Out of a gracefully arched window, with stucco work framing it about like curtains of crystallized lace, from whence the beauties of the harem must have often gazed upon the court below, we looked upon a setting of leafy verdure in white marble, surrounded by fountains, like an emerald set in diamonds upon a lady's hand. We looked from the boudoir of the Sultana, the Chosen of the Harem. Here were thriving orange and fig-trees mingled with glistening, dark-leaved myrtles, which were bordered by an edging of box so high and stout of limb that the main stems were more like trees than shrubs. The guide told us they were centuries old. Here were also cl.u.s.ters of hawthorn in blossom, and little patches of blue star-like flowers looking up from the ground like human eyes, as though having hardly the courage to a.s.sert themselves amid the more pretentious bloom. The sun lay warm and lovingly in this fragrant area of the grand old palace, and the air was very soft and sweet. It was the same scene which had gladdened witching eyes centuries ago, when the notes of the lute mingled with the careless, happy voices of the beauties of the harem.

The guide had twice to summon us before we left the spot. Then we climbed up the winding, marble steps, lighted here and there by little loop-hole windows, to a balcony that commanded a view far and near over the village-dotted plain of Granada, backed by the snowy summits of the Sierra Nevada. The city, in all its brown, turreted, and tiled confusion of buildings, lay in the foreground. The Darro and the Xenil, joined together, were seen winding their silvery way through the verdant fields, where broad patches of yellow grain added a thrifty aspect to the view. Quaint little hamlets cl.u.s.tered together; mulberry and olive groves, a tall hay-stack here and there, and groups of domestic cattle, enlivened the whole. It was an exceptional picture for Spain, and would convey the idea of a well-cultivated and thriving agricultural country; but it was natural irrigation, not the hand of industrious labor, which was here so agreeably represented.

One never wearied in wandering about the courts and luxurious apartments; luxurious, not because of their furniture, for there was none; but because of what they suggested, for the possibilities they presented, and the exquisite architectural workmanship displayed in each detail, and everywhere. It was like enchantment verified. Nothing seemed too extravagant to the imagination thus stimulated. If we had suddenly come upon a throng of the dark-eyed favorites of the harem diaphanously clad, on their way to the marble baths, with Nubian slaves perfuming their way by burning incense, it would not have seemed to us at all strange.

Alhambra signifies "Red Castle," and the vermilion-tinted structure, with its outlying towers, was thus appropriately named. In the days of its glory it was half palace, half fortress; indeed, a city within itself, capable of accommodating quite an army, and containing within its walls an immense cistern as a water supply, armories, store-houses, foundries, and every appliance of a large military cantonment. A considerable portion of the far-reaching walls are still extant, as well as the outlying towers; and all are remarkable for the excellent engineering skill displayed in their construction. Under good generalship, and properly manned, the place must have been impregnable to attack with such arms as were in use at the period of its completion.

For a long time after the expulsion of the Moors, the Castilian monarchs made it their royal residence, and held high and regal court within its splendid walls; but they finally deserted it, and left desolate those unequaled halls and courts. The place was next infested by a lawless community of contrabandists and banditti, who made it, for a long period, their headquarters, whence to sally forth and lay the neighboring plains under contribution, on the principle that might makes right. Then came the French as conquerors, who expelled the lawless intruders, perhaps themselves quite as deserving of the t.i.tle; but they did a good work by clearing what had become an Augean stable of its worst filth, and partially restoring the choicest work of the Moorish builders. To-day the Spanish government guards with jealous care a monumental treasure which cannot be equaled in historic interest elsewhere in the kingdom.

Visiting the Court of the Lions on the last day of our stay at Granada, watching its beautiful shadows, columns, and fret-work, with its mammoth vase of Oriental alabaster fed by water brought from the mountains through the old Moorish aqueduct, it seemed as if so much of tangible poetry could nowhere else be found. Over a hundred light and graceful columns of marble surround this one court, supporting arches of perfect loveliness, and a Moorish arcade of aerial lightness and beauty. The rich stucco and the arabesque decorations of the inner walls and ceilings, finished in gold and blue, the original colors still there after centuries of exposure, together form perhaps the gem of the Alhambra. Yet one hesitates to p.r.o.nounce any one hall, chamber, or court as excelling another where all are so transcendently beautiful. The characteristic embodiment of the architecture seemed to be its perfect harmony throughout. There are no jarring elements, no false notes, in the marvelous anthem which it articulates. It does not impress one as representing power or grandeur, but rather sensuousness and human love.

The inspiration it imparts to the thoughtful beholder is less of awe than of tenderness, and exquisite poetical delight, causing one, as he gazes upon its acc.u.mulated loveliness, almost to tremble with excess of gratification.

Many of the outlying towers of the main structure, now partly isolated by the crumbling of the connecting walls and pa.s.sages, are well worth attention. We visited them with great satisfaction, but they have been too often described to require special mention here. The guide related a legend connected with one of them which was new to us. It related to that known as La Cautiva, the inner walls of which are famous for their Moorish tracery. Here, it seems, a lovely Christian maiden was imprisoned, whom Yousuf I., then reigning monarch, desired to add to his harem. In vain were her pleadings, and her a.s.surance that she was the affianced bride of a n.o.ble knight. The king still importuned the maiden, though fruitlessly. She would not for one moment listen to his suit.

Finally, pressed to the last extreme of resistance, she sought protection in death, and threw herself from the lofty battlements of the tower upon the jagged rocks at its base. Here her mangled body was found by her knightly lover, who had come, but too late, with a band of daring followers, to rescue his beloved. His revenge was swift and terrible. In the little mosque hard by Yousuf I. paid the penalty for his persecution of the gentle maiden, for there he was killed by the disconsolate knight while he was kneeling in prayer.

Crossing the glen beyond the tower of La Cautiva and ascending the hill beyond we came upon what is called the Generalife, the summer palace of the Alhambra, with which, in the olden time, it was connected by an underground pa.s.sage, which is still traceable though filled in by decay and debris. This structure has been scarcely less noted than the main edifice, but one is rather disappointed at its simplicity and want of finish as compared with the Alhambra itself. The view from it is so fine that one feels amply repaid for the visit, though probably but a very small portion of the original structure remains, since it is now nothing more or less than a moderate-sized white villa, located in a wilderness of laurel, myrtle, and cypresses. Through its court-yards and gardens rushes a branch of the gold-bearing river, the Darro, spending itself in scores of fountains, tiny falls, cascades, and lakes. The grounds are full of venerable cypresses of great age and beauty, the only ones we had seen in Spain except in the English burial-ground at Malaga. Nor had we observed any elms except those of the grove planted by Wellington.

The gardens of the Generalife form its princ.i.p.al attraction, and the number of exotic trees and plants gathered here is remarkable. The place is now owned and cared for by the Genoese family of Grimaldi, who keep a few people on the premises to protect the property and cultivate the gardens. We were told the owner had never visited Granada. Pa.s.sing through a small rear door of the Generalife, the guide conducted us by a steep path to what is called the Moor's Seat, the apex of the neighboring heights, and between which and the mountain range of snow-clad peaks lies the heavily-wooded valley of the Darro on one side, and on the other the wide-spread vega of Granada. The view includes some fifteen villages, dotting plains more fertile than any other we had seen in the country. The atmosphere was clear, rendering the comprehensive view very fine, taking in as its foreground both the Alhambra and the Generalife. The visit to the Moor's Seat was not hurried. Time was taken to impress the outspread picture it afforded lastingly on the memory, for we could not reasonably expect to ever behold it again.

After coming down we reviewed the picture gallery of the Generalife, though hardly a "gallery," made up as it is of a series of daubs representing the kings and queens of Spain, with other members of the royal family, of some possible historic interest, but otherwise not worth the canvas on which they are painted. The guide was well supplied with legends about the Generalife as to the Sultana Zoraya and her guilty Abencerrage lover, and so forth; but we had listened to one about the tower not far away, and had so much occupation for the eyes that the ears were permitted to rest. All show places, and especially royal palaces, have their romantic legends: what would guides and guide-books otherwise amount to? But without exception let it be understood, these stories are a tissue of nonsense, founded on a modic.u.m of truth. Take as a fair example the universally accepted Byronic legends of the Bridge of Sighs at Venice, which Mr. Howells so quietly but thoroughly explodes by adducing the simplest historical facts.

Between the Alhambra and the Generalife, but not in a direct line, were located the headquarters of the gypsies of Spain, some four or five thousand of whom live in the rock caves adjoining the city, where the valley of the Darro affords a warm, sunny shelter. Holes excavated in the sloping mountain side form the homes of this singular and strongly individualized people, where they have had a recognized habitation for centuries. They are just the same renegade race that are found in other parts of Europe and the British Isles: picturesque in their rags, lawless in the extreme, and living almost entirely in the open air. In the faces of the men, who are as coa.r.s.e and uncultured as men can possibly be, there was expressed much of the same savage instinct that marked the features of those captured tigers exhibited at Jeypore. They are lazy and reckless, but fiery if roused to anger. Terrible domestic tragedies sometimes occur among them, as the guide explained to us. They observe certain principles of what has been termed "wild justice,"

having their king or queen as the case may be, and to such self-elected control only do they yield obedience. The men, like the women, affect gaudy colors, and both toss their loose, ragged garments about them after a graceful style all their own. The bronzed features, profuse black hair, and very dark eyes of these gypsies, often render them strikingly handsome; and when this dangerous heritage falls to the share of the young women, it often leads to experiences too tragic to record.

Many of the men wear embroidered velvet jackets, with hanging silver b.u.t.tons, like a Basque postilion, and add a scarlet sash about the waist, the legs being bound up in sheep's skins with fancy-colored ribbons, and the feet covered with crude sandals,--altogether quite a theatrical costume.

Gypsies worship high colors and cheap jewelry, and would spend their last farthing for either, though the question of whence the next meal was to come from might be an unsolved problem. They roam idly about the grounds of the Alhambra, but are not permitted to enter its walls, and no exterior picture of the structure would be true which did not introduce one or more of them in the foreground. Strangers generally visit their quarters in the valley, and for their entertainment they dance, tell fortunes, play tricks, and, if possible, steal from them.

Indeed it is hardly safe, without an experienced guide, to go among them. Their domestic life is represented to be of so objectionable a character that it will not bear discussing. Gypsies will not work unless driven to do so by absolute want, but necessity sometimes compels them; and so occasionally they may be found manipulating the waters of the swift-running Darro for gold, which is often found in paying quant.i.ties.

There is a local jeweler within the precincts of the Alhambra who makes the gold from this stream into mementos, which are a favorite investment with visitors, in the form of pins and brooches. The river Darro rises in a rocky gorge of the neighboring mountains, and comes tumbling down the valley within a stone's-throw of the gypsies' cave-dwellings, thence flows through the town, and is joined by the Xenil on the plain of Granada.

Close by the Alhambra, indeed almost within the walls, we visited the delightful villa of Madame Calderon de la Barca, who was once a resident of Boston, and who was well known and highly esteemed by our best people. This fine estate was presented to her, for valuable services, by the Spanish government. It is remarkable for its s.p.a.cious and beautifully arranged grounds, combining ornamentation and usefulness in a striking degree, and extending over some twenty acres of ground. Here are vineyards, fruit orchards, choice flower gardens, trees of various tropical species, among which we saw dates, cocoanuts, and figs, in thrifty condition, besides orchards of pears, plums, peaches, and apricots. Miniature waterfalls, lakes, and rivers, shaded walks, aviaries, and many other attractions showed a lavish expenditure in beautifying the place. The villa itself was closed, Madame Calderon being absent in England. At the keeper's lodge we found a Spanish family who carried on a large dairy, the cattle on the estate being of the choicest breed, and their management a favorite idea with the mistress of the estate. b.u.t.ter of good quality is scarce in Spain. That which was here produced found a ready market at the Washington Irving Hotel.

In strolling about the town many s.p.a.cious squares were seen, old palaces, houses in ruins, and deserted convents, all in apparent keeping with the general aspect of this faded and fading old city. We were taken by our intelligent guide to several notable localities, and among them to the humble dwelling-house where the ex-empress Eugenie was born, and where her childhood was pa.s.sed. A conspicuous tablet set in the facade of the house makes formal mention of the circ.u.mstance, observing which it was natural to recall, in one comprehensive thought, the strange, romantic, and tragic story of the now childless mother and unhonored widow of Chiselhurst. There would have been no Franco-Prussian War but for her reckless machinations; the Prince Imperial would not, in consequence of reverses thereby induced, have gone to Zululand to throw away his life; the map of Europe would not have been changed by the division of Alsace-Lorraine; and there would probably have been no Republic in France to-day.

There are some very odd and very ancient stone fountains in the city, supported by grotesque animals and impossible fishes, erected far back in the regal days of Ferdinand and Isabella. The sort of fancy which could have induced these unartistic designs it is difficult to conceive of; they only require a dragon's head on a human body to make them quite Chinese. The little, narrow, winding streets recalled the older portions of Genoa and Ma.r.s.eilles; yet people live in them, do business there, go shopping, and generally transact the usual affairs of town life, though the s.p.a.ce between the buildings which line these pa.s.sages is not sufficient to allow two donkeys to pa.s.s each other with loads on their backs. Now one comes upon a broken stone bridge spanning the Darro on a single broad arch of great sweep, under which the noisy river rushes tumultuously down hill, and wonders how long the toppling houses, which overhang the rapids, will maintain their equilibrium. The ruthless finger of Time seems to have touched everything, neglect being only too manifest everywhere; and yet no facade is so crumbled as not to sustain a flower-bedecked balcony. If the houses are inhabited, they bristle all over their whitewashed fronts with cl.u.s.ters of green and blossoming flowers, strongly relieved by the snowy background. The cloth doors of the Catholic churches swing invitingly at the touch, and over the door you are informed in good plain Spanish that plenary indulgences are retailed within. Shovel-hatted priests in goodly numbers dodge out and in, but there seem to be few customers from among the people. Persons, whom by their dress and appearance one would suppose to be in comfortable circ.u.mstances, come boldly up to tourists and ask for a few cents, seeming to have no feelings of pride or delicacy. Travelers are looked upon as fair game in Spain; and still one is rather nonplused to be importuned for coppers by well-dressed strangers, and is apt to conclude that st.u.r.dy beggars can bear stout denials. Now we come upon the ruins of a square stone tower, which anciently formed a portion of the public baths; and here an old Arabian gate, arch and battlement still standing. Near the Alameda another is seen, and gardens, once connected by a subterranean pa.s.sage with the distant Alhambra, away on the hill. Here an arch and there a crumbling column, all souvenirs of the exiled Moor.

We visited the Royal Chapel which adjoins the Cathedral, where the magnificent tomb of Ferdinand and Isabella is the chief object of interest. The effigies of the two lie side by side, hewn from the marble in life-like proportions, and rest upon a lofty sarcophagus in front of the great altar. Close by these is a similar tomb in white marble, representing, in the same position and style, Joanna and her husband, Philip of Burgundy. In the vault below were seen the four coffins containing the several bodies of the royal dead, the leaden covering to one of which had been pried off by French bayonets in search of treasures supposed to have been buried with the body. But this sacrilegious injury to the casket has been carefully repaired. Close at hand, in a corner of this vault, was seen the metallic coffin which contains the remains of Prince Miguel of Portugal,--the little fellow who was thrown from his pony while riding in the streets of Granada and killed. Had this boy lived to grow to man's estate, he would doubtless have united and reigned over both Spain and Portugal. The cathedral, which adjoins the chapel, is one of the glories of Spain, so to speak, and is a very grand and n.o.ble structure, full of superb workmanship, art treasures in oil paintings, and sculpture; among which are examples from Alonzo Cano and Torrigiano. The architectural effect of the interior is harmonious and beautiful, and was the work, or rather design, of Diego de Siloe, whose father was a famous sculptor, and, if we mistake not, was the author of that marvelous alabaster tomb at the convent of Miraflores, in Burgos. This cathedral was finished three hundred and sixty odd years ago, a year after the death of Ferdinand, who survived Isabella some twelve years.

In the sacristy we were shown portraits of Philip and Joanna, and, in one of the chapels, admirable pictures of Ferdinand and Isabella. The relics in the sacristy are of special interest. Here we saw the golden crown of Isabella, and, above all in interest, the precious box of pure gold from which she sold her jewels, to purchase an outfit to enable Columbus to sail on his first voyage to the new world. The box is exquisitely engraved, and has a few precious stones inlaid upon it: we see no such engraving nowadays. It was very heavy, as pure ore always is, and was some twelve inches long, half as wide, and about five inches in depth. It was impossible not to feel a thrill of emotion upon taking in one's hand this sacred relic. We were also shown the state sword of Ferdinand, and the royal sceptre carried by Isabella. Everything relating to this "queen of earthly queens" is of vital interest, and especially so to Americans. It was she whom Bacon described as "an honor to her s.e.x and the corner-stone of the greatness of Spain." We were reminded, while looking upon these precious objects belonging to the king and queen, of the Bridge of Pinos, which was pointed out to us on the previous day as the spot from whence Columbus, quite discouraged and brokenhearted, was recalled by Isabella, after having been denied and dismissed, as both supposed, for the last time. It was at this bridge that the messenger of the relenting queen overtook the great Pilot, and brought him back to arrange the expedition which resulted in the discovery of America. We had previously seen in the Alhambra the Hall of the Amba.s.sadors, where the queen gave audience to Columbus, and now the jewel-box served more strongly to emphasize the historical a.s.sociation.

A visit in the environs of the city to a place bearing the Moorish name of Hinadamar should not be forgotten, nor should any traveler who finds himself in Granada neglect to go there. Here we were shown through the convent known as the Cartuja, which has been virtually abandoned since monastic rule in Spain was deposed. It is now in charge of civil officers of the government, and one service is held each week in the chapel. It is really wonderful in the minuteness and splendid finish of its ornamentation. Here is seen an endless amount of jasper, marble, ivory, ebony, and tortoise-sh.e.l.l, in the form of carved and inlaid work, curious beyond description. Most of theses ornamentations, as well as the paintings, were the work of brothers of the order, who must have spent half a life-time in their consummation. The cloisters are surrounded by a wretched series of life-size paintings in fresco of the mystic type, also the work of brothers attached to the convent, representing Carthusians tormented by the English in the time of Henry VIII. But here and there was seen the work of an artistic hand shining out conspicuously above its surroundings. Apparently hanging high up on the bare wall of the sacristy is a large wooden cross, of such statuesque effect, so perfectly foreshortened and shaded, that it was difficult to believe it to be a painting, however carefully examined from the floor. The old sacristan told us that it was painted by a brother of the order named Juan Sanchez Cotan, who certainly had a painter's genius and a master's skill with the brush. Alonzo Cano has here one or two remarkable statuettes in marble, though we think of him rather as a painter than a sculptor. Some of the large pieces of variegated marble which form the base work, fonts, and tables of the chapel, are beautiful examples of the natural stone as quarried in the neighboring mountains. Indeed, larger, or finer agates cannot be found in Europe than those which ornament the Cartuja. In the natural veins of the large marbles the guide takes pleasure in suggesting likenesses to various objects, which, when once mentioned, easily form themselves to the imagination, as a wayward fancy sometimes depicts forms in the fleeting clouds at twilight.

There is a dearth of song-birds in Granada. We heard of, but not from, the nightingales in the sacred precincts of the Alhambra. Perhaps it was not the favored season, however, for this purpose. The people themselves are naturally musical and music-loving. Even the street-cries uttered by youthful and middle-aged vendors are rendered in such harmonious notes as to strike the ear agreeably. This was noticed in Malaga, and also claimed our attention here. On the road one not infrequently meets some roughly-dressed muleteer at the head of his string of heavily-laden animals, caroling forth luscious notes in a fine tenor voice which a Brignoli might envy. A taste for music is born in the people, few of whom are too poor to own and play upon a guitar or some musical instrument. The only difference between Spain and Italy in this respect is that here one does not recognize the music, while in Italy we usually hear the strains of some familiar opera.

CHAPTER XII.

Granada to Cordova.--An Antique City.--The Guadalquivir.--Old Roman Bridge.--The Grand Mosque-Cathedral of Cordova.--Court of Orange-Trees.--Army of Beggars.--From Cordova to Madrid.--Local Characteristics of the Capital.--The Gate of the Sun.--The King and Queen in Public.--The Royal Palace.--Spanish Ladies and Gentlemen.--The Fan.--The Picture-Gallery of Madrid.--National Sport of the Bull-Fight.--Cowardice!--Interesting Visit to the City of Toledo.--The Escurial.

The journey from Granada to Cordova covers a distance of about a hundred and twenty-five miles, and pa.s.ses through a comparatively well-cultivated and interesting country, where the vine, the orange, and the lemon, together with the universal olive, are abundant and thrifty.

The oil extracted from the latter product forms a large source of profit to the southern and middle provinces of Spain. The road, soon after starting, lay through a succession of valleys and lofty hills, rendering the construction of many tunnels and viaducts necessary. Occasionally we came out of one of these tunnels upon a broad prairie-like plain, where flocks of goats, sheep, and horned cattle, tended by herdsmen, were struggling to get a scanty subsistence from very unpromising fields. Not infrequently there came into view a pretty white hamlet of a score of dwellings, dominated by a rude castellated structure, and a square-towered church surmounted by a cross. Here and there were crumbling strongholds, monuments of the days when the Moors held sway over the land.

At last we reached Cordova, where it seemed that something untoward must surely happen, as we were driven through the narrow, deserted, cobble-stoned streets in a hotel omnibus, the hubs of the wheels sc.r.a.ping the stone buildings on either side alternately. n.o.body but Moors would have constructed such lanes and called them streets, though doubtless they aimed to exclude the intense heat of the sun's rays. The neatly white-washed houses, like those in Havana, have the lower windows all barred with iron, as if they were so many prisons, and fitted to keep people in or out, as the occupants might desire. Looking about us curiously it was natural to recall the slumber of Rip Van Winkle, and to wonder seriously if the place was destined ever to wake up. How any shops afford their proprietors a subsistence here is a marvel. The few to be seen had but one shutter down, the rest being rusty with disuse.

There were a plenty of broad-brimmed hats with priests under them, a sure crop in Spain, but scarcely a citizen was to be seen, or aught else to be noticed, except a few rusty towers and antique fountains.

Everything seemed impregnated with decay, more desolate than an actual ruin, because of its moth-eaten vitality, which left nothing to hope for. Plainly the only life in Cordova is that imported by curious travelers from abroad, who make pilgrimages. .h.i.ther to see its few historic monuments, and to behold a Herculaneum above ground.

We looked about us for specimens of the famous breed of Cordova horses, of whom poets have sung and kings were covetous. There were a few animals to be seen with fine manes and tails, with arching necks and l.u.s.trous coats, but their forms would not compare with some neglected creatures whose blood showed through dirt and hard usage, at the Slave Market in Tangier. There may have been n.o.ble ancestors to these Cordova animals a thousand years ago, but they must have been crossed with mongrel races too many times to show good traces to-day.

This is one of the most ancient cities in the country, having been the capital of Moorish Spain a thousand years ago. The walls which still surround it are flanked by octagonal and square towers of Saracenic origin. From the ninth to the twelfth century it boasted a million inhabitants, and we read of its public library which contained six hundred thousand volumes. The present population cannot exceed forty or fifty thousand. Is it possible that this was once the largest city in the western world,--once the centre of European civilization? So at least history informs us. Not even one foundation of its three hundred mosques can be found to-day. Seneca and Lucan were born here before the time of Christ, and the guide rehea.r.s.ed with voluble facility some other high-sounding names of historic fame who were natives of the place, but who were quite unfamiliar to us. When we pointed, however, to the broad, pale-yellow river crossed by the old Roman bridge, and asked its name, he replied: "The Guadalquivir," and the name rang softly on the ear like a strain of half-forgotten music. The old stone bridge, with its broad, irregular arches, was an object of much interest, and is, undoubtedly, with its two flanking towers, the oldest visible object in Cordova, though it was an important city in Caesar's time. The bridge is about the sixteenth of a mile in length, and after two thousand years of battling with the elements is firm and substantial still. Romans, Moors, and Spaniards have fiercely battled at its entrances, the tide of victory and of defeat sweeping again and again across its roadway, which has many times been made slippery with human blood. How often has it witnessed royal pageants, ecclesiastical parades, murderous personal conflicts, and how often been the rendezvous of lovers and of whispering groups of conspirators. Here have been enacted many vivid scenes in the long line of centuries. What a volume might that old bridge furnish of history and of romance! During our brief stay this spot was a favorite resort, usually supplementing our visits to the cathedral, which is near at hand. Leaning over its stone barriers, we watched the rapid stream which doubtless flows on just as it has done for twenty centuries.

Palaces temples, towers, and shrines crumble, nations rise and fall, but the Guadalquivir still flows on. Just below the bridge, perhaps fifty yards away, are the ruins of an ancient Moorish grist-mill of stone, forming a strikingly picturesque object, in its shattered condition, amid the foaming rapids.

We visited a museum of antiquities, but it was in a dark, inappropriate building, gloomy and cobwebby, smothered in dust and obscurity; so out of the way, indeed, that it was difficult to find, and our guide was obliged to inquire where the inst.i.tution was! The traveler may conscientiously omit a visit to the blind alley which contains the Museum of Antiquities at Cordova. The guide, by the way, we found much more intent upon selling us Spanish lace than anxious to impart desirable local information. To be a good guide, as Izaak Walton says of anglers and poets, a man must be born so.

The one great and nearly unrivaled interest of Cordova is its cathedral, an architectural wonder, erected some sixteen centuries since, and hallowed by age and historical a.s.sociations. Beautiful are its still remaining thousand and one interior supporting columns, composed of porphyry, jasper, granite, alabaster, verd-antique, and marble of various colors. Think of that vandal Charles V. destroying two hundred of them: he who was capable of tearing down a portion of the Alhambra to make room for his barrack of a palace! Each of the columns upholds a small pilaster, and between them is a horse-shoe arch, no two columns being precisely alike,--as they came from Greece, Rome, Constantinople, Damascus, Africa, and some are said to have come from the Temple at Jerusalem, as also from Paestum and c.u.mae. All the then known world was put under contribution to furnish this wonderful temple.

The great mosque was changed into a cathedral after the expulsion of the Arabs; but a large portion of the interior is untouched, and remains as it was when the caliphs worshiped here. We felt oppressed by a sensation of gloom wandering amid the dark forest of pillars. It is, and always will be, a mosque, as characteristic and typical as the most marked shrine in the East. The Holy of Holies, as sacred to the Spanish Arabians as Mecca to those of the East, has been preserved intact, and is by far the most interesting portion of the structure. Here all the original lace-like ornamentation is entirely undisturbed, and looks as though it were a hall taken bodily out of the Alhambra. The Moslem pilgrims from far and near came to this spot, and walked seven times round it, the marble pavement being visibly worn by the bare knees of devout Mussulmans.

Just outside of this large alcove, which is very similar to a side chapel in a modern cathedral, there was pointed out to us the finest piece of mosaic in the world. It originally came from Constantinople, and was the gift of the Emperor Roma.n.u.s II. It contains, in accordance with the Moslem faith, no representation of any living thing; but is perfection in its graceful vines, leaves, and scroll work. The deep glowing colors, crimson and green dominating, are as bright to-day as when it first came, perhaps two thousand years ago, from the artist's hand. It recalled the contemporary productions exhumed at Pompeii, and now to be seen in the Museum at Naples. These latter however, as we remember them, are neither so large nor so choice as this masterpiece in the Cordova Mosque. The cathedral, as a whole, has been p.r.o.nounced by experienced travelers to be the greatest architectural curiosity in Europe. It is a strange conglomerate and jumble of incongruities, half-Christian, half-Saracenic, reminding one strongly of the Church of St. Mark at Venice,--having, like that remarkable structure, borrowed many of its columns and ornaments from the far East. Inside and out it is gloomy, ma.s.sive, and frowning, forming the most remarkable link between the remote past and the present existing in Spain. It appears to be nearly as large upon the ground as St. Peter's at Rome, and contains fifty separate chapels within its capacious walls. It has, in its pa.s.sage through the several dynasties of Roman, Moorish, and Spanish rule, received distinctive architectural marks from each. Its large, cool court of orange-trees, centuries old; its battlemented wall and huge gateway; its famous fountains and its mingled palms and tall cypresses, all combine to perfect a picture suggestive of the dead and buried races connected with its history.

This famous court-yard is of scarcely less interest than the interior of the great Cathedral-Mosque itself. It has at each end a colonnade of marble pillars supporting circular arches, and the grounds are broad and s.p.a.cious. Here a battalion of professional beggars were drawn up in battle array as we entered, numbering fifty or sixty of both s.e.xes, and of all ages. The poor creatures formed both a pitiable and a picturesque group, composed of the lame, the halt, and the blind. On the greensward just back of them, under the shade of the dark-leaved orange-trees, played troops of careless children, who had been sent here by their parents to beg, but had forgotten their vocation. Sitting on the stone bench, which surrounds the outside walls of the mosque, were little groups of hale and hearty men, playing cards and smoking; while others, stretched at full length upon the ground, slept just where the dancing sunlight pierced the leaves and branches of the trees and mottled their faces with its shimmering rays. Idleness is the general business of Cordova. What a strange, weird aspect the deep shades a.s.sumed beneath the graceful palms and slender cypresses. The Babel of pleading tongues from the beggars, the merry voices of the laughing children, the angry dispute of some card players, and the cool business-like aspect of the priests shuffling about the corridors, while a little confusing was still impressive.

The best dwelling-houses in Cordova are built upon the Moorish model; that is, they have a central court or garden, visible from the street entrance, which is adorned with trees, flowers, and fountains, usually guarded by an iron gate and an inner gla.s.s door. The domestic life of the family centres here, where in summer a broad canvas is drawn over the top, and the meals are taken underneath in the open air. We saw, late in March, orange and lemon-trees blooming in these areas, as well as Bengal monthly and common white roses, tea-roses, verbenas, tiger-lilies, carnations, and scarlet geraniums. Neither the palm nor the orange will grow without shelter in this part of Spain,--the north winds being too cold and piercing,--except by artificial culture. Spain is almost a treeless country, her immense olive orchards serving but partially to redeem the barren aspect of the southern and middle districts. In the orange court of the Grand Mosque, the lofty old Moorish wall forms a protecting screen. The Alameda of Cordova must be quite denuded of foliage in winter, exposed as it is to the north winds and frosty nights. It is a short but very broad thoroughfare, with a tree-lined promenade through its centre, like that at Malaga, but it seemed singularly out of place in a city so utterly void of life and animation.

Spain is a country of beggars, but in this ancient town one is actually beset by them. Travelers, stopping at the same hotel with us, abbreviated their stay in the city on account of this great annoyance.

As far as one can judge, these people have no pressing reason for begging. It has become a habit, and strangers are importuned as a matter of course. Cannot the priests do something to mitigate this great evil?

In Spain evidence is not lacking to show that the Roman Catholic faith inspires deep religious sentiment, but without religious principle. The more blindly ignorant the ma.s.ses of the people are, the greater is the influence of the priesthood. Not one of the famous Spanish cathedrals but has within its vaults so-called sacred treasures of great amount, in gold and silver plate and other material, the intrinsic value of which in each instance large, being aggregated, would furnish a sum nearly large enough to liquidate the national debt. At Toledo, for instance, the mantle called the Robe of the Virgin is covered with precious stones, so large and choice that its value has been estimated at a million of Spanish dollars; and this is but one item of value stored in that rich church. So at Malaga, Seville, Cordova, and Burgos, not to name other places of which we can speak with less personal knowledge, each is a small Golconda of riches, yet the common people starve. A horde of priests, altogether out of proportion to the necessities of the case from any point of view, are kept up, the most useless of non-producers, and whence comes their support but from this very poverty-burdened ma.s.s of the common people? When Philip II. was told of the destruction of the great Spanish Armada, which had cost a hundred million ducats, he only said: "I thank G.o.d for having given me the means of bearing such a loss without embarra.s.sment, and power to fit out another fleet of equal size!" And yet there were starving millions in Spain at that time as there are to-day.

From Cordova to Madrid is nearly three hundred miles, the first half of which distance we pa.s.sed over in the daytime, lightening the journey by enjoyment of the pleasing scenery and local peculiarities. Though it was quite early in the spring, still the fields were verdant and full of promise. More than once a gypsy camp was pa.s.sed by the side of some cross-road, presenting the usual domestic group, mingled with animals, covered carts, lazy men stretched on the greensward, and busy women cooking the evening meal. Long strings of mules, with wide-spread panniers, came winding across the plain, sometimes in charge of a woman clad in gaudy colors, while her lazy husband thrummed a guitar, lying across one of the mules. Towards evening groups of peasants, male and female, with farming tools in their hands, were seen wending their steps towards some hamlet after the day's labor. Arched stone bridges, old and moss-grown, came into view, spanning small water-courses, on their way from the mountains to join more pretentious streams. Elevated spots often showed the ruins of the old stone towers, once a part of some feudal stronghold, but the eye sought in vain for well-wooded slopes or thrifty groves; and yet, strange to say, the song-birds which we had missed further south, in Andalusia and at Granada, put in an appearance as we came north, cheering us with their soft trilling notes in the amber sunshine that radiated about the small railroad stations. Some of these depots were rendered attractive and pretty by nicely arranged flower-beds and a few trees, imparting a home-like appearance. The ever-varying scenery kept mind and eyes busy, until by and by Night dropped her mantle over the face of nature, and with the darkness came a cool and nipping air. Then followed two hundred miles of tedious night travel, with no convenience for sleeping, except such as one could obtain sitting bolt upright, so that when daylight and Madrid arrived together, we were ready to welcome them both.

Why Charles V. should have made his capital on the spot now occupied by Madrid it is difficult to understand--though writers suppose a half a dozen reasons--except that it is the geographical centre of Spain. Eight or nine hundred years ago it was a fortified outpost of Toledo, "imperial" Toledo. It is hemmed in on all sides by arid plains, and has an adjacent river, so-called, but which in America would be known as a dry gulch. If there is any special benefit to be derived from a waterless river, we have yet to learn its character. Like the Arno at Florence, it is troubled with a chronic thirst; in short, the Manzanares has the form of a river without the circulation. In the days of Charles II. its dry bed was turned into a sort of race-course and drive-way, but since the completion of the Prado it has been abandoned for even this purpose. Though Madrid is situated between two and three thousand feet above the level of the sea, it does not seem to possess the advantages usually following such a position, the climate being scorchingly hot in summer and piercingly cold in winter. Thus, in point of climate and location, the Spanish capital seems to be a mistake.

As Madrid was built when the age of cathedrals had pa.s.sed, it has none within its borders, though there is no lack of modern churches; but it is a large and fine city, with some four hundred thousand inhabitants.

It is not noticeable, like Genoa, Rome, and Florence, for palaces and ancient monuments; but it is well laid out; the streets are broad and nicely paved; while numerous squares ornament the city, filled with attractive shrubbery, fountains, and statues. Among the latter we recall those of Murillo, Philip III., Cervantes, Lopez de Vega, Philip V., Calderon, and others. The finest statue in the city, to our taste, is that of Philip IV., representing the monarch as on horseback, the animal in a prancing position,--a wonderfully life-like bronze, designed by Velasquez and cast by Pietro Tacca at Florence. It forms the centre of the Plaza del Oriente, directly in front of the royal palace, from which it is separated, however, by a broad thoroughfare. According to history, Galileo showed how the true balance of the horse could be sustained in its remarkable position, the whole weight of rider and animal resting on the hind legs. On the Prado, the grand public drive of the citizens, there are fine marble statues and groups, combined with fountains, representative of Neptune, Apollo, and Cybele.

The Puerto del Sol is the Place del 'Opera of Madrid, always full of sparkle, life, and color, radiating from which there are a dozen large streets with two or three broad boulevards. Here all the lines of tramways meet and diverge, and the congregated fashionable idlers of the town hold high carnival daily and nightly. Our windows overlooked the Puerto del Sol (the Gate of the Sun), where the whirl of carriages, the rush of pedestrians, the pa.s.sing of military bands with marching regiments, equestrians; priests decked out in church paraphernalia, preceded by smoking incense, burning candles, etc., bound to some death-bed; itinerant peddlers, and news-vendors, each hastening on some individual purpose, made the plaza a scene of incessant movement from early morning until midnight. Like Paris and Vienna, Madrid does not seem to awake until evening, and the tide of life becomes the most active under the glare of gas-lights which are as numerous at midnight as the fireflies that float over a sugar plantation. The fine shops surrounding this brilliant square, which is the real geographical heart of Madrid, are more Parisian than Spanish. The large plate-gla.s.s windows present a tempting array of jewelry, laces, silver-ware and rich fancy goods, in a style and of a quality that would do no discredit to the Rue de la Paix or the Boulevard des Italiens. Indeed, it is mostly French people who keep these shops, and there is a manifest tendency of the upper cla.s.ses to adopt French manners, customs, and language. Paris serves as a model to Madrid in all matters relating to fashionable life.

There is a large fountain and mammoth basin of water in the centre of the square, a stream being forced to a height of fifty or sixty feet, in a graceful column, night and day, the effect of which is heightened by the brilliant array of gas-lights. The sidewalks are here at least forty feet wide, upon which, in business hours, many merchants are accustomed to meet for the discussing of affairs, and to gossip before the several hotels which front on the plaza.

Speaking of the fountain in the Puerto del Sol recalls the fact that the citizens owe it to the energy and skill of foreign engineers that they enjoy the luxury of an ample supply of good water; and foreign engineers are doing or have done the same thing for other Spanish cities, though, in fact, only restoring the ancient supplies first constructed by the quick-witted Moors, and wantonly permitted to crumble into ruin by the Spaniards. They are not sufficiently enterprising or progressive to originate any such scheme for the public good. They even dislike the railroads, though they are compelled to use them; dislike them because they force them to observe punctuality, the native instinct being of the Chinese school, retrospective and retrograding. Everything is exotic in Madrid; nothing is produced in or near the city which its daily consumption demands. Strawberries, b.u.t.ter, cheese, fruits, meats, each comes from some special region far away to this human hive located in the desert. The city adds to its other drawbacks that of being very unwholesome as a residence, and would die out from natural causes if its population were not constantly renewed from the several provinces. There is a native proverb to the effect that so subtle is the air of Madrid, it kills a man but does not put out a candle. Why it is so unhealthy a place, especially for strangers, it is impossible to say. The same extreme difference between the sunshine and the shade is here realized which one experiences at Nice, Mentone, and Naples. The air seemed pure and clear enough during our two weeks' stay, but every one admitted its very unwholesome character. When the breeze swept down from the snowy Guadarrama, it cut like a knife, but that was a condition of temperature which one could guard against, not an atmospheric impurity. If Madrid were surrounded by and ornamented with trees, like Wiesbaden or Baden-Baden, it might prove a favorable sanitary measure, besides adding so much to its beauty. In Paris, Rome, or Venice, fires are not common in domestic living rooms, except in extremes of weather; but at Madrid, if the day is cool and damp, the cheerful, warmth-diffusing fire is lighted and regarded as a necessity.

The king and queen of Spain pa.s.sed through the Puerto del Sol in an open carriage nearly every afternoon during our stay, attended by half a dozen outriders, and drawn by four superb horses; for Alfonso's royal stable, as we can testify, is justly celebrated. The king rides with his hat in his hand in response to the ceaseless recognitions of respect by the people, who, however, never cheer him, and yet he appears to be fairly popular with the ma.s.ses. He has seemed thus far to follow rather than to lead public sentiment, perhaps realizing the precarious nature of his seat upon the throne; remembering that the nation has a rather erratic manner of changing its rulers when displeased with them. He is quite youthful in appearance. The queen, though by no means handsome, has a pleasing face, and is represented to be of a very amiable character. It will be remembered that his first wife, Mercedes, died while yet a bride, at the age of eighteen, much regretted and much beloved. Alfonso has, in a few public instances, shown a progressive and enlightened spirit; but were he to permit himself to be demonstrative in this direction, he would not be supported either by his councillors or the public, who are imbued with the true Castilian dormancy even in this nineteenth century. He has undertaken, out of his private purse, to restore many decaying monuments of the country, and is noticeably spending money freely for this purpose, not only in Cordova, but also at Toledo, Madrid, and Burgos.

On the occasions when the king and queen drove out, the royal carriage was generally attended by a second, in which was ex-empress Isabella, at the time on a visit to the royal palace, though she makes her home at present in Paris. She is fat, dowdy, and vulgar in appearance, with features indicative of sensuousness and indulgence in coa.r.s.e appet.i.tes.

The last time we saw her was in the Puerto del Sol, as she rode in a carriage behind the royal vehicle, with a lady companion by her side, to whom she was talking very earnestly, accompanying her words with the most energetic and emphatic gesticulation of the right forefinger. The more we heard of this woman, the less we could respect her; and yet we were told by intelligent natives that she is to-day very popular in Madrid, much more so than in other parts of the country. If this is true, it is only a reflection upon the moral instincts of the people themselves. The royal palace is located upon a slightly rising site, and is so isolated as to give full effect to its fine architecture and excellent general design. It is the only building of a remarkable character, architecturally, in the city; which, for a European capital, is in this respect very ordinary and plain. The Madrid palace is undoubtedly the largest and finest in Europe, and belongs to the Tuscan style. It cost between five and six millions of dollars a hundred years ago. The base is granite, but the upper portion is built of a fine white stone, closely resembling marble. The royal family being at home, as well as the ex-queen being there, we could not visit the palace, but were told of its interior magnificence, by those familiar with it. It contains a rich chapel, library, and theatre, with a remarkably beautiful collection of tapestries. The throne room is said to be gorgeous and its ornaments of lavish cost. In the absence of the royal occupants, strangers are admitted under proper auspices.

The Prado is to Madrid what the Champs Elysees and the Bois de Boulogne are to Paris,--a splendid avenue, through the centre of which runs a continuous walk and garden, with elaborate stone fountains, somewhat similar to the Unter den Linden of Berlin, or Commonwealth Avenue, Boston, save that it is more extensive than either. The Prado nearly joins the Public Garden on the borders of the city, in which there are also fine carriage drives, roadways for equestrians, many delightful shaded walks, and paths lined with flowers, myrtles, groves, and sweet-leaved hedges, intermingled with fountains, lakes, arbors, refreshment houses, etc. On Sundays and fete days these grounds are thronged with citizens and their families for out-door enjoyment, riding, and driving. Here also several military bands are distributed, adding to the acc.u.mulated attractions. There is a certain dignity and appearance of refinement observable among the gentlemen one meets on the Prado and in the streets, but we look in vain for the traditional sombrero, which has been superseded by the conventional stove-pipe hat; while the graceful Spanish cloak has given way to the stiff European body overcoat. The Spanish ladies, with their large black eyes and dark olive complexions, are generally quite handsome, but they rouge, and powder, and paint their faces in a lavish manner. Indeed, they seem to go further in this direction than do the Parisians, obviously penciling eyes and eyebrows,--an addition which their brunette complexion requires least of all. With the public actress this resort is admissible, where effects are necessary to be produced for distant spectators in large audiences; but in daily life even custom does not rob it of its inevitable aspect of vulgarity. True, all nations resort to such artifices, more or less, especially in southern Europe. The Chinese ladies carry the practice of painting their faces so far as to amount to caricature; and if the j.a.panese ladies do not so generally follow the example, they do blacken their teeth, which one must confess is more objectionable still. In these faithful notes it must be admitted that even the j.a.panese ladies paint cheeks and lips with such a tinge of vermilion as is thought to be becoming, and enamel their faces and necks. This, however, it must be remembered is before marriage. After that relationship has taken place, as has before been intimated, it becomes the ridiculous practice of every j.a.panese wife to render herself as unattractive as possible, forgetting that she is thus liable to become as disagreeable in the eyes of her husband as in those of other people.

The Spanish lady, like her j.a.panese sister, is a great devotee to the fan, and neither are ever seen abroad in full dress without this conspicuous accompaniment. The importance of this article of female requirement is fully recognized at Madrid, where many stores are devoted solely to its manufacture and sale; while artists give much time and genius to their elaborate ornamentation, the prices ranging from a few shillings to ten doubloons. The indispensable veil, covering more or less head, neck, and face, would prove but a poor subst.i.tute for the dainty French bonnet on the Parisian boulevards; but in Castilian atmosphere it is as appropriate and becoming as the florid-colored plumage of birds in the tropics. There is a certain harmony between the dark, smooth skin, the glossy raven hair, the long, dark lashes, the blue veins of the temples, and the national head-dress of the Spanish ladies, which gratifies the artistic eye. Ah! if the mind in those lovely women were but as n.o.ble as their faces! Unfortunately, perhaps, their very beauty makes their defects the more conspicuous. Ermine must be spotless.

In her splendid art collection of the Museo, the city has a treasure only equaled by the Louvre at Paris and the galleries at Florence. To artists, it is the one attraction of Madrid, and is princ.i.p.ally composed of works by the Spanish masters, though also containing many other gems.