
 to rebuild a snug habitation, and since, greatly to 
 enlarge their abode. How the poverty-stricken 
 Spaniards contrive to support not only the herds of 
 beggars who swarm the streets, but also those crowd- 
 ed hives of religious mendicants, the friars, Heaven 
 only knows. But such is the fact ; and the sturdy 
 condition of these worthies of the cowl and rosary, 
 shows that they do not lead a starvling life. 
 
 The bare-footed Carmelite wears a tunic of coarse 
 brown cloth, with a sort of cloak or gown of white 
 flannel, with a hood which may be drawn over the 
 head. He also protects the soles and toes of his feet 
 with the Yalencian sandal made of plaited cords, an 
 ingenious compromise with that rule of the order 
 which requires him to go unshod. On a journey 
 he wears a long and broad-brimmed white hat, 
 shaped like those of the clergy ; but in his ordinary 
 25* 
 
294 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 walks he usually goes bare-headed, which displays 
 to due advantage his shaven skull. At his girdle he 
 carries a formidable rosary, as long, in sailor phrase, 
 as the main-top bow-line ; it is of that sort called the 
 rosary of Jerusalem, and has more than a hundred 
 beads. Now, for each of these beads an Ave Maria 
 is or should be said every day ; and hence the 
 length of his rosary is an ostentatious, though 
 haply hypocritical, standard, by which the laity may 
 measure the amount of his diurnal devotions. 
 
 After a pleasant ramble with Don Francisco, we 
 came back at nightfall to Puerta Q,uemada. The 
 washerwomen having finished their labours, were 
 returning from the river-side with bundles of wet 
 clothes on their heads. The tired vintner was com- 
 ing from the vineyard with his last load of grapes, 
 lazily carolling, to amuse himself and cheer his 
 tired beast, odds and ends of Spanish ballads, a verse 
 from the hota of the Aragonese or the national bo- 
 lero. Just within the gate a crowd of peasants were 
 collected ; for this is a point of reunion, where the 
 labourers who want employment come at the even- 
 ing hour to make contracts for the next day. 
 
 Every thing in the hour and scene was of a quiet, 
 
DON AMADEO. 295 
 
 peaceful character. I could with difficulty believe 
 that this gate, not many years before, had beheld 
 the furious and sanguinary struggle between the 
 headlong Frenchmen and the loyal Aragonese ; or 
 that, in more distant times, on the very spot where I 
 stood, the faggot had been kindled for the helpless 
 prey of the Inquisition, and the air often rang with 
 the death-shrieks of its victims. 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 ZARAGOZA. 
 
 AMONG the few acquaintances I made at Zarago- 
 za was a young scion of the law, one Don Amadeo 
 Rivera, who, to a gay disposition, a tolerable share of 
 legal knowledge, and those man-of-the- world man- 
 ners which are characteristic of his profession, added 
 an ardent love of liberty, and a generous sorrow for 
 the fallen fortunes of his country. In this last re- 
 
296 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 spect he was like almost all young Spaniards, in the 
 middling walks of life, of educated and thinking 
 minds. These form the most respectable portion 
 of the nation, elevated as they are by education 
 above the benighted peasantry, and superior, in all 
 but wealth and lordly lineage, to the degenerate and 
 besotted nobility. But, unfortunately, those two great 
 component parts of the Spanish population, they who 
 are too ignorant to know the cause of their own mi- 
 sery, and those who are wedded to despotism by the 
 fear of having their titles and estates snatched from 
 them by the equalizing hand of revolution, so far 
 outnumber the disheartened friends of freedom, that 
 they can do no more than indulge in secret expecta- 
 tions and unavailing regrets. Patience or the scaf- 
 fold is the sad alternative. 
 
 Don Amadeo, coming one afternoon to smoke his 
 cigarillo with me, opened my eyes ^to the character 
 and accomplishments of the worthy Don Ambrosio 
 Salsareta. He was, in truth, the person whom I have 
 already mentioned as having once emptied his pock- 
 ets at the bidding of Don Ambrosio. The latter, 
 not perhaps supposing that the unceremonious flight 
 of a few score of ducats from Don Amadeo's purse to 
 
DON AMADEO. 
 
 297 
 
 his own could have awakened any suspicions in the 
 lawyer's mind, had that very morning applied to him 
 for a loan of money. It seems that the old fellow 
 had been outwitted in his own trade by certain 
 sharpers, who kept a thriving monte table in a pri- 
 vate and genteel way at Zaragoza, and of which the 
 head magician was a black-eyed dame, of winning 
 manners and agreeable person. Hither had hied the 
 self-confident Don Ambrosio, little thinking that, 
 like Sir Andrew Aguecheck in the play, he should 
 find this deceptive Viola as ' cunning in fence' as 
 himself. But he paid dear for his temerity ; for 
 they stripped him doubloon by doubloon down to 
 the last piece in his purse ; and thus the hapless gam- 
 bler realized but too bitterly the old Spanish saying 
 of " coming for wool and going away shorn." 
 
 As Don Amadeo was quite contented with the con- 
 tribution he had already made to Don Ambrosio's 
 purse, he found some plausible pretext for declining 
 the loan, and now cautioned me against this cavalier 
 of industry. As he thought I might find more agree- 
 able lodgings in the house where he was himself liv- 
 ing, I went with him to see his landlord. This was 
 a little tailor in the street of the Pack-saddle, near the 
 
298 
 
 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 market-place. By much industry and thrift he had 
 gained a moderate competency, whereby he was en- 
 abled to take upon himself the rent of a tolerable 
 house ; in which, while he plied the needle and 
 shears in the little shop below, his wife, a stirring 
 body, turned a penny above stairs by taking lodgers. 
 Her rooms had been usually occupied by such young 
 literary pilgrims as came to worship at the antiqua- 
 ted shrines of Latin and Metaphysics in the Univer- 
 sity of Zaragoza. But as that establishment was now 
 bolted and barred by the jealousy of the government, 
 the wife of the Sastre was fain to receive any other 
 strangers who offered. Besides my friend Don Ama- 
 deo, she had another young lawyer, and a family of 
 Mexicans, who had been driven across the water to 
 the home of their ancestors by the troubles that dis- 
 tracted that beautiful but ill-governed country. 
 
 I found my future host, Sefior Casimiro Retazo, a 
 pale-faced little man, whose figure wanted the sturdy 
 stout-legged proportions of the Aragonese, and had 
 doubtless been wasted by the sedentary confinement 
 of his calling. But though the outward man seemed 
 broken down by a too diligent devotion to the goose 
 and needle, it had not affected his moral constitution ; 
 
LODGINGS IN ZARAGOZA. 299 
 
 j 
 
 for he overflowed with good nature, and was one of 
 the most civil, laughter-loving little men one could 
 see any where. His shop was not a very spacious 
 one, and seemed built on the same proportions as its 
 occupant : it was hung round with various jackets, 
 breeches, and cloaks, in different stages of progress ; 
 while for ornament's sake were displayed at inter- 
 vals some dusty engravings of the bull-fight, and also 
 a table almanac, upon which were set forth the days 
 of the various saints, with a curious statement of the 
 religious observances to be kept at certain times and 
 the indulgences to be thereby obtained. 
 
 Seiior Casimiro welcomed Don Amadeo's return 
 with much heartiness, and rising from his stool, pla- 
 ced himself, house, and household, at the disposition 
 of the stranger cavalier in the due form of Spanish 
 politeness. Being informed of my errand, he called 
 his wife as assistant counsel in the case, or rather 
 turned over the whole matter to her superior discre- 
 tion. Dona Margarita accordingly led me up a nar- 
 row, antiquated staircase, whose strange turnings 
 and windings spoke volumes for the ingenuity of 
 the architect, who seemed to have exhausted his craft 
 in setting convenience and order at defiance. We 
 
300 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 I 
 
 at length arrived, after a very dark and roundabout 
 journey, at the second story, where the hostess ushered 
 me into a snug little apartment, which had quite an 
 air of comfort when compared with the desolate di- 
 mensions of the chamber in the Fonda. It was gar- 
 nished with a goodly store of rush-bottomed chairs 
 and quaint chests of drawers ; two or three saints 
 smiled in coarse woodcuts from their curiously carv- 
 ed frames ; and the miniature corpse of Saint Cathe- 
 rine, done in wax-work, with her nun's smock, her 
 rosary and rope girdle, and a crucifix on her bosom, 
 quietly reposed beneath a glass case on the cupboard. 
 I liked the looks both of my landlady and the room ; 
 and when Doila Margarita seconded these favourable 
 impressions by the promise of a good dinner, con- 
 sisting of a soup, a puchero, with its manifold repre- 
 sentations of the animal and vegetable creation, and 
 a supplementary hare or partridge, I closed at once 
 with her proposition, and assured her I should be 
 with her that very afternoon, " Cayga que cayga ;" 
 " Come what come may." 
 
 Accordingly, in the afternoon I delivered my bag- 
 gage to a broad-shouldered woman, and paid my 
 bill to the slovenly hostess, who rated the chamber- 
 
LODGINGS IN ZARAGOZA. 301 
 
 maid and commended me to the protection of God 
 all in the same breath. I also took an affectionate 
 farewell of Don Ambrosio, who assured me he was 
 my faithful servant, begged I would command him 
 at all times, and wished me all kinds of good luck. 
 
 I had no reason to regret my change of domicil 
 or company. Indeed. I presently became acquainted 
 with ail the inmates of the house from top to bottom, 
 down to a quiet, meditative little ass, which was lodg- 
 ed in a stable quite under ground, and beneath the 
 kitchen of Dona Margarita. This meek and unas- 
 suming little beast had rather a sinecure office, being 
 only led forth twice a-day by the kitchen maid, with 
 three or four large earthen jars set in a wooden frame 
 on his back to bring water from a fountain near the 
 Ebro. During the rest of the day, secure from the 
 fleas and heat, the Capitan, for such was his name, 
 stood demurely in his stable, looking as grave as 
 Archimedes in his study. These subterranean quar- 
 ters he shared with a tall, high-blooded charger, 
 beneath whose belly he might have walked without 
 touching his ears, and who every morning bore his 
 master, a cavalry colonel, gaily forth to muster or 
 parade. Whether the diminutive and humble Capi- 
 26 
 
302 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 tan felt his inferiority in rank and size to the colonel's 
 charger, or whether nature had given the ass but 
 little sympathy, certain it was that there appeared 
 to be no sociability between these fellow-lodgers. 
 The horse ate his barley in selfish solitude at one 
 end of the dark chamber, and Capitan at the other 
 munched his stingy pittance of cut straw and a 
 pennyworth of refuse greens, envying, if envy could 
 enter the head of an ass, the luxurious repast of his 
 more favoured companion. 
 
 At length the feast day of the Virgin, the constant 
 theme of Dofia Margarita's praises and anticipations, 
 drew nigh. The eve of the day was celebrated with 
 much gaiety, and I found no little amusement in 
 looking down at the crowd from my balcony, or 
 mingling among them disguised in a cloak and som- 
 brero. The narrow street of the Pack-saddle was 
 crowded with people; for nearly opposite Senor 
 Casimiro's shop an altar was erected against the wall 
 of a house, upon which Was placed an image of 
 the Virgin ; her garments bespangled with finery, her 
 head adorned with a tinsel crown, and her counte- 
 nance, which did but little credit to the skill of the 
 carver, irradiated by the light of many lamps. Be- 
 
FEAST OP THE VIRGIN. 303 
 
 neath the altar, in a balcony, a band of musicians 
 played contradanzas, waltzes, and lively national 
 airs, among which the Jota of the Aragonese seemed 
 to be the favourite. A crowd of people was con- 
 stantly circulating past the altar through the street 
 of the Pack-saddle, by the market place, the square 
 of Saint Anthony, and so by the street of the Silver- 
 smith towards the Church of the Virgin. As I fell 
 in with the current and passed beneath the arched 
 way of the prison, I found the miserable captives 
 singing at the top of their lungs to attract the atten- 
 tion of the crowd, while their alms-gathering bags 
 circulated with unwonted activity between the ground 
 and the gratings. The poor creatures were shrouded 
 in darkness ; but here and there, at the windows, the 
 fire of a cigarillo showed that some of them had 
 found means to purchase that darling luxury of the 
 Spaniard. 
 
 Some of the streets through which the grand pro- 
 cession was to pass on the following day were deco- 
 rated with lamps displayed in the balconies, and 
 many of them with transparencies, the impromptu 
 efforts of untutored hands, representing many very 
 queer, and sometimes very equivocal subjects. Each 
 
304 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 picture had its explanatory inscription, and occa- 
 sionally both the painting and the comment were 
 equally indecent. I could not understand the state 
 of morals that could permit such gross exhibitions 
 not only to be exposed to the vulgar gaze, but even 
 to stare in the face, on the morrow, the saintly pro- 
 cession of priests, monks, and friars, nay, the image 
 of the Blessed Virgin. It was probably a custom 
 sanctioned by long usage, and handed down from a 
 dark, unpolished age. Some of these daubs, with- 
 out having the fault of indecency, had some preten- 
 sions to humour. As, for instance, one in which a 
 a long-eared donkey stared the spectator in the face, 
 with the inscription, " Yo soy burro, ya somos dos," 
 " I am an ass, so there's a pair of us." 
 
 Entering the Church of the Pillar, I found a great 
 crowd of people on their knees before the altar of 
 the venerated Virgin, praying the Salve. They were 
 principally of the lower class, and the majority were 
 women. I never witnessed more profound solemnity 
 and devotion than were impressed upon the counte- 
 nances of these people as they gazed on the hallowed 
 shrine. However the Protestant maybe disposed to 
 say to the Catholic in the spirit of self-praise, " I am 
 
FEAST OP THE VIRGIN. 305 
 
 wiser and more sincere than thou art, and my notions 
 of religion are purified from the gross leaven of su- 
 perstition," he might at least learn, from the conduct 
 of the Catholic devotee before the altar of his 
 Saints, a lesson of at least apparent contrition arid 
 humility. 
 
 And here I might mention a very singular super- 
 stition connected with the shrine of the Pillar, and 
 which was told me by Dona Margarita, herself a 
 frequent worshipper there. She informed me, that it 
 is forbidden to say mass before that particular altar, 
 and that if any one transgressed this rule, the hand 
 of God would visit the offender with instant death, 
 an example of which had once happened. Detect- 
 ing in my countenance a lurking expression of in- 
 credulity, she shook her head with a serious air, 
 adding, " due no es broma, Seflor, yo lo creo bien," 
 " 'Tis no joke, sir, I am certain of it." 
 
 As the people passed on their way to the grand 
 altar, they stopped and knelt down at a table, where 
 sat a priest, having in his hand a sacred relic with 
 which he touched the faces of the devout, making 
 with it the sign of the cross, I observed many 
 mothers leading young children by the hand, or bear- 
 26* 
 
306 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 ing their infants in their arms to be blessed by this 
 miraculous relic. It was probably a bone of some 
 venerated Saint. 
 
 The cathedral of the Virgin of the Pillar bears 
 no comparison in dignity and impressiveness of 
 style to the venerable Gothic pile of the Aseo. 
 Thither I have often gone, at the twilight hour 
 of the Oracion, to gaze with a certain solemn, 
 chastened feeling upon the gigantic columns and 
 majestic arches of that noble edifice, obscurely 
 lighted by a few faint lamps scattered here and 
 there before the shrines ; the stillness and solitude 
 of the place and hour being broken at intervals by 
 the deep-toned chant of the choir, or the voice of a 
 priest faintly heard repeating the evening prayer. 
 
 In this stately church of the Aseo is an image of 
 the Saviour, much venerated, and which, according 
 to the account of my good landlady, Dona Margari- 
 ta, whose faith on these subjects was unbounded, 
 had been the means of curing as many maladies as 
 the Virgin of the Pillar, though never, perhaps, the 
 source of so wonderful a miracle as the restoration 
 of the long-lost leg to that pious beggar, Miguel 
 Juan Pellicero. 
 
PROCESSION OF THE ROSARY. 307 
 
 The morning of the day of the Virgin was usher- 
 ed in by the procession of the Rosario. This cere- 
 mony is a peculiar form of devotion addressed to the 
 Virgin. It consists, say the divines, of fifteen Pater 
 Nosters, or repetitions of the Lord's prayer, and one 
 hundred and fifty salutations of the Blessed Virgin. 
 The learned may, perhaps, one day decide the vexed 
 question of the institution of the Rosario, which has 
 given the heads of the curious as much trouble as 
 the long-disputed birthplace of the blind bard. The 
 subject, as yet, is left in as indefinite a position as 
 the coffin of the prophet hung in air between earth 
 and Heaven ; for some attribute its institution to 
 Lebycas, some to St. Benedict, some support with 
 holy fervour the pretensions of the venerable Bede ; 
 and others will have it that all these pious fathers 
 of the church must give place to that pious warrior, 
 Peter the Hermit. One thing is certain, that the 
 Rosary has been for many long centuries a hallowed 
 observance of the Spanish devotee. 
 
 The procession which I saw on this occasion at 
 Zaragoza was headed by two peasants in the pic- 
 turesque garb of Aragon, bearing silver salvers in 
 their hands, wherein were received the contribu- 
 
308 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 tions of the pious. As they passed along there were 
 but few houses from which some one did not come 
 forth with an eleemosynary real or cuarto. The giv- 
 ers of alms were generally women, and they kissed 
 the coin devoutly before laying it upon the dish, 
 with probably a secret prayer for God's blessing on 
 the offering ; for these alms are applied in saying 
 masses for the souls of those who give them. Next 
 to these plate-bearers came musicians, with various 
 instruments, principally the trombone, each of whom 
 was attended by a ragged urchin who bore on a 
 board the music of the Salve. Then came a curate 
 in ecclesiastical robes, who was followed by two 
 bearers of standards, on one of which was repre- 
 sented our Lady of Carmel, on the other our Lady 
 of the Conception. To these succeeded the bearers 
 of faroles, or lanterns, curiously adorned, and in an 
 antiquated taste ; the procession being closed by a 
 promiscuous crowd of towns-people. The deep- 
 toned chant of the priests and people, the succeeding 
 death-like silence, the solemn sound of the trom- 
 bone, and the general expression of devotion visible 
 in the countenances of the worshippers of the Vir- 
 gin, gave a more imposing air to this unpretending 
 
GIANTS AND DWARFS. 309 
 
 procession than usually marks the more laboured 
 and gorgeous displays of the Church. 
 
 The streets and squares of Zaragoza were the 
 scene of unwonted life and bustle all day long, par- 
 ticularly the Square of the Pillar, where a motley 
 rabble had assembled to gaze at a strange and time- 
 honoured exhibition. Three huge pasteboard gi- 
 ants, two having the countenances of men but wear- 
 ing a feminine garb consisting of flowing robes of 
 calico, and one whose beardless face and dangling 
 locks bespoke the softer sex, stalked about on the 
 shoulders of men snugly hid beneath their robes 
 and petticoats, so that it seemed as if the figures 
 themselves possessed life and action. These colos- 
 sal worthies were escorted by several enanos, or 
 dwarfs, made, too, of pasteboard, and similarly at- 
 tired ; so that the person concealed beneath seemed 
 part of the figure itself. They had big deformed 
 heads, hideous staring eyes, and a wide open 
 mouth of unnatural dimensions, through which the 
 bearer of the image reconnoitered, like the steel-clad 
 warrior through the sight-holes of his helmet, and 
 so picked his way through the crowd. 
 
 The boys, those urchins so prone to mischief all 
 
310 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 the world over, treated the giants with great respect 
 in consideration of their awful stature and command- 
 ing air ; but the luckless dwarfs they greeted with 
 shouts and whistling, and pelted with melon rinds. 
 These disrespectful salutations the dwarfs received, 
 with much gravity and resignation, patiently front- 
 ing the offenders, and receiving the missiles on their 
 pasteboard skulls, which were a much more effec- 
 tual guard against these innocent weapons than the 
 frail paper visor of Don Quixote against the sturdy 
 blows of the choleric Biscayan. But ever and anorn 
 the dwarf would forget his passive fortitude, and 
 gathering up his calico petticoats to leave his legs 
 unembarrassed, would start in pursuit of the near- 
 est offender. Whereupon the whole rabble rout 
 would take to their heels, and leaving the devil 01 
 
 the dwarf to take the hindmost, scamper wildly 
 
 
 
 across the Plaza. If the dwarf succeeded in catch- 
 ing any of them, he rewarded him by a good thump- 
 ing with his pasteboard head ; a retribution which 
 made more noise than it did damage, and which, I 
 observed, he inflicted on such of the peasants as per- 
 versely refused to give him alms. But the boys, 
 no wise discouraged by such examples of wrath, 
 
THE GRAND PROCESSION. 311 
 
 returned to the attack with hootings and melon 
 rinds as soon as his back was turned, and hovered, 
 like so many bush-fighting Indians, on the flanks 
 and rear of the receding enemy. 
 
 I was unable to get any satisfactory reply to my 
 inquiries about the origin of this singular accompa- 
 niment of the festivities of the Virgin. In the time 
 of the Constitution this strange and ridiculous exhi- 
 bition was abolished ; but after the downfall of that 
 short-lived domination, the authorities, who knew, 
 and were shrewd enough to encourage, the attach- 
 ment of the rabble to their ancient customs, restored 
 them their lost dwarfs and giants. 
 
 In the afternoon every one was on the alert to see 
 the grand procession of the Yirgin. Each pious 
 housewife had duly decorated her balconies with 
 drapery, usually the gayest bed-quilt her house af- 
 forded : or, if her establishment was on a more luxu- 
 rious scale, with hangings of silk or damask. This 
 is not a gratuitous display, it being required that 
 this mark of respect should be exhibited in all the 
 streets through which the procession passes. Per- 
 haps an account of the procession, the order in 
 which it went, and the motley costumes which were 
 
312 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 displayed in it, may be interesting to the curious 
 reader. 
 
 The procession was headed by a standard borne by 
 an idiot from the mad-house, who was followed by six 
 male and as many female unfortunates labouring un- 
 der the same hopeless infirmity. The men were clothed 
 in garments of green and brown, with spatterdashes 
 reaching to the knee of the colour of ashes ; the idiot 
 women also wore garments of the same colours as 
 those of the men, and on the head a gauze cap of an- 
 tique fashion. These were followed by the foundling 
 boys dressed as friars, and the foundlinggirls attired as 
 nuns of the order of the Franciscan Philippines. Next 
 came the sacristans of the various parishes, bearing 
 large wax tapers, folio wed by one who bore the great 
 candlestick of the Pillar, escorted by mace-bearers 
 clad in white, and with long robes of white damask, 
 who carried on their shoulders massive maces of sil- 
 ver. Then came the order of the Shod Trinitarians, 
 wearing brown cloaks and white tunics, with a par- 
 ti-coloured cross of blue and flesh-coloured cloth on 
 the left breast. After these followed the friars of 
 Saint Anthony, clad all in black : and then the Capu- 
 chins, with brown tunic and cowl, a very large hood 
 
THE GRAND PROCESSION. 313 
 
 and with beards unshorn descending to their breasts. 
 These were followed by the bare-footed Carmelites, 
 whose dress is the same as that of those who go shod, 
 except that they wear no stockings, for they have 
 abandoned the uncomfortable and self-mortifying 
 fashion of leaving the foot wholly unprotected. 
 Then came the Augustins, clad in black, and differing 
 only from those of St. Anthony in that the former 
 wear a very capacious hood ; next the Franciscan 
 Philippines, with tunics of sky-blue cloth, who were 
 folio wed by the Carmelites in brown tunics and white 
 cloaks. After these came the wax candle of the Ca- 
 thedral, borne by the sacristan, who was accompanied 
 by six lads dressed as monks. Then followed the 
 friars of the order of Mercy, clad in a white cloak and 
 tunic, and the Dominicans with black cloaks and 
 white tunics ; the latter, the richest order of all that 
 have been enumerated. Each fraternity of friars 
 was closed by one or two bearing consecrated relics. 
 Then followed the curates with vestments of tissue 
 of gold, embroidered with flowers of silver ; next 
 the image of the Virgin, which stands at the altar of 
 the canons, borne by eight ordenados, or newly or- 
 dained clergymen. Behind was carried the ample 
 
 27 
 
314 
 
 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 canopy of tissue of silver with flowers of gold ; at 
 its side, and following it, were canons in their sacred 
 vestments. These again were followed by the mace- 
 bearers of the city, in robes of white damask, with 
 gilded maces, preceding the civil authorities and the 
 Captain General of Zaragoza and the province, who 
 was supported on either side by the Intendente of the 
 Police and the chief officer of the royal estates. The 
 whole procession was closed by individual devotees, 
 and an undistinguished rabble of grown people and 
 children. 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. 
 
 JOURNEY TO BARCELONA. 
 
 IT was with some regret that I left the venera- 
 ble city of Zaragoza. My feelings had been from 
 the first drawn towards her with a sort of reveren- 
 tial respect, by the recollection of the glorious patriot- 
 ism and stoical endurance of her children. There 
 was to me something more attractive in her shat- 
 
DEPARTURE FROM ZARAGOZA. 315 
 
 tered convents and ruinous churches, and in the 
 thousand traces of violence which the destroying 
 hand of war had left in her time-worn streets, than 
 in the splendour of many European cities still in the 
 freshness and spring-time of their existence. Asso- 
 ciation hallowed her decay ; so that, though fallen 
 and desolate, I approached her with the sort of feeling 
 with which one might gaze on the mangled and 
 prostrate form of a stout and true-hearted veteran, 
 who, though vanquished, had died manfully, sword 
 in hand, and with his face to the enemy. Besides 
 this sort of gratification drawn from recollections of 
 the past, I found my time agreeably whiled away by 
 the bustling festivities of the Virgin, the gorgeous 
 processions, the whimsical sports of the dwarfs and 
 giants, and the manlier though bloody exhibitions of 
 the Amphitheatre. For my good-natured little host, 
 too, Don Casimiro and his humble household, I had 
 begun to feel a friendly regard, and was half loth to 
 leave the hospitable roof of the Sastre, the little 
 chamber whose quaint old furniture had grown fa- 
 miliar, and my acquaintance, Don Amadeo, to turn 
 myself out, as it were, on the highway, with no 
 friend or companion whatever, 
 
316 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 It was before dawn on the day of the good Saint 
 Teresa, that I took my departure for Barcelona. 
 The sereno, who kept watch in the street of the Pack- 
 saddle, came by previous appointment to wake me 
 about two o'clock, and I left my lodgings by a fine 
 starlight, to go to the office of the diligence. I had 
 previously despatched my baggage to be duly weighed 
 and registered, and now sought my way alone 
 through the silent and deserted streets. The traces 
 of the destroying siege in the neighbourhood of the 
 broad street of the Coso, which had filled me with a 
 certain melancholy interest when I first saw them 
 by the light of noon -day, did not fail to call up the 
 same chilling recollections as now seen, in their ru- 
 inous grandeur, by the doubtful starlight, and in the 
 dead silence of the night. How different this still- 
 ness and solitude from the tumultuous din of arms, 
 and the thousand horrors of that ever-memorable 
 siege, when even in the night the enemy plied the 
 work of destruction by the lurid light of the burn- 
 ing city, and the treacherous mine too often roused 
 the miserable townsman from his feverish repose 
 only to consign him to the sleep of death. 
 
 
 
DEPARTURE FROM ZARAGOZA. 317 
 
 Not a creature was now stirring save the sentinel 
 in steel helmet, and sabre dragging lazily over the 
 pavements, who paced slowly up and down before 
 the portal of the Audiencia ; or the watchful sereno, 
 who, with a short pike in one hand and a lantern in 
 the other, was walking his lonely rounds singing 
 now and then the hour of the night at the top of his 
 voice. 
 
 I had almost reason to regret having started alone, 
 not, however, on account of robbers or cut-throats ; 
 for the former commit their depredations in the 
 early part of the night, and that very rarely in Za- 
 ragoza ; and as for the latter, they would be hard to 
 find. Now and then the lower classes fight duels 
 with their knives, and on the high-road murders 
 for revenge are not unfrequent ; yet, as far as I 
 could learn the character of the Zaragozians, though 
 turbulent, riotous, and unconquerable, they are not 
 much given to treachery. But, as I was going to 
 say, for want of a guide I lost my way in the crooked 
 narrow streets, and came near losing my passage. 
 When, after much difficulty, I arrived at the office 
 of the diligence, the grumbling mayoral mounted 
 his seat forthwith, and the zagal, whip in hand, 
 
 27* 
 
318 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 soon set our mules in motion, whooping and halloo- 
 ing with the wonted vivacity of his class. 
 
 Taking one of the leading mules by the bridle,. 
 he conducted the rumbling diligence with great 
 dexterity through many narrow and crooked streets 
 towards the Gate of the Sun, thence across the 
 bridge of Saint Joseph, after passing which we were 
 fairly on the high-road to Barcelona. 
 
 When the morning dawned I found myself 
 some leagues from " the very noble, loyal, and he- 
 roic city of Zaragoza," and in a country so thinly 
 peopled and so miserably cultivated, that, with the 
 exception of a wo-begone village here and there, it 
 seemed a mere waste. 'Tis true, that in most parts 
 of Spain, in getting a mile or two from the security 
 of the town, you leave behind the marks of indus- 
 try and cultivation ; yet the province of Aragon 
 seemed to me even more desolate than any I had 
 traversed. I asked the mayoral why the people did 
 not plant vines and olives, and till this wilderness, 
 the soil being apparently well adapted for such pro- 
 ductions. " Because," said he, " the sheep would 
 eat them and the peasants rob one another." He 
 was an ignorant fellow, and too blind, like all of the 
 
INDICATIONS OP POVERTY. 319 
 
 lower classes in Spain, to know the true reason of 
 the national idleness and poverty so strongly dis- 
 played in the sad country we were traversing. A 
 number of these poor peasants of Aragon were col- 
 lected at a hovel where we stopped to change the 
 mules. Their athletic frames and manly bearing 
 seemed deserving of a better attire than the miser- 
 able blankets and rags in which they were wrapped. 
 It was a mute but bitter reproach to that despotism 
 which has made Spain a land of paupers. It is a 
 common topic with every civilized nation to up- 
 braid the laziness of the Spaniard ; let us rather de- 
 nounce the cruel cause than the unhappy effect. In 
 our prosperous country, where the subtle spirit of 
 enterprise seems infused into the very atmosphere 
 we breathe, so that all is bustle, and energy, and life, 
 one would awaken the incredulity of half his 
 hearers who should tell of a land blessed by nature 
 with a fertile soil and a kind climate, yet inhabited 
 by a nation of beggars. Let us pity but not re- 
 proach them. Take from us those moral causes, 
 whose beneficence is far above the choicest advan- 
 tages with which a kind nature has so bountifully 
 blessed us, take from us the laws that guard life and 
 
320 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 liberty, and property, the education that awakens 
 the energies of the mind to vigorous action, the spirit 
 of improvement that covers our country with roads, 
 canals, and railways ; I say take away all these, 
 and how soon would not an industrious, intelligent, 
 and thriving people relapse, like these poor peasants, 
 into indolence, ignorance, and want ; and our coun- 
 try, that now teems with fertility, into the wilder- 
 ness our fathers found it 7 
 
 The towns and villages through which we passed 
 from time to time showed the vestiges of the destroy- 
 ing march of the French in the war of Independence ; 
 houses blown up, and churches and convents torn 
 to pieces, the melancholy ruins still standing in the 
 very same state that the invaders left them. Irritated, 
 by the indomitable obstinacy of the Aragonese, the 
 invading armies often vented their spleen in acts of 
 wanton violence ; and thus one might trace their 
 course through the province, like that of a whirlwind 
 in our western forests, by the destruction they had 
 left behind them. Such was the case in the little 
 town of Bujaroz, where we stopped to get our din- 
 ner of stewed hare and olla podrida. The people 
 do not clear away nor rebuild these ruins ; for the 
 
ENTRANCE INTO CATALONIA. 321 
 
 spirit of improvement is dead among them, and a 
 declining population requires no increase of habita- 
 tions, being contented to live in miserable hovels 
 that are ready to tumble to the ground. 
 
 I remarked, just before we entered this pueblo, an 
 ill-clad custom-house officer sitting on a rock by the 
 way-side, smoking paper cigars and guarding the 
 revenue. A contrabandista would have had but 
 little trouble with this starveling functionary. A 
 few rials or a little tobacco would doubtless have 
 admitted an ass load of contraband to the freedom 
 of the pueblo. 
 
 There was a refreshing change in the appearance 
 of things as we passed into the province of Catalo- 
 nia, for we had not long crossed the frontier of Ara- 
 gon, when the symptoms of industry began to dis- 
 cover themselves. Bordering on the sea, and with 
 some chance of finding a market for the produce, 
 which is denied to the interior provinces by the cruel 
 neglect of the government, the Catalans have a 
 disposition to labour, even in spite of the misrule to 
 which, like the rest of Spain, they are subjected. 
 They have, like the other provinces, to pay heavy 
 contributions to the starving state and the rapacious 
 
322 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 church ; yet a little, after all, is left to themselves, and 
 this little rouses them to exertion. Every body 
 seemed on the alert. The men were either plough- 
 ing or bringing in the vintage in wooden tubs set on 
 the backs of mules or borricos, their garments stained, 
 and their naked legs and arms red with the juice of 
 the grape. The women were out before their huts 
 making ropes, and the children were scattered along 
 the highway gathering manure in wicker baskets. 
 
 The Catalans are noted in Spain for their stirring, 
 indefatigable disposition, a peculiarity well described 
 in the following lines. I know not who may be the 
 author of them, but I remember buying the ballad 
 that contained them from a poor blind man at the 
 Gate of the Sun in Madrid. 
 
 El Catalan bullicioso 
 Carrasqueno y rmvigante 
 Mercador y fabricante 
 Jamas vive con reposo : 
 En un pais escabroso 
 A costa de mil afanes 
 Marca tierras, hace planes, 
 Y aunque sea en un establo, 
 Al fin por parte del diablo 
 Hace de las piedras panes. 
 
 The dress of the Catalans, though in some respects 
 
CATALAN COSTUME. 323 
 
 picturesque, is on the whole not graceful. They 
 wear a long red woollen cap that fits tightly round the 
 head, and dangles half way down the back ; a little 
 short jacket that comes about half way to the waist, 
 and is studded with gilt buttons, or sometimes silk 
 loups ; breeches, a stocking without a foot, a hemp- 
 en sandal, and a blue or red sash round the loins. 
 
 A great many peasants and villagers in this cos- 
 tume were assembled to witness the arrival of the 
 diligence at the inn of Igualada. The horrid and to 
 me unintelligible jargon of these Catalans grated 
 unpleasantly on my ears after being used to the so- 
 norous Castilian, or the soft-lisping accent of Anda- 
 lusia. They speak a bastard language, which seems 
 to be a jumble of French, Italian, Spanish, and per- 
 haps other tongues ; but with a harshness of accent 
 more worthy of a northern latitude than of the soft 
 and sunny clime of the Mediterranean. 
 
 Here we sat down to a savoury supper, for which 
 a long day's journey had amply prepared us. But 
 though willing to make allowances for the calls of 
 hunger, I could not but observe the deficiency of the 
 Catalans in that courtesy so generally characteristic 
 of Spanish manners. Many of them, though very 
 
324 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 decent people, showed a boorishness and inattention 
 to the comfort of others which one would never see 
 even in the most miserable venta and among the 
 poorest muleteers of Castile or Andalusia. There, 
 even the poor reaper, when he sits down, weary with 
 the day's labour, to a starveling meal of gaspacho, 
 always invites the bystanders to share his repast, and 
 eats his pittance with a certain gentleman-like delibe- 
 rateness. 
 
 Among our passengers was a Catalan priest, who, 
 as usual, wore a cloak, cassock, and a huge hat, 
 which he had much ado to accommodate in the 
 crowded diligence. He was not a little conspicuous 
 for his attention to his bodily welfare whenever we 
 sat down to our puchero, nor at all averse to the 
 strong wine of Catalonia. Yet I must do him the 
 justice to say that he never drank too much of it, and 
 that he was not inattentive to his spiritual duties. 
 They put me to sleep in the same room with him at 
 the Fonda of Igualada, and he awoke me a good half 
 hour before the time appointed for our departure, 
 saying his prayers in Latin out of a black breviary 
 by the light of an old-fashioned iron lamp. 
 
 I arrived safely at Barcelona after a two days' 
 
ARRIVAL AT BARCELONA. 325 
 
 journey. We rattled over the heavy drawbridge 
 which spans the moat, and halted just without the 
 wall at the Gate of the Angel. Here our baggage 
 was rummaged by the inquisitive aduaneros, and our 
 passports delivered to an officer of the police. As 
 the mayoral was getting down our effects from the 
 top of the diligence, I had leisure to copy an inscrip- 
 tion beneath a picture over the gate, which borders 
 a little on the marvellous. Literally translated, it 
 runs thus, " Saint Vicente Ferrer, entering through 
 this gate in the year 1398, saw an angel upon it, to 
 whom he said, ' Angel of God, what are you doing 
 here ?' whereunto he replied, i I am guarding Bar- 
 celona by the order of the Most High.' " So much 
 for the veracity of the Saint and the credulity of 
 the faithful. 
 
 28 
 
326 
 
 CHAP. XIX. 
 
 BARCELONA. 
 
 BARCELONA is one of the fines towns in Spain, 
 and will well bear a comparison with Cadiz or Ma- 
 drid. The private dwellings in the modern part of 
 the city are very large and neat, and the public edi- 
 fices are erected on an imposing scale. It has, 
 among others, two or three noble Gothic churches ; 
 a style of building which always afforded me a de- 
 gree of gratification rarely inspired by a more clas- 
 sic architecture. It is with a certain chastened, so- 
 lemn enthusiasm that one wanders through those 
 vast temples so well suited to the worship of Omni- 
 potence : and, by the light which comes so mellowed 
 and softened through the stained windows, admires 
 those bold columns and gigantic arches, which seem 
 destined to endure till mankind shall no longer adore 
 Him in sanctuaries built by human art. 
 
 The most interesting of the churches of Barcelona 
 is the Cathedral, which is a very old and venerable edi- 
 fice. Here I noticed some superstitious caprices which 
 
CATHEDRAL OP BARCELONA. 327 
 
 were very odd. In the little chapel of our Lady of 
 Montserrat there is an image of the Virgin holding 
 the Child in her arms, both of whom are as black as 
 the veriest negro of Guinea. Why they chose to give 
 the wooden child and mother so unseemly a com- 
 plexion I do not know, but doubtless the matter 
 has its history and reason. Our Lady of Montser- 
 rat is a distinguished abogada, venerated in a rich 
 convent established for her worship and the comfort 
 of certain friars on the sterile summit of that wild 
 mountain. A board hung up near the shrine in- 
 formed the devotee that he might gain an indul- 
 gence of forty days by saying a Pater Noster before 
 this image, a privilege which the Pope has extended 
 to the shrines of all the other saints in the Cathedral. 
 Below the noble old organ was suspended a huge 
 and deformed head, with a great gaping mouth and 
 staring eyes. On certain festivals this head was 
 made, by some concealed machinery, to yawn with 
 its mouth and roll its eyes for the diversion of the 
 children and other simple people ; but, as my cice- 
 rone, the monje custos, informed me, this strange 
 practice has been discontinued for a few years past 
 on account of the indecent merriment it occasioned. 
 
328 
 
 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 The hideous head still, however, retains its conspi- 
 cuous station, and looks down with vacant stare 
 upon the worshippers assembled beneath. 
 
 Among the other wonders of the Cathedral my 
 conductor called my attention with much gravity to 
 a wooden image of the Saviour on the cross, which 
 is famed for a miraculous incident in the battle of 
 Lepanto. It had been placed on the poop of the 
 Christian commander's galley, and from its con- 
 spicuous station presently became the mark of the 
 infidel Turks. One ball having been too truly aim- 
 ed, the image, by bending its body, dodged the 
 shot ; and the attitude which it then assumed it still 
 retains, to the wonder of the numerous devotees who 
 gather round the little chapel to say the Pater 
 Noster, rosary in hand. In the cloisters is a small 
 chapel dedicated to the service of various saints, 
 among whom was Santa Lucia, the advocate of 
 those afflicted with sore eyes, as was shown by 
 numerous votive eyes of wax hung up there. It 
 happened to be the day of the Eleven Thousand 
 Virgins, as the almanac arid the diario of Barcelona 
 duly set forth. Santa Lucia being one of these Ele- 
 ven Thousand Virgins, a number of old women, 
 
DEPARTURE FOR FRANCE. 329 
 
 who had, perhaps, found relief from affliction 
 through her intercession, were gathered round the 
 steps of the shrine engaged in serious prayer. 
 
 After spending a week very agreeably in Barce- 
 lona, I started one morning before the peep of day in. 
 the diligence for the French frontier. The country, 
 like the other parts of Catalonia, was industriously 
 cultivated, and decent villages were scattered here 
 and there at little intervals. Over the doors of the 
 houses might be seen little woodcuts of the Virgin 
 or the Saviour, and occasionally inscriptions in 
 large characters of " Ave Maria purisima ! sin pe- 
 cado concebida ;" '< Hail Mary most pure ! conceived 
 without sin." The road ran for a long distance 
 along the shore of the Mediterranean, and we saw a 
 great many hardy fishermen, a class whose labours 
 are of great value to the province of Catalonia, dry- 
 ing their nets upon the beach, or drawing the reluc- 
 tant seine with its unlucky prisoners from the wa- 
 ter. In the interior of the diligence were three friars, 
 whom, by the muddy, brown colour of their garments, 
 I judged to be of the order of the Carmelites. They 
 were dressed in a sort of gown or sack, of coarse brown 
 serge, having a large hood hanging down behind, 
 28* 
 
330 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 and confined round the waist by a leathern girdle, 
 the ends of which reached to their feet. They had 
 also hempen sandals and naked feet, which beto- 
 kened that they were of the order of the Carmelitas 
 descalzos. For of these Carmelites there are two 
 sorts ; those who wear shoes, and those who ought, 
 by- the strict rules of their order, to go unshod, but 
 who make a compromise with their consciences by 
 covering the sole of the foot and toes with a hempen 
 sandal. 
 
 My companion in the coupe of the diligence was 
 quite a different looking personage. His black 
 stock that kept his chin high in the air, his cloth 
 cap with silver embroidery on the front, his close- 
 buttoned surtout with an epaulette strap on either 
 shoulder, his mustaches two inches long, and, inde- 
 pendent of all this, his martial air, bespoke the sol- 
 dier. Though a very manly looking fellow, he was 
 very sad and out of sorts ; a tertian had taken hold of 
 him some weeks before at the fortress where he was 
 stationed, and he was now going to Gerona for the 
 sake of change of air, leaving a third of the garri- 
 son in the same predicament. 
 
 Towards sunset we descended into a fertile valley, 
 
FORTRESS OP GERONA. 331 
 
 and saw at a distance a hill crowned by an exten- 
 sive fortress, which looked down protectingly upon 
 the little town of Gerona. It was the hour of the 
 paseo or evening promenade ; and as we drew near we 
 found the inhabitants taking the air without the city 
 gate. Among the group figured the universal curate ; 
 the student, too, hid to the eye-brows in his slovenly 
 capeless cloak, friars of all sorts and colours, black, 
 white, blue and gray, like the spirits invoked by 
 Macbeth's witches, children guarded by their nurses, 
 and young mischievous-looking damsels, followed 
 by their Argus-eyed duennas ; while lounging officers 
 were scattered in groups under the trees, and busy 
 washerwomen, squatting beside the stream which 
 skirted the walk, were beating dirty clothes clean with 
 flat sticks. Into this stream we presently drove ; the 
 mules splashed through at a gallop, and we entered 
 the town by a heavy stone portal decorated with an 
 ancient coat of arms, the bearings of the king, or 
 perhaps of some long-forgotten lord of the soil and 
 the city. This was that Gerona which in the 
 war of independence made so desperate a resistance 
 to the French, and only capitulated when starva- 
 tion stared the garrison in the face. It was a dear- 
 
332 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 bought bargain ; for the French lost many thousand 
 men under the walls. 
 
 Here we passed the night, and the next morning 
 found us in Junquera, where the diligence halted to 
 have the baggage and passports of the passengers 
 examined. In a fit of perverseness I determined 
 to give no bribe to the hirelings of the custom-house, 
 and consequently had my trunk well rummaged . The 
 principal aduanero was impertinent enough to look 
 at my papers, and put on a very grave face as he 
 opened a sort of log book of my travels. It was 
 filled from one end to the other with blasphemies 
 against his political faith, but written in so blind a 
 fashion that I could hardly read it myself, much less 
 this worthy emissary of the police ; so he returned 
 it with a shrug of his shoulders, and turned on his 
 heel, leaving me to push down my trunk and fill my 
 night bag again at my leisure. 
 
 As we drew nigh the frontier, we came in sight 
 of the frowning fortress of Belgrade. I asked the 
 zagal to let me know when we were crossing the 
 line. This, by the way, was one of the most rascal- 
 like fellows I ever saw. His face was literally hack- 
 ed to pieces j for he had got a sabre cut in the war 
 
DEPARTURE FROM SPAIN. 333 
 
 of Independence which had seamed his forehead 
 and cut his nose in twain, so that the lower part 
 looked like an appendix or codicil of the upper ; he 
 had lost his right eye in some other adventure, and 
 had received a bullet wound in his cheek in fighting 
 against the Constitutionalists. This treacherous-look- 
 ing fellow, in addition to his functions as a zagal, was 
 said to be employed as a spy. The conductor was 
 a sharp-featured, snuff-taking little Frenchman, with 
 a skin the colour of parchment. He soon manifested 
 the social temperament of his countrymen ; for, put- 
 ting himself in the coupe beside me with a parrot 
 cage in his hand, he made as many bows as a diplo- 
 matist, and said, that as Monsieur appeared quite 
 solitary, he would fain entertain him with his hum- 
 ble society. This led, like Gratiano's conversation, 
 to an infinite deal of nothing, in which his wife in 
 Perpignan, and his sweetheart in Junquera, came in 
 for a tolerable share. 
 
 By and by we passed two stone pillars standing 
 on opposite sides of the road. That on the right 
 hand bore the well-carved arms of Spain, the ram- 
 pant lion and the castle. The other had once shown 
 the badge of the Bourbons, the ill-fated fleur-de-lis, 
 
334 SCENES IN SPAIN. 
 
 now so utterly defaced that I could only surmise 
 what had been there before the days of July. "So," 
 said I to the one-eyed zagal, "we are now in France." 
 " Si, Senor," he replied. Well, then, farewell to 
 Spain, and God send her better fortune viva la 
 libertad y mueran los despotas." The conductor 
 tipped me a monitory wink, and the zagal scowled 
 and glanced fiercely at me with his one eye, as much 
 as to say, " Dog of a Liberal, had you made that 
 exclamation on Spanish ground, how nicely the 
 hangman would have taken a ride on your shoul- 
 ders." 
 
 THE END* 
 
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