CHAPTER II

THE ALHAMBRA

(MAY-NOVEMBER 1831)

THE ALHAMBRA--ADDINGTON’S VISIT--TOUR TO ALICANTE, VALENCIA, BARCELONA, ZARAGOZA, MADRID--RETURN TO THE ALHAMBRA

When Ford wrote to Addington in April 1831, he was hesitating between a furnished house at Granada or rooms in the ruined palace of the Alhambra. Poetry conquered prose; comfort gave way to romance. His letter of June 7th, 1831, announces that he had installed himself in the palace.

Granada and the Alhambra are places which seem to rise above the prosaic level of the working world and catch the last gleams of mediæval romance. The very mention of their names conjures up pageants of chivalry and splendid visions of departed glory. Soil and climate increase the fascination and deepen the spell which is cast upon the imagination. The verdure of a northern climate spreads itself beneath the cloudless azure of the south. Olive-yards, orange-groves, and vineyards clothe the hills, gardens embroider the valleys, billows of corn wave in the plains, of that enchanted region over which hung the celestial Paradise of Mahomet. Here, hemmed in between the mountains and the sea, and narrowed within the space of ten years, till its events assume the distinctness and unity of an epic, was concentrated the final struggle which closed the drama of Moorish domination in Spain. Every spot recalls some scene in the conflict, and the “last sigh of the Moor” still whispers on the heights above Granada. In that Holy War historical truth outrivalled romantic fiction; the manners, customs, creeds of the East and the West contended for supremacy; the splendour of steel-clad chivalry met the roar and crash of artillery; the Middle Ages were locked in the death-grapple with modern civilisation.

The journey from Seville to Granada followed the high road to Madrid as far as Andujar. Leaving the _diligence_ at that place, the Fords drove from Andujar to Granada by way of Jaen in a _coche de colleras_. Their carriage was a huge machine belonging to the seventeenth century, carved, gilded, and richly painted, set on wheels which were as extravagantly high behind as they were low in front. It was drawn by four mules, driven by the voice, whip, and stones of the driver (_majoral_) and his helper (_zagal_). But the picturesque novelty of the expedition was the guard of six _Miquelites_ who accompanied the carriage. These men, drawn from a regular body which was organised throughout Spain for the protection of travellers, are said to derive their name from Miquel de Prats, a bravo in the train of Cæsar Borgia. Well armed with short guns, swords, and pistols, dressed in a sort of uniform of blue jackets trimmed with red, they were all young men picked for their strength and activity. Many of them had previously been smugglers or bandits, and were held in wholesome dread by their former colleagues.

Thus escorted, the journey was performed without risk, and Ford, with his wife and family, safely lodged in the Alhambra. The palace, whitewashed by the monks and purified from Moslem abominations, or wrecked by Charles V. to supply materials for new palaces, had fallen into neglect and decay. It had been an asylum for debtors, a hospital for invalid soldiers, a prison for galley-slaves. From 1798 onwards it was the official residence of Spanish governors, who made good use of their opportunity for plunder. The dados were broken up to make firewood for cooks and bakers; the tiles were torn up and worked into shop fronts; the leaden pipes which supplied the fountains were sold. A donkey was stabled in the chapel, sheep were folded in the courtyards, poultry penned in the halls. The French invaders converted it into a barrack, a powder magazine, a store for plundered goods, and, when they evacuated it, blew up eight of the Moorish towers. The work of gutting the place was continued by the Spaniards, who tore down doors, wrenched off locks, and carried off panes of glass. When Ford was there galley-slaves were at work converting, to the chink of their chains, a part of the building into a storehouse for salt fish. The first real attempt to restore the Alhambra was made by a peasant woman, Francisca de Molina, the “Tia Antonia” of Washington Irving.

She worked with her own hands to repair the ravages of her predecessors, cleared away rubbish, set the famous lions on their legs in the courtyard, and reigned, with her two chattering mercenary nieces, the crabbed Queen and lioniser of the Alhambra. In the rooms which she had occupied Ford was lodged.

From the Alhambra, more beautiful, probably, in its ruin than in its restoration, most of the letters contained in this chapter were written. Here Ford entertained Addington, and to the Alhambra he returned in November, 1831, from the tour which he describes.

Ten miles from Granada is the Sota de Roma, or Wood of the Pomegranate, an estate of 4000 acres, conferred by the Cortes on the Duke of Wellington in gratitude for his victory at Salamanca. Owing to difficulties of exchange, Ford had arranged that the Duke should receive his income in England, while he drew an equivalent sum from the Duke’s Spanish estates. The agent was General O’Lawlor, an Irish gentleman in the Spanish military service. Don José, as Ford calls him, had married a wealthy heiress from Malaga, the “Dionysia” of the letters, and had made profitable investments of her money in the lead mines of Berja. Ford found the society of the O’Lawlors pleasant, as also were the green-gages in the garden attached to the old rambling house which was the agent’s residence.

His letters show little trace of the disturbed condition of the country. Yet all round him were signs of the reign of terror produced by panic of rebellion. One execution struck him, in all its circumstances, as peculiarly brutal. By express orders from Madrid, a young woman of good birth, Mariana de Pineda,[13] was, in May 1831, garrotted at Granada. Pardon was offered her if she would reveal the names of her accomplices. She refused, and died by the hand of the public executioner. Her alleged crime was the possession of a partially embroidered flag of green silk, the Constitutionalist colours. Whether she was guilty or not seems to be doubtful. It was at least alleged that the flag had been placed in her house by a Government _employé_, Ramon Pedroza, whose suit she had rejected. A column near the Triunfo now marks the site of her sacrifice to a longing for liberty.

ALHAMBRA, _June 7 [1831]_.

DEAR ADDINGTON,

I am almost tempted to go down a crumbling staircase, which leads from my kitchen into the _Sala de los Embajadores_, to indite my epistle from a _local conveniente a sa Ecc_. I am busy up here with a troop of painters and carpenters putting the part of the Alhambra given up to the Alcaide, and by him to me, into order: no small task, I can assure you, for, what with time, the French, and the barbarous Spaniards, all this enchanted spot is going the way of everything in Spain. To attempt any account of it would be impossible, either by pen or pencil. No previous idea can come up to the exquisite beauty of the Alhambra. Here we are, with the most delicious breezes from the snowy mountain above us, perfumed by a thousand groves and gardens of vine, orange, and pomegranate, carolled by nightingales, who daily and nightly sing in the dark grove to the tune of “Ally Croker,”[14] all by the side of gushing streams and never-failing fountains. Here summer cometh not--_not_ in the way that it appears _not to come_ in Castille; but, while all below in the town and _Vega_ are roasting, broiling, and baking, we neither know it nor feel it.

The journey here was very prosperous. _Esposa y sa servidor_ started alone in the _diligence_ to Cordova. The heat without intense, inside (_six inside_) infernal. Ecija, another hell, and well deserves to be called _La sartenilla_ [the frying-pan] _de Andalucia_. We remained at Cordova three days; in the ancient _mezquita_ a wood of pillars, some eight hundred odd, to say nothing of the holy chapel of the Moslems, _La Ceca_, which is finer and better preserved than anything even here, owing to the _purification of Sn. Fernando’s_ monks, which was simply daubing over with plaster of Paris all the painted arabesque and delicate damascene work of the Moor. A few years ago all this impurification was removed, and the worshippers of Mahomet and the fine arts made happy. Thence to Andujar per _diligence_. Thence in a _coche_ with nine _Miquelites_ to Granada, by Jaen. The road to Jaen through ploughed fields, uninhabited except by the gang of the _Botiga_, the José Maria of Jaen; but we neither saw nor heard of him, and duly arrived, well shaken, at the worst inn in Spain. Jaen very striking and picturesque. I was much bored by the _commandante_, one Downie, who has forgotten English, but came to pay me a visit.

Thence to Granada, through the mountains, the most beautiful road (_quoad_ road) possible, a thing to delight Macadam. The scenery to delight any son of Adam with or without a Mac, full of torrents, rivers, rocks, precipices, goats, vines, figs, lights and shades, etc., but wanting in good accommodation for man or beast. So we went direct the seventeen leagues, seventeen mortal mountain leagues, at a pull, twenty-three hours _en coche_; think of that, Master Brook![15] The _Miquelites_, being well supplied with strong cigars of the worst Royal fabrication, ran and sang the whole way.

Arrived here at a most excellent inn, the best I have seen in Spain, and forgot all our woes at

the first sight of the Albaicin, Generalife, and Alhambra, with the cold, snowy, sparkling Sierra glistening in the blue cloudless sky. Then such an _airecillo_: not the one in the _calle Alcalá_ that goes through your _Capa_ and upper Benjamin in the twinkling of a bedpost, but a mild, gentle, refreshing, reinvigorating breeze. Then such a profusion of tree and water. General O’Lawlor, very civil, has procured me the Governor’s suite of apartments in the Alhambra, one staircase of which leads into the _Sala de los Embajadores_ (as aforesaid), where I hope and trust to have the honour of receiving the present one of his B.M. The other leads to the _Patio de los Leones_, which beat Pidcock’s lions, and are lions worth seeing.

All very quiet. They were prepared to rise had the thing succeeded at Cadiz, but as that did _not_, they think little about it, but eat their ices as usual.

There has been a horrid execution here, which was calculated to excite a revolution anywhere. A beautiful widow, connected with high families, was _garrotted_, solely for a Constitutional flag, with a half-embroidered motto, having been found in her possession. She refused to give any account of it herself, or any accomplices. The matter was sent to Madrid, and down came, to the equal horror and surprise of every one, an order for her execution! a woman executed for such an offence _anno_ 1831! They certainly manage these things differently in Spain.

If you come, you must do so _per diligence_ to Andujar, and thence ride in two days across the country with three or four of these stout _Miquelites_. You will find every comfort in the inn, and I am now constructing a sort of a grate, the sweet vision of Your Excellency’s excellent, super-excellent, _rost-bif_ ever floating before my eyes as the hour of 6 approaches. I cannot promise such fare as it was my lot to consume at Madrid, and which sent me back to the conjugal embrace _Epicuri de grege porcum_. But you shall dine in the fabled palace of the Moorish kings: the fountains shall play, and a band of _Gitanas_ shall dance their half-voluptuous dance around you; you shall drink the purest, coldest water from the Moorish cistern, which is opposite my window, and which I am supplied with _gratis_: (it costing to the public an _ocharo per cantaro_);[16] you shall eat the delicious ice, the _Queso de albaricoqui_; and, last of all, a most hearty welcome from

S. S. S. y amigo,

R. F.

P. S.--_Mr. Sᵗᵉ Barbe_, _el ingles afrancesado_, and Mr. de Custine, _el Frances inglesado_, being duly dressed as _majos_ by Pindar of Seville, departed for Tariffa, where the Marquis tells me he is going to write “some poem about the good Guzman.” They are then coming here. I shall entertain them in the Alhambra, and be immortalised in a note by this poetical Marquis.

My wife thinks she can manage a room and a sort of a bed for you and your man. It appears inhospitable in me to talk of the inn, but the Alhambra is but a ruin; however, you shall choose yourself. _Utrum horum mavis accipe._

ALHAMBRA, _June 15 [1831]_.

I am very sorry that, at this distance from my worthy friend the _Assistente_, there is no chance of extracting from him the information you want, which I think I could have managed at Seville in a _careless_ way. If I were to write to him, he would instantly be alarmed, and attach great importance to it. I enclose a letter to Lord Dudley for Mr. de Gersdorf (?) instead of one to Lord Essex; a letter to Lord Essex would be of no use, for he has now totally abandoned and shut up Cassiobury, which _was_ very well worth seeing when he lived there; secondly, he lives entirely in a set of his own, and I know from long experience hates nothing like the sight of a foreigner;--as he expresses himself, “damn all foreigners; none shall put their foot in my house.”

I am comfortably settled here, after much painting and whitewashing, and, if you can steal away from Madrid, can give you a tidy bedroom and sitting-room, with a view out of the windows quite unequalled. The difference in the thermometer here and in the town below is some 6 or 8 degrees; then we have always such a delicious breeze, and such a constant trickling and splashing of fountains. I am sorry to say that the _Lions_ are all adry, and the flowers in the courtyard past dying; a wall fell down the other day, which supported the aqueduct, which used to supply these cool courts. They are fast repairing it, but it is a work of great extent, and the Spaniards do not do things in an offhand style here any more than at Madrid. We have had a rare party of English Tigers, looking at the Lions; they flock out from Gibraltar, now the communication is again open, and astonish the natives in their red jackets, redder faces, and the quantity of undiluted wine they consume. Captain Pascoe, a gentlemanlike man, _aide-de-camp_ to General Don, has been here.

We are going to be regaled with more executions--two officers who were found tampering with their troops. (They deserve it; but poor Mariana! who might have been spared.)

It is impossible to describe, either by pen or pencil, the extraordinary freshness and beauty of this spot, so take time by the forelock, and, as Ovid says:

_Nil mihi rescribas, attamen, ipse veni._

ALHAMBRA, _Sunday, 14th June, /31_.

I am delighted to hear that you are really coming here; you will find at least a clean bed, and a clean dinner, with no oil or garlic.

You must put up with the unfurnished, whitewashed sort of way we are living in, which is unlike the gorgeous mansion in Alcala Street.

Everything is arranged, and you will find a _coche_ at Andujar, and a sufficient number of _Miquelites_. They have lately taken so many robbers, executed some, banished others, that the road is quite safe. I should recommend your buying some cigars at Andujar, which, being duly distributed to the men, _majorals_, and innkeepers, will act like magic. I expended a dollar in them on my journey, and am celebrated in _los cuatro reinos_ as the greatest and most affable milor ever seen since the ‘grand Lord’ commanded in Spain.

I have written to Downie, to get the inn ready for you, and to provide, if possible, some partridges, and not have you bothered with ceremony, guards, or visits,--all which he nevertheless will doubtless inflict on you, calculating by the Rule of 3 principle. If he did such and such things for a simple milor, what will he do for an _embajador_?

I have duly instructed O’Lawlor on your being left quiet, which I think you will be, at least in the Alhambra, as no Spaniard has courage to face the hill, or any wish to see anything of their much superior predecessors, the Moors.

The 20th, or thereabouts, is the time to go up the Sierra Nevada. I am thinking of taking my wife that trip, so you may imagine it is not attended with much difficulty. It is a glorious mountain, though the dog-days have played the devil with the snow. Still there is enough left to swear by, and to cool one’s wine. By God’s blessing, a quarter-cask of sherry has made its appearance in Granada, otherwise you would have got nothing but _Bara_, a sort of clarety-porty wine, not bad in water, but very disagreeable to British officers, as they find it too weak to drink in goblets this hot weather. The weather has been very hot, but getting cooler,--down to 72 at night.

You will have a terrible bad road to Jaen, and I should set out very early, before 4, and get into Jaen before the great heat of the day. Set out again early for Campillo de la Arena, half way to Granada. I remained there four or five hours in the day, and came on in the night, getting here very early in the morning. I would, however, not recommend that to you. You had better sleep at Campillo, where you will get _partridges_, on asking if there are any to be bought in the village.

By setting out betimes, you will get here in nine or ten hours, and I will take care and have a _roast pavito_ [young cock turkey], which is equivalent to a London fowl, ready for you.

My wife is frightened at the thoughts of our cuisine, but I assure her that you are an ex-dyspeptic, and not very difficult, rather more in that you do _not_ eat than in what you do.

My Spanish servant (who calls himself my _major duomo_) wants me to borrow a service of plate, and have the dinners sent up from the inn!! Lord deliver us! They are curious people, _muy Etiqueteros_ (I can’t even spell the word), and think we are as great asses as themselves. What we have here are delicious eggs--laid under your window, fine fruit, tolerable mutton, good bread and water, and a jack for roasting, the only one in Granada, to say nothing of cool breezes, cool fountains (though they don’t play), much shade, many nightingales (though they don’t sing now), and plenty of snow, and a view, from the windows and all about, passing all understanding; but you will see with your own eyes and hear with your own ears, so no more for the present.

ALHAMBRA, _June 22 [1831]_.

DEAR ADDINGTON,

I am going to give you proper and business-like answers to your six questions, and I think satisfactory ones to all.

1. The inn is the best in Spain, but very crowded and very _hot_, a long way from the Alhambra, and all up hill--quite out of the question, except early and late. You may, to be sure, ride up, and General O’Lawlor will send you a horse whenever you want; but I enclose you a plan of my dwelling up here, which is very spacious, and where I can accommodate you well and without the least inconvenience. You will then see the Alhambra in your dressing-gown, cool and comfortable, and never get heated or tired. You will, too, be within reach of the Generalife, which, if possible, is more beautiful than the Alhambra. It is about as high above the Alhambra as the Alhambra is above the town; but a tolerable shady walk through fig-trees, vines and pomegranates.

2. The getting here will be _easily_ accomplished in a _coche_--that is, every bone will be broken, but, however, get here you will. I should take the _diligence_ to Baylen, and thence in one day to Jaen in the _coche_. The road, I am told, is tolerable. I came from Andujar, which would be out of your way--the road the most infernal ever seen. From Jaen to Granada it is magnificent; Macadam never made a better, and the scenery most beautiful and picturesque. We came in one day--that is, left Jaen early, 3 a.m., arrived at Campillo de Arenas about 1, halted till 5, eating salad and _Guisado de Perdices_ at the Venta; thence _per_ night to Granada, where we arrived about 4 a.m. The whole journey from Jaen takes about twenty hours _en route_. You might do it quicker without _Miquelites_, as it is a long pull (seventeen leagues) for men to walk in one day; thermometer at 3000, and up hill. Now if your plans really do ripen into reality, what you should do is this: let me know the day you leave Madrid; the third night you will get to Andujar or Baylen. I will send over the identical _coche_ which brought us, a roomy one with four mules, and an excellent _majoral_, who will buy you partridges at the Venta, etc. The cost will be 29 dollars for the six days there and back. I will manage with O’Lawlor that a troop of _Miquelites_, eight or nine, shall be picked men, and sent with the _coche_. I gave them 25 dollars for nine men eight days. They generally get a _pezeta_ apiece, but half a dollar is what they well deserve, as they are fine fellows.

3. I know the _commandante_ at Jaen, who will choose the best. The said _commandante_, Downie, the d--st bore in Jaen, Spain, or anywhere, will call upon you and plague your heart out with bad English, etc.

My silver watch is excellent, and cost three dollars at Madrid. I should think you might buy Mr. Pearson’s, who bought one too for one dollar.[17]

4. I hear there is some shooting here; but August is very hot, except up in the Sierra Nevada, where I propose going, as the view is superb--Mediterranean, Atlantic, Africa, etc. The Pico de Valeta is easily ascended in August.

5. The post comes in very regularly twice a week, and goes out the day after--from Madrid in three days and a half. The letters do not appear to be opened.

6. Plenty of hats, white and black straw and chip, in Granada; the men here are the greatest dandies in Spain, and are not at all ill dressed.

I should not think you will be much bothered. O’Lawlor is a sensible man, and does not bore one, but is very civil, and will be of great use in every way, and a _banker_ besides. As he has to remit money to the Duke of Wellington, he is glad of good bills on London.

Your journey here will take you six days; there is not much, I believe, in Granada to be seen. I seldom go there, except in the cool dark night, to eat ices. _This_ is the place; you will _see_ it in a morning; but the more one lives in it, the more delightful it is. The walks about are charming. If you live in the town, you will not see much more of the Alhambra than those brutes the natives, who think it _fabrica antiqua, obra de los arabes_, to which they seem to have an antipathy.

You must make up your mind to fare but indifferently here when compared to your own good _ménage_; but we can, at all events, serve you up a clean dinner, and without any poisonous matters. At all events you must not think of going to the inn; you may as well stay where you are, as far as the Alhambra is concerned.

Ever most sincerely,

RICH. FORD.

_July 27 [1831]_, ALHAMBRA.

I am afraid, as you say nothing about your journey to Granada, that you have had bad news from home; all work and no play. How unlucky all this business about the free trade of Cadiz, and the voluminous speculations thereon by my friend the Proconsul; to say nothing of despatches from Hopner to plague your heart out. Well, well! _no tiene remedio_. I only mention all this, as it is considered unlucky here not to ascend the _Pico de Valeta_ about this time, in some of these three or four “glorious days” of July, glorious Dog Days; _son en canicula_. However, we managed to keep our thermometer under 80, which is not more than the heat at Paris, as I see _per_ Galignani--for which accept my greatest thanks--that true pabulum of an Englishman. The three received yesterday were very amusing: the debate on the reform, Macaulay’s essay oratorical, Porchester’s discourse peninsular and historical, Wetherell droll and coarsish, some _lucid intervals_, as was said of that part of his shirt which always appears between his breeches and waistcoat; Peel sentential and sonorous in the Joseph Surface school; and bravo! old Sir Francis Burdett, who gave him a sound drubbing. For all that, I would vote against the bill, professing myself a _bit by bit_ reformer. The Tories may thank themselves, for the people could not but see, after that Bassetlaw job,[18] that they would do nothing for them.

Monʳ de Sᵗᵉ Barbe and A. Custine, Esq., have duly started for Madrid with his unfinished MSS. By speaking bad English, the one is forgetting his French--the other, the wholesome vernacular tongue as expressed in Hampshire. I don’t think they took kindly to the Alhambra; however, you will see and hear. I have begged the Marquis de Sᵗᵉ Barbe to give you some account of my _Local_ and poor means of receiving so great a personage as your Excellency. I can only say that it will be _con muchisimo agrado_. Mrs. Ford has got a Pajes,[19] and there is a dark glancing Spaniard washing clothes in the Alhambra, to whom you may pour forth your amatory _rondeñas_.

I rather think that, about the middle of September, I shall come up to Madrid with my spouse for a very few days, show her Toledo and the Escurial, and return by a short cut (to diddle _Castaños_) through Zaragoça, Barcelona, and Valencia. This little trip will occupy very well a couple of the autumnal months; and then on to Malaga; and should any rows take place, and the consular protection of the apostolic Mark be insufficient, I shall place myself under the batteries of Gibraltar: so much for plans. If you have time, you may let me have a line as to yours, whether we have any chance of your visit. You really should come, for, depend on it, the old woman of the Alhambra, in whose house we are living, will never let the Governor turn her out again, and if you do not live in the Alhambra, you may as well remain in the Calle de Alcalá.

During Addington’s stay at the Alhambra, Ford, his wife, and their guest ascended the Picacho de la Veleta, “the watch-point,” the second highest peak (12,459 feet) of the Sierra Nevada. The greater part of the ascent to the top of the conical peak, about twenty miles, was ridden, the party sleeping for the night at the Cortijo del Puche.

After Addington had left, the Fords started (September 9th, 1831) on an expedition to eastern Spain, Mrs. Ford on a donkey, her husband on horseback, and their servant Pasqual in a one-horse, two-wheeled, covered cart. They made their way over the mountains by Elche, the “City of Palms,” to Alicante; thence by San Felipe de Xativa, the birthplace of Ribera (Spagnoletto) and Pope Alexander VI., and the prison of his son Cæsar Borgia, to Valencia.

At Valencia Ford stayed several days, delighting in the pictures of Vicente Joanes[20] and Francisco Ribalta.[21] Thence he made his way by Murviedro (Saguntum) to Tarragona and Barcelona. On the road from Barcelona to Tarragona they turned aside to see Montserrat, spent a night in the convent on the jagged saw-like hills, dropped down on Manresa and the famous _cueva de san Ignacio_, visited the salt mines at Cardona, rejoined the high road and the _diligence_, and so reached Zaragoza.

Zaragoza, the pilgrim city of Arragon, “the Ephesus of Mariolatry,” as Ford calls it in his _Handbook_, has two cathedrals, the _Seu_, and _El Pilar_. The latter marks the spot where the Virgin, standing on a jasper pillar, bade St. James build a chapel in her honour. At the time of Ford’s visit to the city its houses were still riddled and pitted with shot-marks. They were the honourable scars of two memorable sieges, of which Agustina, “La Artillera,” the maid of Zaragoza who snatched the match from a dying artilleryman and fired upon the French, and Tio Jorge, “Gaffer George,” who organised the peasants for the defence, were the real heroes. The first siege lasted from June 15th to August 15th, 1808. Led, as they believed, by the Virgin of the Pillar, the inhabitants fought with desperate courage. It was in the convent of Santa Engracia that the French effected a lodgment. On August 15th, those of the invaders who survived had retreated, after blowing up the monastery and leaving it in ruins. The attack was renewed on December 20th. Four marshals of France directed the operations of the siege. Shot and shell, plague and famine, did their work within the walls. On February 20th, 1809, after holding out for sixty-two days, Zaragoza surrendered to Marshal Lannes.

_Saturday, 3rd Sept. [1831]_, ALHAMBRA.

I hope you got quite safely to Andujar in that tremendous machine you started in. We are off on Thursday for Alicante: Pasqual in a _Tartana_, wife on the _Burra_, and your humble servant on _Cavallo_. With a troop of Miquelites we shall, I trust, get safely to Alicante, and publish in due time a rival account of Mr. Inglis,[22] another traveller _ingles_.

My wife kisses your hands, I your feet, offering you my kitchenmaid, four children, and the _Burra_, and anything else.

VALENCIA, _Saturday, 24 Sept. [1831]_.

DEAR ADDINGTON,

We arrived here yesterday, having ridden from Granada to Alicante, and thence to Xativa, a most magnificent mountain ride, full of old towns, perched on rocks, and sheltered by ruined castles, narrow defiles, precipices and torrents. The accommodation and roads infinitely better than we had been led to expect, so that my wife, riding on the foal of an ass, arrived at Alicante hardly fatigued.

San Philipe de Xativa is one of the most picturesque towns in Spain, not even excepting Granada. The famous country about Valencia may be very fertile, and rich, and extremely agreeable to the eye of the proprietor, but very little so to the traveller, as the mulberry and olive trees on each side of the road, in so flat a country, completely intercept the view.

I see in the papers that you have had to interfere for some English artist, who was taken up for sketching the Palace at Madrid, which you will probably have to do some day for me, as I was nearly taken to the Alcalde for drawing some palm trees at Elche; but, on telling the officer that he and the Alcalde might go to _Carrajo_, and refusing to go, the thing passed off; to be sure, I had six of the Alhambra invalids with me, and might have ordered them to bring the Alcalde to me, which would have been the best way after all. I shall remain here four or five days, and thence proceed to Barcelona and Zaragoça, to either of which places, if any crumbs of comfort fall from your table in the way of Galignani, they may be addressed, at all events to the latter place, Zaragoça.

I left Dionysia in great force, and Don José much delighted at the honour of your Excellency’s visit. The Captain-General wrote me two notes after you were gone, one addressed to me as _Gentilhombre de S. M. Britanica_ and the second to Lord Ricardo Fort. There is no saying what I might not have come to be had I remained there a few days longer.

Valencia seems to be a nice place; the women as pretty here as the Granadinas are ugly.

Ever most truly yours,

RICHARD FORD.

VALENCIA, _Wed., 28th [Sept. 1831]_.

DEAR ADDINGTON,

Here we are still, and shall remain until Friday, when we go over to Murviedro, to potter about the ruined Saguntum till the Saturday _diligence_ comes through to take us on to Tarragona. As far as my _finances_ are concerned, I had perhaps better not have come here, for I have been tempted by a certain picture of Ribalta, and have given 11,000 reals for it, a large sum here, or anywhere; but it is a stupendous picture, and of the very grandest finest class, and worth £500. However, tell not this in Gath or Askalon, for I always make it a rule _crier au pauvre_, which an extravagance like this would infallibly contradict. I have just written to that worthy Israelite, Ravasa, to send me a credit of 4000 reals to Zaragoça, Burgos, and Valladolid in case of accidents, and have referred him again to you to say a word as to my being a _solvent_ person, though I am afraid, after the Gold Rosario of the Senora and the Ribalta of Milor, you will rather hesitate this time. However, if you still think me responsible, write a line to Ravasa to tell him that he may venture his monies, and that I will honestly repay him when I reach Madrid.

We go to Barcelona, and by Zaragoça and Segovia to Madrid, where I hope we shall arrive about the first week in November.

This is a very nice place, and I regret that it is impossible to convey my _impedimenta_ here, as I should much have liked to have spent the winter here, instead of Gibraltar, where I take refuge to escape the protection of His M. Consul at Malaga, from whom I have had such a letter which I am keeping for your amusement. Chico’s motto of “there is no conqueror but God”[23] is nothing to the account Mark gives of himself.

The pictures they possess here are endless, almost as many as at Seville; but, if possible, even still more neglected and unknown, not unknown only by the natives, but by the dignitaries and heads of the churches, and going to ruin from neglect, damp, dust, and smoke. No information of any kind is ever to be obtained; “_No sé_” [I don’t know] the universal answer. The fine pictures are kept merely as objects of idolatry, not as matters of art, and called as such; if you ask for the Virgin of Juanes, the sacristan or curate knows nothing about it; but ask for the _Purissima_ and up goes a curtain in a minute.

The women are very pretty indeed, fairer than the Andalucians, quite as small feet and much better shoes, not so tight or pointed. I do not know when the seventh commandment has run such risks.

To-morrow, Friday, we go to Murviedro and thence to Barcelona.

Ever most sincerely,

RICHARD FORD.

BARCELONA, _Oct. 9_.

Your letter with the papers reached this place quite safely, as did we some four or five days ago; and, being heartily tired of these Catalonians, who are neither Spaniards nor French, are going to set out to-morrow for the Salt Mountain at Cardona and the monastery of Monserrat, and thence to Zaragoça, where we expect to arrive the 16th, and proceed directly afterwards to Madrid, as we find we shall have much difficulty in crossing the country to Burgos. I hope we may manage to get to _La Corte_ about Saturday, the 22nd, _si Dios quiere_ [God willing], and shall be both proud and happy to be installed in the Duchess’s dry dock.

This is a fine town, but not Spanish. The troops have shoes instead of sandals, and, I believe, stockings. They can roast at the inn, and have mustard and French wines. The women wear mantillas over caps, and commit divers other equally un-Spanish atrocities; people stupid and ill-mannered; a horrid language; all the discomforts and prohibitions of Spain, without being made up for by the curious and original people of the South; women ugly and coarse; men in large high trousers, looking like Cruickshank’s prints of “nobody, all legs.” Everything in perfect order and quiet. The name of the Conde de España does here what that of Quesada does in Andalucia. They are all frightened about the cholera, and the quarantine regulations most severe. The Captain-General has sent to England for _four gallons_ of Cajeput oil, which for a population of more than 100,000 is a fair stock.

ZARAGOÇA, _Oct. 18_.

DEAR ADDINGTON,

We arrived here quite safely on Sunday in a tremendous storm of rain, having stuck in the mud divers times during our journey, and being extricated by the spades of peasants and many supplications to the _Santissima Virgen del Pilar_, whose effigy I have bought in consequence.

On our arrival here, to my utter dismay and discomfiture, I found no letter from V. E., and, worse, no letter of credit from that arch-circumcised dog, Ravisa, to whom I had written from Valencia at the same time as I wrote you, but which letters must, from some Spanish mismanagement, have never reached their destination. Well! here we are with about 800 reals in our pocket,--no means of getting any more, the bill to pay, and the places to Madrid some 600 or 700 more. I had, like a fool, refused a letter of credit from my Barcelona banker, trusting to that Philistine Ravisa. Henceforward I have vowed before the _Pilar_ of Zaragoça never to trust to Jew or Christian again. In this quandary, the post to-day from Madrid having brought no letter, I have despatched my eloquent, mellifluous-tongued Pasqual, who has persuaded the _diligence_ to take us to Madrid without our paying here, my wife, Pasqual, and the luggage to be detained in pledge at the office until the dollars are regularly booked up. It would be a rare opportunity for a husband who wanted to break up his establishment to leave these tender pledges unredeemed; but I do not propose doing so if your Excellency will interfere, and this is _dignus vindice nodus_. My plan is to start on Friday; we are to arrive at Madrid on Sunday, time uncertain, somewhere between 12 and 5. Will you therefore be so good as to put up 600 or 700 reals in a paper directed to me, and leave it with your porter? I shall get out at the P. de Alcalá, pass your door, take the cash, and hasten to liberate the pledges from the magazines of the _diligence_, and proceed from their prison to the sumptuous quarters you have prepared for us.

We made an interesting tour into the mountains on leaving Barcelona, first to Monserrat, where we slept in the convent, and spent the next day in wandering about the rocks and hermitages,--a most wonderful rock, and scenery well worth of itself the journey to Monserrat from Granada. Thence we proceeded to Manresa, and on to Cardona to the celebrated Salt Mountain, which stands out of the ground like a huge lump of _confiture_, peach, apricot, and lemon, all candied over with little pearly globules of salt--a true Spanish mine, as they have absolutely nothing to do but knock off lumps, put them into a bag, pound them and eat them--no salt-pans, refining, corporations, or any other tedious processes. Thence we rode over a wild mountain, sometimes up the bed of dry rivers, sometimes through torrents, generally over rock, and never over road, to Igualada, and so on in the _diligence_ to Zaragoça, a gloomy, old, dirty, brick-built town, but truly Spanish; many things very well worth seeing--the Virgen del Pilar and the positions during the siege, the great lions. As to the siege, they seem neither to know nor care much about it, though, really, here the Spaniards might be proud of their truly Moorish exploits of _fighting well behind a wall_. I met two well-dressed men on the walk to Sᵗᵃ Engracia, and made Pasqual ask them (to prevent the possibility of being misunderstood) where Sᵗᵃ Engracia was, and, though it was close by, and the famous Quartel of the French, they shrugged their shoulders with the true Spanish shrug, and muttered out the usual true meaning of said shrug--_No sé!_ Fine, honest, downright simplicity of ignorance! _Viva la España, viva la Stˢᵃ Vⁿ del Pilar y S.E. mille años!_ But do not forget _los 600 reales_; for, if my wife is knocked down for a dollar at the _diligence_ sale of unredeemed pledges, it will be entirely the fault of the want of these 600 _reales_. So farewell.

Ever most sincerely,

RICHARD FORD.

A letter dated Saturday, November 19th, 1831, announces the return of Ford and his wife to the Alhambra.

We arrived safely at the Alhambra this afternoon, after rather an uncomfortable ride from Andujar. As you predicted it would rain, it did, and we got into Jaen wet one evening to set out the next morning in a Scotch mist, which lasted all the way to Campillo, where we put up in the worst posada in Spain, which pray commend to Col. Oxholm, who has a list of them. At Jaen we saw Don Carlos [Downie], whose heart, body, and soul are at your service. I called on the _Intendente_ to enquire after his precious health, and praise his cigars, both of which he felt, as he ought, highly flattered, and Jaen is at your _disposicion_, whenever you choose to have it.

Don Carlos very fat, talking bad English and worse Spanish, delighted with your visit and the dinner he gave you, which was, like his _Tertulia_, a contribution from all the houses in Jaen, as he sent round to everybody to say the great man was to dine with him, and begging them to send him their best wine and the best dish of their own dinner to his. I did not see “God’s Face,” which is only shewn to representatives of Kings and Bishops.[24]

We rode a pretty ride from Campillo this morning through Benalua, which you may inform the Duchess of San Lorenzo is in a high state of preservation; a sort of town on the side of a hill, which looks as if giants had been pelting each other with pigsties.

At Valdepeñas we fell in with three ’pon-honourish, well-fleshed English, journeying on to the Corte, a trio, which will relieve you when you have had enough of _duets_, the order of travelling in Spain since the unnatural alliance of those modern Pyladeses and Oresteses, St. Barbe and Custine, Eden[25] and Martin, Meara and Heaphy, all hunting in couples, to say nothing of a more proper marital couple, who have lately drawn so largely on your good-nature and hospitality.

I have not had time to throw myself at the feet of Dionysia, being fully occupied with the joys of paternity, having a small boarding-school now romping about, to the utter discomfiture of any intelligible writing or spelling.

Pray let us hear of that horrid cholera, whether the last news in Galignani is confirmed. The smallest donations in that way thankfully received.

Excuse this scrawl, which is just to notify to you that we have escaped José Maria and Botiga, and are always your secure servants. What a sheet of paper to write, as Don Carlos says, “to such a great man as we never had in Jaen.” You will become a Carlista.