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SOUTHERN SPAIN

PAINTED BY TREVOR
HADDON • DESCRIBED
BY A. F. CALVERT • PUB-
LISHED BY A. &f C. BLACK
LONDON • MCMVIII




P3'f>



^^(-



PREFACE

Few travellers have leisure enough to traverse the
wide realm of tawny Spain in its every part. Those
who must confine their attention to a single province
naturally select Andalusia, where all the Northerner's
preconceptions of the South find realization. The wild
scenery of Southern Spain, the gay open-air life of the
people, the monuments attesting the splendour of the
extinct civilization of the Moor, the spell of romance
which still holds its cities, makes this land one of the
most interesting and fascinating in Europe to the artist,
the archaeologist, and the dreamer.

The present volume, mainly the embodiment of
personal impressions and observations, is intended
partly to supply the place of a guide-book to this part
of the Peninsula, and with that object I have brought
together as much of history, art, and topography as the
traveller is likely to assimilate. Into the descriptive
matter I have introduced a little gossip, which will, I
hope, be not found altogether irrelevant, and may serve
to beguile the tedium of a bare recital of facts.

While I have endeavoured to make the book as
useful to travellers as within the prescribed limits was
possible, I have essayed to give it, by means of the



22635B



Preface

illustrations, a more permanent value. It is on the
brush rather than on the pen that I have relied to
convey an idea of the gorgeous panorama of Southern
Spain, and to recall to the returned traveller his
impressions of the land.

As a vade-mecum^ then, for the tourist, and as an
album and souvenir of the fairest portion of the realm
of the Catholic King, I hope that the present volume
will be of use to the public, despite the shortcomings
it doubtless contains. For rendering these as few as
possible, I have to thank several friends who have
looked through the proofs. To one in particular,
Mr. E. B. d'Auvergne, I am indebted for various
scraps of original and entertaining information.

A. F. CALVERT.



CONTENTS



CHAPTER I

PAGE

Cadiz .......••• i

CHAPTER II

Seville — The Pearl of Andalusia. . . . . 12

CHAPTER III

Cordova ......... 80

CHAPTER IV

Granada . . . . . . . • . 107

CHAPTER V
Malaga 163

CHAPTER VI

<
The Way South . . . . . . . .169

CHAPTER VII

The Kingdom of Murcia . . . . . .174.

CHAPTER VIII

In the Old Kingdom of Valencia . . . .186



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS



I.

2.

3-
4-
5'
6.

7-
8.

9-

10.

1 1.

12.

13-
14.

15-

16.

17-
18.



Cordova — Fountain in the Patio de los Naranjos

Ayamonte (The Gateway of Andalusia)

Seville — A Street

Seville — The Aceite Gate .

Seville — A Courtyard

Seville — The Torre del Oro and the Cathedral

Seville — The Giralda

Seville — Gardens of the Alcazar

Seville — Gardens of the Alcazar

Seville — Patio de las Bandcras .

Seville — Gardens of the Alcazar

Seville — Interior of the Cathedral

Seville — Patio de los Naranjos .

Seville — Plaza de San Fernando.

Seville — Casa de Pilatos

Seville — Casa de Pilatos

Seville — Garden of the Casa de Pilatos

Seville — The Market Place



Frontispiece

PAGE



12

20
24
28
30

34
40

44
50
56
60
64
68
72

78
80



Southern Spain



19.


Cordova-


-A Courtyard .....


84


20.


Cordova—


-Entrance to the City


86


21.


Cordova-


-Calle Cardinal Herrera


88


22.


Cordova—


-Moorish Mill .....


90


23-


Cordova-


-Mezquita .....


92


2 + .


Cordova-


-Patio de los Naranjos


94


25-


Cordova-


-Outer Wall of the Mosque


96


26.


Cordova-


—A Street Scene .....


98


27.


Cordova-


-A Street


100


28.


Cordova—


-The Bridge .....


102


29.


Cordova-


-Courtyard of an Inn ....


104


30-


Cordova-


-Old Houses near the River


106


31-


Granada-


—From the Generalife ....


108


32.


Granada-


—Sierra Nevada from the Alhambra Gardens


1 10


33-


Granada-


—Exterior of the Alhambra .


1 12


34-


Granada-


—A Street in the Albaicin


114


3 5-


Granada-


-In the Maricet ....


116


36.


Granada-


—The Alhambra : The Aqueduct .


118


37-


Granada-


—The Court of the Cypresses


120


38.


Granada-


—Villa on the Darro . . . . .


122


39-


Granada-


—The Alhambra from San Miguel


124


40.


Granada-


—Towers of the Infantas, Alhambra


126


41.


Granada-


—Near the Alhambra ....


128


42.


Granada-


— Puerta del Vino, Alhambra

X


130



List of Illustrations



43-
44.

45-
46.

47-
48.

49.

50.

51-

52-
53-
54-
55-
56.

57-
58.

59-
60.

61.

62.
63-
64-
65.



Granada — The Alhambra : Tower of Comares . . 132

Granada — The Court of the Lions : Moonlight . . 136

Granada — The Generalife : Patio de la Acequia . . 138

Granada — The Generalife : Court of the Cypresses . 140

Granada — Tocador de la Reina . . . . .142

Granada — Torre de las Damas . . . . .144

Granada — The Generalife : Court of the Cypresses . 146

Granada — Casa del Carbon . . , . .148

Granada — Street in the Albaicin . . . .150

Granada — Interior of a Posada . . . . .152

Granada — Old Houses, Cuesta del Pescado . . .154

Granada — Old Ayuntamiento . . . . .156

Granada — Street in the Old Quarter . . . , 158

Granada — The Generalife : Patio de la Acequia . . 160

Granada — A Corner in the Old Quarter . . .162

Malaga — The Harbour . , . . . .164

Malaga — The Guadalmedina . . . . ,166

Malaga — A Market 168

Malaga — Packing Lemons . . . . .170

Ronda — The Tajo . . . . . . .172

Ronda — Roman Bridges . . . . . .174

Ronda — At the Fountain . . . . . .176

Ronda — A Moorish Gateway . . . . .180

Ronda — A Street Scene . . . . . .182



Southern Spain



67. Ronda— The Market

68. Orihuela on the River Segura

69. Elche — A Street

70. A Fisher Girl (Coast of Malaga)

71. A Water Carrier

72. Malaga — -A Picador .

73. Valencia — Santa Catalina .

74. An Andalusian Dance

75. Courting . . . .



PAGE

184
186
188

190
192
196

198

200
204



(Map at end of Volume



The Illustrations in this Volume have been engraved and printed in England
by The Menpes Press, London and Watford



SOUTHERN SPAIN

CHAPTER I



CADIZ



Cadiz was the prettiest of all the towns of Spain,
thought Byron. I would rather say that she was the
most beautiful. She rises out of the sea — the bound-
less salt ocean that stretches from pole to pole — and
the crests of the waves which lick her feet are not
whiter than her walls. And these by day are bathed
in liquid gold, for the sun seems to linger here ere he
says good-night to Europe. By night the city gleams
like washed silver, and her sheen is more magical than
that of the dark yet phosphorescent water. Of sun
and sea, light and air, is Cadiz compounded. She is
the Gateway of the West, not sultry and southern, but
salt and windy and dazzling white. It is thus she
appears to you, especially when you come to her over
the sea — that sea which hereabouts has so often been
splashed with British blood. How often the pale
yellow cliffs of Spain to the southward, and those of
the lovely shore of Algarve to the north, have
reverberated with the booming of the cannon ; how
often the strand has been littered with dead men,



;' Southern Spain

whose gaping wounds the kindly ocean had washed
clean ! Browning's lines recur to the memory :

" Nobly, nobly Cape St. Vincent to the north-west died away,
Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay."

For you can see the lighthouse on Cape Trafalgar, and
the Bay of Cadiz itself has been the scene of some of
England's most glorious and desperate feats of arms.
There is little stirring now in the wide harbour, where
the ships ride lazily at anchor, and their crews crowd
to the bulwarks and exchange pleasantries with your
boatman as he pulls you towards the quay. And so
you step on shore, and enter the fair city.

It looks so fresh and fragrant that you would not
think it ancient. But Cadiz is the first-born city of
Spain, probably the first foothold of civilization on the
shores of the Atlantic Ocean. It marks a new and
tremendously important step forward in the world's
progress. After Heaven knows how many attempts
and false starts, the PhcEnicians dared what no people
of the ancient world had dared before. The Pillars of
Hercules were regarded as the western boundary of
the world : beyond was nothingness. And one day,
with the east wind filling his sails and fear in the
hearts of his crew, some forgotten Columbus of Sidon
or of Tyre passed through the strait, and turning
northward, beached his little galley on the peninsula
where we stand. Civilization — arts and letters,
commerce and social life, and all that makes life



Cadiz

dear to modern men — had burst the narrow limits of
the Middle Sea, and first hoisted its flag o'er Cadiz.
The thought is not uninspiring. It is not
unreasonable to suppose that the first keel that ever
ploughed the Atlantic grazed this strand. It is likely
enough that the fleets of lost Atlantis, if that mystical
isle possessed a ship, resorted hither, for the copper
and precious metals of Tarshish. What voyages have
begun from this port, from the little Phoenician craft
setting forth in quest of the Tin Islands of the far
north, to brave Cervera leading out his squadron to its
preordained doom !

" It may be that the gulfs shall wash us down,
It may be we shall touch the happy isles."

And careless of fate, all these dauntless sailors have
adventured forth into the deep.

In after years, the Phoenicians and Carthaginians
had settlements here, and built great ugly palaces
overlooking the sea and the estuaries. With their
curling black beards I seem to see them, robed in the
real Tyrian purple, reclining on their terraces even as
their forefathers are shown in that strange picture in
our National Gallery, " The Eve of the Deluge."

Their deluge was the Roman Invasion, when, in a
good hour for humanity, Latin superseded Semitic
civilization, and the cruel gods of Sidon bowed before
the young and beautiful gods of Rome. Gades or
Gaddir — I give it its two oldest names — did not suff^er
by its change of masters. Its mart was crowded, its

3



Southern Spain

merchants known from Britain to the Fortunate Isles,
from Lusitania to Arabia. Much wealth engendered
luxury. Life in Gades was feverish and distempered.
The people had not forgotten the worship of Astarte, and
the Gaditane dancing-girls proved themselves worthy-
daughters of the goddess. When the gods were
dethroned the sensual city pined ; and under the
austere yoke of Islam it languished and all but faded
away. It is interesting to note that its Moslem
inhabitants were drawn from the old race of Philistines,
some of whose gods had probably been worshipped
here in the Punic days.

When Seville fell, the port continued subject to
the Almohade Emir of Fez. Alfonso the Learned
subdued it without difficulty in 1262, and filled it
with colonists from the north coast of Spain, from such
places as Santander and Laredo. But the Philistine
taint in two senses was never eradicated ; Cadiz
remained ever financial and commercial, and cared
nothing for art. Her brightest and blackest days
followed the discovery of America, when she soon
eclipsed Seville as the mart for the produce of the
New Indies. Her wealth, not once but many times,
wellnigh proved her downfall. Threatened again and
again by the Barbary corsairs, she saw a far more
terrible foe before her walls in 1587, in the person of
Sir Francis Drake, who inflicted incalculable injury on
her shipping. Worse was to come nine years later,
when the English, under the command of the Earl of



Cadiz

Essex, scaled the walls, sacked the city from end to
end, slaughtered the inhabitants, profaned the churches
and burnt the public buildings, and sailed away with
enormous booty. Yet so quickly did Cadiz recover
from this terrific catastrophe, that she again tempted
the cupidity of our countrymen in 1625. But this
time the Dons were well prepared and gave our fleet
so warm a reception that we were compelled to retire
with heavy loss.

The city attained its zenith of opulence in the first
quarter of the eighteenth century, when it had become
almost the exclusive entrepot for the trafl^c between
Southern Europe and the Americas. Numerous
royal privileges and concessions secured it almost a
monopoly of the trade. But no one organ can hope
to escape an infection attacking the whole system.
Spain in the eighteenth century was dying from that
commonest of national diseases — dry-rot. Yet as late
as 1770 Adam Smith did not hesitate to say that the
merchants of London had not yet the wealth to
compete with those of Cadiz, and a few years later the
value of the bullion landed at its quays was estimated
at 125 millions sterling.

Yet it was this bloated, purse-proud city, strangely
enough, that proved the ark of refuge for Spain when
the innumerable hosts of Napoleon swarmed over the
land. Here were preserved the insignia of national
independence, and here, amid the thunder of guns and
in the lap of the ocean, was born the New and Free



Southern Spain

Spain. Cadiz proved a second Cov?.donga. The
focus of the constitutional movement, she was savagely
assailed by the Absolutists and their French allies.
The defence of Trocadero, on the other side of the
bay, against the forces of the Due d'Angoul6me
popularized the name of the place throughout Europe.
The pages of Balzac abound in allusions to that
mischievous and futile attempt of the Government of
the Restoration to rivet on Spaniards fetters that no
Frenchman would wear. Then came a French invasion
of another sort, of the Romanticists — of De Musset
and Gautier, and the long-haired followers of Byron.

It has often seemed to me that every city belongs to
one particular age. This being a fancy contrary to
fact, I will put it this way — that in every city there is
always some one period of human history more readily
recoverable than any other. This may not be the
period which has left its mark most conspicuously
on the physiognomy of the place ; more probably
it will be determined by your own preconceptions,
derived from study or chance reading. John Addington
Symonds observed that an island near Venice, the
name of which I have forgotten, immediately
recalled to him not the great days of the Republic
with which it had an historical connection, but the
later and decadent days of bag-wig and hair powder.
At Cadiz I could have wished to think of the
Phoenicians, thus hardily adventuring into the wide
ocean ; or of Drake and his gentlemen adventurers,

6



Cadiz

"bound wrist to bar, all for red iniquity"; but
instead I fancied myself back in the 'thirties of last
century, and thought of De Musset and his
" Andalouse " and his lovely Spanish girls. Is it
possible that Andalusia in those days of our grand-
fathers was the Andalusia of the Romanticists ? At
Cadiz, I beguiled myself into believing so — why, I
cannot explain. Perhaps it was due to the unexpected
appearance of a native — a distinctively Andalusian —
costume in the streets. Nowhere else in Spain is the
mantilla more conspicuous or more gorgeous. A
French writer gives a selection of toilettes worn at
a Corrida de toros^ which, as I never assisted at one of
these functions in Cadiz, I repeat : " All pink, coral
necklace, white lace mantilla, big bunches of carnations
in the hair and corsage ; a blond head seen beneath a
transparent mantilla, like a frail spider's web, red
corsage and white gown ; coral ear-rings, with bunches
of roses ; all black, with a white mantilla ; all white,
with a black mantilla ; pale green gown with a blue
bolero and white roses ; shawl draped, brocaded, with
a wealth of carnations in the hair ; black dress and
mantilla, violets in the hair ; gold coloured shawl,
embroidered with red roses, comb like a tiara set with
bright-hued flowers," etc., etc. With confections such
as these dazzling the eyes, it is no wonder that I
began to see visions of gentlemen in black silk tights,
dark green frock coats, and snowy white cravats,
stammering Castilian with a Parisian accent.

7



Southern Spain

It would be hard, too, to keep the mind fixed on
remoter and more heroic ages, for Cadiz is singularly
destitute of antiquities. The descendants of the
Philistines could not be expected to respect ancient
monuments ! But what they spared our freebooter
ancestors burned. The old Cathedral, built in the
thirteenth century, was almost totally consumed by
the flames. When I say that the new building
dates from 1720, I fear that your interest in it will
expire. But it is at least imposing ; and the choir
stalls are very fine. Then there is the Capuchin
Convent, where Murillo met his death by falling from
a scaffblding while painting the picture of the Espousals
of St. Catherine. Another picture by the same master
may be seen in this church — St. Francis receiving
the Stigmata. The little Academia de Bellas Artes
contains some admirable specimens of the work of
Zurbaran, brought from the Charterhouse of Jerez.

These are the only sights in the tourists' agent's
acceptation of the word, and it is likely enough that
you will think three hours devoted to the city amply
sufficient. Yet its situation at the end of a narrow
spit like that at the entrance to the Suez Canal — in
mid-sea as it were — its associations, and its brightness
and cleanliness, make it for some the most charming
of Spanish towns. Crenellated walls enclose it on all
sides, the space between them and the water's edge
being devoted to quays, promenades, and gardens.
There are forts at the extremity of the peninsula — the

8



AYAMONTE (tHE GATEWAY OF ANDALUSIa)



Cadiz

Isla de Leon, as it is called. The streets are all very-
straight, very narrow, and very clean. Through the
rejas across the doorways you obtain glimpses of trim
little patios, bedecked with flowering plants. Occa-
sionally you come out into a little square, prettily laid
out with gardens, like the Plaza de Mina, where the
loungers asleep on the seats irresistibly recall dear old
busy London.

The charming Parque Genoves, bordering the sea,
reminds us of the great merchant race of Italy who
had their warehouses here. It is exquisite to walk by
night along the sea wall, which at some points rises
sheer upwards from the water, and to inhale the
breezes blown straight across, one would like to think,
from the West Indies. You will crave for that cool
wind afterwards, in the parched interior of Andalusia.

From Cadiz you may go to Seville by steamer up
the Guadalquivir, but it is far from being an interest-
ing trip. The river is about as picturesque, and in
the same way, as the Dutch Rhine. However, in
these days of distorted aesthetics — when all that we
thought beautiful we are now told is ugly, and vice
versa — it is quite possible that some rapturous
travellers will extol the mystical loveliness of the
plains of the Guadalquivir, rating their charms far
above the vulgar, blatant scenery of Switzerland and
the Riviera, which is at the disadvantage of being at
once realized by the mere ordinary person. En passant
I cannot refrain from expressing my wonder why

9



Southern Spain

superior people of this sort go abroad. If Rhenish
and Italian panoramas are suggestive to them only of
oleographs and Christmas numbers, have we not our
Abanas and Pharpars in England — the Essex marshes,
the treeless downs of Sussex, the odoriferous banks
of the Mersey, for instance ?

But I digress — and I counsel you against doing so,
but recommend you to proceed to Seville, if that be
your destination, by rail direct. The journey occupies
eight and a half hours, and is not among the most
agreeable experiences of a lifetime. The railway runs
right round the bay of Cadiz, touching several towns
of importance. That any of them are worth a break
of journey I doubt. Puerto Santa Maria is said to be
much resorted to by toreros and their admirers. I
have never heard what attracts them there, but indeed
my interest in bull-killing was never more than languid.
The country round the bay is marshy. It is traversed
by the river Guadalete, beside which, it seems, Don
Roderic was not slain, and the battle never took place.
You must look for the scene of that epoch-making
encounter farther towards the strait near the Rio
Barbate.

Between Cadiz and Seville you stop at the buffet
of Jerez to drink a glass of sherry in its native place.
As most people know, all the good wine comes to
England ; but at Jerez I think, in all reason, the price
of the wine might be a little lower and its quality a
good deal higher. The city, of which I only caught a

lO



Cadiz

glimpse, looks like an inland Cadiz, very clean, white,
sunny, and bright.

And so we creep onwards over dreary country — like
the South African veld — to Lebrija, an old Moorish
town with a great church on a height, apparently the
only building of note in the place. Further on is
Utrera, renowned for bulls and for possessing one of
the thirty deniers for which Judas sold his Master. It
should be an interesting town, with its Moorish castle
and walls still extant. But the same individuality is not
to be expected of the smaller Spanish as of the lesser
Italian cities ; for the history of the one country has
been a record of steady centralization ; of the other,
obstinate decentralization. In Utrera, and Moron,
and Lebrija — even in Cadiz and Granada — there were
no independent princes or ambitious municipalities to
foster and to reward native art. The genius and talent
of Spain flocked to great centres like Seville, Toledo,
Valladolid, and Zaragoza, and became ultimately con-
centrated in Madrid. We read the same story in our
own country ; and in fact it is impossible to resist the
dangerous and obvious conclusion that centralization
and unity are good things for nations but bad things
for art.



I T



CHAPTER II



THE PEARL OF ANDALUSIA



Seville, in the glory of the Andalusian summer, is a
city of white and gold. Her brilliancy dazzles you, as
it dazzled those who wrote of her, a little wildly, as
the eighth wonder of the world. Luis Guevara, a poet
born within her walls, declared that she was not the
eighth but the first of those wonders. In our own
day, men of genius have felt her spell. " Seville," says
Valdes, " has ever been for me the symbol of light, the
city of love and joy." So much few northerners would
feel justified in saying. To them this must be the
city that most closely corresponds to their preconceived
ideas of the sunny and romantic South. To Seville
belong the sweep of lute-strings, the click of the casta-
nets, the serenade, and above all, the bull-fight. There
is something feminine about the radiant city, compared
with the masculine strength of Toledo and Avila, and
the harsh decadence of Granada. You will agree that
no town is prettier, except perhaps Cadiz. So Byron
said, and by him and all the poets of his school — Alfred
de Musset for one — the city by the Guadalquivir was

12



SEVILLE A STREET



The Pearl of Andalusia

ardently loved. Yet though so conventionally romantic
of- aspect, Seville is busy, prosperous, and well peopled,
before all other Andalusian towns. The blood still
courses hotly through her veins — her vitality intoxicates.
If you come from Cordova or Granada, you feel as
though you were returning to the world. Here is
life, here is gaiety ; yet your driver the next instant
takes you into a narrow, winding street, no broader
than an alley, where absolute silence reigns. The
windows are shuttered, no one seems to stir in the
patios. There reigns a Sabbath-like calm. A minute
later you are in a broad plaza, where electric cars boom
and whirr, where all is animation and bustle. Such
contrasts are very sharp in this city, where the streets
exist simply for folk to dwell in, the squares and paseos
for them to gather in and do their business. There
are notable exceptions, it is true. There is no want ot
life in the Sierpes, the narrow street which is the Strand
and Charing Cross of Seville. Here you return again
and again, feeling it is the focus of the city's life.
Little better than a lane is the Sierpes, where no wheeled


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