Chapter I: The Emperor's Feast (5)

The time has come when every church we erect should be an honor to us for its architectural beauty, its substantial character, and adaptability to our needs, and when the generous alms of the faithful should no longer be thrown away upon unsightly, badly planned, and worse built edifices, of which so many exist in our country, to the great discomfort of both priest and people, and monuments (happily not lasting ones) of the want of knowledge and experience of those who constructed them.

It becomes us, therefore, to encourage our Catholic architects who understand the meaning and use of a church. We cannot look for Protestants to care much for the requirements of the ritual in their designs, or to appreciate the necessity of insisting upon what the church insists. Their chief aim is to please their patrons, and carry out whatever is proposed to them. Few of our Protestant architects know any more about the proper interior disposition of a Catholic church than they do of a Moslem mosque.

See, again, how much we suffer from the wretched altar furniture and sacerdotal vestments imported for our use, and which our clergy are obliged to take and make a display in their sanctuaries of things belonging in style to every age of the church. {440} How often have we not seen a priest clothed in Roman vestments celebrating mass at a Gothic altar furnished with Byzantine crucifix and candlesticks, and a miscellaneous job lot of tawdry French artificial flowers, while the sacred precinct of the sanctuary would be furnished with carpet and chairs that smack of the drawing-room or the kitchen?

These evils existed and do exist in other countries besides our own, and we see that the congresses of Belgium have done a great deal to correct them by calling Catholic architects together in council, and offering prizes for designs of perfect churches built and furnished according to the Ritual, the Ceremoniale Episcoporum, the Missal, and the decrees of the Congregation of Rites.

The music of our churches, what shall we say of it? Are our city churches to be turned into fashionable concert-rooms where hired Protestant, Jewish, and infidel artists are to sing their _morceaux de l'opera_ for our edification? Are our country churches never to witness a high mass celebrated in them, and the people in those localities never to be convened for the Vesper service or comforted with the Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament because there is no one to teach the children at least to sing a Tantum Ergo? Are our organists always to be irresponsible musicians, guided by no rubrics, ignorant of fast days and festivals, outraging every sense of propriety, and banishing all sentiment of piety and devotion by their ad libitum roulades and fantasias of the most degraded taste? If we must pay others to sing the praises of God for us, why not also engage others to do our praying likewise? Cannot we have, as other countries have, voluntary choirs? Why cannot all the people sing at proper times and seasons, and join in that part of worship which from its very nature is the best calculated to awaken the deepest emotions of the soul!

The question of the feasibility of voluntary choirs or of congregational singing is no longer wholly a doubtful one. We know of several churches in the country that have always had voluntary choirs, and we were present during the past Lent at the services of one of our city churches where the whole congregation joined with full voices in a popular Lenten service, and in the solemn recitation of the Way of the Cross, for which they were prepared at a single public rehearsal in the church.

The subject of church music, as we have already said, was one to which the Belgium congresses paid a great deal of attention. The March number of the Revue Generale of Brussels gives a most interesting report, by Canon Devroye, of the proceedings of the jury to whom were referred the adjudication of the prizes offered for an original popular mass, composed, as says the worthy canon, "according to the rules laid down by the church, and enforced by our general assembly;" and he observes in another place that they must "redouble their efforts to procure universal observation of the rules adopted by the congress, and which are also the rules of the church and of common sense." Let us hasten to imitate this example of zeal for the glory of God's house and for the decency and dignity of divine worship. If we have not many original composers, we have, at any rate, several good judges among our organists and directors of choirs. Their united opinion would have a powerful influence in bringing about, what we do not fear to say is greatly needed, a thorough reformation in our church music.

In works of charity we have done a great deal already--enough, it may be, to hide a multitude of sins; but charity is never content with what it has done, nor will the objects of its care ever be wanting. "The poor ye have always with you," said our Lord. They take his place in our midst, and by their helplessness and suffering soften our selfish hearts, and win from us those things in the inordinate love of which we are too apt to forget our true destiny. {441} Men may give themselves up with too great ardor to the pursuit of science and devotion to art, but charity has no dangerous limits which we may not overpass. What we do for the poor we do for God, and no one can do too much for him. Yet charity needs wisdom, demands thought, and profits by good counsel. So that we see men instinctively band themselves together in associations, that the ignorant, the suffering, the tempted, and the sinful may be more wisely aided, and more speedily comforted. The religious orders of charity have their own special rules and organization, and know how to do their work well. But there are many forms of suffering and of corporal and spiritual destitution which they cannot reach, or which their rule of life prevents them from attending to. Enterprises that can embrace these needy cases for charity in their scope must, therefore, be conducted more or less entirely by the laity. To be truly effective, these enterprises need rules and organization, as much as an order of Sisters of Charity or of Mercy; and organization demands cooperation, deliberation, and union. The glorious society of St. Vincent de Paul is one of these, and its works are manifest. Millions of God's beloved poor will rise up at the last day to praise these devoted children of the church and call them blessed. But they cannot do all that is to be done. There is great need, especially in our larger cities and towns, of patronages, protectorates, associations of young apprentices and workmen, and what are called in Europe "Catholic Circles," and with us "Young Men's Institutes," which enable our Catholic youth particularly to enjoy honest recreation and amusement in honest society, and at the same time improve their minds and refine their manners. Such institutes have been already founded among us by several zealous pastors with the most signal success. Our Sunday-schools also have been of late much improved by the establishment of Sunday-School Unions, which might be extended to every diocese in the country. To give a proper impetus to all these works of charity, to make their character and working known, and encourage their establishment throughout the country, would be one of the principal subjects to come up for consideration before a congress.

We have shown enough reasons, we think, why such an assembly should be convened. Many persons have the matter at heart; and we have perused with great pleasure some communications on the subject which show a thoughtful appreciation of its great importance. We trust that what we have written may help to encourage them and others to give expression to their sentiments, and thus prepare the public mind, so that the whole body of our clergy and intelligent laity may be ready to take an active part in it as soon as the proper authorities shall summon them to meet. A good proposal has been made, which merits consideration: that the meeting of a congress be made coincident with the assembling of the General Council of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, which now does so much of the work of a congress in the matter of charity, and which brings together so many men of the right stamp from all portions of our vast country. This would enable the congress to profit by the fruits of their experience and influence in a department where none are more competent than they to give advice and aid.

Our holy religion is making such rapid advances that there is an urgent call upon every Catholic to bestir himself, and do all that lies in his power to aid and support the clergy in their herculean efforts to feed and comfort the flock of Christ. Converts are pouring in from all quarters, out of all classes of society. Many of them have been earnest laborers in their way in the cause of religion and of charity. Let them not find us idle, neither must we allow them to be idle. Their influence with their Protestant brethren is great, and we should give them the means of using it and bringing it to good account.

{442}

The charitable power in the church, and the devotion of the clergy to the spiritual good of the people, has in an especial manner been brought before the minds of the American public by the events of the late war. Prejudice is dying out on all sides, and we begin to find it easier to obtain a hearing from those who have hitherto considered it a duty to turn a deaf ear to our words of truth. Our hands are full of work, and if we are alive to our opportunity, we shall accomplish glorious things for God, and not fail of placing our divine faith, always so fruitful in good works, first in rank and the highest in esteem before all those fragmentary, defective, and inefficient forms of Christianity that have up to the present held sway over the minds and hearts of so large a portion of the American people, and kept them from the knowledge of that church which, as the church of God, is Catholic, perfect, and, therefore, alone able to do the work which humanity claims at the hands of religion.

------

Original.

Regret.

They say she says, "I have no heart."
Could she have seen my tears,
She'd know I keenly felt the smart
That broke the loving tie of years.

They say she says, "I have no heart."
'Twere cruel thus to say,
When I, to act the firmer part,
Keep from her sight away.

They say she says, "I have no heart,"
When sight, with tears grows dim;
To think that pride should keep apart
Such friends as we have been.

They say she says, "I have no heart,"
For her, to whom my soul had grown
So closely--that, even when apart,
I felt no joy--because alone.

Again she says, "I have no heart,"
When oft she staid the swelling tear;
As those who loved I saw depart,
I felt they left a sister here.

How can she say, "I have no heart,"
When night and morn I ask in prayer
That we may not be called apart,
Till both breathe forth forgiveness here?

------

{443}

Impressions Of Spain.

By Lady Herbert.

Gibraltar And Cadiz.

The journey from Granada was, if possible, more wearying than before, for the constant heavy rains had reduced the roads to a perfect Slough of Despond, in which the wretched mules perpetually sank and fell, and were flogged up again in a way which, to a nature fond of animals, is the most insupportable of physical miseries. Is there a greater suffering than that of witnessing cruelty and wrong which you are powerless to redress? It was not till nearly eleven o'clock the following day that our travellers found themselves once more in their old quarters on the Alameda of Malaga. By the kindness of the superior of the hospital, the usual nine o'clock mass had been postponed till the arrival of the diligence: and very joyfully did one of the party afterwards take her old place at the refectory of the community, whose loving welcome made her forget that she was still in a strange land. The following three or four days were spent almost entirely in making preparations for their journey to Gibraltar, _via_ Ronda, that eagle's nest, perched on two separate rocks, divided by a rapid torrent, but united by a picturesque bridge, which crowns the range of mountains forming the limits of the kingdom of Granada. The accounts of the mountain-path were not encouraging; but to those who had ridden for four months through the Holy Land, no track, however rugged and precipitous, offered any terrors. But when the time came, to their intense disappointment, the road was found to be impassable on the Gibraltar side, owing to the tremendous torrents, which the heavy rains had swollen to a most unusual extent. Two officers had attempted to swim their horses over, but in so doing one of them was drowned; so that there seemed no alternative but to give up their pleasant riding expedition, and, with it, the sight of that gem of the whole country which had been one of their main objects in returning to Malaga. Comforting themselves, however, by the hope of going there later from Seville, our travellers took berths in the steamer Cadiz, bound for Gibraltar; and after a beautiful parting benediction at the little convent of the Nuns of the Assumption, they took leave of their many kind friends, and, at six o'clock, (accompanied by Madame de Q---- and her brother to the water's edge,) stepped on board the boat which was to convey them to their steamer. Their captain, however, proved faithless as to time; and it was not till morning that the cargo was all on board and the vessel under weigh for their destination. After a tedious and rough passage of nineteen hours, they rounded at last the Europa Point, and found themselves a few minutes later landing on the Water Port quay of the famous rock. Of all places in Spain, Gibraltar is the least interesting, except from the British and national point of view. Its houses, its people, its streets, its language, all are of a detestably mongrel character.

The weather, too, during our travellers' stay, was essentially British, incessant pouring rain and fog alternating with gales so tremendous that twenty vessels went ashore in one day. Nothing was to be seen from the windows of the Club-House Hotel but mist and spray, or heard but the boom of the distress gun from the wrecking ships, answered by the more cheering cannon of the port. {444} But there is a bright side to every picture: and one of the bright sides of Gibraltar is to be found in its kind and hospitable governor and his wife, who, nobly laying aside all indulgence in the life-long sorrow which family events have caused, devote themselves morning, noon, and night to the welfare and enjoyment of every one around them. Their hospitality is natural to their duties and position; but the kind consideration which ever anticipates the wishes of their guests, whether residents or, as our travellers were, birds of passage, here to-day and gone to-morrow, springs from a rarer and a purer source.

Another object of interest to some of our party was the charitable institutions of the place. The white "cornettes" of the Sisters of Charity are not seen as yet; but the sisters of the "Bon Secours" have supplied their place in nursing the sick and tending all the serious cases of every class in the garrison. Their value only became fully known at the late fearful outbreak of cholera, to which two of them fell victims: but they seemed rather encouraged than deterred by this fact. They live in a house half-way up the hill on the way to Europa Point, which contains a certain number of old and incurable people and a few orphan children. They visit also the sick poor in their homes, and in the Civil Hospital, which is divided, drolly enough, not into surgical and medical wards, but according to the _religion_ of the patients! one half being Catholic, the other Protestant, and small wards being reserved likewise for Jews and Moors. It is admirably managed, the patients are supplied with every necessary and well cared for by the kind-hearted superintendent, Dr. G----. The "Dames de Lorette" have a convent towards the Europa Point, where they board and educate between twenty and thirty young ladies. They have also a large day-school in the town for both rich and poor, the latter being below and the former above. The children seem well taught, and the poorer ones were remarkable for great neatness and cleanliness. The excellent and charming Catholic bishop, Dr. Scandella, vicar apostolic of Gibraltar, has built a college for boys on the ground adjoining his palace, above the convent, from whence the view is glorious; the gardens are very extensive. This college, which was immensely needed in Gibraltar, is rapidly filling with students, and is about to be affiliated to the London University. In the garden above, a chapel is being built to receive the Virgin of "Europa," whose image, broken and despoiled by the English in 1704, was carried over to Algeciras, and there concealed in the hermitage; but has now been given back by Don Eugenio Romero to the bishop, to be placed in this new and beautiful little sanctuary overlooking the Straits, where it will soon be once more exposed to the veneration of the faithful. The bishop has lately built another little church below the convent, dedicated to St. Joseph, but which, from some defect in the materials, has been a very expensive undertaking.

It was very pleasant to see the simple, hearty, manly devotion of the large body of Catholic soldiers in the garrison, among whom his influence has had the happiest effect in checking every kind of dissatisfaction and drunkenness. His personal influence has doubtless been greatly enhanced by his conduct during the cholera, when he devoted himself, with his clergy, to the sick and dying, taking regular turns with them in the administration of the Last Sacraments, and only claiming as his privilege that of being the one always called up in the night, so that the others might get some rest. He has two little rooms adjoining the church, where he remains during the day, and receives any one who needs his fatherly care.

The Protestant bishop of Gibraltar, a very kind and benevolent man, resides at Malta, and has a cathedral near the governor's house, lately beautified by convict labor, and said to be well attended. It is the only Protestant church in Spain.

{445}

Of the sights of Gibraltar it is needless to speak. Our travellers, in spite of the weather, which rarely condescended to smile upon them, visited almost everything: the North Fort, Spanish Lines, and Catalan Bay, one day; Europa Point, with the cool summer residence of the governor, (sadly in need of government repair,) and St. Michael's Cave, on the next; and last, not least, the galleries and heights. From the signal tower the view is unrivalled; and the aloes, prickly pear, and geranium, springing out of every cleft in the rock, up which the road is beautifully and skilfully engineered, add to the enjoyment of the ride. The gentlemen of the party hunted in the cork woods when the weather would allow of it; and the only "lion" unseen by them were the monkeys, who resolutely kept in their caves or on the African side of the water during their stay at Gibraltar. The garden of the governor's palace is very enjoyable, and contains one of those wonderful dragon-trees of which the bark is said to bleed when an incision is made. The white arums grow like a weed in this country, and form most beautiful bouquets when mixed with scarlet geranium and edged by their large, bright, shining green leaves.

The time of our travellers was, however, limited, especially as they wished to spend the Holy Week in Seville. So, after a ten days' stay, reluctantly giving up the kind offer of the port admiral to take them across to Africa, and contenting themselves with buying a few Tetuan pots from the Moors at Gibraltar, they took their passages on board the "London" steamer for Cadiz.

By permission of the governor, they were allowed to pass through the gates after gun-fire, and got to the mole; but there, from some mistake, no boat could be found to take them off to their vessel, and they had the pleasure of seeing it steam away out of the harbor without them, although their passages had been paid for, and, as they thought, secured. In despair, shut out of the town, where a state of siege, for fear of a surprise, is always rigorously maintained by the English garrison, they at last bribed a little boat to take them to a Spanish vessel, the "Allegri," likewise bound for Cadiz, and which was advertised to start an hour later. In getting on board of her, however, they found she was a wretched tub, heavily laden with paraffine, among other combustibles, and with no accommodation whatever for passengers. There was, however, no alternative but going in her or remaining all night tossing about the harbor in their cockle-shell of a boat; so they made up their minds to the least of the two evils, and a few minutes later saw them steaming rapidly out of the harbor toward Cadiz. The younger portion of the party found a cabin in which they could lie down: the elder lay on the cordage of the deck, and prayed for a cessation of the recent fearful storms, the captain having quietly informed them that in the event of its coming on to blow again he must throw all their luggage overboard as well as a good deal of his cargo, as he was already too heavily laden to be safe. However, the night was calm, though very cold, and the following morning saw them safely rounding the forts of Cadiz, and staring at its long, low shores. But then a new alarm seized them. The quarantine officers came on board with a horrible yellow flag, and talked big about the cholera having reappeared at Alexandria, and the consequent impossibility of their being able to produce a clean bill of health. The prospect of spending a week in that miserable vessel, or in the still more dismal lazaretto on the shore, was anything but agreeable to our travellers. However, on the assurance of the captain that the only vessel arrived from Egypt before they left Gibraltar had been instantly put into quarantine by the governor, they were at last allowed to land in peace, and found very comfortable rooms at Blanco's hotel, on the promenade, their windows and balconies looking on the sea. {446} In the absence of the bishop, who was gone to Tetuan, Canon L---- kindly offered his services to show them the curiosities of the town, and took them first to the Capuchin convent, now converted into a madhouse, in the church adjoining which are two very fine Murillos: one, "St. Francis receiving the Stigmata," which, for spirituality of expression, is really unrivalled; the other, "The Marriage of St. Catherine," which was his _last_ work, and is unfinished. The great painter fell from the scaffolding in 1682, and died very soon after, at Seville, in consequence of the internal injuries he had received. From this convent they proceeded to the cathedral, which is ugly enough, but where the organ and singing were admirable. The stalls in the choir, which are beautifully carved, were stolen from the Cartucha at Seville. There is a spacious crypt under the high altar, with a curious flat roof, unsupported by any arches or columns, but at present it is bare and empty. Their guide then took them to see the workhouse, or "Albergo dei Poveri," an enormous building, which is even more admirably managed than the one at Madrid. It contains upwards of a thousand inmates. The boys are all taught different trades, and the girls every kind of industrial and needle work. The dormitories and washing arrangements are excellent; and all the walls being lined, up to a certain height, with the invariable blue and white "azulejos," or glazed tiles, gives a clean, bright appearance to the whole. The dress of the children was also striking to English eyes, accustomed to the hideous workhouse livery at home. On Sundays they have a pretty and varied costume for both boys and girls, and their little tastes are considered in every way. They have a large and handsome church, and also a chapel for the children's daily prayers, which they themselves keep nice and pretty, and ornament with flowers from their gardens. The whole thing is like a "_home_" for these poor little orphans, and in painful contrast to the views which Protestant England takes of charity in her workhouses, where poverty seems invariably treated as a crime. The children are in a separate wing of the building--the girls above, the boys below. On the other side are the sick wards, and those for the old and incurable, where the same minute care for their comfort and pleasure is observed in every arrangement. Nor is there that horrible prison atmosphere, and that locking of doors as one passes through each ward, which jars so painfully on one's heart in going through an English workhouse. There are very few able bodied paupers; and those are employed in the work of the house and garden. There is a spacious "patio," or court, with an open colonnade of marble columns, running round the quadrangle, the centre of which is filled with orange-trees and flowers. This beautiful palace was founded and endowed by the private benevolence of one man, who dedicated it to St. Helena, in memory of his mother, and placed in it the Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul, who have the entire care of the whole establishment. There are fifteen sisters, all Spaniards, but affiliated to the French ones, and with the portrait of N. T. H. Père Etienne in the place of honor in their "parloir" and refectory. The superior is a most remarkable woman, little and "contrefaite," but with a soul in her eyes which it is impossible to forget. The institution is now in the hands of the government, who have wisely not attempted to make any alterations in the administration. There are upward of fifty of these Sisters of Charity in Cadiz, they having the sole charge of the hospitals, schools, workhouses, etc.; and the admirable cleanliness, order, and comfort in each which is the result, must commend them to the intelligent approval of every visitor, even should he be unmoved by the evidence of that unpaid charity which, with its soft finger-touch, stamps all their works with the very essence of divine love.

{447}

The next day being Palm Sunday, our travellers went to service in the cathedral. It was very fine, but extremely fatiguing. There are no chairs or seats in Spanish churches. Every one kneels on the floor the whole time, not even rising for the Gospel or Creed. On one of the party attempting to stand up at the long Gospel of the Passion, she was somewhat indignantly pulled down again by her neighbors. During the sermon, the Spanish women have a peculiar way of sitting on their heels--a process which they learn from childhood, but which to strangers is an almost intolerable penance. Here, as everywhere in Spain, the hideous fashion of bonnets or hats was unknown, and the universal black mantilla, with its graceful folds and modest covering of the face, and the absence of all colors to distract attention in the house of God, made our English ladies sigh more eagerly than ever for a similar reverent and decent fashion to be adopted at home. On returning for the vesper service in the afternoon, a beautiful, and, to them, novel, custom was observed. At the singing of the "Vexilla Regis," the canons, in long black robes, knelt prostrate in a semicircle before the high altar, and were covered by a black flag with a red cross. This they saw repeated daily during the Passion Week services at Seville. In the evening there was a magnificent benediction and processional service round the cloisters of the church called "Delle Scalze." It was impossible to imagine anything more picturesque than the multitude kneeling in the open "patio," or court, shaded by orange-trees, and full of beautiful flowers, while round the arches swept the gorgeous procession carrying the Host, the choir and people singing alternate verses of the "Lauda Sion," the curling smoke of the incense reflecting prismatic colors in the bright sunshine, and the whole procession finally disappearing in the sombre, dark old church, of which the centre doors had been thrown wide open to receive it. One longed only for Roberts's paint-brush to depict the scene. Returning to their hotel, our party found the Alameda gay with holiday folk, and full of the ladies whose beauty and charm have been the pride of Cadiz for so many generations. Do not let our readers think it invidious if we venture on the opinion that their beautiful and becoming dress has a great deal to do with this, just as, in the East, every turbaned Turk or burnoused Arab would make a perfect picture. Dress your Oriental in one of Poole's best-fitting coats and trousers, and give him a chimney-pot hat, and where would be his beauty? In the same way, if--which good taste forefend--the Spanish ladies come to imagine that a bonnet stuck on the back of the head, and every color in the rainbow, is prettier than the flowing black robe and softly folded lace mantilla, shading modestly their bright dark eyes and hair, they will find, to their cost, that their charm has vanished for ever.

Nothing more remained to be seen or done in Cadiz but to purchase some of the beautiful mats which are its great industry, and which are made of a flat reed or "junco," growing in the neighborhood; and these the kind and, good-natured English consul undertook to forward to them, when ready, to England.

Seville.

Armed with sundry letters of introduction sent them from Madrid, our travellers started by early train for Seville, the amiable Canon L---- having given them a five o'clock mass before starting, in his interesting old circular church dedicated to S. Filippo Neri, he being one of the Oratorians. They passed by Xeres, famous for its sherry cellars, called "bodegas," supplying more wine to England than to all the rest of the world put together, and for its Carthusian convent, once remarkable for its Zurbaran pictures, the greater portion of which have now followed the sherry to the British Isles; then by Alcalà, noted for its delicious bread, with which it supplies the whole of Seville; for its Moorish castle and beautiful river Aira, the waters of which, after flowing round the walls of the little town, are carried by an aqueduct to Seville; and so on and on, through orange and olive groves, and wheat plains, and vineyards, till the train brought them by mid-day to the wonderful and beautiful city which had been the main object of their Spanish tour.

{448}

The saying is strictly true:

Quien no ha visto Sevilla,
No ha visto maravilla.

Scarcely had they set foot in their comfortable hotel, the "Fonda de Londres," when an obliging aide-de-camp of the Spanish general came to tell them that, if they wanted to see the Alcazar, they must go with him at once, as the infanta, who had married the sister of the king's consort, was expected with his wife to occupy the palace that evening, when it would naturally be closed to visitors. Dusty, dirty, and hot as they were, therefore, they at once sallied forth with their kind cicerone and the English consul for this fairy palace of the Moors. Entering by the Plaza del Triunfo, under an arched gateway, where hangs, day and night, a lamp throwing its soft light on the beautiful little picture of the Virgin and Child, they came into a long court, in the midst of which are orange-trees and fountains, and this again led them by a side door into the inner court or "patio" of the palace.

Like the Alhambra, it is an exquisite succession of delicate columns, with beautifully carved capitals, walls, and balconies, which look as if worked in Mechlin lace; charmingly cool "patios," with marble floors and fountains; doors whose geometrical patterns defy the patience of the painter; horse-shoe arches, with edges fringed like guipure; fretted ceilings, the arabesques of which are painted in the most harmonious colors, and tipped with gold; lattices every one of which seems to tell of a romance of beauty and of love: such are these moresque creations, unrivalled in modern art, and before which our most beautiful nineteenth century palaces sink into coarse and commonplace buildings. They are the realization of the descriptions in the "Arabian Nights," and the exquisite delicacy of the work is not its sole charm. The _proportions_ of every room, of every staircase, of every door and window, are perfect: nothing offends the eye by being too short or too wide. In point of sound, also, they, as well as the Romans, knew the secret which our modern builders have lost; and in harmony of color, no "azulejos" of the present day can approach the beauty and brilliancy of the Moorish tints. Nor are historical romances wanting to enhance the interest of this wonderful place. In the bed-chamber of the king, Pedro the Cruel, are painted three dead heads, and thereon hangs a tale of savage justice. The king overheard three of his judges combining to give a false judgment in a certain case about which they had been bribed, and then quarrel about their respective shares of their ill gotten spoils. He suddenly appeared before them, and causing them to be instantly beheaded, placed their heads in the niches where now the paintings perpetuate the remembrance of the punishment. Less excusable was another tragedy enacted within these walls, in the assassination of the brother of king, who had been invited as a guest and came unsuspicious of treachery. A deep red stain of blood in the marble floor still marks the spot of the murder. Well may Spain's most popular modern poet, the Duque de Rivas, in his beautiful poem, exclaim:

"Ann en las losas se mira
Una tenaz mancha oscura; ...
Ni las edades la limpian! ...
Sangre! sangre! Oh cielos! cuantos,
Sin saber que lo es, la pisan!" [Footnote 141]

[Footnote 141:
"One still sees on the pavement a dark
spot--the lapse of ages has not effaced it!
Blood! blood! O Heaven! how many tread
it under foot without knowing it!"]

{449}

The gardens adjoining the palace are quaintly beautiful, the borders edged with myrtle and box, cut low and thick, with terraces and fountains, and kiosks, and, "surprises" of "jets d'eau," and arched walls festooned with beautiful hanging creepers, and a "luxe" of oriental vegetation. On one side are the white marble baths, cool and sombre, where the beautiful Maria de Padilla forgot the heat and glare of the Seville sun. It was the custom of the courtiers in her day to _drink_ the water in which the ladies had bathed. Pedro the Cruel reproached one of his knights for not complying with this custom. "Sire," he replied, "I should fear lest, having tasted the sauce, I should covet the bird!"

The Alcazar formerly extended far beyond its present limits; but the ruined towers by the water-side are all that now remain to mark the course of the old walls.

Our travellers could not resist one walk through the matchless cathedral on their way home; but reserved their real visit to that and to the Giralda till the following day. The kind Regente de la Audiencia and his wife, to whom they had brought letters of introduction, came to them in the evening, and arranged various expeditions for the ensuing week.

Early the next morning the Countess L---- de R---- came to fetch one of the party to the church of S. Felipe Neri, which, like all the churches of the Oratorians, is beautifully decorated, and most devout and reverent in its services. It is no easy matter to go on wheels in the streets of Seville. There are but two or three streets in which a carriage can go at all, or attempt to turn; and so to arrive at any given place, it is generally necessary to make the circuit of half the town. In addition to this, the so-called pavement, angular, pointed, and broken, shakes every bone in one's body. To reach their destination on this particular morning, our friends had to traverse the market place, and make an immense _détour_ through various squares, passing meanwhile by several very interesting churches; but it was all so much gain to the stranger.

After mass, one of the fathers, who spoke English, kindly showed them the treasures of his church, and amongst other things a beautiful silver-chased chapel behind the high altar, containing some exquisite bénitières, crucifixes, and relics. The wooden crucifixes of Spain, mostly carved by great men, such as Alonso Caño or Montanés, are quite wonderful in beauty and force of expression; but they are very difficult to obtain. They have a pretty custom in this church of offering two turtle doves in a pure white basket when a child is devoted to the Blessed Virgin, which are left on the altar, as in the old days of the Purification, and the white basket is afterward laid up in the chapel. After breakfast the whole party arrived at the cathedral. How describe this wonderful building! To say it is such and such a height, and such and such a width, that it has so many columns, and so many chapels, and so many doors, and so many windows. ... Why, Murray has done that far better than any one else! But to understand the cathedral at Seville, you must know it; you must feel it; you must live in it; you must see it at the moment of the setting sun, when the light streams in golden showers through those wonderful painted glass windows, (those _chefs d'oeuvre_ of Arnold of Flanders,) jewelling the curling smoke of the incense still hanging round the choir; or else go there in the dim twilight, when the aisles seem to lengthen out into infinite space, and the only bright spot is from the ever-burning silver lamps which hang before the tabernacle.

One of the party, certainly not given to admiration of either churches or Catholicity, exclaimed on leaving it: "It is a place where I could not help saying my prayers!" The good-natured Canon P---- showed them all the treasures and pictures. They are too numerous to describe in detail; but some leave an indelible impression. Among these is Murillo's wonderful St. Antony, in the baptistery; Alonso Caño's delicious little Virgin and Child, (called Nuestra Señora de Belem;) Morales's Dead Christ; {450} a very curious old Byzantine picture of the Virgin; and in the sacristy, the exquisite portraits by Murillo of St. Leander, archbishop of Seville, the great reformer of the Spanish liturgy, whose bones rest in a silver coffin in the Capilla Real, and of St. Isadore, his brother, who succeeded him in the see, called the "Excellent Doctor," and whose body rests at Leon. Here also is a wonderful "Descent from the Cross," by Campana, before which Murillo used to sit, and say "he waited till he was taken down;" and here, by his own particular wish, the great painter is buried. There is, besides, a fine portrait of St. Teresa; and round the handsome chapter-room are a whole series of beautiful oval portraits by Murillo, and also one of his best "Conceptions." Among the treasures is the cross made from the gold which Christopher Columbus brought home from America, and presented to the king; the keys of the town given up to Ferdinand by the Moorish king at the conquest of Seville; two beautiful ostensorios of the fifteenth century, covered with precious stones and magnificent pearls; beautiful Cinquecento reliquaries presented by different popes; finely illuminated missals in admirable preservation; an exquisitely carved ivory crucifix; wonderful vestments, heavy with embroidery and seed-pearls; the crown of King Ferdinand; and last, not least, a magnificent tabernacle altar-front, angels and candle-sticks, all in solid silver, beautiful in workmanship and design, used for Corpus Christi, and other solemn feasts of the Blessed Sacrament. One asks one's self very often: "How came all these treasures to escape the rapacity of the French spoilers?"

The Royal Chapel contains the body of St. Ferdinand, the pious conqueror of Seville, which town, as well as Cordova, he rescued from the hands of the Moors, after it had been in their possession five hundred and twenty-four years. This pious king, son to Alphonse, king of Leon, bore witness by his conduct to the truth of his words on going into battle: "Thou, O Lord! who searchest the hearts of men, knowest that I desire but thy glory, and not mine." To his saint-like mother, Berangera, he owed all the good and holy impressions of his life. He helped to build the cathedral of Toledo, of which he laid the first stone, and, in the midst of the splendors of the court, led a most ascetic and penitential life. Seville surrendered to him in 1249, after a siege of sixteen months, on which occasion the Moorish general exclaimed that "only a saint who, by his justice and piety, had won heaven over to his interest, could have taken so strong a city with so small an army." By the archbishop's permission, the body of the saint was exposed for our travellers. It is in a magnificent silver shrine; and the features still retain a remarkable resemblance to his portraits. His banner, crown, and sword were likewise shown to them, and the little ivory Virgin which he always fastened to the front of his saddle when going to battle. The cedar coffin still remains in which his body rested previous to its removal to this more gorgeous shrine. On the three days in the year when his body is exposed, the troops all attend the mass, and lower their arms and colors to the great Christian conqueror. A little staircase at the back of the tomb brings you down into a tiny crypt, where, arranged on shelves, are the coffins of the beautiful Maria Padilla, of Pedro the Cruel, and of their two sons: latterly, those of the children of the Duc and Duchesse de Montpensier have been added. Over the altar of the chapel above hangs a very curious wooden statue of the Virgin, given to St. Ferdinand by the good king Louis of France. King Ferdinand adorned her with a crown of emeralds and a stomacher of diamonds, belonging to his mother, on condition that they should never be removed from the image.

{451}

The organs are among the wonders of this cathedral, with their thousands of pipes, placed horizontally, in a fan-like shape. The "retablo" at the back of the high altar is a marvel of wood-carving; and the hundreds of lamps which burn before the different shrines are all of pure and massive silver. One is tempted to ask: "Was it by men and women like ourselves that cathedrals such as this were planned and built and furnished?" The chapter who undertook it are said to have deprived themselves even of the necessaries of life to erect a basilica worthy of the name; and in this spirit of voluntary poverty and self-abnegation was it begun and completed. Never was there a moment when money was so plentiful in England as now, yet where will a cathedral be found built since the fifteenth century?

At the west end lies Fernando, son of the great Christopher Columbus, who himself died at Valladolid, and is said to rest in the Havana. The motto on the tomb is simple but touching:

A Castilla y á Leon,
mundo nuevo dió Colon.

Over this stone, during holy week, is placed the "monumento," an enormous tabernacle, more than 100 feet high, which is erected to contain the sacred host on Holy Thursday: when lighted up, with the magnificent silver custodia, massive silver candlesticks, and a profusion of flowers and candles, it forms a "sepulchre" unequalled in the world for beauty and splendor.

Passing at last under the Moorish arch toward the north-east end of the cathedral, our travellers found themselves in a beautiful cloistered "patio," full of orange-trees in full blossom, with a magnificent fountain in the centre. In one corner is the old stone pulpit from which St. Vincent Ferrer, St. John of Avila, and other saints preached to the people: an inscription records the fact. Over the beautiful door which leads into the cathedral hang various curious emblems: a horn, a crocodile, a rod, and a bit, said to represent plenty, prudence, justice, and temperance. To the left is the staircase leading to the Columbine library, given by Fernando, and containing some very interesting MSS. of Christopher Columbus. One book is full of quotations, in his own handwriting, from the Psalms and the Prophets, proving the existence of the New World; another is a plan of the globe and of the zodiac drawn out by him. There is also a universal history, with copious notes, in the same bold, clear, fine handwriting; and a series of his letters to the king, written in Latin. Above the bookshelves are a succession of curious portraits, including those of Christopher Columbus and his son Fernando, which were given by Louis Philippe to the library; of Velasquez; of Cardinal Mendoza; of S. Fernando, by Murillo; and of our own Cardinal Wiseman, who, a native of Seville, is held in the greatest love and veneration here. A touching little account of his life and death has lately been published in Seville by the talented Spanish author, Don Leon Carbonero y Sol, with the appropriate heading, "Sicut vita finis ita." Our party were also shown the sword of Fernand Gonsalves, a fine two-edged blade, which did good service in rescuing Seville from the Moors.

Redescending the stairs, our travellers mounted the beautiful Moorish tower of the Giralda, built in the twelfth century by Abu Yusuf Yacub, who was also the constructor of the bridge of boats across the Guadalquiver. This tower forms the great feature in every view of Seville, and is matchless both from its rich yellow and red-brown color, its sunken Moorish decorations, and the extreme beauty of its proportions. It was originally 250 feet high, and built as a minaret, from whence the muezzin summoned the faithful to prayers in the mosque hard by; but Ferdinand Riaz added another 100 feet, and, fortunately, in perfect harmony with the original design. He girdled it with a motto from Proverbs xviii.: "Nomen Domini fortissima turris."

{452}

The ascent is very easy, being by ramps sloping gently upward. The Giralda is under the special patronage of SS. Justina and Rufina, daughters of a potter in the town, who suffered martyrdom in 304 for refusing to sell their vessels for the use of the heathen sacrifices. Sta. Justina expired on the rack, while Sta. Rufina was strangled. The figure which crowns the tower is that of Faith, and is in bronze, and beautifully carved.

The bells are very fine in tone; but what repays one for the ascent is the view, not only over the whole town and neighborhood, but over the whole body of the huge cathedral, with its forest of pinnacles and its wonderfully constructed roof, which looks massive enough to outlast the world. The delicate Gothic balustrades are the home of a multitude of hawks, (the _Falco tinunculoides_,) who career round and round the beautiful tower, and are looked upon almost as sacred birds.

The thing which strikes one most in the look of the town from hence is the absence of streets. From their excessive narrowness, they are invisible at this great height, and the houses seem all massed together, without any means of egress or ingress. The view of the setting sun from this tower is a thing never to be forgotten; nor the effect of it lit up at night, when it seems to hang like a brilliant chandelier from the dark blue vault above.

Tired as our travellers were, they could not resist one short visit that afternoon to the Museum, and to that wonderful little room below, which contains a few pictures only, but those few unrivalled in the world.

Here, indeed, one sees what Murillo could do. The "St. Thomas of Villanueva," giving alms to the beggar, (called by the painter himself his _own_ picture;) the "St. Francis" embracing the crucified Saviour; the "St. Antony," with a lily in adoration before the infant Jesus; the "Nativity;" the "San Felix de Cantalicia," holding the infant Saviour in his arms, which the blessed Virgin is coming down to receive; the "SS. Rufina and Justina;" and last, not least, the Virgin, which earned him the title of "El Pintor de las Concepciones." Each and all are matchless in taste, in expression, in feeling; above all, in devotion. It is impossible to meditate on any one of these mysteries in our blessed Lord's life without the recollection of one of these pictures rising up instantly in one's mind, as the purest embodiment of the love, or the adoration, or the compunction, which such meditations are meant to call forth; they are in themselves a prayer.

In the evening one of the party went with the regent to call on the venerable cardinal archbishop, whose fine palace is exactly opposite the east front of the cathedral. It was very sad to wind up that fine staircase, and see him in that noble room, groping his way, holding on by the wall, for he is quite blind. It is hoped, however, that an operation for cataract, which is contemplated, may be successful. He was most kind, and gave the English stranger a place in the choir of the cathedral for the processional services of the holy week and Easter--a great favor, generally only accorded to royalty, and of which the lady did not fail to take advantage. M. Leon Carbonero y Sol, the author and clever editor of the "Crux," paid them a visit that evening. By his energy and perseverance this monthly periodical has been started at Seville, which is an event in this non-literary country; and he has written several works, both biographical and devotional, which deserve a wider reputation than they have yet obtained.

The following, day, being Wednesday in holy week, the whole party returned to the cathedral, to see the impressive and beautiful ceremony of the Rending of the White Veil, and the "Rocks being rent," at the moment when that passage is chanted in the Gospel of the Passion. The effect was very fine; and all the more from the sombre light of the cathedral, every window in which was shaded by black curtains, and every picture and image shrouded in black. [Footnote 142]

[Footnote 142: Faber says very beautifully: "Passion-tide veils the
face of the crucifix, only that it may be more vivid in our hearts."]

{453}

At vespers, the canons, as at Cadiz, knelt prostrate before the altar, and were covered with a black red-cross flag. At four o'clock our travellers went to the Audiencia, where the regent and his kind wife had given them all seats to see the processions. How are these to be described? They are certainly appreciated by the people themselves; but they are not suited to English taste, especially in the glare of a Seville sun: and unless representations of the terrible and awful events connected with our Lord's passion be depicted with the skill of a great artist, they become simply intensely painful. The thing which was touching and beautiful was the orderly arrangement of the processions themselves, and the way in which men of the highest rank, of royal blood, and of the noblest orders, did not hesitate to walk for hours through the dusty, crowded, burning streets for three successive days, with the sole motive of doing honor to their Lord, whose badge they wore.