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Ansys Fluent in AnsysWorkbench User's Guide
Release 2023 R1
ANSYS,Inc.
January 2023
Southpointe
2600 Ansys Drive
Canonsburg,PA 15317 ANSYS,Inc.and
ANSYS Europe,
ansysinfo@ansys.com
Ltd.are UL
http://www.ansys.com registered ISO
(T) 724-746-3304
(F) 724-514-9494
9001:2015
companies.

Copyright and Trademark Information
© 2023 ANSYS, Inc. Unauthorized use, distribution or duplication is prohibited.
ANSYS, Ansys Workbench, AUTODYN, CFX, FLUENT and any and all ANSYS, Inc. brand, product, service and feature
names, logos and slogans are registered trademarks or trademarks of ANSYS, Inc. or its subsidiaries located in the
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of Sony Corporation in Japan. All other brand, product, service and feature names or trademarks are the property
of their respective owners. FLEXlm and FLEXnet are trademarks of Flexera Software LLC.
Disclaimer Notice
THIS ANSYS SOFTWARE PRODUCT AND PROGRAM DOCUMENTATION INCLUDE TRADE SECRETS AND ARE CONFID-
ENTIAL AND PROPRIETARY PRODUCTS OF ANSYS, INC., ITS SUBSIDIARIES, OR LICENSORS. The software products
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See the legal information in the product help files for the complete Legal Notice for ANSYS proprietary software
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Published in the U.S.A.

Table of Contents
Using This Manual ........................................................................................................................................ xi
1.The Contents of This Manual ............................................................................................................... xi
2.Typographical Conventions ................................................................................................................. xi
1.Getting Started With Fluent in Workbench ........................................................................................... 15
1.1. Introduction to Workbench ............................................................................................................. 15
1.1.1. Limitations ............................................................................................................................. 16
1.2.The Workbench Graphical User Interface ......................................................................................... 17
1.3. Creating Fluent-Based Systems ....................................................................................................... 19
1.3.1. Fluent-Based Analysis Systems ............................................................................................... 19
1.3.2. Fluent-Based Component Systems ......................................................................................... 22
1.4. Understanding Cell States with Fluent in Workbench ....................................................................... 23
1.5. Starting Fluent in Workbench .......................................................................................................... 25
1.5.1. Starting Fluent from a Fluent-Based System ............................................................................ 25
1.5.2. Specifying Fluent Launcher Settings Within Workbench .......................................................... 25
1.5.2.1. Specifying Fluent Launcher Settings Using Cell Properties .............................................. 26
1.5.2.2. Copying Fluent Launcher Property Settings ................................................................... 33
1.5.3. Specifying Other Setup and Solution Cell Settings .................................................................. 34
1.6. Registering and Unregistering Startup Scheme Files ........................................................................ 35
1.7. Saving Your Work in Fluent with Workbench .................................................................................... 35
1.8.Exiting Fluent and Workbench ......................................................................................................... 36
1.9. An Example of a Fluent Analysis in Workbench ................................................................................ 37
1.10.Getting Help for Fluent in Workbench ............................................................................................ 40
2.Working With Fluent in Workbench ...................................................................................................... 43
2.1.Importing Fluent files in Workbench ................................................................................................ 43
2.1.1. Importing files from Workbench Project Schematic .............................................................. 44
2.1.1.1.Importing Mesh and Case Files ....................................................................................... 44
2.1.1.2.Importing Solution Files ................................................................................................. 45
2.1.1.2.1.Importing Fluent Solution Files for the Purpose of Initialization .............................. 45
2.1.1.2.2. Importing Data Files as Final Results ...................................................................... 46
2.1.1.3.Importing Case and Data Files ........................................................................................ 47
2.1.2. Importing Files Directly in Fluent ............................................................................................ 47
2.2. Using the Update Command ........................................................................................................... 48
2.3.Refreshing Fluent Input Data ........................................................................................................... 52
2.4. Reloading Data and Synchronizing Fluent with Workbench ............................................................. 53
2.5.Deleting Solution and Setup Cell Data for Fluent-Based Systems ...................................................... 53
2.5.1. Using the Clear Generated Data Command ............................................................................. 54
2.5.2.Using the Reset Command from the Setup and Solution Cells of Fluent-Based Systems ............ 54
2.5.3.Using the Clear Old Solution Data Command from the Solution Cells of Fluent-Based Sys-
tems ............................................................................................................................................... 54
2.6. Interrupting, Restarting, and Continuing a Calculation ..................................................................... 55
2.6.1. Interrupting a Calculation ....................................................................................................... 55
2.6.2. Continuing and Restarting a Calculation ................................................................................. 56
2.6.3. Recovering Case and Data Files after an Unexpected Interruption ........................................... 56
2.7.Monitoring Fluent Solutions in Workbench ...................................................................................... 57
2.8.Generating Fluent Project Reports ................................................................................................... 61
2.9. Connecting Systems in Workbench ................................................................................................. 62
2.9.1.Connecting Multiple Upstream Meshes to a Setup Cell of a Fluent-Based System ..................... 64
2.9.2.Connecting Systems by Dragging and Dropping a System from the Toolbox onto Another
System ........................................................................................................................................... 65
iii
Release2023R1-©ANSYS,Inc.Allrightsreserved.-Containsproprietaryandconfidentialinformation
of ANSYS,Inc.and its subsidiaries and affiliates.

2.9.3.Connecting Systems By Dragging and Dropping Fluent-Based Solution Cells Onto Other Sys-
tems ............................................................................................................................................... 67
2.10. Duplicating Fluent-Based Systems ................................................................................................. 68
2.11. Recording Mesh Manipulation Operations and Resolving Mesh Incompatibility in Fluent ............... 69
2.12.Changing the Settings and Mesh in Fluent ..................................................................................... 74
2.12.1. Changing Case and Mesh Settings Before Beginning a Calculation ........................................ 75
2.12.2.Changing Case and Mesh Settings After a Calculation Has Started ......................................... 76
2.13. Case Modification Strategies with Fluent and Workbench .............................................................. 79
2.14.Working With Input and Output Parameters in Workbench ............................................................ 81
2.15.Reduced Order Model (ROM) Evaluation in Fluent .......................................................................... 82
2.16.Viewing Your Fluent Data Using Ansys CFD-Post ............................................................................ 82
2.17. Understanding the File Structure for Fluent in Workbench ............................................................. 84
2.17.1. Fluent File Naming in Workbench ......................................................................................... 87
2.18.Working with Ansys Licensing ....................................................................................................... 88
2.18.1. Shared Licensing Mode ........................................................................................................ 88
2.19.Using Fluent With the Remote Solve Manager (RSM) ...................................................................... 89
2.20. Using Custom Systems .................................................................................................................. 89
2.21.Using Journaling and Scripting with Fluent in Workbench .............................................................. 89
2.22. Performing Fluent and Maxwell Coupling in Workbench ................................................................ 90
2.22.1.One–Way Coupling Between Maxwell and Fluent Within Workbench ..................................... 90
2.22.2.Two–Way Coupling Between Maxwell and Fluent Within Workbench ..................................... 92
2.22.3. Handling Coupling Iterations Between Maxwell and Fluent ................................................... 94
3. Getting Started with Fluent Meshing in Workbench ............................................................................ 97
3.1. Limitations ..................................................................................................................................... 97
3.2. Starting Fluent (in Meshing Mode or Solution Mode) in Workbench ................................................. 98
3.3.Using the Fluent Guided Meshing Workflows ................................................................................... 99
3.4. Saving Your Work in Fluent Meshing with Workbench .................................................................... 103
3.5.Exiting Fluent Meshing and Workbench ......................................................................................... 103
3.6. An Example of a Fluent Meshing Analysis in Workbench ................................................................ 103
3.7.Using Parallel Fluent Meshing ........................................................................................................ 105
3.8. Connecting to Upstream Geometry ............................................................................................... 105
3.9.Support for the Remote Solve Manager (RSM) in Fluent (with Fluent Meshing) Systems .................. 107
3.10. Using a Journal File for the Mesh Cell .......................................................................................... 108
3.11.Using a Journal File to Parameterize Fluent Meshing Inputs .......................................................... 108
3.12.Getting Help for Fluent Meshing in Workbench ............................................................................ 109
Bibliography ............................................................................................................................................. 111
A.The Fluent Ribbon Tab Under Workbench .............................................................................................. 113
A.1.File/Refresh Input Data ............................................................................................................... 113
A.2. File/Recorded Mesh Operations... .............................................................................................. 113
A.3. File/Save Project ......................................................................................................................... 113
A.4. File/Reload .................................................................................................................................. 114
A.5. File/Sync Workbench .................................................................................................................. 114
A.6. File/Import/Mesh... ..................................................................................................................... 114
A.7. File/Import/Case... ...................................................................................................................... 114
A.8. File/Import/Data... ...................................................................................................................... 114
A.9.File/Import/Case and Data... ....................................................................................................... 114
A.10. File/Export/... ............................................................................................................................ 115
A.11.File/EM Mapping/Volumetric Energy Source... .............................................................................. 115
A.11.1. Maxwell Mapping Volumetric Dialog Box ............................................................................ 115
A.12. File/EM Mapping/Surface Energy Source... ................................................................................... 116
A.12.1. Maxwell Mapping Surface Dialog Box ................................................................................. 117
iv
Fluent in Workbench User's Guide

A.13. File/Close Without Save ............................................................................................................ 118
B.The Fluent Meshing Menu under Workbench ......................................................................................... 119
B.1. File/Refresh Input Data ............................................................................................................... 119
B.2. File/Save Project ......................................................................................................................... 119
B.3. File/Import .................................................................................................................................. 119
B.4. File/Export .................................................................................................................................. 120
B.5. File/Close Without Save .............................................................................................................. 120
C.The Workbench Tools Toolbar Commands ............................................................................................ 121
v
Fluent in Workbench User's Guide

vi

List of Figures
1.1.The Workbench Graphical User Interface ............................................................................................... 18
1.2. Selecting the Fluid Flow (Fluent) Analysis System in Workbench .......................................................... 19
1.3. A Fluid Flow (Fluent) Analysis System .................................................................................................. 20
1.4. Selecting the Fluent Component System in Workbench ........................................................................ 22
1.5. A Fluent Component System ................................................................................................................ 23
1.6.A Fluent (with Fluent Meshing) Component System ............................................................................ 23
1.7.Properties for Fluent-Based Systems in Workbench ................................................................................ 27
2.1.The Properties Pane of the Parameter Set .............................................................................................. 51
2.2. Example of the Solution Monitors Outline Pane Within Workbench ........................................................ 58
2.3.Example of a Fluent Scene Pane within Workbench ................................................................................ 60
2.4. Connected Systems Within Workbench ................................................................................................. 64
2.5.Applying the Mesh Settings to a New Fluent-Based Component System by Dragging and Dropping
Systems ...................................................................................................................................................... 65
2.6.Transferring Solution Data or Mesh Data to a New Fluent-Based Component System by Dragging and
Dropping Systems ...................................................................................................................................... 66
2.7.An Example of Two Unconnected Systems ............................................................................................. 67
2.8.An Example of Dragging and Dropping a Solution Cell Onto Another Compatible Cell ............................ 67
2.9.An Example of Two Connected Systems ................................................................................................. 67
2.10.The Recorded Mesh Operations and Incoming Zones Dialog Box .......................................................... 71
2.11.Reviewing the Details of Rotating the Mesh in the Recorded Mesh Operations Dialog Box .................... 72
2.12.The Match Zone Names Dialog Box ..................................................................................................... 73
2.13.The Mesh has changed! Dialog Box ...................................................................................................... 75
2.14.The Settings have changed! Dialog Box ............................................................................................... 77
2.15.The Mesh and settings have changed! Dialog Box ................................................................................ 78
2.16.The Mesh and settings have changed! Dialog Box ................................................................................ 78
2.17.Accessing Solution Strategies in Fluent ................................................................................................ 80
2.18. Multiple Fluent Results Loaded Into Ansys CFD-Post ............................................................................ 83
2.19.Example of the Directory Structure for a Fluent-Based Project in Workbench ........................................ 85
2.20.The Files Pane for a Project in Workbench ............................................................................................ 85
3.1. Connecting Upstream Geometry and Mesh Cells ................................................................................. 106
vii

viii

List of Tables
1. Mini Flow Chart Symbol Descriptions ....................................................................................................... xii
2.1.Compatible Drop Targets for the Solution cell of a Fluent-Based System ................................................ 68
1.Workbench Tools Toolbar Commands ..................................................................................................... 121
2. Mesh Cell Commands ............................................................................................................................ 122
3. Setup Cell Commands ........................................................................................................................... 122
4.Solution Cell Commands ........................................................................................................................ 122
5. Update Mesh/Setup/Solution ................................................................................................................ 123
ix

x

Using This Manual
This preface is divided into the following sections:
1.The Contents of This Manual
2.Typographical Conventions
1.The Contents of This Manual
This document provides information about using the Fluent application within Workbench.
A brief description of what is in each chapter follows:
• Getting Started With Fluent in Workbench (p. 15), describes an overview of Fluent within Workbench.
• Working With Fluent in Workbench (p. 43), describes the details of using Fluent within Workbench.
• Appendix A: The Fluent Ribbon Tab Under Workbench(p. 113), describes the differences in the Fluent
File ribbon tab within Workbench.
• Appendix B: The Fluent Meshing Menu under Workbench(p. 119), describes the differences in the
Fluent Meshing File menu within Workbench.
• Appendix C: TheWorkbench Tools Toolbar Commands (p. 121), describes the Workbench Tools
toolbar that is available in Fluent when running within Workbench.
2.Typographical Conventions
Several typographical conventions are used in this manual’s text to help you find commands in the
user interface.
• Different type styles are used to indicate graphical user interface items and text interface items.
For example:
Iso-Surface dialog box
surface/iso-surface text command
• The text interface type style is also used when illustrating exactly what appears on the screen
to distinguish it from the narrative text. In this context, user inputs are typically shown in boldface.
For example,
solve/initialize/set-fmg-initialization
Customize your FMG initialization:
set the number of multigrid levels [5]
set FMG parameters on levels ..
residual reduction on level 1 is: [0.001]
number of cycles on level 1 is: [10] 100
residual reduction on level 2 is: [0.001]
number of cycles on level 2 is: [50] 100
xi

• Mini flow charts are used to guide you through the ribbon or the tree, leading you to a specific
option, dialog box, or task page. The following tables list the meaning of each symbol in the
mini flow charts.
Table 1: Mini Flow Chart Symbol Descriptions
Indicated Action
Symbol
Look at the ribbon
Look at the tree
Double-click to open task page
Select from task page
Right-click the preceding item
For example,
Domain → Mesh → Transform → Translate...
indicates selecting the Domain ribbon tab, clicking Transform (in the Mesh group box) and
selecting Translate..., as indicated in the figure below:
And
Setup → Models → Viscous Model → Realizable k-epsilon
indicates expanding the Setup and Models branches, right-clicking Viscous, and selecting
Realizable k-epsilon from the Model sub-menu, as shown in the following figure:
And
Setup → Boundary Conditions → velocity-inlet-5
indicates opening the task page as shown below:
xii
Using This Manual

In this manual, mini flow charts usually accompany a description of a dialog box or command,
or a screen illustration showing how to use the dialog box or command. They show you how to
quickly access a command or dialog box without having to search the surrounding material.
• In-text references to File ribbon tab selections can be indicated using a "/". For example
File/Write/Case... indicates clicking the File ribbon tab and selecting Case... from the Write
submenu (which opens the Select File dialog box).
xiii
Typographical Conventions

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perceiving that she covets a crown; while in the countenance of the queen,
we read indifference to it.
Upon frequent other occasions while in Madrid, I had proofs of the
anxiety of Don Carlos to recommend himself to the people. The most
marked of these, was upon the evening when the queen gave birth to a
princess: not an hour after this was known, the Infante drove through the
streets and along the Prado, in an open carriage, along with his three sons,
who, by the repeal of the Salic law, were that day cut out of their
inheritance.
The event to which I have alluded,—the accouchement of the queen—
was a matter of deep interest in Madrid; and before its accomplishment
there was the utmost anxiety among all ranks. Each party had its own
views. The moderate, or government party, and many belonging to the other
parties, who desired peace and tranquillity, anxiously looked to the birth of
a prince, as an event that would at once extinguish the claims of those who,
but for the repeal of the Salic law, would have had a right to the throne, in
case of the birth of a princess. The Carlists secretly wished that the event
might be precisely the opposite; and the liberal party, seeing some possible
advantage in whatever should tend to unsettle the existing government,
united their wishes with those of the Carlists: but, the great majority of the
respectable inhabitants, perceiving in the birth of a prince, a guarantee for
the tranquillity of the kingdom, and the security of property, devoutly
wished that such might be the event.
The anxiety that filled the public mind, was fully partaken by the
government; for it was well known to the heads of the state, that
conspiracies were on foot; and that, in the event of the birth of a princess,
the Carlists would have a pretext for an open manifestation of their views.
They, however, had resolved not to wait this event, but to anticipate it; and a
plot, which might possibly have proved successful, and which, at all events,
must have led to scenes of blood, perhaps to revolution, was fortunately
discovered on the day before that appointed for its execution; and the most
prompt measures were immediately taken for crushing it. On the fifth of
October, about midnight, carriages, accompanied by sufficient escorts, were
taken to the houses of Padre Cirilo, the chief of the Franciscan order of
friars; of Don Rufino Gonsalez; of Don Man. Herro, both Counsellors of
State, and of thirteen others; the conspirators were put into the carriages,
and driven off,—Cirilo to Seville; Rufino to La Mancha, and the others to

different places distant from the metropolis. The conspirators intended that
some of the heads should have repaired to the inner court of the palace
while the king was engaged in his evening drive; that about a thousand of
the royalist volunteers—who are for the most part Carlists—should
assemble at the palace yard; that the entrance to the palace should be taken
possession of; the king seized upon his return, and forced to change his
ministers, and to restore the Salic law. I feel little doubt, that if this plot had
not been discovered, it would have led to more than a change of ministers.
Among the military, and even among the guards, there are many
discontented men, who fancy they see in the elevation of Don Carlos, a
guarantee for a more impartial system of promotion; and the royalist
volunteers of Madrid, 6000 strong, and all provided with arms, and
accustomed to manœuvre them, are, with few exceptions of the lowest
classes, and chiefly Carlists.
I walked to the palace yard the evening when it was expected the event
would be known: it presented a dense mass of persons, chiefly of bourgeois
and of the middle classes, all waiting with anxiety the announcement of the
event, upon which the tranquillity of the country so greatly depended. At
length the white flag—the announcement of a princess—was slowly
hoisted. There was a universal and audible expression of disappointment:
“Que lastima! que lastima!” and the crowd slowly dispersed.
The repeal of the Salic law was not in itself an unpopular measure; and
had there been no claimants to the crown under the old law, or no party to
take advantage of disunion, and support these claims, it would have been a
matter of indifference to the people, whether the queen gave birth to a son
or a daughter: the repeal of the Salic law was only the revival of the ancient
law of Castile, and per se, gave no dissatisfaction. It was the peculiar
circumstances in which the country was placed, and the state of parties, that
rendered the birth of a prince or a princess a matter of importance: the event
created much disappointment to the government party, but no discontent: it
is well known that the Constitutionalists on the frontier had trusted to the
latter, and hoped to profit by it: but the effect was rather against than
favourable to that party; because the Carlists, seeing their own ultimate
chances increased, were therefore more interested in assisting government
to suppress the Constitutionalists, whose ascendancy would leave them no
hope.—But to return to the court.

There is nothing of court society at Madrid: the secluded habits of the
king and queen, I have spoken of already; and there is scarcely any visiting
among the courtiers. The persons of distinction in Madrid lead a most
monotonous life: one lady only, the Duchess of Benevente, opens her house
once a week,—this is on Sunday evening, and she receives, among others,
those of the foreign ministers who choose to visit her. Her parties, however,
are far from being agreeable: the Spaniards of distinction who frequent her
tertulia, generally withdraw when the foreign ministers are announced. This
disinclination on the part of the Spanish grandees, and others holding high
court preferment, to associate with the foreign ambassadors, is notorious in
Madrid. At the tertulia, of the wife of Don Manuel Gonsalez Salmon, the
foreign ministers used formerly to be present, but they discovered that they
were regarded in a light little different from that of spies; and they are now
never seen at these tertulias. In Madrid there are no ministerial, no
diplomatic dinners; and among the persons of most distinction,
entertainments are extremely rare. There is, in fact, nothing like gaiety
among the upper ranks in the Spanish metropolis. And yet, if you remark to
a Spanish lady that there is little society among the higher classes in
Madrid, she will express the utmost astonishment that you should have
imbibed so false a notion of Madrid and its society; but her idea of society
and yours differ widely. If a dozen houses are open, into which a Spanish
lady may go when she pleases, sit down on the sofa with her friend, fan
herself, and talk till she is tired; this she considers society,—and this is the
only form of society to be found among the highest classes in Madrid,—
gaiety there is none.
Previous to travelling into Spain, I had heard much of the difficulty, if
not impossibility, of obtaining access to Spanish society; and before I had
the means of judging for myself, I received frequent corroboration of this
opinion. One of his majesty’s consuls, whom I accidentally met in the
Pyrenees, and whose appointment lies in the largest city of Spain, next to
Madrid; a man too, who, both by his rank, for he is the nephew of a peer,
and by the affability of his manners, would be likely to be every where well
received, told me that I should probably leave Spain with no greater
knowledge of Spanish society than when I entered it; that it was more than
probable I should never see the inside of a Spanish house: and he concluded
by saying, that he had been four years in Spain, and actually did not know if
the Spaniards dined off a table cloth. This was rather disheartening: and

when I waited upon the British minister upon my arrival in Madrid, I
received from him no greater encouragement. He told me that Spanish
houses were closed against foreigners; and that, for his own part, he knew
nobody, and visited no where.
I am not able to reconcile these opinions, and the experience of others,
with my own; my advantages, considerable as they certainly were, could
not be compared with those of the accredited representatives of
government, who had resided many years in the country. It is a fact,
however, that I had not been many days in Madrid, before I had the entrée
of several Spanish houses, both in the higher and in the middle classes of
society: this good fortune I may partly attribute to my intimacy with an
attaché of the Spanish embassy in London, who, grateful for the attentions
he had received from my countrymen, repaid them in the manner most
acceptable to me,—namely, by making me acquainted with a numerous
circle of friends and relatives. His father, a member of the council of state,
may easily be supposed to have possessed the power of assisting the
inquiries of a traveller; and to him, and to my young friend, now secretary
to one of the legations in Italy, I have to return my best thanks for a hundred
civilities.
It is the habits of the middle classes, that best interpret the condition and
character of a people; and to these I mean at present to confine myself. I
shall begin by giving the reader some idea of the interior of a Spanish
house; but let me premise, that the houses in the different cities of Spain,
bear scarcely any resemblance to each other: the houses of Madrid differ in
almost every thing from those of Seville,—which, again, are in many
respects different from the houses in Malaga and Valencia. These
distinctions are sufficient to excuse a detail so apparently trifling, as the
description of a house; because they arise from a distinction in the manners
and habits of the people inhabiting the different provinces of Spain.
In Madrid, the whole of the middle classes, and, indeed, all excepting the
very highest ranks, live in stories, or flats, as they are called in Scotland,—
each story being a distinct house. The outer door of every house in Madrid
is of an enormous strength, more like the door of a prison, or of a convent,
than of a private dwelling house; and in the centre, there is a small window,
about six inches long by two broad, grated with iron, and with a sliding
shutter. When one rings at the door of a Spanish house, the answer to the
bell is a voice, which calls out “Quien es?”—who is it? or who comes? and

the person wishing to be admitted, must answer “Gente de paz,”—literally,
People peace. But this assertion does not content the person within, who
then shoves aside the shutter and peeps through; and the usual colloquy is
carried on through the grating, before the door be thrown open, unless the
person without, be known to the servant within. One cannot help
endeavouring to account for the origin of so singular a custom; and perhaps
the truest guess that can be made, is, to refer it to the suspicion, and feeling
of personal insecurity, which are the offspring of bad government, of
political persecution, and religious inquisition. The window shutters of the
houses are as massive as the doors; and the glass of the windows is
purposely so bad, that it is impossible to see into a house from the opposite
side of a street: three panes, however, are always of good glass, so that one
may be able to see out.
The house which I select for a description of its interior, as a fair sample
of the dwelling-houses of the middle classes in Madrid, belonged to a
gentleman holding a government appointment of 50,000 reals (500l.) per
annum; which may be equal to about 700l. a-year in London: and, with very
few variations, this house may be taken as an average specimen of the
houses of professional men, employées, and independent persons, of from
500l. to 1,000l. per annum. The principal room, answering to the English
drawing-room, is large, and well-lighted; a handsome straw matting,
worked in a pattern of coloured flowers, and which looks quite as pretty as
a carpet, entirely covers the floor, which is generally of brick. There is no
fire-place in the room; the walls and roof are both what is called stained,
and this is as well executed as I have ever seen it in England; and the
furniture of the room consists of a large mahogany sofa, with hair cushion,
covered with flowered black satin; mahogany chairs, with green and straw-
coloured basket-seats; four small mahogany tables, of good material, and
prettily carved, and a large round table in the centre of the room—just an
English loo-table—upon which stands a handsome service of china; a
mirror, and two marble slabs between the windows, and a few pictures—
copies from Spanish masters,—complete the furniture: but let me not omit
five or six low stools, scattered here and there; for every lady has her
footstool.
At one end of this room, opening from the side, is a recess, twelve or
thirteen feet square, and not concealed by any curtain. This is a bed-room,
—a bed-room too in constant use. The bedstead is of steel or brass wire; the

bed is covered with a counterpane, trimmed with broad lace; the furniture is
all of mahogany, and the wash-hand basin and ewer are of brass.
A wide archway opening at the other end of the drawing-room, leads to
an ante-room, covered with the same matting as the drawing-room, and
furnished with a couch, chairs, and footstools, covered with blue satin. At
the side of this ante-room is another recess, open like the other, containing
two beds, between them a small marble slab, with a vessel of holy-water,
and at the head of each a small image of Christ in ivory. This is the
matrimonial chamber. The rest of the house consists of a long, tortuous, and
rather dark passage, from which the other rooms enter: these are, a small
parlour, or study, always poorly fitted up; a boudoir, with a low couch
covered with black satin, a couple of footstools, a table, and very handsome
looking-glass; this important room is either matted, or floored with Valencia
tiles; and the walls are generally covered with a French paper, and adorned
or disfigured as the case may happen, with a few pictures, religious, or of an
opposite character, or both, according to the taste of the señora.
The worst room in almost every Spanish house, is the dining-room, or
rather eating-room, for every meal is taken in the same room: the floor has
generally no matting,—the walls are unadorned,—the furniture is of the
commonest description,—and the room itself so small, that the table, which
nearly fills the room, is rarely large enough for more than six persons. This
at once lets a stranger into an important secret in the economy of Madrid
society; that there is no probability of receiving an invitation to dinner. I say
Madrid society, because in the southern provinces, the dining-room and its
uses are different. But although a stranger must not expect many invitations
to dinner in Madrid, yet, if he be once received into a family upon a familiar
footing, and should pay a visit while the family are at dinner, or just sitting
down to dinner, he will not be denied admittance, but will be requested to
walk into the eating-room, and a chair will be immediately placed for him
at table. This civility, however, must be accepted with discretion; because
the civil speech, which is invariably addressed to a stranger, when he
concludes his first visit,—Esta casa es a la disposition de Vd.
,—“This house
is at your disposal,”—is a form of words not to be always interpreted
literally. I have omitted to mention the Spanish kitchen, which is provided
with a stone table, in which there are six or eight circular holes for charcoal,
and numerous earthen vessels to fit these holes. Generally speaking,
respectable Spanish houses, whether in Madrid, Seville, or Valencia, are

scrupulously clean. I have never in any country, seen kitchens and bed-
rooms so clean as they are in Spain. The description I have given may serve
to convey to the reader a tolerably accurate idea of the houses of Madrid:
some may contain a greater number of apartments, and others fewer; and
some may be a little better, others a little worse furnished; but in the
material points, they are all the same; they have all an elegant drawing-
room, bed-rooms in recesses, a wretched dining-room, and a luxuriously
fitted-up boudoir.
In a former chapter, I spoke of the manner of living among the middle
classes in the northern provinces. In Madrid, and generally in Castile, there
is somewhat more luxury in the table, though the Spaniards as a nation, may
justly be characterized as abstemious, and little addicted to the pleasures of
the table. The olla or puchero, is not the sole dish that graces the tables of
the middle and upper classes in Madrid: there is generally a stew of some
kind added, and dinner is always followed by cakes, sweetmeats, and fruit;
but this is after all but an indifferent dinner for one with an income of 700l.
or 800l. a-year. And there are still very many in Madrid, even in the upper
ranks, who are contented with the puchero; and I was myself acquainted
with one or two families in good circumstances, who yet lived in a way
which we should call piggishly in England, sending to the cook-shop for a
puchero, and to the wine-shop, for the daily portion required at dinner.
The inhabitants of Madrid, excepting the trades people, rise late, and
breakfast between ten and eleven, upon a cup of chocolate, with scarcely
any bread, and a glass of cold water. Going to mass, dressing, paying and
receiving visits, and walking the streets, occupy the ladies till the dinner
hour; and this, following the example of the court, and in order that it may
not interfere with the claims of the Prado, is early, even among the highest
ranks. Then follows the siesta; and the interval between the siesta and
dressing for the Prado, is usually passed upon the balcony. After the Prado,
is the tertulia, which may be said to be the only form of Spanish society.
When you have the entrée of a house in Madrid, and pay your visit in the
evening, you find the family assembled near the windows, with two or three
strangers, chatting and laughing; the ladies of the house without mantillas,
and the visitors generally wearing them. The young ladies, or señoritas, are
in one part of the room, with one or two caballeros; and the Senora de Casa
in another, probably conversing with a priest or friar; unless she be young,
in which case there is no division in the society. The room is usually badly

lighted, most commonly with a semi-luna at the farthest corner,—and the
master of the house is rarely one of the party. He is a member of another
tertulia. The conversation is always lively, and somewhat piquante, and the
visitors stay late, and are not presented with any refreshment.
If the visit be made in the morning, the lady, if not walking the streets, or
gossiping, is found in her boudoir, seated upon a low couch, in a black silk
dress; her feet upon a footstool; and beside her, a large basket, such as
Murillo has so often painted. She is always engaged in some kind of
embroidery,—and her fan, which she resumes the moment you enter, lies on
the table before her.
The only kind of party to which a stranger is invited in Madrid, is a ball;
but there is no necessity for an invitation, if one has the entrée of the house.
At these parties, the ladies are rarely dressed in the Spanish fashion, but
generally à la Française, with white or coloured dresses,—the only
distinguishing, and never to be mistaken mark of a Spanish woman, being
the fan. The Spanish ladies invariably dance well; and yet their mode of
dancing is as opposite as possible from the French style: it is the
management of the head and shoulders; and the manner, not the power of
motion in the limbs, that distinguish the Spanish woman. There is another
remarkable difference between the Spanish, and the French or English
dance: the gravity of countenance,—and generally, the silence that prevails
among quadrillers, both in France and England, is remarkable, and even
ludicrous; but the Spanish ladies talk and laugh while they dance,—seeing
no reason why one pleasure should suspend another. At these parties there is
rarely any refreshment offered; a glass of water may be had, but nothing
more.
Are the Spaniards a hospitable people?—This is a question that cannot
be answered by a simple monosyllable: it seems difficult to separate
hospitality from generosity; and yet this distinction must be made in
speaking of the conduct of Spaniards towards strangers. A Spaniard
considers himself to be remarkable for his hospitality, because he is at all
times happy to see a stranger within his doors: he says, speaking to an
Englishman, “in your country you invite a foreigner to your house, and
there the civility ends; he cannot return without another invitation. But here,
if a stranger be once received within our houses, they are ever afterwards at
his disposal; he needs no farther invitation.” This is true enough, but it
scarcely amounts to hospitality. This word, from the days of Abraham, who

fed the angels, has signified setting meat before one; but a stranger might
live years in a Spanish city, and be on terms of intimacy with many wealthy
Spaniards, and might yet never break bread within a Spanish house,—
certainly never by invitation. I speak at present of Madrid, and the cities of
the interior. In Cadiz, Malaga, Valencia, and Barcellona, dinner parties are
occasionally given. But, with this seeming want of hospitality towards
strangers, there is much, and very uncalled-for generosity. Wherever a
stranger goes in company with a Spaniard,—if to a coffee-house, to the
theatre, to a bull-fight,—even to shops where fancy articles are sold, the
Spaniard insists upon paying: any remonstrance offends him; nor will he
ever, at any after time, permit you to repay the obligation in a similar way.
He is at all times ready with his purse; and draws its strings with the alacrity
of a man who is eager to give away his money. It is difficult to refer to any
common principle, the different ways in which a Spaniard and an
Englishman shew kindness to a stranger. The Spaniard lays out his money
upon him cheerfully; but gives him nothing to eat: the Englishman, on the
other hand, would dislike paying a crown for a foreigner, but would ask him
to dinner again and again, and thus lay out ten times its amount.
I fear this apparent disregard of money, may have some connexion with
that great and unfortunate failing in the character of the middle classes in
Spain, particularly in Castile—love of display, or ostentation. This failing
belongs to the middle and upper classes in an extraordinary degree; while
inconsiderateness, and carelessness of to-morrow, are conspicuous in the
characters both of the middle and lower classes. Almost every one in Spain
lives up to his income. Even the employées, who hold their posts by a very
uncertain tenure, seldom lay by any thing; they generally die pennyless: and
it is a certain fact, that the families of employées who have died beggars,
have swelled the Spanish pension list to a most formidable length. A
Spaniard will dine without a table-cloth, to save the expense of washing;
but this, not that he may lay by his money,—but that he may have the eclât,
not the pleasure, of frequenting the opera; the pride, not the gratification, of
eating ice in the Café Catalina. I have known some extraordinary instances
of this love of display: a Spanish officer, with whom we had some
acquaintance, invited us to accompany him and his wife to the Prado. A
handsome carriage drove up to the door, attended by two servants in gay
liveries: will it be believed, that the carriage and servants were hired for the
occasion; and that this officer was married, had a family, and possessed

only his pay, amounting to about 140l. a-year? What sacrifices must have
been made for the indulgence of this piece of vanity! I knew the family of a
judge, consisting of a widow, and four daughters, all of whom appeared
every Sunday on the Prado with new satin shoes and clean white gloves: the
pension of a judge’s widow is 8000 reals, (80l. sterling). There is nothing
remarkable in these instances; and the same love of display is visible among
the lower orders in Madrid, as far as this can be shewn in their rank of life.
Persons in very humble circumstances are seen in most expensive dresses;
and it is not at all unusual to meet a female servant with a comb, fan, and
mantilla, whose united expense would amount to 4l. or 5l.
In the upper and middle classes of society in Madrid, morals are at the
lowest ebb: though veils are almost thrown aside, and serenades are rare,
Spain is still the country of gallantry and intrigue. Want of education among
the women, and the absence of moral and religious principle among the
men, are the fruitful sources of this universal demoralization. In the
education of a Spanish woman, all has reference to display; knowledge
forms no part of it. The business of her life, is dress and show; and its
object, admiration: this leads to gallantry, and all its train of consequences.
It is impossible to walk into the street, or along the Prado, without
perceiving even among children, that the rudiments of Spanish indiscretion
are already laid. Little girls of the tenderest age shew by their gait and
manner, that they are already initiated in the business of life. I have heard
others, scarcely escaped from childhood, talk in a manner that would have
made an English married woman blush,—and, to gather something even
from infancy, I have heard a child five or six years old, ask its companion,
how it could disregard appearance so much as to venture out without a
proper ceinture.
In married life, I have reason to think that infidelity is more universal
than in Italy; but the origin of it is different, and the thing is differently
managed in the two countries. It is a great error to imagine—as some old
writers upon Spain, and accurate writers in other respects, have asserted—
that there is any connivance in Spain on the part of the husband: Spanish
husbands, with few exceptions, are too proud to bargain for their own
dishonour. While I was in Madrid, two instances occurred, in which
husbands murdered their wives in fits of jealousy: in neither of these cases
was the thing sifted to the bottom; because it was known that in doing this
the villany of two priests would have been brought to light. The Cortejo of

Spain is by no means the Cisesbeo of Italy. The liaison in Spain is a secret
one; it has not originated in interest or vanity, but in passion; and the
greatest pains are taken to conceal it from the husband, and even (intimates
excepted) from the world. There are not in Madrid the same opportunities
for the formation and prosecution of intrigue, as in Seville and the cities of
the south. In these, the gardens and summer houses,—the walls of both
forming a part of the street,—are particularly favourable to the serenade, the
billet-doux, and their recompense. In Madrid, opportunities are more
precarious: the mass, the street, the balcony, are the only places of
rendezvous; and of these, the latter is the most prized. Walking the streets,
while all the world enjoys the siesta, wakeful señoras and señoritas are here
and there seen behind the curtains that fall over the balconies, and which
are supposed to shade the light from the eyes of the sleeper; and now and
then some medium of intelligence is seen fluttering downward, to be picked
up by a cloaked cabalero. There is another important difference between the
gallantries of Spain, and of Italy or France: in Spain, they are not confined
to married women: improper liaisons are not unfrequently formed by
unmarried ladies; and those whom one sees on the balconies, are much
more frequently señoritas than señoras.
Intrigue is not confined in Madrid to the upper, or even the middle
classes of society; but is found also among the trades people. Sometimes
during the hours of sleep and silence, I have ventured, in passing along the
street, to draw aside the curtain that is meant to secure an uninterrupted
siesta to the inmates of the embroiderers, perfumers, or dress-makers’
shops; and I have more than once interrupted a tête-à-tête. It is fair to add,
however, that I oftener found the señorita fast asleep. It is well understood
in Madrid, that during the time of siesta, no one enters a shop where a
curtain is drawn; but a stranger may sometimes do unpermitted things,
under pretence of ignorance.
The lower orders in Madrid cannot be characterized as grossly immoral:
they are not drunken and brutal, like the mob of London; nor ferocious and
insolent, like the canaille of Paris. In walking the streets of Madrid, it is
rarely that one sees either quarrelling or gambling; and I believe it might be
possible to walk through any part of the city with the corner of a
handkerchief hanging out of the pocket, and to return with it in its place:
petty larceny, a Castilian thinks beneath him. Between the character of the
Castilian and the Andalusian, there is as marked a distinction as that which

exists in the characters of any two people inhabiting different kingdoms; but
I will not anticipate.
I suspect that among the upper and middle ranks in Madrid, religion is as
low as morals: among them, priestcraft exercises very little influence; and,
indeed, ridicule and dislike of all orders of religion, form a very common
seasoning to conversation. There can be no doubt that the occupation of the
Peninsula by the French army, has gone far towards diminishing the respect
in which the priesthood was formerly held by the great majority of all
classes in Spain. In Madrid, I have never heard one individual above the
rank of a small tradesman, speak with respect, of religion,—or with
affection, of the priesthood. There cannot be the smallest doubt that, in the
capital at least, both the clergy and the friars are sensible of a great
diminution in the power which they formerly enjoyed; and their tone and
bearing are altered accordingly. At present, they, at all events the regular
clergy, yield a little to the tide that has set in against them. I have been
surprised to hear the freedom with which some of the priests have spoken of
the state of Spain. I have heard them particularly lament the difficulties that
stand in the way of publishing books, and admit the oppressive nature of the
enactments that regard education. The clergy have not the same interest as
the friars, in supporting the present system, because they have not the same
fears. A revolution that might possibly chase every monk from the soil, and
which would, at all events, despoil them of their possessions and terminate
their dominion, would probably but slightly affect the clergy of the church;
and I have observed that since the French revolution, their fears have
diminished. The example of France, in the respect it has shewn for the
rights of the church, they look upon as a guarantee of their own security;
and perhaps justly. Government still seeks for support in the influence of
the church, and endeavours, by every means, to keep up this influence.
This, it may easily be supposed, is attempted through the medium of
education, which, throughout Spain, may be said to be a government
concern. The schools in Madrid are all conducted by Jesuits; and the
education received in them, is such as might be expected from their heads.
This surveillance commenced when the king returned to the head of the
government, in 1824. The colleges were then remodelled; and all the public
seminaries, even those destined for military education, were placed under
Jesuit heads. I have frequently met in the streets of Madrid, long lines of
students of the Colegio Imperial, and of the Semmario de Nobles, some in

military uniform, and each company headed by a priest. And no choice is
left to the people, as to the education of their children: the only choice is,
the government school, or no school; for obstacles, almost insurmountable,
are thrown in the way of private tuition. Before a family dare employ a
tutor, the permission of government must be obtained; and the tutor must
provide himself with a license: this implies minute inquiries into character,
political and religious opinions, &c.; so that, in fact, no tutor is ever
licensed, unless there is a perfect security that the system of education to be
pursued by him,—intellectual, political, and religious,—shall be precisely
the same as that taught in the public seminaries: there is nothing therefore
gained by private tuition. Whether the priesthood may possibly regain any
part of its lost influence, owing to the present system of education, may
admit of a question. If Spain should remain in its present condition, without
revolution or change, it is probable that the growth of liberal opinions may
be retarded; the thousands now educated on jesuitical principles, and denied
the means of real knowledge, were not old enough during the existence of
the constitution, to have caught a glimpse of the light which at that time
dawned upon the darkness of Spain; nor have they had opportunities of
being influenced by French principles, during the time of the occupation of
the Peninsula. The policy of the Spanish government, therefore, with
respect to its surveillance of education, is not unworthy of a government
that desires to maintain itself by the blindness of the people.
The influence of the friars is much greater than that of the priests; though
this also diminishes daily. I speak of Madrid only. In many of the other
cities of Spain, of which I shall afterwards speak more in detail—
particularly in Toledo, Seville, Granada, Lorca, and Murcia, and in most of
the smaller towns, I think it almost impossible that the influence of the
friars could ever have been much greater than it is. In Madrid, less attention
is paid to religious ceremonials and processions, than in any other city of
Spain: and one sees fewer external proofs of the veneration of the people
for the character of friar. A Franciscan may pass from one end of Madrid to
the other, without having one claim made upon his paternal blessing by a
grown-up person. I have seen the Virgin of St. Rosalio, and an image of St.
Thomas, carried through the streets, with some hundreds of friars
accompanying them, without any one being excited to a greater act of
devotion than raising the hat from the head: and during my morning walk,
when I invariably looked into the churches belonging to whichever of the

convents that happened to lie in my way, I seldom saw more than half a
dozen persons at their devotions. All this is very different at Toledo and
Seville; and judging by the difference I have observed in the proofs of
bigotry apparent in the different Spanish cities, I feel myself justified in
believing that the influence of the friars, as well as that of the priests, has
sensibly diminished in Madrid. But it is far from being small: it still exists,
with less or more force, among all ranks: and the breast of a friar is still the
favourite depository of family secrets. From my house, I could see the
regular visits made by friars to several houses within the range of my
window; and little children may at all times be seen in the street, running
after the monk of any order, to kiss his hand and beg his blessing.
There are many reasons why the influence of the friars should decline
more slowly than that of the priesthood: as the first of these may be
mentioned, the greater immorality of the lives of the latter. This immorality
is notorious throughout Spain; and, indeed, they take little pains to conceal,
—I will not say their pecadillos,—but the opportunities and temptations to
commit them, which they create for themselves; and they obtain full credit
for yielding to these temptations. Perhaps it is doing wrong to the clergy to
assign to the friars greater purity of life than to them; but whatever may be
the immoralities of the monks, they have more the art, and they possess
better opportunities too of concealing them. Priests live in the world, and
have worse opportunities of concealment than other men, because their
profession lays them open to scrutiny; but friars live in a world of their
own, fenced round, not only by walls of stone, but by a more impenetrable
wall of prescriptive veneration,—and they are very daring eyes that pry into
the secrets of the cloister. But strange, and even dreadful events,
occasionally occur, to lay open the hidden scenes that are transacted within
a convent’s walls. One such occurred last September, while I was in
Madrid. One morning, the Superior of the monastery of San Basilio was
found in bed murdered,—his throat cut, his hands tied, and several stabs in
his body. There could be no doubt that the murder had been committed by
the friars; and as no pretence could be found against instituting an inquiry, a
commission was accordingly appointed to investigate, and sat during
several days. Strange disclosures were made: it appeared that the superior
had been a good man, and remarkably strict in the observances enjoined
upon the order,—too much so for the inclination of the friars, who had been
accustomed to commit every kind of excess, and to transgress in the most

essential points, the rules of the convent; particularly in being absent during
the night. The superior used to reprove this laxity, and exerted his authority
to restrain it; and dislike towards him was naturally produced. In these
circumstances, no doubt, rested in the mind of any one, that the murder was
committed by the monks; but it had been resolved, that in some way or
other the affair should be got rid of. The porter of the convent, who,
previous to the appointment of the commission, had declared that no one
had entered, so qualified his words before the commissioners, that through
his evidence, they found a loop-hole by which justice might ooze out:—he
said, that he had some recollection, when half asleep, of having seen a
person enter; but besides the impossibility of any one entering, unless the
porter had been so much awake as to open the gate, the murder could not
have been committed by one person. The result was, that the commission
broke up without coming to any decision; but as a sacrifice to public
opinion, three of the friars were committed to prison on suspicion. It was
well understood that the affair would never go further; and I was assured by
the wife of a person holding a high official employment, that in a few
months the imprisoned monks would be found again in their convent. When
the king returned to Spain in 1823, he hanged a friar for a murder; but this
was done at that particular juncture to please the Constitutionalists; and
while the investigation I have mentioned was proceeding, every one knew
that his majesty dared not venture upon a repetition of this.
A few years ago, a curious exposé was made at Cadiz, which, as I am
upon the subject of friars, I shall mention in this place. There was, and still
is, a banker named Gargallo, one of the richest men in Cadiz, whose
magnificent dwelling-house is separated from the wall of the Franciscan
monastery only by one small house; and this house also belonged to Sr.
Gargallo, although it was not inhabited. The master of the house, who
though a rich man, looked closely into his affairs, perceived that his cook’s
bill greatly exceeded the sum necessary for the subsistence of the family;
and after bearing this during a considerable time, he at length discharged his
cook. The cook applied for service elsewhere; and upon his new master
applying to Gargallo for a character, he refused to give one, alleging as a
reason, the dishonesty of his servant: the cook enraged at this injustice, and
more solicitous to preserve his own good character than that of the friars,
returned to Gargallo’s house, taking witnesses along with him; and aloud in
the court-yard told this story: that every day he had carried a hot dinner into

the house adjoining, where Gargallo’s wife and daughter entertained a
select party of Franciscan friars; and what was worse still, his late master’s
money had been expended in the support of three children and a nurse, who
all lived in the adjoining house. The truth of this story was easily put to the
test; the three children and a nurse were found in the house, and the whole
affair was brought to light. The especial favour of the ladies was reserved
for only two of the friars: the very reverend father Antonio Sanches de la
Camissa, Sacristan Mayor, was the favourite of the wife; and another,
whose name I forget, but who was next in rank to the prior, and had
formerly been confessor in Gargallo’s house, was the selection of his
daughter. These had the entrée of Gargallo’s house at all hours; and in order
to keep quiet a few others, who were supposed to be in the secret, a savoury
dinner was provided every day for the self-denying Franciscans. Gargallo
married his daughter to an old apothecary, at Chiclana, where she now lives
a widow; and he confined his wife during two years in an upper room in his
own house; but she now lives again with her husband. At the first disclosure
of the affair, he wished to send both offenders to the Penitentiary; but the
captain-general of the province interfered, to prevent so much publicity in
an affair compromising the character of the Franciscans. No notice
whatever of this disgraceful transaction was taken in the convent. Both
reverend fathers continued to bear the character of good Franciscans; and
doubtless returned for a time, to the austerities of the order,—and when I
was in Cadiz, one of them every day accompanied Manuel Munoz, the
superior, and Cerillo, who had been banished to Seville, in an evening walk.
But these immoralities of the friars, although some such are occasionally
brought to light, and although much that exists is hidden, are yet far more
rare than the immoralities of the priests; and, it is without doubt, the greater
immorality of the clergy, and the greater belief in that immorality, that are
the primary reasons why the influence of the friars diminishes more slowly
than that of the priesthood.
Several other reasons might be given, why the influence of the friars
maintains itself better than that of the clergy, in the minds of the people,—
especially the lower orders: one may be stated to be, the known austerities
practised by some of the orders, particularly by the Franciscans, the
Capuchins, and the Carthusians; another, the greater alms given by the
convents than by the church; another, the mystery that involves the lives
and habits of the friars,—for mystery recommends any thing to the

ignorant; and a fourth, which addresses itself to all classes, is, the direct tax
which the support of the clergy imposes. The friars, whether poor or not,
have the semblance of poverty; at all events, the sources of their revenues
are not seen to flow into their treasury; and, although the nation at large
groans under the weight, individuals feel no part of it. Such are a few of the
causes which, in my opinion, operate in supporting the influence of the
friars; and in diminishing that of the clergy.
Comparatively with the rest of Spain, there is little attention paid to the
ceremonials of religion in Madrid. I often strolled into the churches at all
hours; and, excepting at time of mass, few were to be seen at prayer. One
morning I walked into the collegiate church of St. Isodro, and found the
pulpit occupied by a priest, who was exclaiming, apparently extempore, and
with great vehemence, against the sin of religious infidelity. St. Isodro is the
principal church of Madrid, and yet I do not believe there were 300 listeners
to the discourse; and of these at least five-sixths were women. It is a curious
spectacle to see the women all sitting upon the ground à la Turque, on little
round mats, and every fan in quick motion. The entrance of a stranger into a
church during mass, always creates a sensation: a hundred eyes may at any
time be withdrawn from the contemplation of either a preacher or an image,
by the slightest possible cause.

CHAPTER V.
MADRID.
The Profession of a Nun; Reflections; Description of the Interior of a Convent; the
Monastic Life; Description of a Bull-Fight; Sketches of Spanish Character; a Horse Race.
No one ever visited a Roman Catholic country, without feeling some
curiosity upon the subject of nuns and convents, monks and monasteries;
and there is certainly no country in the world that affords so many
incitements to this curiosity, or so many facilities for gratifying it, as Spain.
Among all the ceremonies belonging to the church of Rome, none perhaps
possesses so much interest in the eyes of a stranger, as that which is
denominated “taking the veil;” chiefly, because it is the only one of them
all, that addresses the heart more than the eye. I had always felt great
curiosity to witness this extraordinary sacrifice of reason and nature, at the
altar of bigotry and ignorance; but I found the gratification of this curiosity
more difficult than I had imagined. Heretics are no welcome guests at such
times; and during the first month of my residence in Madrid, I made two
unsuccessful attempts to witness the ceremony of taking the veil! It
fortunately happened, however, that the priest whom I had engaged at my
arrival in Madrid, to speak Spanish, and read Don Quixotte with me, and
with whom I passed much of my time, was the officiating priest in the
convent of Comendadoras de Calatrava; and as I had often expressed a
strong desire to see a profession, he came one day with the welcome
intelligence, that in that convent, a profession would take place on the
Sunday morning following; and as it was his duty to officiate on the
occasion, and to administer the sacrament to the new sister, he had it in his
power to gratify my wishes, and to admit me at an early hour: and he also
all but promised, that after the ceremony, I should be permitted to see the
interior of the convent—a privilege even greater than the other.
The chapel of the convent is separated from the apartments by a wide
iron grating—so wide, that every thing which takes place on the other side,
is seen as distinctly as if there was no separation whatever. I placed myself
close to this grating some little time before the ceremony commenced.

How many strange, wild, and romantic associations are connected with
“taking the veil!” The romances of our earlier days,—the tales, that
professed to reveal the mysteries of the cloister, crowd upon our memory:
we see standing before us the creatures of our imagination—the inflexible
lady abbess—the trembling nun—we hear the authoritative question, and
the timid reply—we see the midnight procession, and hear the anthem of
sweet and holy voices—and a crowd of mysterious and half-forgotten
dreams and visions float before us. Some of these early visions I had
learned to doubt the reality of,—I had already caught occasional glimpses
of those mysterious creatures who inhabit convent walls, without finding
any realization of my vision of charms more than mortal. I had learned to
know that nuns grow old, and that the veil does not always shadow
loveliness; but having understood that the victim about to sacrifice herself
was scarcely seventeen, I dismissed from my mind all the realities that
warred with my romantic illusions, and recurred to the dream of my earlier
days.
At the hour appointed, the abbess entered the room on the other side of
the grating, accompanied by all the nuns, and by several ladies, friends and
relatives of the novice. She entered a moment after; and immediately knelt
down, with her face towards the grating, so that I had a near and distinct
view of her. She was attired in the novice’s robe of pure white, and wore a
crown of flowers upon her head. She seemed scarcely more than sixteen.
Her countenance was gentle, sweet, and interesting;—there was an
expression of seriousness, but not of sadness, in her face; and a skin, fairer
than usually falls to the lot of Spanish women, was sensibly coloured with a
fine carnation,—the glow of youth, and health, and happiness, yet lingering
on her cheek; and connecting her with the world of light, and life, and
freedom, about to close upon her for ever.
The administrator now entered by the chapel, and placed himself in a
chair close to where I was stationed, and at the side of an opening in the
grating of about a foot square. The novice then rose, and walking forward to
the grating, presented him with a paper, which he read aloud: this was the
act of renunciation of all property, then and for ever; and during this
ceremony the novice retired and knelt as before, holding in her hand a long
lighted taper, with which the abbess presented her. The preparatory service
then commenced by reading and chanting; and this, although monotonous,
was pleasing and impressive, according well with the solemnity of the

scene that had introduced it; and in this service the novice joined, with a
clear sweet voice, in which nothing of emotion could be distinguished.
When this was concluded, the novice again rose, and advanced to the
grating, and pronounced slowly and distinctly the three vows that separate
her from the world,—chastity, poverty, and obedience. Her voice never
faltered; nor could I perceive the slightest change of countenance; the
colour only, seemed to be gradually forsaking her. The lady abbess, who
stood close by her side, wept all the while. Ah! if each tear could have told
why it flowed, what a history might have been unfolded. Indignation was
the feeling produced in my mind. I wished for the cannon of the
Constitutionalists, to throw down these most odious of prisons; and even to
the priest, who stood by me in his crimson and gilded surplice, I could not
restrain myself from saying, half audibly, “Que infamia!”
When the vows that could never be recalled had been pronounced by this
misguided child, she stepped back, and threw herself prostrate upon the
ground,—this is the act confirmatory of her vows,—symbolical of death,
and signifying that she is dead to the world. The service was then resumed,
—a bell continued slowly to toll; and the priest read; while the nuns who
stood around their new-made sister, responded,—“dead to the world—
separated from kindred—bride of heaven!” and the nun who lies prostrate is
supposed, at the same time, to repeat to God in secret, the vows she has
already pronounced aloud. When this was concluded, a slow organ peel,
and a solemn swell of voices rose, and died away; and the abbess then
raised the nun from the ground, and embraced her; and all the other nuns
and her relations also embraced her. I saw no tear upon any cheek,
excepting upon the cheek of the abbess, whose face was so full of benignity,
that it half reconciled me to the fate of the young initiated who had vowed
obedience to her. When she had embraced every one, she again knelt for a
few moments, and then approached the grating along with the abbess; and
the priest handed to the abbess through the opening, the vestments of a nun.
Then came the last act of the drama:—the crown was lifted from her head;
the black vestment was put on, and the girdle and the rosary; and the black
hood was drawn over her head;—she was now a nun, and she again
embraced the abbess and all the sisters. Still I could not discover a single
tear, excepting on the cheek of the abbess, who continued to weep almost
without ceasing to the very end: the countenance of the young nun
remained unmoved. The crown was again replaced upon her head, to be

worn all that day; the sacrament was administered, and one last embrace by
friends and relations terminated the scene.
I had thus seen what I had long felt so much anxiety to see,—“taking the
veil;” and I found it, at the same time, a stirring and a melancholy spectacle:
stirring, because it filled the mind with indignation against those whose
cruel and insidious counsel had misled an innocent girl; and melancholy,
because it pointed to a life uncheered by life’s sweetest charities,—unblest
by its holiest ties,—life without interest, without change, without hope; its
sources of enjoyment dried up; and its wells of affection frozen over.
It is not difficult to account for such sacrifices as this. A young person
enters a convent as a novice at fifteen or sixteen: this requires little
persuasion,—the scene is new, and therefore not without its attraction.
Mothers, sisters, and friends are occasionally seen; and no vow prevents a
return to the world. During the noviciate, she forms attachments among the
nuns, who exert themselves to the uttermost to please her. The attractions of
the world are not presented to her, and they are, therefore, not felt to be
attractions; and all the while, the priests and confessors have been labouring
to impress her with a notion of the excellence of a religious life,—its pure
enjoyment in this world, and its certain and great reward in another; and
these arguments are enforced by strictures upon the vexations and evils of
the world without, and the lack of enjoyment to be found in it. Such
reasoning cannot fail to produce its effect upon the mind of a young person
who has never known the world, and who is daily assured by the sisters in
the convent that they are happy: add to this, a certain eclât in taking the veil,
—extremely captivating to a youthful mind,—and it will scarcely seem
surprising, that when the noviciate expires, there should be nothing terrible,
or even very affecting in the ceremonial that fixes the destiny of the novice.
She feels that she is vowing a continuance of the same life that she has
already led, and for which habit may even have taught her an inclination;
and her days are to be spent with those whom she probably loves more than
any others without the convent walls. And what are the vows, to a child
who has entered a convent at fifteen? She vows obedience to one whom she
feels pleasure in obeying. She renounces property she never enjoyed, and
whose uses are not understood; and in vowing chastity, she knows only that
she is dedicating herself to heaven. The profession of a girl of sixteen or
seventeen, is an abomination; and admitted so to be, even by the priests. A
canon at Seville—nay, more, a Dominican friar near Alicante, agreed with

me in opinion, that no woman ought to be permitted to take the veil at an
earlier age than twenty-four. If a woman who has tried the world, and
knows its enjoyments and its dangers, chooses to renounce it, and retire into
a convent, she can only accuse herself of folly, or bigotry; but it is
altogether a piece of villany when a child leaves the nursery to begin her
noviciate.
The priest, who had led me to hope that I might be permitted to visit the
interior of the convent, did not disappoint me. This convent is one of the
most complete, and the best fitted up of any in Madrid. No one enters it
who cannot bring to its treasury a considerable fortune; and its
accommodations are accordingly upon a scale of corresponding comfort. In
company with the priest and the porteress, an old nun, I went over the
greater part of the building. The accommodations of each nun consist of a
small parlour and a dormitory adjoining, and a small kitchen. The nuns do
not eat in company. The dinners are separately cooked, and the whole is
then carried to a public room, where it is blessed; and again carried back to
the separate apartments, where each nun eats alone. The little parlours of
the nuns are plain and clean; the walls white-washed, and the floors
generally matted; but the room is without any fire-place, and contains a
table and two chairs. The beds are extremely small, and extremely hard; and
upon the table, in every dormitory, there is a crucifix. Among other parts, I
was conducted to the chamber of the new-made nun. The bed was strewn
with flowers—marigolds and dahlias,—and a crown of jilly-flowers lay
upon the pillow. Here every thing was new; yet all would grow old along
with the inmate. A new bright lamp stood upon the table; and as I looked at
it, I could not avoid the picture that presented itself in fancy,—the dull light
falling upon the white wall; and the silent inmate of the chamber with her
book and rosary, through the long chill evenings of winter;—what a
contrast from the picture of a cheerful home!
The rooms of the nuns all look into the garden. Those in front are
occupied by ladies who have not taken the veil, but who have retired from
the world, and who live there in tranquillity and seclusion. Many of these
rooms are prettily fitted up, and contain small libraries, altogether of
religious books, and a few pictures of the same character. In going through
the convent, I saw two of the nuns,—old, disagreeable, ill-favoured women,
—the younger sisters were not visible, excepting the new-made nun, who
seemed that day to be allowed the range of the convent; for I saw her, with

her crown still upon her head, in her own chamber, in one of the corridors,
and in the garden: she looked quite happy. After having been conducted
through almost every part of the convent, I was introduced into the
refectory, and presented with wine and cake. I shall never forget the taste of
that cake; it seemed to me, to taste of the tomb; and crumbled in one’s hand
like something touched by the finger of decay.
The order to which this convent belongs, is not so strict as many others.
The chief difference in strictness between one order and another, consists in
the more rigid observance of fasts, the number of meagre days, the
obligation to night prayers, and the rules as to solitude and society. In some
of the orders, dispensation from the vows of poverty and obedience may be
obtained; and such dispensations occasionally are obtained,—if, for
example, the labour or service of a nun should be required for the support or
comfort of a destitute or aged mother. Dispensation from the vow of
chastity is scarcely to be obtained; yet even this has sometimes been known.
Last year, a lady of high family who had taken the vows in Barcellona,
obtained a general dispensation, and married,—it is said that she was never
happy; and she died a few months afterwards. It may easily be supposed,
that long accustomed prejudices, and a superstitious bias, acting upon the
imagination, might produce disastrous effects both upon mind and body. In
the case of the late Countess Ofalia, a dispensation was also obtained. She
was five years a nun. She entered the convent at the age of fourteen; and the
dispensation was granted upon the ground of her youth, and also because
her consent was supposed to have been extorted. This lady had, fortunately,
less superstition than the other. She left the convent at nineteen; and married
the Count Ofalia, with whom she lived happily.
During the French government in Spain, under Joseph Buonaparte, and
also during the time of the constitution, the doors of the convents were open
to whosoever might choose to go again into the world: it is said, that not
more than two in Madrid, and four or five throughout the rest of Spain,
availed themselves of this privilege. This is scarcely to be wondered at;
superstitious fears, and conscientious scruples, interfered no doubt with the
wishes of many; others had grown grey within their convent walls, and to
whom could they return? Some, who might yet have found enjoyment in the
world, had no means of living in it, having renounced their inheritance; and
many, no doubt, had contracted a partiality for a religious life, and were
actuated by pious motives.

Next to the curiosity I had felt to witness the profession of a nun, was
my curiosity to witness an exhibition of a very different kind: the spectacle
of a bull-fight. This is one of the many things that are to be seen in Spain,
and in no other country in the world; and, however barbarous the spectacle
must seem to every one but a Spaniard, it is, nevertheless, one of so stirring
and so extraordinary a kind, that I think it would almost repay a journey to
Madrid, even if the traveller set off next morning upon his return.
The bull-fight is the national game of Spain; and the love of the
Spaniards for this spectacle, is almost beyond belief. Monday, in Madrid, is
always, during the season of the bull-fights, a kind of holiday; every body
looks forward to the enjoyments of the afternoon; and all the conversation
is about los toros. Frequency of repetition makes no difference to the true
amateur of the bull-fight; he is never weary of it; at all times he finds leisure
and money to dedicate to his favourite pastime. The spectacle is generally
announced, in the name of his majesty, to begin at four o’clock; and, before
three, all the avenues leading towards the gate of Alcala, are in commotion;
the Calle de Alcala, in particular, throughout its whole immense extent, is
filled with a dense crowd, of all ranks and conditions, pouring towards the
gate: a considerable number of carriages are also seen—even the royal
carriages; but these arrive later: and there are also many hack cabriolets,
their usual burden being a peasant, and two girls, dressed in their holiday
clothes; for there is no way of shewing gallantry so much approved among
the lower orders, as treating to a bull-fight; and when this is carried so far
as to include a drive in a red and gilded cabriolet, the peasant need sigh no
longer.
I had been able to secure a place in one of the best boxes, through the
kindness of one of my friends; and, some little time before the fight begun,
I was comfortably seated in the front row, with quite enough to occupy my
attention, until the commencement. The spectacle was most imposing. The
whole amphitheatre, said to contain 17,000 persons, was filled in every part,
round and round, and from the ground to the ceiling; carrying the
imagination back to antiquity, and to “the butcheries of a Roman holiday.”
The arena is about 230 feet in diameter; this is surrounded by a strong
wooden fence, about six feet in height, the upper half retiring about a foot,
so as to leave, in the middle of the fence, a stepping-place, by which the
men may be able, in time of danger, to throw themselves out of the arena.
Behind this fence, there is an open space about nine feet wide, extending all

the way round, meant as a retreat; and where also the men in reserve are in
waiting, in case their companions should be killed, or disabled. Behind this
space, is another higher and stronger fence bounding the amphitheatre, for
the spectators; from this fence the seats decline backward, rising to the
outer wall; and above these are the boxes, which are all roofed, and are, of
course, open in front. Those on the east side, which are exposed to the sun,
(for the spectacle always takes place in the evening), have awnings; but
these are insufficient to screen the spectators from the heat; and
accordingly, the price of the places on the west side, is considerably more
than the price of those exposed to the sun. Below, in what may be called the
pit, the difference in price, according to sun or shade, is still greater,
because there are there neither coverings nor awnings: so important, indeed,
is this distinction considered, that there is not only one price for places in
the sun, and another for places in the shade, but there is an intermediate
price for places partly in the sun and partly in the shade,—exposed to the
sun during the first part of the evening, but left in shade the latter part of it.
The best places in the boxes cost about 4s.; the best in the amphitheatre
below, about 2s. 6d.; the commonest place, next to the arena, costs four
reals. In the centre of the west side, is the king’s box; and scattered here and
there, are the private boxes of the grandees and amateurs, distinguished by
coloured silk drapery hanging over the front. In the boxes, I saw as many
women as men,—and in the lower parts, the female spectators were also
sufficiently numerous; all wore mantillas: and in the lower parts of the
amphitheatre which were exposed to the sun, every spectator, whether man
or woman, carried a large circular paper fan, made for the occasion, and
sold by men who walk round the arena before the fight begins, raising
among the spectators their long poles, with fans suspended, and a little bag
fixed here and there, into which the purchaser drops his four quartos (1¼d.).
The people now began to shew their impatience, and shouts of el toro
were heard in a hundred quarters; and soon after, a flourish of trumpets and
drums announced that the spectacle was about to commence. This created
total silence,—one of the results of intense interest,—and the motion of the
fans was for a moment suspended:—First entered the chief magistrate of the
city, on horseback, preceded by two alguacils, or constables, and followed
by a troop of cavalry, who immediately cleared the arena of every one who
had no business there; next, an official entered on foot, who read an
ordonnance of the king, commanding the fight, and requiring order to be

kept; and these preliminaries having been gone through, the magistrates and
cavalry retired, leaving the arena to the two picadores, who entered at the
same moment. These are mounted on horseback,—each holding a long
lance or pike, and are the first antagonists the bull has to encounter; they
stationed themselves on different sides of the arena, about twenty yards
from the door at which the bull enters; and at a new flourish of trumpets,
the gate flew open, and the bull rushed into the arena: this produced a
deafening shout, and then total silence. The bulls differ very widely in
courage and character: some are rash,—some cool and intrepid,—some
wary and cautious,—some cowardly. Some, immediately upon perceiving
the horse and his rider, rush upon them; others run bellowing round the
arena,—some make towards one or other of the Chulos, who at the same
moment that the bull appears, leap into the arena with coloured cloaks upon
their arms; others stop, after having advanced a little way into the arena,
look on every side, and seem uncertain what to do. The blood of the bull is
generally first spilt: he almost invariably makes the first attack, advancing
at a quick trot upon the picador, who generally receives him upon his pike,
wounding him somewhere about the shoulder. Sometimes the bull, feeling
himself wounded, retires, to meditate a different plan of attack; but a good
bull is not turned back by a wound,—he presses on upon his enemy, even if
in doing so, the lance be buried deeper in his flesh. Attached to the mane of
the bull is a crimson ribbon, which it is the great object of the picador to
seize, that he may present to his mistress this important trophy of his
prowess. I have frequently seen this ribbon torn off at the moment that the
bull closed upon the picador.
The first bull that entered the arena, was a bad bull: he was deficient
both in courage and cunning: the second, was a fierce bull of Navarre, from
which province the best bulls are understood to come; he paused only for a
moment after entering the arena, and then instantly rushed upon the nearest
picador, who wounded him in the neck; but the bull disregarding this, thrust
his head under the horse’s belly, and threw both him and his rider upon the
ground: the horse ran a little way; but encumbered with trappings, he fell,—
and the bull, disregarding for a moment the fallen picador, pursued the
horse, and pushing at him, broke the girths and disengaged the animal,
which finding itself at liberty, galloped round the arena—a dreadful
spectacle, covered with gore, and its entrails trailing upon the ground. The
bull now engaged the chulos: these young men shew great dexterity and

sometimes considerable courage, in the running fight, or rather play, in
which they engage the bull,—flapping their cloaks in his face,—running
zig-zag when pressed, and throwing down the garments to arrest his
progress a moment, and then vaulting over the fence,—an example which is
sometimes followed by the disappointed animal. But this kind of warfare,
the bull of Navarre seemed to consider child’s play,—and leaving these
cloaked antagonists, he made furiously at the other picador, dexterously
evading the lance, and burying his horns in the horse’s breast: the horse and
his rider extricated themselves, and galloped away; but suddenly the horse
dropped down, the wound having proved mortal. The bull, victorious over
both enemies, stood in the centre of the arena, ready to engage another; but
the spectators, anxious to see the prowess of the bull directed against
another set of antagonists, expressed their desire by a monotonous clapping
of hands, and beating of sticks, a demonstration of their will perfectly
understood, and always attended to.
The banderilleros then entered: their business is to throw darts into the
neck of the bull; and in order to do this, they are obliged to approach with
great caution, and to be ready for a precipitate retreat; because it sometimes
happens that the bull, irritated by the dart, disregards the cloak which the
banderillero throws down to cover his retreat, and closely pursues the
aggressor. I saw one banderillero so closely pursued, that he saved himself
only by leaping over the bull’s neck. The danger, however, is scarcely so
great as it appears to the spectator to be; because the bull makes the charge
with his eyes shut. The danger of the picador who is thrown upon the
ground, is much greater; because, having made the charge, the bull then
opens his eyes, and the life of the picador is only saved by the address of
the chulos, who divert the attention of the victor. Generally, the
banderilleros do not make their appearance until the bull appears by his
movements, to decline the combat with the picadors; which he shews by
scraping the ground with his feet, and retiring. If the bull shew little spirit,
and the spectators wish that he should be goaded into courage, the cry is
“fuego,” and then the banderilleros are armed with darts, containing a kind
of squib, which explodes while it sticks in the animal’s neck.
When the people are tired of the banderilleros, and wish to have a fresh
bull, they signify their impatience in the usual way, and the signal is then
given for the matador, whose duty it is to kill the bull. The matador is in
full court dress, and carries a scarlet cloak over his arm, and a sword in his

hand: the former he presents to the bull; and when the bull rushes forward,
he steps aside and plunges his sword in the animal’s neck; at least so he
ought to do, but the service is a dangerous one, and the matador is
frequently killed. Sometimes it is impossible for the matador to engage
upon equal terms a very wary bull, which is not much exhausted. This was
the case with the sixth bull which I saw turned out: it was an Andalusian
bull, and was both wary and powerful. Many times the matador attempted
to engage him, but without success; he was constantly upon the watch,
always disregarding the cloak, and turning quick round upon the matador,
who was frequently in imminent danger. At length the people were tired of
this lengthened combat, and seeing no prospect of it ending, called for the
semi-luna, an instrument with which a person skulks behind, and cuts the
ham-strings of the animal: this the bull avoided a long while, always turning
quickly round; and even after this cruel operation was performed, he was
still a dangerous antagonist, fighting upon his knees, and even pursuing the
matador. The moment the bull falls, he is struck with a small stiletto, which
pierces the cerebellum; folding doors, opposite to those by which the bull
enters, are thrown open, and three mules, richly caparisoned and adorned
with flags, gallop in; the dead bull is attached by a hook to a chain, and the
mules gallop out, trailing the bull behind them: this is the work of a
moment,—the doors close,—there is a new flourish of trumpets; and
another bull rushes upon the arena.
And how do the Spaniards conduct themselves during all these scenes?
—The intense interest which they feel in this game is visible throughout,
and often loudly expressed; an astounding shout always accompanies a
critical moment:—whether it be the bull or the man who is in danger, their
joy is excessive; but their greatest sympathy is given to the feats of the bull.
If the picador receives the bull gallantly, and forces him to retreat; or if the
matador courageously faces, and wounds the bull, they applaud these acts
of science and valour: but if the bull overthrow the horse and his rider; or if
the matador miss his aim, and the bull seems ready to gore him, their
delight knows no bounds. And it is certainly a fine spectacle to see the
thousands of spectators rise simultaneously, as they always do when the
interest is intense: the greatest and most crowded theatre in Europe presents
nothing half so imposing as this. But how barbarous, how brutal is the
whole exhibition! Could an English audience witness the scenes that are
repeated every week in Madrid?—a universal burst of “shame!” would

follow the spectacle of a horse, gored and bleeding, and actually treading
upon his own entrails, while he gallops round the arena: even the
appearance of the goaded bull could not be borne,—panting, covered with
wounds and blood, lacerated by darts, and yet brave and resolute to the end.
The spectacle continued two hours and a half; and during that time, there
were seven bulls killed, and six horses. When the last bull was dispatched,
the people immediately rushed into the arena, and the carcass was dragged
out amid the most deafening shouts.
The expenses of the bull-fights are great; but the receipts far exceed
them, leaving a very handsome sum for the benefit of the hospital, which, it
is said, draws a revenue from these entertainments of 300,000 reals, (3000l.
sterling). Some persons begin to affect a dislike of the bull-fight, but they
go to it notwithstanding; and I think I may venture to say, from my own
observation, that this national entertainment is not yet on the decline. The
king occasionally goes; Don Carlos rarely; but Don Francis and his wife are
generally to be seen there; and I noticed, that the private boxes of the
nobility were as well filled as any other part of the house. On leaving the
amphitheatre, I counted forty-five private carriages in waiting.
A few weeks afterwards, I was present at another bull-fight. I have no
intention of describing this also; but I gathered some information from it
that had escaped me upon the former occasion. This time, I paid more
attention to the demeanour of the people, than to the fight; and instead of
securing a place in the boxes, I took my seat in the commonest division,
that I might the better observe the character of the lower orders. It is not at
all unusual for those of the nobility who are amateurs of the bull-fight, to
place themselves among the lowest classes; a true lover of the bull-fight
likes to be under no restrictions, but to express his delight as loudly as a
peasant. In that place he is at his ease; he gives himself up to the full
enjoyment of his passion; he applauds, he condemns, and gives vent to his
joy like the people that surround him. This is true happiness to him. It is
said that Don Francis occasionally disguises himself; and enjoys, even
though Infante, the pleasure of a water-carrier.
At this fight, all the bulls were indifferent excepting one; but he proved
himself a perfect master of the science. He rushed first at one picador and
then at the other, and overthrew both the horses and their riders; killing both
horses, and wounding one of the picadores. Two fresh picadores

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