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

by C. Rochfort‏ Scott

The whole of the shelves, drawers, &c., are of cedar; a wood which has the property of preserving the papers committed to their charge from all descriptions of insects. The floors are laid in chequers of red and blue marble, and the grand staircase is composed of the same, which is highly polished and remarkably handsome. One of the apartments of the vast quadrangle contains two original paintings of Columbus and Hernan Cortes.

A little removed from the Lonja, is the Alcazar, or Royal Palace. This is kept up in a kind of half-dress state, and has a governor appointed to its peculiar charge, who usually resides within its precincts. It is built in the Moorish style, and is generally supposed to have been the work of Moorish hands, though raised only—so at least a Gothic inscription on its walls is said to state—by “the puissant King of Castile and Leon, Don Pedro.”

There is probably some little exaggeration in this, and, in point of fact, perhaps, the mighty monarch only repaired and added to the palace of the Moorish kings, which the neglect of a hundred years had, in his time, rendered uninhabitable. It is a very inferior piece of workmanship to the Alhambra, but, nevertheless, contains much to admire, particularly the ceilings of the apartments (of which there are upwards of seventy), and the walls of one of the courts.

The different towers command very fine views over the city and adjacent country, and the gardens are delightful, though of but small extent. The walks are laid with tiles, between which little tubes are introduced vertically, that communicate with waterpipes underneath, and, by merely turning a screw, the whole of the valves of these tubes are simultaneously opened, and each shoots forth a diminutive stream of water. This plan was adopted, as being an improvement on the tedious method usually practised in watering gardens. It affords the facetiously disposed a glorious opportunity of inflicting a practical joke upon unwary visiters to the Alcazar; who, conducted to the garden, and then and there seduced, out of mere politeness, to join in the complaint expressed of a want of rain, suddenly find themselves over a heavy shower, and under the necessity of laughing at a piece of wit from which there is no possibility of escape.

The Casa Pilata is another of the sights of Seville. It is a private house, said to be built on the exact model of that of the Roman governor of Jerusalem. It is fitted up with much taste, but its chief beauty consists in a profusion of glazed tiles, which give it actual coolness, as well as a refreshing look.

Most of the other subjects worthy of the traveller’s notice are situated without the walls of the city. The first in order, issuing from the Xeres gate, is the Plaza de los Toros, or amphitheatre, an immense circus, one half built of stone, and the other half of wood, and capable of accommodating 14,000 persons. The next remarkable object is the Royal Tobacco Manufactory, (the term seems rather absurd to English ears,) a huge edifice, so strongly built, and jealously defended by walls and ditches, as to appear rather a detached fort, or citadel, raised to overawe the turbulent city, than an establishment for peacefully grinding tobacco leaves into snuff, and rolling them into cigars. The manufactory employs 5000 persons, and of this number 2600 are occupied solely in making cigars. But, as I have elsewhere shown, even with the assistance of the Royal Manufactory lately established at Malaga, the supply of lawful cigars is not equal to one-tenth part of the consumption of the country.

The demand for snuff may probably be fully met by the Royal Manufactory; for the Spaniards are not great consumers of tobacco through the medium of the nose; and most of the snuffs prepared at Seville are extremely pungent, so that “a little goes a great way.” There is a coarse kind, however, called, I think, “Spanish bran,” which is much esteemed by connoisseurs.

The Royal Cannon Foundry is in the vicinity of the Tobacco Manufactory, and though this establishment for furnishing the means of consuming powder is not in such activity as its neighbour employed in supplying food for smoke, yet it is in equally good order, and, on the whole, is a very creditable national establishment. The brass pieces made here are remarkably handsome, and very correctly bored, but they want the lightness and finish of our guns—qualities in which English artillery excels all others. Two of the “monster mortars,” cast by the French for the siege of Cadiz, are still preserved here.

The Cavalry Barracks, Royal Saltpetre Manufactory, Military Hospital, and various other edifices, planned on a scale proportioned to Spain’s former greatness, together with numerous convents, equally disproportioned to her present wants, follow in rapid succession in completing the circuit of the walls. The most interesting amongst the religious houses is a convent of Capuchins, situated near the Cordoba gate. It contains twenty-five splendid paintings by Murillo, “any one of which,” as a modern writer has justly remarked, “would suffice to render a man immortal.”

Murillo was certainly a perfect master of his art. His style is peculiar, and in his early productions there is a coldness and formality that partake of the school of Velasquez; but the works of his maturer age are distinguished by a boldness of outline, a gracefulness of grouping, and a depth and softness of colouring, which entitle him to rank with Rubens and Correggio.