A Tour with Cook through Spain; being a series of descriptive letters of ancient cities and scenery of Spain. ... Illustrated by photographs, etc

Preface

. t^-lj-i. |r;| TOUR with Cook through Spain cannot by any "TA'li means be considered an easy ramble or a quiet holiday excursion. It is a journey affording in finite pleasure; but during a short tour to visit cities lying great distances apart, entails, for the time, hard work and restless activity. It is not to the purpose arguing how long a time is required to see a country ; some people will discover and enjoy a world of wonders in weeks, whilst others may spend a lifetime without finding them. There are travellers and travellers. Some are patient students, who seek in far off and unknown lands physical geographical knowledge ; others seek in travel, health, pleasure, or amusement. The ordinary tourist may have any of these objects in view, and will seek and find in the cities and places he visits, matters agreeing with his particular inclinations; thus, tourists with varying* tastes see a country and its people with different eyes and from different points of view.

In Spain, the active traveller — if a student of history, an artist, or an antiquarian — will see much ; the idler will see little. Spain abounds in monuments associated with its

PREFACE.

. past history, which require seeking out and investigating. To the enterprising explorer there is a mine of wealth in these national antiquities — to the heedless mind they are but so many unromantic ruins. I should not expect every one to see Spain from my point of view, nor do I imagine that all who may read my letters will accept my judgment or expressed opinions upon the different matters of which they treat. It has been my pleasure to take a passing glance at the present, and to read many a delightful story of the past, in the attractive scenes of nature, and monuments of art, in which Spain abounds. I do not pretend that the letters embrace a comprehensive description of the country or the people. They are gossiping letters sent home to immediate friends ; subsequently they appeared in the columns of the Birmingham Daily Gazette.

Consulting the expressed wishes of many personal friends, they are now re-issued in their present form. In the letters no reference is made to Mr. Cook, or to his well-organized system of holiday travelling ; therefore, a few passing remarks relative to the many comforts and advantages arising from his admirable tourist system will be appropriately introduced here. I am not personally acquainted with Mr. Cook, but, like many other travellers, I have frequently been indebted to him, and I have no hesitation in offering to him my tribute of thanks for the many facilities and conveniences his enterprise has provided for tourists abroad. Experienced travellers may possibly have a contempt for such pre arranged conveniences ; but there are thousands of tourists yearly who spend a few weeks' holiday on the Continent, who, having but a slight knowledge of Continental travelling

PREFACE.

. V arrangements and of foreign hotel life, are not indifferent to the conveniences arising out of an organized contract system, which at once relieves them from endless petty annoyances and from the dread of prospective troubles. To purchase a ticket which will frank one for thousands of miles through various nationalities, by railway, steamboat, or diligence, is no trifling advantage. And to feel that all difficulties of hotel life are dealt with at the moment of purchasing the ticket is a matter of congratulation. In addition to such comfortable arrangements, Mr. Cook's organization embraces admirable schemes for con ducting tourist parties himself or by able and responsible agents. Out party in Spain travelled under the charge of Mr. Cook's representative, Mr. Oswald, whose indefatigable zeal removed many difficulties, and provided for us many com forts and conveniences.

All our party were strangers to the country, its currency, and its language; yet, under the guidance of Mr. Oswald, we travelled through and enjoyed this sunny and attractive land without meeting any serious inconvenience. The letters refer in detail to the events of our journey, and as they have particular reference to the country and the people, no special introduction is needed to them. To intending travellers, I would suggest that they should take as little luggage as possible. "Murray" and "O'Shea" are capital guide-books. Ford, and many other writers on Spain, will be referred to and read with intense relish after returning home. Making such a tour, short though it may be, will enable the traveller afterwards to understand much about Spain VI

PREFACE.

. and Spaniards that has hitherto been imperfectly under stood, and an increased interest will be created in all things Spanish. Should these pages be read by my travelling companions, I greet them heartily, assuring them that many agreeable recollections are treasured in my mind of the pleasant hours spent in their company. If it would be correct to dedicate this volume to any one, considering the letters were originally addressed to different individuals, I could desire to do it to my friend Mr. Frederick Knight, whose companionship over many thousands of miles of travel has been to me a source of unmea sured pleasure. J. B. STONE. Lothersdale, Aston Village, Birmingham CONTENTS. ♦ Pago Letter No. 1. Burgos 1 „ „ 2. The Palace of the Escoiual ... 13 „ 3. A Bull-Fight 22 „ „ 4. " Hallelujahs " 33 „ 5.

Foundlings 39 „ „ 6. The Fine Arts in Madrid ... 43 ., „ 7. Life in Madrid 54 ., ,, 8. Cordova 64 „ „ 9. "The Sierra Morena" . . . 75 „ „ 10. The Palace of the Alhambra . 82 „ ,, 11. The Gipsies of Granada .... 99 „ ,, 12. Spanish Funerals 113 „ 13. Granada 118 „ „ 14. The Giralda 135 ,, „ 15. The Palace of the Alcazar . . . 142 „ 16. Seville 148 „ „ 17. Religion in Spain 161 „ „ 18. Life in Andalusia 175 „ „ 19. The Garden Provinces of Valencia . 185 „ „ 20. Spanish Ballad Romances . . . 197 „ „ 21. Valencia — Indulgences .... 206 ,, „ 22. The Carlist Insurrection. Barcelona. Brigands. Adieu. .... LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. The Spikes of Burgos Cathedral . . opposite title page The Palace of the Escorial .... opposite page 13 View of the Interior of Cordova Cathedral „ „ 71 The Court of Lions, Palace of the Alhambra „ „

Letter I

§urgos st^v 0 W much it is to be regretted that the picturesque t-^tP' s**1011*'*-**- be so often allied to dirt, poverty, and misery ! l****^-*1****-3! We enter the Basque Provinces with eager expectation of gaining our first experiences of Spanish life and manners, and as we traverse the valleys of the spur of the Pyrenean chain of mountains through which the railway threads its circuitous way, we get glimpses of the peasantry, dressed in bright and quaint costumes, which could not fail to be highly attractive to an artist, but upon examination betray the coarse and scanty material that denotes a needy condition. The scenery has not been grand so far, not in any way to be compared with the passes of the Alps or Apennines : but the undulating country finds a home for a hardy, if uncultivated, race of people.

It is in this district that sedition and revolt are most troublesome to deal with. The country favours a guerilla warfare, and the people, from their earliest experiences, are fully accustomed to the many hard ships of a mountaineering life ; hence we find Carlist bands and brigands a continual trouble to the Government, and there is perpetually an unsettled state of society which must be very unfavourable to progress. We watch with interest the peasantry toiling in the fields as we travel along; women, bare-legged, taking their share of the laborious work. The heavy soil is turned up in large clods, but the land is stated to be of a fertile character. One B can hardly say that the cottages of the peasantry are picturesque ; they are low and heavy, with the smallest windows, without glass, and have no surroundings of trees, or even herbage to tone the staring whitewash with which they are all covered.

As to the people, every man, woman, and child would be material for an artist — not that any are beautiful ; on the contrary, though fine in figure and feature, there is a strange lack of that refinement which gives beauty to the countenance. Rude in character, they toil with the rudest of implements. Their carts, for instance, are of the most antiquated and unwieldy description. It seems in credible that any country through which railways — those true modern civilizers — have penetrated, could cling to such miserable aids of locomotion. To these wretched con veyances, which can only be described as vehicles on wheels, oxen are yoked, which drag by main force the cumbrous load over the very worst of country roads. The laborious task of these clumsy beasts of burden might be somewhat mitigated if a few rays of modern science could aid in the construction of these primitive vehicles ; perhaps, putting on one side the considerations of elegance and beauty, one might be persuaded into the belief that these sub stantial timber boxes, with solid discs of wood for wheels, accord better with the rural highways of Spain than would the trim and comparatively slenderly-fashioned market gardener's cart to be seen in the English lanes.

Some of these carts have wheels with more pretensions, possessing a more advanced construction of spokes and tires. To protect these more delicate organizations, blocks of wood of irregular size and shape are nailed around them, the addition of which produces, to unaccustomed eyes, an effect of intense absurdity. The whole country of the Basque Provinces is full of historical associations of the greatest interest; every town and village has been a place of mark in history. Memorable scenes crowd upon the mind as we pass places, the very BURGOS. 3 names of which fill the imagination with pictures of the past. San Sebastian, Vittoria, and the Bidassoa, seem almost British, so much are they associated with the history of our own countrymen. We, however, only get glimpses of such places as we are pushing on for Burgos, the ancient capital of Old Castile, once, also, the home of the Cid, and the scene of a thousand memorable events.

Here the old Kings of Castile resided; here the renowned Saint Ferdinand held his Court; once the notorious Rodrigo Borgia (afterwards Pope Alexander VI) shared in the councils of the Cathedral Chapter; and many are the names in history of those whose home was at one time or another in this ancient city. We arrive late at night, full of desire to see so notable a place, but the ill-con ditioned state of things at the present day somewhat damps our enthusiasm, and forcibly reminds us that we are travelling in a country which is behind all other countries of Europe in point of progress. Burgos is our first Spanish resting-place, and we are there fore more than ordinarily curious in noticing trifling arrangements. The railway station is away from the city, and we are transported to the Fonda (Hotel) de Rafaela in an omnibus drawn by Spanish mules over paved roads that certainly could not have been repaired since the good old times of Ferdinand and Isabella.

However, we arrive in safety at the quaint but comfortable old hostelry. We find no lack of courtesy and attention, and considerable merriment is created in the household in consequence of our party knowing so little of the Spanish language. However, the excellent entertainment provided for us, and the general cheerfulness of the whole establishment, enable us eventually to retire to bed with the most favourable impressions of Spanish hospitality. Early in the morning an excellent meal is provided, consist ing of chocolate (a national beverage, and especially noted for its excellence in this district), or coffee and omelettes. This it may be noted is not breakfast, to which we return at eleven o'clock, and which forms a substantial mid-day meal of meats, &c. We dine at six, and spend the evening indoors, with the family of our host, who are musical, and have the luxury of a piano.

Having thus given you an idea of our domestic arrangements, I will try to sketch you roughly this most interesting city. It still has the ancient walls surrounding it, and the hand of time has spared many an old monument of the Middle Ages ; indeed, the whole city appears to be a huge relic of old times; narrow streets, of heavy-looking mansions, which have once been the strongholds of great families, looking dreary and woe-begone in their aged and dilapidated condition; and streets of equally aged and dilapidated houses, where the poorer classes have probably resided for ages, and which now swarm with a wretched population, huddled together in want and misery. Beggars are pests in Italy, but no beggars can equal in numbers, in misery, and in importunity those of Burgos. They are filthy in their condition, but Murillo may have found studies enough in Burgos to have filled the Vatican with pictures of gipsies and beggar-boys.

Wrapped, or partially so, in bright, parti-coloured rugs or blankets — which, for cos tume, serve in good stead the Spanish manta or cloak — their nakedness and dirt are readily hidden from the observation of passers-by. Their pestering importunity can only be got rid of by closing the chamber door against them ; for neither the sanctity of the Cathedral, nor the privacy of the staircases and passages of the fonda, are a protection from them. Our first visit, of course, is paid to the Cathedral, still the glory of Burgos, and the chief object of interest to travellers. It is, indeed, a grand work of true Gothic art. The softening decay which time has effected has darkened the materials and mellowed the sharpness of the original decorations. To the true artist and studious antiquary, the perforated tracery of the spires recalls to mind that they are gazing upon the handiwork of a departed race of giants in intellect and skill.

The interior is not less beautiful. There are glorious old cloisters, BURGOS. 5 chapels full of delicate ornament, and monuments, where many a truthful artist has left large contributions of his craft. Side by side with these fine old monuments are to be seen the paltry draperies and tinsel ornaments contributed by the modern members of the Roman Catholic Church. At the moment we enter, a kneeling congregation acquaints us with the fact that mass is being performed. Desirous not to disturb the assembly, we silently pause before one of the many altars, and contemplate with curiosity the strange collection of ornaments and offerings adorning it. To any one seeking art monuments, or venerable records of past ages, the heterogeneous collection appears strangely incongruous and misplaced. Our Protestant notions, too, prevent our appreciating the motives which prompted such gifts; consequently we look upon them simply with the inquisitive eyes of sightseers, and estimate their worth by their use and intrinsic value.

In the centre of the altar is a figure of the dead Christ, carved in wood, and painted in colours. It has upon it a muslin skirt, and around it, conspicuously displayed, are large clusters of bright artificial flowers. The whole is illuminated by a number of burning wax candles. The thankofferings of devotional communicants are indiscriminately arranged in places on, over, and around the altar. Some of these are coarsely-manufactured trinkets in silver; others are figures in wax, which at once attract our curiosity, being miniature models of arms, legs, breasts, and babies. Doubtless these latter articles are symbolical offerings, their particular form being significant of recoveries from special ailments. As usual in lofty Gothic cathedrals, a sombre and mysterious light pervades the whole interior.

Numbers of priests are gliding about, and their pompous deportment, aided by magnificence of dress, exacts profound reverence from the people assembled. The impression conveyed to our minds in witnessing the absorbing ceremonious service, is that the church and clergy have a powerful influence over the people. No where in Italy — not even in Rome — is spiritual control so apparent. The worshippers appear sincere and most reverential in their devotions, and there is an obvious air of superstitious awe about them, which seems to extend itself even to the venerable sanctuary itself, enriched as it is by many strange relics, which are mysteriously regarded and jealously preserved. Upon the high altar is a full-sized figure of Christ, carved in wood, which is, with curious fancy, ingeniously enveloped in a human skin, long tresses of hair hanging loosely over the face and shoulders.

To our ideas, biased by Protestant principles and proclivities, the figure is strangely repulsive, and we gaze with astonishment upon the kneeling worshippers bowed before it. In and about the aisles and chapels are a number of grand old monuments, upon which are inscribed names of many noble men, their decaying grandeur yet testifying to the vast wealth expended in raising monuments to earthly glory. Among those preserved within the ancient Cathedral, are some strikingly-beautiful ones, erected in the fourteenth century, decorated with rare Renaissance ornament. These glorious monuments are most interesting as works of art, apart from the histories recorded upon them. There are many chapels in different portions of the Cathedral, some constructed within the aisles or transepts, others subsequent appendages to the earlier building.

Some are large, and would hold a good congregation, and all are gorgeous. The chapel of Constable Don Pedro Fernandez de Velasco, in which are preserved the magnificent tombs with recumbent effigies of the noble knight and his wife, is rich in architectural ornament, gorgeous in coloured decorations, and brilliant with the interspersed gilding. Of the other chapels much might be said, for they contain rare treasures of ecclesiastical and historical art. In one room or chapel, hanging against the bare walls, is an old and decayed wooden chest, much valued by the good people of Castile, as being the identical Coffer of the Cid, with which the far-famed knight is said to have outwitted certain money- BURGOS. 7 lending Jews of his day, by representations to the effect that it contained valuable treasure in silver, whereas the contents were in reality nothing but stones and sand.

The legends of Castile acquaint us with the fact, that later in life the valiant Cid fully compensated the Jews for the trick he played upon them in his needy days. A short sketch would do but scant justice to the extensive Coro or Choir, which is elaborately carved in Renaissance ornament. Equally will the remark apply to some fine pieces of sculpture in high relief, encompassing the high altar. Such fine works as these, embracing so much beautiful detailed ornament, cannot be described; they must be seen to be appreciated. Our inspection of the glorious old Cathedral concluded, we ascend the fortified hill which overlooks and commands the city. The view from here is most extensive, and to us particularly interesting, as it is the first comprehensive view we have had of a Spanish town. The chief characteristics seem to be age, dirt, and whitewash.

The magnificent Cathedral, crumbling in hoary age, with its fretwork towers still retaining their marvellous elegance and beauty, is encompassed by wretched houses inhabited by the poorest of people. The clusters of old and dilapidated buildings, which crowd upon the Cathedral, envelope it so completely that all the beauteous decorations of the basement are hidden from view. From no position can we get a view of the whole structure ; the beautiful towers alone arise clear from all surroundings. As to the houses which line the narrow streets, all centuries younger in age than the noble pile in their midst, they betray in their tottering condition an already prolonged existence. One can hardly imagine, while surveying these dreary habitations, that this small city has been the scene of so many brilliant events in history.

Dotted about here and there, still stand a few landmarks of its former great ness. The quaint grandeur of the old Market-place, the mediæval Town Hall, and the carved facades of a few aged palaces, assist the imagination to re-people these romantic walls. Notable amongst the ancient relics are those inter woven with the history of the renowned Cid, the hero of Burgos and Castile. Upon the hill side where we stand are erected some obelisks of cumbrous make, marking the spot where the famous knight was born (1026). It was within the walls of the ruined castle above that the romantic bridal of the Cid with the loving Ximena was celebrated. In an ancient church, standing near to the Cathedral, the stern warrior compelled his King (Alonzo VI) to swear (tradition says with repeated oaths) that he was guiltless of the foul murder of the late king, his brother.

Tho effigy of the Cid may be seen, in company with those of other famous Burgos citizens, forming portions of the ornament in one of the old city gateways. The celebrated Convent of San Pedro de Cardena, where the Cid was buried, lies a few miles away from Burgos. It is an ancient foundation (537), and if history lacks sufficient evidence to preserve, legendary lore is not likely soon to forget, the marvellous story of the dead knight being brought hither clad in armour, borne upright upon the back of his well-tried horse Babieca, nor the subsequent history of the watchings of the faithful Ximena over the unburied body of her dead lord. When certain alterations were needed to this ancient establishment, some years ago, the bones of the Cid, with those of the noble Ximena, were removed to the city, and at the present time are carefully preserved in glass cases, within the Council Chamber of the Ayuntamiento, or Town Hall.

Descending the Castle hill, we return to the narrow streets, and again encounter the hosts of troublesome and dirty beggars who lazily hang about the highways and bye ways of the city. The market does not reach our ideas of commercial greatness, or astonish us by its prodigious activity. Everything is antiquated in appearance, and every one has a dreamy look of apathy at what is passing around them. The BURGOS. 9 merchandise displayed is not greatly varied, nor does it possess any remarkable local peculiarity. A collection of bright tin pots and kettles is the chief attraction to idlers, whilst small heaps of grain, and collections of hard-baked bread — generally in the shape of batch cakes, with deep incised crosses on them — are the staple articles of commerce. The square in which the market is held is surrounded by remarkable and interesting buildings many centuries old, chief amongst them being the Town Hall.

Having already obtained an order of admission to the latter, we are allowed to enter, inspect its historical chambers, and examine its treasured mementos of by-gone times. Any one having a taste for antiquities, can not fail to be deeply interested in visiting this relic of feudal ages. Its iron grilles, its thick walls, its prison-like windows looking like eagles' eyes upon the life of the citizens, its narrow galleries and old-fashioned appointments, all assist in conjuring up scenes of many romances connected with past ages of chivalry, oppression, and misery. Of course we look with interest upon the bones of the Knight of Bivar, though the only remarkable thing about them is their bearing evidence of the small stature of the valiant knight. In the same chamber is also preserved a primitive oak chair, once belonging to the Cid, which is regarded with peculiar veneration by the people of Burgos, and still used as the state seat in the municipal councils.

Continuing our ramble through the city, we pause at several places having more than ordinary interest through associations connected with them, one is the house where once dwelt the great Constable Velasco, another is the famous prison house of Alvaro de Luna, whose brilliant career and tragic end belong truly to the series of historical romances of Spain. A few wretched statues on the public promenade are the only signs of modern progress ; indeed, apart from the fine old Cathedral, and the undying historical associations of the city, there is in Burgos little that would tempt a traveller to make a sojourn there, whilst its dirt, and tribes of indolent poor, give to the passing tourist a ready impression of its unhealthy and unprogressive condition, both intellectual and physical. The people of the province in which Burgos is situated possess an unenviable notoriety for the eagerness with which they engage in conspiracies and rebellion, ard their continued state of disaffection is a perpetual source of anxiety to the Government.

We feel, in passing, some of the inconveniences arising from this state of society. Upon the supposition that Carlist bands are preparing for a rising, the Government have sent to Burgos a strong military force, well knowing that this is a very hotbed of sedition. The General in charge of the force is staying at the Fonda, which is made, for the time, the military head-quarters of the province. I cannot add that his presence restores to us that confidence which the rumoured cause of his visit has somewhat destroyed. In 'the evening we discover that Burgos is literally a city of darkness. The inhabitants have not yet had sufficient enterprise to light the streets with gas : this, in itself, is sufficient to create in our minds a feeling of distrust. With English notions, we look with suspicion too upon the muffled figures of ordinary pedestrians, who, with customary habit, fling their cloaks over their shoulders, enveloping their arms and partly burying their faces in the folds, whilst a slouching hat hides their features from the passer-by.

Under such circumstances, prudence dictates that we should retire to the Fonda, where we find agreeable company, and spend a pleasant evening. The following morning we make up a pleasant party to visit two old convents situated a little distance away from the city. The omnibus is prepared, and two ancient and angular-looking mules are harnessed to it. Hitherto we have had no practical experience in travelling over the country roads of Spain. From the partial glimpse we have obtained from the railway, we have already distrusted them, but our apprehensions are eclipsed by the reality. Experience is a BURGOS. 11 hard teacher, but practical lessons often give much sound information. Our ride teaches us more about the subject of road-making than many learned treatises would. Our first visit is to the Carthusian.

Convent of Miraflores. Although the revenues of this once rich and important institution have been sequestered by the Government, and it is now no longer the home of a religious community, it still offers to visitors objects of unbounded interest, in its ecclesiastical buildings, its gorgeous decorations, and its magnificent monuments. There are three tombs here of superb beauty. Those of Don Juan II, and of Isabel his wife, with the kneeling effigy of their son, the Infante Alonzo (1470). The ornament upon them is of an exquisite character, being executed in the most perfect and refined style of Renaissance art. These tombs are but single attractions of the Cartuja. The whole place abounds in antiquarian interest. Monuments, marble walls, stained glass, eccentric pavements, decaying fountains in pretty enclosed gardens, which are now all over-run with weeds, make the place peculiarly attractive, and create an interest in its history — a history which the desolate and deserted halls betoken is fast closing.

From the Cartuja de Miraflores we are conveyed to another convent of still greater interest and importance, that of Las Huelgas. We retrace our steps for a considerable distance, and, when nearing the city again, leave the Cartuja highway, making a circuit round the outskirts or suburbs of Burgos. Beggars and poverty characterize every road, and each block of buildings, in these wretched hamlets. Picturesque groups of country people saunter along, or lie stretched at ease in shady spots about the dusty roads. Their bright coloured dresses, and their accompanying mules, donkeys, and oxen, giving to the changeful scenes the charm of a panorama. Though poverty reigns around, Las Huelgas is reputed to be immensely wealthy. Within its walls is a nunnery, the inmates of which are all members of noble families.

The election to this convent is considered to be a most honourable appointment, and large dowries which are brought with the noble ladies, are deemed an equivalent for the honour of association. In former days a princess presided over, indeed ruled with absolute sway, this little community. The extent of her authority may be estimated by the fact that she had power of decreeing death. The convent chronicles set forth a brilliant array of names of kings, princes, and nobles who have received at Las Huelgas the honour of knighthood, a ceremony which was performed here with most imposing ceremonies. Among others thus dignified was our King Edward I. The entrance into the church is through a beautifully carved but decaying doorway. Within all is beautiful. There are fine marbles, paintings, and rich decorations.

On one side we peer through an iron gate, which opens to our view the private chapel of the nuns. Of course, no communication is allowed, therefore a distant view only of the sanctum is permitted under the restriction mentioned. So strict is the rule for bidding any intercourse of the nuns with the world, that parcels of linen, &c, are conveyed by means of a circular revolving box built into the wall. The nuns are at their devotions, and we stay during the time they sing a sweet hymn. We notice that nearly the whole of them are aged ladies, and the subdued, almost melancholy scene within serves as material for reflection for the next few hours. The tombs are not so great or so imposing as might be supposed from the many illustrious men who have found here their last resting-place. Numbers of kings, queens, and royal personages lie buried here ; but the shadow of the past lingers here, as it does elsewhere in Burgos, rather in the treasured memories of history than in existing monumental records. |lalac£ of tbe (Bscorial