Excursions in the mountains of Ronda and Granada, with characteristic sketches of the inhabitants of southern Spain, vol. 2/2

by C. Rochfort‏ Scott

In fine, for one whose time is not fully occupied by business, I know of few less agreeable places of residence than Cadiz. The transient visiter, who prolongs his stay beyond two days, will find time hang very heavy on his hands; for having, in that short space, seen all the place contains, he will be driven to wile away the tedious hours after the usual manner of its inhabitants, viz., by devoting the morning to the cafés and billiard-rooms, the afternoon to the siesta, evening to the Alameda, dusk to the Plaza San Antonio and its Neverias,[30] and night to the Tertulias—for such is the life of a Spanish man of pleasure!

The hospitable mansion of the British Consul General affords those who have the good fortune to possess his acquaintance a happy relief from this monotonous and wearisome life; and, besides meeting there the best society the place affords, the lovers of the fine arts will derive much gratification from the inspection of Mr. Brackenbury’s picture gallery, which contains many choice paintings of Murillo, and the best Spanish Masters.

What few other good paintings Cadiz possesses are scattered amongst private houses. The churches contain none of any merit. In one of the Franciscan convents, however, is to be seen a painting that excites much interest, as being the last which occupied the pencil of Murillo, though it was not finished by him. Our conductor told me that a most distinguished English nobleman had offered 500 guineas for it, but the pious monks refused to sell it to a heretic!—Perhaps, His Grace did not know before on what conscientious grounds his liberal offer had been declined.

The old Cathedral is not worth visiting. The new one, as it is called, was commenced in the days of the city’s prosperity; but the source from whence the funds for building it were raised, failed ere it was half finished; and there it stands, a perfect emblem of Spain herself!—a pile of the most valuable materials, planned on a scale of excessive magnificence, but put together without the slightest taste, and falling to decay for want of revenue![31]

The walls of the city—excepting those of its land front, which are remarkably well constructed, and kept in tolerable order—are in a deplorable state of dilapidation, and in some places the sea has undermined, and made such breaches in them, as even to threaten the very existence of the city, should it be exposed to a tempest similar to that which did so much mischief to it some seventy years since. This decay is particularly observable, too, on the south side of the fortress, where the sea-wall is exposed to the full sweep of the Atlantic; and here the mischief has resulted chiefly from the want of timely attention to its repairs, for the wall itself is a perfect masterpiece of the building art. Regarding it as such, I venture to devote a small space to its description, conceiving that a hint may be advantageously taken therefrom in the future construction of piers, wharfs, &c. in our own country; and I am the more induced to do so, since so small a portion of the work remains in its pristine state, that it already must be spoken of rather as a thing that has been, than one which is.

The great object of the builder was to secure the foundation of his wall from the assaults of the ocean, which, at times, breaks with excessive violence upon this coast. For this purpose, he formed an artificial beach, by clearing away the loose rocks which lay strewed about, and inserting in the space thus prepared and levelled, a strong wooden frame-work formed of cases dovetailed into and well fastened to each other. These cases were filled with stones, and secured by numerous piles. The surface was composed of beams of wood, placed close together, carefully caulked, and laid so as to form an inclined plane, at an angle of eight degrees and a half with the horizon.

This beach extended twenty-seven yards from the sea-wall; and its foot, by resting against a kind of breakwater formed of large stones, was saved from being exposed, vertically, to the action of the sea. The waves, thus broke upon the artificial beach, and running up its smooth surface without meeting the slightest resistance, expended, in a great measure, their strength ere reaching the foot of the wall.

To avoid, however, the shock which would still have been felt by the waves breaking against the ramparts, (especially when the sea was unusually agitated) had the planes of the beach and wall met at an angle, the upper portion of the surface of the artificial beach—for about fifteen feet—was laid with large blocks of stone, and united in a curve, or inverted arch, with the casing of the walls of the rampart; and the waves being, by this means, conducted upwards, without experiencing a check, spent their remaining strength in the air, and fell back upon the wooden beach in a harmless shower of spray.

So well was the work executed, that many portions of the arch which connected the beach with the scarped masonry of the rampart are yet perfect, and may be seen projecting from the face of the wall, about twenty feet above its foundation; although the beach upon which it rested has been entirely swept away.

Another cause, besides neglect, has contributed greatly to the destruction of this work; namely, the injudicious removal of the stones and ledges of rock which formed the breakwater of the beach, for erecting houses and repairing the walls of the city.