Now, Alicant would have much difficulty, at present at least, in bringing about this mixture, which I acknowledge as very desirable and picturesque, seeing, in the first place, that it has no minarets, and that the only steeple it possesses is a very low and far from important tower. What characterizes Alicant is an enormous rock, which rises in the middle of the town; and this rock, of a magnificent form and colour, is crowned with a fortress, and flanked with a watch-tower that was suspended over the abyss in the most audacious manner. The town-hall, or, to keep up the local colour, the palace of the Constitucion, is a delightful edifice, constructed in the best possible taste. The Alameda, paved throughout with stone, is shaded by two or three rows of trees, pretty well supplied with leaves for Spanish trees, of which the roots do not revel in a well. The houses rise high, and assume European forms. I saw two women wearing yellow brimstone-coloured bonnets—a menacing symptom. This is all I know of Alicant, where the boat only remained long enough to take in some freight and coal, and we profited by this stoppage to go and breakfast on shore. As may be imagined, we did not neglect the opportunity of making some conscientious experiments on the wine, which in spite of its incontestable authenticity, I did not find so good as I thought I should: this perhaps arose from the taste of pepper which had been imparted to it by the bota in which it was contained. Our next stage was to take us to Valencia, Valencia del Cid, as the Spaniards say.

From Alicant to Valencia, the cliffs along the shore continue to rise in curious forms, and to assume unexpected appearances: our attention was called to the summit of a mountain, where there was a square chasm, which seemed as if it had been cut out by the hand of man. Towards morning, on the following day, we cast anchor before the Grao; this is the name given to the harbour and suburb of Valencia, which is at half a league's distance from the sea. The waves ran high, and when we arrived at the landing-place, we were pretty well sprinkled with sea water. There we took a tartan to go to the town. The word tartan is generally taken in a maritime sense; but the tartan of Valencia is a case covered with oil-cloth, and placed on two wheels, without any springs whatever. This vehicle, compared to the galeras, seemed effeminately luxurious to us; and no fashionably-made carriage ever appeared more soft. We were quite surprised and embarrassed at being so comfortable. Large trees bordered our route, affording us a pleasure to which we had not been accustomed for some time.

With regard to picturesque appearance, Valencia corresponds pretty well with the notion formed of it from romances and chronicles. It is a large, flat, scattered town, laid out in a confused manner, and possesses none of those advantages that disorder in construction imparts to old towns built on hilly sites. Valencia is situated in a plain named the Huerta, in the midst of gardens and cultivated lands, where constant irrigation keeps everything cool and fresh—a very rare circumstance in Spain. The climate is so mild, that palm-trees and orange-trees grow in the open air by the side of products of the north. Valencia, therefore, carries on a great trade in oranges, which are measured by being passed through a ring, like cannon-balls when calibre is required to be known. Those which cannot pass constitute the choicest. The Guadalaviar, over which are five handsome stone bridges, and which is bordered by a superb promenade, runs by the side of the city, nearly beneath the ramparts. The frequent use made of its waters for irrigation render these five bridges mere objects of ornament for three-fourths of the year. The gate of the Cid, through which you pass to go to the promenade of the Guadalaviar, is flanked with large embattled towers, which produce a pretty good effect.

The streets of Valencia are narrow, and bordered with high houses of a sullen aspect, some of which still bear mutilated coats of arms; you can also perceive fragments of worn-out sculptures, chimeras without claws, women without noses, and knights without arms. A casement in the style of the Renaissance, but which is lost and imbedded in a frightful wall of recent workmanship, causes from time to time an artist to raise his eyes, and utter a sigh of regret; you must, however, look for such rare vestiges in obscure corners, and at the bottom of back-courts, for Valencia itself has quite a modern aspect. The cathedral, built in a style of hybrid architecture, possesses nothing, in spite of an apsis with a gallery furnished with Roman semicircular arches, which can attract the attention of the traveller after the wonders of Burgos, Toledo, and Seville. A few finely-sculptured altar-screens, a painting by Sebastian del Piombo, and another by Espagnoletto, executed in his softest style, when he was trying to imitate Correggio, are the only things worthy of remark. The other churches, though both numerous and rich, are built and decorated in that strange style of bad ornamentation of which we have already given a description several times. On beholding all these extravagances, you can but regret so much talent should have been thrown away on such subjects. La Longa de Seda (purse of silk) on the market-place, is a delightful Gothic monument; the grand hall, the vaulted roof of which rests on rows of pillars with wreathed nervures of extreme lightness, presents an appearance of elegance and sprightliness rarely met with in Gothic architecture, which is in general more fitted to express melancholy than happiness. It is in the Longa that the fêtes and masked balls of the carnival take place. Before we have done speaking of the monumental buildings, let us say a few words about the ancient Convent of La Merced, where a great number of pictures have been collected, some mediocre, and the others, with very few exceptions, extremely bad. What delighted me more than anything else at La Merced, was a yard surrounded by a cloister, and planted with palm-trees, perfectly oriental by their size and beauty, and which shot up like spires through the limpid air.

The real attraction of Valencia, for a traveller, is its population; or, to speak more correctly, that of the Huerta which surrounds it. The Valencian peasants wear a costume of characteristic strangeness of appearance, which cannot have varied much since the invasion of the Arabs, and which differs very little from the present costume of the Moors of Africa. This costume consists of a shirt, of flowing drawers of coarse linen, kept up by a red sash, and of a green or blue velvet waistcoat, furnished with buttons made of small pieces of silver money; the legs are clothed in a sort of knémides or leggings of white wool, with a blue border, which leave the knee and instep exposed to view. For shoes, they wear alpargatas, sandals of plaited cords, the soles of which are nearly an inch thick, and which are tied by ribbons like the buskins of the Greeks. Their heads are generally shaved in the oriental fashion, and they are nearly always enveloped in a handkerchief of a gaudy colour; and on this handkerchief is placed a little low-shaped hat, with a turned-up brim, and ornamented with velvet, silk tassels, spangles, and tinsel. A piece of motley-coloured stuff, called a capa de muestra, ornamented with rosettes of yellow ribbon, and which is thrown across the shoulder, completes this costume, full of nobleness and character. The Valencian keeps his money, his bread, his water-melon, and his navaja, in the corners of his café, which he arranges in a thousand different manners; it forms for him, at the same time, a wallet and a cloak. At present, we are only speaking, it must be remembered, of the full dress costume, of the holiday suit. On ordinary days, the Valencian keeps on hardly anything but his shirt and drawers; and then, with his enormous black whiskers, his sunburnt face, his fierce look, and his bronze-coloured arms and legs, he has quite the appearance of a Bedouin, especially if he undoes his handkerchief and exposes to view his bare head, looking as smooth and blue as a well-bearded chin just shaved. In spite of Spanish pretensions to catholicism, I shall always find much difficulty to bring myself to think that such stalwart fellows are not Mussulmans. It is probably, owing to this ferocious air, that the Valencians have obtained the name of bad people (male gente), by which they are designated in the other provinces of Spain. I was told a hundred times in the Huerta of Valencia, that when any one wanted to get rid of another person, it was not difficult to find a peasant who, for five or six douros, would undertake the business. This appears to me barefaced calumny. In the country I have often met with individuals delighting in a frightful expression of countenance, but they always saluted me with the greatest politeness. One evening, we lost our way, and we were near being compelled to sleep in the open air, as the gates of the city were closed when we arrived there; but nothing happened to us, although it had been dark for some time, and though Valencia and its environs were in a state of revolution.

By a singular contrast, the wives of these European Zabyles are pale and fair, bionde e grassote, as the women of Venice; they have a sweet, melancholy smile on their lips, and a tender look in their blue eyes; it would be impossible to conceive a stronger contrast. These dark demons of the paradise of the Huerta have fair angels for their wives, whose beautiful hair is kept in its place by a high-backed comb, or by long pins ornamented at the end by large silver or glass beads. Formerly, the Valencian women used to wear a lovely national costume, which resembled that of the women of Albania; but they have, unfortunately, cast it aside to make room for a frightful Anglo-French style of attire, for dresses with shoulder-of-mutton sleeves, and other abominations. It is worthy of remark that the women are always the first to quit the national costume; and almost the only persons in Spain who have preserved the ancient manner of dressing are the men of the lower classes. This want of discrimination with respect to costume in an essentially coquettish sex surprises us; but our astonishment ceases, when we reflect that women only possess the sentiment of fashion and not that of beauty. A woman will always think any wretched piece of rag lovely, if it is the height of fashion to wear this piece of rag.

We had now been at Valencia some nine or ten days, waiting for another steamer, for the weather had disorganized the regular departure of the boats, and had greatly interfered with all correspondence. Our curiosity was satisfied; and all we now thought of was returning to Paris, to again behold our parents, our friends, the dear boulevards, and the dear gutters; I even think—may Heaven forgive me!—that I cherished the secret desire of seeing a vaudeville; in a word, civilized life, which had been forgotten for the last six months, called imperiously for our return. We longed to read the daily papers, to sleep in our own beds, and had, besides, a thousand other Bœotian fancies. At length, a packet arrived from Gibraltar, and took us to Porte Vendres, after allowing us to visit Barcelona, where it stopped for a few hours. The aspect of Barcelona resembles that of Marseilles, and there is hardly any trace of the Spanish type about it; the edifices are large and regular, and, were it not for the immense blue velvet trousers and the ample red caps of the Catalonians, you would fancy yourself in a town of France. In spite of its Rambla, planted with trees, and its handsome straight streets, Barcelona appears somewhat cramped and stiff, like all towns which are too tightly laced in a doublet of fortifications.

The cathedral is very handsome, especially the interior, which is sombre, mysterious, and almost inspires you with fear.

The organ is of Gothic structure, and shuts with two large panels covered with paintings; a Saracen's head is making a frightful grimace beneath the pendentive which supports the organ. Beautiful lustres of the fifteenth century, full of open-worked figures like reliquaries, hang from the nervures of the roof. On leaving the church, you enter a fine cloister of the same epoch; its silence incites to reverie, and its half-ruined arcades are characterized by the greyish tints of the old buildings of the north. The calle of La Plateria (the goldsmith's art) dazzles the eyes by its shop-fronts and glass-cases, which sparkle with jewellery, especially with enormous ear-rings as large as small bunches of grapes, of a heavy and massive richness; and, though rather barbarously made, productive of a very majestic effect: they are principally bought by peasant-women in easy circumstances.

The next day we entered, at ten o'clock in the morning, the little bay at the end of which Porte Vendres rises. We were in France. And—must I own it?—on setting foot on the soil of my country, I felt my eyes fill with tears, not of joy, however, but of regret. The Vermilion Towers, the silvery tops of the Sierra Neveda, the rose-bays of the Generalife, the long, soft, limpid looks, the pink-blossom lips, the little feet and the little hands of the daughters of Spain, all came back to my mind so vividly, that it appeared to me that France, where, however, I was about to see my mother again, was a land of exile for me. My dream was over.