CADIZ.
IT is hard to believe that Cadiz was once one of the most important cities of Spain. At present it is in decline. In the old days, when the lions of Castile floated from the fortresses of the Netherlands and the advance posts of the armies of Peru and of Mexico, this was the port which received the full stream of the commerce of the New World. Hither came the tall galleons laden with ingots of the Indies and the gold bars of the Incas. Hither came also the trade of the Levant. The waters which wash the pink and brown shores of Cape Trafalgar were the great high road which led from the East to the Court of Madrid. Moreover, thither came students from France and Germany to learn the art of bookkeeping in the city in which it was first generally adopted. That was the period of the grandeur of Cadiz. But its origin goes much further back. The Phcenicians founded it and built a trading-post on the extremity of the narrow- necked peninsula which inclosee like an arm the blue and tranquil waters of the bay. They implanted in Spain the secret of the preservation of tunny, which is still fished for and prepared in the long white-washed sheds which face the Atlantic upon the narrow sandy spit of the neck of the isthmus. After a comparatively short occupation, however, they abandoned the site and the town fell into the hands of the Goths. Later on, when Moorish kings reigned in Granada and the muezzin called to prayer from the Giralda of Seville, Cadiz was a notable fortress of the Christian rulers in Andalusia. Since then it has been the scene of some of the most notable events of Spanish history. Off La °anima, where the dazzling white pyramids of salt blink in the brown marshes, the fleet of the allies lay on the eve of the day which was to witness Trafalgar. It is related that late in the evening Villeneuve summoned the Spanish admirals to a conference on board the Bucentaure.' They had come determined to offer fight within the shelter of the bay. Outside Nelson had been seen with the whole British fleet. "Look," said Gravina, after a discussion in which neither side had been at pains to conceal the differences that separated them—" look, the barometer is falling ; there is a storm working up." "It is not the barometer that is dropping," retorted the Frenchman, "but the courage of my allies." The Spaniards left the cabin deeply offended, but the fleet sailed at daybreak of the following morning. By the evening Trafalgar bad been fought and the dismantled 'Santa Ana' had been driven by the tempest on Samlucar Point, while the shattered relic of the squadron crept laboriously into harbour in the teeth of the Levant.
But the chief title to fame which is claimed by the ancient town is that here, during the War of Independence, or, as we call it, the Peninsular War, the first really representative Cortes met and defied Napoleon to do his worst. Out in the country, beyond San Fernando and the salt lagoons, in tiny. bleached Chiclana de la Frontera, was a French army. The scorching and dusty white road which leads to the rest of Spain was deserted, abandoned by the creaking carts with their teams of ragged mules and the strings of little shaved grey donkeys that usually plod slowly in from the country, laden under great sagging panniers of produce. The Spanish forces lay behind the walls of the town. They sustained a protracted siege which was ultimately raised by Wellington. When it was over the Cortes retired to Madrid; but Cadiz was the birthplace of the first Parliament in Spain which asserted the constitutional rights of the people.
As you approach from the sea the snow-white buildings of the city seem to rise almost out of the water. To the west juts out a spur of rock terminated by a lighthouse. To the north lies a long flat shore, fringed with yellow sand. Dimly blue loom the shadows of the low hills which screen the rich vine-clad slopes of Jerez, You enter the bay where a few tramp steamers are at anchor loading from lighters and two or three sailing ships, come to carry salt to the New World, and the inner harbour reveals itself, crowded with fishing boats with raking masts and lateen sails which bring every morning from Chipiona, and Rota the great yellow and green melons and the baskets of tomatoes which have grown out there across the water in gardens of loose and shifting sand. Behind the clustering boats is a vista of tall white houses and a palm-fringed Plaza. It is the only part of the town which lies open to the sea. Around nearly the whole circumference are the fortifications raised against the French a century ago. A broad walk, paved with flags intergrown with moss and weeds, runs along the top of these walls. Formerly there were guns ; but now nothing remains save the concrete of their emplacements; and now the engineer is at work upon them pulling part of them down to make a wide open square in front of the port which is being deepened.
In Cadiz the great drawback is the lack of space. The city cannot expand laterally, and the only remedy is to build houses high and many-storied. The result of this cramping is very apparent in the narrow and devious streets, paved with execrable cobbles. Hardly any of them are more than fifteen feet wide, and in only one can two carts pass abreast. If the street is occupied, "Dios mio 1" you wait until it is clear.
The shops are small and low and the cafes many. It is the custom in the South to spend a good part of the day in these cafés. The habitue takes his coffee in the morning, his cognac at midday, and in the evening the three little glasses of raanzanilla with which is served a tiny dish of meat. Or he patronizes a fried-fish shop. These establishments are visited by nearly all classes, and the custom is to buy fish for a rea/ to eat at the cena at ten o'clock in the evening. The narrow streets have the advantage over the broader ones in Europe (it may be remarked here that in the Peninsula it is considered that Spain does not form a part of that continent) that they are very much cooler than any thorough- fare could possibly be that was open to the sun of Andalusia.
In very hot weather awnings are stretched from roof to roof above the apparent tangle of telegraph wires. Then there is a cool gloaming in these deep, narrow, crevasse- like streets, and life is bearable. For Cadiz, it must be remembered, is very near Africa. That is a fact which is brought home to the visitor in a very practical way. When.
the Levant wind blows it brings with it grit and sand from the Morocco coast, and this penetrates everywhere—. into the houses and the shops, even into the beds. It is impoesible to find peace from the Levant. It torments von with the clouds of dust it raises in the streets and follows you into your house. Nevertheless it sweeps away diseases. This is one of the healthiest towns in Spain, and it is certain that this happy state has nothing to do with hygiene. That is conspicuous only by its absence. Water is dear and scarce. Baths are more so.
Cadiz was built by the Moors, and so there is hardly in the whole town a single sloping tiled roof to be seen. The
tops of the houses are flat and surrounded by parapets. Hither the' families repair after the evening meal to pass their time with guitar and violin in the soft coolness of the semi- tropical summer night. Beyond the sea of flat roofs, from
which emerges an occasional miracles., or watch-tower, may be seen the silvery path of the moon on the hushed surface
of the Atlantic. To the south are the twin masses of the cathedral towers, standing sentinel over the city, the incarna- tion of that power which rules above the throne. For to-day, even as three hundred years ago, the Church is master in Spain ; the revolution and political disturbances of the last century have shaken, but not reduced, her hitherto impregnable position.
The chief ecclesiastical ceremony of the year is the proces- sion of Corpus Christi. For this spectacle the Plaza, down which the Ayuntarniento looks between rows of spreading date.palms on to the fishing craft of the inner port, is shaded by great green awnings stayed to poles fastened to the houses on either side. Beneath hang garlands of artificial flowers and streamers of paper ivy. This is the best place to see the cortege pass, and here there is a double line of troops drawn up to keep the route clear. It is a scene of brilliant colour and effect, formed of the ever-moving holiday crowd and the scarlet and blue uniforms of the soldiers. The girls come in white dresses, and mantillas cover their hair ; the hat has hardly penetrated as yet into the southernmost province of Spain. Water-sellers cry raucously, and vendors of cakes and nuts wind in and out among the throng. From the balconies of the houses hang great festoons of red and yellow muslin. The sun beats down on the awning overhead and the long palm fronds droop motionless in the hot and stifling air.
The procession itself is much like others. But the Oustodia deserves mention as one of the most noted in Spain. It is carried raised on a platform draped with hangings of scarlet and yellow. The superior clergy of the cathedral follow behind in vestments of gold. The Custodia itself is a casket of pure gold beautifully wrought. It is sheltered beneath a canopy of silver filigree work supported by.six fluted silver columns. After it comes a detachment of soldiers, and the procession ends. The crowd closes together in its wake and slowly disperses, for there is a corrida in the afternoon, and it is time to get ready for it.
You should not leave Cadiz without passing through the Barrio de In Visa. This is the poor quarter of the oldest part of the town. Here the houses are lower and the streets broader and dirtier. Obscure dens display for sale a few miserable apples, or tomatoes, and a string of garlic. On the shady side of the way ragged but cheerful children, brown as little Moors, play in the gutter. Gaunt curs slip out of ill- looking tenements to bark at your approach. In the middle of the cobbles of the road the flies swarm round some piece of offal thrown out into the sun. In a shady corner a stout and unclean woman is boiling snaky churros enveloped in a cloud of steam. The uneven street and its tumbledown white- washed houses have seen more history than any other part of this crowded and swarming city. Many times Ayuntamientos, full of zeal and electoral promises, have wished to pull down the Barrio and build it afresh. But to-morrow in Andalusia is always better than to-day for carrying out a plan. And to-morrow never comes.
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