Wanderings in Spain

by Théophile Gautier

After so complete a study of the Œnology of Jeres, the difficulty was to regain our carriage with a sufficiently upright and majestic bearing, so as not to compromise France in the eyes of Spain; it was a question of national pride; to fall or not to fall, that was the question on the present occasion, a question which was rather more embarrassing than that which so greatly perplexed the Prince of Denmark. I must say, however, with a degree of very legitimate self-approbation, that we walked to our calessin in a very satisfactory state of perpendicularity, and represented our well-beloved country with great glory in this struggle with the most heady wine of Spain. Thanks to the rapid evaporation produced by a heat of thirty-eight or forty degrees, on our return to Puerto, we were perfectly capable of discussing the most delicate points of psychology, and duly appreciating the various incidents of the bull-fight. Most of the bulls were embalados, that is to say, they had balls at the ends of their horns; two only were killed, but we were highly amused by a variety of burlesque episodes with which the proceedings were enlivened. The picadores, who were dressed like Turks at a masquerade, with Mameluke trousers of cambric muslin, and large suns on the back of their jackets, reminded us most forcibly of those outrageous Moors whom Goya represents with three or four strokes of the graver in his plates of the Toromaquia. One of these worthies, while waiting for his turn to attack the bull, blew his nose in the end of his turban with the most admirable philosophy and coolness. A barco de vapor, made of wickerwork, covered with cloth, and manned by a crew of asses, decorated with red braces, and wearing, somehow or other, cocked hats on their heads, was pushed into the middle of the arena. The bull rushed at this machine, goring, overturning, and throwing the poor donkeys into the air in the most comical manner imaginable. I also saw a picador kill a bull at one thrust of his lance, in the handle of which some fireworks were concealed, that exploded with such violence that the bull, the horse and its rider fell down all together,—the first because he was dead, and the two others from the force of the recoil. The matador was an old rascal, dressed in a seedy, worn-out jacket, and yellow silk stockings, with rather too much open work about them, and looked like a Jeannot of the Opéra Comique, or a street tumbler. He was several times overthrown by the bull, the thrusts of his lance being so feeble and uncertain that it was at last necessary to have recourse to the media luna in order to put the animal out of his misery. The media luna, as its name indicates, is a kind of crescent, fitted on a handle, and very like a pruning hook. It is used for houghing the bull, who is then despatched without danger. Nothing is more ignoble and hideous than this; as soon as there is an end to the danger, you feel disgusted, and the combat degenerates into mere butchery. The poor animal crawling about on its haunches, like Hyacinthe at the Théâtre des Variétés, when he plays the Female Dwarf, in that sublime piece of buffoonery, the Saltembanques, is the most melancholy sight it is possible to conceive; and you only desire one thing, and that is, that the bull may still have sufficient strength left to rip up its stupid tormentor with one last butt of its horns.

The special occupation of this miserable wretch, who was only a matador, when not otherwise employed, was eating. He would absorb six or eight dozen hard eggs, a whole sheep or calf, and so on. From his thin appearance, I should say that he did not get work very often. There were a great number of people present; the majos' dresses were rich and numerous; the women, whose characteristics were entirely different from those of the women of Cadiz, wore on their heads, instead of a mantilla, long scarlet shawls, which were admirably adapted to their fine olive faces, almost as dark as those of mulattoes, in which the pearly eyes and the ivory-like teeth stand out with singular brilliancy. These pure lines, and this tawny, golden tint, are marvellously suited for painting; and it is greatly to be regretted that Léopold Robert, that Raphael of peasants, died so young and never travelled through Spain.

Wandering at hazard through the streets, we came out upon the market-place. Night had set in. The shops and stalls were lighted up by lanterns, or lamps suspended from the roof, and formed a charming scene, all spangled and glistening with spots of brilliancy. Watermelons, with their green rind and rosy pulp, cactus figs, some in their prickly shells and others ready skinned, sacks of garbanzos, monster onions, yellow, amber-coloured grapes, that would put to the blush those brought from the Land of Promise, alder wreaths, spices, and other violent products, were heaped up in picturesque confusion. In the small free passages left between the different stalls, country people passed and re-passed, driving their asses before them, as well as women dragging their brats. I noticed one especially. She was remarkably beautiful, with her jet black eyes glistening in her bistre, oval-shaped face, and her hair, that shone like satin or the raven's wing, plastered down on her temples. She walked along with a serious but happy expression, no stockings on her legs, and her charming foot thrust into a satin shoe. This coquetting with the feet is general throughout Andalusia.

The courtyard of our inn, laid out as a patio, was ornamented by a fountain surrounded by shrubs, and inhabited by a whole population of chameleons. Just fancy a pot-bellied sort of lizard, six or seven inches long, or, perhaps, less, with a disproportionately wide mouth, out of which it darts a viscous, whitish tongue, as long as its body, and eyes, like those of a toad, when you chance to tread upon it; these eyes start out of the creature's head; they are enveloped in a membrane, and perfectly independent of each other in their movements, one looking up towards the sky while the other is turned upon the ground. These squinting lizards, who, according to Spaniards, live on air alone, but whom I very distinctly saw eating flies, have the power of changing colour, according to the place they happen to be in. They do not suddenly become scarlet, blue, or green, but, at the expiration of an hour or two, they imbibe the tints of the nearest objects. On a tree, they are a fine green; on anything blue, a slatish grey; and on scarlet, a reddish brown. If they are kept in the shade, they lose their colour, and assume a sort of neutral yellowish white hue. One or two chameleons would produce a fine effect in the laboratory of an alchemist, or a second Doctor Faustus. In Andalusia, it is the custom to hang a piece of rope of a certain length to the ceiling, and place the end between the fore-paws of a chameleon. The animal begins crawling up, until he reaches the roof, on which his paws have no purchase. He then comes down again to the end of the rope, and, rolling his eyes about, measures the distance between him and the ground. After having made his calculations he crawls up the rope again with the most admirable seriousness and gravity, and continues this manœuvre for an indefinite period. When there are two chameleons on the same rope, the sight becomes most transcendentally ridiculous. Spleen itself would die of laughter on seeing the horrible looks of the ugly brutes when they meet. I was exceedingly anxious to provide myself with the means of indulging in this amusement when I returned to France, and accordingly bought a couple of these amiable animals, which I put in a cage. But they caught cold during the passage, and died of disease of the lungs, on our arrival at Porte Vendres. They had dwindled completely away, and their poor little anatomical system peeped out from their shrunken and wrinkled skin.

Some few days later, the announcement of a bull-fight—the last, alas! that I was destined to witness—caused me to return to Jeres. The circus at Jeres is very handsome and very capacious, and is not without a certain monumental appearance. It is built of brick, faced at the sides with stone, which produces a pleasing effect. There was an immense, motley, variegated, ever-moving crowd, and an endless flourishing of fans and handkerchiefs. In the middle of the arena was a stake with a kind of little platform upon the top. On this platform was crouched a monkey, dressed up as a troubadour, making faces and licking his chaps. He was fastened by a tolerably long chain, which allowed him to describe a pretty large circle, of which the stake formed the centre. When the bull entered, the first object that attracted his attention was the monkey upon his perch. A most amusing comedy followed. The furious animal commenced butting violently against the stake, and shook our friend the monkey in a terrible fashion. The latter was in an awful state of alarm, which he expressed by the most irresistibly comic grimaces. Sometimes, being unable to hold on to his plank, although he grasped it with his four paws, he actually fell upon the bull's back, where he stuck with all the energy of despair. The hilarity of the public knew no bounds, and fifteen thousand smiles lighted up all the swarthy faces around. But the comedy was succeeded by a tragedy. A poor negro helper, who was carrying a basket filled with fine earth to sprinkle over the pools of blood, was attacked by the bull, whom he imagined was occupied somewhere else, and thrown up twice into the air. He lay stretched out upon the ground, motionless and lifeless. The chulos came and waved their cloaks before the bull, and drew him off to another part of the arena, in order that the negro's body might be carried away. He passed close to me; two mozos were carrying him by the head and legs. I remarked a singular fact; from black he had become dark blue, which is apparently the tint that negroes assume when they turn pale. This circumstance did not interrupt the proceedings. Nada; es un mozo; "It is nothing, he is only a black;" such was the funeral oration of the poor African. But if the human spectators were indifferent to his death, the case was different with the poor monkey, who threw about his arms, uttered piercing moans, and exerted all his strength to break his chain. Did he look upon the negro as an animal of his own race, a brother monkey who had got on in the world, and who was the only friend worthy of understanding him? However this may be, it is very certain that I never beheld an instance of deeper grief, than that of this monkey bewailing this negro; and the circumstance is the more remarkable, as he had seen the picadores unhorsed and their lives in danger without manifesting the least uneasiness or sympathy. At the same moment, an enormous owl alighted in the middle of the arena. He had come, no doubt, in his character of a bird of night, to carry off this black soul to the ebony paradise of Africans. Out of the eight bulls in this fight, four only were to be killed. The others, after having received half-a-dozen thrusts with the lance, and three or four pairs of banderillas, were conducted back again into the toril by large oxen with bells on their necks. The last one, a novillo, was abandoned to the spectators, who tumultuously invaded the arena, and despatched him with their knives, for so great is the passion of the Andalusians for bull-fights, that they are not contented with being mere spectators; they require to take a part in the fight, without which they would retire unsatisfied.

The steamer the Ocean, was lying in the harbour, ready to start; the bad weather, that superb bad weather which I have already mentioned, had detained her for some days; we went on board her, with a lively feeling of satisfaction, for in consequence of the events in Valencia, and the troubles which ensued, Cadiz was, after a fashion, in a state of siege. The papers were no longer filled with anything, save pieces of poetry or feuilletons translated from the French, and on the corners of all the streets were posted rather uncomfortable little bandos, prohibiting all groups of more than three persons, under pain of death. Besides these reasons for wishing to leave as soon as possible, we had been travelling forwards with our backs turned on France for a long time; it was the first time for many months that we had made a step towards our native land, and, however free a man may be from national prejudices, he cannot help feeling a slight longing to behold his country once more, when he is so far away. In Spain, the least disrespectful allusion to France made me furious, and I felt inclined to sing of laurels, victory, glory, and warriors, like a supernumerary of the Cirque-Olympique.

Every one was on deck, running about in all directions, and making all sorts of signs of adieu, to the boats that were shoving off to return to shore. Hardly had we gone a league when I heard on all sides such exclamations as, "Me mareo! I feel ill! some lemons; some rum; some vinegar; some smelling salts." The deck offered a most melancholy spectacle. The women, who but a short time previously had looked so lovely, were as green as bodies that had been immersed in the water for a week. They lay about on mattresses, boxes, and counterpanes, with a total forgetfulness of grace or modesty. A poor parrot, which was taken ill in its cage, and could not at all comprehend the agony it was suffering, poured forth its vocabulary with the most mournful and comic volubility. I was lucky enough not to be ill. The two days I had passed on board the Voltigeur had no doubt hardened me. My companion, who was less fortunate than myself, plunged into the interior of the vessel, and did not reappear until we reached Gibraltar. How is it that modern science, which displays so much solicitude for rabbits who have got a cold in the head, and finds delight in dying duck's bones red, has not yet endeavoured to discover some remedy against this feeling of horrible uneasiness, which causes more suffering than actual acute pain?

The sea was still rather rough, although the weather was magnificent; the air was so transparent that we could distinguish with tolerable distinctness the coast of Africa, Cape Spartel, and the bay at the bottom of which Tangiers is situated. That band of mountains resembling clouds, from which they differed only by their immovability, was then Africa, the land of prodigies, of which the Romans used to say, quid novi fert Africa? the oldest continent in the world, the cradle of Eastern civilization, the centre of Islamism, the black world, where the shade which is absent from the sky is only found on the faces of the people, the mysterious laboratory of Nature, who, in her endeavours to bring forth man, first changes the monkey into a negro! What a refined and modern instance of the punishment of Tantalus was it merely to see Africa, and be obliged to pass on.

Opposite Tarifa, a little town whose chalky walls rise on the summit of a precipitous hill, behind a small island of the same name, Europe and Africa approach nearer, and seem desirous to kiss each other in token of alliance. The straits are so narrow that you see both continents at the same time. It is impossible, when you are here, not to believe that the Mediterranean was, at no very remote epoch, an isolated sea, an inland lake, like the Caspian Sea and the Dead Sea. The spectacle before us was one of marvellous magnificence. To the left was Europe, and to the right Africa, with their rocky coasts, clothed by distance in light lilac and shot-coloured tints, like those of a double-woofed cloth; before us was the boundless horizon, continually increasing; above us, the turquoise-coloured sky; and below, a sea of sapphire so limpid that we could distinguish the whole hull of our vessel, as well as the keels of the smaller craft which passed near us, and which appeared rather to be flying in the air, than floating in the water. All around us was one mass of light, the only sombre tint perceptible for twenty leagues in every direction, being the long wreaths of thick smoke which we left behind us. The steamer is truly a northern invention; its fires, which are always fiercely glowing, its boiler in a state of constant ebullition, its chimney which will eventually blacken the sky with its soot, are in admirable keeping with the fogs and mists of the north. Amidst the splendid scenery of the south, however, it is a blot. All nature was gay; large sea-birds grazed the surface of the waves with the tips of their pinions; tunny-fish, doradoes, and fish of every other description, all glittering, shining, and sparkling, leaped up and performed a thousand quaint antics as they sported on the top of the water; sail succeeded sail every moment, as white and swelling as the bosom of a Nereid would be, could we see her rise above the billows. The coasts were tinged with all kinds of fantastic hues; their folds, precipices, and gaps produced the most marvellous and unexpected effects in the sunshine, and formed a panorama that was incessantly changing. About four o'clock we were in sight of Gibraltar, waiting for the health officers to be kind enough to come and take our papers with a pair of tongs, and see that we had not brought in our pockets some yellow fever, blue cholera, or black plague.

The aspect of Gibraltar completely confuses all your ideas: you no longer know where you are, nor what you see. Just fancy an immense rock, or, rather, a mountain, fifteen hundred feet high, rising suddenly and bluffly from the midst of the waves, and based on a tract of ground so flat and level that you can scarcely perceive it. Nothing prepares you for it, nothing accounts for its being there; it is connected with no chain of mountains; but it is a monstrous monolith thrown down from heaven, the corner of some planet broken off during a battle of the stars—a fragment of some broken world. Who placed it in this position? God and Eternity alone know. What adds still more to the singular effect of this inexplicable rock is its form. It looks like an enormous, prodigious, and gigantic Sphinx, such as Titans might have sculptured, and compared to which, the flat-nosed monsters of Carnac and Giseh are but what a mouse is in comparison with an elephant. The outspread paws form what is called Europa Point; the head, which is somewhat truncated, is turned towards Africa, which it seems to look at with profound and dreamy attention. What thoughts can this mountain be revolving in its mind, in this sly meditative attitude? What enigma is it about to propose, or endeavouring to solve? The shoulders, loins, and hind-quarters stretch towards Spain in nonchalant folds and beautifully undulating lines, like those of a lion in a state of repose. The town is situated at the bottom of the rock, and is almost imperceptible, being a wretched detail lost in the general mass. The three-deckers at anchor in the bay look like German toys—little miniature models of ships, such as are sold in seaport towns—and the smaller craft seem to be flies drowning in milk; even the fortifications are not apparent. The mountain, however, is hollowed out, mined and excavated in every direction; its belly is full of cannons, howitzers, and mortars; it is absolutely crammed with warlike stores. It is an example of the luxury and coquetry of the Impregnables. But all this offers nothing to the eye, save a few almost imperceptible lines, which are confounded with the wrinkles on the face of the rock, and a few holes through which pieces of artillery furtively thrust their brazen mouths. In the Middle Ages, Gibraltar would have bristled with donjons, towers, turrets, and battlements; instead of taking up its position below, the fortress would have scaled the mountain, and perched itself, like an eagle's nest, upon the highest peak. The present batteries sweep the sea, which is so narrow in this part, and render it almost impossible for a vessel to force a passage. Gibraltar was called by the Arabs, Giblaltah,—that is to say, the Mountain of the Entrance; and never was a name more appropriate. Its ancient name was Calpe. Abyla, now Ape's Hill, is on the other side of the straits in Africa, close to Ceuta, a Spanish possession, the Brest and Toulon of the Peninsula; it is there that the Spaniards send their most hardened galley-slaves. We could distinctly make out its rocky precipices, and its crest enveloped in clouds, despite the serenity of the surrounding sky.