I took my seat in the waggon at four in the morning, and the day dawned about half an hour after leaving Audujar. The whole way to Cordova, the road lies through the extensive plain that borders the Guadalquivir:—this plain is chiefly divided between wheat and olives; the latter forming a complete forest a few leagues from Andujar:—they are the property of the Duke of Medina Cœli, who is said to be the only man in Spain who waters his olives. The river flows at about a mile distant, and the whole of the olive land is subjected to irrigation by means of machinery, which raises the water into channels and wooden troughs laid for it. I learned that the Duke finds his advantage in this system, having frequently fine olive crops when other proprietors have none. The wheat crops raised upon this plain are of the finest quality, but only one crop is expected. There can be no doubt, however, that if the wheat land were also subjected to the process of irrigation, as in Valencia and Murcia, more than one crop might be obtained from the soil. The road, in approaching Cordova, is bordered on either side by magnificent hedges of aloe. I had the curiosity to measure some of these, and found several leaves eleven and twelve feet long, and the stalks of the flower from twenty-four to thirty feet high. The aloe is a useful plant to the natives. Ropes are made from the fibres of the leaves; and the stalks of the flowers are cut into light beams for constructing cottages. The wild olive, which grows in great abundance in this district, is also a useful tree, although its fruit be worthless; the wood is among the hardest known, and is much used in agricultural implements, particularly in the construction of cart wheels.
I approached Cordova under all the advantages of a most glorious sunset, which bathed in gold the numerous towers and minarets of this ancient Moorish capital, long the nursery and favourite shelter of the arts and sciences, and the birth-place of Seneca and Lucan. The situation of Cordova is truly delightful. East and west flows the Guadalquivir,—the level stripe that lies along its banks, rich in every production that is congenial to the climate of Andalusia; a range of low hills wooded to the summit, and diversified by gardens, orange groves, and country houses, stretch, parallel with the river, bounding the prospect to the south; while the elevated chain of the Sierra Morena, pushes forward its picturesque outposts almost to the walls of the city. But situation is the only glory of Cordova that remains. Science has found other sanctuaries, and riches new channels; and modern Cordova is one of the most decayed, most deserted, and most miserable cities of Spain. Cordova, when metropolis of the kingdom of Abdoulraman, in 759, is said to have contained three hundred thousand persons; forty years ago it contained thirty-four thousand; and since then, twelve thousand more must be deducted from the number of its inhabitants; and of the twenty-two thousand yet remaining, upwards of three thousand are shut in by convent walls. The inhabitants live entirely by agriculture,—for, with the exception of a very trifling manufactory of linen, there is no trade of any description. At a moderate distance from the city are some lead mines, said to be well worth the notice of the capitalist. I met an English gentleman resident at Cordova, who has lately begun to work one of these mines under a sufficiently advantageous contract: he told me that the only thing he had to contend with, was the expense of carriage as far as Seville; the wages of labour were only four reals, about 9d.; and if there was water conveyance from Cordova to Seville, he could secure a highly profitable return. The Guadalquivir, however, is not navigable; and without this facility of transit, I believe the speculation is doubtful. Every thing is remarkably cheap in Cordova. Beef is fourteen quartos the pound of thirty-two ounces. Mutton, sixteen quartos. Fine bread, six quartos. The ordinary wages of agricultural labour do not exceed three reals.
The great attraction of Cordova is its mosque,—once, second only to that of Mecca. It is curious, but not beautiful or striking; the interest arises chiefly from the knowledge we obtain from it of the structure and interior of a mosque. Divested of this interest, it is a labyrinth of small pillars, without order or elegance: the area is indeed immensely large, being no less than five hundred and twelve feet long, by four hundred and twenty-three broad; but the multitude of pillars injures the general effect; and the erection of an altar in the centre, where nothing was ever intended to be, destroys its unity as a mosque, without substituting any of the grandeur of a Christian temple. There is one beautiful Moorish relic however, which, of itself, well repays a visit to this curious remain of other and brighter days. This is the chapel of Mahomet, which was accidentally laid open in the year 1815, by the removal of some old brick-work. It is in the most perfect state of preservation. The Arabic characters upon the cornices, and the colours in which these are inscribed, are as perfect and as vivid as if it were all the work of yesterday. The gilding too, and the mosaic, have lost nothing of their freshness. Close by the mosque, upon a stone platform above the river, there is a monument to the angel Raphael, the guardian angel of the city. A certain devout archbishop, who held the see of Cordova many years ago, dreamt that the angel Raphael appeared to him, and declared himself guardian of the city; and the archbishop commemorated his dream by the erection of a handsome monument. Such expensive dreams have gone out of fashion now-a-days.
From Cordova, I resolved to travel to Seville by the diligence; and finding a vacant place in the coupé, I left Cordova at one o’clock next day. The views are very charming in leaving Cordova; fine vistas are caught among the neighbouring mountains, from which, embowered in wood, several convents look down upon the plain. I saw here, for the first time, the date tree, which in the kingdoms of Valencia and Murcia, adds so great a charm to the landscape: two of them were seen towering far above all the surrounding trees, in a convent garden,—their tall stems, and fan-like branches, carrying me in fancy, to the tent of the wandering Arab, and the fountains of the desert. All the way from Cordova to Carlotta, the country is well cultivated and well wooded; and to a great distance on every side of this newest of the new settlements, neat white cottages are scattered over the plain. Carlotta, itself, is a remarkably pretty town; and the inhabitants looked clean and well fed. We arrived at Ecija about seven o’clock, after crossing the Xenil by a fine bridge, and found an excellent posada, and a supper that would have done honour to a French table. We were also regaled by the most delicious perfume; for the walls of the patio were entirely covered with jasmine, of a luxuriance and fragrance beyond any thing that I had ever seen elsewhere; every blossom was larger than the largest periwinkle. I had sufficient time and light, before supper, to stroll through the town, which is more flourishing, and even more populous than Cordova. Returning to the posada by the Plaza Mayor, a fine spacious square, with a double row of balconies the whole way round, I stepped into a barber’s shop, and while he was preparing his implements, I ventured to ask him if he had heard the news? “What news?” said he. “Why,” replied I, “that with the assistance of God, the king’s troops have defeated and taken prisoners the whole army of refugees.” I was not aware of any such news, but I wished to hear the sentiments of an Andalusian. “Thank God! thank God!” said he, “and so we shall be allowed to live in our own way after all.”
I left Ecija at an early hour next morning, with the pleasant assurance that I should dine in Seville. A remarkably wild country stretches between Ecija and Carmona—most of it is crown land—and I believe few serious attempts have been made to people and fertilize it. Robberies had lately been very frequently committed upon the extensive heath that stretches almost to the foot of the hill upon which Carmona stands; and I noticed several crosses, two of them evidently of recent erection. The situation of Carmona is particularly striking, looking down from its isolated hill over the plains of Andalusia; a very winding road leads up to the city; but I left the carriage and walked straight up the hill to the gate, which I had sufficient time to examine and admire as a fine Moorish remain;—because the sentinel would not allow me to enter until the diligence arrived. At Carmona I found the luxury of café au lait, for the first time since leaving France; and we were soon again on the road to Seville.
Between Carmona and Seville, there is little to interest, excepting the increasing excitement in approaching nearer and nearer to famous Seville, the capital of the south of Spain. At Alcala, the nearest town to Seville, and which may be called its bake-house—since almost all the bread generally used there is made at Alcala—we stopped to change horses; and, not long after leaving this town, upon reaching the brow of a ridge, Seville, queen of Andalusia, was seen amidst her orange groves, swaying her sceptre over a dominion of luxuriance and beauty, and circled by the broad glittering waters of the Guadalquivir.
I reached the city soon after mid-day, and immediately established myself in the house of a private family, in the neighbourhood of the alcazar and the cathedral.
CHAPTER XIII.
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SEVILLE.
Madrid not the sole Capital of Spain; Peculiarities of Seville; Moorish Customs; the Streets; the Population; Manner of Living in Andalusia; Society; Morals; the Archbishop; the Dean; the Convents; frequency of Murder in Andalusia, and its Causes; Serenading; Superstition in Seville, and Examples of it; extraordinary Facts; the Paseo; Andalusian Women; Oracion; Las Delicias; Orange-Groves; Details respecting the Orange Trade of Seville; the Cathedral; the Capuchin Convent, La Caridad, and Murillo’s Pictures; Private Collections; the Alcazar and its Gardens; the Tobacco Manufactory; Roman Remains; Seville as a Residence; Prices of Provisions; Descent of the Guadalquivir, and its Banks; Optic Deception; St. Lucar; Night Journey; Port St. Mary; the Bay of Cadiz, and the City.
Spain is the only country in Europe, that contains more than one capital. London is the capital, and the only capital of England; and Paris is the sole capital of France. Bourdeaux, indeed, or Marseilles, may be called capitals of the west and south of France; and Liverpool is sometimes called the metropolis of the west of England: but these are only small editions of the great capital. The general appearance of all the cities is the same; and in dress and manners, the inhabitants of the smaller cities differ in nothing from the inhabitants of the acknowledged metropolis of the kingdom. But in Spain, one city does not represent the whole nation. In dress, usages, morals, as well as in the general aspect of external things, all those provinces which remained during the longest period subject to the dominion of the Moors, possess essential and characteristic distinctions; and Madrid, although nominally the capital of all Spain, is, in fact, but the metropolis of the two Castiles. Seville is the capital of the south, and Valencia of the east of Spain.