Statue of Cervantes 



About as much as I do about bonnet-ribbons, and ruches^ 

 and mother-of-pearl-handled parasols ! 



Now we will skip, if you please, to the north-east corner 

 of the city. Here is the famous Prado. Prado means 

 meadow ; and this pleasaunce is so called, because there is 

 not an inch square of grass. It is all boscage, cut into ten 

 thousand pieces by gravel- walks— making a pleasant laby- 

 rinth to wander and make love, — with stone seats. The 

 broad walk up the centre is lined by immense numbers of 

 the largish-sized kings, and princes, and queens, from Wamba 

 and his lady downwards. There are reservoirs of muddyish 

 water, and ducks and geese. 



Returning, we cross the Paseo^ a noble avenue, where, as 

 by the Serpentine, — 



Smooth-trundling fashion courts, in cushioned ease, 

 A dusty freshness from the evening breeze. 



On the other side, crowning the sHght rise of the fan- 

 shaped hoca-calle (street-mouth) of the Carrera San 

 Hieronymo, stands the statue of Cervantes, which, though 

 quite modern, is the thing which pleases me most m 

 Madrid ; not because it is particularly good, but because 

 the nation has attempted to do justice, at last, to her long- 

 neglected son. On the pedestal is graven " al principe 

 DE LOS iNGENios ESPANOLEs" (To the chief of Spanish 

 wits). I wish he could have seen it before he died. He 

 must often have walked over the place. Ford's excellent 

 joke, " To him whom his country refused bread while living, 

 they have at last given a stone," is unfortunately not exact. 

 The statue is a bronze. His country, by way of posthumous 

 charity, have presented him with a copper. 



310 



