and their misery, they seem to be conscious of the antiquity and
purity of their race, and ever to remember that it is free from
all alloy, for these gipsies never marry but among themselves, and
those children which are the offsprings of temporary unions are
unmercifully cast out of the tribe. One of the pretensions of the
_gitanos_ is that of being good Castilians and good Catholics,
but I think that, at bottom, they are, to some extent, Arabs and
Mahometans; they deny this fact to the best of their power, from a
remnant of fear for the Inquisition which no longer exists. A few
deserted and half-ruined streets of the Albaycin are also inhabited
by richer or less wandering gipsies. In one of these streets, we
perceived a little girl, about eight years old, and entirely naked,
dancing the _zorongo_ on a painted paving stone. Her sister, whose
features were wan and emaciated, and in whose citron-looking face
sparkled eyes of fire, was crouched beside her on the ground, with
a guitar, from the strings of which she drew forth a monotonous
tinkle by running her thumb over them, and producing music not
unsimilar to the husky squeak of the grasshopper. The mother, who
was richly dressed, and whose neck was loaded with glass beads,
beat time with the end of a blue velvet slipper, which she gazed on
with great complacency. The wild attitude, strange accoutrement,
and extraordinary colour of this group, would have made a subject
for the pencil of Collot, or of Salvator Rosa.

Monte Sagrado, which contains the grottoes of the martyrs who were
so miraculously discovered, offers nothing very interesting. It is
a convent with a rather ordinary-looking church, beneath which the
crypts are dug. These crypts have nothing about them capable of
producing any deep impression. They are composed of a complication
of small, straight, whitewashed corridors, from seven to eight
feet high. In recesses made for the purpose, altars, dressed with
more devotion than taste, have been raised. It is there that the
shrines and bones of the holy personages are locked up behind the
wire-work. I expected to see a subterraneous church, dark and
mysterious, nay, even dreadful-looking, with low pillars, and a
surbased roof, lighted by the uncertain reflection of a distant
lamp,--something, in fact, similar to the ancient catacombs, and
great was my surprise at the clean and tidy appearance of this
whitewashed crypt, lighted by ventholes like those of a cellar. We
somewhat superficial Catholics require something picturesque, in
order to get imbued with religious feeling. The devout man thinks
little about the effect of light and shade, or about the more or
less learned proportions of architecture; he knows, however, that,
beneath that altar of so mediocre a form, lie hidden the bones of
the saint who died for the sake of the faith which he professes,
and that suffices for him.

The Carthusian Convent, at present bereft of monks, like all other
convents in Spain, is an admirable edifice, and we cannot regret
too much that it has ever ceased to be used for its original
purpose. We have never been able to understand what harm could be
done by cenobites voluntarily cloistered in a prison, and passing
their lives in austerity and prayer, especially in a country like
Spain, where there is certainly no lack of ground.

You ascend by a double flight of steps to the doorway of the
church: it is surmounted by a white marble statue of St. Bruno,
of a rather handsome effect. The decorations of the church are
singular, and consist of plaster arabesques, truly wonderful by
the variety and richness of their subjects. It appears as if
the architect had been desirous of vying, in quite a different
style, with the lightness and complication of the lace-work of
the Alhambra. There is not a place as large as your hand, in this
immense structure, which is not filled with flowers, damask-work,
leaves, and guilloches: it would be enough to turn the head of any
one who wanted to take an exact sketch of it. The choir is lined
with porphyry and costly marble. A few mediocre pictures are hung
up here and there along the walls, and make you regret the space
they hide. The cemetery is near the church: according to the custom
of the Carthusian friars, no tomb, no cross, indicates the place
where the departed brothers sleep; but the cells surround the
cemetery, and each one is provided with a little garden. In a piece
of ground planted with trees, which, no doubt, formerly served
as a promenade for the friars, my attention was called to a kind
of fish-pond, with a sloping stone edge, in which were awkwardly
crawling three or four dozen tortoises, that basked in the sun
and appeared quite happy at being henceforth in no danger of the
cook's art. The laws of the Carthusian brethren forbade their ever
eating meat, and the tortoise is looked on as a fish by casuists.
These tortoises were destined to supply the friars' table. The
revolution, however, saved them.

While we are about visiting the convents, we will enter, if you
please, the Monastery of San Juan de Dios. The cloister is one of
the most curious imaginable, and is constructed with frightfully
bad taste; the walls, painted in fresco, represent various
fine actions of the life of San Juan de Dios, framed with such
grotesque and fantastic ornaments as throw into the shade the most
extravagant and deformed productions of Japan and China. You behold
sirens playing the violin, she-monkeys at their toilet, chimerical
fish in still more chimerical waves, flowers which look like
birds, birds which look like flowers, lozenges of looking-glass,
squares of earthenware, love-knots--in a word, an endless pell-mell
of all that is inextricable. The church, which is luckily of
another epoch, is gilt nearly all over. The altar-screen, which is
supported by pillars of the Solomonic order, produces a rich and
majestic effect. The sacristan, who served as our guide, on seeing
that we were French, questioned us about our country, and asked if
it were true, as was said at Granada, that Nicholas, the Emperor
of Russia, had invaded France and taken possession of Paris: such
was the latest news. These gross absurdities were spread among the
people by the partisans of Don Carlos, in order to obtain credence
for an absolutist reaction on the part of the European powers, and
to rally, by the hope of speedy assistance, the drooping courage of
the disorganized bands.

I saw in this church a sight that made a deep impression on me;
it was an old woman crawling on her knees from the door to the
altar: her arms were stretched out as stiff as stakes, in the form
of a cross, her head was thrown back, her upturned eyes allowed
the whites only of them to be seen, her lips were firmly closed,
and her face was shiny and of the colour of lead: this was ecstasy
turned to catalepsy. Never did Zurbaban execute anything more
ascetic or possessing more feverish ardour. She was accomplishing a
penance ordered by her confessor, and had still four more days of
it to undergo.

The Convent of San Geronimo, now transformed into barracks,
contains a Gothic cloister with two arteries of arcades of rare
character and beauty. The capitals of the columns are ornamented
with foliage and fantastic animals of the most capricious nature
and charming workmanship. The church, at present profaned and
deserted, exhibits the peculiarity of having all its ornaments and
architectural reliefs painted in imitation on grey grounds, like
the roof of the Bourse, instead of being executed in reality: here
lies interred Gonzalvo of Cordova, surnamed the great captain. His
sword used to be preserved there, but it was lately taken away and
sold for a few _duras_, the value of the silver which ornamented
the handle. It is thus that many objects, valuable as works of art
or from associations, have disappeared without any other profit
to the thieves than the pleasure of doing wrong. It appears to
us that our revolution might be imitated in something else but
its stupid Vandalism. It is this sentiment we all experience on
visiting a tenantless convent, on beholding so many ruins and such
devastation, the utter loss of so many _chefs d'œuvre_ of every
kind, and the long work of centuries destroyed and swept away
in an instant. No one has the power to prejudge the future: I,
however, doubt if it will restore what the past had bequeathed us,
and which we destroy as if we possessed wherewithal to replace it.
In addition to this something might be put _on one side_, for the
globe is not so covered with monuments that it is necessary for
us to raise new buildings on the ruins of the old ones. With such
reflections was my mind filled, as I wandered, in the Antequerula,
through the old convent of San Domingo. The chapel was decorated
with a profusion of all sorts of gewgaws, baubles, and gilding. It
was one mass of wreathed columns, volutes, scroll-work, encrusted
work of various coloured breccia, glass mosaics, checker-work of
mother-of-pearl, and burgau, bevilled mirrors, suns surrounded by
rays, transparencies, and all the most preposterous, misshapen,
ugly, and strange embellishments that the depraved taste of the
eighteenth century and the horror of straight lines could invent.
The library, which has been preserved, is almost exclusively
composed of folios and quartos bound in white vellum, with the
titles written on them in black or red ink. They consist, for the
most part, of theological treatises, casuistical dissertations, and
other scholastic productions, possessing but little attraction for
the mere literary man. A collection of pictures has been formed
at the convent of San Domingo, composed of works from the various
monasteries that were either abolished or suffered to go to ruin,
but, with the exception of some few fine heads of ascetics, and a
few representations of martyrs which seem to have been painted by
the hangman himself, from the proficiency in the art of torturing
which they exhibit, there is nothing remarkably good, which proves
that the persons who were guilty of these acts of pillage are
excellent judges of paintings, for they never fail to keep the best
things for themselves. The courtyards and cloisters are admirable,
and are adorned with fountains, orange-trees, and flowers.

How excellently are such places adapted for reverie, meditation,
and study, and what a pity is it that convents were ever inhabited
by monks, and not by poets! The gardens, left to themselves, have
assumed a wild, savage aspect; luxuriant vegetation has invaded
the walks, and Nature has regained possession of her own, planting
a tuft of flowers or grass in the place of every stone that has
fallen out. The most remarkable feature in these gardens is an
alley of enormous laurels, forming a covered walk which is paved
with white marble, and furnished, on each side, with a long seat
of the same material, with a slanting back. At certain distances
from each other, a number of small fountains maintain a refreshing
coolness beneath this thick vault of verdure, at the end of which
you have a splendid view of a portion of the Sierra Nevada, through
a charming Moorish mirador, which forms part of an old Arabic
palace, enclosed in the convent. This pavilion is said to have
communicated, by means of long subterranean galleries, with the
Alhambra, which is situated at some considerable distance. However,
this is an idea deeply rooted in the minds of the inhabitants of
Granada, where the least Moorish ruin is always presented with five
or six leagues of subterranean passages as well as a treasure,
guarded by some spell or other.

We often went to San Domingo to sit beneath the shade of the
laurels and bathe in a pool, near which, if the satirical songs
are to be believed, the monks used to lead no very reputable sort
of life. It is a remarkable fact, that the most Catholic countries
are always those in which the priests and monks are treated most
cavalierly; the Spanish songs and stories about the clergy rival,
in licence, the facetiæ of Rabelais and Beroalde de Verville, and
to judge by the manner in which all the ceremonies of the church
are parodied in the old pieces, one would hardly think that the
Inquisition had ever existed.

Talking of baths, I will here relate a little incident which proves
that the thermal art, carried to so high a degree of perfection
by the Arabs, has lost much of its former splendour in Granada.
Our guide took us to some baths that appeared very well managed,
the rooms being situated round a patio shaded by a covering of
vine-leaves, while a large reservoir of very limpid water occupied
the greater part of the patio. So far all was well; but of what do
you think the baths themselves were made? Of copper, zinc, stone,
or wood? Not a bit of it, you are wrong; I will tell you at once,
for you will never guess. They were enormous clay jars, like those
made to hold oil. These novel baths were about two-thirds buried
in the ground. Before potting ourselves in them we had the inside
covered with a clean cloth, a piece of precaution which struck the
attendant as something so extremely strange, and which astonished
him so profoundly, that we were obliged to repeat the order several
times before he would obey it. He explained this whim of ours to
his own satisfaction by shrugging his shoulders and shaking his
head in a commiserative manner as he pronounced in a low voice the
one word: _Ingleses!_ There we sat, squatted down in our oil jars,
with our heads stuck out at the top, something like pheasants _en
terrine_, cutting rather grotesque figures. It was on this occasion
that I understood for the first time the story of _Ali Baba and
the Forty Thieves_, which had always struck me as being rather
difficult to believe, and had made me for an instant doubt the
veracity of the "Thousand-and-One Nights."

There are, also, in the Albaycin, some old Moorish baths, and a
pond covered over with a vaulted roof, pierced by a number of
little holes in the shape of stars, but they are not in working
order, and you can get nothing but cold water.

This is about all that is to be seen at Granada, during a stay of
some weeks. Public amusements are scarce. The theatre is closed
during the summer; the bull-fights do not take place at any fixed
periods; there are no clubs or establishments of this description,
and the Lyceum is the only place where it is possible to see the
French and other foreign papers. On certain days, there is a
meeting of the members, when they read papers on various subjects
as well as poetry, besides singing and playing pieces, generally
written by some young author of the company.

Every one employs his time, most conscientiously, in doing nothing.
Gallantry, cigarettes, the manufacture of quatrains and octaves,
and especially card-playing, are found sufficient to fill up a
man's existence very agreeably. In Granada you see nothing of that
furious restlessness, that necessity for action and change of
place which torments the people of the north. The Spanish struck
me as being very philosophical. They attach hardly any importance
to material life, and are totally indifferent about comfort. The
thousand factitious wants created by the civilization of northern
countries, appear to them puerile and troublesome refinements.
Not having to protect themselves continually against the climate,
the advantages of the English _home_ have no attractions in their
eyes. What do people, who would cheerfully pay for a breeze or a
draught of air, if they could obtain such a thing, care whether
or not the windows close properly? Favoured by a beautiful sky,
they have reduced human existence to its simplest expression: this
sobriety and moderation in everything enables them to enjoy a large
amount of liberty, a state of extreme independence; they have time
enough to live, which we cannot say that we have. Spaniards cannot
understand how a man can labour first in order to rest afterwards.
They very much prefer pursuing an opposite course, and I think that
by so doing, they show their superior sense. A workman who has
gained a few reals leaves his work, throws his fine embroidered
jacket over his shoulders, takes his guitar and goes and dances
or makes love to the _majas_ of his acquaintance, until he has
not a single _cuarto_ left; he then returns to his employment.
An Andalusian can live splendidly for three or four sous a day;
for this sum he can have the whitest bread, an enormous slice of
water-melon, and a small glass of aniseed, while his lodging costs
him nothing more than the trouble of spreading his cloak upon
the ground under some portico or the arch of some bridge. As a
general rule, Spaniards consider work as something humiliating and
unworthy of a freeman, which, in my opinion, is a very natural and
very reasonable idea, since Heaven wishing to punish man for his
disobedience, found no greater infliction than the obliging him to
gain his daily bread by the sweat of his brow. Pleasures procured,
as ours are, by dint of labour, fatigue, and mental anxiety and
perseverance strike Spaniards as being bought much too dearly. Like
all people who lead a simple life approaching a state of nature,
they possess a correctness of judgment which makes them despise
the artificial enjoyments of society. Any one coming from Paris or
London, those two whirlpools of devouring activity, of feverish
and unnaturally excited energy, is greatly surprised by the mode
of life of the people of Granada,--a mode of life that is all
leisure, filled up with conversation, siestas, promenades, music,
and dancing. The stranger is astonished at the happy calmness, the
tranquil dignity of the faces he sees around him. No one has that
busy look which is noticeable in the persons hurrying through the
streets of Paris. Every one strolls leisurely along, choosing the
shady side of the street, stopping to chat with his friends, and
betraying no desire to arrive at his destination in the shortest
possible time. The certitude of not being able to make money
extinguishes all ambition: there is no chance of a young man making
a brilliant career. The most adventurous among them go to Manilla
or Havannah, or enter the army, but on account of the piteous state
of the public finances, they sometimes wait for years without
hearing anything about pay. Convinced of the inutility of exertion,
Spaniards do not endeavour to make fortunes, for they know that
such things are quite out of the question; and they therefore pass
their time in a delightful state of idleness, favoured by the
beauty of the country and the heat of the climate.

I saw nothing of Spanish pride; nothing is so deceptive as the
reputation bestowed on individuals and nations. On the contrary,
I found them exceedingly simple-minded and good-natured; Spain
is the true country of equality, if not in words at least in
deeds. The poorest beggar lights his _papelito_ at the _puro_ of a
powerful nobleman, who allows him to do so, without the slightest
affectation of condescension; a marchioness will step, with a
smile, over the bodies of the ragged vagabonds who are slumbering
across her threshold, and, when travelling, will not make a face
if compelled to drink out of the same glass as the _mayoral_, the
_zagul_, and the _escopetero_ of the diligence. Foreigners find
great difficulty in accustoming themselves to this familiarity,
especially the English, who have their letters brought upon
salvers, and take them with tongs. An Englishman travelling from
Seville to Jeres, told his _calesero_ to go and get his dinner in
the kitchen. The calesero, who, in his own mind, thought he was
honouring a heretic very highly by sitting down at the same table
with him, did not make the slightest remark, and concealed his rage
as carefully as the villain in a melodrama; but about three or four
leagues from Jeres, in the midst of a frightful desert, full of
quagmires and bushes, he threw the Englishman very neatly out of
the vehicle, shouting to him as he whipped on his horse: "My lord,
you did not think me worthy of sitting at your table, and I, Don
Jose Balbino Bustamente y Orozco, do not think you good enough to
sit on the seat in my calesin. Good evening!"

The servants, both male and female, are treated with a gentle
familiarity very different from our affected civility, which
seems, every moment, to remind them of the inferiority of their
condition. A short example will prove the truth of this assertion.
We had gone to a party given at the country-house of the Señora
----; in the evening, there was a general desire to have a little
dancing, but there were a great many more ladies than gentlemen
present. To obviate this difficulty, the Señora ---- sent for the
gardener and another servant, who danced the whole evening without
the least awkwardness, false bashfulness, or servile forwardness,
but just as if they had been on a perfect equality with the rest
of the company. They invited, in turn, the fairest and most noble
ladies present, and the latter complied with their request in the
most graceful manner possible. Our democrats are very far from
having attained this practical equality, and our most determined
Republicans would revolt at the idea of figuring in a quadrille,
opposite a peasant or a footman.

Of course, there are a great many exceptions to these remarks,
as there are to all other generalities. There are, doubtless,
many Spaniards who are active, laborious, and sensible to all the
refinements of life, but what I have said conveys the general
impression felt by a traveller after a stay of some little
time,--an impression which is often more correct than that of a
native observer, who is less struck by the novelty of the various
circumstances.

As our curiosity was satisfied with regard to Granada and its
buildings, we resolved, from having had a view of the Sierra
Nevada at every turn we took, to become more intimately acquainted
with it, and endeavour to ascend the Mulhacen, which is the most
elevated point of the whole range. Our friends at first attempted
to dissuade us from this project, which was really attended with
some little danger, but, on seeing that our resolution was fixed,
they recommended us a huntsman named Alexandro Romero, as a
person thoroughly acquainted with the mountains, and possessing
every qualification to act as guide. He came and saw us at our
_casa de pupilos_, and his manly, frank physiognomy, immediately
pre-possessed us in his favour. He wore an old velvet waistcoat,
a red woollen sash, and white linen gaiters, like those of the
Valencians, which enabled you to see his clean-made, nervous legs,
tanned like Cordovan leather. Alpargatas of twisted rope served
him for shoes, while a little Andalusian hat, that had grown red
from exposure to the sun, a carbine and a powder-flask, slung
across his shoulder, completed his costume. He undertook to make
all the necessary preparations for our expedition, and promised
to bring, at three o'clock, the next morning, the four horses we
required, one for my travelling companion, one for myself, a third
for a young German who had joined our caravan, and a fourth for
our servant, who was intrusted with the direction of the culinary
department. As for Romero he was to walk. Our provisions consisted
of a ham, some roast fowls, some chocolate, bread, lemons, sugar,
and a large leathern sack, called a _bota_, filled with excellent
Val-de-Peñas, which was the principal article in the list.

At the appointed hour, the horses were before our house, while
Romero was hammering away at the door with the butt-end of his
carbine. Still scarcely awake, we mounted our steeds, and the
procession set forth, our guide running on beforehand to point
out the road. Although it was already light, the sun had not
risen, and the undulating outlines of the smaller hills, which we
had passed, were spread out all around us, cool, limpid and blue,
like the waves of an immovable ocean. In the distance, Granada had
disappeared beneath the vapourized atmosphere. When the fiery globe
at last appeared on the horizon, all the hill-tops were covered
with a rosy tint, like so many young girls at the sight of their
lovers, and appeared to experience a feeling of bashful confusion
at the idea of having been seen in their morning _déshabille_.
The ridges of the mountain are connected with the plain by gentle
slopes, forming the first table-land which is easily accessible.
When we reached this place, our guide decided that we should allow
our horses a little breathing time, give them something to eat,
and breakfast ourselves. We ensconced ourselves at the foot of a
rock, near a little spring, the water of which was as bright as a
diamond, and sparkled beneath the emerald-coloured grass. Romero,
with all the dexterity of an American savage, improvised a fire
with a handful of brush-wood, while Louis prepared some chocolate,
which, with the addition of a slice of ham and a draught of wine,
composed our first meal in the mountains. While our breakfast was
cooking, a superb viper passed beside us, and appeared surprised
and dissatisfied at our installing ourselves on his estate, a fact
that he gave us to understand by unpolitely hissing at us, for
which he was rewarded by a sturdy thrust with a sword-stick through
the stomach. A little bird, that had watched the proceedings very
attentively, no sooner saw the viper disabled, than it flew up with
the feathers of its neck standing on end, its eye all fire, and
flapping its wings, and piping in a strange state of exultation.
Every time that any portion of the venomous beast writhed
convulsively, the bird shrunk back, soon returning to the charge,
however, and pecking the viper with its beak, after which it would
rise in the air three or four feet. I do not know what the serpent
could have done, during its lifetime, to the bird, or what was the
feeling of hatred we had gratified by killing the viper, but it is
certain that I never beheld such an amount of delight.

We once again set out. From time to time we met a string of little
asses coming down from the higher parts of the mountains with their
load of snow, which they were carrying to Granada for the day's
consumption. The drivers saluted us, as they passed by, with the
time honoured "_Vayan Ustedes con Dios_," and we replied by some
joke about their merchandise, which would never accompany them as
far as the city, and which they would be obliged to sell to the
official who was entrusted with the duty of watering the public
streets.

We were always preceded by Romero, who leaped from stone to stone
with the agility of a chamois, and kept exclaiming, _Bueno camino_
(a good road). I should certainly very much like to know what
the worthy fellow would call a bad road, for, as far as I was
concerned, I could not perceive the slightest sign of any road at
all. To our right and left, as far as the eye could distinguish,
yawned delightful abysses, very blue, very azure and very vapoury,
varying in depth from fifteen hundred to two thousand feet, a
difference, however, about which we troubled our heads very little,
for a few dozen fathoms more or less made very little difference
in the matter. I recollect with a shudder a certain pass, three or
four pistol-shots long and two feet broad,--a sort of natural plank
running between two gulfs. As my horse headed the procession, I had
to pass first over this kind of tight-rope, which would have made
the most determined acrobats pause and reflect. At certain points
there was only just enough space for my horse's feet, and each of
my legs was dangling over a separate abyss. I sat motionless in my
saddle, as upright as if I had been balancing a chair on the end of
my nose. This pass, which took us a few minutes to traverse, struck
me as particularly long.

When I quietly reflect on this incredible ascent, I am lost in
surprise, as at the remembrance of some incoherent dream. We
passed over spots where a goat would have hesitated to set its
foot, and scaled precipices so steep that the ears of our horses
touched our chins. Our road lay between rocks and blocks of stone,
which threatened to fall down upon us every moment, and ran in
zigzags along the edge of the most frightful precipices. We took
advantage of every favourable opportunity, and although advancing
slowly we still advanced, gradually approaching the goal of our
ambition,--namely, the summit, that we had lost sight of since
we had been in the mountains, because each separate piece of
table-land hides the one above it.

Every time our horses stopped to take breath, we turned round in
our saddles to contemplate the immense panorama formed by the
circular canvas of the horizon. The mountain tops which lay below
us looked as if they had been marked out in a large map. The Vega
of Granada and all Andalusia presented the appearance of an azure
sea, in the midst of which a few white points that caught the rays
of the sun, represented the sails of the different vessels. The
neighbouring eminences that were completely bare, and cracked,
and split from top to bottom, were tinged in the shade with a
green-ash colour, Egyptian blue, lilac and pearl-grey, while in
the sunshine they assumed a most admirable and warm hue similar to
that of orange peel, tarnished gold or a lion's skin. Nothing gives
you so good an idea of a chaos, of a world still in the course
of creation, as a mountain range seen from its highest point. It
seems as if a nation of Titans had been endeavouring to build some
sacrilegious Babel, some prodigious _Lylac_ or other; that they
had heaped together all the materials and commenced the gigantic
terraces, when suddenly the breath of some unknown being had, like
a tempest, swept over the temples and palaces they had begun,
shaking their foundations and levelling them with the ground. You
might fancy yourself amidst the remains of an antediluvian Babylon,
a pre-Adamite city. The enormous blocks, the Pharaoh-like masses,
awake in your breast thoughts of a race of giants that has now
disappeared, so visibly is the old age of the world written in deep
wrinkles on the bald front and rugged face of these millennial
mountains.

We had reached the region inhabited by the eagles. Several times,
at a distance, we saw one of these noble birds perched upon a
solitary rock, with its eye turned towards the sun, and immersed
in that state of contemplative ecstasy which with animals replaces
thought. There was one of them floating at an immense height above
us, and seemingly motionless in the midst of a sea of light. Romero
could not resist the pleasure of sending him a visiting card in
the shape of a bullet. It carried away one of the large feathers
of his wing, but the eagle, nothing moved, continued on his way
with indescribable majesty, as if nothing had happened. The feather
whirled round and round for a long time before reaching the earth;
it was picked up by Romero, who stuck it in his hat.

Thin streaks of snow now began to show themselves, scattered
here and there, in the shade; the air became more rarified and
the rocks more steep and precipitous; soon afterwards, the snow
appeared in immense sheets and enormous heaps which the sun was
no longer strong enough to melt. We were above the sources of
the Gruil, which we perceived like a blue ribband frosted with
silver, streaming down with all possible speed in the direction
of its beloved city. The table-land on which we stood is about
nine thousand feet above the level of the sea, and is the highest
spot in the range with the exception of the peak of Veleta and
the Mulhacen, which towers another thousand feet towards the
immeasurable height of heaven. On this spot Romero decided that
we should pass the night. The horses, who were worn out with
fatigue, were unsaddled; Louis and the guide tore up a quantity of
brushwood, roots, and juniper plants to make a fire, for although
in the plain the thermometer stood at thirty or thirty-five
degrees, there was a freshness on the heights we then occupied,
which we knew would settle down into intense cold as soon as
the sun had set. It was about five o'clock in the afternoon; my
companion and the young German determined to take advantage of the
daylight that remained, to scale alone and on foot the last heights
of the mountain. For my own part, I preferred stopping behind; my
soul was moved by the grand and sublime spectacle before me, and
I busied myself in scribbling in my pocket-book sundry verses,
which, if not well turned, had, at least, the merit of being the
only alexandrines composed at such an elevation. After my strophes
were finished, I manufactured some sorbets with snow, sugar, lemon
and brandy, for our dessert. Our encampment presented rather a
picturesque appearance; our saddles served us for seats, and our
cloaks for a carpet, while a large heap of snow protected us from
the wind. A fire of broom blazed brightly in the centre, and we
fed it by throwing in, from time to time, a fresh branch which
shrivelled up and hissed, darting out its sap in little streams
of all colours. Above us, the horses stretched forward their thin
heads, with their sad, gentle eyes, and caught an occasional puff
of warmth.

Night was rapidly approaching. The least elevated mountains were
the first to sink into obscurity, and the light, like a fisherman
flying before the rising tide, leapt from peak to peak, retiring
towards the highest in order to escape from the shade which was
advancing from the valleys beneath and burying everything in
its bluish waves. The last ray which stopt on the summit of the
Mulhacen hesitated for an instant; then, spreading out its golden
wings, winged its way like some bird of flame into the depths of
heaven and disappeared. The obscurity was now complete, and the
increased brilliancy of our fire caused a number of grotesque
shadows to dance about upon the sides of the rocks. Eugene and
the German had not returned, and I began to grow anxious on their
account; I feared that they might have fallen down some precipice
or been buried beneath some mass of snow. Romero and Louis already
requested me to sign a declaration to the effect that they had
neither murdered nor robbed the two worthy gentlemen, and that, if
the latter were dead, it was their own fault.

Meanwhile, we tore our lungs to pieces by indulging in the most
shrill and savage cries, to let them know the position of our
wig-wam, in case they should not be able to perceive the fire.
At last the report of firearms, which was hurled back by all the
echoes of the mountains, told us that we had been heard, and that
our companions were but a short distance off--in fact, at the
expiration of a few minutes, they made their appearance, fatigued
and worn out, asserting that they had distinctly seen Africa on
the other side of the ocean; it is very possible they had done so,
for the air of these parts is so pure, that the eye can perceive
objects at the distance of thirty or forty leagues. We were all
very merry at supper, and by dint of playing the bagpipes with
our skin of wine, we made it almost as flat as the wallet of a
Castilian beggar. It was agreed that each of us should sit up
in turn to attend the fire, an arrangement which was faithfully
carried out, but the circumference of our circle, which was at
first pretty considerable, kept becoming smaller and smaller.
Every hour the cold became more intense, and at last we literally
laid ourselves in the fire itself, so as to burn our shoes and
pantaloons. Louis gave vent to his feelings in loud exclamations;
he bewailed his _gaspacho_ (cold garlic soup), his house, his bed,
and even his wife. He made himself a formal promise, by everything
he reverenced, never to be caught a second time attempting an
ascent; he asserted that mountains are far more interesting when
seen from below, and that a man must be a maniac to expose himself
to the chance of breaking every bone in his body a hundred thousand
times, and having his nose frozen off in the middle of the month of
August, in Andalusia, and in sight of Africa. All night long he did
nothing but grumble and groan in the same manner, and we could not
succeed in reducing him to silence. Romero said nothing, and yet
his dress was made of thin linen, and all that he had to wrap round
him was a narrow piece of cloth.

At last the dawn appeared; we were enveloped in a cloud, and
Romero advised us to begin our descent, if we wished to reach
Granada before night. When it was sufficiently light to enable us
to distinguish the various objects, I observed that Eugene was as
red as a lobster nicely boiled, and at the same moment he made an
analogous observation with respect to me, and did not feel himself
bound to conceal the fact. The young German and Louis were also
equally red; Romero alone had reserved his peculiar tint, which
resembled, by the way, that of a boot-top, and although his legs of
bronze were naked, they had not undergone the slightest alteration.
It was the biting cold and the rarefaction of the air that had
turned us this colour. Going up a mountain is nothing, because you
look at the objects above you, but coming down, with the awful
depths before your eyes, is quite a different matter. At first the
thing appeared impracticable, and Louis began screeching like a
jay who is being picked alive. However, we could not remain for
ever on the Mulhacen, which is as little adapted for the purpose of
habitation as any place in the known world, and so, with Romero
at our head, we began our descent. It would be impossible, without
laying ourselves open to the charge of exaggeration, to convey any
notion of the paths, or rather the absence of paths, by which our
dare-devil of a guide conducted us; never more break-neck obstacles
crowded together in the course marked out for any steeple-chase,
and I entertain strong doubts as to whether the feats of any
"gentlemen riders" ever outrivalled our exploits on the Mulhacen.
The _Montagnes Russes_ were mild declivities in comparison to the
precipices with which we had to do. We were almost constantly
standing up in our stirrups, and leaning back over the cruppers of
our horses, in order to avoid performing an incessant succession
of parabolas over their heads. All the lines of perspective seem
jumbled up together; the streams appeared to be flowing up towards
their source, the rocks vacillated and staggered on their bases,
and the most distant objects appeared to be only two paces off; we
had lost all feeling of proportion, an effect which is very common
in the mountains, where the enormous size of the masses, and the
vertical position of the different ranges, do not allow of your
judging distances in the ordinary manner.

In spite of every difficulty we reached Granada without our horses
having even made one false step, only they had got but one shoe
left among them all. Andalusian horses--and ours were of the most
authentic description--cannot be equalled for mountain travelling.
They are so docile, so patient, and so intelligent, that the best
thing the rider can do is to throw the reins on their necks and let
them follow their own impulse.

We were impatiently expected, for our friends in the city had seen
our fire burning like a beacon on the table-land of Mulhacen. I
wanted to go and give an account of our perilous expedition to
the charming Senoras B----, but I was so fatigued that I fell
asleep on a chair, holding my stocking in my hand, and I did not
wake before ten o'clock the following morning, when I was still in
the same position. Some few days afterwards, we quitted Granada,
sighing quite as deeply as ever King Boabdil did.

CHAPTER XI.

FROM GRANADA TO MALAGA.

  The Robbers and Cosarios of Andalusia--Alhama--Malaga--Travelling
  Students--A Bull-fight--Montes--The Theatre.

A piece of news, well calculated to throw a whole Spanish town into
a state of commotion, had suddenly been bruited about Granada, to
the great delight of the _aficionados_. The new circus at Malaga
was at last finished, after having cost the contractor five million
reals. In order to inaugurate it solemnly, by exploits worthy of
the palmy days of the art, the great Montes de Chielana--Montes,
the first _espada_ of Spain, the brilliant successor of Romero and
Pepe Illo--had been engaged with his quadrille, and was to appear
in the ring three days consecutively. We had already been present
at several bull-fights, but we had not been fortunate enough to
see Montes, who was prevented by his political opinions from
making his appearance in the circus at Madrid; and to quit Spain
without having seen Montes would be something as barbarous and
savage as to leave Paris without having witnessed the performance
of Mademoiselle Rachel. Although, had we taken the direct road, we
ought to have proceeded at once to Cordova, we could not resist
this temptation, and we resolved, in spite of the difficulties of
the journey and the short time at our disposal, to make a little
excursion to Malaga.

There is no diligence from Granada to Malaga, and the only means of
transport are the _galeras_ or mules: we chose the latter as being
surer and quicker, for we were under the necessity of taking the
cross-roads through the Alpurjas, in order to arrive even on the
very day of the fight.

Our friends in Granada recommended us a _cosario_ (conductor
of a convoy) named Lanza, a good-looking honest fellow, and
very intimate with the brigands. This fact would certainly not
tell much in his favour in France, but on the other side of the
Pyrenees the case is different. The muleteers and conductors of
the _galeras_ know the robbers and make bargains with them; for
so much a head, or so much for the whole convoy, according to
the terms agreed upon, they obtain a free passage, and are never
attacked. These arrangements are observed by both parties with
the most scrupulous probity, if I may use the word, and if it is
not too much out of place when talking of transactions of this
description. When the chief of the gang infesting a peculiar track,
takes advantage of the _indulto_,[10] or, for some reason or other,
cedes his business and customers to any one else, he never neglects
presenting officially to his successor those _cosarios_ who pay him
"black mail," in order that they may not be molested by mistake.
By this system, travellers are sure of not being pillaged, while
the robbers avoid the risk of making an attack and meeting with
a degree of resistance which is often accompanied with danger to
them; so that the arrangement is advantageous to both parties.

One night, between Alhama and Velez, our cosario had dropped to
sleep upon the neck of his mule, in the rear of the convoy, when
suddenly he was awakened by shrill cries, and saw a number of
trabucos glistening at the road-side. There was no doubt about the
matter; the convoy was attacked. In the greatest state of surprise,
he threw himself from his mule, and averting the muzzles of the
blunderbusses with his hand, declared who he was. "Ah! we beg your
pardon, Señor Lanza," said the brigands, quite confused at their
mistake, "but we did not recognise you. We are honest men, totally
incapable of so indelicate a proceeding as to molest you. We have
too much honour to deprive you of even so much as a single cigar."

If you do not travel with a man who is known along the road, it is
absolutely necessary to be accompanied by a numerous escort, armed
to the teeth, and which cost a great deal, besides offering less
security, for the _escopeteros_ are generally retired robbers.

It is the custom in Andalusia, when a person travels on horseback,
and goes to the bull-fights, to put on the national costume.
Accordingly our little caravan was rather picturesque, and made
a very good appearance as it left Granada. Seizing with delight
this opportunity of disguising myself out of Carnival time, and
quitting, for a short space, my horrible French attire, I donned my
_majo's_ costume, consisting of a peaked hat, embroidered jacket,
velvet waistcoat, with filigree buttons, red silk sash, webbed
breeches, and gaiters open at the calf. My travelling companion
wore his dress of green velvet and Cordova leather. Some of the
others wore _monteras_, black jackets, and breeches decorated with
silk trimmings of the same colour, and yellow cravats and sashes.
Lanza was remarkable for the magnificence of his silver buttons,
made of pillared dollars, soldered to a shank, and the floss-silk
embroideries of his second jacket, which he wore hanging from his
shoulder like a hussar's pelisse.

The mule that had been assigned to me was close-shaved halfway up
his body, so that I was enabled to study his muscular development
with as much ease as if he had been flayed. The saddle was composed
of two variegated horse-cloths, put on double, in order to soften
as much as possible the projecting vertebræ, and the sloping shape
of the animal's backbone. On each side hung down, in the guise
of stirrups, two kinds of wooden troughs, rather resembling our
rat-traps. The head-trappings were so loaded with rosettes, tufts,
and other gewgaws, that it was almost impossible to distinguish
the capricious brute's sour crabbed profile through the mass of
ornament fluttering about it.

Whenever they travel, Spaniards resume their ancient originality,
and eschew the imitation of anything foreign. The national
characteristics reappear in all their pristine vigour, in these
convoys through the mountains--convoys which cannot differ much
from the caravans through the desert. The roughness of the roads,
that are scarcely marked out, the grand savage aspects of the
various places you pass through, the picturesque costume of the
_arrieros_, and the strange trappings of the mules, horses, and
asses, marching along in files, all transport you a thousand
miles away from civilized life. Travelling becomes a reality, an
action in which you take a part. In a diligence a man is no longer
a man, he is but an inert object, a bale of goods, and does not
much differ from his portmanteau. He is thrown from one place
to the other, and might as well stop at home. The pleasure of
travelling consists in the obstacles, the fatigue, and even the
danger. What charm can any one find in an excursion, when he is
always sure of reaching his destination, of having horses ready
waiting for him, a soft bed, an excellent supper, and all the ease
and comfort which he can enjoy in his own house? One of the great
misfortunes of modern life is the want of any sudden surprise, and
the absence of all adventures. Everything is so well arranged, so
admirably combined, so plainly labelled, that chance is an utter
impossibility; if we go on progressing, in this fashion, towards
perfection for another century, every man will be able to foresee
everything that will happen to him from the day of his birth to
the day of his death. Human will will be completely annihilated.
There will be no more crimes, no more virtues, no more characters,
no more originality. It will be impossible to distinguish a Russian
from a Spaniard, an Englishman from a Chinese, or a Frenchman from
an American. People will not even be able to recognise one another,
for every one will be alike. An intense feeling of _ennui_ will
then take possession of the universe, and suicide will decimate the
population of the globe, for the principal spring of life, namely,
curiosity, will have been destroyed for ever.

A journey in Spain is still a perilous and romantic affair. You
must risk your life, and possess courage, patience, and strength.
You are exposed to danger at every step you take. Privations of all
kinds, the absence of the most indispensable articles, the wretched
state of the roads, that would offer insurmountable difficulties to
any but an Andalusian muleteer, the most horrible heat, with the
sun darting its rays upon you as if it were about to split your
skull, are the most trifling inconveniences. Besides all this,
there are the _factions_, the robbers, and the innkeepers, all
ready to plunder and ill-treat you, and who regulate their honesty
by the number of carbines that accompany you. Peril encircles you,
follows you, goes before you, is all around you. You hear nothing
but terrible and mysterious stories discussed in a low, terrified
tone. Yesterday the bandits supped in the very _posada_ at which
you alight. A caravan has been attacked and carried off into the
mountains by the brigands, in the hope that their prisoners will
be ransomed. Pallilos is lying in ambush at such and such a spot,
which you will have to pass! Without doubt there is a good deal
of exaggeration in all this, but however incredulous you may be,
you cannot avoid believing something of it, when, at each turn of
the road, you perceive wooden crosses with inscriptions of this
kind--_Aqui mataron à un hombre, Aqui murio de maupairada_.

We had left Granada in the evening, and were to travel all night.
It was not long before the moon rose, frosting with silver the
precipitous rocks exposed to her beams. These rocks threw their
long strange shadows over the road we were following, and produced
some very singular optical effects. We heard in the distance, like
the notes of an harmonica, the tinkling of the asses' bells, for
the asses had been sent on beforehand with our luggage, or some
_mozo de mulas_ singing some amorous couplets with that guttural
tone and peculiar far-sounding pitch of voice, so poetical when
heard at night and in the mountains. The song was delightful; and
the reader will perhaps thank us for giving two stanzas, which were
probably improvised, and which, from their graceful quaintness,
have ever since remained engraved on our memory:

      Son tus labios dos cortinas
      De terciopelo carmesi;
      Entre cortina y cortina,
      Niña, dime que se.

      Atame con un cabello
      A los bancos de tu cama,
      Aunque el cabello se compa
      Segura esta que no me vaya.

          Thy lips are two curtains
          Of crimson velvet;
          Between curtain and curtain,
          Dear girl, say to me, Yes.

          Fasten me with a hair
          To the frame of your couch,
          Even if the hair should snap,
          Be sure that I would not leave you.

We soon passed Cacin, where we forded a pretty little torrent
some inches deep. The clear water glittered on the sand like the
scales on the belly of a bleak, and then streamed down the steep
mountain-side like an avalanche of silver spangles.

Beyond Cacin, the road becomes most wretchedly bad. Our mules
sunk up to their girths in the stones, while they had a shower of
sparks round each of their hoofs. We had to ascend and descend,
to pass along the edges of precipices and to proceed in all sorts
of zigzags and diagonals, for we had entered those inaccessible
solitudes, those savage and precipitous mountain-chains, the
Alpujarras, whence the Moors, so runs the report, could never be
completely expelled, and where some thousands of their descendants
live concealed at the present day.

At a turn in the road, we experienced a very tolerable amount of
alarm. We perceived, by the light of the moon, seven strapping
fellows, draped in long mantles, with peaked hats on their heads,
and _trabuchos_ on their shoulders, standing motionless in the
middle of the way. The adventure we had so long panted for,
was about to be realized in the most romantic manner possible.
Unfortunately, the banditti saluted us politely with a respectful
_Vayan Ustedes con Dios_. They were the very reverse of robbers,
being Miquelets, that is to say, gendarmes! Oh, what a cruel
disappointment was this for two enthusiastic young travellers,
who would willingly have lost their luggage for the sake of an
adventure.

We were to stop for the night at a little town called Alhama,
perched like an eagle's nest upon the top of a mountain peak.
Nothing can be more picturesque than the sharp angle which the road
conducting to this eyrie is obliged to make, in order to adapt
itself to the unevenness of the ground. We reached our destination
about two in the morning, half dead with hunger and thirst, and
worn out with fatigue. We quenched our thirst by means of three or
four jars of water, and appeased our hunger by a tomato omelette,
which, considering it was a Spanish one, did not contain too
many feathers. A stony kind of mattress, bearing a strong family
likeness to a sack of walnuts, was given us for a couch. At the
expiration of two minutes, I was buried in that peculiar sleep
attributed to the Just, and my companion religiously followed my
example. The day surprised us in the same attitudes, as motionless
as lumps of lead.

I went down into the kitchen to implore them to give me some
food, and, thanks to my eloquence, obtained some cutlets, a fowl
fried in oil, and half of a water-melon, besides for dessert,
some Barbary figs, whose prickly skin the landlady took off very
dexterously. The water-melon did us a great deal of good; the rosy
pulp contained inside its green rind has a most delightfully cool
and thirst-assuaging look. Scarcely have you bitten it, before you
are inundated up to your elbows with a very agreeably-flavoured and
slightly sweet juice, which bears no sort of resemblance to that of
our cantaloups. We really stood in need of this refreshing fruit
to moderate the burning effects of the peppers and spices with
which all Spanish dishes are seasoned. We were on fire internally
and roasted externally; the heat was atrocious. We lay down upon
the brick floor of our room, on which the forms of our bodies were
marked by pools of perspiration. The only method we could discover
for rendering the place, comparatively speaking, a little cool, was
by closely shutting all the doors and windows, and remaining in
complete darkness.

In spite of this Indian temperature, however, I boldly threw my
jacket over my shoulder, and went out to take a turn in the streets
of Alhama. The sky was as white as metal in a state of fusion: the
pavingstones glistened as if they had been waxed and polished; the
whitewashed walls presented a micaceous scintillating appearance,
while the pitiless blinding sunshine penetrated into every hole
and corner. The shutters and doors were cracking with heat, the
gasping soil was full of yawning fissures, and the branches of the
vines writhed like green wood when thrown into the fire; while, in
addition to all this, there was the reflection of the neighbouring
rocks, which cast back the rays of light even hotter than they
were before. To complete my torture, I had got on very thin shoes,
through which the pavement burnt the soles of my feet. There was
not a breath of air, not so much wind as would have ruffled a
feather. It is impossible to conceive anything more dull, more
melancholy, or more savage.

I wandered at hazard through the solitary streets, whose
chalk-coloured walls, pierced by a few windows, scattered far
apart, and closed by means of wooden shutters, gave them a
completely African appearance, until, I will not say without
meeting a human being, but absolutely without seeing a living
creature, I reached the great square, which is exceedingly
picturesque and quaint. It is crossed by the stone arches of an
aqueduct, and consists simply of a level space cleared away on the
bare rock itself, which has grooves cut in it to prevent persons
from slipping. The whole of one side overlooks the abyss, at the
bottom of which peep out, from the midst of clumps of trees,
several mills that are turned by a torrent which foams so violently
that it resembles a quantity of soap-suds.

The hour fixed upon for our departure was approaching, and I
returned to the _posada_ wet through with perspiration, just as if
I had been out in a heavy shower of rain, but satisfied at having
done my duty as a traveller, although you might have boiled eggs by
the mere heat of the atmosphere.

Our caravan again set out, proceeding through most abominable but
highly picturesque roads, where no other creature but a mule could
have stood without falling. I had thrown the bridle on the neck of
mine, thinking that he was better qualified to direct his steps
than I was, and leaving him all the responsibility of passing
the dangerous points. I had already had several very animated
discussions with him, in order to induce him to walk beside the
mule of my companion, but I was at last convinced of the inutility
of my efforts. I bow, in all submission, to the truth of the
saying--_As obstinate as a mule_. Give a mule the spur and it will
stand still; touch it with a whip, it will lie down; pull it up,
and it will start off at full gallop: in the mountains, a mule is
really intractable; it feels its importance and takes a most unfair
advantage of it. Very often, right in the middle of the road, a
mule will suddenly stop, raise its head, stretch out its neck, draw
back its lips, so as to expose its gums and long teeth, and indulge
in a series of the most horrible inarticulate sighs, convulsive
sobs, and frightful clucking, resembling the shrieks of a child who
is being murdered. During the time it is indulging in this system
of vocalization you might kill it, without being able to make it
move one step.

Our path now lay through a veritable Campo Santo. The crosses
erected where murders had been committed, became frightfully
numerous: in the situations that were favourable to this kind of
thing, we sometimes counted more than three or four crosses in
less than a hundred paces; we were no longer on a road, but in a
cemetery. I must own, however, that if it were the custom in France
to perpetuate the memory of violent deaths by the erection of
crosses, there would be quite as many of them in certain streets
of Paris as there are on the road from Grenada to Velez-Malaga.
The dates of a great number of these sinister monuments are
already very old; it is very certain, however, that they keep the
traveller's mind actively employed, rendering him attentive to the
slightest noise, causing him to look very carefully about him, and
hindering any feeling of _ennui_. At every turn of the road, he
says to himself, if he sees a rock that looks at all suspicious, or
a mysterious cluster of trees: "There is some vagabond concealed
behind there, who is the act of taking aim, and is on the point
of making me the pretext for another cross destined to edify the
travellers of future generations who may happen to pass by the
spot."

When we emerged from the defiles, the crosses became somewhat
less frequent. Our road now lay along the bases of stern, grand
mountains, whose summits were cut off by immense archipelagos of
mist. The country was a complete desert, with no other habitations
save the reed hut of some _aguador_, or vender of brandy. This
brandy is colourless, and is drunk out of long glasses filled
up with water, which it causes it to turn white exactly as
Eau-de-Cologne would.

The weather was heavy and stormy, and the heat suffocating: a few
large drops of water, the only ones that had fallen for a space
of four months, from the implacable sky of lapis-lazuli, spotted
the parched sand, and made it resemble a panther's skin; however,
there was no shower after all, and the canopy of heaven resumed its
immutable serenity. The sky was so constantly blue during my stay
in Spain, that I find the following notice in my pocketbook: "Saw a
white cloud," as if such an object was worthy of being especially
recorded. We inhabitants of the north are so accustomed to behold
the heavens covered with clouds, constantly varying in form and
colour, and with which the wind builds mountains, islands, and
palaces, that it soon destroys again to build elsewhere, that we
cannot form any conception of the feeling of profound melancholy
caused by this azure tint, as uniform as eternity itself, and which
is always hanging over one's head. In a little village which we
traversed, all the population were standing outside their houses in
order to enjoy the rain, just as we should go in doors to avoid it.

The night has set in without any twilight, almost in an instant,
as is the case in warm climates, and we were not very far from
Velez-Malaga, where we intended sleeping. The mountain-steeps began
to be less abrupt, and gradually subsided in small stony plains,
traversed by streams fifteen or twenty feet broad, and one foot
deep; their banks were covered with gigantic reeds. The funeral
crosses again became more numerous than ever, and their white
colour caused them to stand out distinctly from the blue mist of
night. We counted three of them in the distance of twenty paces,
but the fact is, that the spot presents a most lonely appearance,
and is admirably adapted for an ambuscade.

It was eleven o'clock when we entered Valez-Malaga; the windows
were joyfully lighted up, and the streets re-echoed with songs and
the sounds of guitars. The young maidens seated in the balconies
were singing verses which the _novios_ accompanied from the
street below, and each stanza was followed by laughter, shouts,
and applause, which I thought would never end. Other groups were
dancing the cachucha, the fandango, and the jalo, at the corners
of the streets. The guitars emitted a dull hum like that of bees,
the castagnettes rattled merrily, and all was music and delight.
It would almost appear as if the most important business of a
Spaniard's life were pleasure; he gives himself up to it, heart
and soul, with admirable ease and frankness. No nation in the
world appears to know less of misfortune than the Spaniards, and
a stranger travelling through the Peninsula can scarcely believe
that the state of political affairs can be so serious, or that
he is traversing a country which for ten years has been ravaged
and laid waste by civil war. Our peasants are far from possessing
the happy carelessness, the joyful look, and the elegant costume
of the Andalusian _majos_, and in the matter of education they
are greatly inferior to them. Almost all the Spanish peasants can
write; their minds are stored with poetry, which they recite or
sing without destroying the measure; they are good horsemen, and
very dexterous in the use of the knife and carbine. It is true that
the admirable fertility of the soil and the beauty of the climate
relieves them from the necessity of that brutalizing work, which,
in less favoured countries, reduces man to the condition of a beast
of burden or a machine, and robs him of those two gifts of heaven,
force and beauty.

It was not without a feeling of the profoundest satisfaction, that
I tied my mule to the bars of the posada.

Our supper was extremely frugal; all the servants, both male
and female, were gone out to dance, so that we had to content
ourselves with a simple _gaspacho_. The _gaspacho_ is worthy of
a particular description, and we will therefore give our readers
the receipt for making it--a receipt which would have caused the
late Brillat-Savarin's hair to stand on end with horror. You first
pour some water into a soup-tureen; to this water you then add a
small quantity of vinegar, some cloves of garlic, some onions cut
into quarters, some sliced cucumber, a little pimento, and a pinch
of salt. You then cut some slices of bread and let them soak in
this agreeable compound, which is served up cold. In France, a dog
with the least pretensions to a good education would refuse to
compromise himself by putting his nose into such a mixture; but
it is the favourite dish of the Andalusians, and the most lovely
women do not hesitate of an evening, to swallow large messes of
this diabolical soup. The _gaspacho_ is considered very refreshing,
an opinion which struck us, allowing scope for some diversity of
opinion; yet, strange as the mixture appears the first time you
taste it, you gradually grow accustomed to it, and, ultimately,
even like it. By a providential chance we had, to enable us to wash
down this meagre repast, a large decanterful of excellent dry white
Malaga, which we conscientiously finished to the last pearly drop,
and which restored our strength, that was completely exhausted by
a ride of nine hours, over the most improbable roads, and in a
temperature like that of a limekiln.

At three o'clock the conveyance set out once more upon its march.
The sky looked lowering; a warm mist hung over the horizon, and
the humidity of the air warned us that we were approaching the
sea, which soon afterwards appeared in the extreme distance like a
streak of hard blue. A few fleecy flakes of foam were visible here
and there, while the waves came and died away in regular volutes
upon the sand, which was as fine as boxwood sawdust. High cliffs
rose upon our right. At one moment the rocks separated and left
us a free passage, and at the next they barricaded the road, and
obliged us to wind slowly round them. It is not often that Spanish
roads proceed in a right line; it would be so difficult a task to
overcome the various obstacles, that it is far better to go round
than to surmount them. The famous motto, _Linea recta brevissima_,
would in Spain be completely false.

The rising sun dispersed the mist as if it had been so much smoke;
the sky and the sea recommenced their azure struggle, in which it
is impossible to say which of the two is victorious; the cliffs
reassumed their varied tints of reddish-brown, shot-colour,
amethyst, and burnt topaz; the sand began once again to rise in
small thin clouds, and the water to glisten in the intensity of the
sunshine. Far, far away, almost on the line of the horizon, the
sails of five fishing-boats palpitated in the wind like the wings
of a dove.

The declivities now became less steep; from time to time, a little
house appeared, as white as lump-sugar, with a flat roof, and a
kind of peristyle formed by a vine clustering over trellis-work,
supported at each end by a square pillar, and in the middle by a
massive pylone, that presented quite an Egyptian appearance. The
_aguardiente_ stores became more numerous; they were still built
of reeds, but they were more natty, and boasted of whitewashed
counters daubed with a few streaks of red. The road, which was
now distinctly marked out, began to be lined on each side with
a line of cactus and aloe-trees, broken now and then by gardens
and houses, before which women were mending nets, and children,
completely naked, playing about. On seeing us pass by on our
mules, they cried out, "_Toro! Toro!_" taking us, on account of
our _majo_ costume, for proprietors of _ganaderias_, or for the
_toreros_ belonging to the quadrille directed by Montes.

Carts drawn by oxen and strings of asses now followed at shorter
intervals, and the bustle which invariably marks the neighbourhood
of a large town became every moment more apparent. On all sides,
convoys of mules, carrying persons who were on their way to witness
the opening of the circus, made their appearance: we met a great
number in the mountains coming from a distance of thirty or forty
leagues. The _aficionados_ are as superior, by their passionate and
furious love of their favourite amusement, to our dilettanti, as
the interest excited by a bull-fight is superior to that produced
by the representation of an opera: nothing stops them; neither the
heat, nor the difficulty or danger of the journey; provided they
reach their destination and obtain a place near the _barrera_, from
which they can pat the bull on the back, they consider themselves
amply repaid for whatever fatigue they may have undergone. What
tragic or comic author can boast of possessing such powers of
attraction? This, however, does not prevent a set of namby-pamby
sentimental authors from pretending that the taste for this
_barbarous amusement_, as they term it, is every day gradually
dying away in Spain.

It is impossible to conceive anything more picturesque and strange
than the environs of Malaga. You appear to be transported to
Africa: the dazzling whiteness of the houses, the deep indigo
colour of the sea, and the overpowering intensity of the sun, all
combine to keep up the illusion. On each side of the road are
numbers of enormous aloe-trees, bristling up and waving their
leafy cutlasses, and gigantic cactuses with their green broad
foliage and misshapen trunks, writhing hideously like monstrous
boa-constrictors, or resembling the backbones of so many stranded
whales; while here and there a palm-tree shoots up like a column,
displaying its green capital by the side of some tree of European
parentage, which seems surprised at such a neighbour, and alarmed
at seeing the formidable vegetation of Africa crawling at its feet.

An elegant white tower now stood out upon the blue sky behind; it
was the Malaga lighthouse; we had reached our destination. It was
about eight o'clock in the morning; the town was already alive
and stirring: the sailors were passing and re-passing, loading
and unloading the vessels anchored in the port, and displaying
a degree of animation which was something uncommon in a Spanish
town; the women, with their heads and figures enveloped in large
scarlet shawls, which suited their Moorish faces most marvellously,
were walking quickly along, and dragging after them some brat,
who was entirely naked, or who had only got on a shirt. The men,
with their cloaks thrown round them, or their jackets cast over
their shoulders, hurried on their way; and it is a curious fact,
that all this crowd was proceeding in the same direction,--that
is, towards the _Plaza de Toros_. What struck me most, however, in
this multicoloured concourse of people, was the sight of the negro
galley-slaves, dragging a cart. They were of gigantic stature, with
such monstrously savage faces, possessing so little of anything
human, and stamped with such an expression of ferocious brutality,
that on beholding them I stopped motionless with horror, as if they
had been a team of tigers. The kind of linen robe which constituted
their dress rendered their appearance still more diabolical and
fantastic. I do not know what crime had brought them to the
galleys; but I should certainly have sent them there merely because
they were villains enough to have such faces.

[Illustration: MALAGA FROM THE ALAMEDA.]

We put up at the _parador_ of the Three Kings, which, comparatively
speaking, is a very comfortable establishment, shaded by a fine
vine, whose tendrils clustered round the ironwork of the balcony,
and adorned with a large room, where the landlady sat enthroned
behind a counter, loaded with porcelain, somewhat after the
fashion of the Parisian cafés. A very beautiful servant-girl,
a charming specimen of the lovely women for which Malaga is
celebrated all through Spain, showed us to our rooms, and threw us,
for a few minutes, into a state of desperate anxiety, by informing
us that all the places in the circus were already taken, and that
we should have great difficulty in procuring any. Fortunately, our
_cosario_, Lanza, got us two _asientos de preferencia_ (numbered
seats); it is true that they were exposed to the sun, but we did
not care for that. We had long since sacrificed the freshness of
our complexion, and were not particular about our bistre-coloured
yellow faces becoming a trifle more sunburnt. The circus was to be
open during three days consecutively. The tickets for the first day
were crimson; for the second, green; and for the third, blue; in
order that there might be no confusion, and that the lovers of the
sport might not obtain admission twice with the same card.

While we were breakfasting, a company of travelling students
came in. They were four in number, and were more like some of
Ribiera's or Murillo's models than theological students, so ragged,
barefooted, and dirty were they. They sang some comic songs,
accompanying themselves with the tambourine, the triangle, and
the castagnettes. The one who played the _pandero_ was a virtuoso
in his way: he performed on his ass's skin with his knees, his
elbows, and his feet, and, not content with these various means
of percussion, would now and then apply the dirk, ornamented with
its copper circles, on the head of some _muchacho_, or old woman.
One of the students, who was the orator of the band, went round to
collect alms, and indulged, with an excessive amount of volubility,
in all sorts of pleasantry, in order to excite the generosity of
the company. "A _realito_!" he exclaimed, throwing himself into
the most supplicating postures, "so that I may finish my studies,
become a priest, and live without doing anything." Whenever he
obtained a small piece of silver, he stuck it on his forehead, near
to those he had already extorted, exactly like the Almees, who
cover their faces, bathed in perspiration, with the sequins and
piastres which the enchanted Osmanlis have thrown them.

The performances were to begin at five o'clock, but we were advised
to be at the circus at about one, as the corridors would be choked
up by the crowd at an early hour, and prevent us from reaching our
places, although they were numbered and reserved. We swallowed our
breakfast, therefore, as quickly as we could, and set out towards
the _Plaza de Toros_, preceded by our guide Antonio, a tall, thin
fellow, whose waist was tied in most atrociously by a broad red
sash, increasing still more his natural meagreness, which he
pleasantly attributed to the fact of his having been crossed in
love.

The streets were swarming with an immense multitude, which became
more and more dense as we approached the circus; the _aguadors_,
the venders of iced _cebada_, of paper fans, and parasols, and
of cigars, as well as the _calessin_ drivers, were creating a
frightful uproar: a confused rumour floated over the town like a
fog of noise.

After twisting and turning about, for a considerable time, in
the narrow, complicated streets of Malaga, we at last arrived
before the building, whose exterior offers nothing remarkable. A
detachment of troops had considerable difficulty in keeping back
the crowd, which would otherwise have invaded the Circus; although
it was not more than one o'clock, at the latest, the seats were all
occupied from top to bottom, and it was only by a free use of our
elbows, and the interchange of a profusion of invectives, that we
succeeded in reaching our stalls.

The Circus at Malaga is really antique in size, and will contain
twelve or fifteen thousand spectators in its vast funnel-like
interior, of which the arena forms the bottom, while the acroteria
rises to the height of a five-storied house. It gives you a notion
of what the Roman amphitheatres must have been, as well as those
terrible spectacles where men were opposed to wild beasts, under
the eyes of a whole nation.

It is impossible to conceive any sight more strange and more
splendid, than that of these immense rows of seats occupied by an
impatient crowd, endeavouring to while away the hours they had to
wait by all kinds of jokes and _andaluzados_ of the most piquant
originality. The number of persons in modern costume was very
limited; those who were dressed in this manner were greeted with
shouts of laughter, cries, and hisses; this improved the general
appearance of the audience very much; the vivid-coloured jackets
and sashes, the scarlet drapery of the women, and the green and
jonquil fans, prevented the crowd from presenting that black,
lugubrious aspect which always distinguishes it in France, where
the sombre tints predominate.

There was a great number of women present, and I remarked very many
pretty ones among them. The Malagueña is remarkable for the pale,
golden uniformity of her complexion, tinging her cheek no more than
it does her forehead, for her long oval face, the bright carnation
of her lips, the delicacy of her nose, and the brilliancy of her
Arabian eyes, which any one might suppose were tinged with henna,
on account of the length the eyelashes extend towards the temples.
I do not know whether we must attribute it to the severe folds of
drapery round their faces, but they have a serious, passionate
look, which is completely Eastern in its character, and which is
not possessed by the women of Madrid, Granada, or Seville, who are
smaller, more graceful, and more _coquet_, and always thinking
somewhat of the effect they produce. I saw some admirable heads,
superb types, by which the painters of the Spanish school have not
sufficiently profited, and which would furnish an artist of talent
with matter for a series of precious and entirely new studies.
According to our notions, it appears strange that women can like to
witness a performance, in which the lives of human beings are every
moment in danger, where blood flows in large pools, and where the
wretched horses are gored until their feet get entangled in their
own intestines; a person unacquainted with the true state of the
case would be very likely to imagine that women who could do this
were brazen-faced, shameless creatures, but he would be greatly
mistaken.

Never did more gentle, Madonna-like faces, more silken eyelashes,
or more gentle smiles ever watch over a sleeping child. The various
chances of the bull's death are attentively observed by pale,
lovely beings, of whom an elegiac poet would be glad to make an
Elvira. The merit of the different thrusts is discussed by mouths
so pretty that you would fain hear them talk of nothing but love.
Because they behold unmoved scenes of carnage which would cause
our sensitive Parisian beauties to faint, it must not be inferred
that they are cruel and deficient in tenderness of soul; in spite
of their presence at such sights, they are good, simple-minded, and
full of compassion for the unfortunate. But custom is everything;
the sanguinary side of a bull-fight, which is what strikes
foreigners the most forcibly, is exactly that which least interests
Spaniards, who devote their whole attention to the importance of
the different blows and the amount of address displayed by the
_toreros_, who do not run so great a risk as might at first be
imagined.

It was not more than two o'clock, and the sun inundated with a
deluge of fire all the seats on the side we were placed. How we
envied those favoured individuals who were revelling in the bath
of shade, thrown over them by the upper boxes! After riding thirty
leagues in the mountains, the fact of remaining the whole day
exposed to an African sun, with the thermometer at thirty-eight, is
rather creditable on the part of a wretched critic, who, on this
occasion, had paid for his place and did not wish to lose it.

The _asientos de sombra_ (places in the shade) hurled all kinds of
sarcasms at us; they sent us the water-merchants, to prevent us
from catching fire; they begged permission to light their cigars
at our fiery noses, and kindly offered us a little oil in order
that we might be properly fried. We answered as successfully as
our means would allow, and when the shade, shifting as the day
advanced, delivered up one of our tormentors to the rays of the
sun, the event was celebrated by shouts of laughter and an endless
tumult of applause.

Thanks to some jars full of water, some dozen oranges, and two
fans in constant movement, we managed not to catch fire, and we
were not quite roasted, nor struck by apoplexy when the musicians
took possession of the places set apart for them, and the picket
of cavalry proceeded to clear the arena for a whole host of
_muchachos_ and _mozos_, who, by some inexplicable process,
found places among the general mass of spectators, although,
mathematically speaking, there was not room for one more; under
certain circumstances, however, a crowd is marvellously elastic.

An immense sigh of satisfaction proceeded from the fifteen thousand
breasts that were now relieved from the irksome necessity of
waiting any longer. The members of the _Ayuntamiento_ were greeted
with frantic applause, and on their entering their box, the
orchestra struck up the national airs--_Yo que soy Contrabandista_
and the march of _Riego_--the whole assemblage singing them at the
same time, clapping their hands, and stamping their feet.

We do not here pretend to give a detailed account of a bull-fight.
We have already had occasion to describe one with conscientious
accuracy, during our sojourn in Madrid, and shall therefore only
relate the principal events and remarkable instances of skill that
occurred in the course of the performances, during which the same
combatants appeared three days without resting, twenty-four bulls
were killed and ninety-six horses stretched dead upon the arena,
without any accident happening to any of the combatants, with the
exception of one _capeador_, whose arm was slightly gored by a
bull's horn; his wound, however, was not dangerous, and did not
prevent his appearance in the circus the following day.

At five o'clock precisely the gates of the arena were thrown
open, and the actors in the drama about to be presented proceeded
in procession round the circus. At the head were the three
_picadores_, Antonio Sanchez and Jose Trigo, both from Seville, and
Francisco Briones, from Puerto Real, with their hand upon their
hip and their lance upon their foot, as grave as Roman conquerors
going in triumph to the Capitol. On the saddles of their horses was
the name of the proprietor of the circus, Antonio Maria Alvarez,
formed with gilt-headed nails. After them came the _capeadores_ or
_chulos_, with their cocked-hats and gaudy-coloured mantles; while
the _banderilleros_, dressed like Figaro, followed close behind.
In the rear of the cortége, in majestic isolation, marched the two
_matadores_,--_the swords_, as they are styled in Spain,--Montes
de Chiclana, and Jose Parra de Madrid. Montes was always
accompanied by his own faithful quadrille, a very important thing
for the safety of the combatants; for in these times of political
dissensions, it often happens that the Christino _toreros_ will
not assist the Carlist _toreros_ when in danger, and _vice versâ_.
The procession was significantly terminated by the team of mules
destined to remove the dead bulls and horses.

The conflict was about to commence. The Alguazil, dressed in
everyday costume, and whose duty it was to carry the keys of the
_toril_ to the groom of the circus, had a spirited horse, which
he managed very awkwardly, prefacing the tragedy with rather an
amusing farce. He first lost his hat, and then his stirrups. His
trousers, which had no straps, were rucked up as far as his knees
in the most grotesque fashion, and, in consequence of the door
having been maliciously opened for the bull's entrance, before
the alguazil had had time to quit the circus, his fright was
increased to a fearful pitch, rendering him still more ridiculous
by the contortions he threw himself into on his steed. He was not,
however, unhorsed, to the great disappointment of the vulgar; the
bull, dazzled by the torrents of light which inundated the arena,
did not instantly perceive him, but allowed him to escape without
injury. It was therefore in the midst of an immense Homeric and
Olympian fit of laughter that the fight began, but silence was
soon restored, the bull having ripped up the horse of the first
_picador_, and thrown the second.

All our attention was engrossed by Montes, whose name is popular
all through Spain, and whose feats of daring form the subject of
a thousand wonderful stories. Montes was born at Chiclana, in the
neighbourhood of Cadiz. He is from forty to forty-three years
of age, and rather above the middle size. He has a serious cast
of countenance, a deliberate, measured walk, and a pale olive
complexion, with nothing remarkable about him save the mobility of
his eyes, which appear to be the only part of his impassible face
endowed with life; he seems to be more supple than robust, and owes
his success more to his coolness, the justness of his glance, and
his profound study of the art, than to his muscular force. At the
very first step a bull takes in the arena, Montes can tell whether
he is short or long sighted, whether he is _clear_ or _dark_; that
is to say, whether he attacks frankly or has recourse to stratagem,
whether he is _de muchas piernas_ or _aplomado_, light or heavy,
and whether he will shut his eyes to execute the _cogida_, or keep
them open. Thanks to these observations, made with the rapidity of
thought, Montes is always enabled to vary his mode of defence as
circumstances require. However, as he carries his cool temerity to
the greatest possible lengths, he has during his career received a
considerable number of thrusts, as the scar down his cheek proves,
and, on several occasions he has been borne out of the circus
grievously wounded.

On this occasion, he wore an extremely elegant and magnificent suit
of apple-green silk embroidered with silver, for Montes is a rich
man, and, if he still continues to appear in the arena, it is from
a love of the art, and the want of strong emotions; his fortune
amounts to more than 50,000 duros, which is a considerable sum
for him to possess, if we consider what the _matadores_ have to
pay for their dress, a complete suit costing from 1,500 to 2,000
francs, and, also the perpetual journeys they are always making,
accompanied by their quadrille, from one town to another.

Montes is not like other _espadas_, contented with despatching a
bull when the signal of his death is given. He is always on the
watch, he directs the combat, and comes to the succour of the
_picadores_ and _chulos_ in peril. More than one _torero_ owes
his life to Montes' intervention. One bull, that would not allow
his attention to be diverted by the cloaks that the _chulos_ were
waving before him, had ripped up the belly of a horse that he had
thrown down, and was endeavouring to do the same to the rider,
who was protected by the carcass of his steed. Montes seized the
savage beast by the tail, and in the midst of the frantic applause
of the whole assembly, caused him to waltz round several times,
to his infinite disgust; thus allowing time for the _picador_
to be carried off. Sometimes he will place himself motionless
before the bull, with his arms crossed on his breast, and his eye
fixed, and the monster will suddenly stop short, subjugated by
his opponent's look, which is as bright, as sharp, and as cold as
the blade of a sword. A feat of this description is followed by
shouts, bellowings, vociferations, stamping of feet and thunders
of bravoes, of which it is impossible to form any idea; a feeling
of delirium seizes every one present, a general giddiness causes
the fifteen thousand spectators, intoxicated with _aguardiente_,
sunshine, and blood, to reel upon their seats; handkerchiefs are
waved, and hats thrown up into the air, while Montes alone, calm in
the midst of this multitude, enjoys in silence the profound feeling
of joy which he restrains within his own breast, merely bowing
slightly like a man who is capable of performing many other feats
of the same description. I can easily understand a man risking
his life every minute for applause like this; it is not dear at
the price. O ye singers with golden throats, ye fairy-footed
danseuses, ye actors of all descriptions, ye emperors and ye poets,
ye who fancy that you have excited a people's enthusiasm, you never
heard Montes applauded!

Sometimes the spectators themselves beg him to execute one of
those daring feats in which he is always successful. A pretty girl
says to him, as she blows him a kiss, "Come, Señor Montes, come,
Paquirro" (which is his christian name), "I know how gallant you
are; do some trifle, _una cosita_, for a lady." Whereupon Montes
leaps over the bull, placing his head on the animal's neck as he
does so, or else, shaking his cape before the animal's muzzle, by a
rapid movement, wraps it round him so as to form an elegant piece
of drapery with irreproachable folds; he then springs on one side,
and lets the bull, who is unable to stop himself, pass by.

The manner in which Montes kills the bull is remarkable for its
precision, certainty, and ease: with him all idea of danger
ceases; he is so collected and so completely master of himself,
he appears so sure of success, that the combat seems no longer to
be serious, and, perhaps, loses somewhat of its exciting nature.
It is impossible to fear for his life; he strikes the bull where
he likes, when he likes, and how he likes. The chances of the
conflict become somewhat too unequal; a less skilful _matador_
will sometimes produce a more startling effect by the risks and
danger which he incurs. This will, perhaps, appear to be a piece
of refined barbarity; but _aficionados_, and all those persons who
have been present at a bull-fight, and felt interested in favour of
some particularly courageous, frank bull, will most certainly share
our sentiments. A circumstance which happened on the last day of
the performances will prove the truth of our assertion as surely
as it proved, rather harshly, to Montes, how strictly impartial a
Spanish public is both towards man and beast.

A magnificent black bull had just been let loose in the arena. The
quick, decided manner in which he issued from the _toril_ caused
all the connoisseurs present to conceive the highest opinion of
him. He possessed all the qualities requisite for a fighting bull;
his horns were long, sharp, and well-curved; his clean-made, slim,
and nervous legs, showed his extreme agility, while his broad
dewlap and well-developed flanks gave proof of an immense amount
of strength; indeed, he was called the Napoleon of the herd, that
being the only name capable of conveying a suitable idea of his
incontestable superiority. Without hesitating a single instant,
he rushed at the _picador_ stationed near the _tablas_, overthrew
him, together with his horse, who was killed on the spot, and
then attacked the second _picador_, who was not more fortunate,
and whom the assistants had scarcely time to help over the
barrier, severely bruised and injured by his fall. In less than a
quarter of an hour, six horses lay ripped open on the ground; the
_chulos_ only shook their coloured capes at a very long distance
off, without losing sight of the barrier, over which they leaped
immediately Napoleon gave signs of approaching. Montes himself
appeared troubled, and on one occasion had actually placed his foot
on the ledge of the _tablas_, ready to jump over to the other side,
in case he was too closely pressed; a thing he had not done during
the two preceding days. The delight of the spectators was made
manifest by the most noisy exclamations, and the most flattering
compliments for the bull were heard from every mouth. He shortly
afterwards performed a new feat of strength, which wound up the
enthusiasm to its highest possible pitch.

A _sobre-saliente_ (double) _de picador_--for the two principal
ones were too much injured to appear again, was awaiting, lance
in rest, the attack of the terrible Napoleon; the latter, without
paying any attention to the wound he received in the shoulder,
caught the horse under the belly, and, with one movement of his
head, caused him to fall with his fore-legs on the top of the
_tablas_; then, raising his hind quarters by a second movement,
sent him and his master completely over the barrier into the
corridor of refuge which runs all round the arena.

So great an exploit caused thunders of applause. The bull was
master of the field, galloping about victoriously, and amusing
himself, in default of any other adversaries, by tossing into the
air the dead bodies of the horses he had already gored. The supply
of victims was exhausted, and there were no more horses in the
stables of the circus to mount the _picadores_. The _banderilleros_
were seated astride upon the _tablas_, not daring to harass with
their darts, ornamented with paper, so redoubtable an adversary,
whose rage most certainly stood in no need of artificial
excitement. The spectators became impatient at this pause in the
proceedings, and vociferated, _Las banderillas! las banderillas!
Fuego al alcade!_ To the stake with the alcade for not giving the
necessary order! At last, at a sign from the director of the games,
one _banderillero_ detached himself from the rest, and planted two
darts in the neck of the furious animal, immediately retreating as
speedily as possible, but yet not quickly enough, as the bull's
horn grazed his arm, and tore up his sleeve. On seeing this, and
in spite of the hooting and vociferations of the public, the
alcade gave the death order, and made a sign to Montes to take his
_muleta_ and his sword, contrary to all the rules of Tauromachy,
which require that a bull shall have received at least four pairs
of _banderillas_ before being delivered up to the sword of the
_matador_.

Instead of advancing, according to his usual custom, into the
middle of the arena, Montes posted himself at the distance of some
twenty paces from the barrier, in order to have a place of refuge
in case of failure. He was very pale, and, without indulging in any
of those sportive acts and tricks of courage which have procured
him the admiration of all Spain, he displayed the scarlet _muleta_,
and called the bull, who required no pressing to come up to him.
Montes made two or three passes with his _muleta_, holding his
sword horizontally on a level with the monster's eyes; suddenly the
bull fell down, as if struck by lightning, and after giving one
convulsive start, expired. The sword had pierced his forehead and
entered his brain, contrary to the rules of the art, which require
the _matador_ to pass his arm between the horns of the animal, and
stab him between the nape of the neck and the shoulders, thereby
augmenting the danger of the man, but giving some chance to his
four-footed adversary.

When the public understood the blow, for all this had passed with
the rapidity of thought, one universal shout of indignation rose
from the _tendidos_ to the _palcos_; a storm of abuse and hisses,
accompanied by the most incredible tumult, burst forth on all
sides. "Butcher, assassin, brigand, thief, galley-slave, headsman!"
were the gentlest terms employed. "_A centa Montes!_ To the stake
with Montes! To the dogs with Montes! Death to the alcade!" were
the cries which were everywhere heard. Never did I behold such a
degree of fury, and I blush to own that I shared in it myself. Mere
vociferations, however, did not long suffice; the crowd commenced
throwing at the poor wretch fans, hats, sticks, jars full of water,
and pieces of the benches torn up for the purpose. There was still
one more bull to kill, but his death took place unperceived, in
the midst of the horrible tumult. It was Jose Para, the second
_espada_, who despatched the bull, with two very skilful thrusts.
As for Montes, he was livid; his face turned green with rage, and
his teeth made the blood start from his white lips, although he
displayed great calmness, and leant with affected gracefulness on
the hilt of his sword, the point of which, reddened against the
rules, he had wiped in the sand.

On what does popularity depend! On the first and second days of
the performance no person would ever have conceived it possible
that so sure an artist, one so certain of his public as Montes,
could be punished with such severity for an infraction of the
rules, which was, doubtless, called for by the most imperious
necessity, on account of the extraordinary agility, strength, and
fury, of the animal. When the fight was concluded, he got into a
calessin followed by his quadrille, and swearing by all that he
held sacred that he would never put his foot in Malaga again. I do
not know whether he has kept his word, and remembered the insults
of the last day longer than the triumphs and applause of the two
preceding ones. At present, I am of opinion that the public of
Malaga was unjust towards the great Montes de Chiclana, all whose
blows had been superbly aimed, and who, in every case of danger,
had displayed heroic coolness, and admirable address, so much so,
indeed, that the delighted audience had made him a present of all
the bulls he killed, and allowed him to cut off an ear of each, to
show that they were his property, and could not be claimed either
by the hospital or the proprietor of the circus.

We returned to our _parador_, giddy, intoxicated, and saturated
with violent emotion, hearing nothing, as we passed along the
streets, but the praises of the bull, and imprecations against
Montes.

The same evening, in spite of my fatigue, I procured a guide to
conduct me to the theatre, wishing to pass immediately from the
sanguinary reality of the circus to the intellectual emotions of
the stage. The contrast was striking; the one was full of life and
noise, the other was deserted and silent. The house was almost
empty, only a few spectators being scattered here and there over
the melancholy benches; and yet the entertainments consisted of
"The Lovers of Ternel," a drama by Don Juan Eugenio Hartzembusch,
and one of the most remarkable productions of the modern Spanish
school. It is the touching and poetical story of two lovers, who
remain unalterably faithful to one another, in spite of a thousand
various seductions and obstacles. Notwithstanding all the author's
endeavours--which are often very successful--to vary a situation
that is always the same, the piece would appear too simple to a
French audience. The passionate portions are treated with a great
deal of warmth and impulse, occasionally disfigured by a certain
melodramatic exaggeration, to which the author abandons himself
too easily. The love of the Sultana of Valencia for Isabel's
lover, Juan Diego Martinez Garces de Marsilla, whom she causes
to be drugged with a narcotic and brought into the harem; the
vengeance of this same Sultana when she sees that she is despised,
the guilty letters of Isabel's mother, which are found by Roderigo
d'Azagra, who uses them as a means of marrying the daughter, and
threatens to show them to the deceived husband, are, perhaps,
rather improbable incidents, but they afford an opportunity for
touching and dramatic scenes. The piece is written partly in verse
and partly in prose. As far as a foreigner can judge of the
style of a language, all the niceties of which he can never fully
appreciate, Hartzembusch's verses struck me as being superior to
his prose. They are free, bold, animated, and offer a great variety
in their form; they are also tolerably free from those poetical
amplifications into which the facility of their prosody often leads
the poets of southern countries. His prose dialogue appears to be
imitated from that of modern French melodramas, and offends by its
heavy, bombastic style. "The Lovers of Ternel" is really a literary
work, far superior to the translations, arranged, or deranged, from
the pieces played in the Boulevard theatres of Paris, and which
inundate the Peninsula. In "The Lovers of Ternel," you perceive
traces of the old ballads and great Spanish dramatists; and it is
greatly to be desired that the young poets on the other side the
Pyrenees would pursue this course rather than translate a quantity
of wretched melodramas into a Castilian more or less pure.

A very comic _saynete_ followed the serious piece. It set forth
the troubles of an old bachelor, who takes a pretty servant of
"all-work," as the advertisements say. The little rogue first
introduces as her brother a great strapping Valencian, six feet
high, with enormous whiskers, a tremendous _navaja_, an insatiable
appetite and inextinguishable thirst; she then brings into the
house a cousin, who is quite as wild a gentleman as her brother,
and is bristling with an unlimited number of blunderbusses,
pistols, and other dangerous arms. The said cousin is followed
by an uncle, who is a smuggler, and carries with him a complete
arsenal and a face to correspond, to the great terror of the
old man, who is very repentant for his improper levity. All
these various rascals were represented by the actors in the most
truthful and admirable manner. At last, a nephew appears, who is a
well-behaved young soldier, and delivers his uncle from the band of
ruffians who have taken up their quarters in his house, embraced
his servant while they were drinking his wine, smoked his cigars
and pillaged his dwelling. The uncle promises never to be served
for the future by any but old men-servants. The _saynetes_ resemble
our vaudevilles, but the plot is less complicated, sometimes
consisting merely of detached scenes, like the interludes in
Italian comedies.

The performances terminated with a _bayle nacional_, executed
by two couples of dancers and danseuses, in a very satisfactory
manner. Although the Spanish danseuses do not possess the
correct and accurate precision, or the elevated style of the
French danseuses, they are, in my opinion, vastly superior to
them by their graceful and fascinating appearance. As they study
but little, and do not subject themselves, in order to render
their bodies supple, to those terrible exercises which cause
a professional dancing-room to resemble a chamber of torture,
they avoid that race-horse sort of thinness which makes our
ballet-dancers look rather too deathlike and anatomical; they
preserve the outlines and fulness of their sex; they resemble women
dancing and not danseuses, which is a very different thing. Their
style has not anything in common with that of the French school. In
the latter, the immovability and perpendicularity of the upper part
of the body are expressly recommended, and the body never takes
part in the movement of the legs. In Spain, the feet hardly leave
the ground; there are none of those grand pirouettes or elevating
of the legs, which make a woman look like a pair of compasses
opened to their fullest extent, and which, in Spain, are considered
revoltingly indecent. It is the body which dances, the back which
undulates, the sides which bend, the waist which moves with all the
suppleness of an Almee or a serpent. When a Spanish danseuse throws
herself back, her shoulders almost touch the ground; her arms, in
a deathlike swoon, are as flexible and limp as a floating scarf;
you would think that her hands could scarcely raise and rattle
the ivory castagnettes with their golden strings, and yet, when
the proper moment is come, this voluptuous languor is succeeded
by the activity of a young African lion, proving that the body as
soft as silk envelopes muscles of steel. At the present day, the
Moorish Almees follow the same system; their dancing consists of a
series of harmoniously wanton undulations of the bust, the hips,
and the back, with the arms thrown back over the head. The Arabian
traditions have been preserved in the national dances, especially
those of Andalusia.

Although the Spanish male dancers are but mediocre, they have a
dashing, bold, and gallant bearing, which I greatly prefer to the
equivocal and vapid graces of ours. They are taken up neither by
themselves nor the public, and have not a look or a smile for any
one but their partner, of whom they appear passionately enamoured,
and whom they seem ready to defend against all comers. They possess
a ferocious kind of grace, a certain insolently daring demeanour,
which is peculiar to them. After wiping off their paint, they would
make excellent _banderilleros_, and might spring from the boards of
a theatre to the arena of the circus.

The _Malagueña_, which is a dance confined to Malaga, is really
most poetical and charming. The cavalier appears first, with his
_sombrero_ slouched over his eyes, and his scarlet cloak thrown
round him, like that of some hidalgo walking about in search of
adventures. The lady then enters, draped in her mantilla, and with
her fan in her hand, like a lady who is going to take a turn in
the _Almeda_. The cavalier endeavours to catch a glance of the
mysterious siren, but she manœuvres her fan so coquetishly, and so
well, she shuts and opens it so opportunely, she twists it about
so promptly on a level with her pretty face, that the gallant is
completely baffled, and retires a few steps to think of some new
stratagem. He rattles the castagnettes under his cloak. Directly
she hears them, the lady pricks up her ears; she smiles, her
breast heaves, and the tip of her little satin shoe marks the time
in spite of her; she throws aside her fan and her mantilla, and
appears in a gay dancing costume, glittering with spangles and
tinsel, with a rose in her hair, and a large tortoiseshell comb at
the back of her head. The cavalier then casts aside his mask and
cloak, and the two personages execute a deliciously original dance.

As I returned along the beach, and looked upon the sea which
reflected in its mirror of dark steel the pale visage of the moon,
I reflected on the contrast between the crowded circus and the
empty theatre,--on the eagerness displayed by the multitude for
brutal reality, and its indifference for the speculations of the
mind. As a poet, I could not help envying the gladiator, and I
regretted having given up action for reverie. The day before, at
the same theatre, they had played a piece of Lope de Vega, which
had not been more attractive than the work of the younger writer;
so that ancient genius and modern talent were not worth a thrust
from the sword of Montes!

Nor are the other theatres in Spain much better attended than that
at Malaga, not even the _Teatro del Principe_ in Madrid, although
there is a very great actor there,--namely, Julian Romea--and an
excellent actress, Matilde Diez. The course of the old Spanish
drama appears to be hopelessly dried up; and yet never did a
more copious stream flow in a broader channel,--never did there
exist a more profound and inexhaustible amount of fecundity. Our
most prolific vaudeville writers are still far behind Lope de
Vega, who never had any one to assist him, and whose works are so
numerous that the exact number is not known, and there is hardly a
complete copy of them to be found. Without including his comedies
_de cape et d'épée_, in which he has no rival, Calderon de la
Barca has written a multitude of _autos sacramentales_, which are
a kind of Roman-catholic mysteries, in which strange profundity
of thought and singularity of conception are united to the most
enchanting and luxuriously elegant poetry. It would require a
whole series of folio catalogues merely to enumerate the titles of
the pieces written by Lope de Rueda, Montalban, Guevara, Quevedo,
Tirso, Rojas, Moreto, Guilhen de Castro, Diamante, and a host of
others. The number of theatrical pieces written in Spain during
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries surpasses all that we
can imagine: we might as well endeavour to count the leaves in
the forest or the grains of sand upon the sea-shore. They are
almost all composed in verse of eight feet, varied by assonants,
and printed in two columns quarto, with a coarse engraving as a
frontispiece, each forming a book of from six to eight leaves.
The booksellers' shops are full of them; thousands may be seen
hung up pell-mell in the midst of the ballads and legends in verse
sold at the bookstalls in the streets. Without any exaggeration,
the epigram written on a too prolific Roman poet, who was, after
his death, burnt upon a funereal pile formed of his own books,
might be applied to most of the Spanish dramatic authors. They
possess a fertility of invention, an abundance of incidents, and
a complication of plot, of which no one can form any idea. Long
before Shakspeare the Spaniards invented the Drama; their works are
dramatic in the broadest acceptation of the word; and, with the
exception of some few erudite puerilities, they copy neither from
the Greeks nor the Romans, but, as Lope de Vega says in his "Arte
Nuevo de hacer Comedias in este Tiempo,"--

      " ... Cuando he de escribir una comedia
      Encierro los preceptos con seis llaves."

Spanish dramatic authors do not seem to have paid much attention
to the delineation of character, although fine, cutting instances
of observation are to be met with in each scene. But man is not
studied philosophically; and in their dramas you seldom find
those episodical figures so frequent in England's great tragic
poet,--those life-like sketches which are only indirectly connected
with the action of the piece, and have no other object than that
of presenting another phase of the human soul, another original
individuality, or reflection of the poet's mind. The Spanish author
rarely allows the public to perceive anything of his own peculiar
character until he asks pardon, at the conclusion of the drama, for
the faults of which he has been guilty.

The _primum mobile_ in Spanish pieces is the point of honour.

      "Los Cusos de la honra son mejores,
      Porque mueven con fuerza a toda gente,
      Con ellos las acciones virtuosas
      Que la virtud es donde quiera amada,"

says Lope de Vega, who was a pretty good judge in the matter,
and did not fail to follow his own precept. The point of honour
played the same part in the Spanish comedies as Fatality did
in the tragedies of the Greeks. Its inflexible laws and cruel
alternatives easily gave rise to dramatic scenes of deep interest.
_El Pundonor_, which was a kind of chivalric religion, with its
own laws, subtleties, and niceties, is far superior to the Ἀνάγκη,
or Fatality of the ancients, whose blow fell blindly, and by mere
chance, on the innocent, as well as on the guilty. When a person
reads the Greek tragic authors, his mind frequently revolts at
the situation of the hero, who is equally guilty, whether he
acts or no; but the point of honour of the Castilians is always
perfectly logical, and consonant with itself. Besides, it is only
an exaggerated representative of all human virtues carried to the
highest pitch of susceptibility. In his most horrible fits of rage,
and in his most frightful acts of revenge, the hero maintains a
noble and solemn attitude. It is always in the name of loyalty,
conjugal fidelity, respect for his ancestors, and the honour of
his name, that he draws his iron-hilted sword, frequently against
those whom he loves with all his soul, and whom he is compelled by
stern necessity to immolate. From this struggle of the passions
with the point of honour springs the interest of most of the pieces
of the old Spanish theatre, a profound and sympathetic interest
keenly felt by the spectators, who in a similar position would
not have acted otherwise than the personages of the drama. We can
no longer be astonished at the prodigious fertility of the old
dramatists of the Peninsula, when we reflect upon the inexhaustible
nature of their subject, which was so well suited to the manners
of the times. Another source of interest, not less rich, was found
in virtuous actions, chivalric devotion, sublime self-abnegation,
supernatural passion, and ideal delicacy, resisting the most
skilfully-combined plots, and the most complicated intrigues. In
cases of this description, the poet seems to have undertaken the
task of representing to the spectators a finished model of human
perfection, heaping on the head of his prince or princess all the
good qualities on which he can lay his hand, and making them more
careful of their purity than the white ermine, who prefers death to
a single spot upon its snow-like fur.

A profound sentiment of catholicism and feudal customs pervades the
whole Spanish theatre, which is truly national, both in matter and
form. The division of the pieces into three days adopted by the
Spanish authors, is certainly the most reasonable and most logical.
Every well-constructed dramatic piece naturally consists of the
exposition, the complicated consequences arising therefrom, and the
unravelling of the same. This is an arrangement we should do well
to adopt, in place of the ancient form in five acts, two of which
are often useless, the second and the fourth.

It must not, however, be supposed that the old Spanish pieces were
exclusively sublime. The grotesque, that indispensable element of
mediæval art, is often introduced under the form of the _gracioso_,
or _bobo_ (simpleton), who enlivens the serious portion of the
action by pleasantries and jokes more or less broad, producing,
in contrast to the hero, the same effect as the misshapen dwarfs
playing, in their many-coloured doublets, with greyhounds bigger
than themselves, as we see them represented by the side of kings
and princes, in the old pictures of public galleries.

Moratin, the author of the "Si de las Niñas" and "El Café,"
whose tombs may be seen in Père la Chaise at Paris, was the last
reflection of dramatic art in Spain, just as the old painter Goya,
who died at Bordeaux, in 1828, was the last whom we could look on
as a descendant of the great Velasquez.

At present, hardly anything else is played in Spanish theatres but
translations of French dramas and vaudevilles. At Jaen, in the
very heart of Andalusia, they give "Le Sonneur de Saint Paul;" at
Cadiz, which is but two steps from Africa, "Le Gamin de Paris."
The "Saynetes," which were formerly so gay and so original, and
possessing such a strong local tinge, are at present nothing save
imitations of the repertory of the Théâtre des Variétés. Not to
speak of Don Martinez de la Rosa, and Don Antonio Gil y Zarate, who
already belong to a less recent period, the Peninsula can still
boast of several young and talented authors of great promise; but
public attention in Spain, as in France, is diverted from the stage
by the gravity of political events. Hartzembusch, the author of
the "Lovers of Ternel;" Castro y Orozco, to whose pen we owe "Fray
Luis de Leon, or the Age and the World;" Zorilla, who brought out
successfully the drama of "El Rey y el Zapatero;" Breton de los
Herreros, the Duke de Rivas, Larra, who committed suicide for love;
Espronceda, whose death has just been announced in the papers, and
whose writings were characterized by a wild and passionate energy,
sometimes worthy of his model, Byron, are--alas! in speaking of the
last two we must say, were, men of great literary merit, ingenious,
elegant, and easy poets, who might take their places by the side
of the old masters, did they not want what we all want,--namely, a
sure and certain point to start from, a stock of ideas common both
to them and the public. The point of honour and the heroism of the
old pieces are either no longer understood or appear ridiculous,
and the belief of modern times is not sufficiently definite to
enable poets to describe it in their verse.

We must not, therefore, be too severe in judging the crowd, who
rush to the bull-ring and seek for emotion where it is to be
found; after all, it is not the people's fault that the stage
is not more attractive; all the worse for us poets, if we allow
ourselves to be beaten by the gladiators. In conclusion, it is more
healthy both for the mind and the body to see a brave man kill a
savage beast beneath the canopy of heaven, than to listen to an
actor without talent singing some obscene vaudeville, or spouting a
number of sophisticated lines before a row of smoky footlights.

CHAPTER XII.

FROM MALAGA TO SEVILLE.

  The Four-wheeled Galera--Caratraca--The "Mayoral"--Ecija--The
  "Calle de los Caballeros"--La Carlotta--Cordova--The Archangel
  Raphael--The Mosque--Caliph Abderama--The Guadalquiver--Road to
  Seville.

As yet we were only acquainted with the _galera_ on two wheels; we
now had the pleasure of making a trial of one on four. An amiable
vehicle of this description happened to be about starting for
Cordova; it was already occupied with a Spanish family, and we
helped to fill it still more. Just fancy rather a low wagon, with
its sides formed of a number of wooden spokes at a considerable
distance from each other, and having no bottom save a strip of
spartum on which the trunks and packages are heaped, without much
attention to the irregularities of surface which they may present.
Above the luggage are thrown two or three mattresses, or, to speak
more correctly, two or three linen sacks, in which a few tufts of
wool but very slightly carded, float about, and on these mattresses
the unfortunate travellers are stretched transversely, in a
position very similar (excuse the triviality of the comparison)
to that of calves that are being carried to market. The only
difference is, that the travellers do not have their feet tied,
but their situation is not much more comfortable for all that. The
top consists of a coarse cloth, stretched on wooden hoops, and the
whole machine is driven by a _mayoral_ and dragged by four mules.

Our fellow-travellers consisted of the family of an engineer,
who was rather a well educated man, and spoke very good French.
They were accompanied by a tall, villanous, fantastic-looking
individual, who had formerly been a brigand in Jose Maria's gang,
and who was now a superintendent of mines. This gentleman followed
the _galera_ on horseback, with a knife stuck in his girdle and a
carbine slung at his saddle-bow. The engineer appeared to entertain
a high opinion of him, and spoke in very favourable terms of
his probity, of which he was perfectly convinced in spite of
the superintendent's old trade. It is true that in speaking of
Jose Maria himself, he told me several times that he was a brave
and worthy man. This opinion, which would strike us as slightly
paradoxical in the case of a highway robber, is that of the most
honourable persons in Andalusia. On this point, Spain is still
Arabian, and brigands very frequently are looked upon as heroes.
This is less strange than it may at first appear, especially in
southern countries, where men's minds are so easily acted on. Is it
not certain that the contempt of death, audacity, coolness, bold
and prompt determination, address, and bodily strength, and all
the kind of grandeur which belongs to a man who revolts against
society, as well as the qualities which exercise so great an
influence over minds as yet but little civilized, are exactly those
which constitute great characters, and is the people so very wrong
in admiring them in these energetic individuals, even although they
employ them in a reprehensible manner?

The cross-road along which we were journeying ascended and
descended rather abruptly through a country dented with hills and
furrowed by narrow valleys, the bottom of which was occupied by
the dry beds of torrents, and bristling with enormous stones that
jolted us most atrociously, and elicited loud screams from the
women and children. On our road we noticed some admirably coloured
and poetical effects of sunset. The mountains in the distance
assumed a variety of purple and violet hues, tinged with gold,
of the most extraordinary warmth and intensity, while the total
absence of vegetation imparted to the whole scene, consisting
exclusively of ground and sky, a look of grand nudity and savage
severity that is to be found in no other country, and which no
painter has yet transferred to canvass. We halted for a few hours
at nightfall, in a little hamlet of three or four houses, in
order to rest our mules and obtain some refreshment: but with the
thoughtlessness of true French travellers, although a sojourn of
five months in Spain ought to have rendered us more prudent, we had
brought nothing with us from Malaga, and the consequence was that
we were obliged to sup on dry bread and white wine, which a woman
in the _posada_ was obliging enough to procure for us, for Spanish
safes and cellars do not participate in that horror which Nature is
said to entertain for a vacuum, but contain nothing with the most
perfect tranquillity of conscience.

About one o'clock in the morning we set out again; and, in spite
of the awful jolting, of the engineer's children rolling over us,
and of the knocks that our heads received from bumping against
the spokes of the wagon, we soon fell asleep. When the sun came
and tickled our noses with one of his rays, as with a golden
ear of corn, we were near Caratraca, an insignificant village
which is not marked in the map, and which is only remarkable for
its sulphurous springs, which are very beneficial in diseases
of the skin, and attract to this remote spot a population that
is rather suspicious and not calculated to prove very desirable
company. Gambling is carried on there to a frightful extent, and
although it was still very early, the cards and ounces of gold were
passing from hand to hand. It was something hideous to see these
invalids with their green, cadaverous faces, rendered still more
ugly by rapacity, slowly stretching out their fingers and seizing
convulsively their prey. The houses of Caratraca, like those of
all Andalusian villages, are whitewashed; and this, in conjunction
with the bright colour of the tiles, the festoons of the vines,
and the shrubs growing around, gives them a comfortable, holiday
look, very different from the picture we are accustomed to draw, in
other parts of Europe, of Spanish filth; this notion is generally
false, and the fact of its ever having been entertained can only be
attributed to some miserable hamlets in Castile, whose wretchedness
is equalled and even surpassed by some that we possess in Brittany.

In the courtyard of the inn, our attention was attracted by a
number of coarse frescoes, representing, with primitive simplicity,
bull-fights: round the pictures were _coplas_ in honour of Paquirro
Montes and his quadrille. The name of Montes enjoys the same kind
of universal popularity in Andalusia as that of Napoleon does with
us; walls, fans, and snuff-boxes are ornamented with his portrait;
and the English, who always turn the public taste--whatever it may
be--to good account, send from Gibraltar thousands of handkerchiefs
with red, violet, and yellow printed portraits of the celebrated
_matador_, accompanied by verses in his praise.

Remembering our famished condition the night before, we purchased
some provisions from our host, and among other articles, a ham, for
which he made us pay an exorbitant price. A great deal has been
said about highway robberies, but it is not on the highway that
the danger exists; it is at the road-side, in the inns, that you
are robbed and pillaged with the most perfect safety to those that
plunder you, without your possessing the right of having recourse
to your weapons of defence, and discharging your carbine at the
waiter who brings you your bill. I pity the brigands from the
bottom of my heart; such landlords as those in Spain do not leave
much for them, and only deliver travellers into their hands, like
so many lemons with the juice squeezed out. In other countries,
landlords make you pay a high price for the things with which they
supply you, but in Spain you pay for the absence of everything
with its weight in gold.

After we had taken our siesta, the mules were put to the _galera_,
each person resumed his place, the _escopetero_ bestrode his little
mountain-steed, the _mayoral_ laid in a stock of small flint-stones
to hurl at the ears of his mules, and we set out once more on our
journey. The country through which we passed was savage without
being picturesque. We beheld nothing but bare, naked, sterile,
rugged hills, stony torrent-beds, like scars made in the ground
by the winter's rains, and woods of olive-trees, whose pale
foliage, powdered over with dust, did not suggest the least idea
of refreshing verdure. Here and there, on the gaping sides of the
rocks of turf and chalk, was a solitary tuft of fennel, whitened
by the heat; on the powdery road were the marks of serpents and
vipers, while, over the whole, was a sky as glowing as the roof of
an oven and not a gust of wind, not even so much as the slightest
breath of air! The grey sand which was raised by the hoofs of the
mules fell again without the least eddy to the ground. You might
have made iron red-hot in the sun, which darted its rays on the
cloth covering of our _galera_, in which we were ripening like
melons under a glass frame. From time to time, we got out and
walked a short distance, keeping in the shade projected by the body
of the horse or the wagon; when we had stretched our legs somewhat,
we would scramble in again, slightly crushing the children and
their mother, for we could not reach our seats except by crawling
on all fours under the elliptical arch formed by the tilted roof
of the _galera_. By dint of crossing quagmires and ravines, and
making short cuts over fields, we lost our way. Our _mayoral_, in
the hope of coming into the right road again, still went on, as
if he was perfectly aware where he was going, for _corsarios_ and
guides will never own that they have lost themselves till they are
reduced to extremities, and have taken you five or six leagues out
of the right direction. I must, in justice, say, however, that
nothing could be easier than to lose oneself on this fabulous road,
which was scarcely marked out, and intersected every moment by
deep ravines. At length we found ourselves in the midst of large
fields, dotted here and there by olive-trees, with misshapen,
dwarfish trunks, and frightful forms, without the slightest signs
of a human habitation or a living being. Since the morning, we had
met only one half-naked _muchacho_ driving before him, in a cloud
of dust, half-a-dozen black pigs. Night set in, and, to augment
our misfortunes, there was no moon, so that we had nothing but the
uncertain light of the stars to guide us.

The _mayoral_ left his seat every instant to feel the ground with
his hands, in the hopes of finding some rut or wheelmark which
might direct him to the right road, but all his efforts were in
vain, and, greatly against his inclination, he was under the
necessity of informing us that he had lost his way, and did not
know where he was: he could not understand it; he had made the
journey twenty times, and would have undertaken to go to Cordova
with his eyes shut. All this appeared rather suspicious, and the
idea then struck us that we were, perhaps, purposely brought there
in order to be attacked and plundered. Our situation was not an
agreeable one, even supposing this were not the case; we were
benighted in a remote spot, far from all human help, in a country
which enjoys the reputation of concealing more robbers than all
the other provinces of Spain united. These reflections doubtlessly
suggested themselves also to the minds of the engineer and his
friend, the former associate of Jose Maria, who, of course, was
not a bad judge in such matters, for they silently loaded their
own carbines with ball, and performed the same operation on two
others that were placed inside the _galera_; they then handed us
one apiece without uttering a syllable, a mode of proceeding that
was exceedingly eloquent. The _mayoral_ was thus left without
arms, and, even had he been in collusion with the brigands, was
reduced to a state of helplessness. However, after wandering
about at hazard, during two or three hours, we perceived a light
glittering like a glow-worm under the branches, at a long distance
from us. We immediately adopted it as our polar star, and started
off towards it in as direct a line as possible, at the risk of
being overturned every moment. Sometimes a rise in the ground would
conceal it from our eyes, and all nature seemed to be extinguished.
Suddenly it would again appear, and our hopes returned with it. At
last we arrived sufficiently near a farm-house to distinguish the
windows, which was the sky in which our star was shining under the
form of a copper lamp. A number of the peculiar wagons drawn by
oxen, and of agricultural instruments, scattered here and there,
completely restored our confidence, for we were not, at first,
sure that we had not fallen into some den of thieves, some _posada
de barrateros_. The dogs, having smelt us out, began barking