THE ESCORIAL.

After gazing at this beautiful chapel the visitor is but little inclined to listen to the legends poured forth by the guides, of the relics collected by the "pious founder." They are said to have amounted to between seven and eight thousand. Peyron enumerates eleven whole bodies, three hundred heads, six hundred legs and arms, three hundred and forty-six veins and arteries, fourteen hundred odd bits, teeth, toes, etc. When the French were here in 1808 they stripped off the gold and precious stones from the relicario, carried away the shrine, and tied up the relics in a table-cloth, with a polite note to the prior, requesting his acceptance of these precious objects, adding, that if the relics really possessed the miraculous virtues ascribed to them, they would easily cause a new shrine to grow up around themselves. It is needless to add that this scoffing wish has not been realised.

The Panteon, or royal sepulchre, is under the chapel, and is so arranged that the royal dead lie immediately below the high altar. I last visited the Escorial on one of those delicious days in the late autumn which in Spain are so supremely enjoyable. As we left the clear radiant sunshine and the keen bright air of the mountains for the close dank vapours of the sepulchre, and the yellow lurid light of the torches, the contrast was not a little affecting. The impressiveness and pathos of the occasion were deepened by the strange weird noises of the wind, which had risen with great rapidity and violence, and seemed to wail, and howl, and shriek through the deserted courts of the Escorial with a thrilling effect. It was as though the builders of this grand and massive pile, the lords of this once mighty land, were bewailing their follies and their

crimes.

Like all the edifices in Spain which are not in actual occupation, the Escorial seems falling out of repair. On every side are traces of dilapidation. If speedy means be not taken to arrest the progress of decay, this immense palace, convent, and sepulchre will soon become a ruin, like the kingdom of which it is at once the centre and the type. Quite recently it has had a narrow escape of destruction by fire, and in the present deplorable state of Spanish finances there is little probability that the damage done will ever be repaired.

Passing the royal palace of San Ildefonso, and the wild and wooded scenery of La Granja, we reach Segovia, one of the most interesting cities even in Spain to the archaeologist and antiquarian. Spanish tradition carries it back to Tubal and Hercules. Sober philology finds in its name traces of an old Iberian origin. And its monumental remains attest and illustrate its preRoman, Roman, Gothic, and Moorish occupation. The city is situated on a rocky ridge at a considerable elevation above the plain. Its picturesque old walls, the Alcazar, the curious round towers, the quaint balconied houses, the cathedral, and, above all, the magnificent aqueduct, form a spectacle of rare interest and beauty. But, like all Spanish cities, it has a decayed and impoverished look. Once it was the centre of an important manufacture. Its

streets were thronged with active and thriving traders. Vast flocks of sheep were driven in from the surrounding country, to be washed in the waters of the Eresma; and their fleeces supplied the raw material which kept busy the numerous looms of the Segovian weavers. In the seventeenth century thirtyfour thousand persons were engaged in the manufacture of woollen cloths. The whole population of the city at present does not exceed ten thousand, and a few small poor manufactories in the suburb of San Lorenzo are all that remain of its once thriving industry.

The aqueduct is supposed to have been built by the Emperor Vespasian. The Segovians ascribe to it a much earlier origin, and call it el puente del diablo. Of course they have a wild legend to account for the devil having engaged in so arduous a task as the erection of this magnificent work. Its real object was to convey water over a steep ravine, of seven hundred feet wide and more than ninety feet deep. To effect this, two ranges of arches were thrown across, one above the other. The upper one is on a level with the high land on either side, and has, or had, one hundred and fifty-nine arches. Though the middle part of the aqueduct is ninety-four feet from the ground, yet the bases of the abutments are not more than eight feet wide-a fact which may illustrate, to those who have not seen it, the lightness, grace, and beauty of the structure. It is constructed of granite blocks about two feet square, which are hewn and fitted with such admirable accuracy that they are put together without mortar or cement of any kind. Though they depend for their cohesion solely upon the excellence of the workmanship, yet very few of the blocks have fallen away. The edges, however, are rounded and weather-worn.

The cathedral is a spacious and imposing pile of the early part of the sixteenth century. It is a fine but not a first-rate specimen of Gothic architecture. Ford, however, says, "It is one of the finest in Spain, and deserves great attention." The view from the tower is superb.

At Segovia we meet for the first time with one of those castellated and fortified palaces which the Moors built in every important city, and of which we shall meet with numerous specimens as we travel southwards. The Alcazar of Segovia stands west of the city, on the extremity of a rocky peninsula, which is separated from the surrounding country by the deep bed of the Eresma on one side, and on the other by the abrupt ravine which intersects the city. A deep trench cut across the rocky platform on which it stands completely isolates it, and made it almost impregnable before the introduction of siege artillery. It forms a most picturesque object, and is not without historical interest. Originally the abode and stronghold of the Moorish rulers of the country, it has in later times served as a prison for the pirates of Barbary and Morocco who have been taken along the coast of Spain. It may therefore very easily have happened that a descendant of the very prince who reared this stately pile has been brought hither a prisoner, and consigned to its dungeons. The central tower was for a long period the abode of state prisoners accused or condemned

SEGOVIA.

of high treason.

The readers of Gil Blas will remember that he was confined in this very tower. Here, too, our Charles I. was entertained in princely fashion on his romantic visit to Spain in search of a wife. "He lodged there on Wednesday, 13th September, 1623, and supped," says the record, "upon certaine trouts of extraordinary greatness."

NOTE. In the interval between the appearance of the first and second editions of Spanish Pictures, the forebodings expressed in the preceding chapter respecting the future of Spain have been but too fully verified. The first edition had scarcely left the press when an announcement that the Prince of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen was a favoured candidate for the Spanish throne furnished the occasion for the war between France and Germany. The obnoxious candidature being withdrawn, the council of ministers, who had been foiled in so many previous attempts, addressed themselves to Amadeus, Duke d'Aosta, second son of the King of Italy. His official acceptance of the candidature was notified on the 19th October, 1870, and on the 16th November following, a large majority of the Cortes voted his election as King of Spain. He landed at Cartagena on the 30th December, expecting to be met by General Prim. But Prim lay helpless in Madrid, the victim of assassination. Before the young king set out for the capital, news of the general's death reached him. He entered Madrid on the 2nd January, 1871, and for two years manfully endeavoured to secure liberty, order, and prosperity for his adopted country. Having seen his efforts thwarted by factious politicians, his queen insulted by the nobility, and having narrowly escaped death by the hands of assassins, he renounced the crown, and returned to Italy early in 1873. Since then the country has been torn to pieces by civil war. A federal republic at Madrid, the Carlists in the northern provinces, and Intransigentes everywhere have been contending fiercely for the mastery. A period of anarchy has set in, the end of which it is impossible to foresee.

THROUGH CORDOVA TO

GRANADA.