Accordingly at four o'clock on an April morning--an hour later than is the custom on the road from France to Madrid--I ascended the steps of a carriage, selected for its lightness, which to those who know anything of Continental coach-building, conveys a sufficient idea of its probable solidity. There was not yet sufficient daylight to take a view of this fabric; but I saw, by the aid of a lantern, my luggage lifted into a sort of loose net, composed of straw-ropes, and suspended between the hind wheels in precisely such juxtaposition, as to make the portmanteaus, bags, &c. bear the same topographic relation to the vehicle, as the truffles do to a turkey, or the stuffing to a duck.

There was much grumbling about the quant.i.ty of my luggage, and some hints thrown out, relative to the additional perils, suspended over our heads, or rather, under our seats, in consequence of the coincidence of the unusual weight, with the bad state of the _road_, as they termed it, and the acknowledged caducity of the carriage. I really was, in fact, the only one to blame; for I could not discover, besides my things, more than two small valises belonging to all the other six pa.s.sengers together.

At length we set off, and at a distance of four miles from Madrid, as day began to break, we broke down.

The break-down was neither violent nor dangerous, and was occasioned by the crash of a hind wheel, while our pace did not exceed a walk: but it was productive of some amus.e.m.e.nt, owing to the position, near the corner of the vehicle which took the greatest fancy to _terra firma_, of a not over heroic limb of the Castilian law, who had endeavoured to be facetious ever since our departure, and whose countenance now exhibited the most grotesque symptoms of real terror. Never, I am convinced, will those moments be forgotten by that individual, whose vivacity deserted him for the remainder of the journey; and whose att.i.tude and expression, as his extended arms failed to recover his centre of gravity exchanged for the supine, folded-up posture, unavoidable by the occupant at the lowest corner of a broken-down vehicle,--while his thoughts wandered to his absent offspring, whose fond smiles awaited him in Toledo, but to whom perhaps he was not allowed to bid an eternal adieu--will live likewise in the memory of his fellow-travellers.

This _denouement_ of the adventures of the first carriage rendered a long halt necessary; during which, the postilion returned to Madrid on a mule, and brought us out a second. This proceeding occupied four hours, during which some entered a neighbouring _venta_, others remained on the road, seated on heaps of stones, and all breakfasted on what provisions they had brought with them, or could procure at the said _venta_. The sight of the vehicle that now approached, would have been cheaply bought at the price of twenty up-sets. Don Quixote would have charged it, had such an apparition suddenly presented itself to his view. It was called a phaeton, but bore no sort of resemblance to the open carriage known in England by that name. Its form was remarkable by its length being out of all proportion to its width,--so much so as to require three widely-separated windows on each side. These were irregularly placed, instead of being alike on the two sides, for the door appeared to have been forgotten until after the completion of the fabric, and to have taken subsequently the place of a window; which window--pursuant to a praiseworthy sense of justice--was provided for at the expense of a portion of deal board, and some uniformity.

The machine possessed, nevertheless, allowing for its rather exaggerated length, somewhat of the form of an ancient landau; but the roof describing a semicircle, gave it the appearance of having been placed upside down by mistake, in lowering it on to the wheels. Then, with regard to these wheels, they certainly had nothing very extraordinary about their appearance, when motionless; but, on being subjected to a forward or backward impulse, they a.s.sumed, respectively, and independently of each other, such a zigzag movement, as would belong to a rotatory, locomotive pendulum, should the progress of mechanics ever attain to so complicated a discovery. Indeed, the machine, in general, appeared desirous of avoiding the monotony attendant on a straight-forward movement; the body of the monster, from the groans, sighs, screams, and other various sounds which accompanied its heaving, pitching, and rolling exertions, appearing to belong to some unwieldy and agonised mammoth and to move by its own laborious efforts, instead of being indebted for its progress to the half-dozen quadrupeds hooked to its front projections.

The track along which this interesting production of mechanical art now conveyed us, bore much resemblance to a river, in the accidents of its course. Thus we were reminded at frequent intervals, by the suddenly increased speed of our progress, that we were descending a rapid: at other times the motion was so vertical, as to announce the pa.s.sage down a cataract. These incidents were not objectionable to me, as they interrupted the monotony of the walking pace, to which we were condemned; although one or two pa.s.sengers of rather burly proportions, seemed not much to enjoy their repet.i.tion. However this might be, a.s.suredly we were none of us sorry to find ourselves at eight o'clock that evening safely housed at Toledo.

LETTER VIII.

PICTURESQUE POSITION OF TOLEDO. FLORINDA.

Toledo.

Every traveller--I don't mean every one who habitually a.s.sists in wearing out roads, whether of stone or iron--nor who travels for business, nor who seeks to escape from himself--meaning from ennui, (a vain attempt, by the way, if Horace is to be depended on; since, even should he travel on horseback, the most exhilarating sort of locomotion, ennui will contrive to mount and ride pillion)--but every one who deserves the name of traveller, who travels for travelling sake, for the pleasure of travelling, knows the intensity of the feeling which impels his right hand, as he proceeds to open the window-shutter of his bed-room, on the morning subsequent to his nocturnal arrival in a new town.

The windows of the Posada del Miradero at Toledo are so placed as by no means to diminish the interest of this operation. The shutter being opened, I found myself looking from a perpendicular elevation of several hundred feet, on one of the prettiest views you can imagine. The town was at my back, and the road by which we had arrived, was cut in the side of the precipice beneath me. In following that direction, the first object at all prominent was the gate leading to Madrid--a cl.u.s.ter of half Arab embattled towers and walls, standing somewhat to the left at the bottom of the descent. These gave issue to the track mentioned in my journey, and which could now be traced straight in front, to a considerable distance.

The ground rises slightly beyond the gates of the town, and preserves a moderate elevation all across the view, retreating right and left, so as to offer the convex side of the arc of an immense circle. This formation gives to the view a valley, extending on either side, shut in on the left by mountains at a distance of four miles; while to the east it extends as far as the eye can reach,--some mountains, scarcely perceptible, crossing it at the horizon. The Tagus advances down the eastern valley from Aranjuez; which chateau is in view at the distance of twenty-eight miles, and approaching with innumerable zigzags to the foot of the town, suddenly forms a curve, and, dashing into the rocks, pa.s.ses round the back of the city, issues again into the western valley, and, after another sharp turn to the left, resumes the same direction as before. All this tract of country owes to the waters of the Tagus a richness of vegetation, and a bright freshness nowhere surpa.s.sed. So much for the distant view.

To judge of the nearer appearance of the town, I crossed the bridge of Alcantara, placed at the entrance of the eastern valley, and leading to Aranjuez. The situation may be described in a few words. Toledo stands on an eminence nearly circular in its general form. It is a ma.s.s of jagged rock, almost perpendicular on all its sides. The river flows rather more than half round it, descending from the east, and pa.s.sing round its southern side. The left or south bank is of the same precipitous formation; but, instead of presenting that peculiarity during only a short distance, it continues so both above and below the town; while on the opposite side the only high ground is the solitary ma.s.s of rock selected, whether with a view to defence or to inconvenience, for the position of this ancient city. The Tagus is crossed by two bridges, one at each extremity of the semi-circle described by it round the half of the town. These bridges are both highly picturesque, from their form no less than their situation. They are raised upon arches of a height so disproportionate to their width, as to appear like aqueducts; and are provided at each extremity with towers, all, with one exception, Moorish in their style. The lower bridge (lower by position, for it is the higher of the two in actual elevation) bears the name of San Martin, and is traversed by the road to Estremadura; the other leads to Aranjuez, and is the puente de Alcantara. We are now standing on this last, having pa.s.sed under the Arab archway of its tower.

Its width is just sufficient for the pa.s.sage of two vehicles abreast, and it is covered with flag-paving. The river flows sixty feet below. At the back of the tower which faces you, at the opposite end of the bridge, rises a rock, almost isolated from the rest of the cliff, and on its top the half-ruined towers and walls of a Moorish castle. On the left hand extends the valley, through which the river approaches in a broad ma.s.s. The road to Aranjuez follows the same direction, after having first disappeared round the base of the rock just mentioned, and is bordered with rose-trees, and occasional groups of limes, which separate it from the portions set apart for pedestrians. On the right hand the river (still looking from the bridge) is suddenly pressed in between precipices, becomes narrow, and at the distance of a few hundred yards, forms a noisy cascade.

[Ill.u.s.tration: VIEW OF TOLEDO]

Still looking in that direction, the left bank--a rocky precipice, as I mentioned before--curves round and soon hurries it out of sight. The lower part of the opposite or town bank is ornamented, close to the cascade, with a picturesque ruin, on which you look down from your position. This consists of three stories of arches, standing partly in the water. Above and behind them rise a few larger buildings, almost perpendicularly over each other, and the summit is crowned with the colossal quadrangular ma.s.s of the Alcazar.

The ruinous arches just mentioned, are the remains of a building erected by a speculator, who had conceived a plan for raising water to the Alcazar by means of wheels, furnished with jars, according to the custom of this part of Spain. The arrangement is simple; the jars, being attached round a perpendicular wheel, successively fill with water, as each arrives at the bottom, and empty themselves, on reaching the summit, into any receptacle placed so as to receive their contents. The speculator, having to operate on a colossal scale, intended probably to super-pose wheel over wheel, and to establish reservoirs at different elevations, as it would scarcely be possible to work a wheel of such dimensions as to carry jars to the height required (more than three hundred feet), even though furnished with ropes, which are made to turn round the wheel and descend below it.

Crossing the bridge, the road quits the river, or rather is left for a certain s.p.a.ce by it, until it meets it at the distance of a mile. This road is a favourite promenade of the inhabitants, and deservedly so. On each side, for the distance of a mile, it is bordered by hedges of magnificent rose-trees. These hedges are double on both sides, enclosing walks for the promenaders on foot. Behind those on the outside, the colours are varied by the pale green of the olive-tree; and over them occasional cl.u.s.ters of lime-trees, mingled with the acacia and laburnum, furnish shade, in case of an excess of sunshine. This promenade, flanked on one side by the hills, and on the other, by the highly cultivated plain, in parts of which the Tagus is seen occasionally to peep through its wooded banks, is most delicious during the rose season. I should especially recommend the visitor of Toledo to repair to it during the first hour after sunrise, when thronged with birds, which are here almost tame, and fill the air with their music; and also in the evening, when frequented by the mantilla-hooded fair of the city.

There is, however, notwithstanding the beauty and gay appearance of this profusion of roses, a singular effect produced by their situation.

Usually seen surrounded by other flowers or by well-kept gra.s.s or earth, they do not look quite themselves on the side on which they rest their bushy foundations on a dusty road, covered with deep ruts. The fish out of water forms a hackneyed, not to say a dried up, comparison; but we can compare the rather pallid and unnatural appearance of these plants to that of a bevy of ladies, who, tired of the monotony of a ball-room in Grosvenor Place, should resolve, precisely at the crisis when candle-light is more than ever required for their rather suffering complexions, to compel their partners to lead them, at sunrise, a galopade down Tattersall's yard. The roses, thus misplaced, are nevertheless roses, and cease not to be fair, in spite of their unusual _entourage_, and to contribute to the beauty and novelty of this picturesque promenade.

Amongst the variety of harmless weaknesses by which human imagination, and consequently human locomotion are influenced, I look upon one of the most irresistible (if such an epithet be applicable to a weakness) to be that fractional component part of the cravings of antiquarianism, which urges some persons in the search after, and rewards their labours on the discovery of, the locality supposed to be the birthscene of some great historical event, however insignificant in other respects, or even however loathsome its actual state may be to the outward senses. Thus, when, in Normandy, the worthy and probably waggish majordomo of the crumbling old castle of Falaise, directs your attention to the window from which Duke Robert caught the first glance of the ankle of William the Conqueror's mother,--as she pursued her professional labours, and polluted with her soapsuds the silver brook a quarter of a mile below him,--and suddenly yielded his soul to its irresistible beauty: notwithstanding the impossibility of the thing, many, and I confess myself one, are too delighted with the window, and the rivulet, and the majordomo, and the--G.o.d knows what!--perhaps with the very impossibility--to allow themselves a moment's sceptical or sarcastic feeling on the subject.

I should mention that my visit to Falaise happening to take place shortly after the pa.s.sage of the King of the French on a tour through his western provinces, the aforesaid cicerone pointed out a highly suspicious-looking inscription, being the initials of the monarch, carefully engraved in the stone; which he informed me had been cut by Louis Philippe, on the occasion of his visit at midnight to the room of Duke Robert; but of which I took the liberty of suspecting himself of being the sculptor, during some idle moment,--fond as he probably was of contemplating the innocently expressive countenances of his satisfied visitors.

Actuated by the feeling I have attempted to describe, one of my first inquiries at Toledo related to the well-known story of Florinda and her bath, so fatal to the Gothic sway in Spain. I was immediately directed to the spot, on which is seen a square tower, pierced by arched openings through its two opposite sides, and on a third side by a similar but smaller aperture. The four walls alone remain, and the whole is uncovered. This symmetrical-looking edifice, well built and composed of large stones, measures about sixteen feet square, and from forty to fifty in elevation, and stands on the edge of the river, on the town side, about a hundred yards below the western bridge--that called after Saint Martin--at the precise point at which the river quits the town, and its north bank ceases to be precipitous.

The extreme point of the termination of the high ground is immediately over the building, and is covered with the ruins of King Roderick's palace, the outer walls of which descend to the water, and are terminated by a small roundtower within a few yards of the quadrangular edifice. The edifice is called the Bano de la Cava, meaning Florinda's bath, although the native popular tradition, losing sight of the events of the history, has metamorphosed the heroine of the spot into a Moorish princess.

In fact, the rocky precipice terminates at this spot,--the last piece of rock forming part of the foundation of the square tower, immediately beyond which is a gently descending sand-bank most convenient and tempting to bathers. This circ.u.mstance, added to the situation of Roderick's residence, immediately above the scene, was delightfully corroborative of the tradition; and proved sufficiently, had all investigation ceased there, the ident.i.ty of the spot with the scene of the anecdote. Owing to an excess of curiosity a new discovery threw a doubt over the whole affair.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FLORINDA'S BATH.]

A bridge is too public a thoroughfare to allow of bathing to be practised in its immediate neighbourhood: and, in fact, the erection of the neighbouring one of St. Martin is of much later date than the events of the history in question. Fatal curiosity, however, led me to the back of the building,--the very bath of Florinda,--where it was impossible not to discover, even to conviction, that it, the square tower itself, had formerly been the entrance of a bridge. This is proved by the ruins of two piers, which appear above the water,--one near to the sh.o.r.e on which I was standing, the other near to the opposite bank, and both forming a line with the square tower on looking through its two opposite arches. The tower possesses other peculiarities which, compared with those belonging to the bridges actually in existence, fully confirm the supposition.

Now, although the tradition has christened the spot Bano de la Cava, which expression is translated "bath of the prost.i.tute," it is certain that Florinda was the daughter of Count Julian, governor of the Spanish possessions in Africa, and a personage of sufficient rank and influence to obtain a hearing at the court of the Arab Caliph, or at all events of his viceroy in Africa, and to conceive the idea of calling a foreign army to execute his private vengeance. It is therefore extremely improbable that the daughter of such a person should have been seen to measure and compare the proportions of her legs with those of her companions in the immediate vicinity of a bridge, necessarily the most frequented of thoroughfares.

I confess I left the spot filled with disappointment. In vain I reflected that after all the fact is fact--that the sensual Roderick may certainly have spied from behind a window-lattice the frolics of some ladies at their bath; and that, wherever his _espionage_ took place, he may for that purpose have intentionally procured himself a place of concealment, and have formed the resolution of possessing one of them.

In fact, it was a matter of indifference to me whether the circ.u.mstance had occurred or not, provided I should ascertain its whereabouts, supposing it real, instead of merely discovering the spot on which it did not take place.

Having thus convicted the generally received tradition of deceit,--at least, in one of its parts,--it became an object to discover some other version of the story, which might tally in a more satisfactory manner with present existing proofs. The Arab historians deny the invasion to have been brought about by any such occurrence; but Mariana, copied by more recent writers, has either discovered or compiled a very plausible story, clear in its details, only erroneous in respect of the heroine's name, which he makes out to be Cava. From this version the bath is entirely excluded.

According to the custom in Gothic Spain, the sons of the n.o.bles received their education in the royal palace, and on attaining the age of manhood, they formed an escort round the sovereign on all expeditions, whether to the field or the chase. Their daughters were likewise entrusted to the care of royalty, and attended the person of the Queen, after having completed their education and instruction in the accomplishments suited to their s.e.x, under her superintendence. When these n.o.ble damsels could number sufficient summers, their hands were bestowed according to the royal selection.

Among the attendants of Queen Egilona, was a daughter of Count Julian, possessed of extreme beauty. Florinda, while playing with her companions in a garden, situated on the banks of the Tagus, and overlooked by a tower, which contained a portion of Don Rodrigo's apartments, exposed to view, more than accorded either with etiquette or with her intention, the symmetry of her form. King Rodrigo, who, favoured by the concealment of a window-blind, had been watching the whole scene, became suddenly enamoured of her, and resolved to obtain a return of his pa.s.sion; but, after finding every effort useless, and his object unattainable, he at length employed violence.

Every circ.u.mstance of this story is corroborated, as far as is possible in the present time, by the position of the localities, the known customs of the period, and the character of King Roderick. But the historian Mariana, to show the minuteness and triumph of research, on which he has founded his relation, quotes the young lady's own version of the affair; in fact, no less interesting a doc.u.ment than her letter to her father, then in Africa, disclosing the insult offered to the family. The following is the translation of this portentous dispatch. A _billet-doux_ pregnant with greater events never issued from the boudoir of beauty and innocence.

"Would to Heaven, my lord and father!--Would to Heaven the earth had closed over me, before it fell to my lot to write these lines, and with such grievous news to cause you sadness and perpetual regret! How many are the tears that flow while I am writing, these blots and erasures are witnesses. And yet if I do not immediately, I shall cause a suspicion that not only the body has been polluted, but the soul likewise blotted and stained with perpetual infamy. Would I could foresee a term to our misery!--Who but yourself shall find a remedy for our misfortunes? Shall we delay, until time brings to light that which is now a secret, and the affront we have received entail on us a shame more intolerable than death itself? I blush to write that which I am bound to divulge. O wretched and miserable fate! In a word, your daughter--your blood, that of the kingly line of the Goths, has suffered from King Rodrigo,--to whose care, alas! she was entrusted like the sheep to the wolf,--a most wicked and cruel affront. It is for you, if you are worthy the name of a man, to cause the sweet draught of our ruin to become a deadly poison to his life; nor to leave unpunished the mockery and insult he has cast on our line and on our house."

Don Julian, who, as some say, was of royal descent, and a relative, not far removed, of Roderick--was possessed of qualities no less marked by daring than artifice. His plans well digested, he committed his government in Africa to the charge of a deputy, and repaired to the court at Toledo. There he made it his business to advance in credit and favour until the moment should arrive for action. His first step was, by means of false alarms of attacks meditated on the northern frontier, to get rid of the princ.i.p.al part of the disposable forces in that direction. Meanwhile he caused a letter from his Countess, who remained in Africa, to be forwarded to the King, in which, on the plea of serious illness, she urgently entreats the royal permission for the departure of Florinda to Ceuta. It is related that the profligate Rodrigo consented to the journey with so much the better grace, that possession had divested the attractions of his victim of all further hold of his pa.s.sions, already under the dominion of new allurements.

There is a gate at Malaga, giving issue towards the sea-sh.o.r.e, which bears to this day the name of Gate of the Cava: through it she is said to have pa.s.sed on embarking for Africa.

With regard to the name "la Cava" given to the gate and to the bath, I am disposed to prefer the popular notion to the a.s.sertion of Mariana, that it was her name. It is a natural supposition that the anecdote of the affair of Toledo, spread among the Arabs, who, for centuries after this period, were the depositaries of the annals and traditions of the Peninsula,--should have become tinted with a colour derived from their customs and ideas. Now it would be difficult to persuade an Arab that the circ.u.mstances of the story in question could befall a virtuous female, surrounded with the thousand precautions peculiar to an oriental court. If we add to this the contemptuous tone a.s.sumed by them towards those of the hostile creed--a tone that must have suited in an especial degree with their way of thinking on the subject of female deportment among the Christians, which they look upon as totally devoid of delicacy and reserve--the epithet applied to Florinda is easily accounted for. But to return to the story.

It only now remained for Don Julian to determine the Caliph's viceroy in Africa in favour of the invasion. Repairing to his court, he obtained an audience, in which he painted to the Prince, in such eloquent terms, the natural and artificial wealth of the Spanish peninsula, the facility of the enterprise, owing to the absence of the princ.i.p.al part of the disposable hostile force, and the unpopularity of King Rodrigo, that an expedition was immediately ordered; which, although at first prudently limited to a small troop under Tharig, led to the conquest, in a few campaigns, of the whole Peninsula.

Mingled with the ruins of Roderick's palace are seen at present those of the monastery of Saint Augustin, subsequently erected on the same site: but on the side facing the river, the ancient wall and turrets, almost confounded with the rock, on which they were built, have outlived the more recent erections, or perhaps have not been interfered with by them.

Immediately beyond the portion of these walls, beneath which is seen the Bano de la Cava, they turn, together with the brink of the precipice, abruptly to the north, forming a right angle with the river bank: this part faces the western _vega_ or valley, and looks down on the site of the ancient palace gardens, which occupied the first low ground. They extended as far as the chapel of Santa Leocadia. The ground is now traversed by the road to the celebrated sword-blade manufactory, situated on the bank of the river, half a mile lower down. With the exception of the inmates of that establishment, the only human beings who frequent the spot are the votaries on their way to the shrine of Santa Leocadia, and the convicts of a neighbouring _Presidio_ in search of water from the river.

LETTER IX.

CATHEDRAL OF TOLEDO.

Toledo.

Every successive aera of civilization, with the concomitant religion on which it has been founded, and from which it has taken its peculiar mould, has, after maintaining its ground with more or less l.u.s.tre, and throughout a greater or smaller duration, arrived at its inevitable period of decline and overthrow.

In ceasing, however, to live, and to fill society far and wide with its enlightening influence,--in exchanging its erect att.i.tude for the prostrate one consequent on its fall,--seldom has a creed, which has long held possession of the most enlightened intellects of our race for the time being, undergone an entire extinction, so as to disappear altogether from the face of the earth, and leave no trace of its existence. The influence of the soil, formation, and climate of the region, in the bosom of which such civilization has had its birth, on the dispositions and faculties of the race which has become its depositary, has always set its peculiar mark on its monuments, whether civil, military, or religious, but especially the last; which monuments, surviving the reign of the power to which they owe their existence, prolong and sanctify its memory, while they stand, erect and silent, over its grave; and furnish valuable information and benefit to those future generations sufficiently enlightened to consult them.

If this theory of successions and vicissitudes be consonant (which probably no one will deny) with the march of events on the surface of this our planet, then do the circ.u.mstances of the present situation invest, as far as regards Spain, those relics of human genius and human enthusiasm, the venerable temples of her declining faith, with an interest beyond that which they have possessed at any period since their foundation. It is impossible to have paid any attention to the events of the last few years, without having received the conviction that the reign of Christianity is here fast approaching,--not the commencement, but the termination of its decline. Spaniards will never do things by halves; and will probably prefer the entire overthrow of ancient customs to the system pursued in France, of propping up, by government enactments and salaries, a tottering edifice of external forms, long since divested of its foundation of public belief.