The cathedral itself is a noble Gothic structure,reputed the finest of the kind in Spain.In the chapels allotted to the various saints are some of the most magnificent paintings which Spanish art has produced.Here are to be seen the far-famed 'Angel of the Guard,'by Murillo,his 'Saint Anthony at Devotion,'the celestial spirits hovering around him,and Saint Thomas of Villa Nueva bestowing Charity';there are also some pictures by Soberan [?Zurbaran]of almost inestimable value.Indeed,the cathedral at Seville is at the present time far more rich in splendid paintings than at any former period,possessing many very recently removed from some of the suppressed convents,particularly from the Capuchin and Franciscan.
No one should visit Seville without paying particular attention to the Alcazar.It is perhaps the most perfect specimen of Moorish architecture which is at present to be found in Europe.It contains many splendid halls,particularly that of the Ambassadors,so called,which is in every respect more magnificent than the one of the same name within the Alhambra of Granada.This palace was a favourite residence of Peter the Cruel,who carefully repaired it,without altering its Moorish character and appearance.It probably remains in much the same state as at the time of his death.
On the right side of the river is a large suburb called Triana,communicating with Seville by means of a bridge of boats;for there is no permanent bridge across the Guadalquivir owing to the violent inundations to which it is subject.This suburb is inhabited by the dregs of the populace,and abounds with Gitanos or Gypsies.
About a league and a half to the north-west stands the village of Santo Ponce;at the foot and on the side of some elevated ground higher up are to be seen vestiges of ruined walls and edifices which once formed part of Italica,the birth-place of Silius Italicus and Trajan,from which latter personage Triana derives its name.One fine morning I walked thither,and having ascended the hill I directed my course northward.I soon reached what had once been bagnios,and a little farther on,in a kind of valley between two gentle acclivities,the amphitheatre.This latter object is by far the most considerable relic of ancient Italica;it is oval in its form,with two gateways,fronting the east and west.On all sides are to be seen the time-worn broken granite benches,from whence myriads of human beings once gazed down on the area below,where the gladiator shouted,and the lion and leopard yelled.All around beneath these flights of benches are vaulted excavations,from whence the combatants,part human,part bestial,darted forth by their several doors.I spent several hours in this singular place,forcing my way through the wild fennel and brushwood into the caverns,now the haunts of adders and other reptiles,whose hissings I heard.Having sated my curiosity,I left the ruins,and returning by another way reached a place where lay the carcase of a horse half-devoured.Upon it with lustrous eyes stood an enormous vulture,who,as I approached,slowly soared aloft till he alighted on the eastern gate of the amphitheatre,from whence he uttered a hoarse cry,as if in anger that I had disturbed him from his feast of carrion.
And now for another subject.You are doubtless anxious to know what are my projects,and why I am not by this time further advanced on my way to Madrid;know then that the way to Madrid is beset with more perils than harassed Christian in his route to the Eternal Kingdom.Almost all communication is at an end between this place and the capital,the diligences and waggons have ceased running,even the bold ARRIEROS or muleteers are at a stand-still;and the reason is that the rural portion of Spain,especially this part,is in a state of complete disorganisation and of blackest horror.The three fiends,famine,plunder,and murder,are playing their ghastly revels unchecked;bands of miscreants captained by such -what shall I call them?-as Orejita and Palillos,are prowling about in every direction,and woe to those whom they meet.
A few days since they intercepted an unfortunate courier,and after scooping out his eyes put him to death with most painful tortures,and mangled his body in a way not to be mentioned.Moreover,the peasantry,who have been repeatedly plundered by these fellows,and who have had their horses and cattle taken from them by the Carlists,being reduced with their families to nakedness and the extreme of hunger,seize in rage and desperation upon every booty which comes within their reach,a circumstance which can awaken but little surprise.
This terrible state of things,staring me in the face on my arrival at Seville,made me pause.I thought that the tempest might in some degree subside,but hitherto I have been disappointed.My mind is at present made up.I shall depart for Madrid in two or three days,at all risks.The distance is 300miles.I shall hire,in the first place,horses,and a guide,as far as Cordova (twenty-six leagues).I shall have to pay a great price,it is true,but I have money,praised be God,who inspired me with the idea of putting fifty sovereigns in my pocket when I left London.
