Here we find forty-four examples of Murillo, sixty-four from Velasquez, sixty by Rubens, twenty-five from Paul Veronese, thirty-four from Tintoretto, and many from Andrea del Sarto, t.i.tian, Vand.y.k.e, Goya, Ribera, and others of similar artistic fame, in such profusion as to be a constant source of surprise to the stranger. Here one is sure to meet, daily, intelligent Americans, French, Italians, and English, but very rarely Spaniards. It is believed that Murillo appears at his best in this collection. Being a native of Seville, he is in a measure seen at home; and artists declare that his work shows more of light, power, and expression here than anywhere outside of the Museo. So we go to Antwerp to appreciate Rubens, though we find him so ably and fully represented elsewhere. Velasquez cannot be fairly judged outside the Madrid gallery.

He also was at home here, and his paintings are not only the most numerous, but are decidedly his best. The arrangement of the pictures of the Museo is severely criticised; some of the best are hung too high, while those one does not care to study, or scarcely to see at all, have been accorded the best lines in the gallery. There seems to be no system observed; the hangings are frequently altered, and the printed catalogue is thus rendered of very little use. The building itself is a large and admirable structure, well adapted to the purpose, quite worthy to contain the choice art treasures beneath its roof. When the French were masters in Spain they proved to be terrible iconoclasts, leaving marks of their devastation nearly everywhere in one form or another. Not content with stealing many unequaled works of art of priceless value, they often wantonly destroyed what it was impossible to carry away. In the tomb of Ferdinand and Isabella, at Granada, it will be remembered they pried open the royal coffins in search of treasure. At Seville they broke open the coffin of Murillo, and scattered his ashes to the wind.

Marshal Soult treated the ashes of Cervantes in a similar manner. War desecrates all things, human and divine; but sometimes becomes a Nemesis, dispensing poetical justice, as when Waterloo caused the return to Spain of a portion of her despoiled art-treasures.

The bull-fight is very properly called the national sport of Spain, and, we are sorry to add, is typical of the natural cruelty of her people. It was the opening exhibition of the season which was advertised to take place during the first week of our stay in the city, and it was announced for Sunday afternoon, the day usually selected for these occasions; but as it proved to be rainy it was postponed to the following Thursday. The bull-ring of the capital is said to contain seating capacity for eighteen thousand persons; and yet such was the demand for tickets of admission, that it was a work of some hours to procure them at all, and only consummated finally at a considerable premium. Our seats were near to those of the royal party, consisting of the king, queen, and ex-queen Isabella, with a number of ladies and gentlemen of the household. The easy and graceful manners of the queen were in strong contrast to the arrogant and vulgar style of Isabella, whose character is so dark a stain upon Spanish royalty. Every seat of the large circular theatre was occupied. Open to the sky, it was not unlike what the Coliseum of Rome must have been in its glory, and held an audience, we should judge, of over seventeen thousand. Nearly all cla.s.ses were represented, for a Spaniard must be poor indeed who cannot find a dollar to pay his way into the bull-ring. The better seats were occupied by ladies and gentlemen, the lower priced ones by the ma.s.ses,--both s.e.xes being fully represented in each cla.s.s of seats.

Those located on the east and southerly sides are covered to protect the grandees, while the ma.s.ses sitting in the sun hold fans or paper screens before their eyes.

There was a cold, murderous, business-like aspect to all the arrangements, and everything, however repulsive to strangers, was taken by the audience at large quite as a matter of course. The immense crowd were not very noisy or demonstrative, contenting themselves with smoking and chatting together. It was curious and interesting, while waiting for the commencement of the performance, to study the features of the audience, and watch their earnest gesticulations; for the Spaniards, like the Italians, talk with their whole bodies,--hands, arms, head, trunk, and all. The ladies, as usual, were each supplied with that prime necessity, a fan; and it is astonishing what a weapon of coquetry it becomes in the delicate hands of a Spanish beauty. Its coy archness is beyond comparison, guided by the pliant wrist of the owner, concealing or revealing her eloquent glances and features. With her veil and her fan, a Spanish woman is armed _cap-a-pie_, and in Cupid's warfare becomes irresistible.

The author had seen the cruelty of the bull-ring exhibited years ago in the Spanish West Indies, yet to visit Madrid, the headquarters of all things Spanish, and not to witness the national sport, would have been a serious omission; and therefore, suppressing a strong sense of distaste, the exhibition was attended. The hateful cruelty of the bull-ring has been too often and too graphically described to require from us the unwelcome task. Suffice it to say we saw six powerful and courageous bulls killed, who, in their brave self-defense, disemboweled and killed thirteen horses. No man was seriously injured, though several were dismounted, and others run over by the enraged bulls in headlong career across the arena. The picadores were mounted on poor hacks, since the fate of the horse that entered the ring was as certain as that of the bull himself. The banderilleros and chulos, who took part in the combat on foot, were fine looking, active young fellows; and the matadores, who performed the final act of killing the bull single-handed, were as a rule older and more experienced men. It must be a practiced hand that gives the last thrust to the many-times wounded and nearly exhausted creature, who will always fight to the very last gasp.

The matadore is regarded as quite a hero by the ma.s.ses of the people, receiving a princely remuneration for his services. He holds his head very high among his a.s.sociates. One of these matadores was long the disgraceful favorite of Queen Isabella. We came away from this exhibition more than ever convinced of the cowardly character of the game. The requisite, on the part of the much lauded bull-fighter, is not courage but cunning. He knows full well when the bull is so nearly exhausted as to render his final attack upon him quite safe. A dozen against one, twelve armed men against one animal, who has the protection only of his horns and his stout courage. The death of the bull is sure from the moment he enters the ring, but the professional fighters are rarely hurt, though often very much frightened. Another most shameful part of the game is the introduction of poor, broken-down horses, who have yet strength and spirit enough to faithfully obey their rider, and so rush forward regardless of the horns of the bull, which will surely disembowel and lay them dead upon the field. The matadore who finally faces the bull single-handed, to give him the _coup-de-grace_ with his Toledo blade, does not do so until the animal has struggled with his other tormentors nearly to the last gasp, is weak from the loss of blood, and his strength exhausted by a long and gallant fight, so that he already staggers and is nearly blind with acc.u.mulated torments. The poor creature is but a sorry victim for the fresh, well-armed, practiced butcher, who comes to give him the finishing stroke. We would emphasize the remark that the whole game of the bull-ring is, on the part of the chulos, picadores, and matadores, a shameful exhibition not only of the most disgraceful cruelty but also of consummate cowardice.

Black is the almost universal color worn by ladies and gentlemen in public. Parisian fashions as to cut and material are very generally adopted; and, as has been intimated, the French model is paramount in all things. A business resident remarked to us that the French language was becoming so universal that it absolutely threatened to supersede the native tongue. Bonnets are worn in walking and driving; but at the bull-fight, the concert-room, and the theatre the national lace head-dress is still tenaciously and becomingly adhered to. In manners the better cla.s.s of Spaniards are extremely courteous, and always profuse in their offers of services, though it is hardly to be expected that their generosity will be put to the test. Gentlemen will smoke in the ladies' faces in the street, the corridors, cafes, cars, anywhere, apparently not being able to comprehend that it may be offensive. Even in the dining-rooms of the hotels, the cigar or cigarette is freely lighted, and smoked with the coffee while ladies are present. In short, tobacco seems to be a necessity to the average Spaniard, both sleeping and waking, for they smoke in bed also. Perhaps this apparent obtuseness on the part of gentlemen arises from the well-known fact that many of the ladies themselves indulge in the cigarette, though rarely in public.

The writer has more than once seen the practice as exhibited in popular cafes whither both s.e.xes resorted. At the bull-ring many of the common cla.s.s of women had cigarettes between their lips.

Sunday is an acknowledged gala-day in Madrid, though the attendance upon early ma.s.s is very general, especially among the women. It is here, as at Paris and other European capitals, the chosen day for military parades, horse-races, and the bull-fight. Most of the shops are open and realize a profitable business, and especially is this the case with those devoted to the sale of cigars, liquors, fancy goods, and the cafes: with them it is the busiest day of the whole week. The lottery ticket vendor makes a double day's work on this occasion, and the itinerant gamblers, with portable stands, have crowds about their tables wherever they locate. The flower-girls, with dainty little baskets, rich in color and captivating in fragrance, press b.u.t.tonhole bouquets on the pedestrians, and, shall we whisper it? make appointments with susceptible cavaliers; while men perambulate the streets with bon-bons displayed upon cases hung from their necks; in short, Sunday is made a fete day, when grandees and beggars complacently come forth like marching regiments into the Puerto del Sol. The Prado and public gardens are thronged with gayly-dressed people, children, and nurses,--the costume of the latter got up in the most theatrical style, with broad red or blue ribbons hanging down behind from their snow-white caps, and sweeping the very ground at their heels. No one stays within doors on Sunday in Madrid, and all Europe loves the out-door sunshine.

We have said that the Spanish capital was deficient in buildings of architectural pretension. This is quite true; but the country is rich in the character of her monuments, possessing one order of architecture elsewhere little known. Our guide called it very appropriately the Morisco style, which has grown out of the combination of Moorish and Christian art. The former attained, during the Middle Ages, as great importance in Spain as in the East. This is, perhaps, more clearly manifested in Andalusia than elsewhere; here its harmony is presented in many brilliant examples and combinations. The greatest wealth of the country is to be found in its historic monuments, its well-defined Roman period being especially rich in architectural remains; and, as to cathedrals, nowhere else are they to be found so richly and superbly endowed.

The cars took us to Toledo, a distance of about forty miles, in an hour and a half, landing us in a strange, old place, the very embodiment of antiquity, and the capital of Gothic Spain. Here let us drop a hint gained by experience. If the reader makes the excursion to Toledo from Madrid, he will most probably start early in the morning and get back late at night, as one day in the place will afford all the time absolutely necessary to visit and enjoy its most notable objects. A prepared luncheon basket should be taken from Madrid. This will obviate the necessity of encountering the dirt, unsavory food, and extortion of the fifth-rate hotels of Toledo. It has been said that banditti have been suppressed in Spain; perhaps so, on the public roads. It may be they have gone into the hotel business, as a safer and less conspicuous mode of robbing travelers. At Toledo the rule of the Moor is seen in foot-prints no time can obliterate, and to visit which is like the realization of a mediaeval dream. The sombre streets are strangely winding, irregular, and steep; the reason for constructing them thus was, doubtless, that they might be the more easily defended when attacked by a foreign enemy. In the days of her prime, Toledo saw many battles, both inside and outside of her gates. One can touch the houses of these streets on both sides at the same time, by merely extending the arms.

There are scores of deserted buildings locked up, the heavy gates studded with great, protruding, iron-headed nails, while the lower windows are closely iron-grated. These houses have paved entrances, leading to open areas, or courts, with galleries around them, upon which the various rooms open. The galleries are of carved and latticed wood, generally in good preservation, but the main structure is of stone, most substantially built, everything testifying to their Moorish origin. Some of these houses, once palaces, are now used for storage purposes; some for business warehouses, manufactories, and carpenters' shops. One would suppose, in such a dull, sleepy, dormant place, that the streets would be gra.s.s-grown; but there is no gra.s.s. Yet between the loosely-fitting slabs of stone pavement, here and there, little fresh flowers, of some unknown species, struggled up into a pale, fragile existence, with stems white in place of green, showing the absence of sunlight, so necessary to both human and vegetable life. They had no fragrance, these stray children from Flora's kingdom, but looked very much like forget-me-nots, reminding one of the little flower which sprung up through the hard pavement of Picciola's prison. Dilapidation is written everywhere in this Oriental atmosphere. The Moors of Morocco still believe that they will yet be restored to the Spanish home of their ancestors, and the keys of these Toledo houses have been handed down from generation to generation as emblems of their rights, tokens which were pointed out to us at Tangier; but not, until we had visited Toledo, was the idea which they involved fully appreciated. One cannot but realize a certain respect for the Moors, while wandering among these scenes of the long-buried past. Whatever may have been their failings, they must have contrasted favorably with the present occupants, who seem strangely out of place. In those ancient days the city contained a quarter of a million of inhabitants; to-day it has barely fifteen thousand. The river Tagus almost surrounds Toledo, and is not, like the Manzanares, merely a dry ditch, but a full, rapid, rushing river.

The cathedral at Toledo is its most prominent object of interest, and has a deservedly high fame; while cl.u.s.tering about it, in the very heart of the old place, are many churches, convents, and palaces,--though a large share of them are untenanted, and as silent as the tomb. But before entering the cathedral we visited the Alcazar, formerly a royal palace of Charles V., and now the West Point of Spain, where her sons are educated for the army. Under the Moors, ten centuries ago, it was a fortress, then a palace, now an academy, capable of accommodating six hundred pupils. The view from the Alcazar, which dominates the entire city, is vast and impressive, the building itself being also the first object seen from a distance when one is approaching Toledo. It is upon a bleak height. As you come out of the broad portals of the Alcazar (Al-casa-zar, the czar's house), you walk to the edge of the precipitous rock upon which it stands, and contemplate the view across the far-reaching plain, gloomy and desolate, while at the base of the rock rushes past the rapid Tagus. This whole valley, now so dead and silent, once teemed with a dense population, and sent forth armies, and fought great battles, in the days of the Goths. The cathedral is visited by architects from all parts of Europe and America, solely as a professional study. It is a remarkably fine sample of the Gothic order, which Coleridge called petrified religion, and exhibits in all its parts that great achievement of the art, entire harmony of design and execution; while the richness of its ornamentation and its artistic wealth, not to mention, in detail, its gold and silver plate, make it the rival of most other cathedrals in the world, with the possible exception of that at Burgos. Its size is vast, with a tower reaching three hundred feet heavenward, and the interior having five great naves, divided by over eighty lofty columns. It is said to contain more stained-gla.s.s windows than any other cathedral that was ever built. The effect of the clear morning light, as imparted to the interior through this great surface of delicately-tinted gla.s.s, is remarkably beautiful.

The high altar, a marvel of splendid workmanship and minute detail, is yet a little confusing, from the myriads of statues, groups, emblems, columns, gilding, and ornaments generally; but it seems to be the purpose of most of these Roman Catholic churches to turn the altars into a species of museum. Guides are always plentifully supplied with marvelous legends for travelers; and ours, on this occasion, simply bristled all over with them as regarded this church. One of these, which he persisted in pouring into our unbelieving ears, was to the effect that, when the cathedral was completed and dedicated, so perfect was it found to be that the Virgin descended bodily to visit it, and to express, by her presence, her entire satisfaction!

Toledo stands there upon the boldest promontory of the Tagus,--a dead and virtually deserted city. Coveted by various conquerors, she has been besieged more than twenty times; so that the river beneath the walls has often flowed red with human gore, where it is spanned by the graceful bridge of Alcantara. Phoenicians, Romans, Goths, Moors, and Christians, all have fought for and have possessed, for a greater or less period, the castle-crowned city. Its story is written in letters scarlet with blood and dark with misery; ill.u.s.trating Irving's idea that history is but a kind of Newgate calendar, a register of the crimes and miseries that man has inflicted on his fellow-man. Only the skeleton of a once great and thriving capital remains. It has no commerce and but one industry,--the manufacture of arms and sword-blades,--which gives occupation to a couple of hundred souls, hardly more. The coming and going of visitors from other lands gives it a little flutter of daily life, like a fitful candle blazing up for a moment and then dying down in the socket, making darkness only the more visible by contrast. The once celebrated sword factory was found to be of little interest, though we were told that better blades are manufactured here to-day than in olden time, when it won such repute in this special line. So well are these blades tempered, that it is possible to bend them like a watch spring without breaking them. In looking at the present condition of this once famous seat of industry and power, recalling her arts, manufactures, and commerce, it must be remembered that outside of the immediate walls, which form the citadel, as it were, of a large and extended population, were over forty thriving towns and villages, located in the valley of the Tagus, under the shadow of her wing. These communities and their homes have all disappeared,--pastures and fields of grain covering their dust from the eyes of the curious traveler. The narrow, silent, doleful streets of the old city, with its overhanging roofs and yawning arches, leave a sad memory on the brain, as we turn away from its crumbling walls and antique Moorish gates.

An excursion of thirty-five miles, to a station of the same name, took us from Madrid to the Escurial, which the Spaniards in their egotism call the eighth wonder of the world. This vast pile of buildings, composed entirely of granite, and as uniform as a military barrack, is nearly a mile in circ.u.mference,--tomb, palace, cathedral, monastery, one and all combined. The wilderness selected as the site of the structure shows about as little reason as does that of the locality of Madrid; utter barrenness and want of human or vegetable life are its most prominent characteristics. Here, however, are congregated a vast number of curious and interesting objects, while the place is redolent of vivid historical a.s.sociations. One of the first objects shown us here was the tomb of Mercedes, the child-wife of the present king; also, in a deep octagonal vault, the sepulchres of some thirty royal individuals, kings and mothers of kings. Among them were Philip II., Philip V., Ferdinand VI., Charles V., etc. The niche occupied by Philip IV. attracted special notice from the fact that the eccentric monarch, during his life-time, often seated himself here to listen to ma.s.s, an idea more singular than reverential. The coffin of Charles V. was opened so late as 1871, during the visit of the Emperor of Brazil, when the face of the corpse was found to be entire,--eyebrows, hair, and all, though black and shriveled. The last burial here was that of Ferdinand VII. This octagon vault is called the Pantheon of the Escurial; but it is nothing more than a theatrical show room: nothing could be more inappropriate. While we were in Madrid, ex-queen Isabella visited the vault,--her own last resting-place being already designated herein,--and caused ma.s.s to be performed while she kneeled among the coffins, as Philip IV. was accustomed to do. She does this once a year, at the hour of midnight, but why that period is chosen we do not know.

A room adjoining the church, close beside the altar, is shown to the visitor, where that prince of bigots, Philip II., pa.s.sed the last days and hours of his life. It is a scantily furnished apartment, with no upholstery, hard chairs, and bare wooden tables; with a globe, scales, compa.s.ses, and a few rude domestic articles, writing material, half a dozen maps, and three or four small cabinet pictures on the walls, forming the entire inventory. A large chair in which he sat, and the coa.r.s.e hard bed on which he slept and died, are also seen in a little adjoining room scarcely ten feet square. It was here that he received with such apparent indifference the intelligence of the destruction of the Spanish Armada, which had cost over a hundred million ducats and twenty years of useless labor. Everything is left as it was at the time of his death. A sliding panel was so arranged in the little sleeping-room that the king could sit or lie there, when too ill to do otherwise, and yet attend upon the performance of public ma.s.s. With this door put aside, the king lay here on that September Sabbath day, in the year of our Lord, 1598,--after having just ordered a white satin lining for his bronze coffin,--grasping the crucifix which his father, Charles V., held when dying, and with eyes fixed upon the high altar, attended by his confessor and children, the worn-out monarch breathed his last.

Little as we sympathized with the character of the royal occupant, there was yet something touching in the stern simplicity with which he surrounded his own domestic life. Self-abnegation must have been with him a ruling principle. The cell of a Franciscan monk could not have been more severely simple and plain than that small living and sleeping apartment.

A few statistics, as rattled off by our guide, will give the reader some idea of the vastness of the Escurial. There are sixteen open courts within its outer walls, eighty staircases, twelve thousand doors (?), and some three thousand windows. There are over forty altars. The main church is as large as most European cathedrals, being three hundred feet long, over two hundred wide, and three hundred and twenty feet high. We know of no cathedral in Italy so elaborately and beautifully finished, and yet this was only a part of the princely household of Philip II. The Escurial is now only a show place, so to speak, of no present use except as a historical link and a tomb. There are a few, very few, fine paintings left within its walls, most of those which originally hung here having been very properly removed to the Museo at Madrid. In the refectory will be noticed a choice painting by t.i.tian, of which we are a little surprised that no more has been said, for it is a remarkable painting. On the same wall are two or three canvases by Velasquez, but none by other artists of repute. On the walls of a large hall, called by the guide the Hall of Battles, is painted a most crude and inartistic series of pictures, only worthy of a Chinese artist, representing a series of battles supposed to depict Spanish conquests.

We were also shown, preserved here, a large and useless library, kept in a n.o.ble hall over two hundred feet long and fifty or sixty wide, the books being all arranged with their backs to the wall, so that even the t.i.tles cannot be read,--a plan which one would say must be the device of some madman. The bookcases are made of ebony, cedar, orange, and other choice woods, and contain some sixty thousand volumes. What possible historic wealth may here lie concealed,--what n.o.ble thoughts and minds embalmed! In the domestic or dwelling portion of the Escurial the apartments are very finely inlaid with various woods on the doors, dado, and on the floors; besides which they contain some delicate antique furniture of great beauty, finished mostly in various patterns of inlaid woods. A few cabinet pictures are seen upon the walls, and one or two large hall-like apartments are hung with tapestry, which, although centuries old, is perfect in texture and the freshness of the colors. It might have come from the Gobelins' factory during this present year of our Lord, and it could not be brighter or more perfect.

The grounds surrounding the structure are laid out, on the south side, in pleasant gardens, where fountains, flowers, and a few inferior marble statues serve for external finish. On the outside, high up above the dome, is seen the famous plate of gold, an inch thick, containing some ten square feet of surface, and forming a monument of the bravado and extravagance of Philip II., who put it there in reply to the a.s.sertion of his enemies that he had financially ruined himself in building so costly a palace. We may expect one of these days to hear of its having been taken down and coined into shining doubloons.

CHAPTER XIII.

From Madrid to Burgos.--Through a Barren Country.--The Cathedral of Burgos.--Monastery of Miraflores.--Local Pictures.--A Spanish Inn.--Convent of Las Huelgas.--From Burgos to San Sebastian.--Northern Spain.--A Spanish Watering Place.--Bayonne.--Lower Pyrenees.--Biarritz.--A Basque Postilion.--A Pleasant Drive.--On Leaving Spain.--Sunday and Balloons at Bordeaux.--On to Paris.--Antwerp and its Art Treasures.--Embarking for America.--End of the Long Journey.

From Madrid northward to Burgos is a little less than two hundred miles, yet a whole day was consumed in the transit by rail. The general aspect of the country was that of undulating plains, barren and arid, without trees, houses, or signs of animal life, sometimes for long and weary distances. Now and then a small herd of goats, and here and there a hut, or a group of miserable hovels, worthy of India, came into view, followed by a hilly, half-mountainous district, but yet solitary as a desert. Regarding natural beauty of scenery, Spain, as a whole, offers less attraction than any other European country. Its vegetation, except in the southern provinces, is of the sterile cla.s.s; its trees, spa.r.s.e, of poor development, and circ.u.mscribed in variety. Even the gra.s.s is stunted and yellow. Such a condition of vegetable life accounts for the absence of singing-birds, or, indeed, of any birds at all, in whole districts of the country. The traveler must be content with historical monuments, which are numerous and striking, and with the strange records attached to many of them. Antiquity consecrates many things which in their prime must have been intolerable. The sight of old sleepy cities, ancient churches, cathedrals, and deserted convents, must often compensate for an indifferent supper and a hard bed.

Since the days of Ferdinand and Isabella, Spain has emulated China in her stand-still policy. Perhaps these facts are very generally realized, and hence so few people, comparatively, visit the country, but it is a serious mistake for those who can afford the time and money not to do so. There is quite enough legitimate attraction to repay any intelligent person for all the annoyances and trouble which are necessarily encountered. It was past midnight when we arrived at the railroad station at Burgos, where, having telegraphed from Madrid, a very dirty omnibus was in waiting to take us to the hotel. How that vehicle did smell of garlic, stale tobacco, and acc.u.mulated filth, to which the odor of an ill-trimmed kerosene lamp added its pungent flavor. But we were soon set down before the hotel, where there was not a light to be seen, every one, servants and all, being sound asleep. An entrance being finally achieved, the baggage was pa.s.sed in, and rooms a.s.signed to us.

As hunger is the best sauce for supper, so fatigue makes even indifferent lodgings acceptable; and we were soon half-dreaming of the familiar legends and history of Burgos,--how centuries ago a knight of Castile, Diego Porcelos, had a lovely daughter, named Sulla Bella, whom he gave as a bride to a German cavalier, and together they founded this place and fortified it. They called it Burg, a fortified place, hence Burgos. We thought of the Cid and his gallant war-horse, Baveica; of Edward I., of the richly endowed cathedral, and the old monastery where rest Juan II. and Isabella of Portugal, in their alabaster tomb. But gradually these visions faded, growing less and less distinct, until entire forgetfulness settled over our roving thoughts.

The first impression of Burgos upon the stranger is that of quaintness.

It is a damp, cold, dead-and-alive place, with but three monuments really worthy of note; namely, the unrivaled cathedral, its Cartujan monastery, and its convent of Huelgas; and yet there is a tinge of the Gotho-Castilian period about its musty old streets and archways scarcely equaled elsewhere in Spain, and which one would not like to have missed.

The most amusing experience possible, on arriving in such a place, is to start off in the early morning without any fixed purpose as to destination, and wander through unknown streets, lanes, and archways, coming out upon a broad square--the Plaza Mayor, for instance--containing a poor bronze statue of Charles III.; thence to another with a tall stone fountain in the centre, where a motley group of women and young girls are filling their jars with water; and again through a dull dark lane, coming upon the lofty gate of Santa Maria, erected by Charles V., and ornamented with statues of the Cid, Fernando Gonzales, and the Emperor; thence on once more to some other square, which proves to be full of busy groups of men, women, and donkeys, gathered about piles of produce. Ah! this is the vegetable market, always a favorite morning resort in every new locality. How animated are the eager sellers and buyers, expending marvelous force over transactions involving half a dozen onions or a few knock-kneed turnips.

What a study do their bright expressive faces afford, how gay the varied colors of dress and vegetation, how ringing the Babel of tongues, the braying of donkeys, the cackle of ducks and hens in their coops. All ways are new, and many local peculiarities strike the eye, until presently, by some instinct, one comes out again at the starting-point.

Our stopping place at Burgos was the Fonda de Rafaela, a hotel with a good name, but with regard to the food supplied to the guests the less said the better. There was one peculiarity of this Spanish inn which was too constantly present not to impress us, namely, the extraordinary character and variety of "smells," which were quite overpowering. The princ.i.p.al stench arose from bad drainage, besides which there was a universal mustiness. But one should not be too fastidious. Comfort is best promoted by avoiding a spirit of captiousness in traveling, not only in Spain, but upon life's entire journey. Opposite the Fonda de Rafaela was a long line of infantry barracks, and, consequently, we had plenty of the sort of music--fife and drum--which naturally accompanies military drill and company movements. There seems to be, not only here but all through the southern cities, an effort made to keep up the discipline and standard of the army, as well as its numbers; but it was observable that most of the private soldiers, especially in Madrid, were merely boys of sixteen or seventeen years of age. Burgos, like Cordova, is overrun with priests and beggars, who go as naturally together as cause and effect.

The cathedral, which the Emperor Charles V. said ought to be placed under a gla.s.s, would alone be sufficient to render the town famous, in spite of its dullness and desolation, being one of the largest, finest, and most richly endowed of all the Spanish churches. Neither that of Toledo or Granada will compare with it in splendor or elaborate finish; and when we remember how much Spain surpa.s.ses Italy, as regards her cathedrals, the force of this remark will be realized. The lofty structure, like that at Antwerp, is packed behind a cl.u.s.ter of inferior buildings, so as to seriously detract from its external effect; though on the opposite side of the river Arlanzon a favorable view is obtained of its graceful, open-worked spires, so light and symmetrical, "spires whose silent fingers point to heaven," and its lofty, corrugated roof.

The columns and high arches of the interior are a maze of architectural beauty, in pure Gothic. In all these Spanish cathedrals the choir completely blocks up the centre of the interior, so that no comprehensive general view can be had; an incongruous architectural arrangement which is found nowhere else, and which as nearly ruins the effect of the Toledo, Cordova, and Granada cathedrals as it is possible to do. Above the s.p.a.ce between the altar and the choir rises a cupola, which, in elaborate ornamentation of bas-reliefs, statues, small columns, arches, and sculpture, exceeds anything of the sort we can recall elsewhere. The hundred and more carved stalls of the choir are in choice walnut, and are a great curiosity as an example of wood-carving, presenting human figures, vines, fantastic animals, and foliage, exquisitely delineated. The several chapels are as large as ordinary churches, while in the centre of each lies buried a bishop or a prince.

The great number of statues and paintings, scattered through the interior of the cathedral, are almost as confusing as the pinnacled roof of that at Milan, whose beauty disappears amid acc.u.mulation, and one is liable to come away more wearied than satisfied. In the sacristy the attendant showed us many curious relics of great intrinsic value, but which were priceless, in his estimation, from their presumed a.s.sociations. The well-known carving of Christ on the Cross was shown to us, which devout believers are told was carved by Nicodemus just after he had buried the Saviour. The credulous sacristan, unless his face deceived us, believed that this effigy perspires every Friday; that it actually bleeds at certain times; and that it has performed miracles.

The beard and hair are the natural article, and so are the brows and eyelashes, giving a disagreeable effect to the image.

The monastery of Miraflores, a rich and prosperous establishment before the suppression of religious communities in Spain, is now quite deserted, but of considerable interest as containing the famous tomb of Juan II. and Isabella of Portugal. The old Gothic chapel has, in the singularly elaborate and minutely sculptured sarcophagus standing before the altar, a grand example of delicate and artistic workmanship in alabaster. The two representative figures are raised about six feet above the floor of the chapel, on a pedestal of the same substance,--pure white alabaster,--the whole being ornamented with figures of saints, angels, birds, fruits, and graceful vines. The supports of the corners of the octagon base are sixteen lions, two at each angle, all executed with infinite perfection of detail. The remarkable imitation of embroidered lace upon the reclining figures, with the indented cushions and robes, are admirable. We were glad to learn the sculptor's name, Gil de Siloe. Sad and solemn was the atmosphere surrounding the old monastery, now in charge of two or three aged brothers of the Carthusian order, who pointed out, as we pa.s.sed into the open air, among the rank weeds, shaded by sombre cypresses, the graves of some four hundred of their departed brothers, whose bodies lay there without a stone or name to mark their last resting-place. Thus these men had lived humble and forgotten, and so they sleep, "after life's fitful fever," among the weeds.

From this interesting spot we drove to the convent known as Las Huelgas, founded by the wife of Alonzo VIII., daughter of Henry II., and sister of Richard Coeur de Lion. This large establishment, situated on the other side of the Arlanzon, and nearer to the city than Miraflores, is reached by a pleasant avenue of trees, and is surrounded by well-laid out gardens. Though it is a nunnery, and has its body of completely isolated, self-immolated nuns, still there is not the dead and forgotten aspect about it which so characterized the old monastery we had just left. To gain entrance here, the devotee must bring with her a dowry, and also be born of n.o.ble blood. It was within these walls that Eugenie, after losing husband and son, at first contemplated a lasting seclusion; but she was not quite prepared, it seems, to give up the allurements of the outside world. The church attached to the convent is of more than ordinary interest, and contains some relics highly prized by the devout and credulous. The visitor, on being shown about the church, will be likely to observe an image of Christ in a petticoat, which is rather a caricature. The sacristan stopped us before a small grated opening, exhibiting the altar of the nunnery, where one of the devotees, in her nun's dress, was to be seen kneeling before the shrine, apparently engaged in prayer. Presently the kneeling figure rose slowly to her feet, walked across the dimly-lighted chapel, and disappeared. The exhibition was so timely, and the visitors to the church were brought to the spot in such a business-like fashion, to say nothing of the pose and manner of the nun, that one could not but feel that the little tableau was gotten up for the special effect it might have upon strangers.

In the small railroad depot of Burgos, while the slow purgatory of being served with tickets was endured, a traveler found fault in good Saxon English as to the stupidity of such delay about trifles, and also complained of having been robbed of some small article of luggage.

Another Englishman, particularly disposed to palliate matters, said there must be some mistake about it; he had been here before, and the people of Burgos were proverbially honest. By and by a great excitement was apparent on the platform, when it came to light that the apologist and indorser of the good people here was declaring that a leather strap had been purloined from his trunk, between the hotel and the depot, and the contents of his hat-box abstracted. What was to be done? The engine was screeching forth the starting signal with unwonted vigor, and there was no time to be lost. He who had spoken so favorably of the local population a few moments before, was now red in the face with anger and improper language. He had barely time to get into his seat before the train moved onward, and doubtless left his trust in humanity behind him with the stolen property. It was only an instance of misplaced confidence; and thus we bid farewell to the sleepy but picturesque old city.

From Burgos to San Sebastian, still northward, is a hundred and fifty miles by rail, but Spanish dispatch requires ten hours for the trip. It was a beautiful, soft, sunny day, full of the spirit and promise of early spring. The fruit trees were in blossom, the green fields strewn with wild flowers; flocks of grazing sheep were constantly in sight, and men and women busy with field labor, the red petticoats and white caps of the latter forming charming bits of color against the green background. Sparkling water-courses, with here and there a fall giving power to some rickety old stone mill, added variety to the shifting scenery. On the not far-off hills were veritable castles, border fortresses in ruins, whose gray, moss-covered towers had borne witness to the conflicts of armor-clad warriors in the days of Castilian knighthood and glory. What enchantment hangs about these rude battlements, "rich with the spoils of time!" In looking back upon the ancient days it is fortunate that the mellowing influence of time dims the vision, and we see down the long vista of years as through a softening twilight, else we should behold such harshness as would arouse more of ire than of admiration. The olden time, like the landscape, appears best in the purple distance.

The general aspect of the country, since we left Malaga in the extreme south, had been rather disappointing, and the rural appearance on this beautiful trip from Burgos to San Sebastian was therefore appreciated.

It should be called the garden of Spain, the well-watered plains and valleys being spread with carpets of exquisite verdure. In the far distance one could detect snow-clad mountains, which, in fact, were not out of sight during the entire trip. Thousands of acres were covered by the vine, already well advanced, and from the product of which comes the sherry wine of commerce. The vineyards were interspersed with fields of ripening grain. Wheat and wine! Or, as the Spaniards say: "The staff of life and life itself." It was impossible not to feel a sense of elation at the delightful scenery and the genial atmosphere on this early April day. Nature seemed to be in her merriest mood, clothing everything in poetical attire, rendering beautiful the little gray hamlets on the hill-sides, dominated by square bell-towers, about which the red-tiled cottages cl.u.s.tered. Outside of these were family groups sitting in the warm sunshine, some sewing, some spinning, while children tumbled and played in the inviting gra.s.s. We had seen nothing like this for many a day--certainly not in Spain. Presently we came up to the lofty snow-capped mountains, which had for a while ranged just ahead of us, when one of them seemed suddenly to open a wide mouth at its base as if to swallow the train. In it rushed puffing and snorting through a dark tunnel nearly a mile long, until at last we emerged on the opposite side of the mountain into a scene of great beauty, overlooking a valley worthy of j.a.pan. Far up towards the blue sky was the snow under which we had been hidden in the darkness of the tunnel, while in this lower range we were surrounded with verdure and bloom. Here were graceful trees, smiling bits of landscape, flocks of sheep, tumbling cascades, so grouped and mingled as to seem like a theatrical effect rather than nature.

We came into San Sebastian in the early twilight; a somewhat famous watering-place on the boisterous Bay of Biscay, drawing its patronage largely from Madrid, though of late both English and Americans have resorted thither. It is a small city, but the thriftiest and most business-like to be found in Spain when its size is considered. The place was entirely destroyed by fire when captured from the French by the English,--a piece of sanguinary work which cost the latter five thousand men. It was on this occasion that Wellington is reported to have said: "The next dreadful thing to a battle lost is a battle won."

The dwellings are modern and handsome, the streets broad and well paved, the squares ornamented by shrubbery and fountains, and the drives in the environs and on the beach are very inviting. In short San Sebastian is a model watering-place for summer resort with several good hotels. It will be remembered that Wellington fought some severe battles in this vicinity in 1813. On the way from Burgos the battle-field of Vittoria was pointed out, where the French army was thoroughly routed. The Spanish government has made a miniature Gibraltar of San Sebastian.

Overlooking the harbor is a lofty fortification which commands the town and all of its approaches. From the fort, which costs a good climb to reach, a very fine view is obtained of a broad extent of country. Whole blocks of new buildings were in course of construction, and San Sebastian seemed to be preparing for a large summer business. Seen from a short distance, as one approaches in the cars, the grouping of the town, with the lofty and frowning fortification, its neat white dwellings and undulating surface, makes a pleasing picture, standing out in bold relief against the blue sky hanging over the Bay of Biscay.

Our next stopping-place after leaving San Sebastian was Bayonne,--that is "The Good Port,"--about forty miles further towards the French frontier. It is a city of some thirty thousand inhabitants, located at the junction of the Adour and Nive rivers, in the Lower Pyrenees. Here, again, the cathedral forms nearly the only attraction to strangers; though very plain, and with little architectural pretension, still it is gray, old, and crumbling, plainly telling the story of its age. The city has considerable commerce by the river, both in steam and sailing vessels, and exports a very respectable amount of domestic products.

Most continental cities have their Jews' quarter,--the Ghetto, as it is called; but in Bayonne the race is especially represented by the descendants of those who escaped death at the hands of the Inquisition, in the time of Philip II. They form fully one third of the population, judging from appearances; and though not characterized by neatness or cleanliness, their quarter is the home of numerous rich men. They have retained their old Spanish and Portuguese names and fortunes. Many of the Jewish capitalists of London, Paris, and Havre, are from Bayonne.

There is a decided difference in the manners and the dress of the people from those of Spain generally, being more like those of the Basque Provinces, to which it belongs geographically.

Here one sees the palace where Catherine de Medici and the Duke of Alba planned the terrible ma.s.sacre of the Huguenots. In and about the city some very pleasant drives may be enjoyed. A large, well-shaded public garden commences just at the city gates and extends along the left bank of the Adour. It will occur to the reader that the familiar military weapon, the bayonet, got its name from Bayonne, having been invented, or rather discovered, here. It seems that a Basque regiment, during an engagement with the Spaniards near this spot, had entirely exhausted their ammunition; but fixing their long knives in the muzzles of their guns, they thus successfully charged on and defeated the enemy. The legend is mentioned, as every one must listen to it from the local guides, though--between ourselves--it is a most gross anachronism.

We have not yet come to a conclusion as to what language our landlord spoke. He certainly understood French, though he did not attempt to express himself in it. It was not Spanish, that we know; therefore it must have been Basque, the language which Noah received from Adam, if we are to believe the residents of Bayonne. An out-door fair was visited, upon an open square lying between the hotel and the harbor, where the gay colors, shooting-booths, hurdy-gurdies, drums, fifes, flags, and games, together with a wax exhibition, representing a terrible murder and an a.s.sa.s.sin committing the deed with a poker painted red hot, all served to remind us of a similar occasion at Tokio, in far-off j.a.pan.

Striking scenic effects came in here and there, the distant summits of the Pyrenees being visible beyond the mountains of Navarre.

A drive of five miles from Bayonne took us to Biarritz, situated a little southwest of the old city, at the lower part of the Bay of Biscay, being the Newport of southern France. Our postilion was gotten up after the Basque fashion of his tribe, in a most fantastic short jacket of scarlet, with little abbreviated tails, silver laced all over, and with a marvelous complement of hanging b.u.t.tons. He wore a stove-pipe hat with a flashing c.o.c.kade, and flourished a long whip that would have answered for a Kaffir cattle-driver. The horses--large fine specimens of the Norman breed--were harnessed three abreast, and decorated with many bells, while their headstalls were heavy with scarlet woolen ta.s.sels, and ornamented with large silver-plated buckles.

The vehicle was a roomy, old-fashioned barouche, comfortable, but about as ancient as the cathedral. Altogether we looked with such unfeigned amazement at the landlord, when this queer outfit drove to the door, that he, native and to the manner born, could not suppress a broad smile. It answered our purpose, however, and as the populace was evidently accustomed to such florid display, we did not antic.i.p.ate being mobbed; but during the entire trip that harlequin of a driver, who was as sober as a mute at a funeral, shared our admiration with the pleasing and varied scenery. He was a thorough native. It would have been of no use to attempt to talk with him, for the foreigner who can speak the Basque tongue has yet to be discovered.

Biarritz, which is in the department of the Ba.s.ses-Pyrenees, yet a long way from the mountain range, was unknown to fame until Eugenie, empress of the French, built a grand villa here, and made it her summer resort; being, however, over five hundred miles from the French capital, it never became very popular with the Parisians. The emperor and empress resorted thither annually, and, laying aside the dignity of state, were seen daily indulging in sea-bathing. The building of the Villa Eugenie made the fortune of Biarritz. The climate is particularly dry and warm, proving, if we may believe common report, excellent for invalids. The hot days of summer are tempered by a sea-breeze, which blows with great regularity inland during the day. The town is elevated, being seated upon a bluff of the coast, and has two small bays strewn with curiously honey-combed rocks, worn into the oddest of shapes by the fierce beating of the surf for ages. Art has aided nature in the grotesque arrangement of these rocks, so as to form arches and caves of all conceivable shapes. It must present a splendid sight here in a stormy day, when the surf breaks over the huge rocks and rushes wildly through these cavernous pa.s.sages. Such a battle between the sea and the sh.o.r.e would be grand to witness. The beach shelves gently, and is firm and smooth, so that it is particularly well adapted for bathing.

Biarritz being in nearly the same lat.i.tude as Nice and Mentone, one looks for similar foliage and vegetation, but there are no palms, aloes, oranges, or trees of that cla.s.s here. The place lacks the shelter of the Maritime Alps, which the two resorts just mentioned enjoy; but bright, sunny Biarritz will long live in the memory of the little party whom the Basque postilion drove thither and back. The late imperial residence, the Villa Eugenie, is now improved as a fashionable summer hotel. The drive from Bayonne to Biarritz can be made by one road, and the return accomplished by another. On the way back we pa.s.sed through two or three miles of thick, sweet-scented pine forest, still and shady under the afternoon sun, except for the drowsy hum of insects, and the pleasant carol of birds. Here and there were open glades where the sun lay upon little beds of blue flowers of unknown name, but very like the gentian; and there were also the wild daphne and scarlet anemones. The lofty trees located on both sides of the road had been tapped for their sap, and little wooden spouts were conducting the glutinous deposit into small earthen jars hung on the perpendicular trunks,--reminding one of the mode of "milking" the toddy palms in India and Ceylon, by which ingenious means the natives obtain, a liquor which, when fermented, is as strong as the best Scotch or Irish whiskey.

Our journey through Spain proved to be one of great and lasting interest, although it was mingled with a sense of disappointment, not as to its historic interest, nor its unrivaled monuments "mellowed by the stealing hours of time;" but we missed the bright sunny fields of France, we found none of the soft loveliness of the Italian climate or vegetation, and were ever contrasting its treeless surface with well-wooded Belgium and Switzerland. When gazing upon its stunted shrubbery and dry yellow gra.s.s, it was natural to recall the lovely valleys and plains of j.a.pan, and even the closely-cultivated fields of China, where every square foot of soil contiguous to populous districts is made to produce its quota towards the support of man. The pleasant oases to be found here and there, the exceptional bits of verdant fields and fertile districts which we have described, only prove what the country in the possession of an enterprising race might be made to produce. Now it is little more than a land of sun and blue skies. The Spanish people seem to be imbued with all the listlessness of those of the tropics, though not by the same enervating influence. Nature is willing to meet men more than half way, even in Spain, but will not pour out there her products with the lavishness which characterizes her in the low lat.i.tudes. The country is not composed of desolate sierras by any means, but its neglected possibilities are yet in such strong contrast to the most of continental Europe as to lead the tourist to very decided conclusions. The beautifully shaded avenue at Burgos along the Arlanzon, and the road to Miraflores forming a charming Alameda, show very plainly what can be done by planting a few hundred suitable trees to beautify the environs of a half-ruined, mouldering, mediaeval city. It is to be hoped that those who planted these luxuriant trees may have lived to enjoy their grace and beauty. Under Ferdinand and Isabella, Spain was a great and thriving nation, almost beyond precedent. Her colonial possessions rivaled those of the entire world; but her glory has vanished, and her decadence has been so rapid as to be phenomenal, until she is now so humbled there are very few to do her honor.

The distance from Bayonne to Bordeaux is one hundred and twenty-five miles, a dull and uninteresting journey, the route lying through what seemed an interminable pine forest, so that it was a decided relief when the spires of this French capital came into view. Bordeaux was found to be a much larger and finer city than we had realized. The topographical formation is that of a crescent along the sh.o.r.e of the Garonne, which here forms a broad and navigable harbor, though it is located some sixty miles from the sea. There were many Roman antiquities and ancient monuments to be seen, all interesting, venerable with the wear and tear of eighteen centuries. The public buildings, commanding in their architectural character, were found to be adorned with admirable sculpture and some fine paintings. The ancient part of the town has narrow and crooked streets, but the modern portion is open, airy, and has good architectural display. The Grand Theatre is remarkably effective with its n.o.ble Ionic columns, built a little more than a century since by Louis XVI. Bordeaux is connected by ca.n.a.l with the Mediterranean and has considerable commerce, especially in the importation of American whiskey, which is sent back to the United States and exported elsewhere as good Bordeaux brandy, after being carefully doctored. The Sabbath was pa.s.sed here, but its observance or non-observance is like that common in Continental cities. It is a mere day of recreation, the Roman Catholic element attending ma.s.s, and devoting the balance of the day to amus.e.m.e.nt. There were performances at all of the theatres, the stores and shops were generally open, and very large fine shops they are. In the afternoon two balloons were sent up from the Champ de Mars: one a mammoth in size, containing half a dozen persons; the other smaller, containing but one person to manage it--a lady. There were at least fifty thousand people in the great square to witness the ascension,--a very orderly and well-dressed throng. A military band played during the inflating process, and the promenaders and loungers presented a gay concourse.