containing four or five beds each. The whole place was miserable and naked, but not dirty; the characteristic and proverbial filth did not yet make its appearance. In fact, the dining-room contained an incredible example of sumptuousness in the way of furniture, – namely, a set of engravings representing the Adventures of Telemachus, not the charming vignettes with which Célestin Nanteuil and his friend Baron, have illustrated the history of the wearisome son of Ulysses, but those horrible coloured daubs with which the Rue Saint Jacques inundates the whole world. We set off again at two in the morning, and, as soon as the first streaks of day enabled me to distinguish the different objects, I beheld a sight that I shall never forget as long as I live. We had just changed horses at a village called, I think, Santa Maria de las Nieves, and were toiling up the first ridges of the chain of mountains we had to traverse. I almost imagined I was passing through some city built by the Cyclops. Immense blocks of sandstone, that assumed all sorts of architectural shapes, rose up on all sides, their outlines standing out upon the background of the sky like so many fantastic Towers of Babel. In one place, a flat stone that had fallen across two other rocks bore a most astonishing resemblance to the peulven or dolmen of the Druids; further on, a series of lofty fragments, shaped like the shafts of columns, represented porticoes and propylæa; in another place, you saw nothing but a chaos – an ocean of sandstone suddenly frozen when in a state of the utmost fury. The bluish-grey of these rocks augmented still more the singularity of the view, while, at every moment, from out the interstices of the stone there gushed forth, in the shape of drizzling vapour, or trickled down like tears of crystal, numerous mountain springs. But what particularly enchanted me was the snow which had melted and run into the hollows, forming little lakes, bordered with emerald-coloured grass, or framed in a circle of silver, composed of snow which had resisted the action of the sun. Pillars raised at certain distances, and serving to direct the traveller when the snow throws its perfidious mantle over the right road and the precipices, gave the scene a sort of monumental appearance. The torrents foam and roar in every direction; the road passes over them by means of the bridges of uncemented stone so frequent in Spain, and which you meet at every step you take.
The mountains continued to tower higher and higher, and when we had ascended one, another, which we had not before seen, rose up before us. The mules were no longer equal to their task, and we were under the necessity of procuring a team of oxen, which gave us an opportunity of alighting, and performing the rest of the ascent on foot. I was actually intoxicated with the pure bracing air; I felt so light, so joyous, so full of enthusiasm, that I cried out and capered about like a young goat. I experienced a desire to throw myself down all the charming precipices, that looked so azure, so vapoury, and so velvet-like. I wished to be carried away by the cascades, to dip my feet in all the springs, to pluck a leaf from every fir, to roll myself in the glittering snow, to be mixed up with all the objects around, and melt like an atom in the immensity before me.
The lofty mountain crests glistened and sparkled in the sun, like the skirt of a dancing-girl's robe under its shower of silver spangles; others, again, had their peaks surrounded by clouds, and merged imperceptibly into the sky, for nothing resembles a mountain so much as a cloud. The whole view was composed of one succession of precipices and undulations. It is beyond the power of art, whether of the pen or the pencil, to convey an adequate idea of their different colours and forms. Mountains realize all that the imagination can picture of them, and this is no small praise. The only difference between the reality and the idea we form of it, arises from the fact of our fancying mountains look larger than they do. We are only aware of their enormous size by comparison. On gazing attentively, you perceive that what, at a distance, you took for a blade of grass, is a fir-tree sixty feet high.
At the turn of a bridge, admirably adapted for an ambuscade of brigands, we beheld a small column surmounted by a cross. It was erected to the memory of a poor devil who had ended his days in this narrow pass, in consequence of his having fallen a victim to manoairada (violent death). From time to time we met travelling maragatos, in their costume of the sixteenth century, which consists of a tight-fitting leathern doublet, fastened with a buckle, wide breeches, and a broad-brimmed hat. We also met several Valencianos, with their white linen drawers, like the robes of the Klephts, their handkerchief twisted about their head, their white gaiters bordered with blue, and without feet, after the fashion of the antique Knemis, and their long piece of cloth (capa de muestra), crossed diagonally by bright-coloured stripes, and draped over their shoulders in a very elegant manner. All that we could perceive of their flesh was as tawny as Florentine bronze. Then, again, we saw strings of mules, caparisoned in the most charming fashion, with bells and party-coloured fringe and housings, while their arrieros were armed with carbines. We were enchanted, for we had found an abundant supply of the picturesque of which we were in search.
The higher we ascended, the thicker and broader became the strips of snow; but a single sunbeam made the mountains stream with water, like a woman laughing in the midst of her tears; on every side little brooks, scattered about like the dishevelled tresses of some Naïad, and clearer than crystal, forced their way downwards. By dint of climbing, we reached the summit of the range, and seated ourselves on the plinth of a large granite lion, which is situated on the further side of the mountain, and marks the boundary of Old Castile; beyond this lion the province of New Castile commences.
We took a fancy to cull a delicious red flower, whose botanical name I do not know, and which was growing in the fissures of the mountain. This necessitated our clambering up on a rock, which is said to be the place where Philip II. used to sit to see how the works of the Escurial were advancing. Either the tradition is apocryphal, or Philip II. must have possessed most astoundingly good eyes.
The coach, which had been toiling up the precipitous steeps, at last rejoined us once more. The oxen were unyoked, and we descended the declivity in a gallop. We stopped to dine at Guadarrama, a little village crouched at the foot of the mountain. The only ornament of which it can boast is a granite fountain, erected by Philip II. At this place, by a strange reversion of the natural order of dinners, goats' milk soup was served up as dessert.
Madrid, like Rome, is surrounded by a desert; it is impossible to convey an idea of its aridity and desolation. There is not a tree, a drop of water, a green plant, or the least appearance of humidity; nothing but yellow sand and iron-grey rocks; and when you leave the mountain, you do not find even rocks, but large stones. From time to time you perceive a dusty venta, a cork-coloured spire, just showing its nose on the horizon, large melancholy-looking oxen dragging along one of the cars we have already described; a countryman on horseback, or on a mule, with a fierce expression of face, a carbine at his saddle-bow, and a sombrero slouched over his eyes, or long strings of whity-brown asses, carrying chopped straw, which is corded up with a network of small ropes, and that is all. The ass which walks first, the coronel, has always a small feather or rosette, indicating his superiority in the hierarchy of the long-eared tribe.
At the expiration of a few hours, which our impatience to reach our destination caused to appear still longer than they really were, we at last perceived Madrid with tolerable distinctness. A few minutes afterwards we entered the Spanish capital by the Puerta de Hierro, and drove along an avenue planted with dwarf pollards and bordered by small brick towers which serve to raise water. Talking of water, although the transition is not very well timed, I forgot to mention that we crossed the Manzanares by means of a bridge that was worthy of a river of a more serious description; we then passed by the Queen's Palace, one of those edifices which people are pleased to designate as tasty. The immense terraces on which it is raised give it rather a grand appearance.
After having undergone the visit of the custom-house officials, we proceeded to take up our quarters in the immediate vicinity of the Calle d'Alcala and of the Prado; the name of our street was the Calle del Caballero de Gracia, and our hotel was called La Fonda de la Amistad, where Madame Espartero, Duchess de la Vittoria, happened at that time to be staying. The first thing we did was to despatch Manuel, our temporary servant, a most ardent aficionado and tauromachist, to procure us tickets for the next bull-fight.
CHAPTER VI
MADRID
