Spain, v. 1 (of 2)

In Short

This travelogue captures a nineteenth-century journey through the Iberian Peninsula, moving from the industrial energy of Barcelona to the imperial weight of Madrid. With a sensibility caught between romantic wanderlust and profound homesickness, the narrative functions as both a guidebook and a psychological portrait of a traveler. It has endured as a classic of travel literature because of its vivid, painterly prose and its keen, affectionate observation of a people who carry their history—both glorious and tragic—in their everyday gestures, speech, and pride.

The Story

The narrative begins in Turin, where the narrator stands on the precipice of departure, paralyzed by an intense, almost crushing, longing for his mother and his quiet domestic life. His journey into Spain begins as an act of will against his own melancholy. Upon arriving in Barcelona, his initial gloom is replaced by the stimulation of new sights, though the specter of death—observed in the city’s unique, library-like cemetery—lingers in his reflections.

As he moves westward, the landscape shifts from the lush valleys of Catalonia to the rugged, heroic history of Arragon. Here, the narrator is swept up in the romantic mythos of the region, describing a people who once stood as equals to their own kings. Yet, even as he celebrates the spirit of the people, he remains prone to sudden bouts of profound loneliness, at one point nearly abandoning the trip to return home, only to be snapped back into a state of "frantic joy" by the prospect of seeing the fabled Castiles.

Reaching Valladolid, he finds a city in decay, its former grandeur reduced to a "great abandoned palace." His itinerary is marked by these contrasts: the physical beauty of cathedrals filled with masterpieces, the intellectual weight of historic sites like the Escurial, and the gritty, visceral reality of the bullring in Madrid. He observes the bullfights with a mix of horror and fascination, describing the slow, majestic agony of the animals and the intense, often volatile reactions of the crowd.

The journey culminates in an exploration of Madrid, a city he views as a "great monster" that consumes fortunes. He wanders its streets, listens to the voices of its night watchmen, and loses himself in the galleries, where the art of Velasquez and Murillo offers him a form of companionship. The book ends not with a final destination, but with a deep, contemplative analysis of the Spanish character. He finds a people characterized by an unshakeable, often defiant national pride that survives even their political and economic decline. He leaves the reader with the impression of a country where the past is a living presence, and where every citizen, from the shoeshiner to the aristocrat, views themselves as a guardian of a fading but immortal glory.

How It Unfolds

The Departure The narrator struggles with the physical and emotional act of leaving his home, fighting a visceral urge to turn back before he has even left the city limits. His journey is framed by this constant tension between the desire to explore and the ache of detachment.

The Spanish Landscape He navigates the transition from the bustling, rainy morning in Barcelona to the arid, historic plains of Arragon. He lingers over the geography, seeing it not just as land, but as a map of the nation's many wars and cultural shifts.

The Urban Portraits Moving through Burgos, Valladolid, and finally Madrid, he records the life of each city through its architecture, its market-day chatter, and its social atmosphere. He finds these cities to be living archives, where modern daily life is constantly interrupted by the shadows of kings and martyrs.

The Cultural Encounters From the somber, ritualistic atmosphere of the burial grounds to the frantic, bloody intensity of the bullring, he participates in the public rituals of Spain. He observes the people in their theaters, churches, and promenades, always looking for the thread that binds them to their history.

The Reflection on Character The narrative concludes with a synthesis of his experiences, focusing on the pervasive, "inoffensive" pride of the Spanish people. He posits that this pride is the essential, unifying element of their national identity, regardless of their current circumstances.

The People

The narrator is the central, grounding figure, a man of intense, shifting moods who finds himself both energized and exhausted by the act of travel. He is a keen observer, deeply sensitive to the art and history of the places he visits, yet he never hides his vulnerability; he is as interested in his own internal shifts as he is in the external world.

He encounters a host of supporting figures who represent the Spanish character: the "good Spaniard" on the train who encourages him to throw his money into the "monster" of Madrid; the night watchmen, or serenos, who act as the silent, knowing keepers of the city’s nocturnal secrets; and the anonymous peasants and students whose voices and gestures he studies to understand the soul of the country. He also engages with the historical figures—the artists like Murillo and the kings like Charles V—who inhabit the museums and tombs of the land. These figures are not mere names to him; they are living presences that "protect" him and lend him the luster of their own glory, helping him bridge the gap between his foreign identity and the intense local spirit of the people he meets.

In Its Own Voice

"When the world bent beneath the yoke of the tyrants the people of Arragon said to their king, through the mouth of their chief-justice, 'We, who are as great as thou, and more potent, have chosen thee for our lord and king on thy agreement to obey our commands and conserve our liberties; and not otherwise.'"

This passage reflects the narrator's deep respect for the democratic, rebellious spirit of the Arragonese people.

"There come moments to the gayest and most enamored traveller, as he walks the streets of a strange city, in which he is suddenly overwhelmed by such a strong feeling of utter weariness that if he were able by a word to fly back to his home and his dear ones with the rapidity of the genii of the 'Arabian Nights,' he would pronounce that word with a cry of joy."

This highlights the narrator's recurring, poignant struggle with loneliness and his longing for home.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an inquiry into the nature of national identity in the face of decline. The narrator is obsessed with how a people can maintain such profound pride when their political and imperial power has waned. He explores the question of whether a nation is defined by its past—the glory of its kings, the genius of its artists, and the blood spilled on its battlefields—or by its present, mundane realities. The book is an argument for the endurance of culture; it suggests that even as cities like Valladolid fall into ruin and empires fade, the character of the people, expressed through their language, their art, and their unique daily rituals, remains an unbreakable link to their historical significance.

Why Read It Today

This book is best suited for those who appreciate the slow, observational pleasure of nineteenth-century travel writing. You will love it if you enjoy prose that lingers on the details of a cathedral’s carving or the specific, musical cadence of a regional dialect. It feels like walking through a museum with an exceptionally articulate, if occasionally melancholy, companion who is prone to sudden bouts of philosophical reflection.

However, readers should be aware that the narrative reflects the attitudes and conventions of its time. The narrator’s observations are filtered through a nineteenth-century lens, and his tendency to generalize about "national character" or the "degeneracy" of certain behaviors may feel dated to a modern sensibility. The length and the deliberate, descriptive pacing demand patience; the book does not rush to a plot-driven conclusion, preferring instead to dwell in the atmosphere of the places it visits. If you can embrace its period perspective and its leisurely pace, you will be rewarded with a rich, sensory experience that captures the enduring, stubborn beauty of a country that refuses to let its past be forgotten. The way the narrator finds himself comforted by the "invisible friends" of Italian art while navigating a foreign land is something that stays with you long after the final page.