initial commit of ebook 27252HEADmain

11 files changed, 17069 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/27252-8.txt b/27252-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f39523f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27252-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,5692 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Land of The Blessed Virgin; Sketches
+and Impressions in Andalusia, by William Somerset Maugham
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Land of The Blessed Virgin; Sketches and Impressions in Andalusia
+
+Author: William Somerset Maugham
+
+Release Date: November 13, 2008 [EBook #27252]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IMPRESSIONS IN ANDALUSIA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE LAND OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN
+
+SKETCHES AND IMPRESSIONS IN ANDALUSIA
+
+BY
+
+WILLIAM SOMERSET MAUGHAM
+
+(WITH FRONTISPIECE)
+
+LONDON WILLIAM HEINEMANN
+
+MCMV
+
+_All rights reserved_
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+TO
+
+VIOLET HUNT
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+
+I. The Spirit of Andalusia
+
+II. The Churches of Ronda
+
+III. Ronda
+
+IV. The Swineherd
+
+V. Medinat Az-Zahra
+
+VI. The Mosque
+
+VII. The Court of Oranges
+
+VIII. Cordova
+
+IX. The Bridge of Calahorra
+
+X. Puerta del Puente
+
+XI. Seville
+
+XII. The Alcazar
+
+XIII. Calle de las Sierpes
+
+XIV. Characteristics
+
+XV. Don Juan Tenorio
+
+XVI. Women of Andalusia
+
+XVII. The Dance
+
+XVIII. A Feast Day
+
+XIX. The Giralda
+
+XX. The Cathedral of Seville
+
+XXI. The Hospital of Charity
+
+XXII. Gaol
+
+XXIII. Before the Bull-Fight
+
+XXIV. Corrida de Toros--I.
+
+XXV. Corrida de Toros--II
+
+XXVI. On Horseback
+
+XXVII. By the Road--I.
+
+XXVIII. By the Road--II.
+
+XXIX. Ecija
+
+XXX. Wind and Storm
+
+XXXI. Two Villages
+
+XXXII. Granada
+
+XXXIII. The Alhambra
+
+XXXIV. Boabdil the Unlucky
+
+XXXV. Los Pobres
+
+XXXVI. The Song
+
+XXXVII. Jerez
+
+XXXVIII. Cadiz
+
+XXXIX. El Genero Chico
+
+XL. Adios
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+[Sidenote: The Spirit of Andalusia]
+
+
+After one has left a country it is interesting to collect together the
+emotions it has given in an effort to define its particular character.
+And with Andalusia the attempt is especially fascinating, for it is a
+land of contrasts in which work upon one another, diversely, a hundred
+influences.
+
+In London now, as I write, the rain of an English April pours down; the
+sky is leaden and cold, the houses in front of me are almost terrible in
+their monotonous greyness, the slate roofs are shining with the wet. Now
+and again people pass: a woman of the slums in a dirty apron, her head
+wrapped in a grey shawl; two girls in waterproofs, trim and alert
+notwithstanding the inclement weather, one with a music-case under her
+arm. A train arrives at an underground station and a score of city folk
+cross my window, sheltered behind their umbrellas; and two or three
+groups of workmen, silently, smoking short pipes: they walk with a dull,
+heavy tramp, with the gait of strong men who are very tired. Still the
+rain pours down unceasing.
+
+And I think of Andalusia. My mind is suddenly ablaze with its sunshine,
+with its opulent colour, luminous and soft; I think of the cities, the
+white cities bathed in light; of the desolate wastes of sand, with their
+dwarf palms, the broom in flower. And in my ears I hear the twang of the
+guitar, the rhythmical clapping of hands and the castanets, as two girls
+dance in the sunlight on a holiday. I see the crowds going to the
+bull-fight, intensely living, many-coloured. And a thousand scents are
+wafted across my memory; I remember the cloudless nights, the silence of
+sleeping towns, and the silence of desert country; I remember old
+whitewashed taverns, and the perfumed wines of Malaga, of Jerez, and of
+Manzanilla. (The rain pours down without stay in oblique long lines, the
+light is quickly failing, the street is sad and very cheerless.) I feel
+on my shoulder the touch of dainty hands, of little hands with tapering
+fingers, and on my mouth the kisses of red lips, and I hear a joyous
+laugh. I remember the voice that bade me farewell that last night in
+Seville, and the gleam of dark eyes and dark hair at the foot of the
+stairs, as I looked back from the gate. '_Feliz viage, mi Inglesito._'
+
+It was not love I felt for you, Rosarito; I wish it had been; but now
+far away, in the rain, I fancy, (oh no, not that I am at last in love,)
+but perhaps that I am just faintly enamoured--of your recollection.
+
+* * *
+
+But these are all Spanish things, and more than half one's impressions
+of Andalusia are connected with the Moors. Not only did they make
+exquisite buildings, they moulded a whole people to their likeness; the
+Andalusian character is rich with Oriental traits; the houses, the mode
+of life, the very atmosphere is Moorish rather than Christian; to this
+day the peasant at his plough sings the same quavering lament that sang
+the Moor. And it is to the invaders that Spain as a country owes the
+magnificence of its golden age: it was contact with them that gave the
+Spaniards cultivation; it was the conflict of seven hundred years that
+made them the best soldiers in Europe, and masters of half the world.
+The long struggle caused that tension of spirit which led to the
+adventurous descent upon America, teaching recklessness of life and the
+fascination of unknown dangers; and it caused their downfall as it had
+caused their rise, for the religious element in the racial war
+occasioned the most cruel bigotry that has existed on the face of the
+earth, so that the victors suffered as terribly as the vanquished. The
+Moors, hounded out of Spain, took with them their arts and
+handicrafts--as the Huguenots from France after the revocation of the
+Edict of Nantes--and though for a while the light of Spain burnt very
+brightly, the light borrowed from Moordom, the oil jar was broken and
+the lamp flickered out.
+
+* * *
+
+In most countries there is one person in particular who seems to typify
+the race, whose works are the synthesis, as it were, of an entire
+people. Bernini expressed in this manner a whole age of Italian society;
+and even now his spirit haunts you as you read the gorgeous sins of
+Roman noblemen in the pages of Gabriele d'Annunzio. And Murillo, though
+the expert not unjustly from their special point of view, see in him but
+a mediocre artist, in the same way is the very quintessence of Southern
+Spain. Wielders of the brush, occupied chiefly with technique, are apt
+to discern little in an old master, save the craftsman; yet art is no
+more than a link in the chain of life and cannot be sharply sundered
+from the civilisation of which it is an outcome: even Velasquez, sans
+peer, sans parallel, throws a curious light on the world of his day, and
+the cleverest painters would find their knowledge and understanding of
+that great genius the fuller if they were acquainted with the plays of
+Lope de la Vega and the satires of Quevedo. Notwithstanding Murillo's
+obvious faults, as you walk through the museum at Seville all Andalusia
+appears before you. Nothing could be more characteristic than the
+religious feeling of the many pictures, than the exuberant fancy and
+utter lack of idealisation: in the contrast between a Holy Family by
+Murillo and one by Perugino is all the difference between Spain and
+Italy. Murillo's Virgin is a peasant girl such as you may see in any
+village round Seville on a feast-day; her emotions are purely human, and
+in her face is nothing more than the intense love of a mother for her
+child. But the Italian shows a creature not of earth, an angelic maid
+with almond eyes, oval of face: she has a strange air of unrealness, for
+her body is not of human flesh and blood, and she is linked with mankind
+only by an infinite sadness; she seems to see already the Dolorous Way,
+and her eyes are heavy with countless unwept tears.
+
+One picture especially, that which the painter himself thought his best
+work, _Saint Thomas of Villanueva distributing Alms_, to my mind offers
+the entire impression of that full life of Andalusia. In the splendour
+of mitre and of pastoral staff, in the sober magnificence of
+architecture, is all the opulence of the Catholic Church; in the worn,
+patient, ascetic face of the saint is the mystic, fervid piety which
+distinguished so wonderfully the warlike and barbarous Spain of the
+sixteenth century; and lastly, in the beggars covered with sores, pale,
+starving, with their malodorous rags, you feel strangely the swarming
+poverty of the vast population, downtrodden and vivacious, which you
+read of in the picaresque novels of a later day. And these same
+characteristics, the deep religious feeling, the splendour, the poverty,
+the extreme sense of vigorous life, the discerning may find even now
+among the Andalusians for all the modern modes with which, as with coats
+of London and bonnets of Paris, they have sought to liken themselves to
+the rest of Europe.
+
+And the colours of Murillo's palette are the typical colours of
+Andalusia, rich, hot, and deep--again contrasting with the enamelled
+brilliance of the Umbrians. He seems to have charged his brush with the
+very light and atmosphere of Seville; the country bathed in the
+splendour of an August sun has just the luminous character, the haziness
+of contour, which characterise the paintings of Murillo's latest manner.
+They say he adopted the style termed _vaporoso_ for greater rapidity of
+execution, but he cannot have lived all his life in that radiant
+atmosphere without being impregnated with it. In Andalusia there is a
+quality of the air which gives all things a limpid, brilliant softness,
+the sea of gold poured out upon them voluptuously rounds away their
+outlines; and one can well imagine that the master deemed it the
+culmination of his art when he painted with the same aureate effulgence,
+when he put on canvas those gorgeous tints and that exquisite
+mellowness.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+[Sidenote: The Churches of Ronda]
+
+
+That necessity of realism which is, perhaps, the most conspicuous of
+Spanish traits, shows itself nowhere more obviously than in matters
+religious. It is a very listless emotion that is satisfied with the
+shadow of the ideal; and the belief of the Andaluz is an intensely
+living thing, into which he throws himself with a vehemence that
+requires the nude and brutal fact. His saints must be fashioned after
+his own likeness, for he has small power of make-believe, and needs all
+manner of substantial accessories to establish his faith. But then he
+treats the images as living persons, and it never occurs to him to pray
+to the Saint in Paradise while kneeling before his presentment upon
+earth. The Spanish girl at the altar of _Mater Dolorosa_ prays to a
+veritable woman, able to speak if so she wills, able to descend from the
+golden shrine to comfort the devout worshipper. To her nothing is more
+real than these Madonnas, with their dark eyes and their abundant hair:
+_Maria del Pilar_, who is Mary of the Fountain, _Maria del Rosario_, who
+is Mary of the Rosary, _Maria de los Dolores_, _Maria del Carmen_,
+_Maria de los Angeles_. And they wear magnificent gowns of brocade and
+of cloth-of-gold, mantles heavily embroidered, shoes, rings on their
+fingers, rich jewels about their necks.
+
+In a little town like Ronda, so entirely apart from the world,
+poverty-stricken, this desire for realism makes a curiously strong
+impression. The churches, coated with whitewash, are squalid, cold and
+depressing; and at first sight the row of images looks nothing more than
+a somewhat vulgar exhibition of wax-work. But presently, as I lingered,
+the very poverty of it all touched me; and forgetting the grotesqueness,
+I perceived that some of the saints in their elaborate dresses were
+quite charming and graceful. In the church of _Santa Maria la Mayor_ was
+a Saint Catherine in rich habiliments of red brocade, with a white
+_mantilla_ arranged as only a Spanish woman could arrange it. She might
+have been a young gentlewoman of fifty years back when costume was gayer
+than nowadays, arrayed for a fashionable wedding or for a bull-fight.
+And in another church I saw a youthful Saint in priest's robes, a
+cassock of black silk and a short surplice of exquisite lace; he held a
+bunch of lilies in his hand and looked very gently, his lips almost
+trembling to a smile. One can imagine that not to them would come the
+suppliant with a heavy despair, they would be merely pained at their
+helplessness before the tears of the grief that kills and the woe of
+mothers sorrowing for their sons. But when the black-eyed maiden knelt
+before the priest, courtly and debonair, begging him to send a husband
+quickly, his lips surely would control themselves no longer, and his
+smile would set the damsel's cheek a-blushing. And if a youth knelt
+before Saint Catherine in her dainty _mantilla_, and vowed his heart was
+breaking because his love gave him stony glances, she would look very
+graciously upon him, so that his courage was restored, and he promised
+her a silver heart as lovers in Greece made votive offerings to
+Aphrodite.
+
+At the Church of the _Espirito Santo_, in a little chapel behind one of
+the transept altars, I saw, through a huge rococo frame of gilded wood,
+a _Maria de los Dolores_ that was almost terrifying in poignant realism.
+She wore a robe of black damask, which stood as if it were cast of
+bronze in heavy, austere folds, a velvet cloak decorated with the old
+lace known as _rose point d'Espagne_; and on her head a massive imperial
+diadem, and a golden aureole. Seven candles burned before her; and at
+vespers, when the church was nearly dark, they threw a cold, sharp light
+upon her countenance. Her eyes were in deep shadow, strangely
+mysterious, and they made the face, so small beneath the pompous crown,
+horribly life-like: you could not see the tears, but you felt they were
+eyes which would never cease from weeping.
+
+I suppose it was all tawdry and vulgar and common, but a woman knelt in
+front of the Mother of Sorrows, praying, a poor woman in a ragged shawl;
+I heard a sob, and saw that she was weeping; she sought to restrain
+herself and in the effort a tremor passed through her body, and she drew
+the shawl more closely round her.
+
+I walked away, and came presently to the most cruel of all these images.
+It was a _Pietà_. The Mother held on her knees the dead Son, looking in
+His face, and it was a ghastly contrast between her royal array and His
+naked body. She, too, wore the imperial crown, with its golden aureole,
+and her cloak was of damask embroidered with heavy gold. Her hair fell
+in curling abundance about her breast, and the sacristan told me it was
+the hair of a lady who had lost her husband and her only son. But the
+dead Christ was terrible, His face half hidden by the long straight
+hair, long as a woman's, and His body thin and all discoloured: from the
+wounds thick blood poured out, and their edges were swollen and red; the
+broken knees, the feet and hands, were purple and green with the
+beginning of putrefaction.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+[Sidenote: Ronda]
+
+
+Ronda is set deep among the mountains between Algeciras and Seville;
+they hem it in on all sides, and it straggles up and down little hills,
+timidly, as though its presence were an affront to the wild rocks around
+it. The houses are huddled against the churches, which look like portly
+hens squatting with ruffled feathers, while their chicks, for warmth,
+press up against them. It is very cold in Ronda. I saw it first quite
+early: over the town hung a grey mist shining in the sunlight, and the
+mountains, opalescent in the morning glow, were so luminous that they
+seemed hardly solid; they looked as if one could walk through them. The
+people, covering their mouths in dread of a _pulmonia_, hastened by,
+closely muffled in long cloaks. As I passed the open doors I saw them
+standing round the _brasero_, warming themselves; for fireplaces are
+unknown to Andalusia, the only means of heat being the _copa_, a round
+brass dish in which is placed burning charcoal.
+
+The height and the cold give Ronda a character which reminds one of
+Northern Spain; the roofs are quite steep, the houses low and small,
+built for warmth rather than, as in the rest of Andalusia, for
+coolness.
+
+But the whitewash and the barred windows with their wooden lattice-work,
+remind you that you are in Moorish country, in the very heart of it; and
+Ronda, indeed, figures in chronicles and in old ballads as a stronghold
+of the invaders. The temperature affects the habits of the people, even
+their appearance: there is no lounging about the squares or at the doors
+of wine-shops, the streets are deserted and their great breadth makes
+the emptiness more apparent. The first setters out of the town had no
+need to make the ways narrow for the sake of shade, and they are, in
+fact, so broad that the houses on either side might be laid on their
+faces, and there would still be room for the rapid stream which hurries
+down the middle.
+
+The conformation of a Spanish town, even though it lack museums and fine
+buildings, gives it an interest beyond that of most European places. The
+Moorish design is always evident. That wise people laid out the streets
+as was most convenient, tortuous and narrow at Cordova or broad as a
+king's highway in Ronda. The Moors stayed their time, and their hour
+struck, and they went; the houses had fallen to decay and been more than
+once rebuilt. The Christians returned and Mahomet fled before the
+Saints; (it was no shame since they grossly out-numbered him;) the
+mosque was made a church, and the houses as they fell were built again,
+but on the same foundations and in the same way. The streets have
+remained as the Moors left them, the houses still are built round little
+courtyards--the _patio_--as the Moors built them; and the windows are
+barred and latticed as of old, the better to protect beauty whose dark
+eyes flash too meaningly at wandering strangers, whose red lips are over
+ready to break into a smile for the peace of an absent husband.
+
+* * *
+
+After the busy clamour of Gibraltar, that ant-nest of a hundred
+nationalities, Ronda impresses you by its peculiar silence. The lack of
+sound is the more noticeable in the frosty clearness of the atmosphere,
+and is only emphasised by an occasional cry that floats, from some vast
+distance, along the air. The coldness, too, has pinched the features of
+the people, and they seem to grow old even earlier than in the rest of
+Andalusia. Strapping fellows of thirty with slim figures and a youthful
+air have the faces of elderly men, and their skin is hard, stained and
+furrowed. The women, ageing as rapidly, have no gaiety. If Spanish girls
+have frequently a beautiful youth, their age too often is atrocious: it
+is inconceivable that a handsome woman should become so fearful a hag;
+the luxuriant hair is lost, and she takes no pains to conceal her grey
+baldness, the eye loses its light, the enchanting down of the upper lip
+turns to a bristly moustache; the features harden, grow coarse and
+vulgar; and the countenance assumes a rapacious expression, so that she
+appears a bird of prey; and her strident voice is like the shriek of
+vultures. It is easily comprehensible that the Spanish stage should have
+taken the old woman as one of its most constant, characteristic types.
+But in Ronda even the girls have a weary look, as though life were not
+so easy a matter as in warmer places, or as the good God intended; and
+they seem to suffer from the brevity of youth, which is no sooner come
+than gone. They walk inertly, clothed in sombre colours, their hair not
+elaborately arranged as would have it the poorest cigarette-girl, but
+merely knotted, without the flower which the Sevillan is popularly said
+to insist upon even at the cost of a dinner. And when they go out the
+grey shawls they wrap about their heads add to their unattractiveness.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+[Sidenote: The Swineherd]
+
+
+But if Ronda itself is a somewhat dull and unsympathetic place with
+nothing more for the edification of the visitor than a melodramatic
+chasm, the surrounding country is worthy the most extravagant epithets.
+The mountains have the gloomy barrenness, the slate-grey colour of
+volcanic ranges; they encircle the town in a gigantic amphitheatre,
+rugged and overbearing like Titans turned to stone. They seem, indeed,
+to wear a sombre insolence of demeanour as though the aspect of human
+kind moved them to lofty contempt. And in their magnificent desolation
+they offer a fit environment for the exploits of Byronic heroes. The
+handsome villain of romance, seductive by the complexity of his
+emotions, by the persistence of his mysterious grief, would find himself
+in that theatrical scene most thoroughly at home; nor did Prosper
+Mérimée fail to seize the opportunity, for the mountains of Ronda were
+the very hunting-ground of Don Josè, who lost his soul for Carmen. But
+as a matter of history they were likewise the haunts of brigands in
+flesh and blood--malefactors in the past had that sense of the
+picturesque which now is vested in the amateur photographer--and this
+particular district was as dangerous to the travelling merchant as any
+in Spain.
+
+The environs of Ronda are barren and unfertile, the olive groves bear
+little fruit. I wandered through the lonely country, towards the
+mountains; the day was overcast and the clouds hung sluggishly overhead.
+As I walked, suddenly I heard a melancholy voice singing a peasant song,
+a _malagueña_. I paused to listen, but the sadness was almost
+unendurable; and it went on interminably, wailing through the air with
+the insistent monotony of its Moorish origin. I struck into the olives
+to find the singer and met a swineherd, guarding a dozen brown pigs, a
+youth thin of face, with dark eyes, clothed in undressed sheep-skins;
+and the brown wool gave him a singular appearance of community with the
+earth about him. He stood among the trees like a wild creature, more
+beast than man, and the lank, busy pigs burrowed around him, running to
+and fro, with little squeals. He ceased his song when I approached and
+looked up timidly. I spoke to him but he made no answer, I offered a
+cigarette but he shook his head.
+
+I went my way, and at first the road was not quite solitary. Two men
+passed me on donkeys. '_Vaya Usted con Dios!_' they cried--'Go you with
+God': it is the commonest greeting in Spain, and the most charming; the
+roughest peasant calls it as you meet him. A dozen grey asses went
+towards Ronda, one after the other, their panniers filled with stones;
+they walked with hanging heads, resigned to all their pain. But when at
+last I came into the mountains the loneliness was terrible. Not even
+the olive grew on those dark masses of rock, windswept and sterile;
+there was not a hut nor a cottage to testify of man's existence, not
+even a path such as the wild things of the heights might use. All life,
+indeed, appeared incongruous with that overwhelming solitude.
+
+Daylight was waning as I returned, but when I passed the olive-grove,
+where many hours before I had heard the _malagueña_, the same monotonous
+song still moaned along the air, carrying back my thoughts to the
+swineherd. I wondered what he thought of while he sang, whether the sad
+words brought him some dim emotion. How curious was the life he led! I
+suppose he had never travelled further than his native town; he could
+neither write nor read. Madrid to him was a city where the streets were
+paved with silver and the King's palace was of fine gold. He was born
+and grew to manhood and tended his swine, and some day he would marry
+and beget children, and at length die and return to the Mother of all
+things. It seemed to me that nowadays, when civilisation has become the
+mainstay of our lives, it is only with such beings as these that it is
+possible to realise the closeness of the tie between mankind and nature.
+To the poor herdsman still clung the soil; he was no foreign element in
+the scene, but as much part of it as the stunted olives, belonging to
+the earth intimately as the trees among which he stood, as the beasts he
+tended.
+
+* * *
+
+When I came near the town the sun was setting. In the west, tempestuous
+clouds were massed upon one another, and the sun shone blood-red above
+them; but as it sank they were riven asunder, and I saw a great furnace
+that lit up the whole sky. The mountains were purple, unreal as the
+painted mountains of a picture. The light was gone from the east, and
+there everything was chill and grey; the barren rocks looked so desolate
+that one shuddered with horror of the cold. But the sun fell gold and
+red, and the rift in the clouds was a kingdom of gorgeous light; the
+earth and its petty inhabitants died away, and in the crimson flame I
+could almost see Lucifer standing in his glory, god-like and young;
+Lucifer in all majesty, surrounded by his court of archangels,
+Beelzebub, Belial, Moloch, Abaddon.
+
+* * *
+
+I had discovered in the morning, from the steeple of _Santa Maria_, a
+queer ruined church, and was oddly impressed by the bare façade, with
+the yawning apertures of empty windows. I went to it, but every entrance
+was bricked up save one, which had a door of rough boards fastened by a
+padlock; and in a neighbouring house I found an old man with a key. It
+was a spot of utter desolation; the roof had gone or had never been. The
+custodian could not tell whether the church was the wreck of an old
+building or a framework that had never been completed; the walls were
+falling to decay. Along the nave and in the chapels trees were growing,
+shrubs and rank weeds; it was curious the utter ruin in the midst of the
+populous town. Pigs ran hither and thither, feeding, with noisy grunts,
+as they burrowed about the crumbling altar.
+
+The old man inquired whether I wished to buy the absolute uselessness
+of the place fascinated me. I asked the price. He looked me up and down,
+and seeing I was foreign, suggested a ridiculous sum. And while I amused
+myself with bargaining, I wondered what on earth one could do with a
+ruined church in Ronda. Half a dozen fantastic notions passed through my
+mind, but they were really too melodramatic.
+
+And now when the sun had set I returned. Notwithstanding his suspicions,
+I induced the keeper to give me his key; he could not understand what I
+desired at such an hour in that solitary place, and asked if I wished to
+sleep there! But I calmed his fears with a _peseta_--money goes a long
+way in Spain--and went in alone. The pigs had been removed and all was
+silent. A few bats flitted to and fro quickly. The light fell away
+greyly, the cold descended on the ruin, and it became very strange and
+mysterious. Presently, the roofless chapels seemed to grow alive with
+weird invisible things, the rank weeds exhaled chill odours; and in the
+lonely silence a mass began. At the ruined altar ghostly priests
+officiated, passing quietly from side to side, with bows and
+genuflections. The bell tinkled as they raised an invisible host. Soon
+it became quite dark, and the moon shone through the great empty windows
+of the façade.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+[Sidenote: Medinat Az-Zahra]
+
+
+In what you divine rather than in what you see lies half the charm of
+Andalusia, in the suggestion of all manner of delicate antique things,
+in the vivid memory of past grandeur. The Moors have gone, but still
+they inhabit the land in spirit and not seldom in a spectral way seem to
+regain their old dominion. Often towards evening, as I rode through the
+desolate country, I thought I saw an half-naked Moor ploughing his
+field, urging the lazy oxen with a long goad. Often the Spaniard on his
+horse vanished, and I saw a Muslim knight riding in pride and glory, his
+velvet cloak bespattered with the gold initial of his lady, and her
+favour fluttering from his lance. Once near Granada, standing on a hill,
+I watched the blood-red sun set tempestuously over the plain; and
+presently in the distance the gnarled olive-trees seemed living beings,
+and I saw contending hosts, two ghostly armies silently battling with
+one another; I saw the flash of scimitars, and the gleam of standards,
+the whiteness of the turbans. They fought with horrible carnage, and the
+land was crimson with their blood. Then the sun fell below the horizon,
+and all again was still and lifeless.
+
+And what can be more fascinating than that magic city of Az-Zahra, the
+wonder of its age, of which now not a stone remains? It was made to
+satisfy the whim of a concubine by a Sultan whose flamboyant passion
+moved him to displace mountains for the sake of his beloved; and the
+memory thereof is lost so completely that even its situation till lately
+was uncertain. Az-Zahra the Fairest said to Abd-er-Rahm[=a]n, her lord:
+'Raise me a city that shall take my name and be mine.' The Khalif built
+at the foot of the mountain which is called the Hill of the Bride; but
+when at last the lady, from the great hall of the palace, gazed at the
+snow-white city contrasting with the dark mountain, she remarked: 'See,
+O Master! how beautiful this girl looks in the arms of yonder
+Ethiopian.' The jealous Khalif immediately commanded the removal of the
+offending hill; and when he was convinced the task was impossible,
+ordered that the oaks and other mountain trees which grew upon it should
+be uprooted, and fig-trees and almonds planted in their stead.
+
+Imagine the _Hall of the Khalif_, with walls of transparent and
+many-coloured marble, with roof of gold; on each side were eight doors
+fixed upon arches of ivory and ebony, ornamented with precious metals
+and with precious stones; and when the sun penetrated them, the
+reflection of its rays upon the roof and walls was sufficient to deprive
+the beholders of sight! In the centre was a great basin filled with
+quicksilver, and the Sultan, wishing to terrify a courtier, would cause
+the metal to be set in motion, whereupon the apartment would seem
+traversed by flashes of lightning, and all the company would fall
+a-trembling.
+
+The old author tells of running streams and of limpid water, of stately
+buildings for the household guards, and magnificent palaces for the
+reception of high functionaries of state; of the thronging soldiers,
+pages, eunuchs, slaves, of all nations and of all religions, in
+sumptuous habiliments of silk and of brocade; of judges, theologians,
+and poets, walking with becoming gravity in the ample courts.... Alas!
+that poets now should rush through Fleet Street with unseemly haste,
+attired uncouthly in bowler hats and in preposterous tweeds!
+
+* * *
+
+From the celebrated legend of Roderick the Goth to that last scene when
+Boabdil handed the keys of Granada to King Ferdinand, the history of the
+Moorish occupation reads far more like romance than like sober fact. It
+is rich with every kind of passionate incident; it has all the strange
+vicissitudes of oriental history. What career could be more wonderful
+than that of Almanzor, who began life as a professional letter-writer,
+(a calling which you may still see exercised in the public places of
+Madrid or Seville,) and ended it as absolute ruler of an Empire! His
+charm of manner, his skill in flattery, the military genius which he
+developed when occasion called, his generosity and sense of justice, his
+love of literature and art, make him a figure to be contemplated with
+admiration; and when you add his utter lack of scruple, his selfishness,
+his ingratitude, his perfidy, you have a character complex enough to
+satisfy the most exacting.
+
+Those who would read of these things may find an admirable account in
+Mr. Lane-Poole's _Moors in Spain_; but I cannot renounce the pleasure of
+giving one characteristic detail. After the death of Abd-er-Rahm[=a]n,
+the builder of that magnificent city of Az-Zahra, a paper was found in
+his own handwriting, upon which he had noted those days in his long
+reign which had been free from all sorrow: they numbered fourteen.
+Sovereign lord of a country than which there is on earth none more
+delightful, his life had been of uninterrupted prosperity; success in
+peace and war attended him always; he possessed everything that it was
+possible for man to have. These are the observations of Al Makkary, the
+Arabic historian, when he narrates the incident:
+
+_O man of understanding! Wonder and observe the small portion of real
+happiness the world affords even in the most enviable position. Praise
+be given to Him, the Lord of eternal glory and everlasting empire! There
+is no God but He the Almighty, the Giver of Empire to whomsoever He
+pleases._
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+[Sidenote: The Mosque]
+
+
+But Cordova, from which Az-Zahra was about four miles distant, has
+visible delights that can vie with its neighbour's vanished pomp. I know
+nothing that can give a more poignant emotion than the interior of the
+mosque at Cordova; and yet I remember well the splendour of barbaric and
+oriental magnificence which was my first sight of St. Mark's at Venice,
+as I came abruptly from the darkness of an alley into the golden light
+of the Piazza. But to me at least the famous things of Italy, known from
+childhood in picture and in description, afford more than anything a
+joyful sense of recognition, a feeling as it were of home-coming, such
+as may hope to experience the devout Christian on entering upon his
+heritage in the Kingdom of Heaven. The mosque of Cordova is oriental and
+barbaric too; but I had never seen nor imagined anything in the least
+resembling it; there was no disillusionment possible, as too often in
+Italy, for the accounts I had read prepared me not at all for that
+overwhelming impression. It was so weird and strange, I felt myself
+transported suddenly to another world.
+
+They were singing Vespers when I entered, and I heard the shrill voices
+of choristers crying the responses; it did not sound like Christian
+music. The mosque was dimly lit, the air heavy with incense; and I saw
+this forest of pillars, extending every way, as far as the eye could
+reach. It was mysterious and awe-inspiring as those enchanted forests of
+one's childhood in which huge trees grew in serried masses and where in
+cavernous darkness goblins and giants of the fairy-tales, wild beasts
+and monstrous shapes, lay in wait for the terrified traveller who had
+lost his way. I wandered, keeping the Christian chapels out of sight,
+trying to lose myself among the columns; and now and then gained views
+of horseshoe arches interlacing, decorated with Moorish tracery.
+
+At length I came to the _Mihrab_, which is the Holy of Holies, the most
+exquisite as well as the most sacred part of the mosque. It is
+approached by a vestibule of which the roof is a miracle of grace, with
+mosaics that glow like precious stones, ultramarine, scarlet, emerald,
+and gold. The arch between the chambers is ornamented with four pillars
+of coloured marble, and again with mosaic, the gold letters of an Arabic
+inscription forming on the deep sapphire of the background a decorative
+pattern. The _Mihrab_ itself, which contained the famous Koran of
+Othman, has seven sides of white marble, and the roof is a huge shell
+cut from a single block.
+
+I tried to picture to myself the mosque before the Christians laid their
+desecrating hands upon it. The floor was of coloured tiles, tiles such
+as may still be seen in the Alhambra of Granada and in the Alcazar at
+Seville. The columns are of marble, of porphyry and jasper; tradition
+says they came from Carthage, from pagan temples in France and Christian
+churches in Spain; they are slender and unadorned, they must have
+contrasted astonishingly with the roof of larch wood, all ablaze with
+gold and with vermilion.
+
+There were three hundred chandeliers; and eight thousand lamps--cast of
+Christian bells--hung from the roof. The Arab writer tells of gold
+shining from the ceiling like fire, blazing like lightning when it darts
+across the clouds. The pulpit, wherein was kept the Koran, was of ivory
+and of exquisite woods, of ebony and sandal, of plantain, citron and
+aloe, fastened together with gold and silver nails and encrusted with
+priceless gems. It needed six Khalifs and Almanzor, the great Vizier, to
+complete the mosque of which Arab writers, with somewhat prosaic
+enthusiasm, said that 'in all the lands of Islam there was none of equal
+size, none more admirable in its workmanship, in its construction and
+durability.'
+
+* * *
+
+Then the Christians conquered Cordova, and the charming civilisation of
+the Moors was driven out by monks and priests and soldiers. First they
+built only chapels in the outermost aisles; but in a little while, to
+make room for a choir, they destroyed six rows of columns; and at last,
+when Master Martin Luther had rekindled Catholic piety, they set up a
+great church in the very middle of the mosque. The story of this
+vandalism is somewhat quaint, and one detail at least affords a
+suggestion that might prove useful in the present time; for the Town
+Council of Cordova menaced with death all who should assist in the work:
+one imagines that a similar threat from the Lord Mayor of London might
+have a salutary effect upon the restorers of Westminster Abbey or the
+decorators of St. Paul's. How very much more entertaining must have been
+the world when absolutism was the fashion and the preposterous method of
+universal suffrage had never been considered! But the Chapter, as those
+in power always are, was bent upon restoring, and induced Charles V. to
+give the necessary authority. The king, however, had not understood what
+they wished to do, and when later he visited Cordova and saw what had
+happened, he turned to the dignitaries who were pointing out the
+improvements and said: 'You have built what you or others might have
+built anywhere, but you have destroyed something that was unique in the
+world.' The words show a fine scorn; but as a warning to later
+generations it would have been more to the purpose to cut off a dozen
+priestly heads.
+
+Yet oddly enough the Christian additions are not so utterly discordant
+as one would expect! Hernan Ruiz did the work well, even though it was
+work he might conveniently have been drawn and quartered for doing.
+Typically Spanish in its fine proportion, in its exuberance of fantastic
+decoration, his church is a masterpiece of plateresque architecture. Nor
+are the priests entirely out of harmony with the building wherein they
+worship. For an hour they had sung Vespers, and the deep voices of the
+canons, chaunting monotonously, rang weird and long among the columns;
+but they finished, and left the choir one by one, walking silently
+across the church to the sacristy. The black cassock and the scarlet
+hood made a fine contrast, while the short cambric surplice added to the
+costume a most delicate grace. One of them paused to speak with two
+ladies in _mantillas_, and the three made a picturesque group,
+suggesting all manner of old Spanish romance.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+[Sidenote: The Court of Oranges]
+
+
+I went into the cathedral from the side and issuing by another door,
+found myself in the Court of Oranges. The setting sun touched it with
+warm light and overhead the sky was wonderfully blue. In Moorish times
+the mosque was separated from the court by no dividing-wall, so that the
+arrangement of pillars within was continued by the even lines of
+orange-trees; these are of great age and size, laden with fruit, and in
+their copious foliage stand with a trim self-assurance that is quite
+imposing.
+
+In the centre, round a fountain into which poured water from jets at the
+four corners, stood a number of persons with jars of earthenware and
+bright copper cans. One girl held herself with the fine erectness of a
+Caryatid, while her jar, propped against the side, filled itself with
+the cold, sparkling water. A youth, some vessel in his hand, leaned over
+in an attitude of easy grace; and looking into her eyes, appeared to pay
+compliments, which she heard with superb indifference. A little boy ran
+up, and the girl held aside her jar while he put his mouth to the spout
+and drank. Then, as it overflowed, she lifted it with comely motion to
+her head and slowly walked away.
+
+By now the canons had unrobed, and several strolled about the court in
+the sun, smoking cigarettes. The acolytes with the removal of their
+scarlet cassocks, were become somewhat ragged urchins playing pitch and
+toss with much gesture and vociferation. Two of them quarrelled fiercely
+because one player would not yield the halfpenny he had certainly lost,
+and the altercation must have ended in blows if a corpulent, elderly
+cleric had not indignantly reproved them, and boxed their ears. A row of
+tattered beggars, very well contented in the sunshine, were seated on a
+step, likewise smoking cigarettes, and obviously they did not consider
+their walk of life unduly hard.
+
+And the thought impressed itself upon me while I lingered in that
+peaceful spot, that there was far more to be said for the simple
+pleasures of sense than northern folk would have us believe. The English
+have still much of that ancient puritanism which finds a vague
+sinfulness in the uncostly delights of sunshine, and colour, and ease of
+mind. It is well occasionally to leave the eager turmoil of great cities
+for such a place as this, where one may learn that there are other, more
+natural ways of living, that it is possible still to spend long days,
+undisturbed by restless passion, without regret or longing, content in
+the various show that nature offers, asking only that the sun should
+shine and the happy seasons run their course.
+
+An English engineer whom I had seen at the hotel, approaching me,
+expressed the idea in his own graphic manner. 'Down here there are a
+good sight more beer and skittles in life than up in Sheffield!'
+
+One canon especially interested me, a little thin man, bent and
+wrinkled, apparently of fabulous age, but still something of a dandy,
+for he wore his clothes with a certain air, as though half a century
+before, byronically, he had been quite a devil with the ladies. The
+silver buckle on his shoes was most elegant, and he protruded his foot
+as though the violet silk of his stocking gave him a discreet pleasure.
+To the very backbone he was an optimist, finding existence evidently so
+delightful that it did not even need rose-coloured spectacles. He was an
+amiable old man, perhaps a little narrow, but very indulgent to the
+follies of others. He had committed no sin himself--for many years: a
+suspicion of personal vanity is in itself proof of a pure and gentle
+mind; and as for the sins of others--they were probably not heinous, and
+at all events would gain forgiveness. The important thing, surely, was
+to be sound in dogma. The day wore on and the sun now shone only in a
+narrow space; and this the canon perambulated, smoking the end of a
+cigarette, the delectable frivolity of which contrasted pleasantly with
+his great age. He nodded affably to other priests as they passed, a pair
+of young men, and one obese old creature with white hair and an
+expression of comfortable self-esteem. He removed his hat with a great
+and courteous sweep when a lady of his acquaintance crossed his path.
+The priests basking in the warmth were like four great black cats. It
+was indeed a pleasant spot, and contentment oozed into one by every
+pore. The canon rolled himself another cigarette, smiling as he inhaled
+the first sweet whiffs; and one could not but think the sovereign herb
+must greatly ease the journey along the steep and narrow way which leads
+to Paradise. The smoke rose into the air lazily, and the old cleric
+paused now and again to look at it, the little smile of
+self-satisfaction breaking on his lips.
+
+Up in the North, under the cold grey sky, God Almighty may be a hard
+taskmaster, and the Kingdom of Heaven is attained only by much
+endeavour; but in Cordova these things come more easily. The aged priest
+walks in the sun and smokes his _cigarillo_. Heaven is not such an
+inaccessible place after all. Evidently he feels that he has done his
+duty--with the help of Havana tobacco--in that state of life wherein it
+has pleased a merciful providence to place him; and St. Peter would
+never be so churlish as to close the golden gates in the face of an
+ancient canon who sauntered to them jauntily, with the fag end of a
+cigarette in the corner of his mouth. Let us cultivate our cabbages in
+the best of all possible worlds; and afterwards--_Dieu pardonnera; c'est
+son métier_.
+
+* * *
+
+Three months later in the _Porvenir_, under the heading, 'Suicide of a
+Priest,' I read that one of these very canons of the Cathedral at
+Cordova had shot himself. A report was heard, said the journal, and the
+Civil Guard arriving, found the man prostrate with blood pouring from
+his ear, a revolver by his side. He was transported to the hospital, the
+sacrament administered, and he died. In his pockets they found a
+letter, a pawn-ticket, a woman's bracelet, and some peppermint lozenges.
+He was thirty-five years old. The newspaper moralised as follows: 'When
+even the illustrious order to which the defunct belonged is tainted with
+such a crime, it is well to ask whither tends the incredulity of society
+which finds an end to its sufferings in the barrel of a revolver. Let
+moralists and philosophers combat with all their might this dreadful
+tendency; let them make even the despairing comprehend that death is not
+the highest good but the passage to an unknown world where, according to
+Christian belief, the ill deeds of this existence are punished and the
+virtuous rewarded.'
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+[Sidenote: Cordova]
+
+
+Ronda, owing its peculiarities to the surrounding mountains, was not
+really very characteristic of the country, and might equally well have
+been an highland townlet in any part of Southern Europe. But Cordova
+offers immediately the full sensation of Andalusia. It is absolutely a
+Moorish city, white and taciturn, so that you are astonished to meet
+people in European dress rather than Arabs, in shuffling yellow
+slippers. The streets are curiously silent; for the carriage, as in
+Tangiers, is done by mules and donkeys, which walk so quietly that you
+never hear them. Sometimes you are warned by a deep-voiced '_Cuidado_,'
+but more often a pannier brushing you against the wall brings the first
+knowledge of their presence. On looking up you are again surprised to
+see not a great shining negro in a burnouse, but a Spaniard in tight
+trousers, with a broad-brimmed hat.
+
+And Cordova has that sweet, exhilarating perfume of Andalusia than which
+nothing gives more vividly the complete feeling of the country. Those
+travellers must be obtuse of nostril who do not recognise different
+smells, grateful or offensive, in different places; no other peculiarity
+is more distinctive, so that an odour crossing by chance one's sense is
+able to recall suddenly all the complicated impressions of a strange
+land. When I return from England it is always that subtle fragrance
+which first strikes me, a mingling in warm sunlight of orange-blossom,
+incense, and cigarette smoke; and two whiffs of a certain brand of
+tobacco are sufficient to bring back to me Seville, the most enchanting
+of all my memories. I suppose that nowhere else are cigarettes consumed
+so incessantly; for in Andalusia it is not only certain classes who use
+them, but every one, without distinction of age or station--from the
+ragamuffin selling lottery-tickets in the street to the portly, solemn
+priest, to the burly countryman, the shop-keeper, the soldier. After
+all, no better means of killing time have ever been devised, and
+consequently to smoke them affords an occupation which most thoroughly
+suits the Spaniard.
+
+* * *
+
+I looked at Cordova from the bell-tower of the cathedral. The roofs,
+very lovely in their diversity of colour, were of rounded tiles, fading
+with every variety of delicate shade from russet and brown to yellow and
+the tenderest green. From the courtyards, here and there, rose a tall
+palm, or an orange-tree, like a dash of jade against the brilliant sun.
+The houses, plainly whitewashed, have from the outside so mean a look
+that it is surprising to find them handsome and spacious within. They
+are built, Moorish fashion, round a _patio_, which in Cordova at least
+is always gay with flowers. When you pass the iron gates and note the
+contrast between the snowy gleaming of the street and that southern
+greenery, the suggestion is inevitable of charming people who must rest
+there in the burning heat of summer. With those surroundings and in such
+a country passion grows surely like a poisonous plant. At night, in the
+starry darkness, how irresistible must be the flashing eyes of love, how
+eloquent the pleading of whispered sighs! But woe to the maid who admits
+the ardent lover among the orange-trees, her head reeling with the sweet
+intoxication of the blossom; for the Spanish gallant is fickle, quick to
+forget the vows he spoke so earnestly: he soon grows tired of kissing,
+and mounting his horse, rides fast away.
+
+The uniformity of lime-washed houses makes Cordova the most difficult
+place in the world wherein to find your way. The streets are exactly
+alike, so narrow that a carriage could hardly pass, paved with rough
+cobbles, and tortuous: their intricacy is amazing, labyrinthine; they
+wind in and out of one another, leading nowhither; they meander on for
+half a mile and stop suddenly, or turn back, so that you are forced to
+go in the direction you came. You may wander for hours, trying to find
+some point that from the steeple appeared quite close. Sometimes you
+think they are interminable.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+[Sidenote: The Bridge of Calahorra]
+
+
+The bridge that the Moors built over the Guadalquivir straggles across
+the water with easy arches. Somewhat dilapidated and very beautiful, it
+has not the strenuous look of such things in England, and the mere sight
+of it fills you with comfort. The clustered houses, with an added
+softness from the light burning mellow on their roofs and on their white
+walls, increase the happy impression that the world is not necessarily
+hurried and toilful. And the town, separated from the river by no formal
+embankment, lounges at the water's edge like a giant, prone on the grass
+and lazy, stretching his limbs after the mid-day sleep.
+
+There is no precipitation in such a place as Cordova; life is quite long
+enough for all that it is really needful to do; to him who waits come
+all things, and a little waiting more or less can be of no great
+consequence. Let everything be taken very leisurely, for there is ample
+time. Yet in other parts of Andalusia they say the Cordovese are the
+greatest liars and the biggest thieves in Spain, which points to
+considerable industry. The traveller, hearing this, will doubtless ask
+what business has the pot to call the kettle black; and it is true that
+the standard of veracity throughout the country is by no means high.
+But this can scarcely be termed a vice, for the Andalusians see in it
+nothing discreditable, and it can be proved as exactly as a proposition
+of Euclid that vice and virtue are solely matters of opinion. In
+Southern Spain bosom friends lie to one another with complete freedom;
+no man would take his wife's word, but would believe only what he
+thought true, and think no worse of her when he caught her fibbing.
+Mendacity is a thing so perfectly understood that no one is abashed by
+detection. In England most men equivocate and nearly all women, but they
+are ashamed to be discovered; they blush and stammer and hesitate, or
+fly into a passion; the wiser Spaniard laughs, shrugging his shoulders,
+and utters a dozen rapid falsehoods to make up for the first. It is
+always said that a good liar needs an excellent memory, but he wants
+more qualities than that--unblushing countenance, the readiest wit, a
+manner to beget confidence. In fact it is so difficult to lie
+systematically and well that the ardour of the Andalusians in that
+pursuit can be ascribed only to an innate characteristic. Their
+imaginations, indeed, are so exuberant that the bald fact is to them
+grotesque and painful. They are like writers in love with words for
+their own sake, who cannot make the plainest statement without a gay
+parade of epithet and metaphor. They embroider and decorate, they colour
+and enhance the trivial details of circumstance. They must see
+themselves perpetually in an attitude; they must never fail to be
+effective. They lie for art's sake, without reason or rhyme, from mere
+devilry, often when it can only harm them. Mendacity then becomes an
+intellectual exercise, such as the poet's sonneteering to an imaginary
+lady-love.
+
+But the Cordovan very naturally holds himself in no such unflattering
+estimation. The motto of his town avers that he is a warlike person and
+a wise one:
+
+    Cordoba, casa de guerrera gente
+    Y de sabiduria clara fuente!
+
+And the history thereof, with its University and its Khalifs, bears him
+out. Art and science flourished there when the rest of Europe was
+enveloped in mediæval darkness: when our Saxon ancestors lived in dirty
+hovels, barbaric brutes who knew only how to kill, to eat, and to
+propagate their species, the Moors of Cordova cultivated all the
+elegancies of life from verse-making to cleanliness.
+
+* * *
+
+I was standing on the bridge. The river flowed tortuously through the
+fertile plain, broad and shallow, and in it the blue sky and the white
+houses of the city were brightly mirrored. In the distance, like a
+vapour of amethyst, rose the mountains; while at my feet, in mid-stream,
+there were two mills which might have been untouched since Moorish days.
+There had been no rain for months, the water stood very low, and here
+and there were little islands of dry yellow sand, on which grew reeds
+and sedge. In such a spot might easily have wandered the half-naked
+fisherman of the oriental tale, bewailing in melodious verse the
+hardness of his lot; since to his net came no fish, seeking a broken pot
+or a piece of iron wherewith to buy himself a dinner. There might he
+find a ring half-buried in the sand, which, when he rubbed to see if it
+were silver, a smoke would surely rise from the water, increasing till
+the light of day was obscured; and half dead with fear, he would
+perceive at last a gigantic body towering above him, and a voice more
+terrible than the thunder of Allah, crying: 'What wishest thou from thy
+slave, O king? Know that I am of the Jin, and Suleyman, whose name be
+exalted, enslaved me to the ring that thou hast found.'
+
+In Cordova recollections of the _Arabian Nights_ haunt you till the
+commonest sights assume a fantastic character, and the frankly
+impossible becomes mere matter of fact. You wonder whether your life is
+real or whether you have somehow reverted to the days when Scheherazade,
+with her singular air of veracity, recited such enthralling stories to
+her lord as to save her own life and that of many other maidens. I
+looked along the river and saw three slender trees bending over it,
+reflecting in the placid water their leafless branches, and under them
+knelt three women washing clothes. Were they three beautiful princesses
+whose fathers had been killed, and they expelled from their kingdom and
+thus reduced to menial occupations? Who knows? Indeed, I thought it very
+probable, for so many royal persons have come down in the world of late;
+but I did not approach them, since king's daughters under these
+circumstances have often lost one eye, and their morals are nearly
+always of the worst description.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+[Sidenote: Puerta del Puente]
+
+
+I went back to the old gate which led to the bridge. Close by, in the
+little place, was the hut of the _consumo_, the local custom-house, with
+officials lounging at the door or sitting straddle-legged on chairs,
+lazily smoking. Opposite was a tobacconist's, with the gaudy red and
+yellow sign, _Campañia arrendataria de tabacos_, and a dram-shop where
+three hardy Spaniards from the mountains stood drinking _aguardiente_.
+Than this, by the way, there is in the world no more insidious liquor,
+for at first you think its taste of aniseed and peppermint very
+disagreeable; but perseverance, here as in other human affairs, has its
+reward, and presently you develop for it a liking which time increases
+to enthusiasm. In Spain, the land of custom and usage, everything is
+done in a certain way; and there is a proper manner to drink
+_aguardiente_. To sip it would show a lamentable want of decorum. A
+Spaniard lifts the little glass to his lips, and with a comic, abrupt
+motion tosses the contents into his mouth, immediately afterwards
+drinking water, a tumbler of which is always given with the spirit. It
+is really the most epicurean of intoxicants because the charm lies in
+the after-taste. The water is so cool and refreshing after the
+fieriness; it gives, without the gasconnade, the emotion Keats
+experienced when he peppered his mouth with cayenne for the greater
+enjoyment of iced claret.
+
+But the men wiped their mouths with their hands and came out of the wine
+shop, mounting their horses which stood outside--shaggy, long-haired
+beasts with high saddles and great box-stirrups. They rode slowly
+through the gate one after the other, in the easy slouching way of men
+who have been used to the saddle all their lives and in the course of
+the week are accustomed to go a good many miles in an easy jog-trot to
+and from the town. It seems to me that the Spaniards resolve themselves
+into types more distinctly than is usual in northern countries, while
+between individuals there is less difference. These three, clean-shaven
+and uniformly dressed, of middle size, stout, with heavy strong features
+and small eyes, certainly resembled one another very strikingly. They
+were the typical inn-keepers of Goya's pictures but obviously could not
+all keep inns; doubtless they were farmers, horse-dealers, or
+forage-merchants, shrewd men of business, with keen eyes for the main
+chance. That class is the most trustworthy in Spain, kind, hospitable,
+and honest; they are old-fashioned people with many antique customs, and
+preserve much of the courteous dignity which made their fathers famous.
+
+A string of grey donkeys came along the bridge, their panniers
+earth-laden, poor miserable things that plodded slowly and painfully,
+with heads bent down, placing one foot before the other with the
+donkey's peculiar motion, patiently doing a thing they had patiently
+done ever since they could bear a load. They seemed to have a dull
+feeling that it was no use to make a fuss, or to complain; it would just
+go on till they dropped down dead and their carcases were sold for
+leather and glue. There was a Spanish note in the red trappings, braided
+and betasselled, but all worn, discoloured and stained.
+
+Inside the gate they stopped, waiting in a huddled group, with the same
+heavy patience, for the examination of the _consumo_. An officer of the
+custom-house went round with a long steel prong, which he ran into the
+baskets one by one, to see that there was nothing dutiable hidden in the
+earth. Then, sparing of his words, he made a sign to the driver and sat
+down again straddle-wise on his chair. '_Arre, burra!_' The first donkey
+walked slowly on, and as they heard the tinkling of the leader's bell
+the rest stepped forward in the long line, their heads hanging down,
+with that hopeless movement of the feet.
+
+* * *
+
+In the night, wandering at random through the streets, their silent
+whiteness filled me again with that intoxicating sensation of the
+_Arabian Nights_. I looked through the iron gateways as I passed, into
+the _patios_ with their dark foliage, and once I heard the melancholy
+twang of a guitar. I was sure that in one of those houses the three
+princesses had thrown off their disguise and sat radiant in queenly
+beauty, their raven tresses falling in a hundred plaits over their
+shoulders, their fingers stained with henna and their long eyelashes
+darkened with kohl. But alas! though I lost my way I found them not.
+
+Yet many an amorous Spaniard, too passionate to be admitted within his
+mistress' house, stood at her window. This method of philandering,
+surely most conducive to the ideal, is variously known as _comer
+hierro_, to eat iron, and _pelar la pava_, to pluck the turkey. One
+imagines that the cold air of a winter's night must render the most
+ardent lover platonic. It is a significant fact that in Spanish novels
+if the hero is left for two minutes alone with the heroine there are
+invariably asterisks and some hundred pages later a baby. So it is
+doubtless wise to separate true love by iron bars, and perchance
+beauty's eyes flash more darkly to the gallant standing without the
+gate; illusions, the magic flower of passion, arise more willingly. But
+in Spain the blood of youth is very hot, love laughs at most restraints
+and notwithstanding these precautions, often enough there is a
+catastrophe. The Spaniard, who will seduce any girl he can, is pitiless
+under like circumstances to his own womenkind; so there is much weeping,
+the girl is turned out of doors and falls readily into the hands of the
+procuress. In the brothels of Seville or of Madrid she finds at least a
+roof and bread to eat; and the fickle swain goes his way rejoicing.
+
+I found myself at last near the _Puerta del Puente_, and I stood again
+on the Moorish bridge. The town was still and mysterious in the night,
+and the moon shone down on the water with a hard and brilliant coldness.
+The three trees with their bare branches looked yet more slender, naked
+and alone, like pre-Raphaelite trees in a landscape of _Pélléas et
+Mélisande_; the broad river, almost stagnant, was extraordinarily calm
+and silent. I wondered what strange things the placid Guadalquivir had
+seen through the centuries; on its bosom many a body had been borne
+towards the sea. It recalled those mysterious waters of the Eastern
+tales which brought to the marble steps of palaces great chests in which
+lay a fair youth's headless corpse or a sleeping beautiful maid.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+[Sidenote: Seville]
+
+
+The impression left by strange towns and cities is often a matter of
+circumstance, depending upon events in the immediate past; or on the
+chance which, during his earliest visit, there befell the traveller.
+After a stormy passage across the Channel, Newhaven, from the mere fact
+of its situation on solid earth, may gain a fascination which closer
+acquaintance can never entirely destroy; and even Birmingham, first seen
+by a lurid sunset, may so affect the imagination as to appear for ever
+like some infernal, splendid city, restless with the hurried toil of
+gnomes and goblins. So to myself Seville means ten times more than it
+can mean to others. I came to it after weary years in London, heartsick
+with much hoping, my mind dull with drudgery; and it seemed a land of
+freedom. There I became at last conscious of my youth, and it seemed a
+belvedere upon a new life. How can I forget the delight of wandering in
+the Sierpes, released at length from all imprisoning ties, watching the
+various movement as though it were a stage-play, yet half afraid that
+the falling curtain would bring back reality! The songs, the dances, the
+happy idleness of orange-gardens, the gay turbulence of Seville by
+night; ah! there at least I seized life eagerly, with both hands,
+forgetting everything but that time was short and existence full of joy.
+I sat in the warm sunshine, inhaling the pleasant odours, reminding
+myself that I had no duty to do then, or the morrow, or the day after. I
+lay a-bed thinking how happy, effortless and free would be my day.
+Mounting my horse, I clattered through the narrow streets, over the
+cobbles, till I came to the country; the air was fresh and sweet, and
+Aguador loved the spring mornings. When he put his feet to the springy
+turf he gave a little shake of pleasure, and without a sign from me
+broke into a gallop. To the amazement of shepherds guarding their wild
+flocks, to the confusion of herds of brown pigs, scampering hastily as
+we approached, he and I excited by the wind singing in our ears, we
+pelted madly through the country. And the whole land laughed with the
+joy of living.
+
+But I love also the recollection of Seville in the grey days of
+December, when the falling rain offered a grateful contrast to the
+unvarying sunshine. Then new sights delighted the eye, new perfumes the
+nostril. In the decay of that long southern autumn a more sombre
+opulence was added to the gay colours; a different spirit filled the
+air, so that I realised suddenly that old romantic Spain of Ferdinand
+and Isabella. It lay a-dying still, gorgeous in corruption, sober yet
+flamboyant, rich and poverty-stricken, squalid, magnificent. The white
+streets, the dripping trees, the clouds gravid with rain, gave to all
+things an adorable melancholy, a sad, poetic charm. Looking back, I
+cannot dismiss the suspicion that my passionate emotions were somewhat
+ridiculous, but at twenty-three one can afford to lack a sense of
+humour.
+
+* * *
+
+But Seville at first is full of disillusion. It has offered abundant
+material to the idealist who, as might be expected, has drawn of it a
+picture which is at once common and pretentious. Your idealist can see
+no beauty in sober fact, but must array it in all the theatrical
+properties of a vulgar imagination; he must give to things more imposing
+proportions, he colours gaudily; Nature for him is ever posturing in the
+full glare of footlights. Really he stands on no higher level than the
+housemaid who sees in every woman a duchess in black velvet, an Aubrey
+Plantagenet in plain John Smith. So I, in common with many another
+traveller, expected to find in the Guadalquivir a river of transparent
+green, with orange-groves along its banks, where wandered ox-eyed youths
+and maidens beautiful. Palm-trees, I thought, rose towards heaven, like
+passionate souls longing for release from earthly bondage; Spanish
+women, full-breasted and sinuous, danced _boleros_, _fandangos_, while
+the air rang with the joyous sound of castanets, and toreadors in
+picturesque habiliments twanged the light guitar.
+
+Alas! the Guadalquivir is like yellow mud, and moored to the busy quays
+lie cargo-boats lading fruit or grain or mineral; there no perfume
+scents the heavy air. The nights, indeed, are calm and clear, and the
+stars shine brightly; but the river banks see no amours more romantic
+than those of stokers from Liverpool or Glasgow, and their lady-loves
+have neither youth nor beauty.
+
+Yet Seville has many a real charm to counter-balance these lost
+illusions. He that really knows it, like an ardent lover with his
+mistress' imperfections, would have no difference; even the
+Guadalquivir, so matter-of-fact, really so prosaic, has an unimagined
+attractiveness; the crowded shipping, the hurrying porters, add to that
+sensation of vivacity which is of Seville the most fascinating
+characteristic. And Seville is an epitome of Andalusia, with its life
+and death, with its colour and vivid contrasts, with its boyish gaiety.
+
+It is a city of delightful ease, of freedom and sunshine, of torrid
+heat. There it does not matter what you do, nor when, nor how you do it.
+There is none to hinder you, none to watch. Each takes his ease, and is
+content that his neighbour should do the like. Doubtless people are lazy
+in Seville, but good heavens! why should one be so terribly strenuous?
+Go into the Plaza Nueva, and you will see it filled with men of all
+ages, of all classes, 'taking the sun'; they promenade slowly,
+untroubled by any mental activity, or sit on benches between the
+palm-trees, smoking cigarettes; perhaps the more energetic read the
+bull-fighting news in the paper. They are not ambitious, and they do not
+greatly care to make their fortunes; so long as they have enough to eat
+and drink--food is very cheap--and cigarettes to smoke, they are quite
+happy. The Corporation provides seats, and the sun shines down for
+nothing--so let them sit in it and warm themselves. I daresay it is as
+good a way of getting through life as most others.
+
+A southern city never reveals its true charm till the summer, and few
+English know what Seville is under the burning sun of July. It was built
+for the great heat, and it is only then that the refreshing coolness of
+the _patio_ can be appreciated. In the streets the white glare is
+mitigated by awnings that stretch from house to house, and the half
+light in the Sierpes, the High Street, has a curious effect; the people
+in their summer garb walk noiselessly, as though the warmth made sound
+impossible. Towards evening the sail-cloths are withdrawn, and a breath
+of cold air sinks down; the population bestirs itself, and along the
+Sierpes the _cafés_ become suddenly crowded and noisy.
+
+Then, for it was too hot to ride earlier, I would mount my horse and
+cross the river. The Guadalquivir had lost its winter russet, and under
+the blue sky gained varied tints of liquid gold, of emerald and of
+sapphire. I lingered in Triana, the gipsy-quarter, watching the people.
+Beautiful girls stood at the windows, so that the whole way was lined
+with them, and their lips were not unwilling to break into charming
+smiles. One especially I remember who was used to sit on a balcony at a
+street-corner; her hair was irreproachable in its elaborate arrangement,
+and the red carnation in it gleamed like fire against the night. Her
+face was long, fairer-complexioned than is common, with regular and
+delicate features. She sat at her balcony, with a huge book open on her
+knee, which she read with studied disregard of the passers-by; but when
+I looked back sometimes I saw that she had lifted her eyes, lustrous and
+dark, and they met mine gravely.
+
+And in the country I passed through long fields of golden corn, which
+reached as far as I could see; I remembered the spring, when it had all
+been new, soft, fresh, green. And presently I turned round to look at
+Seville in the distance, bathed in brilliant light, glowing as though
+its walls were built of yellow flame. The Giralda arose in its wonderful
+grace like an arrow; so slim, so comely, it reminded one of an Arab
+youth, with long, thin limbs. With the setting sun, gradually the city
+turned rosy-red and seemed to lose all substantiality, till it became a
+many-shaped mist that was dissolved in the tenderness of the sky.
+
+Late in the night I stood at my window looking at the cloudless heaven.
+From the earth ascended, like incense, the mellow odours of summer-time;
+the belfry of the neighbouring church stood boldly outlined against the
+darkness, and the storks that had built their nest upon it were
+motionless, not stirring even as the bells rang out the hours. The city
+slept, and it seemed that I alone watched in the silence; the sky still
+was blue, and the stars shone in their countless millions. I thought of
+the city that never rested, of London with its unceasing roar, the
+endless streets, the greyness. And all around me was a quiet serenity, a
+tranquillity such as the Christian may hope shall reward him in Paradise
+for the troublous pilgrimage of life. But that is long ago and passed
+for ever.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+[Sidenote: The Alcazar]
+
+
+Arriving at Seville the recollection of Cordova took me quickly to the
+Alcazar; but I was a little disappointed. It has been ill and tawdrily
+restored, with crude pigments, with gold that is too bright and too
+clean; but even before that, Charles V. and his successors had made
+additions out of harmony with Moorish feeling. Of the palace where lived
+the Mussulman Kings nothing, indeed, remains; but Pedro the Cruel, with
+whom the edifice now standing is more especially connected, was no less
+oriental than his predecessors, and he employed Morisco architects to
+rebuild it. Parts are said to be exact reproductions of the older
+structure, while many of the beautiful tiles were taken from Moorish
+houses.
+
+The atmosphere, then, is but half Arabic; the rest belongs to that
+flaunting, multi-coloured barbarism which is characteristic of Northern
+Spain before the union of Arragon and Castile. Wandering in the deserted
+courts, looking through horseshoe windows of exquisite design at the
+wild garden, Pedro the Cruel and Maria de Padilla are the figures that
+occupy the mind.
+
+Seville teems with anecdotes of the monarch who, according to the point
+of view, has been called the Cruel and the Just. He was an amorist for
+whom platonic dalliance had no charm, and there are gruesome tales of
+ladies burned alive because they would not quench the flame of his
+desires, of others, fiercely virtuous, who poured boiling oil on face
+and bosom to make themselves unattractive in his sight. But the head
+that wears a crown apparently has fascinations which few women can
+resist, and legend tells more frequently of Pedro's conquests than of
+his rebuffs. He was an ardent lover to whom marriage vows were of no
+importance; that he committed bigamy is certain--and pardonable, but
+some historians are inclined to think that he had at one and the same
+time no less than three wives. He was oriental in his tastes.
+
+In imitation of the Paynim sovereigns Pedro loved to wander in the
+streets of Seville at night, alone and disguised, to seek adventure or
+to see for himself the humour of his subjects; and like them also it
+pleased him to administer justice seated in the porch of his palace. If
+he was often hard and proud towards the nobles, with the people he was
+always very gracious; to them he was the redressor of wrongs and a
+protector of the oppressed; his justice was that of the Mussulman
+rulers, rapid, terrible and passionate, often quaint. For instance: a
+rich priest had done some injury to a cobbler, who brought him before
+the ecclesiastical tribunals, where he was for a year suspended from his
+clerical functions. The tradesman thought the punishment inadequate, and
+taking the law into his own hands gave the priest a drubbing. He was
+promptly seized, tried, condemned to death. But he appealed to the king
+who, with a witty parody of the rival Court, changed the punishment to
+suspension from his trade, and ordered the cobbler for twelve months to
+make no boots.
+
+On the other hand, the Alcazar itself has been the scene of Pedro's
+vilest crimes, in the whole list of which is none more insolent, none
+more treacherous, than that whereby he secured the priceless ruby which
+graces still the royal crown of England. There is a school of historians
+which insists on finding a Baptist Minister in every hero--think what a
+poor-blooded creature they wish to make of the glorious Nelson--but no
+casuistry avails to cleanse the memory of Pedro of Castille: even for
+his own ruthless age he was a monster of cruelty and lust. Indeed the
+indignation with which his biographers have felt bound to charge their
+pens has somewhat obscured their judgment; they have so eagerly insisted
+on the censure with which themselves regard their hero's villainies,
+that they have found little opportunity to explain a complex character.
+Yet the story of his early life affords a simple key to his maturity.
+Till the age of fifteen he lived in prisons, suffering with his mother
+every insult and humiliation, while his father's mistress kept queenly
+state, and her children received the honours of royal princes. When he
+came to the throne he found himself a catspaw between his natural
+brothers and ambitious nobles. His nearest relatives were ever his
+bitterest enemies, and he was continually betrayed by those he trusted;
+even his mother delivered to the rebellious peers the strongholds and
+the treasures he had left in her charge and caused him to be taken
+prisoner. As a boy he had been violent and impetuous, yet always loyal:
+but before he was twenty he became suspicious and mistrustful; in his
+weakness he made craft and perfidy his weapons, practising to compose
+his face, to feign forgetfulness of injury till the moment of vengeance;
+he learned to dissemble so that none could tell his mind, and treated no
+courtiers with greater favour than those upon whose death he had already
+determined.
+
+Intermingled with this career of vice and perfidy and bloodshed is the
+love of Maria de Padilla, whom the king met when he was eighteen, and
+till her death loved passionately--with brief inconstancies, for
+fidelity has never been a royal virtue; and she figures with gentle
+pathos in that grim history like wild perfumed flowers on a storm-beaten
+coast. After the assassination of the unfortunate Blanche, the French
+Queen whom he loathed with an extraordinary physical repulsion, Pedro
+acknowledged a secret marriage with Maria de Padilla, which legitimised
+her children; but for ten years before she had been treated with royal
+rights. The historian says that she was very beautiful, but her especial
+charm seems to have been that voluptuous grace which is characteristic
+of Andalusian women. She was simple and pious, with a nature of great
+sweetness, and she never abused her power; her influence, as runs the
+hackneyed phrase, was always for good, and untiringly she did her
+utmost to incline her despot lover to mercy. She alone sheds a ray of
+light on Pedro's memory, only her love can save him from the execration
+of posterity. When she died rich and poor alike mourned her, and the
+king was inconsolable. He honoured her with pompous obsequies, and
+throughout the kingdom ordered masses to be sung for the rest of her
+soul.
+
+* * *
+
+The guardians of the Alcazar show you the chambers in which dwelt this
+gracious lady, and the garden-fountain wherein she bathed in summer.
+Moralists, anxious to prove that the way of righteousness is hard, say
+that beauty dies, but they err, for beauty is immortal. The habitations
+of a lovely woman never lose the enchantment she has cast over them, her
+comeliness lingers in their empty chambers like a subtle odour; and
+centuries after her very bones have crumbled to dust it is her presence
+alone that is felt, her footfall that is heard on the marble floors.
+
+Garish colours, alas! have driven the tender spirit of Maria de Padilla
+from the royal palace, but it has betaken itself to the old garden, and
+there wanders sadly. It is a charming place of rare plants and exotic
+odours; cypress and tall palm trees rise towards the blue sky with their
+irresistible melancholy, their far-away suggestion of burning deserts;
+and at their feet the ground is carpeted with violets. Yet to me the
+wild roses brought strangely recollections of England, of long summer
+days when the air was sweet and balmy; the birds sang heavenly songs,
+the same songs as they sing in June in the fat Kentish fields. The
+gorgeous palace had only suggested the long past days of history, and
+Seville the joy of life and the love of sunshine; but the old quiet
+garden took me far away from Spain, so that I longed to be again in
+England. In thought I wandered through a garden that I knew in years
+gone by, filled also with flowers, but with hollyhocks and jasmine; the
+breeze carried the sweet scent of the honeysuckle to my nostrils, and I
+looked at the green lawns, with the broad, straight lines of the
+grass-mower. The low of cattle reached my ears, and wandering to the
+fence I looked into the fields beyond; yellow cows grazed idly or lay
+still chewing the cud; they stared at me with listless, sleepy eyes.
+
+But I glanced up and saw a flock of wild geese flying northwards in long
+lines that met, making two sides of a huge triangle; they flew quickly
+in the cloudless sky, far above me, and presently were lost to view.
+About me was the tall box-wood of the southern garden, and tropical
+plants with rich flowers of yellow and red and purple. A dark fir-tree
+stood out, ragged and uneven, like a spirit of the North, erect as a
+life without reproach; but the foliage of the palms hung down with a
+sad, adorable grace.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+[Sidenote: Calle de las Sierpes]
+
+
+In Seville the Andalusian character thrives in its finest flower; and
+nowhere can it be more conveniently studied than in the narrow, sinuous,
+crowded thoroughfare which is the oddest street in Europe. The Calle de
+las Sierpes is merely a pavement, hardly broader than that of
+Piccadilly, without a carriage-way. The houses on either side are very
+irregular; some are tall, four-storeyed, others quite tiny; some are
+well kept and freshly painted, others dilapidated. It is one of the
+curiosities of Seville that there is no particularly fashionable
+quarter; and, as though some moralising ruler had wished to place before
+his people a continual reminder of the uncertainty of human greatness,
+by the side of a magnificent palace you will find a hovel.
+
+At no hour of the day does the Calle de las Sierpes lack animation, but
+to see it at its best you must go towards evening, at seven o'clock, for
+then there is scarcely room to move. Fine gentlemen stand at the club
+doors or sit within, looking out of the huge windows; the merchants and
+the students, smoking cigarettes, saunter, wrapped magnificently in
+their capos. Cigarette-girls pass with roving eyes; they suffer from no
+false modesty and smile with pleasure when a compliment reaches their
+ears. Admirers do not speak in too low a tone and the fair Sevillan is
+never hard of hearing.
+
+Newspaper boys with shrill cries announce evening editions: '_Porvenir!_
+_Noticiero!_' Vendors of lottery-tickets wander up and down, audaciously
+offering the first prize: '_Quien quiere el premio gardo?_' Beggars
+follow you with piteous tales of fasts improbably extended. But most
+striking is the _gente flamenca_, the bull-fighter, with his numerous
+hangers-on. The _toreros_--toreador is an unknown word, good for comic
+opera and persons who write novels of Spanish life and cannot be
+bothered to go to Spain--the _toreros_ sit in their especial cafe, the
+_Cerveceria National_, or stand in little groups talking to one another.
+They are distinguishable by the _coleta_, which is a little plait of
+hair used to attach the chignon of full-dress: it is the dearest
+ambition of the aspirant to the bull-ring to possess this ornament; he
+grows it as soon as he is full-fledged, and it is solemnly cut off when
+the weight of years and the responsibility of landed estates induce him
+to retire from the profession. The bull-fighter dresses peculiarly and
+the _gente flamenca_, imitates him so far as its means allow. A famous
+_matador_ is as well paid as in England a Cabinet Minister or a
+music-hall artiste. This is his costume: a broad-brimmed hat with a low
+crown, which is something like a topper absurdly flattened down, with
+brims preposterously broadened out. The front of his shirt is befrilled
+and embroidered, and his studs are the largest diamonds; not even
+financiers in England wear such important stones. He wears a low collar
+without a necktie, but ties a silk handkerchief round his neck like an
+English navvy; an Eton jacket, fitting very tightly, brown, black, or
+grey, with elaborate frogs and much braiding; the trousers, skin-tight
+above, loosen below, and show off the lower extremities when, like the
+heroes of feminine romance, the wearer has a fine leg. Indeed, it is a
+mode of dress which exhibits the figure to great advantage, and many of
+these young men have admirable forms.
+
+In their strong, picturesque way they are often very handsome. They have
+a careless grace of gesture, a manner of actors perfectly at ease in an
+effective part, a brutal healthiness; there is a flamboyance in their
+bearing, a melodramatic swagger, which is most diverting. And their
+faces, so contrasted are the colours, so strongly marked the features,
+are full of interest. Clean shaven, the beard shows violet through the
+olive skin; they have high cheek bones and thin, almost hollow cheeks,
+with eyes set far back in the sockets, dark and lustrous under heavy
+brows. The black hair, admirably attached to the head, is cut short;
+shaved on the temples and over the ears, brushed forward as in other
+countries is fashionable with gentlemen of the box: it fits the skull
+like a second, tighter skin. The lips are red and sensual, the teeth
+white, regular and well shaped. The bull-fighter is remarkable also for
+the diamond rings which decorate his fingers and the massive gold, the
+ponderous seals, of his watch-chain.
+
+Who can wonder then that maidens fair, their hearts turning to thoughts
+of love, should cast favourable glances upon this hero of a hundred
+fights? The conquests of tenors and grand-dukes and fiddlers are
+insignificant beside those of a bull-fighter; and the certainty of
+feminine smiles is another inducement for youth to exchange the drudgery
+of menial occupations for the varied excitement of the ring.
+
+* * *
+
+At night the Sierpes is different again. Little by little the people
+scatter to their various homes, the shops are closed, the clubs put out
+their lights, and by one the loiterers are few. The contrast is vivid
+between the noisy throng of day-time and this sudden stillness; the
+emptiness of the winding street seems almost unnatural. The houses,
+losing all variety, are intensely black; and above, the sinuous line of
+sky is brilliant with clustering stars. A drunken roysterer reels from a
+tavern-door, his footfall echoing noisily along the pavement, but
+quickly he sways round a corner; and the silence, more impressive for
+the interruption, returns. The night-watchman, huddled in a cloak of
+many folds, is sleeping in a doorway, dimly outlined by the yellow gleam
+of his lantern.
+
+Then I, a lover of late hours, returning, seek the _guardia_. Sevillan
+houses are locked at midnight by this individual, who keeps the
+latch-keys of a whole street, and is supposed to be on the look-out for
+tardy comers. I clap my hands, such being the Spanish way to attract
+attention, and shout; but he does not appear. He is a good-natured,
+round man, bibulous, with grey hair and a benevolent manner. I know his
+habits and resign myself to inquiring for him in the neighbouring
+dram-shops. I find him at last and assail him with all the abuse at my
+command; he is too tipsy to answer or to care, and follows me, jangling
+his keys. He fumbles with them at the door, blaspheming because they are
+so much alike, and finally lets me in.
+
+_'Buena noche. Descanse v bien.'_
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+[Sidenote: Characteristics]
+
+
+It is a hazardous thing to attempt the analysis of national character,
+for after all, however careful the traveller may be in his inquiries, it
+is from the few individuals himself has known that his most definite
+impressions are drawn. Of course he can control his observations by
+asking the opinion of foreigners long resident in the country; but
+curiously enough in Andalusia precisely the opposite occurs from what
+elsewhere is usual. Aliens in England, France, or Italy, with increasing
+comprehension, acquire also affection and esteem for the people among
+whom they live; but I have seldom found in Southern Spain a
+foreigner--and there are many, merchants, engineers and the like, with
+intimate knowledge of the inhabitants--who had a good word to say for
+the Andalusians.
+
+But perhaps it is in the behaviour of crowds that the most accurate
+picture of national character can be obtained. Like composite
+photographs which give the appearance of a dozen people together, but a
+recognisable portrait of none, the multitude offers as it were a
+likeness in the rough, without precision of detail yet with certain
+marked features more obviously indicated. The crowd is an individual
+without responsibility, unoppressed by the usual ties of prudence and
+decorum, who betrays himself because he lacks entirely
+self-consciousness and the desire to pose. In Spain the crowd is above
+all things good-humoured, fond of a joke so long as it is none too
+subtle, excitable of course and prone to rodomontade, yet practical,
+eager to make the best of things and especially to get its money's
+worth. If below the surface there are a somewhat brutal savagery, a
+cruel fickleness, these are traits common with all human beings together
+assembled; they are merely evidence of man's close relationship to ape
+and tiger.
+
+From contemporary novels more or less the same picture appears, and also
+from the newspapers, though in these somewhat idealised; for the Press,
+bound to flatter for its living, represents its patrons, as do some
+portrait-painters, not as they are but as they would like to be. In the
+eyes of Andalusian journalists their compatriots are for ever making a
+magnificent gesture; and the condition would be absurd if a hornet's
+nest of comic papers, tempering vanity with a lively sense of the
+ridiculous, did not save the situation by abundantly coarse caricatures.
+
+It is vanity then which emerges as the most distinct of national traits,
+a vanity so egregious, so childish, so grotesque, that the onlooker is
+astounded. The Andalusians have a passion for gorgeous raiment and for
+jewellery. They must see themselves continually in the brightest light,
+standing for ever on some alpine eminence of vice or virtue, in full
+view of their fellow men. Like schoolboys they will make themselves out
+desperate sinners to arouse your horror, and if that does not impress
+you, accomplished actors ready to suit your every mood, they will pose
+as saints than whom none more truly pious have existed on the earth.
+They are the Gascons of Spain, but beside them the Bordelais is a
+truthful, unimaginative creature.
+
+Next comes laziness. There is in Europe no richer soil than that of
+Andalusia, and the Arabs, with an elaborate system of irrigation,
+obtained three crops a year; but now half the land lies uncultivated,
+and immense tracts are planted only with olives, which, comparatively,
+entail small labour. But the inhabitants of this fruitful country are
+happy in this, that boredom is unknown to them; content to lie in the
+sun for hours, neither talking, thinking, nor reading, they are never
+tired of idleness: two men will sit for half a day in a _cafe_, with a
+glass of water before them, not exchanging three remarks in an hour. I
+fancy it is this stolidness which has given travellers an impression of
+dignity; in their quieter moments they remind one of very placid sheep,
+for they have not half the energy of pigs, which in Spain at least are
+restless and spirited creatures. But a trifle will rouse them; and then,
+quite unable to restrain themselves, pallid with rage, they hurl abuse
+at their enemy--Spanish, they say, is richer in invective than any other
+European tongue--and quickly long knives are whipped out to avenge the
+affront.
+
+Universal opinion has given its verdict in an epithet: and just as many
+people speak of the volatile Frenchman, the stolid Dutchman, the amatory
+Italian, they talk of the proud Spaniard. But it is pride of a peculiar
+sort; a Sevillian with only the smallest claims to respectability would
+rather die than carry a parcel through the street; however poor, some
+one must perform for him so menial an office: and he would consider it
+vastly beneath his dignity to accept charity, though if he had the
+chance would not hesitate to swindle you out of sixpence. But in matters
+of honesty these good people show a certain discrimination. Your
+servants, for example, would hesitate to steal money, especially if
+liable to detection, but not to take wine and sugar and oil: which is
+proved by the freedom with which they discuss the theft among themselves
+and the calmness with which they acknowledge it when a wrathful master
+takes them in the act. The reasoning is, if you're such a fool as not to
+keep your things under lock and key you deserve to be robbed; and if
+dismissed for such a peccadillo they consider themselves very hardly
+used.
+
+Uncharitable persons, saying that a Spaniard will live for a week on
+bread and water duly to prepare himself for a meal at another's expense,
+accuse them of gluttony; but I have always found the Andalusians
+abstemious eaters, nor have I wondered at this, since Spanish food is
+abominable. But drunkards they often are. I should think as many people
+in proportion get drunk in Seville as in London, though it is only fair
+to add that their heads are not strong, and very little alcohol will
+produce in them an indecent exhilaration.
+
+But if the reader, because the Andalusians are slothful, truthless, but
+moderately honest, vain, concludes that they are an unattractive people
+he will grossly err. His reasoning, that moral qualities make pleasant
+companions, is quite false; on the contrary it is rigid principles and
+unbending character, strength of will and a decided sense of right and
+wrong, which make intercourse difficult. A sensitive conscience is no
+addition to the amenities of the dinner-table. But when a man is willing
+to counter a deadly sin with a shrug of the shoulders, when between
+white and black he can discover no insupportable contrast, the
+probabilities are that he will at least humour your whims and respect
+your prejudices. And so it is that the Andalusians make very agreeable
+acquaintance. They are free and amiable in their conversation, and will
+always say the thing that pleases rather than the brutal thing that is.
+They miss no opportunity to make compliments, which they do so well that
+at the moment you are assured these flattering remarks come from the
+bottom of their hearts. Very reasonably, they cannot understand why you
+should be disagreeable to a man merely because you rob him; to injury,
+unless their minds are clouded by passion, they have not the bad taste
+to add insult. Compare with these manners the British abhorrence of
+polite and complimentary speeches, especially if they happen to be true:
+the Englishman may hold you in the highest estimation, but wild horses
+will not drag from him an acknowledgment of the fact; whereby humanism
+and the general stock of self-esteem are notably diminished.
+
+Nothing can be more graceful than their mode of speech, for the very
+construction of the language conduces to courtesy. The Spaniards have
+also an oriental way of offering you things, placing themselves and
+their houses entirely at your disposal. If you remark on anything of
+theirs they beg you at once to take it. If you go into a pot-house where
+a peasant is dining on a plate of ham, a few olives, and a glass of
+wine, he will ask: '_Le gusta_,' 'Will you have some,' with a little
+motion of handing you his meal. Of course it would be an outrage to
+decorum to accept these generous offers, but that is beside the
+question; for good manners are not an affair of the heart, but a
+complicated game to be learned and played on either side with due
+attention to the rules. It may be argued that such details are not
+serious; but surely for the common round of life politeness is more
+necessary than any heroic qualities. We need our friends' self-sacrifice
+once in a blue moon, but their courtesy every day; and for my own part,
+I would choose the companions of my leisure rather for their good
+breeding than for the excellence of their dispositions.
+
+Beside this, however, the Andalusians are much attached to children, and
+it is pleasant to see the real fondness which exists between various
+members of a family. One singular point I have noted, that although the
+Spanish marry for love rather than from convenience, a wife puts
+kindred before husband, her affection remaining chiefly where it was
+before marriage. But if the moralist desires yet more solid virtues, he
+need only inquire of the first Sevillan he meets, who will give at
+shortest notice, in choice and fluent language, a far more impressive
+list than I could ever produce.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+[Sidenote: Don Juan Tenorio]
+
+
+On its own behalf each country seems to choose one man, historical or
+imaginary, to stand for the race, making as it were an incarnation of
+all the virtues and all the vices wherewith it is pleased to charge
+itself; and nothing really better explains the character of a people
+than their choice of a national hero. Fifty years ago John Bull was the
+typical Englishman. Stout, rubicund and healthy, with a loud voice and a
+somewhat aggressive manner, he belonged distinctly to the middle
+classes. He had a precise idea of his rights and a flattering opinion of
+his merits; he was peaceable, but ready enough to fight for commercial
+advantages, or if roused, for conscience sake. And when this took place
+he possessed always the comforting assurance that the Almighty was on
+his side; he put his faith without hesitation on the Bible and on the
+superiority of the English Nation. For foreigners he had a magnificent
+contempt and distinguished between them and monkeys only by a certain
+mental effort. Art he thought nasty, literature womanish; he was a Tory,
+middle-aged and well-to-do.
+
+But nowadays all that is changed; John Bull, having amassed great
+wealth, has been gathered to his fathers and now disports himself in an
+early Victorian paradise furnished with horse-hair sofas and mahogany
+sideboards. His son reigns in his stead; and though perhaps not
+officially recognised as England's archetype, his appearance in novel
+and in drama, in the illustrated papers, in countless advertisements,
+proves the reality of his sway. It is his image that rests in the heart
+of British maidens, his the example that British youths industriously
+follow.
+
+But John Bull, Junior, has added his mother's maiden name to his own,
+and remembers with pleasure that he belongs to a good old county family.
+He has changed his address from Bedford Square to South Kensington, and
+has been educated at a Public School and at a University. Young, tall
+and fair-haired, there is nothing to suggest that he will ever have that
+inelegant paunch which prevented the father, even in his loftiest
+moments of moral indignation, from being dignified. Of course he is a
+soldier, for the army is still the only profession for a gentleman, and
+England's hero is that above all things. His morals are unexceptional,
+since to the ten commandments of Moses he has added the decalogue of
+good form. His clothes, whether he wears a Norfolk jacket or a frock
+coat, fit to perfection. He is a good shot, a daring rider, a
+serviceable cricketer. His heart beats with simple emotions, he will
+ever cheer at the sight of the Union Jack, and the strains of _Rule
+Britannia_ bring patriotic tears to his eyes. Of late, (like myself,) he
+has become an Imperialist. His intentions are always strictly
+honourable, and he would not kiss the tip of a woman's fingers except
+Hymen gave him the strictest rights to do so. If he became enamoured of
+a lady with whom such tender sentiments should not be harboured, he
+would invariably remember his duty at the psychological moment, and with
+many moving expressions renounce her: in fact he is a devil at
+renouncing women. I wonder it flatters them.
+
+Contrast with this pattern of excellence, eminently praiseworthy if
+somewhat dull, Don Juan Tenorio, who stands in exactly the same relation
+to the Andalusians as does John Bull to the English. He is a worthless,
+heartless creature, given over to the pursuit of emotion. The main
+lines of the story are well known. The legend, so far as Seville is
+concerned, (industrious persons have found analogues throughout the
+world,) appears to be founded on fact. There actually lived a Comendador
+de Calatrava who was killed by Don Juan after the abduction of his
+daughter. The perfect amorist, according to the _Cronica de Sevilla_,
+was then inveigled into the church where lay his enemy and assassinated
+by the Franciscans, who spread the pious fiction that the image of his
+victim, descending from its pedestal, had itself exacted vengeance. It
+was an unfortunate invention, for the catastrophe has proved a
+stumbling-block to all that have dealt with the subject. The Spaniards
+of Molina's day may not have minded the clumsy _deus ex machina_, but
+later writers have been able to make nothing of it. In Molière's play,
+for instance, the grotesque statue is absurdly inapposite, for his Don
+Juan is a wit and a cynic, a courtier of Louis XIV., with whose sins
+avenging gods are out of all proportion. Love for him is an intellectual
+exercise and a pastime. 'Constancy,' he says, 'is only good for fools.
+We owe ourselves to pretty women in general, and the mere fact of having
+met one does not absolve us from our duty to others. The birth of
+passion has an inexplicable charm, and the pleasure of love is in
+variety.' And Zorilla, whose version is the most poetic of them all, has
+succeeded in giving only a ridiculous exhibition of waxworks.
+
+But the monk, Tirso de Molina, who was the first to apply literary form
+to the legend, alone gives the character in its primitive simplicity. He
+drew the men of his time; and his compatriots, recognising themselves,
+have made the work immortal. For Spain, at all events, the type has been
+irrevocably fixed. Don Juan Tenorio was indeed a Spaniard of his age, a
+man of turbulent instincts, with a love of adventure and a fine contempt
+for danger, of an overwhelming pride; careful of his own honour, and
+careless of that of others. He looked upon every woman as lawful prey
+and hesitated at neither perjury nor violence to gain his ends; despair
+and tears left him indifferent. Love for him was purely carnal, with
+nothing of the timid flame of pastoral romance, nor of the chivalrous
+and metaphysic passion of Provence; it was a fierce, consuming fire
+which quickly burnt itself out. He was a vulgar and unoriginal seducer
+who stole favours in the dark by pretending to be the lady's chosen
+lover, or induced guileless maids to trust him under promise of
+marriage, then rode away as fast as his horse could carry him. The
+monotony of his methods and their success are an outrage to the
+intelligence of the sex. But for all his scoffing he remained a true
+Catholic, devoutly believing that the day would come when he must
+account for his acts; and he proposed, when too old to commit more sins,
+to repent and make his peace with the Almighty.
+
+It is significant that the Andalusians have thus chosen Don Juan
+Tenorio, for he is an abstract, with the lines somewhat subdued by the
+advance of civilisation, of the national character. For them his vices,
+his treachery, his heartlessness, have nothing repellent; nor does his
+inconstancy rob him of feminine sympathy. He is, indeed, a far greater
+favourite with the ladies than John Bull. The Englishman they respect,
+they know he will make a good husband and a model father; but he is too
+monogamous to arouse enthusiasm.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+[Sidenote: Women of Andalusia]
+
+
+It is meet and just that the traveller who desires a closer acquaintance
+with the country wherein he sojourns than is obtained by the Cockney
+tripper, should fall in love. The advantages of this proceeding are
+manifold and obvious. He will acquire the language with a more rapid
+facility; he will look upon the land with greater sympathy and hence
+with sharper insight; and little particularities of life will become
+known to him, which to the dreary creature who surveys a strange world
+from the portico of an expensive hotel, must necessarily lie hid. If I
+personally did not arrive at that delectable condition the fault is with
+the immortal gods rather than with myself; for in my eagerness to learn
+the gorgeous tongue of Calderon and of Cervantes, I placed myself
+purposely in circumstances where I thought the darts of young Cupid
+could never fail to miss me. But finally I was reduced to Ollendorf's
+Grammar. However, these are biographical details of interest to none but
+myself; they are merely to serve as preface for certain observations
+upon the women whom the traveller in the evening sees hurrying through
+the Sierpes on their way home.
+
+Human beauty is the most arbitrary of things, and the Englishman,
+accustomed to the classic type of his own countrywomen, will at first
+perhaps be somewhat disappointed with the excellence of Spain. It
+consists but seldom in any regularity of feature, for their appeal is to
+the amorist rather than to the sculptor in marble. Their red lips carry
+suggestions of burning kisses, so that his heart must be hard indeed who
+does not feel some flutterings at their aspect. The teeth are small,
+very white, regular. Face and body, indeed, are but the expression of a
+passionate nature.
+
+But when I write of Spanish women I think of you, Rosarito; I find
+suddenly that it is no impersonal creature that fills my mind, but
+you--you! When I state solemnly that their greatest beauty lies in their
+hair and eyes, it is of you I think; it is your dark eyes that were
+lustrous, soft as velvet, caressing sometimes, and sometimes sparkling
+with fiery glances. (Alas! that I can find but hackneyed phrases to
+describe those heart-disturbers!) And when I say that the eyebrows of a
+Spanish woman are not often so delicately pencilled as with many an
+English girl, I remember that yours were thick; and the luxuriance gave
+you a certain tropical and savage charm. And your hair was plentiful and
+curling, intensely black; I believe it was your greatest care in life.
+Don't you remember how often you explained to me that nothing was so
+harmful as to brush it, and how proud you were that it hung in glorious
+locks to your very knees?
+
+Hardly any girl in Seville is too poor to have a _peinadora_ to do her
+hair; and these women go from house to house, combing and arranging the
+coiffure for such infinitesimal sums as half a _real_, which is little
+more than a penny.
+
+Again I try to be impersonal. The complexion ranges through every
+quality from dark olive to pearly white; but yours, Rosarito, was like
+the very finest ivory, a perfect miracle of delicacy and brilliance; and
+the blood in the cheeks shone through with a rich, soft red. I used to
+think it was a colour by itself, not to be found on palettes, the
+carnation of your cheeks, Rosarito. And none could walk with such
+graceful dignity as you; it was a pleasure to watch your perfect ease,
+your self-command. Your feet, I think, were somewhat long; but your
+hands were wonderful, very small, admirably modelled, with little
+tapering fingers, and the most adorable filbert nails. Don't you
+remember how I used to look at them, and turn them over and discuss them
+point by point? And if ever I kissed their soft, warm palms, (I think it
+possible, though I have no vivid recollections,) remember that I was
+twenty-three; and it was certainly an appropriate gesture in the little
+comedy which to our mutual entertainment we played so gravely.
+
+Now, as I write, my heart goes pit-a-pat, thinking of you, Rosarito; and
+I'm sure that if we had over again that charming time, I should fall
+head over ears in love. Oh, you know we were both fibbing when we vowed
+we adored one another; I am a romancer by profession, and you by nature.
+We parted joyously, and you had the grace not to force a tear, and
+neither of our hearts was broken. Where are you now, I wonder; and do
+you ever think of me?
+
+* * *
+
+The whole chapter of Andalusian beauty is unfolded in the tobacco
+factory at Seville. Six thousand women work there, at little tables
+placed by the columns which uphold the roof; they are of all ages, of
+all types; plain, pretty, commonplace, beautiful; and ten, perhaps, are
+lovely. The gipsies are disappointing, not so comely as the pure
+Spaniards; and they attract only by the sphinx-like mystery of their
+copper-coloured skin, by their hard, unfathomable eyes.
+
+The Sevillans are perhaps inclined to stoutness, but that is a charm in
+their lover's sight, and often have a little down on the upper lip, than
+which, when it amounts to no more than a shadow, nothing can be more
+enchanting. They look with malicious eyes as you saunter through room
+after room in the factory; it is quite an experience to run the gauntlet
+of their numerous tongues, making uncomplimentary remarks about your
+person, sometimes to your embarrassment offering you the carnation from
+their hair, or other things. Their clothes are suspended to the pillars,
+and their costume in summer is more adapted for coolness than for the
+inspection of decorous foreigners. They may bring with them babies, and
+many a girl will have a cradle by her side, which she rocks with one
+foot as her fingers work nimbly at the cigarettes.
+
+They are very oriental, these women with voluptuous forms; they have no
+education, and with all their charm are unutterably stupid; they do not
+read, and find even newspapers tiresome! Those whose circumstances do
+not force them to work for their living, love nothing better than to lie
+for long hours on a sofa, neither talking nor thinking, in easy gowns,
+untrammelled by tight-fitting things. In the morning they put on a
+_mantilla_ and go to mass, and besides, except to pay a polite visit on
+a friend or to drive in the Paseo, hardly leave the house. They are
+content with the simplest life. They adore their children, and willingly
+devote themselves entirely to them; they seem never to be bored.
+
+For them the days must come and go without distinction. Their fleeting
+beauty leaves them imperceptibly; they grow fat, they grow thin,
+wrinkled, and gaunt; the years pass and their life proceeds without
+change. They do not think, they do not live: they merely exist, and they
+die, and that is the end of it. I suppose they are as happy as any one
+else. After all, taking it from one point of view, it matters very
+little what sort of life one leads, there are so many people in the
+world, such millions have come and gone, such millions will come and go.
+If an individual makes no use of his hour what does it signify? He is
+only one among countless hordes. In the existence of these handsome
+creatures, so passionate and yet so apathetic, there are no particular
+pleasures beside the simple joys of sense, but on the other hand, beyond
+the inevitable separations of death, there are no outstanding griefs.
+They propagate their species, and that, perhaps, is the only quite
+certain duty that human beings have.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+[Sidenote: The Dance]
+
+
+Cervantes said that there was never born a Spanish woman but she was
+made to dance; and he might have added that in the South, at all events,
+most men share the enviable faculty. The dance is one of the most
+characteristic features of Andalusia, and as an amusement rivals in
+popularity even the bull-fight. The Sevillans dance on every possible
+occasion, and nothing pleases them more than the dexterity of
+professionals. Before a company has been assembled half an hour some one
+is bound to suggest that a couple should show their skill; room is
+quickly made, the table pushed against the wall, the chairs drawn back,
+and they begin. Even when men are alone in a tavern, drinking wine, two
+of them will often enough stand up to tread a _seguidilla_. On a rainy
+day it is the entertainment that naturally recommends itself.
+
+Riding through the villages round Seville on Sundays it delighted me to
+see little groups making a circle about the house doors, in the middle
+of which were dancing two girls in bright-coloured clothes, with roses
+in their hair. A man seated on a broken chair was twanging a guitar, the
+surrounders beat their hands in time and the dancers made music with
+their castanets. Sometimes on a feast-day I came across a little band,
+arrayed in all its best, that had come into the country for an
+afternoon's diversion, and sat on the grass in the shade of summer or in
+the wintry sun. Whenever Andalusians mean to make merry some one will
+certainly bring a guitar, or if not the girls have their castanets; and
+though even these are wanting and no one can be induced to sing, a
+rhythmical clapping of hands will be sufficient accompaniment, and the
+performers will snap their fingers in lieu of castanets.
+
+It is charming then to see the girls urge one another to dance; each
+vows with much dramatic gesture that she cannot, calling the Blessed
+Virgin to witness that she has strained her ankle and has a shocking
+cold. But some youth springs up and volunteers, inviting a particular
+damsel to join him. She is pushed forward, and the couple take their
+places. The man carefully puts down his cigarette, jams his
+broad-brimmed hat on his head, buttons his short coat and arches his
+back! The spectators cry: '_Ole!_' The girl passes an arranging hand
+over her hair. The measure begins. The pair stand opposite one another,
+a yard or so distant, and foot it in accordance with one another's
+motions. It is not a thing of complicated steps, but, as one might
+expect from its Moorish origin, of movements of the body. With much
+graceful swaying from side to side the executants approach and retire,
+and at the middle of the dance change positions. It finishes with a
+great clapping of hands, the maiden sinks down among her friends and
+begins violently to fan herself, while her partner, with a great
+affectation of nonchalance, takes a seat and relights his cigarette.
+
+And in the music-halls the national dances are, with the national songs,
+the principal attraction. Seville possesses but one of these
+establishments; it is a queer place, merely the _patio_ of a private
+house, with a stage at one end, in which chairs and tables have been
+placed. On holiday nights it is crammed with students, with countrymen
+and artisans, with the general riff-raff of the town, and with women of
+no particular reputation. Now and then appears a gang of soldiers,
+giving a peculiar note with the uniformity of their brown holland suits;
+and occasionally a couple of British sailors come sauntering in with
+fine self-assurance, their fair hair and red cheeks contrasting with the
+general swartness. You pay no entrance money, but your refreshment costs
+a _real_--which is twopence ha'penny; and for that you may enjoy not
+only a cup of coffee or a glass of manzanilla, but an evening's
+entertainment. As the night wears on the heat is oven-like, and the air
+is thick and grey with the smoke of countless cigarettes.
+
+The performance consists of three 'turns' only, and these are repeated
+every hour. The company boasts generally of a male singer, a female
+singer, and of the _corps de ballet_, which is made up of six persons.
+Spain is the stronghold of the out-of-date, and I suppose it alone
+preserves the stiff muslin ballet-skirts which delighted our fathers. To
+see half-a-dozen dancers thus attired in a remote Andalusian music-hall
+is so entirely unexpected that it quite takes the breath away. But by
+the time the traveller reaches Seville he must be used to disillusion,
+and he must be ingenuous indeed if he expects the Spaniards to have
+preserved their national costume for the most national of their
+pastimes. Yet the dances are still Spanish; and even if the pianoforte
+has ousted the guitar, the castanets give, notwithstanding, a
+characteristic note which the aggressive muslin and the pink,
+ill-fitting tights cannot entirely destroy.
+
+* * *
+
+But I remember one dancer who was really a great artist. She was
+ill-favoured, of middle age, thin; but every part of her was imbued with
+grace, expressive, from the tips of her toes to the tips of her fingers.
+The demands of the public sometimes forced upon her odious
+ballet-skirts, sometimes she wasted her talent on the futilities of
+skirt-dancing; but chiefly she loved the national measures, and her
+phenomenal leanness made her only comfortable in the national dress. She
+travelled from place to place in Spain with another woman whom she had
+taught to dance, and whose beauty she used cleverly as a foil to her own
+uncomeliness; and so wasted herself in these low resorts, earning hardly
+sufficient to keep body and soul together. I wish I could remember her
+name.
+
+When she began to dance you forgot her ugliness; her gaunt arms gained
+shape, her face was transfigured, her dark eyes flashed, and her mouth
+and smile said a thousand eloquent things. Even the nape of her neck,
+which in most women has no significance, with her was expressive. A
+consummate actress, she exhibited all her skill in the _bolero_, which
+represents a courtship; she threw aside the castanets and wrapped
+herself in a _mantilla_, while her companion, dressed as a man, was
+hidden in a _capa_. The two passed one another, he trying to see the
+lady's face, which she averted, but not too strenuously; he pursued, she
+fled, but not too rapidly. Dropping his cloak, the lover attacked with
+greater warmth, while alternately she repelled and lured him on. At last
+she too cast away the _mantilla_. They seized the castanets and danced
+round one another with all manner of graceful and complicated
+evolutions, making love, quarrelling, pouting, exhibiting every variety
+of emotion. The dance grew more passionate, the steps flew faster, till
+at last, with the music, both stopped suddenly dead still. This abrupt
+cessation is one of the points most appreciated by a Spanish audience.
+'_Ole!_' they cry,'_bien parado!_'
+
+But when, unhampered by a partner, this nameless, exquisite dancer gave
+full play to her imagination, there was no end to the wildness of her
+fancy, to the intricacy and elaboration of her measures, to the gay
+audacity of her movements. She performed a hundred feats, each more
+difficult than the other--and all impossible to describe.
+
+* * *
+
+Then, between Christmas and Lent, at midnight on Saturdays and Sundays,
+the tables and the chairs are cleared away for the masked ball; and you
+will see the latest mode of Spanish dance. The women are of the lowest
+possible class; some, with a kind of savage irony, disguised as nuns,
+others in grotesque dominos of their own devising; but most wear
+every-day clothes with great shawls draped about them. The men are of a
+corresponding station, and through the evening wear their broad-brimmed
+hats. On the stage is a brass band, which plays one single tune till
+day-break, and to that one single measure is danced--the _habanera_.
+
+In this alone may people take part as in any round dance. The couples
+hold one another in the very tightest embrace, the lady clasping her
+arms round her partner's neck, while he places both his about her waist.
+They go round the room very slowly, immediately behind one another; it
+is a kind of straight polka, with a peculiar, rhythmic swaying of the
+body; the feet are not lifted off the floor, and you do not turn at all.
+The highest gravity is preserved throughout, and the whole performance
+is--well, very oriental.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+[Sidenote: A Feast Day]
+
+
+I arrived in Seville on the Eve of the Immaculate Conception. All day
+people had been preparing to celebrate the feast, decorating their
+houses with great banners of blue and white; and at night the silent,
+narrow streets had a strange appearance, for in every window were
+lighted candles, throwing around them a white, unusual glare; they
+looked a little like the souls of infants dead. All day the bells of a
+hundred churches had been ringing, half drowned by the rolling peals of
+the Giralda.
+
+It had been announced that the archbishop would himself officiate at the
+High Mass in the Blessed Virgin's honour; and early in the morning the
+cathedral steps were crowded with black-robed women, making their way to
+the great sacristy where was to be held the service. I joined the
+throng, and entering through the darkness of the porch, was almost
+blinded by the brilliant altar, upon which stood a life-sized image of
+the Virgin, surrounded by a huge aureole, with great bishops, all of
+silver, on either side. It was ablaze with the light of many candles, so
+that the nave was thrown into deep shadow, and the kneeling women were
+scarcely visible.
+
+The canons in the choir listlessly droned their prayers. At last the
+organ burst forth, and a long procession slowly came into the chapel,
+priests in white and blue, the colours of the Virgin, four bishops in
+mitres, the archbishop with his golden crozier; and preceding them all,
+in odd contrast, the beadle in black, with a dark periwig, bearing a
+silver staff. From the choir in due order they returned to the altar,
+headed this time by three pairs of acolytes, bearing great silver
+candlesticks, and by incense-burners, that filled the church with rich
+perfume.
+
+When the Mass was finished, a young dark man in copious robes of violet
+ascended the pulpit and muttered a text. He waited an instant to collect
+himself, looking at the congregation; then turning to the altar began a
+passionate song of praise to the Blessed Virgin, unsoiled by original
+sin. He described her as in a hundred pictures the great painter of the
+Immaculate Conception has portrayed her--a young and graceful maid,
+clothed in a snowy gown of ample folds, with an azure cloak, a maid
+mysteriously pure; her hair, floating on the shoulders in luxurious
+ringlets, was an aureole more glorious than the silver rays which
+surrounded the great image; her dark eyes, with their languid lashes,
+her mouth, with the red lips, expressed a beautiful and immaculate
+virtue. It might have been some earthly woman of whom the priest spoke,
+one of those Andalusians that knelt below him, flashing quick glances at
+the gallant who negligently leaned against a pillar.
+
+The archbishop sat on his golden throne--a thin, small man with a
+wrinkled face, with dead and listless eyes; in his gorgeous vestments
+he looked hardly human, he seemed a puppet, sitting stilly. At the end
+of the sermon he went back to the altar, and in his low, broken voice
+read the prayers. And then turning towards the great congregation he
+gave the plenary absolution, for which the Pope's Bull had been read
+from the pulpit steps.
+
+* * *
+
+In the afternoon, when the sun was going down behind the Guadalquivir,
+over the plain, I went again to the cathedral. The canons in the choir
+still droned their chant in praise of the Blessed Virgin, and in the
+greater darkness the altar shone more magnificently. The same procession
+filed through the nave, some priests were in black, some in violet, some
+in the Virgin's colours; but this time the archbishop wore gorgeous
+robes of scarlet, and as he knelt at the altar his train spread to the
+chancel steps. From the side appeared ten boys and knelt before the
+altar, and stood in two lines facing one another. They were dressed like
+pages of the seventeenth century, with white stockings and breeches, and
+a doublet of blue and silver, holding in their hands hats with long
+feathers. The archbishop, kneeling in front of the throne, buried his
+face in his hands.
+
+A soft melody, played by violins and 'cellos, broke the silence, and
+presently the ten pages began to sing:
+
+    _Los cielos y la tierra alaben al Señor_
+    _Con imnos de alabanza que inflamen al Señor._
+
+It was a curious, old-fashioned music, reminding one a little of the
+quiet harmonies of Gluck. Then, putting on their hats, the pages danced,
+continuing their song; they wound in and out of one another, gravely
+footing it, swaying to and fro with the music very slowly. The measure
+was performed with the utmost reverence. Now and then the chorus came,
+and the fresh boys' voices, singing in unison, filled the church with
+delightful melody. And still the old archbishop prayed, his face buried
+in his hands.
+
+The boys ceased to sing, but continued the dance, marking the time now
+with castanets, and the mundane instrument contrasted strangely with the
+glittering altar and with the kneeling priests. I wondered of what the
+archbishop thought, kneeling so humbly--of the boys dancing before the
+altar, fresh and young? Was he thinking of their white souls darkening
+with the sins of the world, or of the troubles, the disillusionments of
+life, and the decrepitude? Or was it of himself--did he think of his own
+youth, so long past, so hopelessly gone, or did he think that he was old
+and worn, and of the dark journey before him, and of the light that
+seemed so distant? Did he regret his beautiful Seville with the blue
+sky, and the orange-trees bowed down with their golden fruit? He seemed
+so small and weak, overwhelmed in his gorgeous robes.
+
+Again the ten boys repeated their song and dance and their castanets,
+and with a rapid genuflection disappeared.
+
+The archbishop rose painfully from his knees and ascended to the altar.
+A priest held open a book before him, and another lighted the printed
+page with a candle; he read out a prayer. Then, kneeling down, he bent
+very low, as though he felt himself unworthy to behold the magnificence
+of the Queen of Heaven. The people fell to their knees, and a man's
+voice burst forth--_Ave Maria, gratia plena_; waves of passionate sound
+floated over the worshippers, upwards, towards heaven. And from the
+Giralda, the Moorish tower, the Christian bells rang joyfully. The
+archbishop turned towards the people; and when in his thin, broken voice
+he gave the benediction, one thought that no man in his heart felt such
+humility as the magnificent prince of the Church, Don Marcelo Spinola y
+Maestre, Archbishop of Seville.
+
+The people flocked out quickly, and soon only a few devout penitents
+remained. A priest came, waving censers before the altar, and thick
+volumes of perfume ascended to the Blessed Virgin. He disappeared, and
+one by one the candles were extinguished. The night crept silently along
+the church, and the silver image sank into the darkness; at last two
+candles only were left on the altar, high up, shining dimly.
+
+Outside the sky was still blue, bespattered with countless stars.
+
+     NOTE.--I believe there is no definite explanation of this ceremony,
+     and the legend told me by an ancient priest that it was invented
+     during the Moorish dominion so that Christian services might be
+     held under cover of a social gathering--intruding Muslims would be
+     told merely that people were there assembled to see boys dance and
+     to listen to their singing--is more picturesque than probable.
+     Rather does it seem analogous with the leaping of David the King
+     before the Ark of Jehovah, when he danced before the Lord with all
+     his might, girt with a linen Ephod; and this, if I may hazard an
+     opinion, was with a view to amuse a deity apt to be bored or
+     languid, just as Nautch girls dance to this day before the idols of
+     the Hindus, and tops are spun before Krishna to divert him.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+[Sidenote: The Giralda]
+
+
+The Christian bells rang joyfully from the Moorish tower, the great old
+bells christened with holy oil, _el Cantor_ the Singer, _la Gorda_ the
+Great, _San Miguel_. I climbed the winding passage till I came to the
+terrace where stood the ringers, and as they pulled their ropes the
+bells swung round on their axles, completing a circle, with deafening
+clamour. The din was terrific, so that the solid masonry appeared to
+shake, and I felt the vibrations of the surrounding air. It was a
+strange sensation to shout as loud as possible and hear no sound issue
+from my mouth.
+
+The Giralda, with its Moorish base and its Christian belfry, is a symbol
+of Andalusia. There is in the Ayuntamiento an old picture of the Minaret
+built by Djâbir the Moor, nearly one hundred feet shorter than the
+completed tower, but surmounted by a battlemented platform on which are
+huge brazen balls and an iron standard. These were overthrown by an
+earthquake, and later, when the discoveries of Christopher Columbus had
+poured unmeasured riches into Seville, the Chapter commissioned Hernan
+Ruiz to add a belfry to the Moorish base. Hernan Ruiz nearly ruined the
+mosque at Cordova, but here he was entirely successful. Indeed it is
+extraordinary that the two parts should be joined in such admirable
+harmony. It is impossible to give in words an idea of the slender grace
+of the Giralda, it does not look a thing of bricks and mortar, it is so
+straight and light that it reminds one vaguely of some beautiful human
+thing. The great height is astonishing, there is no buttress or
+projection to break the very long straight line as it rises, with a kind
+of breathless speed, to the belfry platform. And then the renaissance
+building begins, ascending still more, a sort of filigree work,
+excessively rich, and elegant beyond all praise. It is surmounted by a
+female figure of bronze, representing Faith and veering with every
+breeze, and the artist has surrounded his work with the motto: _Nomen
+Domini Fortissima Turris_.
+
+But the older portion gains another charm from the Moorish windows that
+pierce it, one above the other, with horseshoe arches; and from the
+arabesque network with which the upper part is diapered, a brick
+trellis-work against the brick walls, of the most graceful and delicate
+intricacy. The Giralda is almost toylike in the daintiness of its
+decoration. Notwithstanding its great size it is a masterpiece of
+exquisite proportion. At night it stands out with strong lines against
+the bespangled sky, and the lights of the watchers give it a magic
+appearance of some lacelike tower of imagination; but on high festivals
+it is lit with countless lamps, and then, as Richard Ford puts it, hangs
+from the dark vault of heaven like a brilliant chandelier.
+
+I looked down at Seville from above. A Spanish town wears always its
+most picturesque appearance thus seen, but it is never different; the
+_patios_ glaring with whitewash, the roofs of brown and yellow tiles,
+and the narrow streets, winding in unexpected directions, narrower than
+ever from such a height and dark with shade, so that they seem black
+rivulets gliding stealthily through the whiteness. Looking at a northern
+city from a tall church tower all things are confused with one another,
+the slate roofs join together till it is like a huge uneven sea of grey;
+but in Seville the atmosphere is so limpid, the colour so brilliant,
+that every house is clearly separated from its neighbour, and sometimes
+there appears to be between them a preternatural distinctness. Each
+stands independently of any other; you might suppose yourself in a
+strange city of the _Arabian Nights_ where a great population lived in
+houses crowded together, but invisibly, so that each person fancied
+himself in isolation.
+
+Immediately below was the Cathedral and to remind you of Cordova, the
+Court of Oranges; but here was no sunny restfulness, nor old-world
+quiet. The Court is gloomy and dark, and the trim rows of orange-trees
+contrast oddly with the grey stone of the Cathedral, its huge porches,
+and the flamboyant exuberance of its decoration. The sun never shines in
+it and no fruit splash the dark foliage with gold. You do not think of
+the generations of priests who have wandered in it on the summer
+evenings, basking away their peaceful lives in the sunshine; but rather
+of the busy merchants who met there in the old days when it was still
+the exchange of Seville, before the Lonja was built, to discuss the war
+with England, or the fate of ships bringing gold from America. At one
+end of the court is an old stone pulpit from which preached St. Francis
+of Borga and St. Vincent Ferrer and many an unknown monk besides. Then
+it was thronged with multi-coloured crowds, with townsmen, soldiers and
+great noblemen, when the faith was living and strong; and the preacher,
+with all the gesture and the impassioned rhetoric of a Spaniard, poured
+out burning words of hate for Jew and Moor and Heretic, so that the
+listeners panted and a veil of blood passed before their eyes; or else
+uttered so eloquent a song in praise of the Blessed Virgin, immaculately
+conceived, that strong men burst into tears at the recital of her
+perfect beauty.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+[Sidenote: The Cathedral of Seville]
+
+
+Your first impression when you walk round the cathedral of Seville,
+noting with dismay the crushed cupolas and unsightly excrescences, the
+dinginess of colour, is not enthusiastic. It was built by German
+architects without a thought for the surrounding houses, brilliantly
+whitewashed, and the blue sky, and it proves the incongruity of northern
+art in a southern country; but even lowering clouds and mist could lend
+no charm to the late Gothic of _Santa Maria de la Sede_.
+
+The interior fortunately is very different. Notwithstanding the Gothic
+groining, as you enter from the splendid heat of noonday, (in the Plaza
+del Triunfo the sun beats down and the houses are more dazzling than
+snow,) the effect is thoroughly and delightfully Spanish. Light is very
+fatal to devotion and the Spaniards have been so wise as to make their
+churches extremely dark. At first you can see nothing. Incense floats
+heavily about you, filling the air, and the coolness is like a draught
+of fresh, perfumed water. But gradually the church detaches itself from
+the obscurity and you see great columns, immensely lofty. The spaces are
+large and simple, giving an impression of vast room; and the choir,
+walled up on three sides, in the middle of the nave as in all Spanish
+cathedrals, by obstructing the view gives an appearance of almost
+unlimited extent. To me it seems that in such a place it is easier to
+comprehend the majesty wherewith man has equipped himself. Science
+offers only thoughts of human insignificance; the vastness of the sea,
+the terror of the mountains, emphasise the fact that man is of no
+account, ephemeral as the leaves of summer. But in those bold aisles, by
+the pillars rising with such a confident pride towards heaven, it is
+almost impossible not to feel that man indeed is god-like, lord of the
+earth; and that the great array of nature is builded for his purpose.
+
+Typically Spanish also is the decoration, and very rich. The
+choir-stalls are of carved wood, florid and exuberant like the Spanish
+imagination; the altars gleam with gold; pictures of saints are framed
+by golden pillars carved with huge bunches of grapes and fruit and
+fantastic leaves. I was astounded at the opulence of the treasure; there
+were gorgeous altars of precious metal, great saints of silver, caskets
+of gold, monstrances studded with rare stones, crosses and crucifixes.
+The vestments were of unimaginable splendour: there were two hundred
+copes of all ages and of every variety, fifty of each colour, white for
+Christmas and Easter, red for Corpus Christi, blue for the Immaculate
+Conception, violet for Holy Week; there were the special copes of the
+Primate, copes for officiating bishops, copes for dignitaries from other
+countries and dioceses. They were of the richest velvet and satin,
+heavily embroidered with gold, many with saints worked in silk, so
+heavy that it seemed hardly possible for a man to bear them.
+
+In the Baptistery, filling it with warm light, is the _San Antonio_ of
+Murillo, than which no picture gives more intensely the religious
+emotion. The saint, tall and meagre, beautiful of face, looks at the
+Divine Child hovering in a golden mist with an ecstasy that is no longer
+human.
+
+It is interesting to consider whether an artist need feel the sentiment
+he desires to convey. Certainly many pictures have been painted under
+the influence of profound feeling which leave the spectator entirely
+cold, and it is probable enough that the early Italians felt few of the
+emotions which their pictures call forth. We know that the masterpieces
+of Perugino, so moving, so instinct with religious tenderness, were very
+much a matter of pounds, shillings and pence. But Luis de Vargas, on the
+other hand, daily humbled himself by scourging and by wearing a hair
+shirt, and Vicente Joanes prepared himself for a new picture by
+communion and confession; so that it is impossible to wonder at the rude
+and savage ardour of their work. And the impression that may be gathered
+of Murillo from his pictures is borne out by the study of his grave and
+simple life. He had not the turbulent piety of the other two, but a calm
+and sweet devotion, which led him to spend long hours in church,
+meditating. He, at any rate, felt all that he expressed.
+
+I do not know a church that gives the religious sentiment more
+completely than Seville Cathedral. The worship of the Spaniards is
+sombre, full-blooded, a thing of dark rich colours; it requires the
+heaviness of incense and that overloading of rococo decoration. It is
+curious that notwithstanding their extreme similarity to the
+Neapolitans, the Andalusians should in their faith differ so entirely.
+Of course, in Southern Italy religion is as full of superstition--an
+adoration of images in which all symbolism is lost and only the gross
+idol remains; but it is a gayer and a lighter thing than in Spain. Most
+characteristic of this is the difference between the churches; and with
+_Santa Maria de la Sede_ may well be contrasted the Neapolitan _Santa
+Chiara_, with its great windows, so airy and spacious, sparkling with
+white and gold. The paintings are almost frolicsome. It is like a
+ballroom, a typical place of worship for a generation that had no desire
+to pray, but strutted in gaudy silks and ogled over pretty fans,
+pretending to discuss the latest audacity of Monsieur Arouet de
+Voltaire.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+[Sidenote: The Hospital of Charity]
+
+
+The Spaniards possess to the fullest degree the art of evoking devout
+emotions, and in their various churches may be experienced every phase
+of religious feeling. After the majestic size and the solemn mystery of
+the Cathedral, nothing can come as a greater contrast than the Church of
+the Hermandad de la Caredad. It was built by don Miguel de Mañara, who
+rests in the chancel, with the inscription over him: '_Aqui jacen los
+huesos y ceñizas del peor hombre que ha habido en el mundo; ruegan por
+el_'--'Here lie the bones and ashes of the worst man that has ever been
+in the world; pray for him.' But like all Andalusians he was a braggart;
+for a love of chocolate, which appears to have been his besetting sin,
+is insufficient foundation for such a vaunt: a vice of that order is
+adequately punished by the corpulence it must occasion. However, legend,
+representing don Miguel as the most dissolute of libertines, is more
+friendly. The grave sister who escorts the visitor relates that one day
+in church don Miguel saw a beautiful nun, and undaunted by her habit,
+made amorous proposals. She did not speak, but turned to look at him,
+whereupon he saw the side of her face which had been hidden from his
+gaze, and it was eaten away by a foul and loathsome disease, so that it
+seemed more horrible than the face of death. The gallant was so
+terrified that he fainted, and afterwards the face haunted him, the face
+of matchless beauty and of revolting decay, so that he turned from the
+world. He devoted his fortune to rebuilding the hospital and church of
+the Brotherhood of Charity, whose chief office it was to administer the
+sacraments to those condemned to death and provide for their burial, and
+was eventually received into their Order.
+
+It was in the seventeenth century that Mañara built his church, and
+consequently rococo holds sway with all its fantasies. It is small,
+without aisles or chapels, and the morbid opulence of the decoration
+gives it a peculiar character. The walls are lined with red damask, and
+the floor carpeted with a heavy crimson carpet; it gives the sensation
+of a hothouse, or, with its close odours, of a bedchamber transformed
+into a chapel for the administration of the last sacrament. The
+atmosphere is unhealthy: one pants for breath.
+
+At one end, taking up the entire wall, is a reredos by Pedro Roldan, of
+which the centrepiece is an elaborate 'Deposition in the Tomb,' with
+numerous figures coloured to the life. It is very fine in its mingling
+of soft, rich hues and flamboyant realism. The artist has revelled in
+the opportunity for anguish of expression that his subject afforded, but
+has treated it with such a passionate seriousness that, in his grim,
+fierce way, he does not fail to be impressive. The frame is of twisted
+golden pillars, supported by little naked angels, and decorated with
+grapes and vine-leaves. Above and at the sides are great saints in
+carved wood, and angels with floating drapery.
+
+Murillo was on terms of intimacy with don Miguel de Mañara, and like him
+a member of the Hermandad. For his friend he painted some of his most
+famous pictures, which by the subdued ardour of their colour, by their
+opulent tones, harmonise most exquisitely with the church. Marshal
+Soult, with a fine love of art that was profitable, carried off several
+of them, and their empty frames stare at one still. But before that,
+when they were all in place, the effect must have been of unique
+magnificence.
+
+It must be an extraordinary religion that flourishes in such a place, an
+artificial faith that needs heat like tropical plants, that desires
+unnatural vows. It breathes of neurotic emotions with its damask-covered
+walls, with its carpet that deadens the footfall, its sombre, gorgeous
+pictures. The sweet breeze of heaven never enters there, nor the
+sunlight; the air is languid with incense; one is oppressed by a
+strange, heavy silence. In such a church sins must be fostered for the
+morbid pleasure of confession. One can imagine that the worshippers in
+that overloaded atmosphere would see strange visions, voluptuous and
+mystical; the Blessed Mary and the Saints might gain visible and
+palpable flesh, and the devil would not be far off. There the gruesome
+imaginings of Valdes Leal are a fitting decoration. Every one knows that
+grim picture of a bishop in episcopal robes, eaten by worms, his flesh
+putrefying, which led Murillo to say: 'Leal, you make me hold my nose,'
+and the other answered: 'You have taken all the flesh and left me
+nought but the bones.' Elsewhere, by the same master, there is a
+painting that suggests, with greater poignancy to my mind because less
+brutally, the thoughts evoked by the more celebrated work, and since it
+seems to complete the ideas awakened by this curious chapel, I mention
+it here.
+
+It represents a priest at the altar, saying his mass, and the altar
+after the Spanish fashion is sumptuous with gilt and florid carving. He
+wears a magnificent cope and a surplice of exquisite lace, but he wears
+them as though their weight were more than he could bear; and in the
+meagre, trembling hands, and in the white, ashen face, in the dark
+hollowness of the eyes and in the sunken cheeks, there is a bodily
+corruption that is terrifying. The priest seems to hold together with
+difficulty the bonds of the flesh, but with no eager yearning of the
+soul to burst its prison, only with despair; it is as if the Lord
+Almighty had forsaken him, and the high heavens were empty of their
+solace. All the beauty of life appears forgotten, and there is nothing
+in the world but decay. A ghastly putrefaction has attacked already the
+living man; the worms of the grave, the piteous horror of mortality, and
+the darkness before him offer nought but fear, and what soul is there to
+rise again! Beyond, dark night is seen and a turbulent sea, the dark
+night of the soul of which the mystics write, and the troublous sea of
+life whereon there is no refuge for the weary and the sick at heart.
+
+* * *
+
+Then, if you would study yet another phase of the religious sentiment,
+go to the Museo, where are the fine pictures that Murillo painted for
+the Capuchin Monastery. You will see all the sombreness of Spanish
+piety, the savage faith, dissolved into ineffable love. Religion has
+become a wonderful tenderness, in which passionate human affection is
+inextricably mingled with god-like adoration. Murillo, these sensual
+forms quivering with life, brought the Eternal down to earth, and gave
+terrestrial ardour to the apathy of an impersonal devotion; that,
+perhaps, is why to women he has always been the most fascinating of
+painters. In the _Madonna de la Servilleta_--painted on a napkin for the
+cook of the monastery--the child is a simple, earthly infant, fresh and
+rosy, with wide-open, wondering eyes and not a trace of immortality. I
+myself saw a common woman of the streets stand before this picture with
+tears running down her cheeks.
+
+'_Corazon de mi alma!_' she said, 'Heart of my soul! I could cover his
+little body with kisses.'
+
+She smiled, but could hardly restrain her sobs. The engrossing love of a
+mother for her child seemed joined in miraculous union with the worship
+of a mortal for his God.
+
+Murillo had neither the power nor the desire to idealise his models. The
+saints of these great pictures, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Felix of
+Cantalicio, St. Thomas of Villanueva, are monks and beggars such as may
+to this day be seen in the streets of Seville. St. Felix is merely an
+old man with hollow cheeks and a grey, ragged beard; but yet as he
+clasps the child in his arms with eager tenderness, he is transfigured
+by a divine ecstasy: his face is radiant with the most touching
+emotion. And St. Antony of Padua, in another picture, worships the
+infant God with a mystic adoration, which, notwithstanding the realism
+of the presentment, lifts him far, far above the earth.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+[Sidenote: Gaol]
+
+
+I was curious to see the prison in Seville. Gruesome tales had been told
+me of its filth and horror, and the wretched condition of the prisoners;
+I had even heard that from the street you might see them pressing
+against the barred windows with arms thrust through, begging the
+passer-by for money or bread. Mediæval stories recurred to my mind and
+the clank of chains trailed through my imagination.
+
+I arranged to be conducted by the prison doctor, and one morning soon
+after five set out to meet him. My guide informed me by a significant
+gesture that his tendencies were--bibulous, and our meeting-place was a
+tavern; but when we arrived they told us that don Felipe--such was his
+name--had been taken his morning dram and gone; however, if we went to
+another inn we should doubtless find him. But there we heard he had not
+yet arrived, he was not due till half-past five. To pass the time we
+drank a mouthful of _aguardiente_ and smoked a cigarette, and eventually
+the medico was espied in the distance. We went towards him--a round, fat
+person with a red face and a redder nose, somewhat shabbily dressed.
+
+He looked at me pointedly and said:
+
+'I'm dry. _Vengo seco._'
+
+It was a hint not to be neglected, and we returned to the tavern where
+don Felipe had his nip.
+
+'It's very good for the stomach,' he assured me.
+
+We sallied forth together, and as we walked he told me the number of
+prisoners, the sort of crimes for which they were detained--ranging from
+man-slaughter to petty larceny--and finally, details of his own career.
+He was an intelligent man, and when we came to the prison door insisted
+on drinking my health.
+
+The prison is an old convent, and it is a little startling to see the
+church façade, with a statue of the Madonna over the central porch. At
+the steps a number of women stood waiting with pots and jars and
+handkerchiefs full of food for their relatives within; and when the
+doctor appeared several rushed up to ask about a father or a son that
+lay sick. We went in and there was a melodramatic tinkling of keys and
+an unlocking of heavy doors.
+
+The male prisoners, the adults, were in the _patio_ of the convent,
+where in olden days the nuns had wandered on summer evenings, watering
+their roses. The iron door was opened and shut behind us; there was a
+movement of curiosity at the sight of a stranger, and many turned to
+look at me. Such as had illnesses came to the doctor, and he looked at
+their tongues and felt their pulse, giving directions to an assistant
+who stood beside him with a note-book. Don Felipe was on excellent terms
+with his patients, laughing and joking; a malingerer asked if he could
+not have a little wine because his throat was sore; the doctor jeered
+and the man began to laugh; they bandied repartees with one another.
+
+There were about two hundred in the _patio_, and really they did not
+seem to have so bad a time. There was one large group gathered round a
+man who read a newspaper aloud; it was Monday morning, and all listened
+intently to the account of a bull-fight on the previous day, bursting
+into a little cry of surprise and admiration on hearing that the
+_matador_ had been caught and tossed. Others lay by a pillar playing
+draughts for matches, while half a dozen more eagerly watched, giving
+unsolicited advice with much gesticulation. The draught-board consisted
+of little squares drawn on the pavement with chalk, and the pieces were
+scraps of white and yellow paper. One man sat cross-legged by a column
+busily rolling cigarettes; he had piles of them by his side arranged in
+packets, which he sold at one penny each; it was certainly an illegal
+offence, because the sale of tobacco is a government monopoly, but if
+you cannot break the laws in prison where can you break them? Others
+occupied themselves by making baskets or nets. But the majority did
+nothing at all, standing about, sitting when they could, with the
+eternal cigarette between their lips; and the more energetic watched the
+blue smoke curl into the air. Altogether a very happy family!
+
+Nor did they seem really very criminal, more especially as they wore no
+prison uniform, but their own clothes. I saw no difference between them
+and the people I met casually in the street. They were just very
+ordinary citizens, countrymen smelling of the soil, labouring men,
+artisans. Their misfortune had been only to make too free a use of their
+long curved knives or to be discovered taking something over which
+another had prior claims. But in Andalusia every one is potentially as
+criminal, which is the same as saying that these jail-birds were
+estimable persons whom an unkind fate and a mistaken idea of justice had
+separated for a little while from their wives and families.
+
+I saw two only whose aspect was distinctly vicious. One was a tall
+fellow with shifty eyes, a hard thin mouth, a cruel smile, and his face
+was really horrible. I asked the doctor why he was there. Don Felipe,
+without speaking, made the peculiar motion of the fingers which
+signifies robbery, and the man seeing him repeated it with a leer. I
+have seldom seen a face that was so utterly repellent, so depraved and
+wicked: I could not get it out of my head, and for a long time saw
+before me the crafty eyes and the grinning mouth. Obviously the man was
+a criminal born who would start thieving as soon as he was out of
+prison, hopelessly and utterly corrupt. But it was curious that his
+character should be marked so plainly on his face; it was a
+danger-signal to his fellows, and one would have thought the suspicion
+it aroused must necessarily keep him virtuous. It was a countenance that
+would make a man instinctively clap his hand to his pocket.
+
+The other was a Turk, a huge creature, with dark scowling face and
+prominent brows; he made a singular figure in his bright fez and baggy
+breeches, looking at his fellow prisoners with a frown of hate.
+
+But the doctor had finished seeing his patients and the iron door was
+opened for us to go out. We went upstairs to the hospital, a long bare
+ward, terribly cheerless. Six men, perhaps, lay in bed, guarded by two
+warders; one old fellow with rheumatism groaning in agony, two others
+dazed and very still, with high fever. We walked round quickly, don
+Felipe as before mechanically looking at their tongues and feeling their
+pulse, speaking a word to the assistant and moving on. The windows were
+shut and there was a horrid stench of illness and drugs and antiseptics.
+
+We went through long corridors to the female side, and meanwhile the
+assistant told the doctor that during the night a woman had been
+confined. Don Felipe sat down in an office to write a certificate.
+
+'What a nuisance these women are!' he said. 'Why can't they wait till
+they get out of prison? How is it?'
+
+'It was still-born.'
+
+'_Pero, hombre_,' said the doctor crossly. 'Why didn't you tell me that
+before? Now I shall have to write another certificate. This one's no
+good.'
+
+He tore it up and painfully made out a second with the slow laborious
+writing of a man unused to holding a pen.
+
+Then we marched on and came to another smaller _patio_ where the females
+were. They were comparatively few, not more than twenty or thirty; and
+when we entered a dark inner-room to see the woman who was ill they all
+trooped in after us--all but one. They stood round eagerly telling us of
+the occurrence.
+
+'Don't make such a noise, _por Dios_! I can't hear myself speak,' said
+the doctor.
+
+The woman was lying on her back with flushed cheeks, her eyes staring
+glassily. The doctor asked a question, but she did not answer. She began
+to cry, sobbing from utter weakness in a silent, unrestrained way. On a
+table near her, hidden by a cloth, lay the dead child.
+
+We went out again into the _patio_. The sun was higher now and it was
+very warm, the blue sky shone above us without a cloud. The prisoners
+returned to their occupations. One old hag was doing a younger woman's
+hair; I noticed that even for Spain it was beautiful, very thick,
+curling, and black as night. The girl held a carnation in her hand to
+put in front of the comb when the operation was completed. Another woman
+suckled a baby, and several tiny children were playing about happily,
+while their mothers chatted to one another, knitting.
+
+But there was one, markedly different from the others, who sat alone
+taking no notice of the scene. It was she who remained in the _patio_
+when the rest followed us into the sick room, a gipsy, tall and gaunt,
+with a skin of the darkest yellow. Her hair was not elaborately arranged
+as that of her companions, but plainly done, drawn back stiffly from the
+forehead. She sat there, erect and motionless, looking at the ground
+with an unnatural stare, silent. They told me she never spoke a word
+nor paid attention to the women in the court. She might have been
+entirely alone. She never altered her position, but sat there,
+sphinx-like, in that attitude of stony grief. She was a stranger among
+the rest, and her bronzed face, her silence gave a weird impression; she
+seemed to recall the burning deserts of the East and an endless past.
+
+At last we came out, and the heavy iron door was closed behind us. What
+a relief it was to be in the street again, to see the sun and the trees,
+and to breathe the free air! A cart went by with a great racket, drawn
+by three mules, and the cries of the driver as he cracked his whip were
+almost musical; a train of donkeys passed; a man trotted by on a brown
+shaggy cob, his huge panniers filled with glowing vegetables, green and
+red, and in a corner was a great bunch of roses. I took long breaths of
+the free air, I shook myself to get rid of those prison odours.
+
+I offered don Felipe refreshment and we repaired to a dram-shop
+immediately opposite. Two women were standing there.
+
+'_Ole!_' said the doctor to an old toothless hag with a vicious leer.
+'What are you doing here? You've not been in for some time.'
+
+She laughed and explained that she was come to fetch her friend, a young
+woman, who had been released that morning. The doctor nodded to her,
+asking how long she had been in gaol.
+
+'Two years and nine months,' she said.
+
+And she began to laugh hysterically with tears streaming down her
+cheeks.
+
+'I don't know what I'm doing,' she cried. 'I can't understand it.'
+
+She looked into the street with wild, yearning eyes; everything seemed
+to her strange and new.
+
+'I haven't seen a tree for nearly three years,' she sobbed.
+
+But the hag was pressing the doctor to drink with her; he accepted
+without much hesitation, and gallantly proposed her health.
+
+'What are you going to do?' he said to the younger woman, she was hardly
+more than a girl. 'You'd better not hang about in Seville or you'll get
+into trouble again.'
+
+'Oh no,' she said, 'I'm going to my village--_mi pueblo_--this
+afternoon. I want to see my husband and my child.'
+
+Don Felipe turned to me and asked what I thought of the Seville prison.
+I made some complimentary reply.
+
+'Are English prisons like that?' he asked.
+
+I said I did not think so.
+
+'Are they better?'
+
+I shrugged my shoulders.
+
+'I'm told,' he said, 'that two years' hard labour in an English prison
+kills a man.'
+
+'The English are a great nation,' I replied.
+
+'And a humane one,' he added, with a bow and a smile.
+
+I bade him good-morning.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+[Sidenote: Before the Bull-fight]
+
+
+If all Andalusians are potential gaol-birds they are also potential
+bull-fighters. It is impossible for foreigners to realise how firmly the
+love of that pastime is engrained in all classes. In other countries the
+gift that children love best is a box of soldiers, but in Spain it is a
+miniature ring with tin bulls, _picadors_ on horseback and _toreros_.
+From their earliest youth boys play at bull-fighting, one of them taking
+the bull's part and charging with the movements peculiar to that animal,
+while the rest make passes with their coats or handkerchiefs. Often, to
+increase the excitement of the game, they have two horns fixed on a
+piece of wood. You will see them playing it at every street corner all
+day long, and no amusement can rival it; with the result that by the
+time a boy is fifteen he has acquired considerable skill in the
+exercise, and a favourite entertainment then is to hire a bull-calf for
+an afternoon and practise with it. Every urchin in Andalusia knows the
+names of the most prominent champions and can tell you their merits.
+
+The bull-fight is the national spectacle; it excites Spaniards as
+nothing else can, and the death of a famous _torero_ is more tragic than
+the loss of a colony. Seville looks upon itself as the very home and
+centre of the art. The good king Ferdinand VII.--as precious a rascal as
+ever graced a throne--founded in Seville the first academy for the
+cultivation of tauromachy, and bull-fighters swagger through the Sierpes
+in great numbers and the most faultless costume.
+
+There are only five great bull-fights in a year at Seville, namely, on
+Easter day, on the three days of the fair, and on Corpus Christi. But
+during the summer _novilladas_ are held every Sunday, with bulls of
+three years old and young fighters. Long before an important _corrida_
+there is quite an excitement in the town. Gaudy bills are posted on the
+walls with the names of the performers and the proprietor of the bulls;
+crowds stand round reading them breathlessly, discussing with one
+another the chances of the fray; the papers give details and forecasts
+as in England they do for the better cause of horse-racing! And the
+journeyings of the _matador_ are announced as exactly as with us the
+doings of the nobility and gentry.
+
+The great _matador_, Mazzantini or Guerrita, arrives the day before the
+fight, and perhaps takes a walk in the Sierpes. People turn to look at
+him and acquaintances shake his hand, pleased that all the world may
+know how friendly they are with so great a man. The hero himself is calm
+and gracious. He feels himself a person of merit, and cannot be
+unconscious that he has a fortune of several million _pesetas_ bringing
+in a reasonable interest. He talks with ease and assurance, often
+condescends to joke, and elegantly waves his hand, sparkling with
+diamonds of great value.
+
+* * *
+
+Many persons have described a bull-fight, but generally their emotions
+have overwhelmed them so that they have seen only part of one
+performance, and consequently have been obliged to use an indignant
+imagination to help out a very faulty recollection. This is my excuse
+for giving one more account of an entertainment which can in no way be
+defended. It is doubtless vicious and degrading; but with the constant
+danger, the skill displayed, the courage, the hair-breadth escapes, the
+catastrophes, it is foolish to deny that any pastime can be more
+exciting.
+
+The English humanity to animals is one of the best traits of a great
+people, and they justly thank God they are not as others are. Can
+anything more horrid be imagined than to kill a horse in the bull-ring,
+and can any decent hack ask for a better end when he is broken down,
+than to be driven to death in London streets or to stand for hours on
+cab ranks in the rain and snow of an English winter? The Spaniards are
+certainly cruel to animals; on the other hand, they never beat their
+wives nor kick their children. From the dog's point of view I would ten
+times sooner be English, but from the woman's--I have my doubts. Some
+while ago certain papers, anxious perhaps to taste the comfortable joys
+of self-righteousness, turned their attention to the brutality of
+Spaniards, and a score of journalists wrote indignantly of bull-fights.
+At the same time, by a singular chance, a prize-fighter was killed in
+London, and the Spanish papers printed long tirades against the gross,
+barbaric English. The two sets of writers were equally vehement,
+inaccurate and flowery; but what seemed most remarkable was that each
+side evidently felt quite unaffected horror and disgust for the
+proceedings of the other. Like persons of doubtful character inveighing
+against the vices of the age, both were so carried away by moral
+enthusiasm as to forget that there was anything in their own histories
+which made this virtuous fury a little absurd. There is really a good
+deal in the point of view.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+[Sidenote: Corrida de Toros--I]
+
+
+On the day before a bull-fight all the world goes down to Tablada to see
+the bulls. Youth and beauty drive, for every one in Seville of the least
+pretension to gentility keeps a carriage; the Sevillans,
+characteristically, may live in houses void of every necessity and
+comfort, eating bread and water, but they will have a carriage to drive
+in the _paseo_. You see vehicles of all kinds, from the new landau with
+a pair of magnificent Andalusian horses, or the strange omnibus drawn by
+mules, typical of Southern Spain, to the shabby victoria, with a
+broken-down hack and a decrepit coachman.
+
+Tablada is a vast common without the town, running along the river side,
+and here all manner of cattle are kept throughout the year. But the
+fighting bulls are brought from their respective farms the morning
+before the day of battle, and each is put in an enclosure with its
+attendant oxen. The crowd looks eagerly, admiring the length of horn,
+forecasting the fight.
+
+The handsome brutes remain there till midnight, when they are brought to
+the ring and shut in little separate boxes till the morrow. The
+_encierro_, as it is called, is an interesting sight. The road has been
+palisaded and the bulls are driven along by oxen. It is very curious to
+wait in the darkness, in the silence, under the myriad stars of the
+southern night. Your ear is astrung to hear the distant tramp; the
+waiting seems endless. A sound is heard and every one runs to the side;
+but nothing follows, and the waiting continues. Suddenly the stillness
+is broken by tinkling bells, the oxen; and immediately there is a tramp
+of rushing hoofs. Three men on horseback gallop through the entrance,
+and on their heels the cattle; the riders turn sharply round, a door is
+swung to behind them, and the oxen, with the bulls in their midst, pound
+through the ring.
+
+* * *
+
+The doors are opened two hours before the performance. Through the
+morning the multitude has trooped to the Plaza San Fernando to buy
+tickets, and in the afternoon all Seville wends its way towards the
+ring. The road is thronged with people, they walk in dense crowds,
+pushing one another to get out of the way of broken-down shays that roll
+along filled with enthusiasts. The drivers crack their whips, shouting:
+'_Un real, un real a los Toros!_'{a} The sun beats down and the sky is
+intensely blue. It is very hot, already people are blowing and panting,
+boys sell fans at a halfpenny each. '_Abanicos a perra chica!_'{b}
+
+When you come near the ring the din is tremendous; the many vendors
+shout their wares, middlemen offer tickets at double the usual price,
+friends call to one another. Now and then is a quarrel, a quick exchange
+of abuse as one pushes or treads upon his neighbour; but as a rule all
+are astonishingly good-natured. A man, after a narrow escape from being
+run over, will shout a joke to the driver, who is always ready with a
+repartee. And they surge on towards the entrance. Every one is expectant
+and thrilled, the very air seems to give a sense of exhilaration. The
+people crowd in like ants. All things are gay and full of colour and
+life.
+
+A _picador_ passes on horseback in his uncouth clothes, and all turn to
+look at him.
+
+And in the ring itself the scene is marvellous. On one side the sun
+beats down with burning rays, and there, the seats being cheaper,
+notwithstanding the terrific heat people are closely packed. There is a
+perpetual irregular movement of thousands of women's fans fluttering to
+and fro. Opposite, in the shade, are nearly as many persons, but of
+better class. Above, in the boxes sit ladies in _mantillas_, and when a
+beautiful woman appears she is often greeted with a burst of applause,
+which she takes most unconcernedly. When at last the ring is full, tier
+above tier crammed so that not a place is vacant, it gives quite an
+extraordinary emotion. The serried masses cease then to be a collection
+of individuals, but gain somehow a corporate unity; you realise, with a
+kind of indeterminate fear, the many-headed beast of savage instincts
+and of ruthless might. No crowd is more picturesque than the Spanish,
+and the dark masculine costume vividly contrasts with the bright
+colours of the women, with flowers in their hair and _mantillas_ of
+white lace.
+
+But also the tremendous vitality of it all strikes you. Late arrivals
+walk along looking for room, gesticulating, laughing, bandying jokes;
+vendors of all sorts cry out their goods: the men who sell prawns,
+shrimps, and crabs' claws from Cadiz pass with large baskets: '_Bocas,
+bocas!_'
+
+The water sellers with huge jars: '_Agua, quien quiere agua? Agua!_'{c}
+The word sings along the interminable rows. A man demands a glass and
+hands down a halfpenny; a mug of sparkling water is sent up to him. It
+is deliciously cool.
+
+The sellers of lottery tickets, offering as usual the first prize:
+'_Premio gordo, quien quiere el premio gordo_';{d} or yelling the number
+of the ticket: 'Who wants number seventeen hundred and eighty-five for
+three _pesetas_?'
+
+And the newsboys add to the din: '_Noticiero! Porvenir!_' Later on
+arrives the Madrid paper: '_Heraldo! Heraldo!_'
+
+Lastly the men with stacks of old journals to use as seats: '_A perra
+chica, dos periodicos a perra chica!_'{e}
+
+Suddenly there is a great clapping of hands, and looking up you find the
+president has come; he is supported by two friends, and all three, with
+comic solemnity, wear tall hats and frock coats. They bow to the public.
+Bull-fighting is the only punctual thing in Spain, and the president
+arrives precisely as the clock strikes half-past four. He waves a
+handkerchief, the band strikes up, a door is opened, and the fighters
+enter. First come the three _matadors_, the eldest in the middle, the
+next on his right, and the youngest on the left; they are followed by
+their respective _cuadrillas_, the _banderilleros_, the _capeadors_, the
+_picadors_ on horseback, and finally the _chulos_, whose duty it is to
+unsaddle dead horses, attach the slaughtered bull to the team of mules,
+and perform other minor offices. They advance, gorgeous in their
+coloured satin and gold embroidery, bearing a cloak peculiarly folded
+over the arm; they walk with a kind of swinging motion, as ordained by
+the convention of a century. They bow to the president, very solemnly.
+The applause is renewed. They retire to the side, three _picadors_ take
+up their places at some distance from one another on the right of the
+door from which issues the bull. The _alguaciles_, in black velvet, with
+peaked and feathered hats, on horseback, come forward, and the key of
+the bull's den is thrown to them. They disappear. The fighters meanwhile
+exchange their satin cloaks for others of less value. There is another
+flourish of trumpets, the gates are opened for the bull.
+
+Then comes a moment of expectation, every one is trembling with
+excitement. There is perfect silence. All eyes are fixed on the open
+gate.
+
+Notes:
+
+{a} 'Twopence-halfpenny to the Bulls.'
+
+{b} "Fans, one halfpenny each!"
+
+{c} 'Water, who wants water? Water!'
+
+{d} 'The first prize, who wants the first prize?'
+
+{e} 'One halfpenny, two papers for one halfpenny.'
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+[Sidenote: Corrida de Toros--II]
+
+
+One or two shouts are heard, a murmur passes through the people, and the
+bull emerges--shining, black, with massive shoulders and fine horns. It
+advances a little, a splendid beast conscious of its strength, and
+suddenly stops dead, looking round. The _toreros_ wave their capes and
+the _picadors_ flourish their lances, long wooden spikes with an iron
+point. The bull catches sight of a horse, and lowering his head, bears
+down swiftly upon it. The _picador_ takes firmer hold of his lance, and
+when the brute reaches him plants the pointed end between its shoulders;
+at the same moment the senior _matador_ dashes forward and with his
+cloak distracts the bull's attention. It wheels round and charges; he
+makes a pass; it goes by almost under his arm, but quickly turns and
+again attacks. This time the skilful fighter receives it backwards,
+looking over his shoulder, and again it passes. There are shouts of
+enthusiasm from the public. The bull's glossy coat is stained with red.
+
+A second _picador_ comes forward, and the bull charges again, but
+furiously now, exerting its full might. The horse is thrown to the
+ground and the rider, by an evil chance, falls at the bull's very feet.
+
+It cannot help seeing him and lowers its head; the people catch their
+breath; many spring instinctively to their feet; here and there is a
+woman's frightened cry; but immediately a _matador_ draws the cape over
+its eyes and passionately the bull turns on him. Others spring forward
+and lift the _picador_: his trappings are so heavy that he cannot rise
+alone; he is dragged to safety and the steed brought back for him. One
+more horseman advances, and the bull with an angry snort bounds at him;
+the _picador_ does his best, but is no match for the giant strength. The
+bull digs its horns deep into the horse's side and lifts man and beast
+right off the ground; they fall with a heavy thud, and as the raging
+brute is drawn off, blood spurts from the horse's flank. The _chulos_
+try to get it up; they drag on the reins with shouts and curses, and
+beat it with sticks. But the wretched creature, wounded to the death,
+helplessly lifts its head. They see it is useless and quickly remove
+saddle and bridle, a man comes with a short dagger called the
+_puntilla_, which he drives into its head, the horse falls on its side,
+a quiver passes through its body, and it is dead. The people are
+shouting with pleasure; the bull is a good one. The first _picador_
+comes up again and the bull attacks for the fourth time, but it has lost
+much strength, and the man drives it off. It has made a horrible gash in
+the horse's belly, and the entrails protrude, dragging along the ground.
+The horse is taken out.
+
+The president waves his handkerchief, the trumpets sound, and the first
+act of the drama is over.
+
+The _picadors_ leave the ring and the _banderilleros_ take their darts,
+about three feet long, gay with decorations of coloured paper. While
+they make ready, others play with the bull, gradually tiring it: one
+throws aside his cape and awaits the charge with folded arms; the bull
+rushes at him, and the man without moving his feet twists his body away
+and the savage brute passes on. There is a great burst of applause for a
+daring feat well done.
+
+Each _matador_ has two _banderilleros_, and it is proper that three
+pairs of these darts should be placed. One of them steps to within
+speaking distance of the animal, and holding a _banderilla_ in each hand
+lifted above his head, stamps his foot and shouts insulting words. The
+bull does not know what this new thing is, but charges blindly; at the
+same moment the man runs forward, and passing, plants the two darts
+between the shoulders. If they are well placed there is plentiful
+hand-clapping; no audience is so liberal of applause for skill or
+courage, none so intolerant of cowardice or stupidity; and with equal
+readiness it will yell with delight or hiss and hoot and whistle. The
+second _banderillero_ comes forward to plant his pair; a third is
+inserted and the trumpets sound for the final scene.
+
+This is the great duel between the single man and the bull. The
+_matador_ advances, sword in hand, with the _muleta_, the red cloth for
+the passes, over his arm. Under the president's box he takes off his
+hat, and with fine gesture makes a grandiloquent speech, wherein he vows
+either to conquer or to die: the harangue is finished with a wheel round
+and a dramatic flinging of his hat to attendants on the other side of
+the barrier. He pensively walks forward. All eyes are upon him--and he
+knows it. He motions his companions to stand back and goes close to the
+bull. He is quite alone, with his life in his hands--a slender figure,
+very handsome in the gorgeous costume glittering with fine gold. He
+arranges the _muleta_ over a little stick, so that it hangs down like a
+flag and conceals his sword. Then quite solemnly he walks up to the
+bull, holding the red rag in his left hand. The bull watches
+suspiciously, suddenly charges, and the _muleta_ is passed over its
+head; the _matador_ does not move a muscle, the bull turns and stands
+quite motionless. Another charge, another pass. And so he continues,
+making seven or eight of various sorts, to the growing approbation of
+the public. At last it is time to kill. With great caution he withdraws
+the sword; the bull looks warily. He makes two or three passes more and
+walks round till he gets the animal into proper position: the forefeet
+must be set squarely on the ground. '_Ora! Ora!_' cry the people. 'Now!
+Now!' The bull is well placed. The _matador_ draws the sword back a
+little and takes careful aim. The bull rushes, and at the same moment
+the man makes one bound forward and buries the sword to the hilt between
+the brute's shoulders. It falls to its knees and rolls over.
+
+Then is a perfect storm of applause; and it is worth while to see
+fourteen thousand people wild with delight. The band bursts into joyous
+strains, and the mules come galloping in, gaily caparisoned; a rope is
+passed round the dead beast, and they drag it away. The _matador_
+advances to the president's box and bows, while the shouting grows more
+frantic. He walks round, bowing and smiling, and the public in its
+enthusiasm throws down hats and cigars and sticks.
+
+But there are no intervals to a bull-fight, and the _picadors_
+immediately reappear and take their places; the doors are flung open,
+and a second bull rushes forth. The _matador_ still goes round bowing to
+the applause, elaborately unmindful of the angry beast.
+
+Six animals are killed in an afternoon within two hours, and then the
+mighty audience troop out with flushed cheeks, the smell of blood strong
+in their nostrils.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+[Sidenote: On Horseback]
+
+
+I had a desire to see something of the very heart of Andalusia, of that
+part of the country which had preserved its antique character, where
+railway trains were not, and the horse, the mule, the donkey were still
+the only means of transit. After much scrutiny of local maps and
+conversation with horse-dealers and others, I determined from Seville to
+go circuitously to Ecija, and thence return by another route as best I
+could. The district I meant to traverse in olden times was notorious for
+its brigands; even thirty years ago the prosperous tradesman, voyaging
+on his mule from town to town, was liable to be seized by unromantic
+outlaws and detained till his friends forwarded ransom, while ears and
+fingers were playfully sent to prove identity. In Southern Spain
+brigandage necessarily flourished, for not only were the country-folk in
+collusion with the bandits, but the very magistrates united with them to
+share the profits of lawless undertakings. Drastic measures were needful
+to put down the evil, and in a truly Spanish way drastic measures were
+employed. The Civil Guard, whose duty it was to see to the safety of the
+country side, had no confidence in the justice of Madrid, whither
+captured highwaymen were sent for trial; once there, for a few hundred
+dollars, the most murderous ruffian could prove his babe-like innocence,
+forthwith return to the scene of his former exploits and begin again. So
+they hit upon an expedient. The Civil Guards set out for the capital
+with their prisoner handcuffed between them; but, curiously enough, in
+every single case the brigand had scarcely marched a couple of miles
+before he incautiously tried to escape, whereupon he was, of course,
+promptly shot through the back. People noticed two things: first, that
+the clothes of the dead man were often singed, as if he had not escaped
+very far before he was shot down; that only proved his guardians' zeal.
+But the other was stranger: the two Civil Guards, when after a couple of
+hours they returned to the town, as though by a mysterious premonition
+they had known the bandit would make some rash attempt, invariably had
+waiting for them an excellent hot dinner.
+
+The only robber of importance who avoided such violent death was the
+chief of a celebrated band who, when captured, signed a declaration that
+he had not the remotest idea of escaping, and insisted on taking with
+him to Madrid his solicitor and a witness. He reached the capital alive,
+and having settled his little affairs with benevolent judges, turned to
+a different means of livelihood, and eventually, it is said, occupied a
+responsible post in the Government. It is satisfactory to think that his
+felonious talents were not in after-life entirely wasted.
+
+* * *
+
+It was the beginning of March when I started. According to the old
+proverb, the dog was already seeking the shade: _En Marzo busca la
+sombra el perro_; the chilly Spaniard, loosening the folds of his
+_capa_, acknowledged that at mid-day in the sun it was almost warm. The
+winter rains appeared to have ceased; the sky over Seville was
+cloudless, not with the intense azure of midsummer, but with a blue that
+seemed mixed with silver. And in the sun the brown water of the
+Guadalquivir glittered like the scales on a fish's back, or like the
+burnished gold of old Moorish pottery.
+
+I set out in the morning early, with saddle-bags fixed on either side
+and poncho strapped to my pommel. A loaded revolver, though of course I
+never had a chance to use it, made me feel pleasantly adventurous. I
+walked cautiously over the slippery cobbles of the streets, disturbing
+the silence with the clatter of my horse's shoes. Now and then a mule or
+a donkey trotted by, with panniers full of vegetables, of charcoal or of
+bread, between which on the beast's neck sat perched a man in a short
+blouse. I came to the old rampart of the town, now a promenade; and at
+the gate groups of idlers, with cigarettes between their lips, stood
+talking.
+
+An hospitable friend had offered lodging for the night and food; after
+which, my ideas of the probable accommodation being vague, I expected to
+sleep upon straw, for victuals depending on the wayside inns. I arrived
+at the _Campo de la Cruz_, a tiny chapel which marks the same distance
+from the Cathedral as Jesus Christ walked to the Cross; it is the final
+boundary of Seville.
+
+Immediately afterwards I left the high-road, striking across country to
+Carmona. The land was already wild; on either side of the bridle-path
+were great wastes of sand covered only by palmetto. The air was cool and
+fresh, like the air of English country in June when it has rained
+through the night; and Aguador, snorting with pleasure, cantered over
+the uneven ground, nimbly avoiding holes and deep ruts with the
+sure-footedness of his Arab blood. An Andalusian horse cares nothing for
+the ground on which he goes, though it be hard and unyielding as iron;
+and he clambers up and down steep, rocky precipices as happily as he
+trots along a cinder-path.
+
+I passed a shepherd in a ragged cloak and a broad-brimmed hat, holding a
+crook. He stared at me, his flock of brown sheep clustered about him as
+I scampered by, and his dog rushed after, barking.
+
+'_Vaya Usted con Dios!_'
+
+I came to little woods of pine-trees, with long, thin trunks, and the
+foliage spreading umbrella-wise; round them circled innumerable hawks,
+whose nests I saw among the branches. Two ravens crossed my path, their
+wings heavily flapping.
+
+The great charm of the Andalusian country is that you seize romance, as
+it were, in the act. In northern lands it is only by a mental effort
+that you can realise the picturesque value of the life that surrounds
+you; and, for my part, I can perceive it only by putting it mentally in
+black and white, and reading it as though between the covers of a book.
+Once, I remember, in Brittany, in a distant corner of that rock-bound
+coast, I sat at midnight in a fisherman's cottage playing cards by the
+light of two tallow candles. Next door, with only a wall between us, a
+very old sailor lay dying in the great cupboard-bed which had belonged
+to his fathers before him; and he fought for life with the remains of
+that strenuous vigour with which in other years he had battled against
+the storms of the Atlantic. In the stillness of the night, the waves,
+with the murmur of a lullaby, washed gently upon the shingle, and the
+stars shone down from a clear sky. I looked at the yellow light on the
+faces of the players, gathered in that desolate spot from the four
+corners of the earth, and cried out: 'By Jove, this is romance!' I had
+never before caught that impression in the very making, and I was
+delighted with my good fortune.
+
+The answer came quickly from the American: 'Don't talk bosh! It's your
+deal.'
+
+But for all that it was romance, seized fugitively, and life at that
+moment threw itself into a decorative pattern fit to be remembered. It
+is the same effect which you get more constantly in Spain, so that the
+commonest things are transfigured into beauty. For in the cactus and the
+aloe and the broad fields of grain, in the mules with their wide
+panniers and the peasants, in the shepherds' huts and the straggling
+farm-houses, the romantic is there, needing no subtlety to be
+discovered; and the least imaginative may feel a certain thrill when he
+understands that the life he leads is not without its æsthetic meaning.
+
+* * *
+
+I rode for a long way in complete solitude, through many miles of this
+sandy desert. Then the country changed, and olive-groves in endless
+succession followed one another, the trees with curiously decorative
+effect were planted in long, even lines. The earth was a vivid red,
+contrasting with the blue sky and the sombre olives, gnarled and
+fantastically twisted, like evil spirits metamorphosed: in places they
+had sown corn, and the young green enhanced the shrill diversity of
+colour. With its clear, brilliant outlines and its lack of shadow, the
+scene reminded one of a prim pattern, such as in Jane Austen's day young
+gentlewomen worked in worsted. Sometimes I saw women among the trees,
+perched like monkeys on the branches, or standing below with large
+baskets; they were extraordinarily quaint in the trousers which modesty
+bade them wear for the concealment of their limbs when olive-picking.
+The costume was so masculine, their faces so red and weather-beaten,
+that the yellow handkerchief on their heads was really the only means of
+distinguishing their sex.
+
+But the path became more precipitous, hewn from the sandstone, and so
+polished by the numberless shoes of donkeys and of mules that I hardly
+dared walk upon it; and suddenly I saw Carmona in front of me--quite
+close.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+[Sidenote: By the Road--I]
+
+
+The approach to Carmona is a very broad, white street, much too wide for
+the cottages which line it, deserted; and the young trees planted on
+either side are too small to give shade. The sun beat down with a fierce
+glare and the dust rose in clouds as I passed. Presently I came to a
+great Moorish gateway, a dark mass of stone, battlemented, with a lofty
+horseshoe arch. People were gathered about it in many-coloured groups, I
+found it was a holiday in Carmona, and the animation was unwonted; in a
+corner stood the hut of the _Consumo_, and the men advanced to examine
+my saddle-bags. I passed through, into the town, looking right and left
+for a _parador_, an hostelry whereat to leave my horse. I bargained for
+the price of food and saw Aguador comfortably stalled; then made my way
+to the Nekropolis where lived my host. There are many churches in
+Carmona, and into one of these I entered; it had nothing of great
+interest, but to a certain degree it was rich, rich in its gilded
+woodwork and in the brocade that adorned the pillars; and I felt that
+these Spanish churches lent a certain dignity to life: for all the
+careless flippancy of Andalusia they still remained to strike a nobler
+note. I forgot willingly that the land was priest-ridden and
+superstitious, so that a Spaniard could tell me bitterly that there were
+but two professions open to his countrymen, the priesthood and the
+bull-ring. It was pleasant to rest in that cool and fragrant darkness.
+
+My host was an archæologist, and we ate surrounded by broken
+earthenware, fragmentary mosaics, and grinning skulls. It was curious
+afterwards to wander in the graveyard which, with indefatigable zeal, he
+had excavated, among the tombs of forgotten races, letting oneself down
+to explore the subterranean cells. The paths he had made in the giant
+cemetery were lined with a vast number of square sandstone boxes which
+had contained human ashes; and now, when the lid was lifted, a green
+lizard or a scorpion darted out. From the hill I saw stretched before me
+the great valley of the Guadalquivir: with the squares of olive and of
+ploughed field, and the various greens of the corn, it was like a vast,
+multi-coloured carpet. But later, with the sunset, black clouds arose,
+splendidly piled upon one another; and the twilight air was chill and
+grey. A certain sternness came over the olive-groves, and they might
+well have served as a reproach to the facile Andaluz; for their cold
+passionless green seemed to offer a warning to his folly.
+
+At night my host left me to sleep in the village, and I lay in bed alone
+in the little house among the tombs; it was very silent. The wind sprang
+up and blew about me, whistling through the windows, whistling weirdly;
+and I felt as though the multitudes that had been buried in that old
+cemetery filled the air with their serried numbers, a vast, silent
+congregation waiting motionless for they knew not what. I recalled a
+gruesome fact that my friend had told me: not far from there, in tombs
+that he had disinterred the skeletons lay huddled spasmodically, with
+broken skulls and a great stone by the side; for when a man, he said,
+lay sick unto death, his people took him, and placed him in his grave,
+and with the stone killed him.
+
+* * *
+
+In the morning I set out again. It was five-and-thirty miles to Ecija,
+but a new high road stretched from place to place and I expected easy
+riding. Carmona stands on the top of a precipitous hill, round which
+winds the beginning of the road; below, after many zigzags, I saw its
+continuation, a straight white line reaching as far as I could see. In
+Andalusia, till a few years ago, there were practically no high roads,
+and even now they are few and bad. The chief communication from town to
+town is usually an uneven track, which none attempts to keep up, with
+deep ruts, and palmetto growing on either side, and occasional pools of
+water. A day's rain makes it a quagmire, impassable for anything beside
+the sure-footed mule.
+
+I went on, meeting now and then a string of asses, their panniers filled
+with stones or with wood for Carmona; the drivers sat on the rump of the
+hindmost animal, for that is the only comfortable way to ride a donkey.
+A peasant trotted briskly by on his mule, his wife behind him with her
+arms about his waist. I saw a row of ploughs in a field; to each were
+attached two oxen, and they went along heavily, one behind the other in
+regular line. By the side of every pair a man walked bearing a long
+goad, and one of them sang a _Malagueña_, its monotonous notes rising
+and falling slowly. From time to time I passed a white farm, a little
+way from the road, invitingly cool in the heat; the sun began to beat
+down fiercely. The inevitable storks were perched on a chimney, by their
+big nest; and when they flew in front of me, with their broad white
+wings and their red legs against the blue sky, they gave a quaint
+impression of a Japanese screen.
+
+A farmhouse such as this seems to me always a type of the Spanish
+impenetrability. I have been over many of them, and know the manner of
+their rooms and the furniture, the round of duties there performed and
+how the day is portioned out; but the real life of the inhabitants
+escapes me. My knowledge is merely external. I am conscious that it is
+the same of the Andalusians generally, and am dismayed because I know
+practically nothing more after a good many years than I learnt in the
+first months of my acquaintance with them. Below the superficial
+similarity with the rest of Europe which of late they have acquired,
+there is a difference which makes it impossible to get at the bottom of
+their hearts. They have no openness as have the French and the Italians,
+with whom a good deal of intimacy is possible even to an Englishman, but
+on the contrary an Eastern reserve which continually baffles me. I
+cannot realise their thoughts nor their outlook. I feel always below the
+grace of their behaviour the instinctive, primeval hatred of the
+stranger.
+
+Gradually the cultivation ceased, and I saw no further sign of human
+beings. I returned to the desert of the previous day, but the land was
+more dreary. The little groves of pine-trees had disappeared, there were
+no olives, no cornfields, not even the aloe nor the wilder cactus; but
+on either side as far as the horizon, desert wastes, littered with
+stones and with rough boulders, grown over only by palmetto. For many
+miles I went, dismounting now and then to stretch my legs and sauntering
+a while with the reins over my shoulder. Towards mid-day I rested by the
+wayside and let Aguador eat what grass he could.
+
+Presently, continuing my journey, I caught sight of a little hovel where
+the fir-branch over the door told me wine was to be obtained. I fastened
+my horse to a ring in the wall, and, going in, found an aged crone who
+gave me a glass of that thin white wine, produce of the last year's
+vintage, which is called _Vino de la Hoja_, wine of the leaf; she looked
+at me incuriously as though she saw so many people and they were so much
+alike that none repaid particular scrutiny. I tried to talk with her,
+for it seemed a curious life that she must lead, alone in that hut many
+miles from the nearest hamlet, with never a house in sight; but she was
+taciturn and eyed me now with something like suspicion. I asked for
+food, but with a sullen frown she answered that she had none to spare. I
+inquired the distance to Luisiana, a village on the way to Ecija where
+I had proposed to lunch, and shrugging her shoulders, she replied: 'How
+should I know!' I was about to go when I heard a great clattering, and a
+horseman galloped up. He dismounted and walked in, a fine example of the
+Andalusian countryman, handsome and tall, well-shaved, with
+close-cropped hair. He wore elaborately decorated gaiters, the usual
+short, close-fitting jacket, and a broad-brimmed hat; in his belt were a
+knife and a revolver, and slung across his back a long gun. He would
+have made an admirable brigand of comic-opera; but was in point of fact
+a farmer riding, as he told me, to see his _novia_, or lady-love, at a
+neighbouring farm.
+
+I found him more communicative and in the politest fashion we discussed
+the weather and the crops. He had been to Seville.
+
+'_Che maravilla!_' he cried, waving his fine, strong hands. 'What a
+marvel! But I cannot bear the town-folk. What thieves and liars!'
+
+'Town-folk should stick to the towns,' muttered the old woman, looking
+at me somewhat pointedly.
+
+The remark drew the farmer's attention more closely to me.
+
+'And what are you doing here?' he asked.
+
+'Riding to Ecija.'
+
+'Ah, you're a commercial traveller,' he cried, with fine scorn. 'You
+foreigners bleed the country of all its money. You and the government!'
+
+'Rogues and vagabonds!' muttered the old woman.
+
+Notwithstanding, the farmer with much condescension accepted one of my
+cigars, and made me drink with him a glass of _aguardiente_.
+
+We went off together. The mare he rode was really magnificent, rather
+large, holding her head beautifully, with a tail that almost swept the
+ground. She carried as if it were nothing the heavy Spanish saddle,
+covered with a white sheep-skin, its high triangular pommel of polished
+wood. Our ways, however, quickly diverged. I inquired again how far it
+was to the nearest village.
+
+'Eh!' said the farmer, with a vague gesture. 'Two leagues. Three
+leagues. _Quien sabe?_ Who knows? _Adios!_'
+
+He put the spurs to his mare and galloped down a bridle-track. I, whom
+no fair maiden awaited, trotted on soberly.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+[Sidenote: By the Road--II]
+
+
+The endless desert grew rocky and less sandy, the colours duller. Even
+the palmetto found scanty sustenance, and huge boulders, strewn as
+though some vast torrent had passed through the plain, alone broke the
+desolate flatness. The dusty road pursued its way, invariably straight,
+neither turning to one side nor to the other, but continually in front
+of me, a long white line.
+
+Finally in the distance I saw a group of white buildings and a cluster
+of trees. I thought it was Luisiana, but Luisiana, they had said, was a
+populous hamlet, and here were only two or three houses and not a soul.
+I rode up and found among the trees a tall white church, and a pool of
+murky water, further back a low, new edifice, which was evidently a
+monastery, and a _posada_. Presently a Franciscan monk in his brown cowl
+came out of the church, and he told me that Luisiana was a full league
+off, but that food could be obtained at the neighbouring inn.
+
+The _posada_ was merely a long barn, with an open roof of wood, on one
+side of which were half a dozen mangers and in a corner two mules.
+Against another wall were rough benches for travellers to sleep on. I
+dismounted and walked to the huge fireplace at one end, where I saw
+three very old women seated like witches round a _brasero_, the great
+brass dish of burning cinders. With true Spanish stolidity they did not
+rise as I approached, but waited for me to speak, looking at me
+indifferently. I asked whether I could have anything to eat.
+
+'Fried eggs.'
+
+'Anything else?'
+
+The hostess, a tall creature, haggard and grim, shrugged her shoulders.
+Her jaws were toothless, and when she spoke it was difficult to
+understand. I tied Aguador to a manger and took off his saddle. The old
+women stirred themselves at last, and one brought a portion of chopped
+straw and a little barley. Another with the bellows blew on the cinders,
+and the third, taking eggs from a basket, fried them on the _brasero_.
+Besides, they gave me coarse brown bread and red wine, which was coarser
+still; for dessert the hostess went to the door and from a neighbouring
+tree plucked oranges.
+
+When I had finished--it was not a very substantial meal--I drew my chair
+to the _brasero_ and handed round my cigarette-case. The old women
+helped themselves, and a smile of thanks made the face of my gaunt
+hostess somewhat less repellent. We smoked a while in silence.
+
+'Are you all alone here?' I asked, at length.
+
+The hostess made a movement of her head towards the country. 'My son is
+out shooting,' she said, 'and two others are in Cuba, fighting the
+rebels.'
+
+'God protect them!' muttered another.
+
+'All our sons go to Cuba now,' said the first. 'Oh, I don't blame the
+Cubans, but the government.'
+
+An angry light filled her eyes, and she lifted her clenched hand,
+cursing the rulers at Madrid who took her children. 'They're robbers and
+fools. Why can't they let Cuba go? It isn't worth the money we pay in
+taxes.'
+
+She spoke so vehemently, mumbling the words between her toothless gums,
+that I could scarcely make them out.
+
+'In Madrid they don't care if the country goes to rack and ruin so long
+as they fill their purses. Listen.' She put one hand on my arm. 'My boy
+came back with fever and dysentery. He was ill for months--at death's
+door--and I nursed him day and night. And almost before he could walk
+they sent him out again to that accursed country.'
+
+The tears rolled heavily down her wrinkled cheeks.
+
+* * *
+
+Luisiana is a curious place. It was a colony formed by Charles III. of
+Spain with Germans whom he brought to people the desolate land; and I
+fancied the Teuton ancestry was apparent in the smaller civility of the
+inhabitants. They looked sullenly as I passed, and none gave the
+friendly Andalusian greeting. I saw a woman hanging clothes on the line
+outside her house; she had blue eyes and flaxen hair, a healthy red
+face, and a solidity of build which proved the purity of her northern
+blood. The houses, too, had a certain exotic quaintness; notwithstanding
+the universal whitewash of the South, there was about them still a
+northern character. They were prim and regularly built, with little
+plots of garden; the fences and the shutters were bright green. I almost
+expected to see German words on the post-office and on the tobacco-shop,
+and the grandiloquent Spanish seemed out of place; I thought the Spanish
+clothes of the men sat upon them uneasily.
+
+The day was drawing to a close and I pushed on to reach Ecija before
+night, but Aguador was tired and I was obliged mostly to walk. Now the
+highway turned and twisted among little hills and it was a strange
+relief to leave the dead level of the plains: on each side the land was
+barren and desolate, and in the distance were dark mountains. The sky
+had clouded over, and the evening was grey and very cold; the solitude
+was awful. At last I overtook a pedlar plodding along by his donkey, the
+panniers filled to overflowing with china and glass, which he was taking
+to sell in Ecija. He wished to talk, but he was going too slowly, and I
+left him. I had hills to climb now, and at the top of each expected to
+see the town, but every time was disappointed. The traces of man
+surrounded me at last; again I rode among olive-groves and cornfields;
+the highway now was bordered with straggling aloes and with hedges of
+cactus.
+
+At last! I reached the brink of another hill, and then, absolutely at my
+feet, so that I could have thrown a stone on its roofs, lay Ecija with
+its numberless steeples.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+[Sidenote: Ecija]
+
+
+The central square, where are the government offices, the taverns, and a
+little inn, is a charming place, quiet and lackadaisical, its pale
+browns and greys very restful in the twilight, and harmonious. The
+houses with their queer windows and their balconies of wrought iron are
+built upon arcades which give a pleasant feeling of intimacy: in summer,
+cool and dark, they must be the promenade of all the gossips and the
+loungers. One can imagine the uneventful life, the monotonous round of
+existence; and yet the Andalusian blood runs in the people's veins. To
+my writer's fantasy Ecija seemed a fit background for some tragic story
+of passion or of crime.
+
+I dined, unromantically enough, with a pair of commercial travellers, a
+post-office clerk, and two stout, elderly men who appeared to be retired
+officers. Spanish victuals are terrible and strange; food is even more
+an affair of birth than religion, since a man may change his faith, but
+hardly his manner of eating: the stomach used to roast meat and
+Yorkshire pudding rebels against Eastern cookery, and a Christian may
+sooner become a Buddhist than a beef-eater a guzzler of _olla podrida_.
+The Spaniards without weariness eat the same dinner day after day, year
+in, year out: it is always the same white, thin, oily soup; a dish of
+haricot beans and maize swimming in a revolting sauce; a nameless
+_entrée_ fried in oil--Andalusians have a passion for other animals'
+insides; a thin steak, tough as leather and grilled to utter dryness;
+raisins and oranges. You rise from table feeling that you have been
+soaked in rancid oil.
+
+My table-companions were disposed to be sociable. The travellers desired
+to know whether I was there to sell anything, and one drew from his
+pocket, for my inspection, a case of watch-chains. The officers surmised
+that I had come from Gibraltar to spy the land, and to terrify me, spoke
+of the invincible strength of the Spanish forces.
+
+'Are you aware,' said the elder, whose adiposity prevented his outward
+appearance from corresponding with his warlike heart, 'Are you aware
+that in the course of history our army has never once been defeated, and
+our fleet but twice?'
+
+He mentioned the catastrophes, but I had never heard of them; and
+Trafalgar was certainly not included. I hazarded a discreet inquiry,
+whereupon, with much emphasis, both explained how on that occasion the
+Spanish had soundly thrashed old Nelson, although he had discomfited the
+French.
+
+'It is odd,' I observed, 'that British historians should be so
+inaccurate.'
+
+'It is discreditable,' retorted my acquaintance, with a certain
+severity.
+
+'How long did the English take to conquer the Soudan?' remarked the
+other, somewhat aggressively picking his teeth. 'Twenty years? We
+conquered Morocco in three months.'
+
+'And the Moors are devils,' said the commercial traveller. 'I know,
+because I once went to Tangiers for my firm.'
+
+After dinner I wandered about the streets, past the great old houses of
+the nobles in the _Calle de los Caballeros_, empty now and dilapidated,
+for every gentleman that can put a penny in his pocket goes to Madrid to
+spend it; down to the river which flowed swiftly between high banks.
+Below the bridge two Moorish mills, irregular masses of blackness, stood
+finely against the night. Near at hand they were still working at a
+forge, and I watched the flying sparks as the smith hammered a
+horseshoe; the workers were like silhouettes in front of the leaping
+flames.
+
+At many windows, to my envy, couples were philandering; the night was
+cold and Corydon stood huddled in his cape. But the murmuring as I
+passed was like the flow of a rapid brook, and I imagined, I am sure,
+far more passionate and romantic speeches than ever the lovers made. I
+might have uttered them to the moon, but I should have felt ridiculous,
+and it was more practical to jot them down afterwards in a note-book. In
+some of the surrounding villages they have so far preserved the Moorish
+style as to have no windows within reach of the ground, and lovers then
+must take advantage of the aperture at the bottom of the door made for
+the domestic cat's particular convenience. Stretched full length on the
+ground, on opposite sides of the impenetrable barrier, they can still
+whisper amorous commonplaces to one another. But imagine the confusion
+of a polite Spaniard, on a dark night, stumbling over a recumbent swain:
+
+'My dear sir, I beg your pardon. I had no idea....'
+
+In old days the disturbance would have been sufficient cause for a duel,
+but now manners are more peaceful: the gallant, turning a little,
+removes his hat and politely answers:
+
+'It is of no consequence. _Vaya Usted con Dios!_'
+
+'Good-night!'
+
+The intruder passes and the beau endeavours passionately to catch sight
+of his mistress' black eyes.
+
+* * *
+
+Next day was Sunday, and I walked by the river till I found a plot of
+grass sheltered from the wind by a bristly hedge of cactus. I lay down
+in the sun, lazily watching two oxen that ploughed a neighbouring field.
+
+I felt it my duty in the morning to buy a chap-book relating the
+adventures of the famous brigands who were called the Seven Children of
+Ecija; and this, somewhat sleepily, I began to read. It required a
+byronic stomach, for the very first chapter led me to a monastery where
+mass proceeded in memory of some victim of undiscovered crime. Seven
+handsome men appeared, most splendidly arrayed, but armed to the teeth;
+each one was every inch a brigand, pitiless yet great of heart,
+saturnine yet gentlemanly; and their peculiarity was that though six
+were killed one day seven would invariably be seen the next. The most
+gorgeously apparelled of them all, entering the sacristy, flung a purse
+of gold to the Superior, while a scalding tear coursed down his sunburnt
+cheek; and this he dried with a noble gesture and a richly embroidered
+handkerchief! In a whirlwind of romantic properties I read of a wicked
+miser who refused to support his brother's widow, of the widow herself,
+(brought at birth to a gardener in the dead of night by a mysterious
+mulatto,) and of this lady's lovely offspring. My own feelings can never
+be harrowed on behalf of a widow with a marriageable daughter, but I am
+aware that habitual readers of romance, like ostriches, will swallow
+anything. I was hurried to a subterranean chamber where the Seven
+Children, in still more elaborate garments, performed various dark
+deeds, smoked expensive Havanas, and seated on silken cushions, partook
+(like Freemasons) of a succulent cold collation.
+
+The sun shone down with comfortable warmth, and I stretched my legs. My
+pipe was out and I refilled it. A meditative snail crawled up and
+observed me with flattering interest.
+
+I grew somewhat confused. A stolen will was of course inevitable, and so
+were prison dungeons; but the characters had an irritating trick of
+revealing at critical moments that they were long-lost relatives. It
+must have been a tedious age when poor relations were never safely
+buried. However, youth and beauty were at last triumphant and villainy
+confounded, virtue was crowned with orange blossom and vice died a
+miserable death. Rejoicing in duty performed I went to sleep.
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+[Sidenote: Wind and Storm]
+
+
+But next morning the sky was dark with clouds; people looked up
+dubiously when I asked the way and distance to Marchena, prophesying
+rain. Fetching my horse, the owner of the stable robbed me with peculiar
+callousness, for he had bound my hands the day before, when I went to
+see how Aguador was treated, by giving me with most courteous ceremony a
+glass of _aguardiente_; and his urbanity was then so captivating that
+now I lacked assurance to protest. I paid the scandalous overcharge with
+a good grace, finding some solace in the reflection that he was at least
+a picturesque blackguard, tall and spare, grey-headed, with fine
+features sharpened by age to the strongest lines; for I am always
+grateful to the dishonest when they add a certain æsthetic charm to
+their crooked ways. There is a proverb which says that in Ecija every
+man is a thief and every woman--no better than she should be: I was not
+disinclined to believe it.
+
+I set out, guided by a sign-post, and the good road seemed to promise an
+easy day. They had told me that the distance was only six leagues, and I
+expected to arrive before luncheon. Aguador, fresh after his day's rest,
+broke into a canter when I put him on the green plot, which the old
+Spanish law orders to be left for cattle by the side of the highway. But
+after three miles, without warning, the road suddenly stopped. I found
+myself in an olive-grove, with only a narrow path in front of me. It
+looked doubtful, but there was no one in sight and I wandered on,
+trusting to luck.
+
+Presently, in a clearing, I caught sight of three men on donkeys,
+walking slowly one after the other, and I galloped after to ask my way.
+The beasts were laden with undressed skins which they were taking to
+Fuentes, and each man squatted cross-legged on the top of his load. The
+hindermost turned right round when I asked my question and sat
+unconcernedly with his back to the donkey's head. He looked about him
+vaguely as though expecting the information I sought to be written on
+the trunk of an olive-tree, and scratched his head.
+
+'Well,' he said, 'I should think it was a matter of seven leagues, but
+it will rain before you get there.'
+
+'This is the right way, isn't it?'
+
+'It may be. If it doesn't lead to Marchena it must lead somewhere else.'
+
+There was a philosophic ring about the answer which made up for the
+uncertainty. The skinner was a fat, good-humoured creature, like all
+Spaniards intensely curious; and to prepare the way for inquiries,
+offered a cigarette.
+
+'But why do you come to Ecija by so roundabout a way as Carmona, and why
+should you return to Seville by such a route as Marchena?'
+
+His opinion was evidently that the shortest way between two places was
+also the best. He received my explanation with incredulity and asked,
+more insistently, why I went to Ecija on horseback when I might go by
+train to Madrid.
+
+'For pleasure,' said I.
+
+'My good sir, you must have come on some errand.'
+
+'Oh yes,' I answered, hoping to satisfy him, 'on the search for
+emotion.'
+
+At this he bellowed with laughter and turned round to tell his fellows.
+
+'_Usted es muy guason_,' he said at length, which may be translated:
+'You're a mighty funny fellow.'
+
+I expressed my pleasure at having provided the skinners with amusement
+and bidding them farewell, trotted on.
+
+I went for a long time among the interminable olives, grey and sad
+beneath the sullen clouds, and at last the rain began to fall. I saw a
+farm not very far away and cantered up to ask for shelter. An old woman
+and a labourer came to the door and looked at me very doubtfully; they
+said it was not a _posada_, but my soft words turned their hearts and
+they allowed me to come in. The rain poured down in heavy, oblique
+lines.
+
+The labourer took Aguador to the stable and I went into the parlour, a
+long, low, airy chamber like the refectory of a monastery, with windows
+reaching to the ground. Two girls were sitting round the _brasero_,
+sewing; they offered me a chair by their side, and as the rain fell
+steadily we began to talk. The old woman discreetly remained away. They
+asked about my journey, and as is the Spanish mode, about my country,
+myself, and my belongings. It was a regular volley of questions I had to
+answer, but they sounded pleasanter in the mouth of a pretty girl than
+in that of an obese old skinner; and the rippling laughter which greeted
+my replies made me feel quite witty. When they smiled they showed the
+whitest teeth. Then came my turn for questioning. The girl on my right,
+prettier than her sister, was very Spanish, with black, expressive eyes,
+an olive skin, and a bunch of violets in her abundant hair. I asked
+whether she had a _novio_, or lover; and the question set her laughing
+immoderately. What was her name? 'Soledad--Solitude.'
+
+I looked somewhat anxiously at the weather, I feared the shower would
+cease, and in a minute, alas! the rain passed away; and I was forced to
+notice it, for the sun-rays came dancing through the window,
+importunately, making patterns of light upon the floor. I had no further
+excuse to stay, and said good-bye; but I begged for the bunch of violets
+in Soledad's dark hair and she gave it with a pretty smile. I plunged
+again into the endless olive-groves.
+
+It was a little strange, the momentary irruption into other people's
+lives, the friendly gossip with persons of a different tongue and
+country, whom I had never seen before, whom I should never see again;
+and were I not strictly truthful I might here lighten my narrative by
+the invention of a charming and romantic adventure. But if chance brings
+us often for a moment into other existences, it takes us out with equal
+suddenness so that we scarcely know whether they were real or mere
+imaginings of an idle hour: the Fates have a passion for the unfinished
+sketch and seldom trouble to unravel the threads which they have so
+laboriously entangled. The little scene brought another to my mind. When
+I was 'on accident duty' at St. Thomas's Hospital a man brought his son
+with a broken leg; it was hard luck on the little chap, for he was
+seated peacefully on the ground when another boy, climbing a wall, fell
+on him and did the damage. When I returned him, duly bandaged, to his
+father's arms, the child bent forward and put out his lips for a kiss,
+saying good-night with babyish pronunciation. The father and the
+attendant nurse laughed, and I, being young, was confused and blushed
+profusely. They went away and somehow or other I never saw them again. I
+wonder if the pretty child, (he must be eight or ten now,) remembers
+kissing a very weary medical student, who had not slept much for several
+days, and was dead tired. Probably he has quite forgotten that he ever
+broke his leg. And I suppose no recollection remains with the pretty
+girl in the farm of a foreigner riding mysteriously through the
+olive-groves, to whom she gave shelter and a bunch of violets.
+
+* * *
+
+I came at last to the end of the trees and found then that a mighty wind
+had risen, which blew straight in my teeth. It was hard work to ride
+against it, but I saw a white town in the distance, on a hill; and made
+for it, rejoicing in the prospect. Presently I met some men shooting,
+and to make sure, asked whether the houses I saw really were Marchena.
+
+'Oh no,' said one. 'You've come quite out of the way. That is Fuentes.
+Marchena is over there, beyond the hill.'
+
+My heart sank, for I was growing very hungry, and I asked whether I
+could not get shelter at Fuentes. They shrugged their shoulders and
+advised me to go to Marchena, which had a small inn. I went on for
+several hours, battling against the wind, bent down in order to expose
+myself as little as possible, over a huge expanse of pasture land, a
+desert of green. I reached the crest of the hill, but there was no sign
+of Marchena, unless that was a tower which I saw very far away, its
+summit just rising above the horizon.
+
+I was ravenous. My saddle-bags contained spaces for a bottle and for
+food; and I cursed my folly in stuffing them with such useless
+refinements of civilisation as hair-brushes and soap. It is possible
+that one could allay the pangs of hunger with soap; but under no
+imaginable circumstances with hair-brushes.
+
+It was a tower in the distance, but it seemed to grow neither nearer nor
+larger; the wind blew without pity, and miserably Aguador tramped on. I
+no longer felt very hungry, but dreadfully bored. In that waste of
+greenery the only living things beside myself were a troop of swallows
+that had accompanied me for miles. They flew close to the ground, in
+front of me, circling round; and the wind was so high that they could
+scarcely advance against it.
+
+I remembered the skinner's question, why I rode through the country when
+I could go by train. I thought of the _Cheshire Cheese_ in Fleet Street,
+where persons more fortunate than I had that day eaten hearty luncheons.
+I imagined to myself a well-grilled steak with boiled potatoes, and a
+pint of old ale, Stilton! The smoke rose to my nostrils.
+
+But at last, the Saints be praised! I found a real bridle-path, signs of
+civilisation, ploughed fields; and I came in sight of Marchena perched
+on a hill-top, surrounded by its walls. When I arrived the sun was
+setting finely behind the town.
+
+
+
+
+XXXI
+
+[Sidenote: Two Villages]
+
+
+Marchena was all white, and on the cold windy evening I spent there,
+deserted of inhabitants. Quite rarely a man sidled past wrapped to the
+eyes in his cloak, or a woman with a black shawl over her head. I saw in
+the town nothing characteristic but the wicker-work frame in front of
+each window, so that people within could not possibly be seen; it was
+evidently a Moorish survival. At night men came into the eating-room of
+the inn, ate their dinner silently, and muffling themselves, quickly
+went out; the cold seemed to have killed all life in them. I slept in a
+little windowless cellar, on a straw bed which was somewhat verminous.
+
+But next morning, as I looked back, the view of Marchena was charming.
+It stood on the crest of a green hill, surrounded by old battlements,
+and the sun shone down upon it. The wind had fallen, and in the early
+hour the air was pleasant and balmy. There was no road whatever, not
+even a bridle-track this time, and I made straight for Seville. I
+proposed to rest my horse and lunch at Mairena. On one side was a great
+plain of young corn stretching to the horizon, and on the other, with
+the same mantle of green, little hills, round which I slowly wound. The
+sun gave all manner of varied tints to the verdure--sometimes it was
+all emerald and gold, and at others it was like dark green velvet.
+
+But the clouds in the direction of Seville were very black, and coming
+nearer I saw that it rained upon the hills. The water fell on the earth
+like a transparent sheet of grey. Soon I felt an occasional drop, and I
+put on my _poncho_.
+
+The rain began in earnest, no northern drizzle, but a streaming downpour
+that soaked me to the skin. The path became marsh-like, and Aguador
+splashed along at a walk; it was impossible to go faster. The rain
+pelted down, blinding me. Then, oddly enough, for the occasion hardly
+warranted such high-flown thoughts, I felt suddenly the utter
+helplessness of man: I had never before realised with such completeness
+his insignificance beside the might of Nature; alone, with not a soul in
+sight, I felt strangely powerless. The plain flaunted itself insolently
+in face of my distress, and the hills raised their heads with a scornful
+pride; they met the rain as equals, but me it crushed; I felt as though
+it would beat me down into the mire. I fell into a passion with the
+elements, and was seized with a desire to strike out. But the white
+sheet of water was senseless and impalpable, and I relieved myself by
+raging inwardly at the fools who complain of civilisation and of
+railway-trains; they have never walked for hours foot-deep in mud,
+terrified lest their horse should slip, with the rain falling as though
+it would never cease.
+
+The path led me to a river; there was a ford, but the water was very
+high, and rushed and foamed like a torrent. Ignorant of the depth and
+mistrustful, I trotted up-stream a little, seeking shallower parts; but
+none could be seen, and it was no use to look for a bridge. I was bound
+to cross, and I had to risk it; my only consolation was that even if
+Aguador could not stand, I was already so wet that I could hardly get
+wetter. The good horse required some persuasion before he would enter;
+the water rushed and bubbled and rapidly became deeper; he stopped and
+tried to turn back, but I urged him on. My feet went under water, and
+soon it was up to my knees; then, absurdly, it struck me as rather
+funny, and I began to laugh; I could not help thinking how foolish I
+should look and feel on arriving at the other side, if I had to swim for
+it. But immediately it grew shallower; all my adventures tailed off thus
+unheroically just when they began to grow exciting, and in a minute I
+was on comparatively dry land.
+
+I went on, still with no view of Mairena; but I was coming nearer. I met
+a group of women walking with their petticoats over their heads. I
+passed a labourer sheltered behind a hedge, while his oxen stood in a
+field, looking miserably at the rain. Still it fell, still it fell!
+
+And when I reached Mairena it was the most cheerless place I had come
+across on my journey, merely a poverty-stricken hamlet that did not even
+boast a bad inn. I was directed from place to place before I could find
+a stable; I was soaked to the skin, and there seemed no shelter. At last
+I discovered a wretched wine-shop; but the woman who kept it said there
+was no fire and no food. Then I grew very cross. I explained with heat
+that I had money; it is true I was bedraggled and disreputable, but when
+I showed some coins, to prove that I could pay for what I bought, she
+asked unwillingly what I required. I ordered a _brasero_, and dried my
+clothes as best I could by the burning cinders. I ate a scanty meal of
+eggs, and comforted myself with the thin wine of the leaf, sufficiently
+alcoholic to be exhilarating, and finally, with _aguardiente_ regained
+my equilibrium.
+
+But the elements were against me. The rain had ceased while I lunched,
+but no sooner had I left Mairena than it began again, and Seville was
+sixteen miles away. It poured steadily. I tramped up the hills, covered
+with nut-trees; I wound down into valleys; the way seemed interminable.
+I tramped on. At last from the brow of a hill I saw in the distance the
+Giralda and the clustering houses of Seville, but all grey in the wet;
+above it heavy clouds were lowering. On and on!
+
+The day was declining, and Seville now was almost hidden in the mist,
+but I reached a road. I came to the first tavern of the environs; after
+a while to the first houses, then the road gave way to slippery cobbles,
+and I was in Seville. The Saints be praised!
+
+
+
+
+XXXII
+
+[Sidenote: Granada]
+
+
+To go from Seville to Granada is like coming out of the sunshine into
+deep shadow. I arrived, my mind full of Moorish pictures, expecting to
+find a vivid, tumultuous life; and I was ready with a prodigal hand to
+dash on the colours of my admiration. But Granada is a sad town, grey
+and empty; its people meander, melancholy, through the streets,
+unoccupied. It is a tradeless place living on the monuments which
+attract strangers, and like many a city famous for stirring history,
+seems utterly exhausted. Granada gave me an impression that it wished
+merely to be left alone to drag out its remaining days in peace, away
+from the advance of civilisation and the fervid hurrying of progress: it
+seemed like a great adventuress retired from the world after a life of
+vicissitude, anxious only to be forgotten, and after so much storm and
+stress to be nothing more than pious. There must be many descendants of
+the Moors, but the present population is wan and lifeless. They are
+taciturn, sombre folk, with nothing in them of the chattering and
+vivacious creatures of Arab history. Indeed, as I wandered through the
+streets, it was not the Moors that engaged my mind, but rather Ferdinand
+of Arragon and Isabella of Castille. Their grim strength over-powered
+the more graceful shadows of Moordom; and it was only by an effort that
+I recalled Gazul and Musa, most gallant and amorous of Paynim knights,
+tilting in the square, displaying incredible valour in the slaughter of
+savage bulls. I thought of the Catholic Kings, in full armour, riding
+with clank of steel through the captured streets. And the snowy summits
+of the Sierra Nevada, dazzling sometimes under the sun and the blue sky,
+but more often veiled with mist and capped by heavy clouds, grim and
+terrifying, lent a sort of tragic interest to the scene; so that I felt
+those grey masses, with their cloak of white, (they seemed near enough
+to overwhelm one,) made it impossible for the town built at their very
+feet, to give itself over altogether to flippancy.
+
+And for a while I found little of interest in Granada but the Alhambra.
+The gipsy quarter, with neither beauty, colour, nor even a touch of
+barbarism, is a squalid, brutal place, consisting of little dens built
+in the rock of the mountain which stands opposite the Alhambra. Worse
+than hovels, they are the lairs of wild beasts, foetid and oppressive,
+inhabited by debased creatures, with the low forehead, the copper skin,
+and the shifty cruel look of the Spanish gipsy. They surround the
+visitor in their rags and tatters, clamouring for alms, and for
+exorbitant sums proposing to dance. Even in the slums of great cities I
+have not seen a life more bestial. I tried to imagine what sort of
+existence these people led. In the old days the rock-dwellings among the
+cactus served the gipsies for winter quarters only, and when the spring
+came they set off, scouring the country for something to earn or steal;
+but that is long ago. For two generations they have remained in these
+hovels--year in, year out--employed in shoeing horses, shearing, and the
+like menial occupations which the Spaniard thinks beneath his dignity.
+The women tell fortunes, or dance for the foreigner, or worse. It is a
+mere struggle for daily bread. I wondered whether in the spring-time the
+young men loved the maidens, or if they only coupled like the beasts. I
+saw one pair who seemed quite newly wed; for their scanty furniture was
+new and they were young. The man, short and squat, sat scowling,
+cross-legged on a chair, a cigarette between his lips. The woman was
+taller and not ill-made, a slattern; her hair fell dishevelled on her
+back and over her forehead; her dress was open, displaying the bosom;
+her apron was filthy. But when she smiled, asking for money, her teeth
+were white and regular, and her eyes flashed darkly. She was attractive
+in a heavy sensual fashion, attractive and at the same time horribly
+repellant: she was the sort of woman who might fetter a man to herself
+by some degrading, insuperable passion, the true Carmen of the famous
+story whom a man might at once love and hate; so that though she dragged
+him to hell in shame and in despair, he would never find the strength to
+free himself. But where among that bastard race was the splendid desire
+for freedom of their fathers, the love of the fresh air of heaven and
+the untrammeled life of the fields?
+
+At first glance also the cathedral seemed devoid of charm. I suppose
+travellers seek emotions in the things they see, and often the more
+beautiful objects do not give the most vivid sensations. Painters
+complain that men of letters have written chiefly of second-rate
+pictures, but the literary sentiment is different from the artistic; and
+a masterpiece of Perugino may excite it less than a mediocre work of
+Guido Reni.
+
+The cathedral of Granada is said by the excellent Fergusson to be the
+most noteworthy example in Europe of early Renaissance architecture; its
+proportions are evidently admirable, and it is designed and carried out
+according to all the canons of the art. 'Looking at its plan only,' he
+says, 'this is certainly one of the finest churches in Europe. It would
+be difficult to point out any other, in which the central aisle leads up
+to the dome, so well proportioned to its dimensions, and to the dignity
+of the high altar which stands under it.' But though I vaguely
+recognised these perfections, though the spacing appeared fine and
+simple, and the columns had a certain majesty, I was left more than a
+little cold. The whitewash with which the interior is coated gives an
+unsympathetic impression, and the abundant light destroys that mystery
+which the poorest, gaudiest Spanish church almost invariably possesses.
+In the _Capilla de los Reyes_ are the elaborate monuments of the
+Catholic Kings, of their daughter Joan the Mad, and of Philip her
+husband; below, in the crypt, are four simple coffins, in which after so
+much grandeur, so much joy and sorrow, they rest. Indeed, for the two
+poor women who loved without requite, it was a life of pain almost
+unrelieved: it is a pitiful story, for all its magnificence, of Joan
+with her fiery passion for the handsome, faithless, worthless husband,
+and her mad jealousy; and of Isabella, with patient strength bearing
+every cross, always devoted to the man who tired of her quickly, and
+repaid her deep affection with naught but coldness and distrust.
+
+Queen Isabella's sword and sceptre are shown in the sacristry, and in
+contrast with the implement of war a beautiful cope, worked with her
+royal hands. And her crown also may be seen, one of the few I have come
+across which might really become the wearer, of silver, a masterpiece of
+delicate craftsmanship.
+
+But presently, returning to the cathedral and sitting in front of the
+high altar, I became at last conscious of its airy, restful grace. The
+chancel is very lofty. The base is a huge arcade which gives an effect
+of great lightness; and above are two rows of pictures, and still higher
+two rows of painted windows. The coloured glass throws the softest
+lights upon the altar and on the marble floor, rendering even quieter
+the low tints of the pictures. These are a series of illustrations of
+the life of the Blessed Virgin, painted by Alonzo Cano, a native of
+Valladolid, who killed his wife and came to Granada, whereupon those in
+power made him a prebendary. In the obscurity I could not see the
+paintings, but divined soft and pleasant things after the style of
+Murillo, and doubtless that was better than actually to see them. The
+pulpits are gorgeously carved in wood, and from the walls fly great
+angels with fine turbulence of golden drapery. And in the contrast of
+the soft white stone with the gold, which not even the most critical
+taste could complain was too richly spread, there is a delicate,
+fascinating lightness: the chancel has almost an Italian gaiety, which
+comes upon one oddly in the gloomy town. Here the decoration, the gilded
+virgins, the elaborate carving, do not oppress as elsewhere; the effect
+is too debonair and too refreshing. It is one colour more, one more
+distinction, in the complexity of the religious sentiment.
+
+* * *
+
+But if what I have said of Granada seems cold, it is because I did not
+easily catch the spirit of the place. For when you merely observe and
+admire some view, and if industrious make a note of your impression, and
+then go home to luncheon, you are but a vulgar tripper, scum of the
+earth, deserving the ridicule with which the natives treat you. The
+romantic spirit is your only justification; when by the comeliness of
+your life or the beauty of your emotion you have attained that, (Shelley
+when he visited Paestum had it, but Théophile Gautier, flaunting his red
+waistcoat _tras los montes_, was perhaps no better than a Cook's
+tourist,) then you are no longer unworthy of the loveliness which it is
+your privilege to see. When the old red brick and the green trees say to
+you hidden things, and the _vega_ and the mountains are stretched before
+you with a new significance, when at last the white houses with their
+brown tiles, and the labouring donkey, and the peasant at his plough,
+appeal to you so as to make, as it were, an exquisite pattern on your
+soul, then you may begin to find excuses for yourself. But you may see
+places long and often before they are thus magically revealed to you,
+and for myself I caught the real emotion of Granada but once, when from
+the Generalife I looked over the valley, the Generalife in which are
+mingled perhaps more admirably than anywhere else in Andalusia all the
+charm of Arabic architecture, of running water, and of cypress trees, of
+purple flags and dark red roses. It is a spot, indeed, fit for the
+plaintive creatures of poets to sing their loves, for Paolo and
+Francesca, for Juliet and Romeo; and I am glad that there I enjoyed such
+an exquisite moment.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+[Sidenote: The Alhambra]
+
+
+From the church of _San Nicolas_, on the other side of the valley, the
+Alhambra, like all Moorish buildings externally very plain, with its red
+walls and low, tiled roofs, looks like some old charter-house. Encircled
+by the fresh green of the spring-time, it lies along the summit of the
+hill with an infinite, most simple grace, dun and brown and deep red;
+and from the sultry wall on which I sat the elm-trees and the poplars
+seemed very cool. Thirstily, after the long drought, the Darro, the Arab
+stream which ran scarlet with the blood of Moorish strife, wound its way
+over its stony bed among the hills; and beyond, in strange contrast with
+all the fertility, was the grey and silent grandeur of the Sierra
+Nevada. Few places can be more charming than the green wood in which
+stands the stronghold of the Moorish kings; the wind sighs among the
+topmost branches and all about is the sweet sound of running water; in
+spring the ground is carpeted with violets, and the heavy foliage gives
+an enchanting coldness. A massive gateway, flanked by watch-towers,
+forms the approach; but the actual entrance, offering no hint of the
+incredible magnificence within, is an insignificant door.
+
+But then, then you are immediately transported to a magic palace,
+existing in some uncertain age of fancy, which does not seem the work of
+human hands, but rather of Jin, an enchanted dwelling of seven lovely
+damsels. It is barely conceivable that historical persons inhabited such
+a place. At the same time it explains the wonderful civilisation of the
+Moors in Spain, with their fantastic battles, their songs and strange
+histories; and it brings the _Arabian Nights_ into the bounds of sober
+reality: after he has seen the Alhambra none can doubt the literal truth
+of the stories of Sinbad the Sailor and of Hasan of Bassorah.
+
+* * *
+
+From the terrace that overlooks the city you enter the Court of
+Myrtles--a long pool of water with goldfish swimming to and fro,
+enclosed by myrtle hedges. At the ends are arcades, borne by marble
+columns with capitals of surpassing beauty. It is very quiet and very
+restful; the placid water gives an indescribable sensation of delight,
+and at the end mirrors the slender columns and the decorated arches so
+that in reflection you see the entrance to a second palace, which is
+filled with mysterious, beautiful things. But in the Alhambra the
+imagination finds itself at last out of its depth, it cannot conjure up
+chambers more beautiful than the reality presents. It serves only to
+recall the old inhabitants to the deserted halls.
+
+The Moors continually used inscriptions with great effect, and there is
+one in this court which surpasses all others in its oriental imagery, in
+praise of Mohammed V.: _Thou givest safety from the breeze to the
+blades of grass, and inspirest terror in the very stars of heaven. When
+the shining stars quiver, it is through dread of thee, and when the
+grass of the field bends down it is to give thee thanks._
+
+But it is the Hall of the Ambassadors which shows most fully the
+unparalleled splendour of Moorish decoration. It is a square room, very
+lofty, with alcoves on three sides, at the bottom of which are windows;
+and the walls are covered, from the dado of tiles to the roof, with the
+richest and most varied ornamentation. The Moorish workmen did not spare
+themselves nor economise their exuberant invention. One pattern follows
+another with infinite diversity. Even the alcoves, and there are nine,
+are covered each with different designs, so that the mind is bewildered
+by their graceful ingenuity. All kinds of geometrical figures are used,
+enlacing with graceful intricacy, intersecting, combining and
+dissolving; conventional foliage and fruit, Arabic inscriptions. An
+industrious person has counted more than one hundred and fifty patterns
+in the Hall of the Ambassadors, impressed with iron moulds on the moist
+plaster of the walls. The roof is a low dome of larch wood, intricately
+carved and inlaid with ivory and with mother-of-pearl; it has been
+likened to the faceted surface of an elaborately cut gem. The effect is
+so gorgeous that you are oppressed; you long for some perfectly plain
+space whereon to rest the eye; but every inch is covered.
+
+Now the walls have preserved only delicate tints of red and blue, pale
+Wedgwood blues and faded terracottas, that make with the ivory of the
+plaster most exquisite harmonies; but to accord with the tiles, their
+brilliancy still undiminished, the colours must have been very bright.
+The complicated patterns and the gay hues reproduce the oriental carpets
+of the nomad's tent; for from the tent, it is said, (I know not with
+what justification,) all oriental architecture is derived. The fragile
+columns upon which rest masses of masonry are, therefore, direct
+imitations of tent-poles, and the stalactite borders of the arches
+represent the fringe of the woven hangings. The Moorish architect paid
+no attention to the rules of architecture, and it has been well said
+that if they existed for him at all it was only that he might
+elaborately disregard them. His columns generally support nothing; his
+arcades, so delicately worked that they seem like carved ivory, are of
+the lightest wood and plaster.
+
+And it is curious that there should be such durability in those dainty
+materials: they express well the fatalism of the luxurious Moor, to whom
+the past and future were as nothing, and the transient hour all in all;
+yet they have outlasted him and his conqueror. The Spaniard, inglorious
+and decayed, is now but the showman to this magnificence; time has seen
+his greatness come and go, as came and went the greatness of the Moor,
+but still, for all its fragility, the Alhambra stands hardly less
+beautiful. Travellers have always been astonished at the small size of
+the Alhambra, especially of the Court of Lions; for here, though the
+proportion is admirable the scale is tiny; and many have supposed that
+the Moors were of less imposing physique than modern Europeans. The
+Court is surrounded by exquisite little columns, singly, in twos, in
+threes, supporting horseshoe arches; and in the centre is that beautiful
+fountain, borne by twelve lions with bristly manes, standing very
+stiffly, whereon is the inscription: _O thou who beholdest these lions
+crouching, fear not. Life is wanting to enable them to show their fury._
+
+Indeed, their surroundings have such a delicate and playful grace that
+it is hard to believe the Moors had any of our strenuous, latter-day
+passions. Life must have been to them a masque rather than a
+tragi-comedy; and whether they belong to sober history or no, those
+contests of which the curious may read in the lively pages of Gines
+Perez de Hita accord excellently with the fanciful environment. In the
+Alhambra nothing seems more reasonable than those never-ending duels in
+which, for a lady's favour, gallant knights gave one another such blows
+that the air rang with them, such wounds that the ground was red with
+blood; but at sunset they separated and bound up their wounds and
+returned to the palace. And the king, at the relation of the adventure,
+was filled with amazement and with great content.
+
+* * *
+
+Yet, notwithstanding, I find in the Alhambra something unsatisfying; for
+many an inferior piece of architecture has set my mind a-working so that
+I have dreamed charming dreams, or seen vividly the life of other times.
+But here, I know not why, my imagination helps me scarcely at all. The
+existence led within these gorgeous walls is too remote; there is but
+little to indicate the thoughts, the feelings, of these people, and one
+can take the Alhambra only as a thing of beauty, and despair to
+understand.
+
+I know that it is useless to attempt with words to give an idea of these
+numerous chambers and courts. A string of superlatives can do no more
+than tire the reader, an exact description can only confuse; nor is the
+painter able to give more than a suggestion of the bewildering charm.
+The effect is too emotional to be conveyed from man to man, and each
+must feel it for himself. Charles V. called him unhappy who had lost
+such treasure--_desgraciado el que tal perdio_--and showed his own
+appreciation by demolishing a part to build a Renaissance palace for
+himself! It appears that kings have not received from heaven with their
+right divine to govern wrong the inestimable gift of good taste; and for
+them possibly it is fortunate, since when, perchance, a sovereign has
+the artistic temperament, a discerning people--cuts off his head.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+[Sidenote: Boabdil the Unlucky]
+
+
+He was indeed unhappy who lost such treasure. The plain of Granada
+smiles with luxuriant crops, a beautiful country, gay with a hundred
+colours, and in summer when the corn is ripe it burns with vivid gold.
+The sun shines with fiery rays from the blue sky, and from the
+snow-capped mountains cool breezes temper the heat.
+
+But from his cradle Boabdil was unfortunate; soothsayers prophesied that
+his reign would see the downfall of the Moorish power, and his every
+step tended to that end. Never in human existence was more evident the
+mysterious power of the three sisters, the daughters of Night; the Fates
+had spun his destiny, they placed the pitfalls before his feet and
+closed his eyes that he might not see; they hid from him the way of
+escape. _Allah Achbar!_ It was destiny. In no other way can be explained
+the madness which sped the victims of that tragedy to their ruin; for
+with the enemy at their very gates, the Muslims set up and displaced
+kings, plotted and counterplotted. Boabdil was twice deposed and twice
+regained the throne. Even when the Christian kingdoms had united to
+consume the remnant of Moorish sovereignty the Moors could not cease
+their quarrelling. Boabdil looked on with satisfaction while the
+territory of the rival claimant to his crown was wrested from him, and
+did not understand that his turn must inevitably follow. Verily, the
+gods, wishing to destroy him, had deranged his mind. It is a pitiful
+history of treachery and folly that was enacted while the Catholic
+Sovereigns devoured the pomegranate, seed by seed.
+
+To me history, with its hopes bound to be frustrated and its useless
+efforts, sometimes is so terrible that I can hardly read. I feel myself
+like one who lives, knowing the inevitable future, and yet is powerless
+to help. I see the acts of the poor human puppets, and know the disaster
+that must follow. I wonder if the Calvinists ever realised the agony of
+that dark God of theirs, omniscient and yet so strangely weak, to whom
+the eternal majesty of heaven was insufficient to save the predestined
+from everlasting death.
+
+* * *
+
+On March 22, 1491, began the last siege of Granada.
+
+Ferdinand marched his army into the plain and began to destroy the
+crops, taking one by one the surrounding towns. He made no attempt upon
+the city itself, and hostilities were confined to skirmishes beneath the
+walls and single combats between Christian knights and Muslim cavaliers,
+wherein on either side prodigies of valour were performed. Through the
+summer the Moors were able to get provisions from the Sierra Nevada, but
+when, with winter, the produce of the earth grew less and its conveyance
+more difficult, famine began to make itself felt. The Moors consoled
+themselves with the hope that the besieging army would retire with the
+cold weather, for such in those days was the rule of warfare; but
+Ferdinand was in earnest. When an accidental fire burned his camp, he
+built him a town of solid stone and mortar, which he named Santa Fè. It
+stands still, the only town in Spain wherein a Moorish foot has never
+trod. Then the Muslims understood at last that the Spaniard would never
+again leave that fruitful land.
+
+And presently they began to talk of surrender; Spanish gold worked its
+way with Boabdil's councillors, and before winter was out the
+capitulation was signed.
+
+On the second day of the new year the final scene of the tragedy was
+acted. Early in the morning, before break of day, Boabdil had sent his
+mother and his wife with the treasure to precede him to the Alpuxarras,
+in which district, by the conditions of the treaty, Ferdinand had
+assigned him a little kingdom. Himself had one more duty to perform, and
+at the prearranged hour he sallied forth with a wretched escort of fifty
+knights. On the Spanish side the night had been spent in joy and
+feasting; but how must Boabdil have spent his, thinking of the
+inevitable morrow? To him the hours must have sped like minutes. What
+must have been the agony of his last look at the Alhambra, that jewel of
+incalculable price? Mendoza, the cardinal, had been sent forward to
+occupy the palace, and Boabdil passed him on the hill.
+
+Soon he reached Ferdinand, who was stationed near a mosque surrounded by
+all the glory of his Court, pennons flying, and knights in their
+magnificent array. Boabdil would have thrown himself from his horse in
+sign of homage to kiss the hand of the king of Arragon, but Ferdinand
+prevented him. Then Boabdil delivered the keys of the Alhambra to the
+victor, saying: 'They are thine, O king, since Allah so decrees it; use
+thy success with clemency and moderation.' Moving on sadly he saluted
+Isabella, and passed to rejoin his family; the Christians processioned
+to the city with psalm-singing.
+
+But when Boabdil was crossing the mountains he turned to look at the
+city he had lost, and burst into tears.
+
+'You do well,' said his mother, 'to weep like a woman for what you could
+not defend like a man.'
+
+'Alas!' he cried, 'when were woes ever equal to mine?'
+
+It was not to be expected that the pious Kings of Castille and Arragon
+would keep their word, and means were soon invented to hound the
+wretched Boabdil from the principality they had granted. He crossed to
+Africa, and settled in Fez, of which the Sultan was his kinsman. It is
+pathetic to learn that there he built himself a palace in imitation of
+the Alhambra. At last, after many years, he was killed in an obscure
+battle fighting against the Sultan's rebels, and the Arab historian
+finishes the account of him with these words: 'Wretched man! who could
+lose his life in another's cause, though he dared not die in his own!
+Such was the immutable decree of destiny. Blessed be Allah, who exalteth
+and abaseth the kings of the earth according to His divine will, in the
+fulfilment of which consists that eternal justice which regulates all
+human affairs.'
+
+In the day of El Makkary, the historian of the Moorish Empire, Boabdil's
+descendants had so fallen that they were nothing but common beggars,
+subsisting upon the charitable allowances made to the poor from the
+funds of the mosques.
+
+_One generation passeth away and another generation cometh: but the
+earth abideth for ever._
+
+
+
+
+XXXV
+
+[Sidenote: Los Pobres]
+
+
+People say that in Granada the beggars are more importunate than in any
+other Spanish town, but throughout Andalusia their pertinacity and
+number are amazing. They are licensed by the State, and the brass badge
+they wear makes them demand alms almost as a right. It is curious to
+find that the Spaniard, who is by no means a charitable being, gives
+very often to beggars--perhaps from superstitious motives, thinking
+their prayers will be of service, or fearing the evil eye, which may
+punish a refusal. Begging is quite an honourable profession in Spain;
+mendicants are charitably termed the poor, and not besmirched, as in
+England, with an opprobrious name.
+
+I have never seen so many beggars as in Andalusia; at every church door
+there will be a dozen, and they stand or sit at each street corner,
+halt, lame and blind. Every possible deformity is paraded to arouse
+charity. Some look as though their eyes had been torn out, and they
+glare at you with horrible bleeding sockets; most indeed are blind, and
+you seldom fail to hear their monotonous cry, sometimes naming the
+saint's day to attract particular persons: 'Alms for the love of God,
+for a poor blind man on this the day of St. John!' They stand from
+morning till night, motionless, with hand extended, repeating the words
+as the sound of footsteps tells them some one is approaching; and then,
+as a coin is put in their hands, say gracefully: '_Dios se lo pagara!_
+God will repay you.'
+
+In Spain you do not pass silently when a beggar demands alms, but pray
+his mercy for God's love to excuse you: '_Perdone Usted por el amor de
+Dios!_' Or else you beseech God to protect him: '_Dios le ampare!_' And
+the mendicant, coming to your gate, sometimes invokes the Immaculate
+Virgin.
+
+'_Ave Maria purissima!_' he calls.
+
+And you, tired of giving, reply: '_Y por siempre!_ And for ever.'
+
+He passes on, satisfied with your answer, and rings at the next door.
+
+It is not only in Burgos that Théophile Gautier might have admired the
+beggar's divine rags; everywhere they wrap their cloaks about them in
+the same magnificent fashion. The _capa_, I suppose, is the most
+graceful of all the garments of civilised man, and never more so than
+when it barely holds together, a mass of rags and patches, stained by
+the rain and bleached by the sun and wind. It hangs straight from the
+neck in big simple lines, or else is flung over one shoulder with a
+pompous wealth of folds.
+
+There is a strange immobility about Andalusian beggars which recalls
+their Moorish ancestry. They remain for hours in the same attitude,
+without moving a muscle; and one I knew in Seville stood day after day,
+from early morning till midnight, with hand outstretched in the same
+rather crooked position, never saying a word, but merely trusting to the
+passer-by to notice. The variety is amazing, men and women and children;
+and Seville at fair-time, or when the foreigners are coming for Holy
+Week, is like an enormous hospital. Mendicants assail you on all sides,
+the legless dragging themselves on their hands, the halt running towards
+you with a crutch, the blind led by wife or child, the deaf and dumb,
+the idiotic. I remember a woman with dead eyes and a huge hydrocephalic
+head, who sat in a bath-chair by one of the cathedral doors, and
+whenever people passed, cried shrilly for money in a high, unnatural
+voice. Sometimes they protrude maimed limbs, feetless legs or arms
+without hands; they display loathsome wounds, horribly inflamed; every
+variety of disease is shown to extort a copper. And so much is it a
+recognised trade that they have their properties, as it were: one old
+man whose legs had been shot away, trotted through the narrow streets of
+Seville on a diminutive ass, driving it into the shop-doors to demand
+his mite. Then there are the children, the little boys and girls that
+Murillo painted, barely covered by filthy rags, cherubs with black hair
+and shining eyes, the most importunate of all the tribe. The refusal of
+a halfpenny is followed impudently by demands for a cigarette, and as a
+last resort for a match; they wander about with keen eyes for
+cigar-ends, and no shred of a smoked leaf is too diminutive for them to
+get no further use from it.
+
+And beside all these are the blind fiddlers, scraping out old-fashioned
+tunes that were popular thirty years ago; the guitarists, singing the
+_flamenco_ songs which have been sung in Spain ever since the Moorish
+days; the buffoons, who extract tunes from a broomstick; the owners of
+performing dogs.
+
+They are a picturesque lot, neither vicious nor ill-humoured. Begging is
+a fairly profitable trade, and not a very hard one; in winter _el pobre_
+can always find a little sunshine, and in summer a little shade. It is
+no hardship for him to sit still all day; he would probably do little
+else if he were a millionaire. He looks upon life without bitterness;
+Fate has not been very kind, but it is certainly better to be a live
+beggar than a dead king, and things might have been ten thousand times
+worse. For instance, he might not have been born a Spaniard, and every
+man in his senses knows that Spain is the greatest nation on earth,
+while to be born a citizen of some other country is the most dreadful
+misfortune that can befall him. He has his licence from the State, and a
+charitable public sees that he does not absolutely starve; he has
+cigarettes to smoke--to say that a blind man cannot enjoy tobacco is
+evidently absurd--and therefore, all these things being so, why should
+he think life such a woeful matter? While it lasts the sun is there to
+shine equally on rich and poor, and afterwards will not a paternal
+government find a grave in the public cemetery? It is true that the
+beggar shares it with quite a number of worthy persons, doubtless most
+estimable corpses, and his coffin even is but a temporary
+convenience--but still, what does it matter?
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+[Sidenote: The Song]
+
+
+But the Moorish influence is nowhere more apparent than in the Spanish
+singing. There is nothing European in that quavering lament, in those
+long-drawn and monotonous notes, in those weird trills. The sounds are
+strange to the ear accustomed to less barbarous harmonies, and at first
+no melody is perceived; it is custom alone which teaches the sad and
+passionate charm of these things. A _malagueña_ is the particular
+complaint of the maid sorrowing for an absent lover, of the peasant who
+ploughs his field in the declining day. The long notes of such a song,
+floating across the silence of the night, are like a new melody on the
+great harpsichord of human sorrow. No emotion is more poignant than that
+given by the faint sad sounds of a Spanish song as one wanders through
+the deserted streets in the dead of night; or far in the country, with
+the sun setting red in the cloudless sky, when the stillness is broken
+only by the melancholy chanting of a shepherd among the olive-trees.
+
+An heritage of Moordom is the Spanish love for the improvisation of
+well-turned couplets; in olden days a skilful verse might procure the
+poet a dress of cloth-of-gold, and it did on one occasion actually
+raise a beggar-maid to a royal throne: even now it has power to secure
+the lover his lady's most tender smiles, or at the worst a glass of
+Manzanilla. The richness of the language helps him with his rhymes, and
+his southern imagination gives him manifold subjects. But, being the
+result of improvisation--no lady fair would consider the suit of a
+gallant who could not address her in couplets of his own devising--the
+Spanish song has a peculiar character. The various stanzas have no
+bearing upon one another; they consist of four or seven lines, but in
+either case each contains its definite sentiment; so that one verse may
+be a complete song, or the singer may continue as long as the muse
+prompts and his subject's charms occasion. The Spanish song is like a
+barbaric necklace in which all manner of different stones are strung
+upon a single cord, without thought for their mutual congruity.
+
+Naturally the vast majority of the innumerable couplets thus invented
+are forgotten as soon as sung, but now and then the fortuitous
+excellence of one impresses it on the maker's recollection, and it may
+be preserved. Here is an example which has been agreeably translated by
+Mr. J. W. Crombie; but neither original nor English rendering can give
+an adequate idea of the charm which depends on the oriental melancholy
+of the music:
+
+    Dos besos tengo en el alma
+    Que no se apartan de mí:
+    El ultimo de mi madre,
+    Y el primero que te di.
+
+    _Deep in my soul two kisses rest,_
+    _Forgot they ne'er shall be:_
+    _The last my mother's lips impressed,_
+    _The first I stole from thee._
+
+Here is another, the survival of which testifies to the Spanish extreme
+love of a compliment; and the somewhat hackneyed sentiment can only have
+made it more pleasant to the feminine ear:
+
+    Salga el sol, si ha de salir,
+    Y si no, que nunca salga;
+    Que para alumbrarme á mí
+    La luz de tus ojos basta.
+
+    _If the sun care to rise, let him rise,_
+    _But if not, let him ever lie hid;_
+    _For the light from my lady-love's eyes_
+    _Shines forth as the sun never did._
+
+It is a diverting spectacle to watch a professional improviser in the
+throes of inspiration. This is one of the stock 'turns' of the Spanish
+music-hall, and one of the most popular. I saw a woman in Granada, who
+was quite a celebrity; and the barbaric wildness of her performance,
+with its accompaniment of hand-clapping, discordant cries, and twanging
+of guitar, harmonised well with my impression of the sombre and mediæval
+city.
+
+She threaded her way to the stage among the crowded tables, through the
+auditorium, a sallow-faced creature, obese and large-boned, with coarse
+features and singularly ropy hair. She was accompanied by a fat small
+man with a guitar and a woman of mature age and ample proportions: it
+appeared that the cultivation of the muse, evidently more profitable
+than in England, conduced to adiposity. They stepped on the stage,
+taking chairs with them, for in Spain you do not stand to sing, and were
+greeted with plentiful applause. The little fat man began to play the
+long prelude to the couplet; the old woman clapped her hands and
+occasionally uttered a raucous cry. The poetess gazed into the air for
+inspiration. The guitarist twanged on, and in the audience there were
+scattered cries of _Ole!_ Her companions began to look at the singer
+anxiously, for the muse was somewhat slow; and she patted her knee and
+groaned; at last she gave a little start and smiled. _Ole! Ole!_ The
+inspiration had come. She gave a moan, which lengthened into the
+characteristic trill, and then began the couplet, beating time with her
+hands. Such an one as this:
+
+Suspires que de mí salgan,
+Y otros que de tí saldran,
+Si en el camino se encuentran
+Que de cosas se diran!
+
+_If all the sighs thy lips now shape_
+_Could meet upon the way_
+_With those that from mine own escape_
+_What things they'd have to say!_
+
+She finished, and all three rose from their chairs and withdrew them,
+but it was only a false exit; immediately the applause grew clamorous
+they sat down again, and the little fat man repeated his introduction.
+
+But this time there was no waiting. The singer had noticed a well-known
+bull-fighter and quickly rolled off a couplet in his praise. The
+subject beamed with delight, and the general enthusiasm knew no bounds.
+The people excitedly threw their hats on the stage, and these were
+followed by a shower of coppers, which the performers, more heedful to
+the compensation of Art than to its dignity, grovelled to picked up.
+
+* * *
+
+Here is a lover's praise of the whiteness of his lady's skin:
+
+    La neve por tu cara
+      Paso diciendo:
+    En donde no hago falta
+      No me detengo.
+
+    _Before thy brow the snow-flakes_
+      _Hurry past and say:_
+    _'Where we are not needed,_
+      _Wherefore should we stay?'_
+
+And this last, like the preceding translated by Mr. Crombie, shows once
+more how characteristic are Murillo's Holy Families of the popular
+sentiment:
+
+    La Virgen lava la ropa,
+    San José la esta tendiendo,
+    Santa Ana entretiene el niño,
+    Y el agua se va riendo.
+
+    _The Virgin is washing the clothes at the brook._
+    _And Saint Joseph hangs them to dry._
+    _Saint Anna plays with the Holy Babe,_
+    _And the water flows smiling by._
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+[Sidenote: Jerez]
+
+
+Jerez is the Andalusian sunshine again after the dark clouds of Granada.
+It is a little town in the middle of a fertile plain, clean and
+comfortable and spacious. It is one of the richest places in Spain; the
+houses have an opulent look, and without the help of Baedeker you may
+guess that they contain respectable persons with incomes, and carriages
+and horses, with frock-coats and gold watch-chains. I like the people of
+Jerez; their habitual expression suggests a consciousness that the
+Almighty is pleased with them, and they without doubt are well content
+with the Almighty. The main street, with its trim shops and its _cafés_,
+has the air of a French provincial town--an appearance of agreeable ease
+and dulness.
+
+Every building in Jerez is washed with lime, and in the sunlight the
+brilliancy is dazzling. You realise then that in Seville the houses are
+not white--although the general impression is of a white town--but, on
+the contrary, tinted with various colours from faintest pink to pale
+blue, pale green; they remind you of the summer dresses of women. The
+soft tones are all mingled with the sunlight and very restful. But Jerez
+is like a white banner floating under the cloudless sky, the pure white
+banner of Bacchus raised defiantly against the gaudy dyes of teetotalism
+and its shrieking trumpets.
+
+Jerez the White is, of course, the home of sherry, and the whole town is
+given over to the preparation of the grateful juice. The air is
+impregnated with a rich smell. The sun shines down on Jerez; and its
+cleanliness, its prosperity, are a rebuke to harsh-voiced contemners of
+the grape.
+
+You pass _bodega_ after _bodega_, cask-factories, bottle-factories. A
+bottle-factory is a curious, interesting place, an immense barn, sombre,
+so that the eye loses itself in the shadows of the roof; and the scanty
+light is red and lurid from the furnaces, which roar hoarsely and long.
+Against the glow the figures of men, half-naked, move silently,
+performing the actions of their craft with a monotonous regularity which
+is strange and solemn. They move to and fro, carrying an iron instrument
+on which is the molten mass of red-hot glass, and it gleams with an
+extraordinary warm brilliancy. It twists hither and thither in obedience
+to the artisan's deft movements; it coils and writhes into odd shapes,
+like a fire-snake curling in the torture of its own unearthly ardour.
+The men pass so regularly, with such a silent and exact precision, that
+it seems a weird and mystic measure they perform--a rhythmic dance of
+unimaginable intricacy, whose meaning you cannot gather and whose
+harmony escapes you. The flames leap and soar in a thousand savage
+forms, and their dull thunder fills your ears with a confusion of sound.
+Your eyes become accustomed to the dimness, and you discern more
+clearly the features of those swarthy men, bearded and gnome-like. But
+the molten mass has been put into the mould; you watch it withdrawn, the
+bottom indented, the mouth cut and shaped. And now it is complete, but
+still red-hot, and glowing with an infernal transparency, gem-like and
+wonderful; it is a bottle fit now for the juice of satanic vineyards,
+and the miraculous potions of eternal youth, for which men in the old
+days bartered their immortal souls.
+
+And the effect of a _bodega_ is picturesque, too, though in a different
+way. It is a bright and cheerful spot, a huge shed with whitewashed
+walls and an open roof supported by dark beams; great casks are piled
+up, impressing you in their vast rotundity with a sort of aldermanic
+stateliness. The whole place is fragrant with clean, vinous perfumes.
+Your guide carries a glass and a long filler. You taste wine after wine,
+in different shades of brown; light wines to drink with your dinner,
+older wines to drink before your coffee; wines more than a century old,
+of which the odour is more delicate than violets; new wines of the
+preceding year, strong and rough; Amontillados, with the softest flavour
+in the world; Manzanillas for the gouty; Marsalas, heavy and sweet;
+wines that smell of wild-flowers; cheap wines and expensive wines. Then
+the brandies--the distiller tells you proudly that Spanish brandy is
+made from wine, and contemptuously that French brandy is not--old
+brandies for which a toper would sell his soul; new brandies like
+fusel-oil; brandies mellow and mild and rich. It is a drunkard's
+paradise.
+
+And why should not the drinker have his paradise? The teetotallers have
+slapped their bosoms and vowed that liquor was the devil's own
+invention. (Note, by the way, that liquor is a noble word that should
+not be applied to those weak-kneed abominations that insolently flaunt
+their lack of alcohol. Let them be called liquids or fluids or
+beverages, or what you will. Liquor is a word for heroes, for the
+British tar who has built up British glory--Imperialism is quite the
+fashion now.) And for a hundred years none has dared lift his voice in
+refutation of these dyspeptic slanders. The toper did not care, he
+nursed his bottle and let the world say what it would; but the moderate
+drinker was abashed. Who will venture to say that a glass of beer gives
+savour to the humblest crust, and comforts Corydon, lamenting the
+inconstancy of Phyllis? Who will come forward and strike an attitude and
+prove the benefits of the grape? (The attitude is essential, for without
+it you cannot hope to impress your fellow men.) Rise up in your might,
+ye lovers of hop and grape and rye--rise up and slay the Egyptians. Be
+honest and thank your stars for the cup that cheers. Bacchus was not a
+pot-bellied old sot, but a beautiful youth with vine-leaves in his hair,
+Bacchus the lover of flowers; and Ariadne was charming.
+
+* * *
+
+The country about Jerez undulates in just such an easy comfortable
+fashion as you would expect. It is scenery of the gentlest and
+pleasantest type, sinuous; little hills rising with rounded lines and
+fertile valleys. The vines cover the whole land, creeping over the brown
+soil fantastically, black stumps, shrivelled and gnarled, tortured into
+uncouth shapes; they remind you of the creeping things in a naturalist's
+museum, of giant spiders and great dried centipedes and scorpions. But
+imagine the vineyards later, when the spring has stirred the earth with
+fecundity! The green shoots tenderly forth; at first it is all too
+delicate for a colour, it is but a mist of indescribable tenuity; and
+gradually the leaves burst out and trail along the ground with
+ever-increasing luxuriance; and then it is a rippling sea of passionate
+verdure.
+
+But I liked Jerez best towards evening, when the sun had set and the
+twilight glided through the tortuous alleys like a woman dressed in
+white. Then, as I walked in the silent streets, narrow and steep, with
+their cobble-paving, the white houses gained a new aspect. There seemed
+not a soul in the world, and the loneliness was more intoxicating than
+all their wines; the shining sun was gone, and the sky lost its blue
+richness, it became so pale that you felt it like a face of death--and
+the houses looked like long rows of tombs. We walked through the
+deserted streets, I and the woman dressed in white, side by side
+silently; our footsteps made no sound upon the stones. And Jerez was
+wrapped in a ghostly shroud. Ah, the beautiful things I have seen which
+other men have not!
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+[Sidenote: Cadiz]
+
+
+I admire the strenuous tourist who sets out in the morning with his
+well-thumbed Baedeker to examine the curiosities of a foreign town, but
+I do not follow in his steps; his eagerness after knowledge, his
+devotion to duty, compel my respect, but excite me to no imitation. I
+prefer to wander in old streets at random without a guide-book, trusting
+that fortune will bring me across things worth seeing; and if
+occasionally I miss some monument that is world-famous, more often I
+discover some little dainty piece of architecture, some scrap of
+decoration, that repays me for all else I lose. And in this fashion the
+less pretentious beauties of a town delight me, which, if I sought under
+the guidance of the industrious German, would seem perhaps scarcely
+worth the trouble. Nor do I know that there is in Cadiz much to attract
+the traveller beyond the grace with which it lies along the blue sea and
+the unstudied charm of its gardens, streets, and market-place; the echo
+in the cathedral to which the gaping tripper listens with astonishment
+leaves me unmoved; and in the church of _Santa Catalina_, which contains
+the last work of Murillo, upon which he was engaged at his death, I am
+more interested in the tall stout priest, unctuous and astute, who
+shows me his treasure, than in the picture itself. I am relieved now and
+again to visit a place that has no obvious claims on my admiration; it
+throws me back on the peculiarities of the people, on the stray
+incidents of the street, on the contents of the shops.
+
+Cadiz is said to be the gayest town in Andalusia. Spaniards have always
+a certain gravity; they are not very talkative, and like the English,
+take their pleasures a little sadly. But here lightness of heart is
+thought to reign supreme, and the inhabitants have not even the apparent
+seriousness with which the Sevillan cloaks a somewhat vacant mind. They
+are great theatre-goers, and as dancers, of course, have been famous
+since the world began. But I doubt whether Cadiz deserves its
+reputation, for it always seems to me a little prim. The streets are
+well-kept and spacious, the houses, taller than is usual in Andalusia,
+have almost as cared-for an appearance as those in a prosperous suburb
+of London; and it is only quite occasionally, when you catch a glimpse
+of tawny rock and of white breakwater against the blue sea, that by a
+reminiscence of Naples you can persuade yourself it is as immoral as
+they say. For, not unlike the Syren City, Cadiz lies white and cool
+along the bay, with gardens at the water's edge; but it has not the
+magic colour of its rival, it is quieter, smaller, more restful; and on
+the whole lacks that agreeable air of wickedness which the Italian town
+possesses to perfection. It is impossible to be a day in Naples without
+discovering that it is the most depraved city in Europe; there is
+something in the atmosphere which relaxes the moral fibre, and the
+churchwarden who keeps guard in the bosom of every Englishman falls
+asleep, so that you feel capable of committing far more than the seven
+deadly sins. Of course, you don't, but still it is comfortable to have
+them within reach.
+
+* * *
+
+I came across, while examining the wares of a vendor of antiquities, a
+contemporary narrative from the Spanish side of the attack made on Cadiz
+by Sir Francis Drake when he set out to singe the beard of Philip II.;
+and this induced me afterwards to look into the English story. It is far
+from me to wish to inform the reader, but the account is not
+undiverting, and shows, besides, a frame of mind which the Anglo-Saxon
+has not ceased to cultivate. 'But the Almighty God,' says the historian,
+'knowing and seeing his (the Spanish king's) wicked intent to punish,
+molest, and trouble His little flock, the children of Israel, hath
+raised up a faithful Moses for the defence of His chosen, and will not
+suffer His people utterly to fall into the hands of their enemies.'
+Drake set sail from Plymouth with four of her Majesty's ships, two
+pinnaces, and some twenty merchantmen. A vessel was sent after, charging
+him not to show hostilities, but the messenger, owing to contrary winds,
+could never come near the admiral, and vastly to the annoyance of the
+Virgin Queen, as she solemnly assured the ambassadors of foreign powers,
+had to sail home. Under the circumstances it was, perhaps, hardly
+discreet of her to take so large a share of the booty.
+
+Faithful Moses arrived in Cadiz, spreading horrid consternation, and the
+Spanish pamphlet shows very vividly the confusion of the enemy. It
+appears that, had he boldly landed, he might have sacked the town, but
+he imagined the preparations much greater than they were. However, he
+was not idle. 'The same night our general, having, by God's good favour
+and sufferance, opportunity to punish the enemy of God's true gospel and
+our daily adversary, and further willing to discharge his expected duty
+towards God, his peace and country, began to sink and fire divers of
+their ships.'
+
+The English fleet burned thirty sail of great burden, and captured vast
+quantities of the bread, wheat, wine and oil which had been prepared for
+the descent upon England. Sir Francis Drake himself remarks that 'the
+sight of the terrible fires were to us very pleasant, and mitigated the
+burden of our continual travail, wherein we were busied for two nights
+and one day, in discharging, firing, and lading of provisions.'
+
+* * *
+
+It is a curious thing to see entirely deserted a place of entertainment,
+where great numbers of people are in the habit of assembling. A theatre
+by day, without a soul in it, gives me always a sensation of the
+ridiculous futility of things; and a public garden towards evening
+offers the same emotion. On the morrow I was starting for Africa; I
+watched the sunset from the quays of Cadiz, the vapours of the twilight
+rise and envelop the ships in greyness, and I walked by the _alamadas_
+that stretch along the bay till I came to the park. The light was
+rapidly failing and I found myself alone. It had quaint avenues of
+short palms, evidently not long planted, and between them rows of yellow
+iron chairs arranged with great neatness and precision. It was there
+that on Sunday I had seen the populace disport itself, and it was full
+of life then, gay and insouciant. The fair ladies drove in their
+carriages, and the fine gentlemen, proud of their English clothes,
+lounged idly. The chairs were taken by all the lesser fry, by stout
+mothers, dragons attendant on dark-eyed girls, and their lovers in broad
+hats, in all the gala array of the _flamenco_. There was a joyous
+clamour of speech and laughter; the voices of Spanish women are harsh
+and unrestrained; the park sparkled with colour, and the sun caught the
+fluttering of countless fans.
+
+For those blithe people it seemed that there was no morrow: the present
+was there to be enjoyed, divine and various, and the world was full of
+beauty and of sunshine; merely to live was happiness enough; if there
+was pain or sorrow it served but to enhance the gladness. The hurrying
+hours for a while had ceased their journey. Life was a cup of red wine,
+and they were willing to drink its very dregs, a brimming cup in which
+there was no bitterness, but a joy more thrilling than the gods could
+give in all their paradise.
+
+But now I walked alone between the even rows of chairs. The little palms
+were so precise, with their careful foliage, that they did not look like
+real trees; the flower-beds were very stiff and neat, and now and then a
+pine stood out, erect and formal as if it were a cardboard tree from a
+Noah's Ark. The scene was so artificial that it brought to my mind the
+setting of a pantomime. I stopped, almost expecting a thousand
+ballet-girls to appear from the wings, scantily clad, and go through a
+measure to the playing of some sudden band, and retire and come forward
+till the stage was filled and a great tableau formed.
+
+But the day grew quite dim, and the vast stage remained empty. The
+painted scene became still more unreal, and presently the park was
+filled with the ghostly shapes of all the light-hearted people who had
+lived their hour and exhibited their youth in the empty garden. I heard
+the whispered compliments, and the soft laughter of the ladies; there
+was a peculiar little snap as gaily they closed their fans.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+[Sidenote: El Genero Chico]
+
+
+In the evening I wandered again along the quay, my thoughts part
+occupied with the novel things I expected from Morocco, part sorrowful
+because I must leave the scented land of Spain. I seemed never before to
+have enjoyed so intensely the exquisite softness of the air, and there
+was all about me a sense of spaciousness which gave a curious feeling of
+power. In the harbour, on the ships, the lights of the masts twinkled
+like the stars above; and looking over the stony parapet, I heard the
+waves lap against the granite like a long murmur of regret; I tried to
+pierce the darkness, straining my eyes to see some deeper obscurity
+which I might imagine to be the massive coasts of Africa. But at last I
+could bear the solitude no longer, and I dived into the labyrinth of
+streets.
+
+At first, in unfrequented ways, I passed people only one by one, some
+woman walking rapidly with averted face, or a pair of chattering
+students; but as I came near the centre of the town the passers-by grew
+more frequent, and suddenly I found myself in the midst of a thronging,
+noisy crowd. I looked up and saw that I was opposite a theatre; the
+people had just come from the second _funcion_. I had heard that the
+natives of Cadiz were eager theatre-goers, and was curious to see how
+they took this pleasure. I saw also that the next piece was _Las
+Borrachos_, a play of Seville life that I had often seen; and I felt
+that I could not spend my last evening better than in living again some
+of those scenes which pattered across my heart now like little sorrowful
+feet.
+
+* * *
+
+The theatre in Spain is the only thing that has developed further than
+in the rest of Europe--in fact, it has nearly developed clean away. The
+Spaniards were the first to confess that dramatic art bored them to
+death; and their habits rendered impossible the long play which took an
+evening to produce. Eating late, they did not wish to go to the theatre
+till past nine; being somewhat frivolous, they could not sit for more
+than an hour without going outside and talking to their friends; and
+they were poor. To satisfy their needs the _genero chico_, or little
+style, sprang into existence; and quickly every theatre in Spain was
+given over to the system of four houses a night. Each function is
+different, and the stall costs little more than sixpence.
+
+We English are idealists; and on the stage especially reality stinks in
+our nostrils. The poor are vulgar, and in our franker moments we confess
+our wish to have nothing to do with them. The middle classes are sordid;
+we have enough of them in real life, and no desire to observe their
+doings at the theatre, particularly when we wear our evening clothes.
+But when a dramatist presents duchesses to our admiring eyes, we feel
+at last in our element; we watch the acts of persons whom we would
+willingly meet at dinner, and our craving for the ideal is satisfied.
+
+But in Spain nobles are common and excite no overwhelming awe. The
+Spaniard, most democratic of Europeans, clamours for realism, and
+nothing pleases him more than a literal transcript of the life about
+him. The manners and customs of good society do not entertain him, and
+the _genero chico_ concerns itself almost exclusively with the lower
+classes. The bull-fighter is, of course, one of the most usual figures;
+and round him are gathered the lovers of the ring, inn-keepers, cobblers
+and carpenters, policemen, workmen, flower-sellers, street-singers,
+cigarette girls, country maidens. The little pieces are innumerable, and
+together form a compend of low life in Spain; the best are full of
+gaiety and high spirits, with a delicate feeling for character, and
+often enough are touched by a breath of poetry. Songs and dances are
+introduced, and these come in the more naturally since the action
+generally takes place on a holiday. The result is a musical comedy in
+one act; but with nothing in it of the entertainment which is a joy to
+the British public: an Andalusian audience would never stand that
+representation of an impossible and vulgar world in which the women are
+all trollops and the men, rips, nincompoops and bounders; they would
+never suffer the coarse humour and the shoddy patriotism.
+
+Unfortunately, these one-act plays have destroyed the legitimate drama.
+Whereas Maria Guerrero, that charming actress, will have a run of twenty
+nights in a new play by Echegaray, a popular _zarzuela_ will be acted
+hundreds of times in every town in Spain. But none can regret that the
+Spaniards have evolved these very national little pieces, and little has
+been lost in the non-existence of an indefinite number of imitations
+from the French. The _zarzuela_, I should add, lasts about an hour, and
+for the most part is divided into three scenes.
+
+Such a play as _Los Borrachos_ is nothing less than a _genre_ picture of
+Seville life. It reminds one of a painting by Teniers; and I should like
+to give some idea of it, since it is really one of the best examples of
+the class, witty, varied, and vivacious. But an obstacle presents itself
+in the fact that I can find no vestige of a plot. The authors set out to
+characterise the various lovers of the vine, (nowhere in Andalusia are
+the devotees of the yellow Manzanilla more numerous than in Seville,)
+and with telling strokes have drawn the good-natured tippler, the surly
+tippler, the religious tippler. To these they have added other types,
+which every Andalusian can recognise as old friends--the sharp-tongued
+harridan, the improviser of couplets with his ridiculous vanity, the
+flower-seller, and the 'prentice-boy of fifteen, who, notwithstanding
+his tender years, is afflicted with love for the dark-eyed heroine. The
+action takes place first in a street, then in a court-yard, lastly in a
+carpenter's shop. There are dainty love-scenes between Soledad, the
+distressed maiden, and Juanillo, the flower-seller; and one, very
+Spanish, where the witty and precocious apprentice offers her his
+diminutive hand and heart. Numerous people come and go, the drunkards
+drink and quarrel and make peace; the whole thing, if somewhat confused,
+is very life-like, and runs with admirable lightness and ease. It is
+true that the play has neither beginning nor end, but perhaps that only
+makes it seem the truer; and if the scenes have no obvious connection
+they are all amusing and characteristic. It is acted with extraordinary
+spirit. The players, indeed, are not acting, but living their ordinary
+lives, and it is pleasant to see the zest with which they throw
+themselves into the performance. When the hero presses the heroine in
+his arms, smiles and passionate glances pass between them, which suggest
+that even the love-making is not entirely make-believe.
+
+I wish I could translate the song which Juanillo sings when he passes
+his lady's window, bearing his basket of flowers:
+
+    Carnations for pretty girls that are true,
+    Musk-roses for pretty girls that are coy,
+    Rosebuds as small as thy mouth, my dearest,
+    And roses as fair as thy cheeks.
+
+I cannot, indeed, resist the temptation of giving one verse in that
+Andalusian dialect, from which all harsh consonants and unmusical sounds
+have been worn away--the most complete and perfect language in the world
+for lovers and the passion of love:
+
+      _Sal, morena, á tu ventana,_
+    _Mira las flores que traigo;_
+    _Sal y di si son bastantes_
+    _Pa arfombrita de tu cuarto._
+      _Que yo te quiero_
+      _Y a ti te doy_
+    _Tos los tesoros der mundo entero,_
+    _To le que vargo, to lo que soy._
+
+
+
+
+XL
+
+[Sidenote: Adios]
+
+
+And then the morrow was come. Getting up at five to catch my boat, I
+went down to the harbour; a grey mist hung over the sea, and the sun had
+barely risen, a pallid, yellow circle; the fishing-boats lolled on the
+smooth, dim water, and fishermen in little groups blew on their fingers.
+
+And from Cadiz I saw the shores of Spain sink into the sea; I saw my
+last of Andalusia. Who, when he leaves a place that he has loved, can
+help wondering when he will see it again? I asked the wind, and it
+sighed back the Spanish answer: '_Quien sabe?_ Who knows?' The traveller
+makes up his mind to return quickly, but all manner of things happen,
+and one accident or another prevents him; time passes till the desire is
+lost, and when at last he comes back, himself has altered or changes
+have occurred in the old places and all seems different. He looks quite
+coldly at what had given an intense emotion, and though he may see new
+things, the others hardly move him; it is not thus he imagined them in
+the years of waiting. And how can he tell what the future may have in
+store; perhaps, notwithstanding all his passionate desires, he will
+indeed never return.
+
+Of course the intention of this book is not to induce people to go to
+Spain: railway journeys are long and tedious, the trains crawl, and the
+hotels are bad. Experienced globe-trotters have told me that all
+mountains are very much alike, and that pictures, when you have seen a
+great many, offer no vast difference. It is much better to read books of
+travel than to travel oneself; he really enjoys foreign lands who never
+goes abroad; and the man who stays at home, preserving his illusions,
+has certainly the best of it. How delightful is the anticipation as he
+looks over time-tables and books of photographs, forming delightful
+images of future pleasure! But the reality is full of disappointment,
+and the more famous the monument the bitterer the disillusion. Has any
+one seen St. Peter's without asking himself: Is that all? And the truest
+enjoyment arises from things that come unexpectedly, that one had never
+heard of. Then, living in a strange land, one loses all impression of
+its strangeness; it is only afterwards, in England, that one realises
+the charm and longs to return; and a hundred pictures rise to fill the
+mind with delight. Why can one not be strong enough to leave it at that
+and never tempt the fates again?
+
+The wisest thing is to leave unvisited in every country some place that
+one wants very much to see. In Italy I have never been to Siena, and in
+Andalusia I have taken pains to avoid Malaga. The guide-books tell me
+there is nothing whatever to see there; and according to them it is
+merely a prosperous sea-port with a good climate. But to me, who have
+never seen it, Malaga is something very different; it is the very cream
+of Andalusia, where every trait and characteristic is refined to perfect
+expression.
+
+I imagine Malaga to be the most smiling town on the seaboard, and it
+lies along the shore ten times more charmingly than Cadiz. The houses
+are white, whiter than in Jerez; the patios are beautiful with oranges
+and palm-trees, and the dark green of the luxuriant foliage contrasts
+with the snowy walls. In Malaga the sky is always blue and the sun
+shines, but the narrow Arab streets are cool and shady. The passionate
+odours of Andalusia float in the air, the perfume of a myriad cigarettes
+and the fresh scent of fruit and flower. The blue sea lazily kisses the
+beach and fishing-boats bask on its bosom.
+
+In Malaga, for me, there are dark churches, with massive, tall pillars;
+the light falls softly through the painted glass, regilding the golden
+woodwork, the angels and the saints and the bishops in their mitres. The
+air is heavy with incense, and women in _mantillas_ kneel in the
+half-light, praying silently. Now and then I come across an old house
+with a fragment of Moorish work, reminding me that here again the Moors
+have left their mark.
+
+And in Malaga, for me, the women are more lovely than in Seville; for
+their dark eyes glitter marvellously, and their lips, so red and soft,
+are ever trembling with a half-formed smile. They are more graceful than
+the daffodils, their hands are lovers' sighs, and their voice is a
+caressing song. (What was your voice like, Rosarito? Alas! it is so long
+ago that I forget.) The men are tall and slender, with strong, clear
+features and shining eyes, deep sunken in their sockets.
+
+In Malaga, for me, life is a holiday in which there are no dullards and
+no bores; all the world is strong and young and full of health, and
+there is nothing to remind one of horrible things. Malaga, I know, is
+the most delightful place in Andalusia. Oh, how refreshing it is to get
+away from sober fact, but what a fool I should be ever to go there!
+
+* * *
+
+The steamer plods on against the wind slowly, and as the land sinks
+away, unsatisfied to leave the impressions hovering vaguely through my
+mind, I try to find the moral. The Englishman, ever somewhat
+sententiously inclined, asks what a place can teach him. The
+churchwarden in his bosom gives no constant, enduring peace; and after
+all, though he may be often ridiculous, it is the churchwarden who has
+made good part of England's greatness.
+
+And most obviously Andalusia suggests that it might not be ill to take
+things a little more easily: we English look upon life so very
+seriously, so much without humour. Is it worth while to be quite so
+strenuous? At the stations on the line between Jerez and Cadiz, I
+noticed again how calmly they took things; people lounged idly talking
+to one another; the officials of the railway smoked their cigarettes; no
+one was in a hurry, time was long, and whether the train arrived late or
+punctual could really matter much to no one. A beggar came to the
+window, a cigarette-end between his lips.
+
+'_Caballero!_ Alms for the love of God for a poor old man. God will
+repay you!'
+
+He passed slowly down the train. It waited for no reason; the passengers
+stared idly at the loungers on the platform, and they stared idly back.
+No one moved except to roll himself a cigarette. The sky was blue and
+the air warm and comforting. Life seemed good enough, and above all
+things easy. There was no particular cause to trouble. What is the use
+of hurrying to pile up money when one can live on so little? What is the
+use of reading these endless books? Why not let things slide a little,
+and just take what comes our way? It is only for a little while, and
+then the great antique mother receives us once more in her bosom. And
+there are so many people in the world. Think again of all the countless
+hordes who have come and gone, and who will come and go; the immense sea
+of Time covers them, and what matters the life they led? What odds is it
+that they ever existed at all? Let us do our best to be happy; the earth
+is good and sweet-smelling, there is sunshine and colour and youth and
+loveliness; and afterwards--well, let us shrug our shoulders and not
+think of it.
+
+And then in bitter irony, contradicting my moral, a train came in with a
+number of Cuban soldiers. There were above fifty of them, and they had
+to change at the junction. They reached out to open the carriage doors
+and crawled down to the platform. Some of them seemed at death's door;
+they could not walk, and chairs were brought that they might be carried;
+others leaned heavily on their companions. And they were dishevelled,
+with stubbly beards. But what struck me most was the deathly colour; for
+their faces were almost green, while round their sunken eyes were great
+white rings, and the white was ghastly, corpse-like. They trooped along
+in a dazed and listless fashion, wasted with fever, and now and then
+one stopped, shaken with a racking cough; he leaned against the wall,
+and put his hand to his heart as if the pain were unendurable. It was a
+pitiful sight. They were stunted and under-sized; they ceased to develop
+when they went to the cruel island, and they were puny creatures with
+hollow chests and thin powerless limbs; often, strangely enough, their
+faces had remained quite boyish. They were twenty or twenty-two, and
+they looked sixteen. And then, by the sight of those boys who had never
+known youth with its joyful flowers, doomed to a hopeless life, I was
+forced against my will to another moral. Perhaps some would recover, but
+the majority must drag on with ruined health, fever-stricken, dying one
+by one, falling like the unripe fruit of a rotten tree. They had no
+chance, poor wretches! They would return to their miserable homes; they
+could not work, and their people were too poor to keep them--so they
+must starve. Their lives were even shorter than those of the rest, and
+what pleasure had they had?
+
+And that is the result of the Spanish insouciance--death and corruption,
+loss of power and land and honour, the ruin of countless lives, and
+absolute decay. It is rather a bitter irony, isn't it? And now all they
+have left is their sunshine and the equanimity which nothing can
+disturb.
+
+Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. London & Edinburgh
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CASTILIAN DAYS. By Hon. J. HAY. Illustrated by JOSEPH PENNELL. In one
+vol., pott 4to, price 10s. net.
+
+ITALIAN JOURNEYS. By W. D. HOWELLS. Illustrated by JOSEPH PENNELL. In
+one vol., pott 4to, price 10s. net.
+
+A LITTLE TOUR IN FRANCE. By HENRY JAMES. Illustrated by JOSEPH PENNELL.
+In one vol., pott 4to, 10s. net.
+
+THE COUNTRY OF JESUS. By MATILDE SERAO. In one vol.
+
+LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
+21 BEDFORD STREET. W.C.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Land of The Blessed Virgin;
+Sketches and Impressions in Andalusia, by William Somerset Maugham
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IMPRESSIONS IN ANDALUSIA ***
+
+***** This file should be named 27252-8.txt or 27252-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/2/5/27252/
+
+Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/27252-8.zip b/27252-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..63473ee
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27252-8.zip
diff --git a/27252-h.zip b/27252-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..47789ee
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27252-h.zip
diff --git a/27252-h/27252-h.htm b/27252-h/27252-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c10d8cb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27252-h/27252-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,5669 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of
+The Land Of The Blessed Virgin, by William Somerset Maugham.
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
+<!--
+    p {  margin-top: .5em;
+         text-align: justify;
+         margin-bottom: .5em;
+         text-indent: 2%;
+         }
+    .box {border: solid 2px black;padding:2%;
+          margin:10% 30% 5% 30%;}
+    .hang {text-indent:-2%;
+          margin-left:2%;
+         }
+    .tb {margin-top:4%;}
+    h1 {margin-top:15%;
+         text-align: center;
+         clear: both;
+         }
+    h3 {text-align: center;
+        clear: both;margin-top:15%;margin-bottom:3%;
+           }
+    .top5 {margin-top: 5%;}
+    .top15 {margin-top: 15%;}
+    hr.full { width: 100%;
+              margin-top: 5%;
+              margin-bottom: 5%;
+              border: solid black;
+              height: 5px; }
+    table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;}
+    body{margin-left: 10%;
+         margin-right: 10%;
+         background:#fdfdfd;
+         color:black;
+         font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;
+         font-size: large;
+        }
+    .non {text-indent:0%;}
+   a:link {background-color: #ffffff; color: blue; text-decoration: none; }
+     link {background-color: #ffffff; color: blue; text-decoration: none; }
+   a:visited {background-color: #ffffff; color: blue; text-decoration: none; }
+   a:hover {background-color: #ffffff; color: red; text-decoration:underline; }
+    .smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;
+               font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;
+               font-size: large;
+               }
+    img {border: none;}
+    .blockquot{margin:5% 10% auto 10%;font-size:95%;}
+    .sidenote {width: 20%;padding: .5em 0em .55em 1em;
+               margin: 0.3em 0em .5em 1em;
+               float: right; clear: both;
+               font-size: 100%; color: black; background: #ffffff;
+               border: solid 1px black;}
+    .c {text-align: center;
+        text-indent: 0%;
+          }
+    .image {text-align: center;
+        text-indent: 0%;margin:15% auto 15% auto;
+          }
+    .footnotes        {border:none;margin-top:5%;}
+    .footnote         {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .footnote .label  {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right; font-size: 0.7em;}
+    .fnanchor         {vertical-align: super; font-size: .6em; text-decoration: none;}
+    .poem {margin-left:25%;
+           white-space:nowrap;
+           text-indent: 0%;
+          }
+    // -->
+    /* XML end  ]]>*/
+    </style>
+  </head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Land of The Blessed Virgin; Sketches
+and Impressions in Andalusia, by William Somerset Maugham
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Land of The Blessed Virgin; Sketches and Impressions in Andalusia
+
+Author: William Somerset Maugham
+
+Release Date: November 13, 2008 [EBook #27252]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IMPRESSIONS IN ANDALUSIA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p class="image"><img src="images/002.png"
+width="337" height="467"
+alt="image not available" /></p>
+
+<h1>THE LAND OF<br />THE BLESSED VIRGIN</h1>
+
+<p class="c">SKETCHES AND IMPRESSIONS IN<br />ANDALUSIA</p>
+
+<p class="c smcap top5">by</p>
+
+<p class="c">WILLIAM SOMERSET MAUGHAM</p>
+
+<p class="c smcap">(with frontispiece)</p>
+
+<p class="image"><img src="images/001.png"
+alt="image not available" /></p>
+
+
+<p class="c">LONDON<br />WILLIAM HEINEMANN</p>
+
+<p class="c smcap">MCMV</p>
+
+<p class="c"><i>All rights reserved</i></p>
+
+<p class="c top15">TO<br />
+VIOLET HUNT</p>
+
+<p class="c top15"><b>Contents</b></p>
+<table summary="toc" cellspacing="0"
+cellpadding="4"
+style="font-weight:600;
+font-size:95%;">
+<tr><td colspan="3" align="left">
+<span class="smcap">chapter</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#I">I.</a></td><td> The Spirit of Andalusia</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#II">II.</a></td><td> The Churches of Ronda</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#III">III.</a></td><td> Ronda</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#IV">IV.</a></td><td> The Swineherd</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#V">V.</a></td><td> Medinat Az-Zahra</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#VI">VI.</a></td><td> The Mosque</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#VII">VII.</a></td><td> The Court of Oranges</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#VIII">VIII.</a></td><td> Cordova</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#IX">IX.</a></td><td> The Bridge of Calahorra</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#X">X.</a></td><td> Puerta del Puente</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XI">XI.</a></td><td> Seville</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XII">XII.</a></td><td> The Alcazar</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XIII">XIII.</a></td><td> Calle de las Sierpes</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XIV">XIV.</a></td><td> Characteristics</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XV">XV.</a></td><td> Don Juan Tenorio</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XVI">XVI.</a></td><td> Women of Andalusia</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XVII">XVII.</a></td><td> The Dance</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XVIII">XVIII.</a></td><td> A Feast Day</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XIX">XIX.</a></td><td> The Giralda</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XX">XX.</a></td><td> The Cathedral of Seville</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXI">XXI.</a></td><td> The Hospital of Charity</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXII">XXII.</a></td><td> Gaol</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXIII">XXIII.</a></td><td> Before the Bull-Fight</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXIV">XXIV.</a></td><td> Corrida de Toros&mdash;I.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXV">XXV.</a></td><td> Corrida de Toros&mdash;II</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXVI">XXVI.</a></td><td> On Horseback</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXVII">XXVII.</a></td><td> By the Road&mdash;I.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXVIII">XXVIII.</a></td><td> By the Road&mdash;II.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXIX">XXIX.</a></td><td> Ecija</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXX">XXX.</a></td><td> Wind and Storm</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXXI">XXXI.</a></td><td> Two Villages</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXXII">XXXII.</a></td><td> Granada</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXXIII">XXXIII.</a></td><td> The Alhambra</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXXIV">XXXIV.</a></td><td> Boabdil the Unlucky</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXXV">XXXV.</a></td><td> Los Pobres</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXXVI">XXXVI.</a></td><td> The Song</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXXVII">XXXVII.</a></td><td> Jerez</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXXVIII">XXXVIII.</a></td><td> Cadiz</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XXXIX">XXXIX.</a></td><td> El Genero Chico</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XL">XL.</a></td><td> Adios</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<h3><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Spirit of Andalusia</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">After</span> one has left a country it is interesting to collect together the
+emotions it has given in an effort to define its particular character.
+And with Andalusia the attempt is especially fascinating, for it is a
+land of contrasts in which work upon one another, diversely, a hundred
+influences.</p>
+
+<p>In London now, as I write, the rain of an English April pours down; the
+sky is leaden and cold, the houses in front of me are almost terrible in
+their monotonous greyness, the slate roofs are shining with the wet. Now
+and again people pass: a woman of the slums in a dirty apron, her head
+wrapped in a grey shawl; two girls in waterproofs, trim and alert
+notwithstanding the inclement weather, one with a music-case under her
+arm. A train arrives at an underground station and a score of city folk
+cross my window, sheltered behind their umbrellas; and two or three
+groups of workmen, silently, smoking short pipes: they walk with a dull,
+heavy tramp, with the gait of strong men who are very tired. Still the
+rain pours down unceasing.</p>
+
+<p>And I think of Andalusia. My mind is suddenly ablaze with its sunshine,
+with its opulent colour, luminous and soft; I think of the cities, the
+white cities bathed in light; of the desolate wastes of sand, with their
+dwarf palms, the broom in flower. And in my ears I hear the twang of the
+guitar, the rhythmical clapping of hands and the castanets, as two girls
+dance in the sunlight on a holiday. I see the crowds going to the
+bull-fight, intensely living, many-coloured. And a thousand scents are
+wafted across my memory; I remember the cloudless nights, the silence of
+sleeping towns, and the silence of desert country; I remember old
+whitewashed taverns, and the perfumed wines of Malaga, of Jerez, and of
+Manzanilla. (The rain pours down without stay in oblique long lines, the
+light is quickly failing, the street is sad and very cheerless.) I feel
+on my shoulder the touch of dainty hands, of little hands with tapering
+fingers, and on my mouth the kisses of red lips, and I hear a joyous
+laugh. I remember the voice that bade me farewell that last night in
+Seville, and the gleam of dark eyes and dark hair at the foot of the
+stairs, as I looked back from the gate. '<i>Feliz viage, mi Inglesito.</i>'</p>
+
+<p>It was not love I felt for you, Rosarito; I wish it had been; but now
+far away, in the rain, I fancy, (oh no, not that I am at last in love,)
+but perhaps that I am just faintly enamoured&mdash;of your recollection.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">But these are all Spanish things, and more than half one's impressions
+of Andalusia are connected with the Moors. Not only did they make
+exquisite buildings, they moulded a whole people to their likeness; the
+Andalusian character is rich with Oriental traits; the houses, the mode
+of life, the very atmosphere is Moorish rather than Christian; to this
+day the peasant at his plough sings the same quavering lament that sang
+the Moor. And it is to the invaders that Spain as a country owes the
+magnificence of its golden age: it was contact with them that gave the
+Spaniards cultivation; it was the conflict of seven hundred years that
+made them the best soldiers in Europe, and masters of half the world.
+The long struggle caused that tension of spirit which led to the
+adventurous descent upon America, teaching recklessness of life and the
+fascination of unknown dangers; and it caused their downfall as it had
+caused their rise, for the religious element in the racial war
+occasioned the most cruel bigotry that has existed on the face of the
+earth, so that the victors suffered as terribly as the vanquished. The
+Moors, hounded out of Spain, took with them their arts and
+handicrafts&mdash;as the Huguenots from France after the revocation of the
+Edict of Nantes&mdash;and though for a while the light of Spain burnt very
+brightly, the light borrowed from Moordom, the oil jar was broken and
+the lamp flickered out.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">In most countries there is one person in particular who seems to typify
+the race, whose works are the synthesis, as it were, of an entire
+people. Bernini expressed in this manner a whole age of Italian society;
+and even now his spirit haunts you as you read the gorgeous sins of
+Roman noblemen in the pages of Gabriele d'Annunzio. And Murillo, though
+the expert not unjustly from their special point of view, see in him but
+a mediocre artist, in the same way is the very quintessence of Southern
+Spain. Wielders of the brush, occupied chiefly with technique, are apt
+to discern little in an old master, save the craftsman; yet art is no
+more than a link in the chain of life and cannot be sharply sundered
+from the civilisation of which it is an outcome: even Velasquez, sans
+peer, sans parallel, throws a curious light on the world of his day, and
+the cleverest painters would find their knowledge and understanding of
+that great genius the fuller if they were acquainted with the plays of
+Lope de la Vega and the satires of Quevedo. Notwithstanding Murillo's
+obvious faults, as you walk through the museum at Seville all Andalusia
+appears before you. Nothing could be more characteristic than the
+religious feeling of the many pictures, than the exuberant fancy and
+utter lack of idealisation: in the contrast between a Holy Family by
+Murillo and one by Perugino is all the difference between Spain and
+Italy. Murillo's Virgin is a peasant girl such as you may see in any
+village round Seville on a feast-day; her emotions are purely human, and
+in her face is nothing more than the intense love of a mother for her
+child. But the Italian shows a creature not of earth, an angelic maid
+with almond eyes, oval of face: she has a strange air of unrealness, for
+her body is not of human flesh and blood, and she is linked with mankind
+only by an infinite sadness; she seems to see already the Dolorous Way,
+and her eyes are heavy with countless unwept tears.</p>
+
+<p>One picture especially, that which the painter himself thought his best
+work, <i>Saint Thomas of Villanueva distributing Alms</i>, to my mind offers
+the entire impression of that full life of Andalusia. In the splendour
+of mitre and of pastoral staff, in the sober magnificence of
+architecture, is all the opulence of the Catholic Church; in the worn,
+patient, ascetic face of the saint is the mystic, fervid piety which
+distinguished so wonderfully the warlike and barbarous Spain of the
+sixteenth century; and lastly, in the beggars covered with sores, pale,
+starving, with their malodorous rags, you feel strangely the swarming
+poverty of the vast population, downtrodden and vivacious, which you
+read of in the picaresque novels of a later day. And these same
+characteristics, the deep religious feeling, the splendour, the poverty,
+the extreme sense of vigorous life, the discerning may find even now
+among the Andalusians for all the modern modes with which, as with coats
+of London and bonnets of Paris, they have sought to liken themselves to
+the rest of Europe.</p>
+
+<p>And the colours of Murillo's palette are the typical colours of
+Andalusia, rich, hot, and deep&mdash;again contrasting with the enamelled
+brilliance of the Umbrians. He seems to have charged his brush with the
+very light and atmosphere of Seville; the country bathed in the
+splendour of an August sun has just the luminous character, the haziness
+of contour, which characterise the paintings of Murillo's latest manner.
+They say he adopted the style termed <i>vaporoso</i> for greater rapidity of
+execution, but he cannot have lived all his life in that radiant
+atmosphere without being impregnated with it. In Andalusia there is a
+quality of the air which gives all things a limpid, brilliant softness,
+the sea of gold poured out upon them voluptuously rounds away their
+outlines; and one can well imagine that the master deemed it the
+culmination of his art when he painted with the same aureate effulgence,
+when he put on canvas those gorgeous tints and that exquisite
+mellowness.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Churches of Ronda</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">That</span> necessity of realism which is, perhaps, the most conspicuous of
+Spanish traits, shows itself nowhere more obviously than in matters
+religious. It is a very listless emotion that is satisfied with the
+shadow of the ideal; and the belief of the Andaluz is an intensely
+living thing, into which he throws himself with a vehemence that
+requires the nude and brutal fact. His saints must be fashioned after
+his own likeness, for he has small power of make-believe, and needs all
+manner of substantial accessories to establish his faith. But then he
+treats the images as living persons, and it never occurs to him to pray
+to the Saint in Paradise while kneeling before his presentment upon
+earth. The Spanish girl at the altar of <i>Mater Dolorosa</i> prays to a
+veritable woman, able to speak if so she wills, able to descend from the
+golden shrine to comfort the devout worshipper. To her nothing is more
+real than these Madonnas, with their dark eyes and their abundant hair:
+<i>Maria del Pilar</i>, who is Mary of the Fountain, <i>Maria del Rosario</i>, who
+is Mary of the Rosary, <i>Maria de los Dolores</i>, <i>Maria del Carmen</i>,
+<i>Maria de los Angeles</i>. And they wear magnificent gowns of brocade and
+of cloth-of-gold, mantles heavily embroidered, shoes, rings on their
+fingers, rich jewels about their necks.</p>
+
+<p>In a little town like Ronda, so entirely apart from the world,
+poverty-stricken, this desire for realism makes a curiously strong
+impression. The churches, coated with whitewash, are squalid, cold and
+depressing; and at first sight the row of images looks nothing more than
+a somewhat vulgar exhibition of wax-work. But presently, as I lingered,
+the very poverty of it all touched me; and forgetting the grotesqueness,
+I perceived that some of the saints in their elaborate dresses were
+quite charming and graceful. In the church of <i>Santa Maria la Mayor</i> was
+a Saint Catherine in rich habiliments of red brocade, with a white
+<i>mantilla</i> arranged as only a Spanish woman could arrange it. She might
+have been a young gentlewoman of fifty years back when costume was gayer
+than nowadays, arrayed for a fashionable wedding or for a bull-fight.
+And in another church I saw a youthful Saint in priest's robes, a
+cassock of black silk and a short surplice of exquisite lace; he held a
+bunch of lilies in his hand and looked very gently, his lips almost
+trembling to a smile. One can imagine that not to them would come the
+suppliant with a heavy despair, they would be merely pained at their
+helplessness before the tears of the grief that kills and the woe of
+mothers sorrowing for their sons. But when the black-eyed maiden knelt
+before the priest, courtly and debonair, begging him to send a husband
+quickly, his lips surely would control themselves no longer, and his
+smile would set the damsel's cheek a-blushing. And if a youth knelt
+before Saint Catherine in her dainty <i>mantilla</i>, and vowed his heart was
+breaking because his love gave him stony glances, she would look very
+graciously upon him, so that his courage was restored, and he promised
+her a silver heart as lovers in Greece made votive offerings to
+Aphrodite.</p>
+
+<p>At the Church of the <i>Espirito Santo</i>, in a little chapel behind one of
+the transept altars, I saw, through a huge rococo frame of gilded wood,
+a <i>Maria de los Dolores</i> that was almost terrifying in poignant realism.
+She wore a robe of black damask, which stood as if it were cast of
+bronze in heavy, austere folds, a velvet cloak decorated with the old
+lace known as <i>rose point d'Espagne</i>; and on her head a massive imperial
+diadem, and a golden aureole. Seven candles burned before her; and at
+vespers, when the church was nearly dark, they threw a cold, sharp light
+upon her countenance. Her eyes were in deep shadow, strangely
+mysterious, and they made the face, so small beneath the pompous crown,
+horribly life-like: you could not see the tears, but you felt they were
+eyes which would never cease from weeping.</p>
+
+<p>I suppose it was all tawdry and vulgar and common, but a woman knelt in
+front of the Mother of Sorrows, praying, a poor woman in a ragged shawl;
+I heard a sob, and saw that she was weeping; she sought to restrain
+herself and in the effort a tremor passed through her body, and she drew
+the shawl more closely round her.</p>
+
+<p>I walked away, and came presently to the most cruel of all these images.
+It was a <i>Pietà</i>. The Mother held on her knees the dead Son, looking in
+His face, and it was a ghastly contrast between her royal array and His
+naked body. She, too, wore the imperial crown, with its golden aureole,
+and her cloak was of damask embroidered with heavy gold. Her hair fell
+in curling abundance about her breast, and the sacristan told me it was
+the hair of a lady who had lost her husband and her only son. But the
+dead Christ was terrible, His face half hidden by the long straight
+hair, long as a woman's, and His body thin and all discoloured: from the
+wounds thick blood poured out, and their edges were swollen and red; the
+broken knees, the feet and hands, were purple and green with the
+beginning of putrefaction.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Ronda</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">Ronda</span> is set deep among the mountains between Algeciras and Seville;
+they hem it in on all sides, and it straggles up and down little hills,
+timidly, as though its presence were an affront to the wild rocks around
+it. The houses are huddled against the churches, which look like portly
+hens squatting with ruffled feathers, while their chicks, for warmth,
+press up against them. It is very cold in Ronda. I saw it first quite
+early: over the town hung a grey mist shining in the sunlight, and the
+mountains, opalescent in the morning glow, were so luminous that they
+seemed hardly solid; they looked as if one could walk through them. The
+people, covering their mouths in dread of a <i>pulmonia</i>, hastened by,
+closely muffled in long cloaks. As I passed the open doors I saw them
+standing round the <i>brasero</i>, warming themselves; for fireplaces are
+unknown to Andalusia, the only means of heat being the <i>copa</i>, a round
+brass dish in which is placed burning charcoal.</p>
+
+<p>The height and the cold give Ronda a character which reminds one of
+Northern Spain; the roofs are quite steep, the houses low and small,
+built for warmth rather than, as in the rest of Andalusia, for
+coolness.</p>
+
+<p>But the whitewash and the barred windows with their wooden lattice-work,
+remind you that you are in Moorish country, in the very heart of it; and
+Ronda, indeed, figures in chronicles and in old ballads as a stronghold
+of the invaders. The temperature affects the habits of the people, even
+their appearance: there is no lounging about the squares or at the doors
+of wine-shops, the streets are deserted and their great breadth makes
+the emptiness more apparent. The first setters out of the town had no
+need to make the ways narrow for the sake of shade, and they are, in
+fact, so broad that the houses on either side might be laid on their
+faces, and there would still be room for the rapid stream which hurries
+down the middle.</p>
+
+<p>The conformation of a Spanish town, even though it lack museums and fine
+buildings, gives it an interest beyond that of most European places. The
+Moorish design is always evident. That wise people laid out the streets
+as was most convenient, tortuous and narrow at Cordova or broad as a
+king's highway in Ronda. The Moors stayed their time, and their hour
+struck, and they went; the houses had fallen to decay and been more than
+once rebuilt. The Christians returned and Mahomet fled before the
+Saints; (it was no shame since they grossly out-numbered him;) the
+mosque was made a church, and the houses as they fell were built again,
+but on the same foundations and in the same way. The streets have
+remained as the Moors left them, the houses still are built round little
+courtyards&mdash;the <i>patio</i>&mdash;as the Moors built them; and the windows are
+barred and latticed as of old, the better to protect beauty whose dark
+eyes flash too meaningly at wandering strangers, whose red lips are over
+ready to break into a smile for the peace of an absent husband.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">After the busy clamour of Gibraltar, that ant-nest of a hundred
+nationalities, Ronda impresses you by its peculiar silence. The lack of
+sound is the more noticeable in the frosty clearness of the atmosphere,
+and is only emphasised by an occasional cry that floats, from some vast
+distance, along the air. The coldness, too, has pinched the features of
+the people, and they seem to grow old even earlier than in the rest of
+Andalusia. Strapping fellows of thirty with slim figures and a youthful
+air have the faces of elderly men, and their skin is hard, stained and
+furrowed. The women, ageing as rapidly, have no gaiety. If Spanish girls
+have frequently a beautiful youth, their age too often is atrocious: it
+is inconceivable that a handsome woman should become so fearful a hag;
+the luxuriant hair is lost, and she takes no pains to conceal her grey
+baldness, the eye loses its light, the enchanting down of the upper lip
+turns to a bristly moustache; the features harden, grow coarse and
+vulgar; and the countenance assumes a rapacious expression, so that she
+appears a bird of prey; and her strident voice is like the shriek of
+vultures. It is easily comprehensible that the Spanish stage should have
+taken the old woman as one of its most constant, characteristic types.
+But in Ronda even the girls have a weary look, as though life were not
+so easy a matter as in warmer places, or as the good God intended; and
+they seem to suffer from the brevity of youth, which is no sooner come
+than gone. They walk inertly, clothed in sombre colours, their hair not
+elaborately arranged as would have it the poorest cigarette-girl, but
+merely knotted, without the flower which the Sevillan is popularly said
+to insist upon even at the cost of a dinner. And when they go out the
+grey shawls they wrap about their heads add to their unattractiveness.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Swineherd</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">But</span> if Ronda itself is a somewhat dull and unsympathetic place with
+nothing more for the edification of the visitor than a melodramatic
+chasm, the surrounding country is worthy the most extravagant epithets.
+The mountains have the gloomy barrenness, the slate-grey colour of
+volcanic ranges; they encircle the town in a gigantic amphitheatre,
+rugged and overbearing like Titans turned to stone. They seem, indeed,
+to wear a sombre insolence of demeanour as though the aspect of human
+kind moved them to lofty contempt. And in their magnificent desolation
+they offer a fit environment for the exploits of Byronic heroes. The
+handsome villain of romance, seductive by the complexity of his
+emotions, by the persistence of his mysterious grief, would find himself
+in that theatrical scene most thoroughly at home; nor did Prosper
+Mérimée fail to seize the opportunity, for the mountains of Ronda were
+the very hunting-ground of Don Josè, who lost his soul for Carmen. But
+as a matter of history they were likewise the haunts of brigands in
+flesh and blood&mdash;malefactors in the past had that sense of the
+picturesque which now is vested in the amateur photographer&mdash;and this
+particular district was as dangerous to the travelling merchant as any
+in Spain.</p>
+
+<p>The environs of Ronda are barren and unfertile, the olive groves bear
+little fruit. I wandered through the lonely country, towards the
+mountains; the day was overcast and the clouds hung sluggishly overhead.
+As I walked, suddenly I heard a melancholy voice singing a peasant song,
+a <i>malagueña</i>. I paused to listen, but the sadness was almost
+unendurable; and it went on interminably, wailing through the air with
+the insistent monotony of its Moorish origin. I struck into the olives
+to find the singer and met a swineherd, guarding a dozen brown pigs, a
+youth thin of face, with dark eyes, clothed in undressed sheep-skins;
+and the brown wool gave him a singular appearance of community with the
+earth about him. He stood among the trees like a wild creature, more
+beast than man, and the lank, busy pigs burrowed around him, running to
+and fro, with little squeals. He ceased his song when I approached and
+looked up timidly. I spoke to him but he made no answer, I offered a
+cigarette but he shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>I went my way, and at first the road was not quite solitary. Two men
+passed me on donkeys. '<i>Vaya Usted con Dios!</i>' they cried&mdash;'Go you with
+God': it is the commonest greeting in Spain, and the most charming; the
+roughest peasant calls it as you meet him. A dozen grey asses went
+towards Ronda, one after the other, their panniers filled with stones;
+they walked with hanging heads, resigned to all their pain. But when at
+last I came into the mountains the loneliness was terrible. Not even
+the olive grew on those dark masses of rock, windswept and sterile;
+there was not a hut nor a cottage to testify of man's existence, not
+even a path such as the wild things of the heights might use. All life,
+indeed, appeared incongruous with that overwhelming solitude.</p>
+
+<p>Daylight was waning as I returned, but when I passed the olive-grove,
+where many hours before I had heard the <i>malagueña</i>, the same monotonous
+song still moaned along the air, carrying back my thoughts to the
+swineherd. I wondered what he thought of while he sang, whether the sad
+words brought him some dim emotion. How curious was the life he led! I
+suppose he had never travelled further than his native town; he could
+neither write nor read. Madrid to him was a city where the streets were
+paved with silver and the King's palace was of fine gold. He was born
+and grew to manhood and tended his swine, and some day he would marry
+and beget children, and at length die and return to the Mother of all
+things. It seemed to me that nowadays, when civilisation has become the
+mainstay of our lives, it is only with such beings as these that it is
+possible to realise the closeness of the tie between mankind and nature.
+To the poor herdsman still clung the soil; he was no foreign element in
+the scene, but as much part of it as the stunted olives, belonging to
+the earth intimately as the trees among which he stood, as the beasts he
+tended.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">When I came near the town the sun was setting. In the west, tempestuous
+clouds were massed upon one another, and the sun shone blood-red above
+them; but as it sank they were riven asunder, and I saw a great furnace
+that lit up the whole sky. The mountains were purple, unreal as the
+painted mountains of a picture. The light was gone from the east, and
+there everything was chill and grey; the barren rocks looked so desolate
+that one shuddered with horror of the cold. But the sun fell gold and
+red, and the rift in the clouds was a kingdom of gorgeous light; the
+earth and its petty inhabitants died away, and in the crimson flame I
+could almost see Lucifer standing in his glory, god-like and young;
+Lucifer in all majesty, surrounded by his court of archangels,
+Beelzebub, Belial, Moloch, Abaddon.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">I had discovered in the morning, from the steeple of <i>Santa Maria</i>, a
+queer ruined church, and was oddly impressed by the bare façade, with
+the yawning apertures of empty windows. I went to it, but every entrance
+was bricked up save one, which had a door of rough boards fastened by a
+padlock; and in a neighbouring house I found an old man with a key. It
+was a spot of utter desolation; the roof had gone or had never been. The
+custodian could not tell whether the church was the wreck of an old
+building or a framework that had never been completed; the walls were
+falling to decay. Along the nave and in the chapels trees were growing,
+shrubs and rank weeds; it was curious the utter ruin in the midst of the
+populous town. Pigs ran hither and thither, feeding, with noisy grunts,
+as they burrowed about the crumbling altar.</p>
+
+<p>The old man inquired whether I wished to buy the absolute uselessness
+of the place fascinated me. I asked the price. He looked me up and down,
+and seeing I was foreign, suggested a ridiculous sum. And while I amused
+myself with bargaining, I wondered what on earth one could do with a
+ruined church in Ronda. Half a dozen fantastic notions passed through my
+mind, but they were really too melodramatic.</p>
+
+<p>And now when the sun had set I returned. Notwithstanding his suspicions,
+I induced the keeper to give me his key; he could not understand what I
+desired at such an hour in that solitary place, and asked if I wished to
+sleep there! But I calmed his fears with a <i>peseta</i>&mdash;money goes a long
+way in Spain&mdash;and went in alone. The pigs had been removed and all was
+silent. A few bats flitted to and fro quickly. The light fell away
+greyly, the cold descended on the ruin, and it became very strange and
+mysterious. Presently, the roofless chapels seemed to grow alive with
+weird invisible things, the rank weeds exhaled chill odours; and in the
+lonely silence a mass began. At the ruined altar ghostly priests
+officiated, passing quietly from side to side, with bows and
+genuflections. The bell tinkled as they raised an invisible host. Soon
+it became quite dark, and the moon shone through the great empty windows
+of the façade.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Medinat Az-Zahra</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">In</span> what you divine rather than in what you see lies half the charm of
+Andalusia, in the suggestion of all manner of delicate antique things,
+in the vivid memory of past grandeur. The Moors have gone, but still
+they inhabit the land in spirit and not seldom in a spectral way seem to
+regain their old dominion. Often towards evening, as I rode through the
+desolate country, I thought I saw an half-naked Moor ploughing his
+field, urging the lazy oxen with a long goad. Often the Spaniard on his
+horse vanished, and I saw a Muslim knight riding in pride and glory, his
+velvet cloak bespattered with the gold initial of his lady, and her
+favour fluttering from his lance. Once near Granada, standing on a hill,
+I watched the blood-red sun set tempestuously over the plain; and
+presently in the distance the gnarled olive-trees seemed living beings,
+and I saw contending hosts, two ghostly armies silently battling with
+one another; I saw the flash of scimitars, and the gleam of standards,
+the whiteness of the turbans. They fought with horrible carnage, and the
+land was crimson with their blood. Then the sun fell below the horizon,
+and all again was still and lifeless.</p>
+
+<p>And what can be more fascinating than that magic city of Az-Zahra, the
+wonder of its age, of which now not a stone remains? It was made to
+satisfy the whim of a concubine by a Sultan whose flamboyant passion
+moved him to displace mountains for the sake of his beloved; and the
+memory thereof is lost so completely that even its situation till lately
+was uncertain. Az-Zahra the Fairest said to Abd-er-Rahm&#257;n, her lord:
+'Raise me a city that shall take my name and be mine.' The Khalif built
+at the foot of the mountain which is called the Hill of the Bride; but
+when at last the lady, from the great hall of the palace, gazed at the
+snow-white city contrasting with the dark mountain, she remarked: 'See,
+O Master! how beautiful this girl looks in the arms of yonder
+Ethiopian.' The jealous Khalif immediately commanded the removal of the
+offending hill; and when he was convinced the task was impossible,
+ordered that the oaks and other mountain trees which grew upon it should
+be uprooted, and fig-trees and almonds planted in their stead.</p>
+
+<p>Imagine the <i>Hall of the Khalif</i>, with walls of transparent and
+many-coloured marble, with roof of gold; on each side were eight doors
+fixed upon arches of ivory and ebony, ornamented with precious metals
+and with precious stones; and when the sun penetrated them, the
+reflection of its rays upon the roof and walls was sufficient to deprive
+the beholders of sight! In the centre was a great basin filled with
+quicksilver, and the Sultan, wishing to terrify a courtier, would cause
+the metal to be set in motion, whereupon the apartment would seem
+traversed by flashes of lightning, and all the company would fall
+a-trembling.</p>
+
+<p>The old author tells of running streams and of limpid water, of stately
+buildings for the household guards, and magnificent palaces for the
+reception of high functionaries of state; of the thronging soldiers,
+pages, eunuchs, slaves, of all nations and of all religions, in
+sumptuous habiliments of silk and of brocade; of judges, theologians,
+and poets, walking with becoming gravity in the ample courts.... Alas!
+that poets now should rush through Fleet Street with unseemly haste,
+attired uncouthly in bowler hats and in preposterous tweeds!</p>
+
+<p class="tb">From the celebrated legend of Roderick the Goth to that last scene when
+Boabdil handed the keys of Granada to King Ferdinand, the history of the
+Moorish occupation reads far more like romance than like sober fact. It
+is rich with every kind of passionate incident; it has all the strange
+vicissitudes of oriental history. What career could be more wonderful
+than that of Almanzor, who began life as a professional letter-writer,
+(a calling which you may still see exercised in the public places of
+Madrid or Seville,) and ended it as absolute ruler of an Empire! His
+charm of manner, his skill in flattery, the military genius which he
+developed when occasion called, his generosity and sense of justice, his
+love of literature and art, make him a figure to be contemplated with
+admiration; and when you add his utter lack of scruple, his selfishness,
+his ingratitude, his perfidy, you have a character complex enough to
+satisfy the most exacting.</p>
+
+<p>Those who would read of these things may find an admirable account in
+Mr. Lane-Poole's <i>Moors in Spain</i>; but I cannot renounce the pleasure of
+giving one characteristic detail. After the death of Abd-er-Rahm&#257;n,
+the builder of that magnificent city of Az-Zahra, a paper was found in
+his own handwriting, upon which he had noted those days in his long
+reign which had been free from all sorrow: they numbered fourteen.
+Sovereign lord of a country than which there is on earth none more
+delightful, his life had been of uninterrupted prosperity; success in
+peace and war attended him always; he possessed everything that it was
+possible for man to have. These are the observations of Al Makkary, the
+Arabic historian, when he narrates the incident:</p>
+
+<p><i>O man of understanding! Wonder and observe the small portion of real
+happiness the world affords even in the most enviable position. Praise
+be given to Him, the Lord of eternal glory and everlasting empire! There
+is no God but He the Almighty, the Giver of Empire to whomsoever He
+pleases.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Mosque</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">But</span> Cordova, from which Az-Zahra was about four miles distant, has
+visible delights that can vie with its neighbour's vanished pomp. I know
+nothing that can give a more poignant emotion than the interior of the
+mosque at Cordova; and yet I remember well the splendour of barbaric and
+oriental magnificence which was my first sight of St. Mark's at Venice,
+as I came abruptly from the darkness of an alley into the golden light
+of the Piazza. But to me at least the famous things of Italy, known from
+childhood in picture and in description, afford more than anything a
+joyful sense of recognition, a feeling as it were of home-coming, such
+as may hope to experience the devout Christian on entering upon his
+heritage in the Kingdom of Heaven. The mosque of Cordova is oriental and
+barbaric too; but I had never seen nor imagined anything in the least
+resembling it; there was no disillusionment possible, as too often in
+Italy, for the accounts I had read prepared me not at all for that
+overwhelming impression. It was so weird and strange, I felt myself
+transported suddenly to another world.</p>
+
+<p>They were singing Vespers when I entered, and I heard the shrill voices
+of choristers crying the responses; it did not sound like Christian
+music. The mosque was dimly lit, the air heavy with incense; and I saw
+this forest of pillars, extending every way, as far as the eye could
+reach. It was mysterious and awe-inspiring as those enchanted forests of
+one's childhood in which huge trees grew in serried masses and where in
+cavernous darkness goblins and giants of the fairy-tales, wild beasts
+and monstrous shapes, lay in wait for the terrified traveller who had
+lost his way. I wandered, keeping the Christian chapels out of sight,
+trying to lose myself among the columns; and now and then gained views
+of horseshoe arches interlacing, decorated with Moorish tracery.</p>
+
+<p>At length I came to the <i>Mihrab</i>, which is the Holy of Holies, the most
+exquisite as well as the most sacred part of the mosque. It is
+approached by a vestibule of which the roof is a miracle of grace, with
+mosaics that glow like precious stones, ultramarine, scarlet, emerald,
+and gold. The arch between the chambers is ornamented with four pillars
+of coloured marble, and again with mosaic, the gold letters of an Arabic
+inscription forming on the deep sapphire of the background a decorative
+pattern. The <i>Mihrab</i> itself, which contained the famous Koran of
+Othman, has seven sides of white marble, and the roof is a huge shell
+cut from a single block.</p>
+
+<p>I tried to picture to myself the mosque before the Christians laid their
+desecrating hands upon it. The floor was of coloured tiles, tiles such
+as may still be seen in the Alhambra of Granada and in the Alcazar at
+Seville. The columns are of marble, of porphyry and jasper; tradition
+says they came from Carthage, from pagan temples in France and Christian
+churches in Spain; they are slender and unadorned, they must have
+contrasted astonishingly with the roof of larch wood, all ablaze with
+gold and with vermilion.</p>
+
+<p>There were three hundred chandeliers; and eight thousand lamps&mdash;cast of
+Christian bells&mdash;hung from the roof. The Arab writer tells of gold
+shining from the ceiling like fire, blazing like lightning when it darts
+across the clouds. The pulpit, wherein was kept the Koran, was of ivory
+and of exquisite woods, of ebony and sandal, of plantain, citron and
+aloe, fastened together with gold and silver nails and encrusted with
+priceless gems. It needed six Khalifs and Almanzor, the great Vizier, to
+complete the mosque of which Arab writers, with somewhat prosaic
+enthusiasm, said that 'in all the lands of Islam there was none of equal
+size, none more admirable in its workmanship, in its construction and
+durability.'</p>
+
+<p class="tb">Then the Christians conquered Cordova, and the charming civilisation of
+the Moors was driven out by monks and priests and soldiers. First they
+built only chapels in the outermost aisles; but in a little while, to
+make room for a choir, they destroyed six rows of columns; and at last,
+when Master Martin Luther had rekindled Catholic piety, they set up a
+great church in the very middle of the mosque. The story of this
+vandalism is somewhat quaint, and one detail at least affords a
+suggestion that might prove useful in the present time; for the Town
+Council of Cordova menaced with death all who should assist in the work:
+one imagines that a similar threat from the Lord Mayor of London might
+have a salutary effect upon the restorers of Westminster Abbey or the
+decorators of St. Paul's. How very much more entertaining must have been
+the world when absolutism was the fashion and the preposterous method of
+universal suffrage had never been considered! But the Chapter, as those
+in power always are, was bent upon restoring, and induced Charles V. to
+give the necessary authority. The king, however, had not understood what
+they wished to do, and when later he visited Cordova and saw what had
+happened, he turned to the dignitaries who were pointing out the
+improvements and said: 'You have built what you or others might have
+built anywhere, but you have destroyed something that was unique in the
+world.' The words show a fine scorn; but as a warning to later
+generations it would have been more to the purpose to cut off a dozen
+priestly heads.</p>
+
+<p>Yet oddly enough the Christian additions are not so utterly discordant
+as one would expect! Hernan Ruiz did the work well, even though it was
+work he might conveniently have been drawn and quartered for doing.
+Typically Spanish in its fine proportion, in its exuberance of fantastic
+decoration, his church is a masterpiece of plateresque architecture. Nor
+are the priests entirely out of harmony with the building wherein they
+worship. For an hour they had sung Vespers, and the deep voices of the
+canons, chaunting monotonously, rang weird and long among the columns;
+but they finished, and left the choir one by one, walking silently
+across the church to the sacristy. The black cassock and the scarlet
+hood made a fine contrast, while the short cambric surplice added to the
+costume a most delicate grace. One of them paused to speak with two
+ladies in <i>mantillas</i>, and the three made a picturesque group,
+suggesting all manner of old Spanish romance.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Court of Oranges</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">I</span> went into the cathedral from the side and issuing by another door,
+found myself in the Court of Oranges. The setting sun touched it with
+warm light and overhead the sky was wonderfully blue. In Moorish times
+the mosque was separated from the court by no dividing-wall, so that the
+arrangement of pillars within was continued by the even lines of
+orange-trees; these are of great age and size, laden with fruit, and in
+their copious foliage stand with a trim self-assurance that is quite
+imposing.</p>
+
+<p>In the centre, round a fountain into which poured water from jets at the
+four corners, stood a number of persons with jars of earthenware and
+bright copper cans. One girl held herself with the fine erectness of a
+Caryatid, while her jar, propped against the side, filled itself with
+the cold, sparkling water. A youth, some vessel in his hand, leaned over
+in an attitude of easy grace; and looking into her eyes, appeared to pay
+compliments, which she heard with superb indifference. A little boy ran
+up, and the girl held aside her jar while he put his mouth to the spout
+and drank. Then, as it overflowed, she lifted it with comely motion to
+her head and slowly walked away.</p>
+
+<p>By now the canons had unrobed, and several strolled about the court in
+the sun, smoking cigarettes. The acolytes with the removal of their
+scarlet cassocks, were become somewhat ragged urchins playing pitch and
+toss with much gesture and vociferation. Two of them quarrelled fiercely
+because one player would not yield the halfpenny he had certainly lost,
+and the altercation must have ended in blows if a corpulent, elderly
+cleric had not indignantly reproved them, and boxed their ears. A row of
+tattered beggars, very well contented in the sunshine, were seated on a
+step, likewise smoking cigarettes, and obviously they did not consider
+their walk of life unduly hard.</p>
+
+<p>And the thought impressed itself upon me while I lingered in that
+peaceful spot, that there was far more to be said for the simple
+pleasures of sense than northern folk would have us believe. The English
+have still much of that ancient puritanism which finds a vague
+sinfulness in the uncostly delights of sunshine, and colour, and ease of
+mind. It is well occasionally to leave the eager turmoil of great cities
+for such a place as this, where one may learn that there are other, more
+natural ways of living, that it is possible still to spend long days,
+undisturbed by restless passion, without regret or longing, content in
+the various show that nature offers, asking only that the sun should
+shine and the happy seasons run their course.</p>
+
+<p>An English engineer whom I had seen at the hotel, approaching me,
+expressed the idea in his own graphic manner. 'Down here there are a
+good sight more beer and skittles in life than up in Sheffield!'</p>
+
+<p>One canon especially interested me, a little thin man, bent and
+wrinkled, apparently of fabulous age, but still something of a dandy,
+for he wore his clothes with a certain air, as though half a century
+before, byronically, he had been quite a devil with the ladies. The
+silver buckle on his shoes was most elegant, and he protruded his foot
+as though the violet silk of his stocking gave him a discreet pleasure.
+To the very backbone he was an optimist, finding existence evidently so
+delightful that it did not even need rose-coloured spectacles. He was an
+amiable old man, perhaps a little narrow, but very indulgent to the
+follies of others. He had committed no sin himself&mdash;for many years: a
+suspicion of personal vanity is in itself proof of a pure and gentle
+mind; and as for the sins of others&mdash;they were probably not heinous, and
+at all events would gain forgiveness. The important thing, surely, was
+to be sound in dogma. The day wore on and the sun now shone only in a
+narrow space; and this the canon perambulated, smoking the end of a
+cigarette, the delectable frivolity of which contrasted pleasantly with
+his great age. He nodded affably to other priests as they passed, a pair
+of young men, and one obese old creature with white hair and an
+expression of comfortable self-esteem. He removed his hat with a great
+and courteous sweep when a lady of his acquaintance crossed his path.
+The priests basking in the warmth were like four great black cats. It
+was indeed a pleasant spot, and contentment oozed into one by every
+pore. The canon rolled himself another cigarette, smiling as he inhaled
+the first sweet whiffs; and one could not but think the sovereign herb
+must greatly ease the journey along the steep and narrow way which leads
+to Paradise. The smoke rose into the air lazily, and the old cleric
+paused now and again to look at it, the little smile of
+self-satisfaction breaking on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>Up in the North, under the cold grey sky, God Almighty may be a hard
+taskmaster, and the Kingdom of Heaven is attained only by much
+endeavour; but in Cordova these things come more easily. The aged priest
+walks in the sun and smokes his <i>cigarillo</i>. Heaven is not such an
+inaccessible place after all. Evidently he feels that he has done his
+duty&mdash;with the help of Havana tobacco&mdash;in that state of life wherein it
+has pleased a merciful providence to place him; and St. Peter would
+never be so churlish as to close the golden gates in the face of an
+ancient canon who sauntered to them jauntily, with the fag end of a
+cigarette in the corner of his mouth. Let us cultivate our cabbages in
+the best of all possible worlds; and afterwards&mdash;<i>Dieu pardonnera; c'est
+son métier</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">Three months later in the <i>Porvenir</i>, under the heading, 'Suicide of a
+Priest,' I read that one of these very canons of the Cathedral at
+Cordova had shot himself. A report was heard, said the journal, and the
+Civil Guard arriving, found the man prostrate with blood pouring from
+his ear, a revolver by his side. He was transported to the hospital, the
+sacrament administered, and he died. In his pockets they found a
+letter, a pawn-ticket, a woman's bracelet, and some peppermint lozenges.
+He was thirty-five years old. The newspaper moralised as follows: 'When
+even the illustrious order to which the defunct belonged is tainted with
+such a crime, it is well to ask whither tends the incredulity of society
+which finds an end to its sufferings in the barrel of a revolver. Let
+moralists and philosophers combat with all their might this dreadful
+tendency; let them make even the despairing comprehend that death is not
+the highest good but the passage to an unknown world where, according to
+Christian belief, the ill deeds of this existence are punished and the
+virtuous rewarded.'</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Cordova</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">Ronda</span>, owing its peculiarities to the surrounding mountains, was not
+really very characteristic of the country, and might equally well have
+been an highland townlet in any part of Southern Europe. But Cordova
+offers immediately the full sensation of Andalusia. It is absolutely a
+Moorish city, white and taciturn, so that you are astonished to meet
+people in European dress rather than Arabs, in shuffling yellow
+slippers. The streets are curiously silent; for the carriage, as in
+Tangiers, is done by mules and donkeys, which walk so quietly that you
+never hear them. Sometimes you are warned by a deep-voiced '<i>Cuidado</i>,'
+but more often a pannier brushing you against the wall brings the first
+knowledge of their presence. On looking up you are again surprised to
+see not a great shining negro in a burnouse, but a Spaniard in tight
+trousers, with a broad-brimmed hat.</p>
+
+<p>And Cordova has that sweet, exhilarating perfume of Andalusia than which
+nothing gives more vividly the complete feeling of the country. Those
+travellers must be obtuse of nostril who do not recognise different
+smells, grateful or offensive, in different places; no other peculiarity
+is more distinctive, so that an odour crossing by chance one's sense is
+able to recall suddenly all the complicated impressions of a strange
+land. When I return from England it is always that subtle fragrance
+which first strikes me, a mingling in warm sunlight of orange-blossom,
+incense, and cigarette smoke; and two whiffs of a certain brand of
+tobacco are sufficient to bring back to me Seville, the most enchanting
+of all my memories. I suppose that nowhere else are cigarettes consumed
+so incessantly; for in Andalusia it is not only certain classes who use
+them, but every one, without distinction of age or station&mdash;from the
+ragamuffin selling lottery-tickets in the street to the portly, solemn
+priest, to the burly countryman, the shop-keeper, the soldier. After
+all, no better means of killing time have ever been devised, and
+consequently to smoke them affords an occupation which most thoroughly
+suits the Spaniard.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">I looked at Cordova from the bell-tower of the cathedral. The roofs,
+very lovely in their diversity of colour, were of rounded tiles, fading
+with every variety of delicate shade from russet and brown to yellow and
+the tenderest green. From the courtyards, here and there, rose a tall
+palm, or an orange-tree, like a dash of jade against the brilliant sun.
+The houses, plainly whitewashed, have from the outside so mean a look
+that it is surprising to find them handsome and spacious within. They
+are built, Moorish fashion, round a <i>patio</i>, which in Cordova at least
+is always gay with flowers. When you pass the iron gates and note the
+contrast between the snowy gleaming of the street and that southern
+greenery, the suggestion is inevitable of charming people who must rest
+there in the burning heat of summer. With those surroundings and in such
+a country passion grows surely like a poisonous plant. At night, in the
+starry darkness, how irresistible must be the flashing eyes of love, how
+eloquent the pleading of whispered sighs! But woe to the maid who admits
+the ardent lover among the orange-trees, her head reeling with the sweet
+intoxication of the blossom; for the Spanish gallant is fickle, quick to
+forget the vows he spoke so earnestly: he soon grows tired of kissing,
+and mounting his horse, rides fast away.</p>
+
+<p>The uniformity of lime-washed houses makes Cordova the most difficult
+place in the world wherein to find your way. The streets are exactly
+alike, so narrow that a carriage could hardly pass, paved with rough
+cobbles, and tortuous: their intricacy is amazing, labyrinthine; they
+wind in and out of one another, leading nowhither; they meander on for
+half a mile and stop suddenly, or turn back, so that you are forced to
+go in the direction you came. You may wander for hours, trying to find
+some point that from the steeple appeared quite close. Sometimes you
+think they are interminable.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Bridge of Calahorra</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">The</span> bridge that the Moors built over the Guadalquivir straggles across
+the water with easy arches. Somewhat dilapidated and very beautiful, it
+has not the strenuous look of such things in England, and the mere sight
+of it fills you with comfort. The clustered houses, with an added
+softness from the light burning mellow on their roofs and on their white
+walls, increase the happy impression that the world is not necessarily
+hurried and toilful. And the town, separated from the river by no formal
+embankment, lounges at the water's edge like a giant, prone on the grass
+and lazy, stretching his limbs after the mid-day sleep.</p>
+
+<p>There is no precipitation in such a place as Cordova; life is quite long
+enough for all that it is really needful to do; to him who waits come
+all things, and a little waiting more or less can be of no great
+consequence. Let everything be taken very leisurely, for there is ample
+time. Yet in other parts of Andalusia they say the Cordovese are the
+greatest liars and the biggest thieves in Spain, which points to
+considerable industry. The traveller, hearing this, will doubtless ask
+what business has the pot to call the kettle black; and it is true that
+the standard of veracity throughout the country is by no means high.
+But this can scarcely be termed a vice, for the Andalusians see in it
+nothing discreditable, and it can be proved as exactly as a proposition
+of Euclid that vice and virtue are solely matters of opinion. In
+Southern Spain bosom friends lie to one another with complete freedom;
+no man would take his wife's word, but would believe only what he
+thought true, and think no worse of her when he caught her fibbing.
+Mendacity is a thing so perfectly understood that no one is abashed by
+detection. In England most men equivocate and nearly all women, but they
+are ashamed to be discovered; they blush and stammer and hesitate, or
+fly into a passion; the wiser Spaniard laughs, shrugging his shoulders,
+and utters a dozen rapid falsehoods to make up for the first. It is
+always said that a good liar needs an excellent memory, but he wants
+more qualities than that&mdash;unblushing countenance, the readiest wit, a
+manner to beget confidence. In fact it is so difficult to lie
+systematically and well that the ardour of the Andalusians in that
+pursuit can be ascribed only to an innate characteristic. Their
+imaginations, indeed, are so exuberant that the bald fact is to them
+grotesque and painful. They are like writers in love with words for
+their own sake, who cannot make the plainest statement without a gay
+parade of epithet and metaphor. They embroider and decorate, they colour
+and enhance the trivial details of circumstance. They must see
+themselves perpetually in an attitude; they must never fail to be
+effective. They lie for art's sake, without reason or rhyme, from mere
+devilry, often when it can only harm them. Mendacity then becomes an
+intellectual exercise, such as the poet's sonneteering to an imaginary
+lady-love.</p>
+
+<p>But the Cordovan very naturally holds himself in no such unflattering
+estimation. The motto of his town avers that he is a warlike person and
+a wise one:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Cordoba, casa de guerrera gente</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Y de sabiduria clara fuente!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>And the history thereof, with its University and its Khalifs, bears him
+out. Art and science flourished there when the rest of Europe was
+enveloped in mediæval darkness: when our Saxon ancestors lived in dirty
+hovels, barbaric brutes who knew only how to kill, to eat, and to
+propagate their species, the Moors of Cordova cultivated all the
+elegancies of life from verse-making to cleanliness.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">I was standing on the bridge. The river flowed tortuously through the
+fertile plain, broad and shallow, and in it the blue sky and the white
+houses of the city were brightly mirrored. In the distance, like a
+vapour of amethyst, rose the mountains; while at my feet, in mid-stream,
+there were two mills which might have been untouched since Moorish days.
+There had been no rain for months, the water stood very low, and here
+and there were little islands of dry yellow sand, on which grew reeds
+and sedge. In such a spot might easily have wandered the half-naked
+fisherman of the oriental tale, bewailing in melodious verse the
+hardness of his lot; since to his net came no fish, seeking a broken pot
+or a piece of iron wherewith to buy himself a dinner. There might he
+find a ring half-buried in the sand, which, when he rubbed to see if it
+were silver, a smoke would surely rise from the water, increasing till
+the light of day was obscured; and half dead with fear, he would
+perceive at last a gigantic body towering above him, and a voice more
+terrible than the thunder of Allah, crying: 'What wishest thou from thy
+slave, O king? Know that I am of the Jin, and Suleyman, whose name be
+exalted, enslaved me to the ring that thou hast found.'</p>
+
+<p>In Cordova recollections of the <i>Arabian Nights</i> haunt you till the
+commonest sights assume a fantastic character, and the frankly
+impossible becomes mere matter of fact. You wonder whether your life is
+real or whether you have somehow reverted to the days when Scheherazade,
+with her singular air of veracity, recited such enthralling stories to
+her lord as to save her own life and that of many other maidens. I
+looked along the river and saw three slender trees bending over it,
+reflecting in the placid water their leafless branches, and under them
+knelt three women washing clothes. Were they three beautiful princesses
+whose fathers had been killed, and they expelled from their kingdom and
+thus reduced to menial occupations? Who knows? Indeed, I thought it very
+probable, for so many royal persons have come down in the world of late;
+but I did not approach them, since king's daughters under these
+circumstances have often lost one eye, and their morals are nearly
+always of the worst description.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Puerta del Puente</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">I</span> went back to the old gate which led to the bridge. Close by, in the
+little place, was the hut of the <i>consumo</i>, the local custom-house, with
+officials lounging at the door or sitting straddle-legged on chairs,
+lazily smoking. Opposite was a tobacconist's, with the gaudy red and
+yellow sign, <i>Campañia arrendataria de tabacos</i>, and a dram-shop where
+three hardy Spaniards from the mountains stood drinking <i>aguardiente</i>.
+Than this, by the way, there is in the world no more insidious liquor,
+for at first you think its taste of aniseed and peppermint very
+disagreeable; but perseverance, here as in other human affairs, has its
+reward, and presently you develop for it a liking which time increases
+to enthusiasm. In Spain, the land of custom and usage, everything is
+done in a certain way; and there is a proper manner to drink
+<i>aguardiente</i>. To sip it would show a lamentable want of decorum. A
+Spaniard lifts the little glass to his lips, and with a comic, abrupt
+motion tosses the contents into his mouth, immediately afterwards
+drinking water, a tumbler of which is always given with the spirit. It
+is really the most epicurean of intoxicants because the charm lies in
+the after-taste. The water is so cool and refreshing after the
+fieriness; it gives, without the gasconnade, the emotion Keats
+experienced when he peppered his mouth with cayenne for the greater
+enjoyment of iced claret.</p>
+
+<p>But the men wiped their mouths with their hands and came out of the wine
+shop, mounting their horses which stood outside&mdash;shaggy, long-haired
+beasts with high saddles and great box-stirrups. They rode slowly
+through the gate one after the other, in the easy slouching way of men
+who have been used to the saddle all their lives and in the course of
+the week are accustomed to go a good many miles in an easy jog-trot to
+and from the town. It seems to me that the Spaniards resolve themselves
+into types more distinctly than is usual in northern countries, while
+between individuals there is less difference. These three, clean-shaven
+and uniformly dressed, of middle size, stout, with heavy strong features
+and small eyes, certainly resembled one another very strikingly. They
+were the typical inn-keepers of Goya's pictures but obviously could not
+all keep inns; doubtless they were farmers, horse-dealers, or
+forage-merchants, shrewd men of business, with keen eyes for the main
+chance. That class is the most trustworthy in Spain, kind, hospitable,
+and honest; they are old-fashioned people with many antique customs, and
+preserve much of the courteous dignity which made their fathers famous.</p>
+
+<p>A string of grey donkeys came along the bridge, their panniers
+earth-laden, poor miserable things that plodded slowly and painfully,
+with heads bent down, placing one foot before the other with the
+donkey's peculiar motion, patiently doing a thing they had patiently
+done ever since they could bear a load. They seemed to have a dull
+feeling that it was no use to make a fuss, or to complain; it would just
+go on till they dropped down dead and their carcases were sold for
+leather and glue. There was a Spanish note in the red trappings, braided
+and betasselled, but all worn, discoloured and stained.</p>
+
+<p>Inside the gate they stopped, waiting in a huddled group, with the same
+heavy patience, for the examination of the <i>consumo</i>. An officer of the
+custom-house went round with a long steel prong, which he ran into the
+baskets one by one, to see that there was nothing dutiable hidden in the
+earth. Then, sparing of his words, he made a sign to the driver and sat
+down again straddle-wise on his chair. '<i>Arre, burra!</i>' The first donkey
+walked slowly on, and as they heard the tinkling of the leader's bell
+the rest stepped forward in the long line, their heads hanging down,
+with that hopeless movement of the feet.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">In the night, wandering at random through the streets, their silent
+whiteness filled me again with that intoxicating sensation of the
+<i>Arabian Nights</i>. I looked through the iron gateways as I passed, into
+the <i>patios</i> with their dark foliage, and once I heard the melancholy
+twang of a guitar. I was sure that in one of those houses the three
+princesses had thrown off their disguise and sat radiant in queenly
+beauty, their raven tresses falling in a hundred plaits over their
+shoulders, their fingers stained with henna and their long eyelashes
+darkened with kohl. But alas! though I lost my way I found them not.</p>
+
+<p>Yet many an amorous Spaniard, too passionate to be admitted within his
+mistress' house, stood at her window. This method of philandering,
+surely most conducive to the ideal, is variously known as <i>comer
+hierro</i>, to eat iron, and <i>pelar la pava</i>, to pluck the turkey. One
+imagines that the cold air of a winter's night must render the most
+ardent lover platonic. It is a significant fact that in Spanish novels
+if the hero is left for two minutes alone with the heroine there are
+invariably asterisks and some hundred pages later a baby. So it is
+doubtless wise to separate true love by iron bars, and perchance
+beauty's eyes flash more darkly to the gallant standing without the
+gate; illusions, the magic flower of passion, arise more willingly. But
+in Spain the blood of youth is very hot, love laughs at most restraints
+and notwithstanding these precautions, often enough there is a
+catastrophe. The Spaniard, who will seduce any girl he can, is pitiless
+under like circumstances to his own womenkind; so there is much weeping,
+the girl is turned out of doors and falls readily into the hands of the
+procuress. In the brothels of Seville or of Madrid she finds at least a
+roof and bread to eat; and the fickle swain goes his way rejoicing.</p>
+
+<p>I found myself at last near the <i>Puerta del Puente</i>, and I stood again
+on the Moorish bridge. The town was still and mysterious in the night,
+and the moon shone down on the water with a hard and brilliant coldness.
+The three trees with their bare branches looked yet more slender, naked
+and alone, like pre-Raphaelite trees in a landscape of <i>Pélléas et
+Mélisande</i>; the broad river, almost stagnant, was extraordinarily calm
+and silent. I wondered what strange things the placid Guadalquivir had
+seen through the centuries; on its bosom many a body had been borne
+towards the sea. It recalled those mysterious waters of the Eastern
+tales which brought to the marble steps of palaces great chests in which
+lay a fair youth's headless corpse or a sleeping beautiful maid.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Seville</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">The</span> impression left by strange towns and cities is often a matter of
+circumstance, depending upon events in the immediate past; or on the
+chance which, during his earliest visit, there befell the traveller.
+After a stormy passage across the Channel, Newhaven, from the mere fact
+of its situation on solid earth, may gain a fascination which closer
+acquaintance can never entirely destroy; and even Birmingham, first seen
+by a lurid sunset, may so affect the imagination as to appear for ever
+like some infernal, splendid city, restless with the hurried toil of
+gnomes and goblins. So to myself Seville means ten times more than it
+can mean to others. I came to it after weary years in London, heartsick
+with much hoping, my mind dull with drudgery; and it seemed a land of
+freedom. There I became at last conscious of my youth, and it seemed a
+belvedere upon a new life. How can I forget the delight of wandering in
+the Sierpes, released at length from all imprisoning ties, watching the
+various movement as though it were a stage-play, yet half afraid that
+the falling curtain would bring back reality! The songs, the dances, the
+happy idleness of orange-gardens, the gay turbulence of Seville by
+night; ah! there at least I seized life eagerly, with both hands,
+forgetting everything but that time was short and existence full of joy.
+I sat in the warm sunshine, inhaling the pleasant odours, reminding
+myself that I had no duty to do then, or the morrow, or the day after. I
+lay a-bed thinking how happy, effortless and free would be my day.
+Mounting my horse, I clattered through the narrow streets, over the
+cobbles, till I came to the country; the air was fresh and sweet, and
+Aguador loved the spring mornings. When he put his feet to the springy
+turf he gave a little shake of pleasure, and without a sign from me
+broke into a gallop. To the amazement of shepherds guarding their wild
+flocks, to the confusion of herds of brown pigs, scampering hastily as
+we approached, he and I excited by the wind singing in our ears, we
+pelted madly through the country. And the whole land laughed with the
+joy of living.</p>
+
+<p>But I love also the recollection of Seville in the grey days of
+December, when the falling rain offered a grateful contrast to the
+unvarying sunshine. Then new sights delighted the eye, new perfumes the
+nostril. In the decay of that long southern autumn a more sombre
+opulence was added to the gay colours; a different spirit filled the
+air, so that I realised suddenly that old romantic Spain of Ferdinand
+and Isabella. It lay a-dying still, gorgeous in corruption, sober yet
+flamboyant, rich and poverty-stricken, squalid, magnificent. The white
+streets, the dripping trees, the clouds gravid with rain, gave to all
+things an adorable melancholy, a sad, poetic charm. Looking back, I
+cannot dismiss the suspicion that my passionate emotions were somewhat
+ridiculous, but at twenty-three one can afford to lack a sense of
+humour.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">But Seville at first is full of disillusion. It has offered abundant
+material to the idealist who, as might be expected, has drawn of it a
+picture which is at once common and pretentious. Your idealist can see
+no beauty in sober fact, but must array it in all the theatrical
+properties of a vulgar imagination; he must give to things more imposing
+proportions, he colours gaudily; Nature for him is ever posturing in the
+full glare of footlights. Really he stands on no higher level than the
+housemaid who sees in every woman a duchess in black velvet, an Aubrey
+Plantagenet in plain John Smith. So I, in common with many another
+traveller, expected to find in the Guadalquivir a river of transparent
+green, with orange-groves along its banks, where wandered ox-eyed youths
+and maidens beautiful. Palm-trees, I thought, rose towards heaven, like
+passionate souls longing for release from earthly bondage; Spanish
+women, full-breasted and sinuous, danced <i>boleros</i>, <i>fandangos</i>, while
+the air rang with the joyous sound of castanets, and toreadors in
+picturesque habiliments twanged the light guitar.</p>
+
+<p>Alas! the Guadalquivir is like yellow mud, and moored to the busy quays
+lie cargo-boats lading fruit or grain or mineral; there no perfume
+scents the heavy air. The nights, indeed, are calm and clear, and the
+stars shine brightly; but the river banks see no amours more romantic
+than those of stokers from Liverpool or Glasgow, and their lady-loves
+have neither youth nor beauty.</p>
+
+<p>Yet Seville has many a real charm to counter-balance these lost
+illusions. He that really knows it, like an ardent lover with his
+mistress' imperfections, would have no difference; even the
+Guadalquivir, so matter-of-fact, really so prosaic, has an unimagined
+attractiveness; the crowded shipping, the hurrying porters, add to that
+sensation of vivacity which is of Seville the most fascinating
+characteristic. And Seville is an epitome of Andalusia, with its life
+and death, with its colour and vivid contrasts, with its boyish gaiety.</p>
+
+<p>It is a city of delightful ease, of freedom and sunshine, of torrid
+heat. There it does not matter what you do, nor when, nor how you do it.
+There is none to hinder you, none to watch. Each takes his ease, and is
+content that his neighbour should do the like. Doubtless people are lazy
+in Seville, but good heavens! why should one be so terribly strenuous?
+Go into the Plaza Nueva, and you will see it filled with men of all
+ages, of all classes, 'taking the sun'; they promenade slowly,
+untroubled by any mental activity, or sit on benches between the
+palm-trees, smoking cigarettes; perhaps the more energetic read the
+bull-fighting news in the paper. They are not ambitious, and they do not
+greatly care to make their fortunes; so long as they have enough to eat
+and drink&mdash;food is very cheap&mdash;and cigarettes to smoke, they are quite
+happy. The Corporation provides seats, and the sun shines down for
+nothing&mdash;so let them sit in it and warm themselves. I daresay it is as
+good a way of getting through life as most others.</p>
+
+<p>A southern city never reveals its true charm till the summer, and few
+English know what Seville is under the burning sun of July. It was built
+for the great heat, and it is only then that the refreshing coolness of
+the <i>patio</i> can be appreciated. In the streets the white glare is
+mitigated by awnings that stretch from house to house, and the half
+light in the Sierpes, the High Street, has a curious effect; the people
+in their summer garb walk noiselessly, as though the warmth made sound
+impossible. Towards evening the sail-cloths are withdrawn, and a breath
+of cold air sinks down; the population bestirs itself, and along the
+Sierpes the <i>cafés</i> become suddenly crowded and noisy.</p>
+
+<p>Then, for it was too hot to ride earlier, I would mount my horse and
+cross the river. The Guadalquivir had lost its winter russet, and under
+the blue sky gained varied tints of liquid gold, of emerald and of
+sapphire. I lingered in Triana, the gipsy-quarter, watching the people.
+Beautiful girls stood at the windows, so that the whole way was lined
+with them, and their lips were not unwilling to break into charming
+smiles. One especially I remember who was used to sit on a balcony at a
+street-corner; her hair was irreproachable in its elaborate arrangement,
+and the red carnation in it gleamed like fire against the night. Her
+face was long, fairer-complexioned than is common, with regular and
+delicate features. She sat at her balcony, with a huge book open on her
+knee, which she read with studied disregard of the passers-by; but when
+I looked back sometimes I saw that she had lifted her eyes, lustrous and
+dark, and they met mine gravely.</p>
+
+<p>And in the country I passed through long fields of golden corn, which
+reached as far as I could see; I remembered the spring, when it had all
+been new, soft, fresh, green. And presently I turned round to look at
+Seville in the distance, bathed in brilliant light, glowing as though
+its walls were built of yellow flame. The Giralda arose in its wonderful
+grace like an arrow; so slim, so comely, it reminded one of an Arab
+youth, with long, thin limbs. With the setting sun, gradually the city
+turned rosy-red and seemed to lose all substantiality, till it became a
+many-shaped mist that was dissolved in the tenderness of the sky.</p>
+
+<p>Late in the night I stood at my window looking at the cloudless heaven.
+From the earth ascended, like incense, the mellow odours of summer-time;
+the belfry of the neighbouring church stood boldly outlined against the
+darkness, and the storks that had built their nest upon it were
+motionless, not stirring even as the bells rang out the hours. The city
+slept, and it seemed that I alone watched in the silence; the sky still
+was blue, and the stars shone in their countless millions. I thought of
+the city that never rested, of London with its unceasing roar, the
+endless streets, the greyness. And all around me was a quiet serenity, a
+tranquillity such as the Christian may hope shall reward him in Paradise
+for the troublous pilgrimage of life. But that is long ago and passed
+for ever.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Alcazar</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">Arriving</span> at Seville the recollection of Cordova took me quickly to the
+Alcazar; but I was a little disappointed. It has been ill and tawdrily
+restored, with crude pigments, with gold that is too bright and too
+clean; but even before that, Charles V. and his successors had made
+additions out of harmony with Moorish feeling. Of the palace where lived
+the Mussulman Kings nothing, indeed, remains; but Pedro the Cruel, with
+whom the edifice now standing is more especially connected, was no less
+oriental than his predecessors, and he employed Morisco architects to
+rebuild it. Parts are said to be exact reproductions of the older
+structure, while many of the beautiful tiles were taken from Moorish
+houses.</p>
+
+<p>The atmosphere, then, is but half Arabic; the rest belongs to that
+flaunting, multi-coloured barbarism which is characteristic of Northern
+Spain before the union of Arragon and Castile. Wandering in the deserted
+courts, looking through horseshoe windows of exquisite design at the
+wild garden, Pedro the Cruel and Maria de Padilla are the figures that
+occupy the mind.</p>
+
+<p>Seville teems with anecdotes of the monarch who, according to the point
+of view, has been called the Cruel and the Just. He was an amorist for
+whom platonic dalliance had no charm, and there are gruesome tales of
+ladies burned alive because they would not quench the flame of his
+desires, of others, fiercely virtuous, who poured boiling oil on face
+and bosom to make themselves unattractive in his sight. But the head
+that wears a crown apparently has fascinations which few women can
+resist, and legend tells more frequently of Pedro's conquests than of
+his rebuffs. He was an ardent lover to whom marriage vows were of no
+importance; that he committed bigamy is certain&mdash;and pardonable, but
+some historians are inclined to think that he had at one and the same
+time no less than three wives. He was oriental in his tastes.</p>
+
+<p>In imitation of the Paynim sovereigns Pedro loved to wander in the
+streets of Seville at night, alone and disguised, to seek adventure or
+to see for himself the humour of his subjects; and like them also it
+pleased him to administer justice seated in the porch of his palace. If
+he was often hard and proud towards the nobles, with the people he was
+always very gracious; to them he was the redressor of wrongs and a
+protector of the oppressed; his justice was that of the Mussulman
+rulers, rapid, terrible and passionate, often quaint. For instance: a
+rich priest had done some injury to a cobbler, who brought him before
+the ecclesiastical tribunals, where he was for a year suspended from his
+clerical functions. The tradesman thought the punishment inadequate, and
+taking the law into his own hands gave the priest a drubbing. He was
+promptly seized, tried, condemned to death. But he appealed to the king
+who, with a witty parody of the rival Court, changed the punishment to
+suspension from his trade, and ordered the cobbler for twelve months to
+make no boots.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, the Alcazar itself has been the scene of Pedro's
+vilest crimes, in the whole list of which is none more insolent, none
+more treacherous, than that whereby he secured the priceless ruby which
+graces still the royal crown of England. There is a school of historians
+which insists on finding a Baptist Minister in every hero&mdash;think what a
+poor-blooded creature they wish to make of the glorious Nelson&mdash;but no
+casuistry avails to cleanse the memory of Pedro of Castille: even for
+his own ruthless age he was a monster of cruelty and lust. Indeed the
+indignation with which his biographers have felt bound to charge their
+pens has somewhat obscured their judgment; they have so eagerly insisted
+on the censure with which themselves regard their hero's villainies,
+that they have found little opportunity to explain a complex character.
+Yet the story of his early life affords a simple key to his maturity.
+Till the age of fifteen he lived in prisons, suffering with his mother
+every insult and humiliation, while his father's mistress kept queenly
+state, and her children received the honours of royal princes. When he
+came to the throne he found himself a catspaw between his natural
+brothers and ambitious nobles. His nearest relatives were ever his
+bitterest enemies, and he was continually betrayed by those he trusted;
+even his mother delivered to the rebellious peers the strongholds and
+the treasures he had left in her charge and caused him to be taken
+prisoner. As a boy he had been violent and impetuous, yet always loyal:
+but before he was twenty he became suspicious and mistrustful; in his
+weakness he made craft and perfidy his weapons, practising to compose
+his face, to feign forgetfulness of injury till the moment of vengeance;
+he learned to dissemble so that none could tell his mind, and treated no
+courtiers with greater favour than those upon whose death he had already
+determined.</p>
+
+<p>Intermingled with this career of vice and perfidy and bloodshed is the
+love of Maria de Padilla, whom the king met when he was eighteen, and
+till her death loved passionately&mdash;with brief inconstancies, for
+fidelity has never been a royal virtue; and she figures with gentle
+pathos in that grim history like wild perfumed flowers on a storm-beaten
+coast. After the assassination of the unfortunate Blanche, the French
+Queen whom he loathed with an extraordinary physical repulsion, Pedro
+acknowledged a secret marriage with Maria de Padilla, which legitimised
+her children; but for ten years before she had been treated with royal
+rights. The historian says that she was very beautiful, but her especial
+charm seems to have been that voluptuous grace which is characteristic
+of Andalusian women. She was simple and pious, with a nature of great
+sweetness, and she never abused her power; her influence, as runs the
+hackneyed phrase, was always for good, and untiringly she did her
+utmost to incline her despot lover to mercy. She alone sheds a ray of
+light on Pedro's memory, only her love can save him from the execration
+of posterity. When she died rich and poor alike mourned her, and the
+king was inconsolable. He honoured her with pompous obsequies, and
+throughout the kingdom ordered masses to be sung for the rest of her
+soul.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">The guardians of the Alcazar show you the chambers in which dwelt this
+gracious lady, and the garden-fountain wherein she bathed in summer.
+Moralists, anxious to prove that the way of righteousness is hard, say
+that beauty dies, but they err, for beauty is immortal. The habitations
+of a lovely woman never lose the enchantment she has cast over them, her
+comeliness lingers in their empty chambers like a subtle odour; and
+centuries after her very bones have crumbled to dust it is her presence
+alone that is felt, her footfall that is heard on the marble floors.</p>
+
+<p>Garish colours, alas! have driven the tender spirit of Maria de Padilla
+from the royal palace, but it has betaken itself to the old garden, and
+there wanders sadly. It is a charming place of rare plants and exotic
+odours; cypress and tall palm trees rise towards the blue sky with their
+irresistible melancholy, their far-away suggestion of burning deserts;
+and at their feet the ground is carpeted with violets. Yet to me the
+wild roses brought strangely recollections of England, of long summer
+days when the air was sweet and balmy; the birds sang heavenly songs,
+the same songs as they sing in June in the fat Kentish fields. The
+gorgeous palace had only suggested the long past days of history, and
+Seville the joy of life and the love of sunshine; but the old quiet
+garden took me far away from Spain, so that I longed to be again in
+England. In thought I wandered through a garden that I knew in years
+gone by, filled also with flowers, but with hollyhocks and jasmine; the
+breeze carried the sweet scent of the honeysuckle to my nostrils, and I
+looked at the green lawns, with the broad, straight lines of the
+grass-mower. The low of cattle reached my ears, and wandering to the
+fence I looked into the fields beyond; yellow cows grazed idly or lay
+still chewing the cud; they stared at me with listless, sleepy eyes.</p>
+
+<p>But I glanced up and saw a flock of wild geese flying northwards in long
+lines that met, making two sides of a huge triangle; they flew quickly
+in the cloudless sky, far above me, and presently were lost to view.
+About me was the tall box-wood of the southern garden, and tropical
+plants with rich flowers of yellow and red and purple. A dark fir-tree
+stood out, ragged and uneven, like a spirit of the North, erect as a
+life without reproach; but the foliage of the palms hung down with a
+sad, adorable grace.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Calle de las Sierpes</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">In</span> Seville the Andalusian character thrives in its finest flower; and
+nowhere can it be more conveniently studied than in the narrow, sinuous,
+crowded thoroughfare which is the oddest street in Europe. The Calle de
+las Sierpes is merely a pavement, hardly broader than that of
+Piccadilly, without a carriage-way. The houses on either side are very
+irregular; some are tall, four-storeyed, others quite tiny; some are
+well kept and freshly painted, others dilapidated. It is one of the
+curiosities of Seville that there is no particularly fashionable
+quarter; and, as though some moralising ruler had wished to place before
+his people a continual reminder of the uncertainty of human greatness,
+by the side of a magnificent palace you will find a hovel.</p>
+
+<p>At no hour of the day does the Calle de las Sierpes lack animation, but
+to see it at its best you must go towards evening, at seven o'clock, for
+then there is scarcely room to move. Fine gentlemen stand at the club
+doors or sit within, looking out of the huge windows; the merchants and
+the students, smoking cigarettes, saunter, wrapped magnificently in
+their capos. Cigarette-girls pass with roving eyes; they suffer from no
+false modesty and smile with pleasure when a compliment reaches their
+ears. Admirers do not speak in too low a tone and the fair Sevillan is
+never hard of hearing.</p>
+
+<p>Newspaper boys with shrill cries announce evening editions: '<i>Porvenir!</i>
+<i>Noticiero!</i>' Vendors of lottery-tickets wander up and down, audaciously
+offering the first prize: '<i>Quien quiere el premio gardo?</i>' Beggars
+follow you with piteous tales of fasts improbably extended. But most
+striking is the <i>gente flamenca</i>, the bull-fighter, with his numerous
+hangers-on. The <i>toreros</i>&mdash;toreador is an unknown word, good for comic
+opera and persons who write novels of Spanish life and cannot be
+bothered to go to Spain&mdash;the <i>toreros</i> sit in their especial cafe, the
+<i>Cerveceria National</i>, or stand in little groups talking to one another.
+They are distinguishable by the <i>coleta</i>, which is a little plait of
+hair used to attach the chignon of full-dress: it is the dearest
+ambition of the aspirant to the bull-ring to possess this ornament; he
+grows it as soon as he is full-fledged, and it is solemnly cut off when
+the weight of years and the responsibility of landed estates induce him
+to retire from the profession. The bull-fighter dresses peculiarly and
+the <i>gente flamenca</i>, imitates him so far as its means allow. A famous
+<i>matador</i> is as well paid as in England a Cabinet Minister or a
+music-hall artiste. This is his costume: a broad-brimmed hat with a low
+crown, which is something like a topper absurdly flattened down, with
+brims preposterously broadened out. The front of his shirt is befrilled
+and embroidered, and his studs are the largest diamonds; not even
+financiers in England wear such important stones. He wears a low collar
+without a necktie, but ties a silk handkerchief round his neck like an
+English navvy; an Eton jacket, fitting very tightly, brown, black, or
+grey, with elaborate frogs and much braiding; the trousers, skin-tight
+above, loosen below, and show off the lower extremities when, like the
+heroes of feminine romance, the wearer has a fine leg. Indeed, it is a
+mode of dress which exhibits the figure to great advantage, and many of
+these young men have admirable forms.</p>
+
+<p>In their strong, picturesque way they are often very handsome. They have
+a careless grace of gesture, a manner of actors perfectly at ease in an
+effective part, a brutal healthiness; there is a flamboyance in their
+bearing, a melodramatic swagger, which is most diverting. And their
+faces, so contrasted are the colours, so strongly marked the features,
+are full of interest. Clean shaven, the beard shows violet through the
+olive skin; they have high cheek bones and thin, almost hollow cheeks,
+with eyes set far back in the sockets, dark and lustrous under heavy
+brows. The black hair, admirably attached to the head, is cut short;
+shaved on the temples and over the ears, brushed forward as in other
+countries is fashionable with gentlemen of the box: it fits the skull
+like a second, tighter skin. The lips are red and sensual, the teeth
+white, regular and well shaped. The bull-fighter is remarkable also for
+the diamond rings which decorate his fingers and the massive gold, the
+ponderous seals, of his watch-chain.</p>
+
+<p>Who can wonder then that maidens fair, their hearts turning to thoughts
+of love, should cast favourable glances upon this hero of a hundred
+fights? The conquests of tenors and grand-dukes and fiddlers are
+insignificant beside those of a bull-fighter; and the certainty of
+feminine smiles is another inducement for youth to exchange the drudgery
+of menial occupations for the varied excitement of the ring.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">At night the Sierpes is different again. Little by little the people
+scatter to their various homes, the shops are closed, the clubs put out
+their lights, and by one the loiterers are few. The contrast is vivid
+between the noisy throng of day-time and this sudden stillness; the
+emptiness of the winding street seems almost unnatural. The houses,
+losing all variety, are intensely black; and above, the sinuous line of
+sky is brilliant with clustering stars. A drunken roysterer reels from a
+tavern-door, his footfall echoing noisily along the pavement, but
+quickly he sways round a corner; and the silence, more impressive for
+the interruption, returns. The night-watchman, huddled in a cloak of
+many folds, is sleeping in a doorway, dimly outlined by the yellow gleam
+of his lantern.</p>
+
+<p>Then I, a lover of late hours, returning, seek the <i>guardia</i>. Sevillan
+houses are locked at midnight by this individual, who keeps the
+latch-keys of a whole street, and is supposed to be on the look-out for
+tardy comers. I clap my hands, such being the Spanish way to attract
+attention, and shout; but he does not appear. He is a good-natured,
+round man, bibulous, with grey hair and a benevolent manner. I know his
+habits and resign myself to inquiring for him in the neighbouring
+dram-shops. I find him at last and assail him with all the abuse at my
+command; he is too tipsy to answer or to care, and follows me, jangling
+his keys. He fumbles with them at the door, blaspheming because they are
+so much alike, and finally lets me in.</p>
+
+<p><i>'Buena noche. Descanse v bien.'</i></p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Characteristics</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">It</span> is a hazardous thing to attempt the analysis of national character,
+for after all, however careful the traveller may be in his inquiries, it
+is from the few individuals himself has known that his most definite
+impressions are drawn. Of course he can control his observations by
+asking the opinion of foreigners long resident in the country; but
+curiously enough in Andalusia precisely the opposite occurs from what
+elsewhere is usual. Aliens in England, France, or Italy, with increasing
+comprehension, acquire also affection and esteem for the people among
+whom they live; but I have seldom found in Southern Spain a
+foreigner&mdash;and there are many, merchants, engineers and the like, with
+intimate knowledge of the inhabitants&mdash;who had a good word to say for
+the Andalusians.</p>
+
+<p>But perhaps it is in the behaviour of crowds that the most accurate
+picture of national character can be obtained. Like composite
+photographs which give the appearance of a dozen people together, but a
+recognisable portrait of none, the multitude offers as it were a
+likeness in the rough, without precision of detail yet with certain
+marked features more obviously indicated. The crowd is an individual
+without responsibility, unoppressed by the usual ties of prudence and
+decorum, who betrays himself because he lacks entirely
+self-consciousness and the desire to pose. In Spain the crowd is above
+all things good-humoured, fond of a joke so long as it is none too
+subtle, excitable of course and prone to rodomontade, yet practical,
+eager to make the best of things and especially to get its money's
+worth. If below the surface there are a somewhat brutal savagery, a
+cruel fickleness, these are traits common with all human beings together
+assembled; they are merely evidence of man's close relationship to ape
+and tiger.</p>
+
+<p>From contemporary novels more or less the same picture appears, and also
+from the newspapers, though in these somewhat idealised; for the Press,
+bound to flatter for its living, represents its patrons, as do some
+portrait-painters, not as they are but as they would like to be. In the
+eyes of Andalusian journalists their compatriots are for ever making a
+magnificent gesture; and the condition would be absurd if a hornet's
+nest of comic papers, tempering vanity with a lively sense of the
+ridiculous, did not save the situation by abundantly coarse caricatures.</p>
+
+<p>It is vanity then which emerges as the most distinct of national traits,
+a vanity so egregious, so childish, so grotesque, that the onlooker is
+astounded. The Andalusians have a passion for gorgeous raiment and for
+jewellery. They must see themselves continually in the brightest light,
+standing for ever on some alpine eminence of vice or virtue, in full
+view of their fellow men. Like schoolboys they will make themselves out
+desperate sinners to arouse your horror, and if that does not impress
+you, accomplished actors ready to suit your every mood, they will pose
+as saints than whom none more truly pious have existed on the earth.
+They are the Gascons of Spain, but beside them the Bordelais is a
+truthful, unimaginative creature.</p>
+
+<p>Next comes laziness. There is in Europe no richer soil than that of
+Andalusia, and the Arabs, with an elaborate system of irrigation,
+obtained three crops a year; but now half the land lies uncultivated,
+and immense tracts are planted only with olives, which, comparatively,
+entail small labour. But the inhabitants of this fruitful country are
+happy in this, that boredom is unknown to them; content to lie in the
+sun for hours, neither talking, thinking, nor reading, they are never
+tired of idleness: two men will sit for half a day in a <i>cafe</i>, with a
+glass of water before them, not exchanging three remarks in an hour. I
+fancy it is this stolidness which has given travellers an impression of
+dignity; in their quieter moments they remind one of very placid sheep,
+for they have not half the energy of pigs, which in Spain at least are
+restless and spirited creatures. But a trifle will rouse them; and then,
+quite unable to restrain themselves, pallid with rage, they hurl abuse
+at their enemy&mdash;Spanish, they say, is richer in invective than any other
+European tongue&mdash;and quickly long knives are whipped out to avenge the
+affront.</p>
+
+<p>Universal opinion has given its verdict in an epithet: and just as many
+people speak of the volatile Frenchman, the stolid Dutchman, the amatory
+Italian, they talk of the proud Spaniard. But it is pride of a peculiar
+sort; a Sevillian with only the smallest claims to respectability would
+rather die than carry a parcel through the street; however poor, some
+one must perform for him so menial an office: and he would consider it
+vastly beneath his dignity to accept charity, though if he had the
+chance would not hesitate to swindle you out of sixpence. But in matters
+of honesty these good people show a certain discrimination. Your
+servants, for example, would hesitate to steal money, especially if
+liable to detection, but not to take wine and sugar and oil: which is
+proved by the freedom with which they discuss the theft among themselves
+and the calmness with which they acknowledge it when a wrathful master
+takes them in the act. The reasoning is, if you're such a fool as not to
+keep your things under lock and key you deserve to be robbed; and if
+dismissed for such a peccadillo they consider themselves very hardly
+used.</p>
+
+<p>Uncharitable persons, saying that a Spaniard will live for a week on
+bread and water duly to prepare himself for a meal at another's expense,
+accuse them of gluttony; but I have always found the Andalusians
+abstemious eaters, nor have I wondered at this, since Spanish food is
+abominable. But drunkards they often are. I should think as many people
+in proportion get drunk in Seville as in London, though it is only fair
+to add that their heads are not strong, and very little alcohol will
+produce in them an indecent exhilaration.</p>
+
+<p>But if the reader, because the Andalusians are slothful, truthless, but
+moderately honest, vain, concludes that they are an unattractive people
+he will grossly err. His reasoning, that moral qualities make pleasant
+companions, is quite false; on the contrary it is rigid principles and
+unbending character, strength of will and a decided sense of right and
+wrong, which make intercourse difficult. A sensitive conscience is no
+addition to the amenities of the dinner-table. But when a man is willing
+to counter a deadly sin with a shrug of the shoulders, when between
+white and black he can discover no insupportable contrast, the
+probabilities are that he will at least humour your whims and respect
+your prejudices. And so it is that the Andalusians make very agreeable
+acquaintance. They are free and amiable in their conversation, and will
+always say the thing that pleases rather than the brutal thing that is.
+They miss no opportunity to make compliments, which they do so well that
+at the moment you are assured these flattering remarks come from the
+bottom of their hearts. Very reasonably, they cannot understand why you
+should be disagreeable to a man merely because you rob him; to injury,
+unless their minds are clouded by passion, they have not the bad taste
+to add insult. Compare with these manners the British abhorrence of
+polite and complimentary speeches, especially if they happen to be true:
+the Englishman may hold you in the highest estimation, but wild horses
+will not drag from him an acknowledgment of the fact; whereby humanism
+and the general stock of self-esteem are notably diminished.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing can be more graceful than their mode of speech, for the very
+construction of the language conduces to courtesy. The Spaniards have
+also an oriental way of offering you things, placing themselves and
+their houses entirely at your disposal. If you remark on anything of
+theirs they beg you at once to take it. If you go into a pot-house where
+a peasant is dining on a plate of ham, a few olives, and a glass of
+wine, he will ask: '<i>Le gusta</i>,' 'Will you have some,' with a little
+motion of handing you his meal. Of course it would be an outrage to
+decorum to accept these generous offers, but that is beside the
+question; for good manners are not an affair of the heart, but a
+complicated game to be learned and played on either side with due
+attention to the rules. It may be argued that such details are not
+serious; but surely for the common round of life politeness is more
+necessary than any heroic qualities. We need our friends' self-sacrifice
+once in a blue moon, but their courtesy every day; and for my own part,
+I would choose the companions of my leisure rather for their good
+breeding than for the excellence of their dispositions.</p>
+
+<p>Beside this, however, the Andalusians are much attached to children, and
+it is pleasant to see the real fondness which exists between various
+members of a family. One singular point I have noted, that although the
+Spanish marry for love rather than from convenience, a wife puts
+kindred before husband, her affection remaining chiefly where it was
+before marriage. But if the moralist desires yet more solid virtues, he
+need only inquire of the first Sevillan he meets, who will give at
+shortest notice, in choice and fluent language, a far more impressive
+list than I could ever produce.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Don Juan Tenorio</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">On</span> its own behalf each country seems to choose one man, historical or
+imaginary, to stand for the race, making as it were an incarnation of
+all the virtues and all the vices wherewith it is pleased to charge
+itself; and nothing really better explains the character of a people
+than their choice of a national hero. Fifty years ago John Bull was the
+typical Englishman. Stout, rubicund and healthy, with a loud voice and a
+somewhat aggressive manner, he belonged distinctly to the middle
+classes. He had a precise idea of his rights and a flattering opinion of
+his merits; he was peaceable, but ready enough to fight for commercial
+advantages, or if roused, for conscience sake. And when this took place
+he possessed always the comforting assurance that the Almighty was on
+his side; he put his faith without hesitation on the Bible and on the
+superiority of the English Nation. For foreigners he had a magnificent
+contempt and distinguished between them and monkeys only by a certain
+mental effort. Art he thought nasty, literature womanish; he was a Tory,
+middle-aged and well-to-do.</p>
+
+<p>But nowadays all that is changed; John Bull, having amassed great
+wealth, has been gathered to his fathers and now disports himself in an
+early Victorian paradise furnished with horse-hair sofas and mahogany
+sideboards. His son reigns in his stead; and though perhaps not
+officially recognised as England's archetype, his appearance in novel
+and in drama, in the illustrated papers, in countless advertisements,
+proves the reality of his sway. It is his image that rests in the heart
+of British maidens, his the example that British youths industriously
+follow.</p>
+
+<p>But John Bull, Junior, has added his mother's maiden name to his own,
+and remembers with pleasure that he belongs to a good old county family.
+He has changed his address from Bedford Square to South Kensington, and
+has been educated at a Public School and at a University. Young, tall
+and fair-haired, there is nothing to suggest that he will ever have that
+inelegant paunch which prevented the father, even in his loftiest
+moments of moral indignation, from being dignified. Of course he is a
+soldier, for the army is still the only profession for a gentleman, and
+England's hero is that above all things. His morals are unexceptional,
+since to the ten commandments of Moses he has added the decalogue of
+good form. His clothes, whether he wears a Norfolk jacket or a frock
+coat, fit to perfection. He is a good shot, a daring rider, a
+serviceable cricketer. His heart beats with simple emotions, he will
+ever cheer at the sight of the Union Jack, and the strains of <i>Rule
+Britannia</i> bring patriotic tears to his eyes. Of late, (like myself,) he
+has become an Imperialist. His intentions are always strictly
+honourable, and he would not kiss the tip of a woman's fingers except
+Hymen gave him the strictest rights to do so. If he became enamoured of
+a lady with whom such tender sentiments should not be harboured, he
+would invariably remember his duty at the psychological moment, and with
+many moving expressions renounce her: in fact he is a devil at
+renouncing women. I wonder it flatters them.</p>
+
+<p>Contrast with this pattern of excellence, eminently praiseworthy if
+somewhat dull, Don Juan Tenorio, who stands in exactly the same relation
+to the Andalusians as does John Bull to the English. He is a worthless,
+heartless creature, given over to the pursuit of emotion. The main
+lines of the story are well known. The legend, so far as Seville is
+concerned, (industrious persons have found analogues throughout the
+world,) appears to be founded on fact. There actually lived a Comendador
+de Calatrava who was killed by Don Juan after the abduction of his
+daughter. The perfect amorist, according to the <i>Cronica de Sevilla</i>,
+was then inveigled into the church where lay his enemy and assassinated
+by the Franciscans, who spread the pious fiction that the image of his
+victim, descending from its pedestal, had itself exacted vengeance. It
+was an unfortunate invention, for the catastrophe has proved a
+stumbling-block to all that have dealt with the subject. The Spaniards
+of Molina's day may not have minded the clumsy <i>deus ex machina</i>, but
+later writers have been able to make nothing of it. In Molière's play,
+for instance, the grotesque statue is absurdly inapposite, for his Don
+Juan is a wit and a cynic, a courtier of Louis XIV., with whose sins
+avenging gods are out of all proportion. Love for him is an intellectual
+exercise and a pastime. 'Constancy,' he says, 'is only good for fools.
+We owe ourselves to pretty women in general, and the mere fact of having
+met one does not absolve us from our duty to others. The birth of
+passion has an inexplicable charm, and the pleasure of love is in
+variety.' And Zorilla, whose version is the most poetic of them all, has
+succeeded in giving only a ridiculous exhibition of waxworks.</p>
+
+<p>But the monk, Tirso de Molina, who was the first to apply literary form
+to the legend, alone gives the character in its primitive simplicity. He
+drew the men of his time; and his compatriots, recognising themselves,
+have made the work immortal. For Spain, at all events, the type has been
+irrevocably fixed. Don Juan Tenorio was indeed a Spaniard of his age, a
+man of turbulent instincts, with a love of adventure and a fine contempt
+for danger, of an overwhelming pride; careful of his own honour, and
+careless of that of others. He looked upon every woman as lawful prey
+and hesitated at neither perjury nor violence to gain his ends; despair
+and tears left him indifferent. Love for him was purely carnal, with
+nothing of the timid flame of pastoral romance, nor of the chivalrous
+and metaphysic passion of Provence; it was a fierce, consuming fire
+which quickly burnt itself out. He was a vulgar and unoriginal seducer
+who stole favours in the dark by pretending to be the lady's chosen
+lover, or induced guileless maids to trust him under promise of
+marriage, then rode away as fast as his horse could carry him. The
+monotony of his methods and their success are an outrage to the
+intelligence of the sex. But for all his scoffing he remained a true
+Catholic, devoutly believing that the day would come when he must
+account for his acts; and he proposed, when too old to commit more sins,
+to repent and make his peace with the Almighty.</p>
+
+<p>It is significant that the Andalusians have thus chosen Don Juan
+Tenorio, for he is an abstract, with the lines somewhat subdued by the
+advance of civilisation, of the national character. For them his vices,
+his treachery, his heartlessness, have nothing repellent; nor does his
+inconstancy rob him of feminine sympathy. He is, indeed, a far greater
+favourite with the ladies than John Bull. The Englishman they respect,
+they know he will make a good husband and a model father; but he is too
+monogamous to arouse enthusiasm.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Women of Andalusia</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">It</span> is meet and just that the traveller who desires a closer acquaintance
+with the country wherein he sojourns than is obtained by the Cockney
+tripper, should fall in love. The advantages of this proceeding are
+manifold and obvious. He will acquire the language with a more rapid
+facility; he will look upon the land with greater sympathy and hence
+with sharper insight; and little particularities of life will become
+known to him, which to the dreary creature who surveys a strange world
+from the portico of an expensive hotel, must necessarily lie hid. If I
+personally did not arrive at that delectable condition the fault is with
+the immortal gods rather than with myself; for in my eagerness to learn
+the gorgeous tongue of Calderon and of Cervantes, I placed myself
+purposely in circumstances where I thought the darts of young Cupid
+could never fail to miss me. But finally I was reduced to Ollendorf's
+Grammar. However, these are biographical details of interest to none but
+myself; they are merely to serve as preface for certain observations
+upon the women whom the traveller in the evening sees hurrying through
+the Sierpes on their way home.</p>
+
+<p>Human beauty is the most arbitrary of things, and the Englishman,
+accustomed to the classic type of his own countrywomen, will at first
+perhaps be somewhat disappointed with the excellence of Spain. It
+consists but seldom in any regularity of feature, for their appeal is to
+the amorist rather than to the sculptor in marble. Their red lips carry
+suggestions of burning kisses, so that his heart must be hard indeed who
+does not feel some flutterings at their aspect. The teeth are small,
+very white, regular. Face and body, indeed, are but the expression of a
+passionate nature.</p>
+
+<p>But when I write of Spanish women I think of you, Rosarito; I find
+suddenly that it is no impersonal creature that fills my mind, but
+you&mdash;you! When I state solemnly that their greatest beauty lies in their
+hair and eyes, it is of you I think; it is your dark eyes that were
+lustrous, soft as velvet, caressing sometimes, and sometimes sparkling
+with fiery glances. (Alas! that I can find but hackneyed phrases to
+describe those heart-disturbers!) And when I say that the eyebrows of a
+Spanish woman are not often so delicately pencilled as with many an
+English girl, I remember that yours were thick; and the luxuriance gave
+you a certain tropical and savage charm. And your hair was plentiful and
+curling, intensely black; I believe it was your greatest care in life.
+Don't you remember how often you explained to me that nothing was so
+harmful as to brush it, and how proud you were that it hung in glorious
+locks to your very knees?</p>
+
+<p>Hardly any girl in Seville is too poor to have a <i>peinadora</i> to do her
+hair; and these women go from house to house, combing and arranging the
+coiffure for such infinitesimal sums as half a <i>real</i>, which is little
+more than a penny.</p>
+
+<p>Again I try to be impersonal. The complexion ranges through every
+quality from dark olive to pearly white; but yours, Rosarito, was like
+the very finest ivory, a perfect miracle of delicacy and brilliance; and
+the blood in the cheeks shone through with a rich, soft red. I used to
+think it was a colour by itself, not to be found on palettes, the
+carnation of your cheeks, Rosarito. And none could walk with such
+graceful dignity as you; it was a pleasure to watch your perfect ease,
+your self-command. Your feet, I think, were somewhat long; but your
+hands were wonderful, very small, admirably modelled, with little
+tapering fingers, and the most adorable filbert nails. Don't you
+remember how I used to look at them, and turn them over and discuss them
+point by point? And if ever I kissed their soft, warm palms, (I think it
+possible, though I have no vivid recollections,) remember that I was
+twenty-three; and it was certainly an appropriate gesture in the little
+comedy which to our mutual entertainment we played so gravely.</p>
+
+<p>Now, as I write, my heart goes pit-a-pat, thinking of you, Rosarito; and
+I'm sure that if we had over again that charming time, I should fall
+head over ears in love. Oh, you know we were both fibbing when we vowed
+we adored one another; I am a romancer by profession, and you by nature.
+We parted joyously, and you had the grace not to force a tear, and
+neither of our hearts was broken. Where are you now, I wonder; and do
+you ever think of me?</p>
+
+<p class="tb">The whole chapter of Andalusian beauty is unfolded in the tobacco
+factory at Seville. Six thousand women work there, at little tables
+placed by the columns which uphold the roof; they are of all ages, of
+all types; plain, pretty, commonplace, beautiful; and ten, perhaps, are
+lovely. The gipsies are disappointing, not so comely as the pure
+Spaniards; and they attract only by the sphinx-like mystery of their
+copper-coloured skin, by their hard, unfathomable eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The Sevillans are perhaps inclined to stoutness, but that is a charm in
+their lover's sight, and often have a little down on the upper lip, than
+which, when it amounts to no more than a shadow, nothing can be more
+enchanting. They look with malicious eyes as you saunter through room
+after room in the factory; it is quite an experience to run the gauntlet
+of their numerous tongues, making uncomplimentary remarks about your
+person, sometimes to your embarrassment offering you the carnation from
+their hair, or other things. Their clothes are suspended to the pillars,
+and their costume in summer is more adapted for coolness than for the
+inspection of decorous foreigners. They may bring with them babies, and
+many a girl will have a cradle by her side, which she rocks with one
+foot as her fingers work nimbly at the cigarettes.</p>
+
+<p>They are very oriental, these women with voluptuous forms; they have no
+education, and with all their charm are unutterably stupid; they do not
+read, and find even newspapers tiresome! Those whose circumstances do
+not force them to work for their living, love nothing better than to lie
+for long hours on a sofa, neither talking nor thinking, in easy gowns,
+untrammelled by tight-fitting things. In the morning they put on a
+<i>mantilla</i> and go to mass, and besides, except to pay a polite visit on
+a friend or to drive in the Paseo, hardly leave the house. They are
+content with the simplest life. They adore their children, and willingly
+devote themselves entirely to them; they seem never to be bored.</p>
+
+<p>For them the days must come and go without distinction. Their fleeting
+beauty leaves them imperceptibly; they grow fat, they grow thin,
+wrinkled, and gaunt; the years pass and their life proceeds without
+change. They do not think, they do not live: they merely exist, and they
+die, and that is the end of it. I suppose they are as happy as any one
+else. After all, taking it from one point of view, it matters very
+little what sort of life one leads, there are so many people in the
+world, such millions have come and gone, such millions will come and go.
+If an individual makes no use of his hour what does it signify? He is
+only one among countless hordes. In the existence of these handsome
+creatures, so passionate and yet so apathetic, there are no particular
+pleasures beside the simple joys of sense, but on the other hand, beyond
+the inevitable separations of death, there are no outstanding griefs.
+They propagate their species, and that, perhaps, is the only quite
+certain duty that human beings have.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Dance</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">Cervantes</span> said that there was never born a Spanish woman but she was
+made to dance; and he might have added that in the South, at all events,
+most men share the enviable faculty. The dance is one of the most
+characteristic features of Andalusia, and as an amusement rivals in
+popularity even the bull-fight. The Sevillans dance on every possible
+occasion, and nothing pleases them more than the dexterity of
+professionals. Before a company has been assembled half an hour some one
+is bound to suggest that a couple should show their skill; room is
+quickly made, the table pushed against the wall, the chairs drawn back,
+and they begin. Even when men are alone in a tavern, drinking wine, two
+of them will often enough stand up to tread a <i>seguidilla</i>. On a rainy
+day it is the entertainment that naturally recommends itself.</p>
+
+<p>Riding through the villages round Seville on Sundays it delighted me to
+see little groups making a circle about the house doors, in the middle
+of which were dancing two girls in bright-coloured clothes, with roses
+in their hair. A man seated on a broken chair was twanging a guitar, the
+surrounders beat their hands in time and the dancers made music with
+their castanets. Sometimes on a feast-day I came across a little band,
+arrayed in all its best, that had come into the country for an
+afternoon's diversion, and sat on the grass in the shade of summer or in
+the wintry sun. Whenever Andalusians mean to make merry some one will
+certainly bring a guitar, or if not the girls have their castanets; and
+though even these are wanting and no one can be induced to sing, a
+rhythmical clapping of hands will be sufficient accompaniment, and the
+performers will snap their fingers in lieu of castanets.</p>
+
+<p>It is charming then to see the girls urge one another to dance; each
+vows with much dramatic gesture that she cannot, calling the Blessed
+Virgin to witness that she has strained her ankle and has a shocking
+cold. But some youth springs up and volunteers, inviting a particular
+damsel to join him. She is pushed forward, and the couple take their
+places. The man carefully puts down his cigarette, jams his
+broad-brimmed hat on his head, buttons his short coat and arches his
+back! The spectators cry: '<i>Ole!</i>' The girl passes an arranging hand
+over her hair. The measure begins. The pair stand opposite one another,
+a yard or so distant, and foot it in accordance with one another's
+motions. It is not a thing of complicated steps, but, as one might
+expect from its Moorish origin, of movements of the body. With much
+graceful swaying from side to side the executants approach and retire,
+and at the middle of the dance change positions. It finishes with a
+great clapping of hands, the maiden sinks down among her friends and
+begins violently to fan herself, while her partner, with a great
+affectation of nonchalance, takes a seat and relights his cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>And in the music-halls the national dances are, with the national songs,
+the principal attraction. Seville possesses but one of these
+establishments; it is a queer place, merely the <i>patio</i> of a private
+house, with a stage at one end, in which chairs and tables have been
+placed. On holiday nights it is crammed with students, with countrymen
+and artisans, with the general riff-raff of the town, and with women of
+no particular reputation. Now and then appears a gang of soldiers,
+giving a peculiar note with the uniformity of their brown holland suits;
+and occasionally a couple of British sailors come sauntering in with
+fine self-assurance, their fair hair and red cheeks contrasting with the
+general swartness. You pay no entrance money, but your refreshment costs
+a <i>real</i>&mdash;which is twopence ha'penny; and for that you may enjoy not
+only a cup of coffee or a glass of manzanilla, but an evening's
+entertainment. As the night wears on the heat is oven-like, and the air
+is thick and grey with the smoke of countless cigarettes.</p>
+
+<p>The performance consists of three 'turns' only, and these are repeated
+every hour. The company boasts generally of a male singer, a female
+singer, and of the <i>corps de ballet</i>, which is made up of six persons.
+Spain is the stronghold of the out-of-date, and I suppose it alone
+preserves the stiff muslin ballet-skirts which delighted our fathers. To
+see half-a-dozen dancers thus attired in a remote Andalusian music-hall
+is so entirely unexpected that it quite takes the breath away. But by
+the time the traveller reaches Seville he must be used to disillusion,
+and he must be ingenuous indeed if he expects the Spaniards to have
+preserved their national costume for the most national of their
+pastimes. Yet the dances are still Spanish; and even if the pianoforte
+has ousted the guitar, the castanets give, notwithstanding, a
+characteristic note which the aggressive muslin and the pink,
+ill-fitting tights cannot entirely destroy.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">But I remember one dancer who was really a great artist. She was
+ill-favoured, of middle age, thin; but every part of her was imbued with
+grace, expressive, from the tips of her toes to the tips of her fingers.
+The demands of the public sometimes forced upon her odious
+ballet-skirts, sometimes she wasted her talent on the futilities of
+skirt-dancing; but chiefly she loved the national measures, and her
+phenomenal leanness made her only comfortable in the national dress. She
+travelled from place to place in Spain with another woman whom she had
+taught to dance, and whose beauty she used cleverly as a foil to her own
+uncomeliness; and so wasted herself in these low resorts, earning hardly
+sufficient to keep body and soul together. I wish I could remember her
+name.</p>
+
+<p>When she began to dance you forgot her ugliness; her gaunt arms gained
+shape, her face was transfigured, her dark eyes flashed, and her mouth
+and smile said a thousand eloquent things. Even the nape of her neck,
+which in most women has no significance, with her was expressive. A
+consummate actress, she exhibited all her skill in the <i>bolero</i>, which
+represents a courtship; she threw aside the castanets and wrapped
+herself in a <i>mantilla</i>, while her companion, dressed as a man, was
+hidden in a <i>capa</i>. The two passed one another, he trying to see the
+lady's face, which she averted, but not too strenuously; he pursued, she
+fled, but not too rapidly. Dropping his cloak, the lover attacked with
+greater warmth, while alternately she repelled and lured him on. At last
+she too cast away the <i>mantilla</i>. They seized the castanets and danced
+round one another with all manner of graceful and complicated
+evolutions, making love, quarrelling, pouting, exhibiting every variety
+of emotion. The dance grew more passionate, the steps flew faster, till
+at last, with the music, both stopped suddenly dead still. This abrupt
+cessation is one of the points most appreciated by a Spanish audience.
+'<i>Ole!</i>' they cry,'<i>bien parado!</i>'</p>
+
+<p>But when, unhampered by a partner, this nameless, exquisite dancer gave
+full play to her imagination, there was no end to the wildness of her
+fancy, to the intricacy and elaboration of her measures, to the gay
+audacity of her movements. She performed a hundred feats, each more
+difficult than the other&mdash;and all impossible to describe.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">Then, between Christmas and Lent, at midnight on Saturdays and Sundays,
+the tables and the chairs are cleared away for the masked ball; and you
+will see the latest mode of Spanish dance. The women are of the lowest
+possible class; some, with a kind of savage irony, disguised as nuns,
+others in grotesque dominos of their own devising; but most wear
+every-day clothes with great shawls draped about them. The men are of a
+corresponding station, and through the evening wear their broad-brimmed
+hats. On the stage is a brass band, which plays one single tune till
+day-break, and to that one single measure is danced&mdash;the <i>habanera</i>.</p>
+
+<p>In this alone may people take part as in any round dance. The couples
+hold one another in the very tightest embrace, the lady clasping her
+arms round her partner's neck, while he places both his about her waist.
+They go round the room very slowly, immediately behind one another; it
+is a kind of straight polka, with a peculiar, rhythmic swaying of the
+body; the feet are not lifted off the floor, and you do not turn at all.
+The highest gravity is preserved throughout, and the whole performance
+is&mdash;well, very oriental.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Feast Day</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">I</span> arrived in Seville on the Eve of the Immaculate Conception. All day
+people had been preparing to celebrate the feast, decorating their
+houses with great banners of blue and white; and at night the silent,
+narrow streets had a strange appearance, for in every window were
+lighted candles, throwing around them a white, unusual glare; they
+looked a little like the souls of infants dead. All day the bells of a
+hundred churches had been ringing, half drowned by the rolling peals of
+the Giralda.</p>
+
+<p>It had been announced that the archbishop would himself officiate at the
+High Mass in the Blessed Virgin's honour; and early in the morning the
+cathedral steps were crowded with black-robed women, making their way to
+the great sacristy where was to be held the service. I joined the
+throng, and entering through the darkness of the porch, was almost
+blinded by the brilliant altar, upon which stood a life-sized image of
+the Virgin, surrounded by a huge aureole, with great bishops, all of
+silver, on either side. It was ablaze with the light of many candles, so
+that the nave was thrown into deep shadow, and the kneeling women were
+scarcely visible.</p>
+
+<p>The canons in the choir listlessly droned their prayers. At last the
+organ burst forth, and a long procession slowly came into the chapel,
+priests in white and blue, the colours of the Virgin, four bishops in
+mitres, the archbishop with his golden crozier; and preceding them all,
+in odd contrast, the beadle in black, with a dark periwig, bearing a
+silver staff. From the choir in due order they returned to the altar,
+headed this time by three pairs of acolytes, bearing great silver
+candlesticks, and by incense-burners, that filled the church with rich
+perfume.</p>
+
+<p>When the Mass was finished, a young dark man in copious robes of violet
+ascended the pulpit and muttered a text. He waited an instant to collect
+himself, looking at the congregation; then turning to the altar began a
+passionate song of praise to the Blessed Virgin, unsoiled by original
+sin. He described her as in a hundred pictures the great painter of the
+Immaculate Conception has portrayed her&mdash;a young and graceful maid,
+clothed in a snowy gown of ample folds, with an azure cloak, a maid
+mysteriously pure; her hair, floating on the shoulders in luxurious
+ringlets, was an aureole more glorious than the silver rays which
+surrounded the great image; her dark eyes, with their languid lashes,
+her mouth, with the red lips, expressed a beautiful and immaculate
+virtue. It might have been some earthly woman of whom the priest spoke,
+one of those Andalusians that knelt below him, flashing quick glances at
+the gallant who negligently leaned against a pillar.</p>
+
+<p>The archbishop sat on his golden throne&mdash;a thin, small man with a
+wrinkled face, with dead and listless eyes; in his gorgeous vestments
+he looked hardly human, he seemed a puppet, sitting stilly. At the end
+of the sermon he went back to the altar, and in his low, broken voice
+read the prayers. And then turning towards the great congregation he
+gave the plenary absolution, for which the Pope's Bull had been read
+from the pulpit steps.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">In the afternoon, when the sun was going down behind the Guadalquivir,
+over the plain, I went again to the cathedral. The canons in the choir
+still droned their chant in praise of the Blessed Virgin, and in the
+greater darkness the altar shone more magnificently. The same procession
+filed through the nave, some priests were in black, some in violet, some
+in the Virgin's colours; but this time the archbishop wore gorgeous
+robes of scarlet, and as he knelt at the altar his train spread to the
+chancel steps. From the side appeared ten boys and knelt before the
+altar, and stood in two lines facing one another. They were dressed like
+pages of the seventeenth century, with white stockings and breeches, and
+a doublet of blue and silver, holding in their hands hats with long
+feathers. The archbishop, kneeling in front of the throne, buried his
+face in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>A soft melody, played by violins and 'cellos, broke the silence, and
+presently the ten pages began to sing:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Los cielos y la tierra alaben al Señor</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Con imnos de alabanza que inflamen al Señor.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>It was a curious, old-fashioned music, reminding one a little of the
+quiet harmonies of Gluck. Then, putting on their hats, the pages danced,
+continuing their song; they wound in and out of one another, gravely
+footing it, swaying to and fro with the music very slowly. The measure
+was performed with the utmost reverence. Now and then the chorus came,
+and the fresh boys' voices, singing in unison, filled the church with
+delightful melody. And still the old archbishop prayed, his face buried
+in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>The boys ceased to sing, but continued the dance, marking the time now
+with castanets, and the mundane instrument contrasted strangely with the
+glittering altar and with the kneeling priests. I wondered of what the
+archbishop thought, kneeling so humbly&mdash;of the boys dancing before the
+altar, fresh and young? Was he thinking of their white souls darkening
+with the sins of the world, or of the troubles, the disillusionments of
+life, and the decrepitude? Or was it of himself&mdash;did he think of his own
+youth, so long past, so hopelessly gone, or did he think that he was old
+and worn, and of the dark journey before him, and of the light that
+seemed so distant? Did he regret his beautiful Seville with the blue
+sky, and the orange-trees bowed down with their golden fruit? He seemed
+so small and weak, overwhelmed in his gorgeous robes.</p>
+
+<p>Again the ten boys repeated their song and dance and their castanets,
+and with a rapid genuflection disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>The archbishop rose painfully from his knees and ascended to the altar.
+A priest held open a book before him, and another lighted the printed
+page with a candle; he read out a prayer. Then, kneeling down, he bent
+very low, as though he felt himself unworthy to behold the magnificence
+of the Queen of Heaven. The people fell to their knees, and a man's
+voice burst forth&mdash;<i>Ave Maria, gratia plena</i>; waves of passionate sound
+floated over the worshippers, upwards, towards heaven. And from the
+Giralda, the Moorish tower, the Christian bells rang joyfully. The
+archbishop turned towards the people; and when in his thin, broken voice
+he gave the benediction, one thought that no man in his heart felt such
+humility as the magnificent prince of the Church, Don Marcelo Spinola y
+Maestre, Archbishop of Seville.</p>
+
+<p>The people flocked out quickly, and soon only a few devout penitents
+remained. A priest came, waving censers before the altar, and thick
+volumes of perfume ascended to the Blessed Virgin. He disappeared, and
+one by one the candles were extinguished. The night crept silently along
+the church, and the silver image sank into the darkness; at last two
+candles only were left on the altar, high up, shining dimly.</p>
+
+<p>Outside the sky was still blue, bespattered with countless stars.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Note.</span>&mdash;I believe there is no definite explanation of this ceremony,
+and the legend told me by an ancient priest that it was invented
+during the Moorish dominion so that Christian services might be
+held under cover of a social gathering&mdash;intruding Muslims would be
+told merely that people were there assembled to see boys dance and
+to listen to their singing&mdash;is more picturesque than probable.
+Rather does it seem analogous with the leaping of David the King
+before the Ark of Jehovah, when he danced before the Lord with all
+his might, girt with a linen Ephod; and this, if I may hazard an
+opinion, was with a view to amuse a deity apt to be bored or
+languid, just as Nautch girls dance to this day before the idols of
+the Hindus, and tops are spun before Krishna to divert him.</p></div>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Giralda</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">The</span> Christian bells rang joyfully from the Moorish tower, the great old
+bells christened with holy oil, <i>el Cantor</i> the Singer, <i>la Gorda</i> the
+Great, <i>San Miguel</i>. I climbed the winding passage till I came to the
+terrace where stood the ringers, and as they pulled their ropes the
+bells swung round on their axles, completing a circle, with deafening
+clamour. The din was terrific, so that the solid masonry appeared to
+shake, and I felt the vibrations of the surrounding air. It was a
+strange sensation to shout as loud as possible and hear no sound issue
+from my mouth.</p>
+
+<p>The Giralda, with its Moorish base and its Christian belfry, is a symbol
+of Andalusia. There is in the Ayuntamiento an old picture of the Minaret
+built by Djâbir the Moor, nearly one hundred feet shorter than the
+completed tower, but surmounted by a battlemented platform on which are
+huge brazen balls and an iron standard. These were overthrown by an
+earthquake, and later, when the discoveries of Christopher Columbus had
+poured unmeasured riches into Seville, the Chapter commissioned Hernan
+Ruiz to add a belfry to the Moorish base. Hernan Ruiz nearly ruined the
+mosque at Cordova, but here he was entirely successful. Indeed it is
+extraordinary that the two parts should be joined in such admirable
+harmony. It is impossible to give in words an idea of the slender grace
+of the Giralda, it does not look a thing of bricks and mortar, it is so
+straight and light that it reminds one vaguely of some beautiful human
+thing. The great height is astonishing, there is no buttress or
+projection to break the very long straight line as it rises, with a kind
+of breathless speed, to the belfry platform. And then the renaissance
+building begins, ascending still more, a sort of filigree work,
+excessively rich, and elegant beyond all praise. It is surmounted by a
+female figure of bronze, representing Faith and veering with every
+breeze, and the artist has surrounded his work with the motto: <i>Nomen
+Domini Fortissima Turris</i>.</p>
+
+<p>But the older portion gains another charm from the Moorish windows that
+pierce it, one above the other, with horseshoe arches; and from the
+arabesque network with which the upper part is diapered, a brick
+trellis-work against the brick walls, of the most graceful and delicate
+intricacy. The Giralda is almost toylike in the daintiness of its
+decoration. Notwithstanding its great size it is a masterpiece of
+exquisite proportion. At night it stands out with strong lines against
+the bespangled sky, and the lights of the watchers give it a magic
+appearance of some lacelike tower of imagination; but on high festivals
+it is lit with countless lamps, and then, as Richard Ford puts it, hangs
+from the dark vault of heaven like a brilliant chandelier.</p>
+
+<p>I looked down at Seville from above. A Spanish town wears always its
+most picturesque appearance thus seen, but it is never different; the
+<i>patios</i> glaring with whitewash, the roofs of brown and yellow tiles,
+and the narrow streets, winding in unexpected directions, narrower than
+ever from such a height and dark with shade, so that they seem black
+rivulets gliding stealthily through the whiteness. Looking at a northern
+city from a tall church tower all things are confused with one another,
+the slate roofs join together till it is like a huge uneven sea of grey;
+but in Seville the atmosphere is so limpid, the colour so brilliant,
+that every house is clearly separated from its neighbour, and sometimes
+there appears to be between them a preternatural distinctness. Each
+stands independently of any other; you might suppose yourself in a
+strange city of the <i>Arabian Nights</i> where a great population lived in
+houses crowded together, but invisibly, so that each person fancied
+himself in isolation.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately below was the Cathedral and to remind you of Cordova, the
+Court of Oranges; but here was no sunny restfulness, nor old-world
+quiet. The Court is gloomy and dark, and the trim rows of orange-trees
+contrast oddly with the grey stone of the Cathedral, its huge porches,
+and the flamboyant exuberance of its decoration. The sun never shines in
+it and no fruit splash the dark foliage with gold. You do not think of
+the generations of priests who have wandered in it on the summer
+evenings, basking away their peaceful lives in the sunshine; but rather
+of the busy merchants who met there in the old days when it was still
+the exchange of Seville, before the Lonja was built, to discuss the war
+with England, or the fate of ships bringing gold from America. At one
+end of the court is an old stone pulpit from which preached St. Francis
+of Borga and St. Vincent Ferrer and many an unknown monk besides. Then
+it was thronged with multi-coloured crowds, with townsmen, soldiers and
+great noblemen, when the faith was living and strong; and the preacher,
+with all the gesture and the impassioned rhetoric of a Spaniard, poured
+out burning words of hate for Jew and Moor and Heretic, so that the
+listeners panted and a veil of blood passed before their eyes; or else
+uttered so eloquent a song in praise of the Blessed Virgin, immaculately
+conceived, that strong men burst into tears at the recital of her
+perfect beauty.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Cathedral of Seville</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">Your</span> first impression when you walk round the cathedral of Seville,
+noting with dismay the crushed cupolas and unsightly excrescences, the
+dinginess of colour, is not enthusiastic. It was built by German
+architects without a thought for the surrounding houses, brilliantly
+whitewashed, and the blue sky, and it proves the incongruity of northern
+art in a southern country; but even lowering clouds and mist could lend
+no charm to the late Gothic of <i>Santa Maria de la Sede</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The interior fortunately is very different. Notwithstanding the Gothic
+groining, as you enter from the splendid heat of noonday, (in the Plaza
+del Triunfo the sun beats down and the houses are more dazzling than
+snow,) the effect is thoroughly and delightfully Spanish. Light is very
+fatal to devotion and the Spaniards have been so wise as to make their
+churches extremely dark. At first you can see nothing. Incense floats
+heavily about you, filling the air, and the coolness is like a draught
+of fresh, perfumed water. But gradually the church detaches itself from
+the obscurity and you see great columns, immensely lofty. The spaces are
+large and simple, giving an impression of vast room; and the choir,
+walled up on three sides, in the middle of the nave as in all Spanish
+cathedrals, by obstructing the view gives an appearance of almost
+unlimited extent. To me it seems that in such a place it is easier to
+comprehend the majesty wherewith man has equipped himself. Science
+offers only thoughts of human insignificance; the vastness of the sea,
+the terror of the mountains, emphasise the fact that man is of no
+account, ephemeral as the leaves of summer. But in those bold aisles, by
+the pillars rising with such a confident pride towards heaven, it is
+almost impossible not to feel that man indeed is god-like, lord of the
+earth; and that the great array of nature is builded for his purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Typically Spanish also is the decoration, and very rich. The
+choir-stalls are of carved wood, florid and exuberant like the Spanish
+imagination; the altars gleam with gold; pictures of saints are framed
+by golden pillars carved with huge bunches of grapes and fruit and
+fantastic leaves. I was astounded at the opulence of the treasure; there
+were gorgeous altars of precious metal, great saints of silver, caskets
+of gold, monstrances studded with rare stones, crosses and crucifixes.
+The vestments were of unimaginable splendour: there were two hundred
+copes of all ages and of every variety, fifty of each colour, white for
+Christmas and Easter, red for Corpus Christi, blue for the Immaculate
+Conception, violet for Holy Week; there were the special copes of the
+Primate, copes for officiating bishops, copes for dignitaries from other
+countries and dioceses. They were of the richest velvet and satin,
+heavily embroidered with gold, many with saints worked in silk, so
+heavy that it seemed hardly possible for a man to bear them.</p>
+
+<p>In the Baptistery, filling it with warm light, is the <i>San Antonio</i> of
+Murillo, than which no picture gives more intensely the religious
+emotion. The saint, tall and meagre, beautiful of face, looks at the
+Divine Child hovering in a golden mist with an ecstasy that is no longer
+human.</p>
+
+<p>It is interesting to consider whether an artist need feel the sentiment
+he desires to convey. Certainly many pictures have been painted under
+the influence of profound feeling which leave the spectator entirely
+cold, and it is probable enough that the early Italians felt few of the
+emotions which their pictures call forth. We know that the masterpieces
+of Perugino, so moving, so instinct with religious tenderness, were very
+much a matter of pounds, shillings and pence. But Luis de Vargas, on the
+other hand, daily humbled himself by scourging and by wearing a hair
+shirt, and Vicente Joanes prepared himself for a new picture by
+communion and confession; so that it is impossible to wonder at the rude
+and savage ardour of their work. And the impression that may be gathered
+of Murillo from his pictures is borne out by the study of his grave and
+simple life. He had not the turbulent piety of the other two, but a calm
+and sweet devotion, which led him to spend long hours in church,
+meditating. He, at any rate, felt all that he expressed.</p>
+
+<p>I do not know a church that gives the religious sentiment more
+completely than Seville Cathedral. The worship of the Spaniards is
+sombre, full-blooded, a thing of dark rich colours; it requires the
+heaviness of incense and that overloading of rococo decoration. It is
+curious that notwithstanding their extreme similarity to the
+Neapolitans, the Andalusians should in their faith differ so entirely.
+Of course, in Southern Italy religion is as full of superstition&mdash;an
+adoration of images in which all symbolism is lost and only the gross
+idol remains; but it is a gayer and a lighter thing than in Spain. Most
+characteristic of this is the difference between the churches; and with
+<i>Santa Maria de la Sede</i> may well be contrasted the Neapolitan <i>Santa
+Chiara</i>, with its great windows, so airy and spacious, sparkling with
+white and gold. The paintings are almost frolicsome. It is like a
+ballroom, a typical place of worship for a generation that had no desire
+to pray, but strutted in gaudy silks and ogled over pretty fans,
+pretending to discuss the latest audacity of Monsieur Arouet de
+Voltaire.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Hospital of Charity</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">The</span> Spaniards possess to the fullest degree the art of evoking devout
+emotions, and in their various churches may be experienced every phase
+of religious feeling. After the majestic size and the solemn mystery of
+the Cathedral, nothing can come as a greater contrast than the Church of
+the Hermandad de la Caredad. It was built by don Miguel de Mañara, who
+rests in the chancel, with the inscription over him: '<i>Aqui jacen los
+huesos y ceñizas del peor hombre que ha habido en el mundo; ruegan por
+el</i>'&mdash;'Here lie the bones and ashes of the worst man that has ever been
+in the world; pray for him.' But like all Andalusians he was a braggart;
+for a love of chocolate, which appears to have been his besetting sin,
+is insufficient foundation for such a vaunt: a vice of that order is
+adequately punished by the corpulence it must occasion. However, legend,
+representing don Miguel as the most dissolute of libertines, is more
+friendly. The grave sister who escorts the visitor relates that one day
+in church don Miguel saw a beautiful nun, and undaunted by her habit,
+made amorous proposals. She did not speak, but turned to look at him,
+whereupon he saw the side of her face which had been hidden from his
+gaze, and it was eaten away by a foul and loathsome disease, so that it
+seemed more horrible than the face of death. The gallant was so
+terrified that he fainted, and afterwards the face haunted him, the face
+of matchless beauty and of revolting decay, so that he turned from the
+world. He devoted his fortune to rebuilding the hospital and church of
+the Brotherhood of Charity, whose chief office it was to administer the
+sacraments to those condemned to death and provide for their burial, and
+was eventually received into their Order.</p>
+
+<p>It was in the seventeenth century that Mañara built his church, and
+consequently rococo holds sway with all its fantasies. It is small,
+without aisles or chapels, and the morbid opulence of the decoration
+gives it a peculiar character. The walls are lined with red damask, and
+the floor carpeted with a heavy crimson carpet; it gives the sensation
+of a hothouse, or, with its close odours, of a bedchamber transformed
+into a chapel for the administration of the last sacrament. The
+atmosphere is unhealthy: one pants for breath.</p>
+
+<p>At one end, taking up the entire wall, is a reredos by Pedro Roldan, of
+which the centrepiece is an elaborate 'Deposition in the Tomb,' with
+numerous figures coloured to the life. It is very fine in its mingling
+of soft, rich hues and flamboyant realism. The artist has revelled in
+the opportunity for anguish of expression that his subject afforded, but
+has treated it with such a passionate seriousness that, in his grim,
+fierce way, he does not fail to be impressive. The frame is of twisted
+golden pillars, supported by little naked angels, and decorated with
+grapes and vine-leaves. Above and at the sides are great saints in
+carved wood, and angels with floating drapery.</p>
+
+<p>Murillo was on terms of intimacy with don Miguel de Mañara, and like him
+a member of the Hermandad. For his friend he painted some of his most
+famous pictures, which by the subdued ardour of their colour, by their
+opulent tones, harmonise most exquisitely with the church. Marshal
+Soult, with a fine love of art that was profitable, carried off several
+of them, and their empty frames stare at one still. But before that,
+when they were all in place, the effect must have been of unique
+magnificence.</p>
+
+<p>It must be an extraordinary religion that flourishes in such a place, an
+artificial faith that needs heat like tropical plants, that desires
+unnatural vows. It breathes of neurotic emotions with its damask-covered
+walls, with its carpet that deadens the footfall, its sombre, gorgeous
+pictures. The sweet breeze of heaven never enters there, nor the
+sunlight; the air is languid with incense; one is oppressed by a
+strange, heavy silence. In such a church sins must be fostered for the
+morbid pleasure of confession. One can imagine that the worshippers in
+that overloaded atmosphere would see strange visions, voluptuous and
+mystical; the Blessed Mary and the Saints might gain visible and
+palpable flesh, and the devil would not be far off. There the gruesome
+imaginings of Valdes Leal are a fitting decoration. Every one knows that
+grim picture of a bishop in episcopal robes, eaten by worms, his flesh
+putrefying, which led Murillo to say: 'Leal, you make me hold my nose,'
+and the other answered: 'You have taken all the flesh and left me
+nought but the bones.' Elsewhere, by the same master, there is a
+painting that suggests, with greater poignancy to my mind because less
+brutally, the thoughts evoked by the more celebrated work, and since it
+seems to complete the ideas awakened by this curious chapel, I mention
+it here.</p>
+
+<p>It represents a priest at the altar, saying his mass, and the altar
+after the Spanish fashion is sumptuous with gilt and florid carving. He
+wears a magnificent cope and a surplice of exquisite lace, but he wears
+them as though their weight were more than he could bear; and in the
+meagre, trembling hands, and in the white, ashen face, in the dark
+hollowness of the eyes and in the sunken cheeks, there is a bodily
+corruption that is terrifying. The priest seems to hold together with
+difficulty the bonds of the flesh, but with no eager yearning of the
+soul to burst its prison, only with despair; it is as if the Lord
+Almighty had forsaken him, and the high heavens were empty of their
+solace. All the beauty of life appears forgotten, and there is nothing
+in the world but decay. A ghastly putrefaction has attacked already the
+living man; the worms of the grave, the piteous horror of mortality, and
+the darkness before him offer nought but fear, and what soul is there to
+rise again! Beyond, dark night is seen and a turbulent sea, the dark
+night of the soul of which the mystics write, and the troublous sea of
+life whereon there is no refuge for the weary and the sick at heart.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">Then, if you would study yet another phase of the religious sentiment,
+go to the Museo, where are the fine pictures that Murillo painted for
+the Capuchin Monastery. You will see all the sombreness of Spanish
+piety, the savage faith, dissolved into ineffable love. Religion has
+become a wonderful tenderness, in which passionate human affection is
+inextricably mingled with god-like adoration. Murillo, these sensual
+forms quivering with life, brought the Eternal down to earth, and gave
+terrestrial ardour to the apathy of an impersonal devotion; that,
+perhaps, is why to women he has always been the most fascinating of
+painters. In the <i>Madonna de la Servilleta</i>&mdash;painted on a napkin for the
+cook of the monastery&mdash;the child is a simple, earthly infant, fresh and
+rosy, with wide-open, wondering eyes and not a trace of immortality. I
+myself saw a common woman of the streets stand before this picture with
+tears running down her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Corazon de mi alma!</i>' she said, 'Heart of my soul! I could cover his
+little body with kisses.'</p>
+
+<p>She smiled, but could hardly restrain her sobs. The engrossing love of a
+mother for her child seemed joined in miraculous union with the worship
+of a mortal for his God.</p>
+
+<p>Murillo had neither the power nor the desire to idealise his models. The
+saints of these great pictures, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Felix of
+Cantalicio, St. Thomas of Villanueva, are monks and beggars such as may
+to this day be seen in the streets of Seville. St. Felix is merely an
+old man with hollow cheeks and a grey, ragged beard; but yet as he
+clasps the child in his arms with eager tenderness, he is transfigured
+by a divine ecstasy: his face is radiant with the most touching
+emotion. And St. Antony of Padua, in another picture, worships the
+infant God with a mystic adoration, which, notwithstanding the realism
+of the presentment, lifts him far, far above the earth.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Gaol</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">I</span> was curious to see the prison in Seville. Gruesome tales had been told
+me of its filth and horror, and the wretched condition of the prisoners;
+I had even heard that from the street you might see them pressing
+against the barred windows with arms thrust through, begging the
+passer-by for money or bread. Mediæval stories recurred to my mind and
+the clank of chains trailed through my imagination.</p>
+
+<p>I arranged to be conducted by the prison doctor, and one morning soon
+after five set out to meet him. My guide informed me by a significant
+gesture that his tendencies were&mdash;bibulous, and our meeting-place was a
+tavern; but when we arrived they told us that don Felipe&mdash;such was his
+name&mdash;had been taken his morning dram and gone; however, if we went to
+another inn we should doubtless find him. But there we heard he had not
+yet arrived, he was not due till half-past five. To pass the time we
+drank a mouthful of <i>aguardiente</i> and smoked a cigarette, and eventually
+the medico was espied in the distance. We went towards him&mdash;a round, fat
+person with a red face and a redder nose, somewhat shabbily dressed.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at me pointedly and said:</p>
+
+<p>'I'm dry. <i>Vengo seco.</i>'</p>
+
+<p>It was a hint not to be neglected, and we returned to the tavern where
+don Felipe had his nip.</p>
+
+<p>'It's very good for the stomach,' he assured me.</p>
+
+<p>We sallied forth together, and as we walked he told me the number of
+prisoners, the sort of crimes for which they were detained&mdash;ranging from
+man-slaughter to petty larceny&mdash;and finally, details of his own career.
+He was an intelligent man, and when we came to the prison door insisted
+on drinking my health.</p>
+
+<p>The prison is an old convent, and it is a little startling to see the
+church façade, with a statue of the Madonna over the central porch. At
+the steps a number of women stood waiting with pots and jars and
+handkerchiefs full of food for their relatives within; and when the
+doctor appeared several rushed up to ask about a father or a son that
+lay sick. We went in and there was a melodramatic tinkling of keys and
+an unlocking of heavy doors.</p>
+
+<p>The male prisoners, the adults, were in the <i>patio</i> of the convent,
+where in olden days the nuns had wandered on summer evenings, watering
+their roses. The iron door was opened and shut behind us; there was a
+movement of curiosity at the sight of a stranger, and many turned to
+look at me. Such as had illnesses came to the doctor, and he looked at
+their tongues and felt their pulse, giving directions to an assistant
+who stood beside him with a note-book. Don Felipe was on excellent terms
+with his patients, laughing and joking; a malingerer asked if he could
+not have a little wine because his throat was sore; the doctor jeered
+and the man began to laugh; they bandied repartees with one another.</p>
+
+<p>There were about two hundred in the <i>patio</i>, and really they did not
+seem to have so bad a time. There was one large group gathered round a
+man who read a newspaper aloud; it was Monday morning, and all listened
+intently to the account of a bull-fight on the previous day, bursting
+into a little cry of surprise and admiration on hearing that the
+<i>matador</i> had been caught and tossed. Others lay by a pillar playing
+draughts for matches, while half a dozen more eagerly watched, giving
+unsolicited advice with much gesticulation. The draught-board consisted
+of little squares drawn on the pavement with chalk, and the pieces were
+scraps of white and yellow paper. One man sat cross-legged by a column
+busily rolling cigarettes; he had piles of them by his side arranged in
+packets, which he sold at one penny each; it was certainly an illegal
+offence, because the sale of tobacco is a government monopoly, but if
+you cannot break the laws in prison where can you break them? Others
+occupied themselves by making baskets or nets. But the majority did
+nothing at all, standing about, sitting when they could, with the
+eternal cigarette between their lips; and the more energetic watched the
+blue smoke curl into the air. Altogether a very happy family!</p>
+
+<p>Nor did they seem really very criminal, more especially as they wore no
+prison uniform, but their own clothes. I saw no difference between them
+and the people I met casually in the street. They were just very
+ordinary citizens, countrymen smelling of the soil, labouring men,
+artisans. Their misfortune had been only to make too free a use of their
+long curved knives or to be discovered taking something over which
+another had prior claims. But in Andalusia every one is potentially as
+criminal, which is the same as saying that these jail-birds were
+estimable persons whom an unkind fate and a mistaken idea of justice had
+separated for a little while from their wives and families.</p>
+
+<p>I saw two only whose aspect was distinctly vicious. One was a tall
+fellow with shifty eyes, a hard thin mouth, a cruel smile, and his face
+was really horrible. I asked the doctor why he was there. Don Felipe,
+without speaking, made the peculiar motion of the fingers which
+signifies robbery, and the man seeing him repeated it with a leer. I
+have seldom seen a face that was so utterly repellent, so depraved and
+wicked: I could not get it out of my head, and for a long time saw
+before me the crafty eyes and the grinning mouth. Obviously the man was
+a criminal born who would start thieving as soon as he was out of
+prison, hopelessly and utterly corrupt. But it was curious that his
+character should be marked so plainly on his face; it was a
+danger-signal to his fellows, and one would have thought the suspicion
+it aroused must necessarily keep him virtuous. It was a countenance that
+would make a man instinctively clap his hand to his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>The other was a Turk, a huge creature, with dark scowling face and
+prominent brows; he made a singular figure in his bright fez and baggy
+breeches, looking at his fellow prisoners with a frown of hate.</p>
+
+<p>But the doctor had finished seeing his patients and the iron door was
+opened for us to go out. We went upstairs to the hospital, a long bare
+ward, terribly cheerless. Six men, perhaps, lay in bed, guarded by two
+warders; one old fellow with rheumatism groaning in agony, two others
+dazed and very still, with high fever. We walked round quickly, don
+Felipe as before mechanically looking at their tongues and feeling their
+pulse, speaking a word to the assistant and moving on. The windows were
+shut and there was a horrid stench of illness and drugs and antiseptics.</p>
+
+<p>We went through long corridors to the female side, and meanwhile the
+assistant told the doctor that during the night a woman had been
+confined. Don Felipe sat down in an office to write a certificate.</p>
+
+<p>'What a nuisance these women are!' he said. 'Why can't they wait till
+they get out of prison? How is it?'</p>
+
+<p>'It was still-born.'</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Pero, hombre</i>,' said the doctor crossly. 'Why didn't you tell me that
+before? Now I shall have to write another certificate. This one's no
+good.'</p>
+
+<p>He tore it up and painfully made out a second with the slow laborious
+writing of a man unused to holding a pen.</p>
+
+<p>Then we marched on and came to another smaller <i>patio</i> where the females
+were. They were comparatively few, not more than twenty or thirty; and
+when we entered a dark inner-room to see the woman who was ill they all
+trooped in after us&mdash;all but one. They stood round eagerly telling us of
+the occurrence.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't make such a noise, <i>por Dios</i>! I can't hear myself speak,' said
+the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>The woman was lying on her back with flushed cheeks, her eyes staring
+glassily. The doctor asked a question, but she did not answer. She began
+to cry, sobbing from utter weakness in a silent, unrestrained way. On a
+table near her, hidden by a cloth, lay the dead child.</p>
+
+<p>We went out again into the <i>patio</i>. The sun was higher now and it was
+very warm, the blue sky shone above us without a cloud. The prisoners
+returned to their occupations. One old hag was doing a younger woman's
+hair; I noticed that even for Spain it was beautiful, very thick,
+curling, and black as night. The girl held a carnation in her hand to
+put in front of the comb when the operation was completed. Another woman
+suckled a baby, and several tiny children were playing about happily,
+while their mothers chatted to one another, knitting.</p>
+
+<p>But there was one, markedly different from the others, who sat alone
+taking no notice of the scene. It was she who remained in the <i>patio</i>
+when the rest followed us into the sick room, a gipsy, tall and gaunt,
+with a skin of the darkest yellow. Her hair was not elaborately arranged
+as that of her companions, but plainly done, drawn back stiffly from the
+forehead. She sat there, erect and motionless, looking at the ground
+with an unnatural stare, silent. They told me she never spoke a word
+nor paid attention to the women in the court. She might have been
+entirely alone. She never altered her position, but sat there,
+sphinx-like, in that attitude of stony grief. She was a stranger among
+the rest, and her bronzed face, her silence gave a weird impression; she
+seemed to recall the burning deserts of the East and an endless past.</p>
+
+<p>At last we came out, and the heavy iron door was closed behind us. What
+a relief it was to be in the street again, to see the sun and the trees,
+and to breathe the free air! A cart went by with a great racket, drawn
+by three mules, and the cries of the driver as he cracked his whip were
+almost musical; a train of donkeys passed; a man trotted by on a brown
+shaggy cob, his huge panniers filled with glowing vegetables, green and
+red, and in a corner was a great bunch of roses. I took long breaths of
+the free air, I shook myself to get rid of those prison odours.</p>
+
+<p>I offered don Felipe refreshment and we repaired to a dram-shop
+immediately opposite. Two women were standing there.</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Ole!</i>' said the doctor to an old toothless hag with a vicious leer.
+'What are you doing here? You've not been in for some time.'</p>
+
+<p>She laughed and explained that she was come to fetch her friend, a young
+woman, who had been released that morning. The doctor nodded to her,
+asking how long she had been in gaol.</p>
+
+<p>'Two years and nine months,' she said.</p>
+
+<p>And she began to laugh hysterically with tears streaming down her
+cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know what I'm doing,' she cried. 'I can't understand it.'</p>
+
+<p>She looked into the street with wild, yearning eyes; everything seemed
+to her strange and new.</p>
+
+<p>'I haven't seen a tree for nearly three years,' she sobbed.</p>
+
+<p>But the hag was pressing the doctor to drink with her; he accepted
+without much hesitation, and gallantly proposed her health.</p>
+
+<p>'What are you going to do?' he said to the younger woman, she was hardly
+more than a girl. 'You'd better not hang about in Seville or you'll get
+into trouble again.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh no,' she said, 'I'm going to my village&mdash;<i>mi pueblo</i>&mdash;this
+afternoon. I want to see my husband and my child.'</p>
+
+<p>Don Felipe turned to me and asked what I thought of the Seville prison.
+I made some complimentary reply.</p>
+
+<p>'Are English prisons like that?' he asked.</p>
+
+<p>I said I did not think so.</p>
+
+<p>'Are they better?'</p>
+
+<p>I shrugged my shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>'I'm told,' he said, 'that two years' hard labour in an English prison
+kills a man.'</p>
+
+<p>'The English are a great nation,' I replied.</p>
+
+<p>'And a humane one,' he added, with a bow and a smile.</p>
+
+<p>I bade him good-morning.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Before the Bull-fight</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">If</span> all Andalusians are potential gaol-birds they are also potential
+bull-fighters. It is impossible for foreigners to realise how firmly the
+love of that pastime is engrained in all classes. In other countries the
+gift that children love best is a box of soldiers, but in Spain it is a
+miniature ring with tin bulls, <i>picadors</i> on horseback and <i>toreros</i>.
+From their earliest youth boys play at bull-fighting, one of them taking
+the bull's part and charging with the movements peculiar to that animal,
+while the rest make passes with their coats or handkerchiefs. Often, to
+increase the excitement of the game, they have two horns fixed on a
+piece of wood. You will see them playing it at every street corner all
+day long, and no amusement can rival it; with the result that by the
+time a boy is fifteen he has acquired considerable skill in the
+exercise, and a favourite entertainment then is to hire a bull-calf for
+an afternoon and practise with it. Every urchin in Andalusia knows the
+names of the most prominent champions and can tell you their merits.</p>
+
+<p>The bull-fight is the national spectacle; it excites Spaniards as
+nothing else can, and the death of a famous <i>torero</i> is more tragic than
+the loss of a colony. Seville looks upon itself as the very home and
+centre of the art. The good king Ferdinand VII.&mdash;as precious a rascal as
+ever graced a throne&mdash;founded in Seville the first academy for the
+cultivation of tauromachy, and bull-fighters swagger through the Sierpes
+in great numbers and the most faultless costume.</p>
+
+<p>There are only five great bull-fights in a year at Seville, namely, on
+Easter day, on the three days of the fair, and on Corpus Christi. But
+during the summer <i>novilladas</i> are held every Sunday, with bulls of
+three years old and young fighters. Long before an important <i>corrida</i>
+there is quite an excitement in the town. Gaudy bills are posted on the
+walls with the names of the performers and the proprietor of the bulls;
+crowds stand round reading them breathlessly, discussing with one
+another the chances of the fray; the papers give details and forecasts
+as in England they do for the better cause of horse-racing! And the
+journeyings of the <i>matador</i> are announced as exactly as with us the
+doings of the nobility and gentry.</p>
+
+<p>The great <i>matador</i>, Mazzantini or Guerrita, arrives the day before the
+fight, and perhaps takes a walk in the Sierpes. People turn to look at
+him and acquaintances shake his hand, pleased that all the world may
+know how friendly they are with so great a man. The hero himself is calm
+and gracious. He feels himself a person of merit, and cannot be
+unconscious that he has a fortune of several million <i>pesetas</i> bringing
+in a reasonable interest. He talks with ease and assurance, often
+condescends to joke, and elegantly waves his hand, sparkling with
+diamonds of great value.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">Many persons have described a bull-fight, but generally their emotions
+have overwhelmed them so that they have seen only part of one
+performance, and consequently have been obliged to use an indignant
+imagination to help out a very faulty recollection. This is my excuse
+for giving one more account of an entertainment which can in no way be
+defended. It is doubtless vicious and degrading; but with the constant
+danger, the skill displayed, the courage, the hair-breadth escapes, the
+catastrophes, it is foolish to deny that any pastime can be more
+exciting.</p>
+
+<p>The English humanity to animals is one of the best traits of a great
+people, and they justly thank God they are not as others are. Can
+anything more horrid be imagined than to kill a horse in the bull-ring,
+and can any decent hack ask for a better end when he is broken down,
+than to be driven to death in London streets or to stand for hours on
+cab ranks in the rain and snow of an English winter? The Spaniards are
+certainly cruel to animals; on the other hand, they never beat their
+wives nor kick their children. From the dog's point of view I would ten
+times sooner be English, but from the woman's&mdash;I have my doubts. Some
+while ago certain papers, anxious perhaps to taste the comfortable joys
+of self-righteousness, turned their attention to the brutality of
+Spaniards, and a score of journalists wrote indignantly of bull-fights.
+At the same time, by a singular chance, a prize-fighter was killed in
+London, and the Spanish papers printed long tirades against the gross,
+barbaric English. The two sets of writers were equally vehement,
+inaccurate and flowery; but what seemed most remarkable was that each
+side evidently felt quite unaffected horror and disgust for the
+proceedings of the other. Like persons of doubtful character inveighing
+against the vices of the age, both were so carried away by moral
+enthusiasm as to forget that there was anything in their own histories
+which made this virtuous fury a little absurd. There is really a good
+deal in the point of view.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Corrida de Toros&mdash;I</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">On</span> the day before a bull-fight all the world goes down to Tablada to see
+the bulls. Youth and beauty drive, for every one in Seville of the least
+pretension to gentility keeps a carriage; the Sevillans,
+characteristically, may live in houses void of every necessity and
+comfort, eating bread and water, but they will have a carriage to drive
+in the <i>paseo</i>. You see vehicles of all kinds, from the new landau with
+a pair of magnificent Andalusian horses, or the strange omnibus drawn by
+mules, typical of Southern Spain, to the shabby victoria, with a
+broken-down hack and a decrepit coachman.</p>
+
+<p>Tablada is a vast common without the town, running along the river side,
+and here all manner of cattle are kept throughout the year. But the
+fighting bulls are brought from their respective farms the morning
+before the day of battle, and each is put in an enclosure with its
+attendant oxen. The crowd looks eagerly, admiring the length of horn,
+forecasting the fight.</p>
+
+<p>The handsome brutes remain there till midnight, when they are brought to
+the ring and shut in little separate boxes till the morrow. The
+<i>encierro</i>, as it is called, is an interesting sight. The road has been
+palisaded and the bulls are driven along by oxen. It is very curious to
+wait in the darkness, in the silence, under the myriad stars of the
+southern night. Your ear is astrung to hear the distant tramp; the
+waiting seems endless. A sound is heard and every one runs to the side;
+but nothing follows, and the waiting continues. Suddenly the stillness
+is broken by tinkling bells, the oxen; and immediately there is a tramp
+of rushing hoofs. Three men on horseback gallop through the entrance,
+and on their heels the cattle; the riders turn sharply round, a door is
+swung to behind them, and the oxen, with the bulls in their midst, pound
+through the ring.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">The doors are opened two hours before the performance. Through the
+morning the multitude has trooped to the Plaza San Fernando to buy
+tickets, and in the afternoon all Seville wends its way towards the
+ring. The road is thronged with people, they walk in dense crowds,
+pushing one another to get out of the way of broken-down shays that roll
+along filled with enthusiasts. The drivers crack their whips, shouting:
+'<i>Un real, un real a los Toros!</i>'<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">{a}</a> The sun beats down and the sky is
+intensely blue. It is very hot, already people are blowing and panting,
+boys sell fans at a halfpenny each. '<i>Abanicos a perra chica!</i>'<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">{b}</a></p>
+
+<p>When you come near the ring the din is tremendous; the many vendors
+shout their wares, middlemen offer tickets at double the usual price,
+friends call to one another. Now and then is a quarrel, a quick exchange
+of abuse as one pushes or treads upon his neighbour; but as a rule all
+are astonishingly good-natured. A man, after a narrow escape from being
+run over, will shout a joke to the driver, who is always ready with a
+repartee. And they surge on towards the entrance. Every one is expectant
+and thrilled, the very air seems to give a sense of exhilaration. The
+people crowd in like ants. All things are gay and full of colour and
+life.</p>
+
+<p>A <i>picador</i> passes on horseback in his uncouth clothes, and all turn to
+look at him.</p>
+
+<p>And in the ring itself the scene is marvellous. On one side the sun
+beats down with burning rays, and there, the seats being cheaper,
+notwithstanding the terrific heat people are closely packed. There is a
+perpetual irregular movement of thousands of women's fans fluttering to
+and fro. Opposite, in the shade, are nearly as many persons, but of
+better class. Above, in the boxes sit ladies in <i>mantillas</i>, and when a
+beautiful woman appears she is often greeted with a burst of applause,
+which she takes most unconcernedly. When at last the ring is full, tier
+above tier crammed so that not a place is vacant, it gives quite an
+extraordinary emotion. The serried masses cease then to be a collection
+of individuals, but gain somehow a corporate unity; you realise, with a
+kind of indeterminate fear, the many-headed beast of savage instincts
+and of ruthless might. No crowd is more picturesque than the Spanish,
+and the dark masculine costume vividly contrasts with the bright
+colours of the women, with flowers in their hair and <i>mantillas</i> of
+white lace.</p>
+
+<p>But also the tremendous vitality of it all strikes you. Late arrivals
+walk along looking for room, gesticulating, laughing, bandying jokes;
+vendors of all sorts cry out their goods: the men who sell prawns,
+shrimps, and crabs' claws from Cadiz pass with large baskets: '<i>Bocas,
+bocas!</i>'</p>
+
+<p>The water sellers with huge jars: '<i>Agua, quien quiere agua? Agua!</i>'<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">{c}</a>
+The word sings along the interminable rows. A man demands a glass and
+hands down a halfpenny; a mug of sparkling water is sent up to him. It
+is deliciously cool.</p>
+
+<p>The sellers of lottery tickets, offering as usual the first prize:
+'<i>Premio gordo, quien quiere el premio gordo</i>';<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">{d}</a> or yelling the number
+of the ticket: 'Who wants number seventeen hundred and eighty-five for
+three <i>pesetas</i>?'</p>
+
+<p>And the newsboys add to the din: '<i>Noticiero! Porvenir!</i>' Later on
+arrives the Madrid paper: '<i>Heraldo! Heraldo!</i>'</p>
+
+<p>Lastly the men with stacks of old journals to use as seats: '<i>A perra
+chica, dos periodicos a perra chica!</i>'<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">{e}</a></p>
+
+<p>Suddenly there is a great clapping of hands, and looking up you find the
+president has come; he is supported by two friends, and all three, with
+comic solemnity, wear tall hats and frock coats. They bow to the public.
+Bull-fighting is the only punctual thing in Spain, and the president
+arrives precisely as the clock strikes half-past four. He waves a
+handkerchief, the band strikes up, a door is opened, and the fighters
+enter. First come the three <i>matadors</i>, the eldest in the middle, the
+next on his right, and the youngest on the left; they are followed by
+their respective <i>cuadrillas</i>, the <i>banderilleros</i>, the <i>capeadors</i>, the
+<i>picadors</i> on horseback, and finally the <i>chulos</i>, whose duty it is to
+unsaddle dead horses, attach the slaughtered bull to the team of mules,
+and perform other minor offices. They advance, gorgeous in their
+coloured satin and gold embroidery, bearing a cloak peculiarly folded
+over the arm; they walk with a kind of swinging motion, as ordained by
+the convention of a century. They bow to the president, very solemnly.
+The applause is renewed. They retire to the side, three <i>picadors</i> take
+up their places at some distance from one another on the right of the
+door from which issues the bull. The <i>alguaciles</i>, in black velvet, with
+peaked and feathered hats, on horseback, come forward, and the key of
+the bull's den is thrown to them. They disappear. The fighters meanwhile
+exchange their satin cloaks for others of less value. There is another
+flourish of trumpets, the gates are opened for the bull.</p>
+
+<p>Then comes a moment of expectation, every one is trembling with
+excitement. There is perfect silence. All eyes are fixed on the open
+gate.</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><p>Notes:</p>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">{a}</span></a> 'Twopence-halfpenny to the Bulls.'</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">{b}</span></a> "Fans, one halfpenny each!"</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">{c}</span></a> 'Water, who wants water? Water!'</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">{d}</span></a> 'The first prize, who wants the first prize?'</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">{e}</span></a> 'One halfpenny, two papers for one halfpenny.'</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>XXV</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Corrida de Toros&mdash;II</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">One</span> or two shouts are heard, a murmur passes through the people, and the
+bull emerges&mdash;shining, black, with massive shoulders and fine horns. It
+advances a little, a splendid beast conscious of its strength, and
+suddenly stops dead, looking round. The <i>toreros</i> wave their capes and
+the <i>picadors</i> flourish their lances, long wooden spikes with an iron
+point. The bull catches sight of a horse, and lowering his head, bears
+down swiftly upon it. The <i>picador</i> takes firmer hold of his lance, and
+when the brute reaches him plants the pointed end between its shoulders;
+at the same moment the senior <i>matador</i> dashes forward and with his
+cloak distracts the bull's attention. It wheels round and charges; he
+makes a pass; it goes by almost under his arm, but quickly turns and
+again attacks. This time the skilful fighter receives it backwards,
+looking over his shoulder, and again it passes. There are shouts of
+enthusiasm from the public. The bull's glossy coat is stained with red.</p>
+
+<p>A second <i>picador</i> comes forward, and the bull charges again, but
+furiously now, exerting its full might. The horse is thrown to the
+ground and the rider, by an evil chance, falls at the bull's very feet.</p>
+
+<p>It cannot help seeing him and lowers its head; the people catch their
+breath; many spring instinctively to their feet; here and there is a
+woman's frightened cry; but immediately a <i>matador</i> draws the cape over
+its eyes and passionately the bull turns on him. Others spring forward
+and lift the <i>picador</i>: his trappings are so heavy that he cannot rise
+alone; he is dragged to safety and the steed brought back for him. One
+more horseman advances, and the bull with an angry snort bounds at him;
+the <i>picador</i> does his best, but is no match for the giant strength. The
+bull digs its horns deep into the horse's side and lifts man and beast
+right off the ground; they fall with a heavy thud, and as the raging
+brute is drawn off, blood spurts from the horse's flank. The <i>chulos</i>
+try to get it up; they drag on the reins with shouts and curses, and
+beat it with sticks. But the wretched creature, wounded to the death,
+helplessly lifts its head. They see it is useless and quickly remove
+saddle and bridle, a man comes with a short dagger called the
+<i>puntilla</i>, which he drives into its head, the horse falls on its side,
+a quiver passes through its body, and it is dead. The people are
+shouting with pleasure; the bull is a good one. The first <i>picador</i>
+comes up again and the bull attacks for the fourth time, but it has lost
+much strength, and the man drives it off. It has made a horrible gash in
+the horse's belly, and the entrails protrude, dragging along the ground.
+The horse is taken out.</p>
+
+<p>The president waves his handkerchief, the trumpets sound, and the first
+act of the drama is over.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>picadors</i> leave the ring and the <i>banderilleros</i> take their darts,
+about three feet long, gay with decorations of coloured paper. While
+they make ready, others play with the bull, gradually tiring it: one
+throws aside his cape and awaits the charge with folded arms; the bull
+rushes at him, and the man without moving his feet twists his body away
+and the savage brute passes on. There is a great burst of applause for a
+daring feat well done.</p>
+
+<p>Each <i>matador</i> has two <i>banderilleros</i>, and it is proper that three
+pairs of these darts should be placed. One of them steps to within
+speaking distance of the animal, and holding a <i>banderilla</i> in each hand
+lifted above his head, stamps his foot and shouts insulting words. The
+bull does not know what this new thing is, but charges blindly; at the
+same moment the man runs forward, and passing, plants the two darts
+between the shoulders. If they are well placed there is plentiful
+hand-clapping; no audience is so liberal of applause for skill or
+courage, none so intolerant of cowardice or stupidity; and with equal
+readiness it will yell with delight or hiss and hoot and whistle. The
+second <i>banderillero</i> comes forward to plant his pair; a third is
+inserted and the trumpets sound for the final scene.</p>
+
+<p>This is the great duel between the single man and the bull. The
+<i>matador</i> advances, sword in hand, with the <i>muleta</i>, the red cloth for
+the passes, over his arm. Under the president's box he takes off his
+hat, and with fine gesture makes a grandiloquent speech, wherein he vows
+either to conquer or to die: the harangue is finished with a wheel round
+and a dramatic flinging of his hat to attendants on the other side of
+the barrier. He pensively walks forward. All eyes are upon him&mdash;and he
+knows it. He motions his companions to stand back and goes close to the
+bull. He is quite alone, with his life in his hands&mdash;a slender figure,
+very handsome in the gorgeous costume glittering with fine gold. He
+arranges the <i>muleta</i> over a little stick, so that it hangs down like a
+flag and conceals his sword. Then quite solemnly he walks up to the
+bull, holding the red rag in his left hand. The bull watches
+suspiciously, suddenly charges, and the <i>muleta</i> is passed over its
+head; the <i>matador</i> does not move a muscle, the bull turns and stands
+quite motionless. Another charge, another pass. And so he continues,
+making seven or eight of various sorts, to the growing approbation of
+the public. At last it is time to kill. With great caution he withdraws
+the sword; the bull looks warily. He makes two or three passes more and
+walks round till he gets the animal into proper position: the forefeet
+must be set squarely on the ground. '<i>Ora! Ora!</i>' cry the people. 'Now!
+Now!' The bull is well placed. The <i>matador</i> draws the sword back a
+little and takes careful aim. The bull rushes, and at the same moment
+the man makes one bound forward and buries the sword to the hilt between
+the brute's shoulders. It falls to its knees and rolls over.</p>
+
+<p>Then is a perfect storm of applause; and it is worth while to see
+fourteen thousand people wild with delight. The band bursts into joyous
+strains, and the mules come galloping in, gaily caparisoned; a rope is
+passed round the dead beast, and they drag it away. The <i>matador</i>
+advances to the president's box and bows, while the shouting grows more
+frantic. He walks round, bowing and smiling, and the public in its
+enthusiasm throws down hats and cigars and sticks.</p>
+
+<p>But there are no intervals to a bull-fight, and the <i>picadors</i>
+immediately reappear and take their places; the doors are flung open,
+and a second bull rushes forth. The <i>matador</i> still goes round bowing to
+the applause, elaborately unmindful of the angry beast.</p>
+
+<p>Six animals are killed in an afternoon within two hours, and then the
+mighty audience troop out with flushed cheeks, the smell of blood strong
+in their nostrils.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>XXVI</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">On Horseback</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">I</span> had a desire to see something of the very heart of Andalusia, of that
+part of the country which had preserved its antique character, where
+railway trains were not, and the horse, the mule, the donkey were still
+the only means of transit. After much scrutiny of local maps and
+conversation with horse-dealers and others, I determined from Seville to
+go circuitously to Ecija, and thence return by another route as best I
+could. The district I meant to traverse in olden times was notorious for
+its brigands; even thirty years ago the prosperous tradesman, voyaging
+on his mule from town to town, was liable to be seized by unromantic
+outlaws and detained till his friends forwarded ransom, while ears and
+fingers were playfully sent to prove identity. In Southern Spain
+brigandage necessarily flourished, for not only were the country-folk in
+collusion with the bandits, but the very magistrates united with them to
+share the profits of lawless undertakings. Drastic measures were needful
+to put down the evil, and in a truly Spanish way drastic measures were
+employed. The Civil Guard, whose duty it was to see to the safety of the
+country side, had no confidence in the justice of Madrid, whither
+captured highwaymen were sent for trial; once there, for a few hundred
+dollars, the most murderous ruffian could prove his babe-like innocence,
+forthwith return to the scene of his former exploits and begin again. So
+they hit upon an expedient. The Civil Guards set out for the capital
+with their prisoner handcuffed between them; but, curiously enough, in
+every single case the brigand had scarcely marched a couple of miles
+before he incautiously tried to escape, whereupon he was, of course,
+promptly shot through the back. People noticed two things: first, that
+the clothes of the dead man were often singed, as if he had not escaped
+very far before he was shot down; that only proved his guardians' zeal.
+But the other was stranger: the two Civil Guards, when after a couple of
+hours they returned to the town, as though by a mysterious premonition
+they had known the bandit would make some rash attempt, invariably had
+waiting for them an excellent hot dinner.</p>
+
+<p>The only robber of importance who avoided such violent death was the
+chief of a celebrated band who, when captured, signed a declaration that
+he had not the remotest idea of escaping, and insisted on taking with
+him to Madrid his solicitor and a witness. He reached the capital alive,
+and having settled his little affairs with benevolent judges, turned to
+a different means of livelihood, and eventually, it is said, occupied a
+responsible post in the Government. It is satisfactory to think that his
+felonious talents were not in after-life entirely wasted.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">It was the beginning of March when I started. According to the old
+proverb, the dog was already seeking the shade: <i>En Marzo busca la
+sombra el perro</i>; the chilly Spaniard, loosening the folds of his
+<i>capa</i>, acknowledged that at mid-day in the sun it was almost warm. The
+winter rains appeared to have ceased; the sky over Seville was
+cloudless, not with the intense azure of midsummer, but with a blue that
+seemed mixed with silver. And in the sun the brown water of the
+Guadalquivir glittered like the scales on a fish's back, or like the
+burnished gold of old Moorish pottery.</p>
+
+<p>I set out in the morning early, with saddle-bags fixed on either side
+and poncho strapped to my pommel. A loaded revolver, though of course I
+never had a chance to use it, made me feel pleasantly adventurous. I
+walked cautiously over the slippery cobbles of the streets, disturbing
+the silence with the clatter of my horse's shoes. Now and then a mule or
+a donkey trotted by, with panniers full of vegetables, of charcoal or of
+bread, between which on the beast's neck sat perched a man in a short
+blouse. I came to the old rampart of the town, now a promenade; and at
+the gate groups of idlers, with cigarettes between their lips, stood
+talking.</p>
+
+<p>An hospitable friend had offered lodging for the night and food; after
+which, my ideas of the probable accommodation being vague, I expected to
+sleep upon straw, for victuals depending on the wayside inns. I arrived
+at the <i>Campo de la Cruz</i>, a tiny chapel which marks the same distance
+from the Cathedral as Jesus Christ walked to the Cross; it is the final
+boundary of Seville.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately afterwards I left the high-road, striking across country to
+Carmona. The land was already wild; on either side of the bridle-path
+were great wastes of sand covered only by palmetto. The air was cool and
+fresh, like the air of English country in June when it has rained
+through the night; and Aguador, snorting with pleasure, cantered over
+the uneven ground, nimbly avoiding holes and deep ruts with the
+sure-footedness of his Arab blood. An Andalusian horse cares nothing for
+the ground on which he goes, though it be hard and unyielding as iron;
+and he clambers up and down steep, rocky precipices as happily as he
+trots along a cinder-path.</p>
+
+<p>I passed a shepherd in a ragged cloak and a broad-brimmed hat, holding a
+crook. He stared at me, his flock of brown sheep clustered about him as
+I scampered by, and his dog rushed after, barking.</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Vaya Usted con Dios!</i>'</p>
+
+<p>I came to little woods of pine-trees, with long, thin trunks, and the
+foliage spreading umbrella-wise; round them circled innumerable hawks,
+whose nests I saw among the branches. Two ravens crossed my path, their
+wings heavily flapping.</p>
+
+<p>The great charm of the Andalusian country is that you seize romance, as
+it were, in the act. In northern lands it is only by a mental effort
+that you can realise the picturesque value of the life that surrounds
+you; and, for my part, I can perceive it only by putting it mentally in
+black and white, and reading it as though between the covers of a book.
+Once, I remember, in Brittany, in a distant corner of that rock-bound
+coast, I sat at midnight in a fisherman's cottage playing cards by the
+light of two tallow candles. Next door, with only a wall between us, a
+very old sailor lay dying in the great cupboard-bed which had belonged
+to his fathers before him; and he fought for life with the remains of
+that strenuous vigour with which in other years he had battled against
+the storms of the Atlantic. In the stillness of the night, the waves,
+with the murmur of a lullaby, washed gently upon the shingle, and the
+stars shone down from a clear sky. I looked at the yellow light on the
+faces of the players, gathered in that desolate spot from the four
+corners of the earth, and cried out: 'By Jove, this is romance!' I had
+never before caught that impression in the very making, and I was
+delighted with my good fortune.</p>
+
+<p>The answer came quickly from the American: 'Don't talk bosh! It's your
+deal.'</p>
+
+<p>But for all that it was romance, seized fugitively, and life at that
+moment threw itself into a decorative pattern fit to be remembered. It
+is the same effect which you get more constantly in Spain, so that the
+commonest things are transfigured into beauty. For in the cactus and the
+aloe and the broad fields of grain, in the mules with their wide
+panniers and the peasants, in the shepherds' huts and the straggling
+farm-houses, the romantic is there, needing no subtlety to be
+discovered; and the least imaginative may feel a certain thrill when he
+understands that the life he leads is not without its æsthetic meaning.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">I rode for a long way in complete solitude, through many miles of this
+sandy desert. Then the country changed, and olive-groves in endless
+succession followed one another, the trees with curiously decorative
+effect were planted in long, even lines. The earth was a vivid red,
+contrasting with the blue sky and the sombre olives, gnarled and
+fantastically twisted, like evil spirits metamorphosed: in places they
+had sown corn, and the young green enhanced the shrill diversity of
+colour. With its clear, brilliant outlines and its lack of shadow, the
+scene reminded one of a prim pattern, such as in Jane Austen's day young
+gentlewomen worked in worsted. Sometimes I saw women among the trees,
+perched like monkeys on the branches, or standing below with large
+baskets; they were extraordinarily quaint in the trousers which modesty
+bade them wear for the concealment of their limbs when olive-picking.
+The costume was so masculine, their faces so red and weather-beaten,
+that the yellow handkerchief on their heads was really the only means of
+distinguishing their sex.</p>
+
+<p>But the path became more precipitous, hewn from the sandstone, and so
+polished by the numberless shoes of donkeys and of mules that I hardly
+dared walk upon it; and suddenly I saw Carmona in front of me&mdash;quite
+close.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>XXVII</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">By the Road&mdash;I</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">The</span> approach to Carmona is a very broad, white street, much too wide for
+the cottages which line it, deserted; and the young trees planted on
+either side are too small to give shade. The sun beat down with a fierce
+glare and the dust rose in clouds as I passed. Presently I came to a
+great Moorish gateway, a dark mass of stone, battlemented, with a lofty
+horseshoe arch. People were gathered about it in many-coloured groups, I
+found it was a holiday in Carmona, and the animation was unwonted; in a
+corner stood the hut of the <i>Consumo</i>, and the men advanced to examine
+my saddle-bags. I passed through, into the town, looking right and left
+for a <i>parador</i>, an hostelry whereat to leave my horse. I bargained for
+the price of food and saw Aguador comfortably stalled; then made my way
+to the Nekropolis where lived my host. There are many churches in
+Carmona, and into one of these I entered; it had nothing of great
+interest, but to a certain degree it was rich, rich in its gilded
+woodwork and in the brocade that adorned the pillars; and I felt that
+these Spanish churches lent a certain dignity to life: for all the
+careless flippancy of Andalusia they still remained to strike a nobler
+note. I forgot willingly that the land was priest-ridden and
+superstitious, so that a Spaniard could tell me bitterly that there were
+but two professions open to his countrymen, the priesthood and the
+bull-ring. It was pleasant to rest in that cool and fragrant darkness.</p>
+
+<p>My host was an archæologist, and we ate surrounded by broken
+earthenware, fragmentary mosaics, and grinning skulls. It was curious
+afterwards to wander in the graveyard which, with indefatigable zeal, he
+had excavated, among the tombs of forgotten races, letting oneself down
+to explore the subterranean cells. The paths he had made in the giant
+cemetery were lined with a vast number of square sandstone boxes which
+had contained human ashes; and now, when the lid was lifted, a green
+lizard or a scorpion darted out. From the hill I saw stretched before me
+the great valley of the Guadalquivir: with the squares of olive and of
+ploughed field, and the various greens of the corn, it was like a vast,
+multi-coloured carpet. But later, with the sunset, black clouds arose,
+splendidly piled upon one another; and the twilight air was chill and
+grey. A certain sternness came over the olive-groves, and they might
+well have served as a reproach to the facile Andaluz; for their cold
+passionless green seemed to offer a warning to his folly.</p>
+
+<p>At night my host left me to sleep in the village, and I lay in bed alone
+in the little house among the tombs; it was very silent. The wind sprang
+up and blew about me, whistling through the windows, whistling weirdly;
+and I felt as though the multitudes that had been buried in that old
+cemetery filled the air with their serried numbers, a vast, silent
+congregation waiting motionless for they knew not what. I recalled a
+gruesome fact that my friend had told me: not far from there, in tombs
+that he had disinterred the skeletons lay huddled spasmodically, with
+broken skulls and a great stone by the side; for when a man, he said,
+lay sick unto death, his people took him, and placed him in his grave,
+and with the stone killed him.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">In the morning I set out again. It was five-and-thirty miles to Ecija,
+but a new high road stretched from place to place and I expected easy
+riding. Carmona stands on the top of a precipitous hill, round which
+winds the beginning of the road; below, after many zigzags, I saw its
+continuation, a straight white line reaching as far as I could see. In
+Andalusia, till a few years ago, there were practically no high roads,
+and even now they are few and bad. The chief communication from town to
+town is usually an uneven track, which none attempts to keep up, with
+deep ruts, and palmetto growing on either side, and occasional pools of
+water. A day's rain makes it a quagmire, impassable for anything beside
+the sure-footed mule.</p>
+
+<p>I went on, meeting now and then a string of asses, their panniers filled
+with stones or with wood for Carmona; the drivers sat on the rump of the
+hindmost animal, for that is the only comfortable way to ride a donkey.
+A peasant trotted briskly by on his mule, his wife behind him with her
+arms about his waist. I saw a row of ploughs in a field; to each were
+attached two oxen, and they went along heavily, one behind the other in
+regular line. By the side of every pair a man walked bearing a long
+goad, and one of them sang a <i>Malagueña</i>, its monotonous notes rising
+and falling slowly. From time to time I passed a white farm, a little
+way from the road, invitingly cool in the heat; the sun began to beat
+down fiercely. The inevitable storks were perched on a chimney, by their
+big nest; and when they flew in front of me, with their broad white
+wings and their red legs against the blue sky, they gave a quaint
+impression of a Japanese screen.</p>
+
+<p>A farmhouse such as this seems to me always a type of the Spanish
+impenetrability. I have been over many of them, and know the manner of
+their rooms and the furniture, the round of duties there performed and
+how the day is portioned out; but the real life of the inhabitants
+escapes me. My knowledge is merely external. I am conscious that it is
+the same of the Andalusians generally, and am dismayed because I know
+practically nothing more after a good many years than I learnt in the
+first months of my acquaintance with them. Below the superficial
+similarity with the rest of Europe which of late they have acquired,
+there is a difference which makes it impossible to get at the bottom of
+their hearts. They have no openness as have the French and the Italians,
+with whom a good deal of intimacy is possible even to an Englishman, but
+on the contrary an Eastern reserve which continually baffles me. I
+cannot realise their thoughts nor their outlook. I feel always below the
+grace of their behaviour the instinctive, primeval hatred of the
+stranger.</p>
+
+<p>Gradually the cultivation ceased, and I saw no further sign of human
+beings. I returned to the desert of the previous day, but the land was
+more dreary. The little groves of pine-trees had disappeared, there were
+no olives, no cornfields, not even the aloe nor the wilder cactus; but
+on either side as far as the horizon, desert wastes, littered with
+stones and with rough boulders, grown over only by palmetto. For many
+miles I went, dismounting now and then to stretch my legs and sauntering
+a while with the reins over my shoulder. Towards mid-day I rested by the
+wayside and let Aguador eat what grass he could.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, continuing my journey, I caught sight of a little hovel where
+the fir-branch over the door told me wine was to be obtained. I fastened
+my horse to a ring in the wall, and, going in, found an aged crone who
+gave me a glass of that thin white wine, produce of the last year's
+vintage, which is called <i>Vino de la Hoja</i>, wine of the leaf; she looked
+at me incuriously as though she saw so many people and they were so much
+alike that none repaid particular scrutiny. I tried to talk with her,
+for it seemed a curious life that she must lead, alone in that hut many
+miles from the nearest hamlet, with never a house in sight; but she was
+taciturn and eyed me now with something like suspicion. I asked for
+food, but with a sullen frown she answered that she had none to spare. I
+inquired the distance to Luisiana, a village on the way to Ecija where
+I had proposed to lunch, and shrugging her shoulders, she replied: 'How
+should I know!' I was about to go when I heard a great clattering, and a
+horseman galloped up. He dismounted and walked in, a fine example of the
+Andalusian countryman, handsome and tall, well-shaved, with
+close-cropped hair. He wore elaborately decorated gaiters, the usual
+short, close-fitting jacket, and a broad-brimmed hat; in his belt were a
+knife and a revolver, and slung across his back a long gun. He would
+have made an admirable brigand of comic-opera; but was in point of fact
+a farmer riding, as he told me, to see his <i>novia</i>, or lady-love, at a
+neighbouring farm.</p>
+
+<p>I found him more communicative and in the politest fashion we discussed
+the weather and the crops. He had been to Seville.</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Che maravilla!</i>' he cried, waving his fine, strong hands. 'What a
+marvel! But I cannot bear the town-folk. What thieves and liars!'</p>
+
+<p>'Town-folk should stick to the towns,' muttered the old woman, looking
+at me somewhat pointedly.</p>
+
+<p>The remark drew the farmer's attention more closely to me.</p>
+
+<p>'And what are you doing here?' he asked.</p>
+
+<p>'Riding to Ecija.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah, you're a commercial traveller,' he cried, with fine scorn. 'You
+foreigners bleed the country of all its money. You and the government!'</p>
+
+<p>'Rogues and vagabonds!' muttered the old woman.</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding, the farmer with much condescension accepted one of my
+cigars, and made me drink with him a glass of <i>aguardiente</i>.</p>
+
+<p>We went off together. The mare he rode was really magnificent, rather
+large, holding her head beautifully, with a tail that almost swept the
+ground. She carried as if it were nothing the heavy Spanish saddle,
+covered with a white sheep-skin, its high triangular pommel of polished
+wood. Our ways, however, quickly diverged. I inquired again how far it
+was to the nearest village.</p>
+
+<p>'Eh!' said the farmer, with a vague gesture. 'Two leagues. Three
+leagues. <i>Quien sabe?</i> Who knows? <i>Adios!</i>'</p>
+
+<p>He put the spurs to his mare and galloped down a bridle-track. I, whom
+no fair maiden awaited, trotted on soberly.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>XXVIII</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">By the Road&mdash;II</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">The</span> endless desert grew rocky and less sandy, the colours duller. Even
+the palmetto found scanty sustenance, and huge boulders, strewn as
+though some vast torrent had passed through the plain, alone broke the
+desolate flatness. The dusty road pursued its way, invariably straight,
+neither turning to one side nor to the other, but continually in front
+of me, a long white line.</p>
+
+<p>Finally in the distance I saw a group of white buildings and a cluster
+of trees. I thought it was Luisiana, but Luisiana, they had said, was a
+populous hamlet, and here were only two or three houses and not a soul.
+I rode up and found among the trees a tall white church, and a pool of
+murky water, further back a low, new edifice, which was evidently a
+monastery, and a <i>posada</i>. Presently a Franciscan monk in his brown cowl
+came out of the church, and he told me that Luisiana was a full league
+off, but that food could be obtained at the neighbouring inn.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>posada</i> was merely a long barn, with an open roof of wood, on one
+side of which were half a dozen mangers and in a corner two mules.
+Against another wall were rough benches for travellers to sleep on. I
+dismounted and walked to the huge fireplace at one end, where I saw
+three very old women seated like witches round a <i>brasero</i>, the great
+brass dish of burning cinders. With true Spanish stolidity they did not
+rise as I approached, but waited for me to speak, looking at me
+indifferently. I asked whether I could have anything to eat.</p>
+
+<p>'Fried eggs.'</p>
+
+<p>'Anything else?'</p>
+
+<p>The hostess, a tall creature, haggard and grim, shrugged her shoulders.
+Her jaws were toothless, and when she spoke it was difficult to
+understand. I tied Aguador to a manger and took off his saddle. The old
+women stirred themselves at last, and one brought a portion of chopped
+straw and a little barley. Another with the bellows blew on the cinders,
+and the third, taking eggs from a basket, fried them on the <i>brasero</i>.
+Besides, they gave me coarse brown bread and red wine, which was coarser
+still; for dessert the hostess went to the door and from a neighbouring
+tree plucked oranges.</p>
+
+<p>When I had finished&mdash;it was not a very substantial meal&mdash;I drew my chair
+to the <i>brasero</i> and handed round my cigarette-case. The old women
+helped themselves, and a smile of thanks made the face of my gaunt
+hostess somewhat less repellent. We smoked a while in silence.</p>
+
+<p>'Are you all alone here?' I asked, at length.</p>
+
+<p>The hostess made a movement of her head towards the country. 'My son is
+out shooting,' she said, 'and two others are in Cuba, fighting the
+rebels.'</p>
+
+<p>'God protect them!' muttered another.</p>
+
+<p>'All our sons go to Cuba now,' said the first. 'Oh, I don't blame the
+Cubans, but the government.'</p>
+
+<p>An angry light filled her eyes, and she lifted her clenched hand,
+cursing the rulers at Madrid who took her children. 'They're robbers and
+fools. Why can't they let Cuba go? It isn't worth the money we pay in
+taxes.'</p>
+
+<p>She spoke so vehemently, mumbling the words between her toothless gums,
+that I could scarcely make them out.</p>
+
+<p>'In Madrid they don't care if the country goes to rack and ruin so long
+as they fill their purses. Listen.' She put one hand on my arm. 'My boy
+came back with fever and dysentery. He was ill for months&mdash;at death's
+door&mdash;and I nursed him day and night. And almost before he could walk
+they sent him out again to that accursed country.'</p>
+
+<p>The tears rolled heavily down her wrinkled cheeks.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">Luisiana is a curious place. It was a colony formed by Charles III. of
+Spain with Germans whom he brought to people the desolate land; and I
+fancied the Teuton ancestry was apparent in the smaller civility of the
+inhabitants. They looked sullenly as I passed, and none gave the
+friendly Andalusian greeting. I saw a woman hanging clothes on the line
+outside her house; she had blue eyes and flaxen hair, a healthy red
+face, and a solidity of build which proved the purity of her northern
+blood. The houses, too, had a certain exotic quaintness; notwithstanding
+the universal whitewash of the South, there was about them still a
+northern character. They were prim and regularly built, with little
+plots of garden; the fences and the shutters were bright green. I almost
+expected to see German words on the post-office and on the tobacco-shop,
+and the grandiloquent Spanish seemed out of place; I thought the Spanish
+clothes of the men sat upon them uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>The day was drawing to a close and I pushed on to reach Ecija before
+night, but Aguador was tired and I was obliged mostly to walk. Now the
+highway turned and twisted among little hills and it was a strange
+relief to leave the dead level of the plains: on each side the land was
+barren and desolate, and in the distance were dark mountains. The sky
+had clouded over, and the evening was grey and very cold; the solitude
+was awful. At last I overtook a pedlar plodding along by his donkey, the
+panniers filled to overflowing with china and glass, which he was taking
+to sell in Ecija. He wished to talk, but he was going too slowly, and I
+left him. I had hills to climb now, and at the top of each expected to
+see the town, but every time was disappointed. The traces of man
+surrounded me at last; again I rode among olive-groves and cornfields;
+the highway now was bordered with straggling aloes and with hedges of
+cactus.</p>
+
+<p>At last! I reached the brink of another hill, and then, absolutely at my
+feet, so that I could have thrown a stone on its roofs, lay Ecija with
+its numberless steeples.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>XXIX</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Ecija</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">The</span> central square, where are the government offices, the taverns, and a
+little inn, is a charming place, quiet and lackadaisical, its pale
+browns and greys very restful in the twilight, and harmonious. The
+houses with their queer windows and their balconies of wrought iron are
+built upon arcades which give a pleasant feeling of intimacy: in summer,
+cool and dark, they must be the promenade of all the gossips and the
+loungers. One can imagine the uneventful life, the monotonous round of
+existence; and yet the Andalusian blood runs in the people's veins. To
+my writer's fantasy Ecija seemed a fit background for some tragic story
+of passion or of crime.</p>
+
+<p>I dined, unromantically enough, with a pair of commercial travellers, a
+post-office clerk, and two stout, elderly men who appeared to be retired
+officers. Spanish victuals are terrible and strange; food is even more
+an affair of birth than religion, since a man may change his faith, but
+hardly his manner of eating: the stomach used to roast meat and
+Yorkshire pudding rebels against Eastern cookery, and a Christian may
+sooner become a Buddhist than a beef-eater a guzzler of <i>olla podrida</i>.
+The Spaniards without weariness eat the same dinner day after day, year
+in, year out: it is always the same white, thin, oily soup; a dish of
+haricot beans and maize swimming in a revolting sauce; a nameless
+<i>entrée</i> fried in oil&mdash;Andalusians have a passion for other animals'
+insides; a thin steak, tough as leather and grilled to utter dryness;
+raisins and oranges. You rise from table feeling that you have been
+soaked in rancid oil.</p>
+
+<p>My table-companions were disposed to be sociable. The travellers desired
+to know whether I was there to sell anything, and one drew from his
+pocket, for my inspection, a case of watch-chains. The officers surmised
+that I had come from Gibraltar to spy the land, and to terrify me, spoke
+of the invincible strength of the Spanish forces.</p>
+
+<p>'Are you aware,' said the elder, whose adiposity prevented his outward
+appearance from corresponding with his warlike heart, 'Are you aware
+that in the course of history our army has never once been defeated, and
+our fleet but twice?'</p>
+
+<p>He mentioned the catastrophes, but I had never heard of them; and
+Trafalgar was certainly not included. I hazarded a discreet inquiry,
+whereupon, with much emphasis, both explained how on that occasion the
+Spanish had soundly thrashed old Nelson, although he had discomfited the
+French.</p>
+
+<p>'It is odd,' I observed, 'that British historians should be so
+inaccurate.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is discreditable,' retorted my acquaintance, with a certain
+severity.</p>
+
+<p>'How long did the English take to conquer the Soudan?' remarked the
+other, somewhat aggressively picking his teeth. 'Twenty years? We
+conquered Morocco in three months.'</p>
+
+<p>'And the Moors are devils,' said the commercial traveller. 'I know,
+because I once went to Tangiers for my firm.'</p>
+
+<p>After dinner I wandered about the streets, past the great old houses of
+the nobles in the <i>Calle de los Caballeros</i>, empty now and dilapidated,
+for every gentleman that can put a penny in his pocket goes to Madrid to
+spend it; down to the river which flowed swiftly between high banks.
+Below the bridge two Moorish mills, irregular masses of blackness, stood
+finely against the night. Near at hand they were still working at a
+forge, and I watched the flying sparks as the smith hammered a
+horseshoe; the workers were like silhouettes in front of the leaping
+flames.</p>
+
+<p>At many windows, to my envy, couples were philandering; the night was
+cold and Corydon stood huddled in his cape. But the murmuring as I
+passed was like the flow of a rapid brook, and I imagined, I am sure,
+far more passionate and romantic speeches than ever the lovers made. I
+might have uttered them to the moon, but I should have felt ridiculous,
+and it was more practical to jot them down afterwards in a note-book. In
+some of the surrounding villages they have so far preserved the Moorish
+style as to have no windows within reach of the ground, and lovers then
+must take advantage of the aperture at the bottom of the door made for
+the domestic cat's particular convenience. Stretched full length on the
+ground, on opposite sides of the impenetrable barrier, they can still
+whisper amorous commonplaces to one another. But imagine the confusion
+of a polite Spaniard, on a dark night, stumbling over a recumbent swain:</p>
+
+<p>'My dear sir, I beg your pardon. I had no idea....'</p>
+
+<p>In old days the disturbance would have been sufficient cause for a duel,
+but now manners are more peaceful: the gallant, turning a little,
+removes his hat and politely answers:</p>
+
+<p>'It is of no consequence. <i>Vaya Usted con Dios!</i>'</p>
+
+<p>'Good-night!'</p>
+
+<p>The intruder passes and the beau endeavours passionately to catch sight
+of his mistress' black eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">Next day was Sunday, and I walked by the river till I found a plot of
+grass sheltered from the wind by a bristly hedge of cactus. I lay down
+in the sun, lazily watching two oxen that ploughed a neighbouring field.</p>
+
+<p>I felt it my duty in the morning to buy a chap-book relating the
+adventures of the famous brigands who were called the Seven Children of
+Ecija; and this, somewhat sleepily, I began to read. It required a
+byronic stomach, for the very first chapter led me to a monastery where
+mass proceeded in memory of some victim of undiscovered crime. Seven
+handsome men appeared, most splendidly arrayed, but armed to the teeth;
+each one was every inch a brigand, pitiless yet great of heart,
+saturnine yet gentlemanly; and their peculiarity was that though six
+were killed one day seven would invariably be seen the next. The most
+gorgeously apparelled of them all, entering the sacristy, flung a purse
+of gold to the Superior, while a scalding tear coursed down his sunburnt
+cheek; and this he dried with a noble gesture and a richly embroidered
+handkerchief! In a whirlwind of romantic properties I read of a wicked
+miser who refused to support his brother's widow, of the widow herself,
+(brought at birth to a gardener in the dead of night by a mysterious
+mulatto,) and of this lady's lovely offspring. My own feelings can never
+be harrowed on behalf of a widow with a marriageable daughter, but I am
+aware that habitual readers of romance, like ostriches, will swallow
+anything. I was hurried to a subterranean chamber where the Seven
+Children, in still more elaborate garments, performed various dark
+deeds, smoked expensive Havanas, and seated on silken cushions, partook
+(like Freemasons) of a succulent cold collation.</p>
+
+<p>The sun shone down with comfortable warmth, and I stretched my legs. My
+pipe was out and I refilled it. A meditative snail crawled up and
+observed me with flattering interest.</p>
+
+<p>I grew somewhat confused. A stolen will was of course inevitable, and so
+were prison dungeons; but the characters had an irritating trick of
+revealing at critical moments that they were long-lost relatives. It
+must have been a tedious age when poor relations were never safely
+buried. However, youth and beauty were at last triumphant and villainy
+confounded, virtue was crowned with orange blossom and vice died a
+miserable death. Rejoicing in duty performed I went to sleep.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a>XXX</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Wind and Storm</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">But</span> next morning the sky was dark with clouds; people looked up
+dubiously when I asked the way and distance to Marchena, prophesying
+rain. Fetching my horse, the owner of the stable robbed me with peculiar
+callousness, for he had bound my hands the day before, when I went to
+see how Aguador was treated, by giving me with most courteous ceremony a
+glass of <i>aguardiente</i>; and his urbanity was then so captivating that
+now I lacked assurance to protest. I paid the scandalous overcharge with
+a good grace, finding some solace in the reflection that he was at least
+a picturesque blackguard, tall and spare, grey-headed, with fine
+features sharpened by age to the strongest lines; for I am always
+grateful to the dishonest when they add a certain æsthetic charm to
+their crooked ways. There is a proverb which says that in Ecija every
+man is a thief and every woman&mdash;no better than she should be: I was not
+disinclined to believe it.</p>
+
+<p>I set out, guided by a sign-post, and the good road seemed to promise an
+easy day. They had told me that the distance was only six leagues, and I
+expected to arrive before luncheon. Aguador, fresh after his day's rest,
+broke into a canter when I put him on the green plot, which the old
+Spanish law orders to be left for cattle by the side of the highway. But
+after three miles, without warning, the road suddenly stopped. I found
+myself in an olive-grove, with only a narrow path in front of me. It
+looked doubtful, but there was no one in sight and I wandered on,
+trusting to luck.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, in a clearing, I caught sight of three men on donkeys,
+walking slowly one after the other, and I galloped after to ask my way.
+The beasts were laden with undressed skins which they were taking to
+Fuentes, and each man squatted cross-legged on the top of his load. The
+hindermost turned right round when I asked my question and sat
+unconcernedly with his back to the donkey's head. He looked about him
+vaguely as though expecting the information I sought to be written on
+the trunk of an olive-tree, and scratched his head.</p>
+
+<p>'Well,' he said, 'I should think it was a matter of seven leagues, but
+it will rain before you get there.'</p>
+
+<p>'This is the right way, isn't it?'</p>
+
+<p>'It may be. If it doesn't lead to Marchena it must lead somewhere else.'</p>
+
+<p>There was a philosophic ring about the answer which made up for the
+uncertainty. The skinner was a fat, good-humoured creature, like all
+Spaniards intensely curious; and to prepare the way for inquiries,
+offered a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>'But why do you come to Ecija by so roundabout a way as Carmona, and why
+should you return to Seville by such a route as Marchena?'</p>
+
+<p>His opinion was evidently that the shortest way between two places was
+also the best. He received my explanation with incredulity and asked,
+more insistently, why I went to Ecija on horseback when I might go by
+train to Madrid.</p>
+
+<p>'For pleasure,' said I.</p>
+
+<p>'My good sir, you must have come on some errand.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh yes,' I answered, hoping to satisfy him, 'on the search for
+emotion.'</p>
+
+<p>At this he bellowed with laughter and turned round to tell his fellows.</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Usted es muy guason</i>,' he said at length, which may be translated:
+'You're a mighty funny fellow.'</p>
+
+<p>I expressed my pleasure at having provided the skinners with amusement
+and bidding them farewell, trotted on.</p>
+
+<p>I went for a long time among the interminable olives, grey and sad
+beneath the sullen clouds, and at last the rain began to fall. I saw a
+farm not very far away and cantered up to ask for shelter. An old woman
+and a labourer came to the door and looked at me very doubtfully; they
+said it was not a <i>posada</i>, but my soft words turned their hearts and
+they allowed me to come in. The rain poured down in heavy, oblique
+lines.</p>
+
+<p>The labourer took Aguador to the stable and I went into the parlour, a
+long, low, airy chamber like the refectory of a monastery, with windows
+reaching to the ground. Two girls were sitting round the <i>brasero</i>,
+sewing; they offered me a chair by their side, and as the rain fell
+steadily we began to talk. The old woman discreetly remained away. They
+asked about my journey, and as is the Spanish mode, about my country,
+myself, and my belongings. It was a regular volley of questions I had to
+answer, but they sounded pleasanter in the mouth of a pretty girl than
+in that of an obese old skinner; and the rippling laughter which greeted
+my replies made me feel quite witty. When they smiled they showed the
+whitest teeth. Then came my turn for questioning. The girl on my right,
+prettier than her sister, was very Spanish, with black, expressive eyes,
+an olive skin, and a bunch of violets in her abundant hair. I asked
+whether she had a <i>novio</i>, or lover; and the question set her laughing
+immoderately. What was her name? 'Soledad&mdash;Solitude.'</p>
+
+<p>I looked somewhat anxiously at the weather, I feared the shower would
+cease, and in a minute, alas! the rain passed away; and I was forced to
+notice it, for the sun-rays came dancing through the window,
+importunately, making patterns of light upon the floor. I had no further
+excuse to stay, and said good-bye; but I begged for the bunch of violets
+in Soledad's dark hair and she gave it with a pretty smile. I plunged
+again into the endless olive-groves.</p>
+
+<p>It was a little strange, the momentary irruption into other people's
+lives, the friendly gossip with persons of a different tongue and
+country, whom I had never seen before, whom I should never see again;
+and were I not strictly truthful I might here lighten my narrative by
+the invention of a charming and romantic adventure. But if chance brings
+us often for a moment into other existences, it takes us out with equal
+suddenness so that we scarcely know whether they were real or mere
+imaginings of an idle hour: the Fates have a passion for the unfinished
+sketch and seldom trouble to unravel the threads which they have so
+laboriously entangled. The little scene brought another to my mind. When
+I was 'on accident duty' at St. Thomas's Hospital a man brought his son
+with a broken leg; it was hard luck on the little chap, for he was
+seated peacefully on the ground when another boy, climbing a wall, fell
+on him and did the damage. When I returned him, duly bandaged, to his
+father's arms, the child bent forward and put out his lips for a kiss,
+saying good-night with babyish pronunciation. The father and the
+attendant nurse laughed, and I, being young, was confused and blushed
+profusely. They went away and somehow or other I never saw them again. I
+wonder if the pretty child, (he must be eight or ten now,) remembers
+kissing a very weary medical student, who had not slept much for several
+days, and was dead tired. Probably he has quite forgotten that he ever
+broke his leg. And I suppose no recollection remains with the pretty
+girl in the farm of a foreigner riding mysteriously through the
+olive-groves, to whom she gave shelter and a bunch of violets.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">I came at last to the end of the trees and found then that a mighty wind
+had risen, which blew straight in my teeth. It was hard work to ride
+against it, but I saw a white town in the distance, on a hill; and made
+for it, rejoicing in the prospect. Presently I met some men shooting,
+and to make sure, asked whether the houses I saw really were Marchena.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh no,' said one. 'You've come quite out of the way. That is Fuentes.
+Marchena is over there, beyond the hill.'</p>
+
+<p>My heart sank, for I was growing very hungry, and I asked whether I
+could not get shelter at Fuentes. They shrugged their shoulders and
+advised me to go to Marchena, which had a small inn. I went on for
+several hours, battling against the wind, bent down in order to expose
+myself as little as possible, over a huge expanse of pasture land, a
+desert of green. I reached the crest of the hill, but there was no sign
+of Marchena, unless that was a tower which I saw very far away, its
+summit just rising above the horizon.</p>
+
+<p>I was ravenous. My saddle-bags contained spaces for a bottle and for
+food; and I cursed my folly in stuffing them with such useless
+refinements of civilisation as hair-brushes and soap. It is possible
+that one could allay the pangs of hunger with soap; but under no
+imaginable circumstances with hair-brushes.</p>
+
+<p>It was a tower in the distance, but it seemed to grow neither nearer nor
+larger; the wind blew without pity, and miserably Aguador tramped on. I
+no longer felt very hungry, but dreadfully bored. In that waste of
+greenery the only living things beside myself were a troop of swallows
+that had accompanied me for miles. They flew close to the ground, in
+front of me, circling round; and the wind was so high that they could
+scarcely advance against it.</p>
+
+<p>I remembered the skinner's question, why I rode through the country when
+I could go by train. I thought of the <i>Cheshire Cheese</i> in Fleet Street,
+where persons more fortunate than I had that day eaten hearty luncheons.
+I imagined to myself a well-grilled steak with boiled potatoes, and a
+pint of old ale, Stilton! The smoke rose to my nostrils.</p>
+
+<p>But at last, the Saints be praised! I found a real bridle-path, signs of
+civilisation, ploughed fields; and I came in sight of Marchena perched
+on a hill-top, surrounded by its walls. When I arrived the sun was
+setting finely behind the town.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXXI" id="XXXI"></a>XXXI</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Two Villages</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">Marchena</span> was all white, and on the cold windy evening I spent there,
+deserted of inhabitants. Quite rarely a man sidled past wrapped to the
+eyes in his cloak, or a woman with a black shawl over her head. I saw in
+the town nothing characteristic but the wicker-work frame in front of
+each window, so that people within could not possibly be seen; it was
+evidently a Moorish survival. At night men came into the eating-room of
+the inn, ate their dinner silently, and muffling themselves, quickly
+went out; the cold seemed to have killed all life in them. I slept in a
+little windowless cellar, on a straw bed which was somewhat verminous.</p>
+
+<p>But next morning, as I looked back, the view of Marchena was charming.
+It stood on the crest of a green hill, surrounded by old battlements,
+and the sun shone down upon it. The wind had fallen, and in the early
+hour the air was pleasant and balmy. There was no road whatever, not
+even a bridle-track this time, and I made straight for Seville. I
+proposed to rest my horse and lunch at Mairena. On one side was a great
+plain of young corn stretching to the horizon, and on the other, with
+the same mantle of green, little hills, round which I slowly wound. The
+sun gave all manner of varied tints to the verdure&mdash;sometimes it was
+all emerald and gold, and at others it was like dark green velvet.</p>
+
+<p>But the clouds in the direction of Seville were very black, and coming
+nearer I saw that it rained upon the hills. The water fell on the earth
+like a transparent sheet of grey. Soon I felt an occasional drop, and I
+put on my <i>poncho</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The rain began in earnest, no northern drizzle, but a streaming downpour
+that soaked me to the skin. The path became marsh-like, and Aguador
+splashed along at a walk; it was impossible to go faster. The rain
+pelted down, blinding me. Then, oddly enough, for the occasion hardly
+warranted such high-flown thoughts, I felt suddenly the utter
+helplessness of man: I had never before realised with such completeness
+his insignificance beside the might of Nature; alone, with not a soul in
+sight, I felt strangely powerless. The plain flaunted itself insolently
+in face of my distress, and the hills raised their heads with a scornful
+pride; they met the rain as equals, but me it crushed; I felt as though
+it would beat me down into the mire. I fell into a passion with the
+elements, and was seized with a desire to strike out. But the white
+sheet of water was senseless and impalpable, and I relieved myself by
+raging inwardly at the fools who complain of civilisation and of
+railway-trains; they have never walked for hours foot-deep in mud,
+terrified lest their horse should slip, with the rain falling as though
+it would never cease.</p>
+
+<p>The path led me to a river; there was a ford, but the water was very
+high, and rushed and foamed like a torrent. Ignorant of the depth and
+mistrustful, I trotted up-stream a little, seeking shallower parts; but
+none could be seen, and it was no use to look for a bridge. I was bound
+to cross, and I had to risk it; my only consolation was that even if
+Aguador could not stand, I was already so wet that I could hardly get
+wetter. The good horse required some persuasion before he would enter;
+the water rushed and bubbled and rapidly became deeper; he stopped and
+tried to turn back, but I urged him on. My feet went under water, and
+soon it was up to my knees; then, absurdly, it struck me as rather
+funny, and I began to laugh; I could not help thinking how foolish I
+should look and feel on arriving at the other side, if I had to swim for
+it. But immediately it grew shallower; all my adventures tailed off thus
+unheroically just when they began to grow exciting, and in a minute I
+was on comparatively dry land.</p>
+
+<p>I went on, still with no view of Mairena; but I was coming nearer. I met
+a group of women walking with their petticoats over their heads. I
+passed a labourer sheltered behind a hedge, while his oxen stood in a
+field, looking miserably at the rain. Still it fell, still it fell!</p>
+
+<p>And when I reached Mairena it was the most cheerless place I had come
+across on my journey, merely a poverty-stricken hamlet that did not even
+boast a bad inn. I was directed from place to place before I could find
+a stable; I was soaked to the skin, and there seemed no shelter. At last
+I discovered a wretched wine-shop; but the woman who kept it said there
+was no fire and no food. Then I grew very cross. I explained with heat
+that I had money; it is true I was bedraggled and disreputable, but when
+I showed some coins, to prove that I could pay for what I bought, she
+asked unwillingly what I required. I ordered a <i>brasero</i>, and dried my
+clothes as best I could by the burning cinders. I ate a scanty meal of
+eggs, and comforted myself with the thin wine of the leaf, sufficiently
+alcoholic to be exhilarating, and finally, with <i>aguardiente</i> regained
+my equilibrium.</p>
+
+<p>But the elements were against me. The rain had ceased while I lunched,
+but no sooner had I left Mairena than it began again, and Seville was
+sixteen miles away. It poured steadily. I tramped up the hills, covered
+with nut-trees; I wound down into valleys; the way seemed interminable.
+I tramped on. At last from the brow of a hill I saw in the distance the
+Giralda and the clustering houses of Seville, but all grey in the wet;
+above it heavy clouds were lowering. On and on!</p>
+
+<p>The day was declining, and Seville now was almost hidden in the mist,
+but I reached a road. I came to the first tavern of the environs; after
+a while to the first houses, then the road gave way to slippery cobbles,
+and I was in Seville. The Saints be praised!</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXXII" id="XXXII"></a>XXXII</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Granada</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">To</span> go from Seville to Granada is like coming out of the sunshine into
+deep shadow. I arrived, my mind full of Moorish pictures, expecting to
+find a vivid, tumultuous life; and I was ready with a prodigal hand to
+dash on the colours of my admiration. But Granada is a sad town, grey
+and empty; its people meander, melancholy, through the streets,
+unoccupied. It is a tradeless place living on the monuments which
+attract strangers, and like many a city famous for stirring history,
+seems utterly exhausted. Granada gave me an impression that it wished
+merely to be left alone to drag out its remaining days in peace, away
+from the advance of civilisation and the fervid hurrying of progress: it
+seemed like a great adventuress retired from the world after a life of
+vicissitude, anxious only to be forgotten, and after so much storm and
+stress to be nothing more than pious. There must be many descendants of
+the Moors, but the present population is wan and lifeless. They are
+taciturn, sombre folk, with nothing in them of the chattering and
+vivacious creatures of Arab history. Indeed, as I wandered through the
+streets, it was not the Moors that engaged my mind, but rather Ferdinand
+of Arragon and Isabella of Castille. Their grim strength over-powered
+the more graceful shadows of Moordom; and it was only by an effort that
+I recalled Gazul and Musa, most gallant and amorous of Paynim knights,
+tilting in the square, displaying incredible valour in the slaughter of
+savage bulls. I thought of the Catholic Kings, in full armour, riding
+with clank of steel through the captured streets. And the snowy summits
+of the Sierra Nevada, dazzling sometimes under the sun and the blue sky,
+but more often veiled with mist and capped by heavy clouds, grim and
+terrifying, lent a sort of tragic interest to the scene; so that I felt
+those grey masses, with their cloak of white, (they seemed near enough
+to overwhelm one,) made it impossible for the town built at their very
+feet, to give itself over altogether to flippancy.</p>
+
+<p>And for a while I found little of interest in Granada but the Alhambra.
+The gipsy quarter, with neither beauty, colour, nor even a touch of
+barbarism, is a squalid, brutal place, consisting of little dens built
+in the rock of the mountain which stands opposite the Alhambra. Worse
+than hovels, they are the lairs of wild beasts, f&oelig;tid and oppressive,
+inhabited by debased creatures, with the low forehead, the copper skin,
+and the shifty cruel look of the Spanish gipsy. They surround the
+visitor in their rags and tatters, clamouring for alms, and for
+exorbitant sums proposing to dance. Even in the slums of great cities I
+have not seen a life more bestial. I tried to imagine what sort of
+existence these people led. In the old days the rock-dwellings among the
+cactus served the gipsies for winter quarters only, and when the spring
+came they set off, scouring the country for something to earn or steal;
+but that is long ago. For two generations they have remained in these
+hovels&mdash;year in, year out&mdash;employed in shoeing horses, shearing, and the
+like menial occupations which the Spaniard thinks beneath his dignity.
+The women tell fortunes, or dance for the foreigner, or worse. It is a
+mere struggle for daily bread. I wondered whether in the spring-time the
+young men loved the maidens, or if they only coupled like the beasts. I
+saw one pair who seemed quite newly wed; for their scanty furniture was
+new and they were young. The man, short and squat, sat scowling,
+cross-legged on a chair, a cigarette between his lips. The woman was
+taller and not ill-made, a slattern; her hair fell dishevelled on her
+back and over her forehead; her dress was open, displaying the bosom;
+her apron was filthy. But when she smiled, asking for money, her teeth
+were white and regular, and her eyes flashed darkly. She was attractive
+in a heavy sensual fashion, attractive and at the same time horribly
+repellant: she was the sort of woman who might fetter a man to herself
+by some degrading, insuperable passion, the true Carmen of the famous
+story whom a man might at once love and hate; so that though she dragged
+him to hell in shame and in despair, he would never find the strength to
+free himself. But where among that bastard race was the splendid desire
+for freedom of their fathers, the love of the fresh air of heaven and
+the untrammeled life of the fields?</p>
+
+<p>At first glance also the cathedral seemed devoid of charm. I suppose
+travellers seek emotions in the things they see, and often the more
+beautiful objects do not give the most vivid sensations. Painters
+complain that men of letters have written chiefly of second-rate
+pictures, but the literary sentiment is different from the artistic; and
+a masterpiece of Perugino may excite it less than a mediocre work of
+Guido Reni.</p>
+
+<p>The cathedral of Granada is said by the excellent Fergusson to be the
+most noteworthy example in Europe of early Renaissance architecture; its
+proportions are evidently admirable, and it is designed and carried out
+according to all the canons of the art. 'Looking at its plan only,' he
+says, 'this is certainly one of the finest churches in Europe. It would
+be difficult to point out any other, in which the central aisle leads up
+to the dome, so well proportioned to its dimensions, and to the dignity
+of the high altar which stands under it.' But though I vaguely
+recognised these perfections, though the spacing appeared fine and
+simple, and the columns had a certain majesty, I was left more than a
+little cold. The whitewash with which the interior is coated gives an
+unsympathetic impression, and the abundant light destroys that mystery
+which the poorest, gaudiest Spanish church almost invariably possesses.
+In the <i>Capilla de los Reyes</i> are the elaborate monuments of the
+Catholic Kings, of their daughter Joan the Mad, and of Philip her
+husband; below, in the crypt, are four simple coffins, in which after so
+much grandeur, so much joy and sorrow, they rest. Indeed, for the two
+poor women who loved without requite, it was a life of pain almost
+unrelieved: it is a pitiful story, for all its magnificence, of Joan
+with her fiery passion for the handsome, faithless, worthless husband,
+and her mad jealousy; and of Isabella, with patient strength bearing
+every cross, always devoted to the man who tired of her quickly, and
+repaid her deep affection with naught but coldness and distrust.</p>
+
+<p>Queen Isabella's sword and sceptre are shown in the sacristry, and in
+contrast with the implement of war a beautiful cope, worked with her
+royal hands. And her crown also may be seen, one of the few I have come
+across which might really become the wearer, of silver, a masterpiece of
+delicate craftsmanship.</p>
+
+<p>But presently, returning to the cathedral and sitting in front of the
+high altar, I became at last conscious of its airy, restful grace. The
+chancel is very lofty. The base is a huge arcade which gives an effect
+of great lightness; and above are two rows of pictures, and still higher
+two rows of painted windows. The coloured glass throws the softest
+lights upon the altar and on the marble floor, rendering even quieter
+the low tints of the pictures. These are a series of illustrations of
+the life of the Blessed Virgin, painted by Alonzo Cano, a native of
+Valladolid, who killed his wife and came to Granada, whereupon those in
+power made him a prebendary. In the obscurity I could not see the
+paintings, but divined soft and pleasant things after the style of
+Murillo, and doubtless that was better than actually to see them. The
+pulpits are gorgeously carved in wood, and from the walls fly great
+angels with fine turbulence of golden drapery. And in the contrast of
+the soft white stone with the gold, which not even the most critical
+taste could complain was too richly spread, there is a delicate,
+fascinating lightness: the chancel has almost an Italian gaiety, which
+comes upon one oddly in the gloomy town. Here the decoration, the gilded
+virgins, the elaborate carving, do not oppress as elsewhere; the effect
+is too debonair and too refreshing. It is one colour more, one more
+distinction, in the complexity of the religious sentiment.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">But if what I have said of Granada seems cold, it is because I did not
+easily catch the spirit of the place. For when you merely observe and
+admire some view, and if industrious make a note of your impression, and
+then go home to luncheon, you are but a vulgar tripper, scum of the
+earth, deserving the ridicule with which the natives treat you. The
+romantic spirit is your only justification; when by the comeliness of
+your life or the beauty of your emotion you have attained that, (Shelley
+when he visited Paestum had it, but Théophile Gautier, flaunting his red
+waistcoat <i>tras los montes</i>, was perhaps no better than a Cook's
+tourist,) then you are no longer unworthy of the loveliness which it is
+your privilege to see. When the old red brick and the green trees say to
+you hidden things, and the <i>vega</i> and the mountains are stretched before
+you with a new significance, when at last the white houses with their
+brown tiles, and the labouring donkey, and the peasant at his plough,
+appeal to you so as to make, as it were, an exquisite pattern on your
+soul, then you may begin to find excuses for yourself. But you may see
+places long and often before they are thus magically revealed to you,
+and for myself I caught the real emotion of Granada but once, when from
+the Generalife I looked over the valley, the Generalife in which are
+mingled perhaps more admirably than anywhere else in Andalusia all the
+charm of Arabic architecture, of running water, and of cypress trees, of
+purple flags and dark red roses. It is a spot, indeed, fit for the
+plaintive creatures of poets to sing their loves, for Paolo and
+Francesca, for Juliet and Romeo; and I am glad that there I enjoyed such
+an exquisite moment.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXXIII" id="XXXIII"></a>XXXIII</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Alhambra</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">From</span> the church of <i>San Nicolas</i>, on the other side of the valley, the
+Alhambra, like all Moorish buildings externally very plain, with its red
+walls and low, tiled roofs, looks like some old charter-house. Encircled
+by the fresh green of the spring-time, it lies along the summit of the
+hill with an infinite, most simple grace, dun and brown and deep red;
+and from the sultry wall on which I sat the elm-trees and the poplars
+seemed very cool. Thirstily, after the long drought, the Darro, the Arab
+stream which ran scarlet with the blood of Moorish strife, wound its way
+over its stony bed among the hills; and beyond, in strange contrast with
+all the fertility, was the grey and silent grandeur of the Sierra
+Nevada. Few places can be more charming than the green wood in which
+stands the stronghold of the Moorish kings; the wind sighs among the
+topmost branches and all about is the sweet sound of running water; in
+spring the ground is carpeted with violets, and the heavy foliage gives
+an enchanting coldness. A massive gateway, flanked by watch-towers,
+forms the approach; but the actual entrance, offering no hint of the
+incredible magnificence within, is an insignificant door.</p>
+
+<p>But then, then you are immediately transported to a magic palace,
+existing in some uncertain age of fancy, which does not seem the work of
+human hands, but rather of Jin, an enchanted dwelling of seven lovely
+damsels. It is barely conceivable that historical persons inhabited such
+a place. At the same time it explains the wonderful civilisation of the
+Moors in Spain, with their fantastic battles, their songs and strange
+histories; and it brings the <i>Arabian Nights</i> into the bounds of sober
+reality: after he has seen the Alhambra none can doubt the literal truth
+of the stories of Sinbad the Sailor and of Hasan of Bassorah.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">From the terrace that overlooks the city you enter the Court of
+Myrtles&mdash;a long pool of water with goldfish swimming to and fro,
+enclosed by myrtle hedges. At the ends are arcades, borne by marble
+columns with capitals of surpassing beauty. It is very quiet and very
+restful; the placid water gives an indescribable sensation of delight,
+and at the end mirrors the slender columns and the decorated arches so
+that in reflection you see the entrance to a second palace, which is
+filled with mysterious, beautiful things. But in the Alhambra the
+imagination finds itself at last out of its depth, it cannot conjure up
+chambers more beautiful than the reality presents. It serves only to
+recall the old inhabitants to the deserted halls.</p>
+
+<p>The Moors continually used inscriptions with great effect, and there is
+one in this court which surpasses all others in its oriental imagery, in
+praise of Mohammed V.: <i>Thou givest safety from the breeze to the
+blades of grass, and inspirest terror in the very stars of heaven. When
+the shining stars quiver, it is through dread of thee, and when the
+grass of the field bends down it is to give thee thanks.</i></p>
+
+<p>But it is the Hall of the Ambassadors which shows most fully the
+unparalleled splendour of Moorish decoration. It is a square room, very
+lofty, with alcoves on three sides, at the bottom of which are windows;
+and the walls are covered, from the dado of tiles to the roof, with the
+richest and most varied ornamentation. The Moorish workmen did not spare
+themselves nor economise their exuberant invention. One pattern follows
+another with infinite diversity. Even the alcoves, and there are nine,
+are covered each with different designs, so that the mind is bewildered
+by their graceful ingenuity. All kinds of geometrical figures are used,
+enlacing with graceful intricacy, intersecting, combining and
+dissolving; conventional foliage and fruit, Arabic inscriptions. An
+industrious person has counted more than one hundred and fifty patterns
+in the Hall of the Ambassadors, impressed with iron moulds on the moist
+plaster of the walls. The roof is a low dome of larch wood, intricately
+carved and inlaid with ivory and with mother-of-pearl; it has been
+likened to the faceted surface of an elaborately cut gem. The effect is
+so gorgeous that you are oppressed; you long for some perfectly plain
+space whereon to rest the eye; but every inch is covered.</p>
+
+<p>Now the walls have preserved only delicate tints of red and blue, pale
+Wedgwood blues and faded terracottas, that make with the ivory of the
+plaster most exquisite harmonies; but to accord with the tiles, their
+brilliancy still undiminished, the colours must have been very bright.
+The complicated patterns and the gay hues reproduce the oriental carpets
+of the nomad's tent; for from the tent, it is said, (I know not with
+what justification,) all oriental architecture is derived. The fragile
+columns upon which rest masses of masonry are, therefore, direct
+imitations of tent-poles, and the stalactite borders of the arches
+represent the fringe of the woven hangings. The Moorish architect paid
+no attention to the rules of architecture, and it has been well said
+that if they existed for him at all it was only that he might
+elaborately disregard them. His columns generally support nothing; his
+arcades, so delicately worked that they seem like carved ivory, are of
+the lightest wood and plaster.</p>
+
+<p>And it is curious that there should be such durability in those dainty
+materials: they express well the fatalism of the luxurious Moor, to whom
+the past and future were as nothing, and the transient hour all in all;
+yet they have outlasted him and his conqueror. The Spaniard, inglorious
+and decayed, is now but the showman to this magnificence; time has seen
+his greatness come and go, as came and went the greatness of the Moor,
+but still, for all its fragility, the Alhambra stands hardly less
+beautiful. Travellers have always been astonished at the small size of
+the Alhambra, especially of the Court of Lions; for here, though the
+proportion is admirable the scale is tiny; and many have supposed that
+the Moors were of less imposing physique than modern Europeans. The
+Court is surrounded by exquisite little columns, singly, in twos, in
+threes, supporting horseshoe arches; and in the centre is that beautiful
+fountain, borne by twelve lions with bristly manes, standing very
+stiffly, whereon is the inscription: <i>O thou who beholdest these lions
+crouching, fear not. Life is wanting to enable them to show their fury.</i></p>
+
+<p>Indeed, their surroundings have such a delicate and playful grace that
+it is hard to believe the Moors had any of our strenuous, latter-day
+passions. Life must have been to them a masque rather than a
+tragi-comedy; and whether they belong to sober history or no, those
+contests of which the curious may read in the lively pages of Gines
+Perez de Hita accord excellently with the fanciful environment. In the
+Alhambra nothing seems more reasonable than those never-ending duels in
+which, for a lady's favour, gallant knights gave one another such blows
+that the air rang with them, such wounds that the ground was red with
+blood; but at sunset they separated and bound up their wounds and
+returned to the palace. And the king, at the relation of the adventure,
+was filled with amazement and with great content.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">Yet, notwithstanding, I find in the Alhambra something unsatisfying; for
+many an inferior piece of architecture has set my mind a-working so that
+I have dreamed charming dreams, or seen vividly the life of other times.
+But here, I know not why, my imagination helps me scarcely at all. The
+existence led within these gorgeous walls is too remote; there is but
+little to indicate the thoughts, the feelings, of these people, and one
+can take the Alhambra only as a thing of beauty, and despair to
+understand.</p>
+
+<p>I know that it is useless to attempt with words to give an idea of these
+numerous chambers and courts. A string of superlatives can do no more
+than tire the reader, an exact description can only confuse; nor is the
+painter able to give more than a suggestion of the bewildering charm.
+The effect is too emotional to be conveyed from man to man, and each
+must feel it for himself. Charles V. called him unhappy who had lost
+such treasure&mdash;<i>desgraciado el que tal perdio</i>&mdash;and showed his own
+appreciation by demolishing a part to build a Renaissance palace for
+himself! It appears that kings have not received from heaven with their
+right divine to govern wrong the inestimable gift of good taste; and for
+them possibly it is fortunate, since when, perchance, a sovereign has
+the artistic temperament, a discerning people&mdash;cuts off his head.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXXIV" id="XXXIV"></a>XXXIV</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Boabdil the Unlucky</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">He</span> was indeed unhappy who lost such treasure. The plain of Granada
+smiles with luxuriant crops, a beautiful country, gay with a hundred
+colours, and in summer when the corn is ripe it burns with vivid gold.
+The sun shines with fiery rays from the blue sky, and from the
+snow-capped mountains cool breezes temper the heat.</p>
+
+<p>But from his cradle Boabdil was unfortunate; soothsayers prophesied that
+his reign would see the downfall of the Moorish power, and his every
+step tended to that end. Never in human existence was more evident the
+mysterious power of the three sisters, the daughters of Night; the Fates
+had spun his destiny, they placed the pitfalls before his feet and
+closed his eyes that he might not see; they hid from him the way of
+escape. <i>Allah Achbar!</i> It was destiny. In no other way can be explained
+the madness which sped the victims of that tragedy to their ruin; for
+with the enemy at their very gates, the Muslims set up and displaced
+kings, plotted and counterplotted. Boabdil was twice deposed and twice
+regained the throne. Even when the Christian kingdoms had united to
+consume the remnant of Moorish sovereignty the Moors could not cease
+their quarrelling. Boabdil looked on with satisfaction while the
+territory of the rival claimant to his crown was wrested from him, and
+did not understand that his turn must inevitably follow. Verily, the
+gods, wishing to destroy him, had deranged his mind. It is a pitiful
+history of treachery and folly that was enacted while the Catholic
+Sovereigns devoured the pomegranate, seed by seed.</p>
+
+<p>To me history, with its hopes bound to be frustrated and its useless
+efforts, sometimes is so terrible that I can hardly read. I feel myself
+like one who lives, knowing the inevitable future, and yet is powerless
+to help. I see the acts of the poor human puppets, and know the disaster
+that must follow. I wonder if the Calvinists ever realised the agony of
+that dark God of theirs, omniscient and yet so strangely weak, to whom
+the eternal majesty of heaven was insufficient to save the predestined
+from everlasting death.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">On March 22, 1491, began the last siege of Granada.</p>
+
+<p>Ferdinand marched his army into the plain and began to destroy the
+crops, taking one by one the surrounding towns. He made no attempt upon
+the city itself, and hostilities were confined to skirmishes beneath the
+walls and single combats between Christian knights and Muslim cavaliers,
+wherein on either side prodigies of valour were performed. Through the
+summer the Moors were able to get provisions from the Sierra Nevada, but
+when, with winter, the produce of the earth grew less and its conveyance
+more difficult, famine began to make itself felt. The Moors consoled
+themselves with the hope that the besieging army would retire with the
+cold weather, for such in those days was the rule of warfare; but
+Ferdinand was in earnest. When an accidental fire burned his camp, he
+built him a town of solid stone and mortar, which he named Santa Fè. It
+stands still, the only town in Spain wherein a Moorish foot has never
+trod. Then the Muslims understood at last that the Spaniard would never
+again leave that fruitful land.</p>
+
+<p>And presently they began to talk of surrender; Spanish gold worked its
+way with Boabdil's councillors, and before winter was out the
+capitulation was signed.</p>
+
+<p>On the second day of the new year the final scene of the tragedy was
+acted. Early in the morning, before break of day, Boabdil had sent his
+mother and his wife with the treasure to precede him to the Alpuxarras,
+in which district, by the conditions of the treaty, Ferdinand had
+assigned him a little kingdom. Himself had one more duty to perform, and
+at the prearranged hour he sallied forth with a wretched escort of fifty
+knights. On the Spanish side the night had been spent in joy and
+feasting; but how must Boabdil have spent his, thinking of the
+inevitable morrow? To him the hours must have sped like minutes. What
+must have been the agony of his last look at the Alhambra, that jewel of
+incalculable price? Mendoza, the cardinal, had been sent forward to
+occupy the palace, and Boabdil passed him on the hill.</p>
+
+<p>Soon he reached Ferdinand, who was stationed near a mosque surrounded by
+all the glory of his Court, pennons flying, and knights in their
+magnificent array. Boabdil would have thrown himself from his horse in
+sign of homage to kiss the hand of the king of Arragon, but Ferdinand
+prevented him. Then Boabdil delivered the keys of the Alhambra to the
+victor, saying: 'They are thine, O king, since Allah so decrees it; use
+thy success with clemency and moderation.' Moving on sadly he saluted
+Isabella, and passed to rejoin his family; the Christians processioned
+to the city with psalm-singing.</p>
+
+<p>But when Boabdil was crossing the mountains he turned to look at the
+city he had lost, and burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>'You do well,' said his mother, 'to weep like a woman for what you could
+not defend like a man.'</p>
+
+<p>'Alas!' he cried, 'when were woes ever equal to mine?'</p>
+
+<p>It was not to be expected that the pious Kings of Castille and Arragon
+would keep their word, and means were soon invented to hound the
+wretched Boabdil from the principality they had granted. He crossed to
+Africa, and settled in Fez, of which the Sultan was his kinsman. It is
+pathetic to learn that there he built himself a palace in imitation of
+the Alhambra. At last, after many years, he was killed in an obscure
+battle fighting against the Sultan's rebels, and the Arab historian
+finishes the account of him with these words: 'Wretched man! who could
+lose his life in another's cause, though he dared not die in his own!
+Such was the immutable decree of destiny. Blessed be Allah, who exalteth
+and abaseth the kings of the earth according to His divine will, in the
+fulfilment of which consists that eternal justice which regulates all
+human affairs.'</p>
+
+<p>In the day of El Makkary, the historian of the Moorish Empire, Boabdil's
+descendants had so fallen that they were nothing but common beggars,
+subsisting upon the charitable allowances made to the poor from the
+funds of the mosques.</p>
+
+<p><i>One generation passeth away and another generation cometh: but the
+earth abideth for ever.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXXV" id="XXXV"></a>XXXV</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Los Pobres</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">People</span> say that in Granada the beggars are more importunate than in any
+other Spanish town, but throughout Andalusia their pertinacity and
+number are amazing. They are licensed by the State, and the brass badge
+they wear makes them demand alms almost as a right. It is curious to
+find that the Spaniard, who is by no means a charitable being, gives
+very often to beggars&mdash;perhaps from superstitious motives, thinking
+their prayers will be of service, or fearing the evil eye, which may
+punish a refusal. Begging is quite an honourable profession in Spain;
+mendicants are charitably termed the poor, and not besmirched, as in
+England, with an opprobrious name.</p>
+
+<p>I have never seen so many beggars as in Andalusia; at every church door
+there will be a dozen, and they stand or sit at each street corner,
+halt, lame and blind. Every possible deformity is paraded to arouse
+charity. Some look as though their eyes had been torn out, and they
+glare at you with horrible bleeding sockets; most indeed are blind, and
+you seldom fail to hear their monotonous cry, sometimes naming the
+saint's day to attract particular persons: 'Alms for the love of God,
+for a poor blind man on this the day of St. John!' They stand from
+morning till night, motionless, with hand extended, repeating the words
+as the sound of footsteps tells them some one is approaching; and then,
+as a coin is put in their hands, say gracefully: '<i>Dios se lo pagara!</i>
+God will repay you.'</p>
+
+<p>In Spain you do not pass silently when a beggar demands alms, but pray
+his mercy for God's love to excuse you: '<i>Perdone Usted por el amor de
+Dios!</i>' Or else you beseech God to protect him: '<i>Dios le ampare!</i>' And
+the mendicant, coming to your gate, sometimes invokes the Immaculate
+Virgin.</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Ave Maria purissima!</i>' he calls.</p>
+
+<p>And you, tired of giving, reply: '<i>Y por siempre!</i> And for ever.'</p>
+
+<p>He passes on, satisfied with your answer, and rings at the next door.</p>
+
+<p>It is not only in Burgos that Théophile Gautier might have admired the
+beggar's divine rags; everywhere they wrap their cloaks about them in
+the same magnificent fashion. The <i>capa</i>, I suppose, is the most
+graceful of all the garments of civilised man, and never more so than
+when it barely holds together, a mass of rags and patches, stained by
+the rain and bleached by the sun and wind. It hangs straight from the
+neck in big simple lines, or else is flung over one shoulder with a
+pompous wealth of folds.</p>
+
+<p>There is a strange immobility about Andalusian beggars which recalls
+their Moorish ancestry. They remain for hours in the same attitude,
+without moving a muscle; and one I knew in Seville stood day after day,
+from early morning till midnight, with hand outstretched in the same
+rather crooked position, never saying a word, but merely trusting to the
+passer-by to notice. The variety is amazing, men and women and children;
+and Seville at fair-time, or when the foreigners are coming for Holy
+Week, is like an enormous hospital. Mendicants assail you on all sides,
+the legless dragging themselves on their hands, the halt running towards
+you with a crutch, the blind led by wife or child, the deaf and dumb,
+the idiotic. I remember a woman with dead eyes and a huge hydrocephalic
+head, who sat in a bath-chair by one of the cathedral doors, and
+whenever people passed, cried shrilly for money in a high, unnatural
+voice. Sometimes they protrude maimed limbs, feetless legs or arms
+without hands; they display loathsome wounds, horribly inflamed; every
+variety of disease is shown to extort a copper. And so much is it a
+recognised trade that they have their properties, as it were: one old
+man whose legs had been shot away, trotted through the narrow streets of
+Seville on a diminutive ass, driving it into the shop-doors to demand
+his mite. Then there are the children, the little boys and girls that
+Murillo painted, barely covered by filthy rags, cherubs with black hair
+and shining eyes, the most importunate of all the tribe. The refusal of
+a halfpenny is followed impudently by demands for a cigarette, and as a
+last resort for a match; they wander about with keen eyes for
+cigar-ends, and no shred of a smoked leaf is too diminutive for them to
+get no further use from it.</p>
+
+<p>And beside all these are the blind fiddlers, scraping out old-fashioned
+tunes that were popular thirty years ago; the guitarists, singing the
+<i>flamenco</i> songs which have been sung in Spain ever since the Moorish
+days; the buffoons, who extract tunes from a broomstick; the owners of
+performing dogs.</p>
+
+<p>They are a picturesque lot, neither vicious nor ill-humoured. Begging is
+a fairly profitable trade, and not a very hard one; in winter <i>el pobre</i>
+can always find a little sunshine, and in summer a little shade. It is
+no hardship for him to sit still all day; he would probably do little
+else if he were a millionaire. He looks upon life without bitterness;
+Fate has not been very kind, but it is certainly better to be a live
+beggar than a dead king, and things might have been ten thousand times
+worse. For instance, he might not have been born a Spaniard, and every
+man in his senses knows that Spain is the greatest nation on earth,
+while to be born a citizen of some other country is the most dreadful
+misfortune that can befall him. He has his licence from the State, and a
+charitable public sees that he does not absolutely starve; he has
+cigarettes to smoke&mdash;to say that a blind man cannot enjoy tobacco is
+evidently absurd&mdash;and therefore, all these things being so, why should
+he think life such a woeful matter? While it lasts the sun is there to
+shine equally on rich and poor, and afterwards will not a paternal
+government find a grave in the public cemetery? It is true that the
+beggar shares it with quite a number of worthy persons, doubtless most
+estimable corpses, and his coffin even is but a temporary
+convenience&mdash;but still, what does it matter?</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXXVI" id="XXXVI"></a>XXXVI</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Song</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">But</span> the Moorish influence is nowhere more apparent than in the Spanish
+singing. There is nothing European in that quavering lament, in those
+long-drawn and monotonous notes, in those weird trills. The sounds are
+strange to the ear accustomed to less barbarous harmonies, and at first
+no melody is perceived; it is custom alone which teaches the sad and
+passionate charm of these things. A <i>malagueña</i> is the particular
+complaint of the maid sorrowing for an absent lover, of the peasant who
+ploughs his field in the declining day. The long notes of such a song,
+floating across the silence of the night, are like a new melody on the
+great harpsichord of human sorrow. No emotion is more poignant than that
+given by the faint sad sounds of a Spanish song as one wanders through
+the deserted streets in the dead of night; or far in the country, with
+the sun setting red in the cloudless sky, when the stillness is broken
+only by the melancholy chanting of a shepherd among the olive-trees.</p>
+
+<p>An heritage of Moordom is the Spanish love for the improvisation of
+well-turned couplets; in olden days a skilful verse might procure the
+poet a dress of cloth-of-gold, and it did on one occasion actually
+raise a beggar-maid to a royal throne: even now it has power to secure
+the lover his lady's most tender smiles, or at the worst a glass of
+Manzanilla. The richness of the language helps him with his rhymes, and
+his southern imagination gives him manifold subjects. But, being the
+result of improvisation&mdash;no lady fair would consider the suit of a
+gallant who could not address her in couplets of his own devising&mdash;the
+Spanish song has a peculiar character. The various stanzas have no
+bearing upon one another; they consist of four or seven lines, but in
+either case each contains its definite sentiment; so that one verse may
+be a complete song, or the singer may continue as long as the muse
+prompts and his subject's charms occasion. The Spanish song is like a
+barbaric necklace in which all manner of different stones are strung
+upon a single cord, without thought for their mutual congruity.</p>
+
+<p>Naturally the vast majority of the innumerable couplets thus invented
+are forgotten as soon as sung, but now and then the fortuitous
+excellence of one impresses it on the maker's recollection, and it may
+be preserved. Here is an example which has been agreeably translated by
+Mr. J. W. Crombie; but neither original nor English rendering can give
+an adequate idea of the charm which depends on the oriental melancholy
+of the music:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dos besos tengo en el alma</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Que no se apartan de mí:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">El ultimo de mi madre,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Y el primero que te di.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Deep in my soul two kisses rest,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Forgot they ne'er shall be:</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>The last my mother's lips impressed,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>The first I stole from thee.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Here is another, the survival of which testifies to the Spanish extreme
+love of a compliment; and the somewhat hackneyed sentiment can only have
+made it more pleasant to the feminine ear:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Salga el sol, si ha de salir,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Y si no, que nunca salga;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Que para alumbrarme á mí</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">La luz de tus ojos basta.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>If the sun care to rise, let him rise,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>But if not, let him ever lie hid;</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>For the light from my lady-love's eyes</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Shines forth as the sun never did.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>It is a diverting spectacle to watch a professional improviser in the
+throes of inspiration. This is one of the stock 'turns' of the Spanish
+music-hall, and one of the most popular. I saw a woman in Granada, who
+was quite a celebrity; and the barbaric wildness of her performance,
+with its accompaniment of hand-clapping, discordant cries, and twanging
+of guitar, harmonised well with my impression of the sombre and mediæval
+city.</p>
+
+<p>She threaded her way to the stage among the crowded tables, through the
+auditorium, a sallow-faced creature, obese and large-boned, with coarse
+features and singularly ropy hair. She was accompanied by a fat small
+man with a guitar and a woman of mature age and ample proportions: it
+appeared that the cultivation of the muse, evidently more profitable
+than in England, conduced to adiposity. They stepped on the stage,
+taking chairs with them, for in Spain you do not stand to sing, and were
+greeted with plentiful applause. The little fat man began to play the
+long prelude to the couplet; the old woman clapped her hands and
+occasionally uttered a raucous cry. The poetess gazed into the air for
+inspiration. The guitarist twanged on, and in the audience there were
+scattered cries of <i>Ole!</i> Her companions began to look at the singer
+anxiously, for the muse was somewhat slow; and she patted her knee and
+groaned; at last she gave a little start and smiled. <i>Ole! Ole!</i> The
+inspiration had come. She gave a moan, which lengthened into the
+characteristic trill, and then began the couplet, beating time with her
+hands. Such an one as this:</p>
+
+<p>
+Suspires que de mí salgan,<br />
+Y otros que de tí saldran,<br />
+Si en el camino se encuentran<br />
+Que de cosas se diran!<br />
+<br />
+<i>If all the sighs thy lips now shape</i><br />
+<i>Could meet upon the way</i><br />
+<i>With those that from mine own escape</i><br />
+<i>What things they'd have to say!</i><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>She finished, and all three rose from their chairs and withdrew them,
+but it was only a false exit; immediately the applause grew clamorous
+they sat down again, and the little fat man repeated his introduction.</p>
+
+<p>But this time there was no waiting. The singer had noticed a well-known
+bull-fighter and quickly rolled off a couplet in his praise. The
+subject beamed with delight, and the general enthusiasm knew no bounds.
+The people excitedly threw their hats on the stage, and these were
+followed by a shower of coppers, which the performers, more heedful to
+the compensation of Art than to its dignity, grovelled to picked up.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">Here is a lover's praise of the whiteness of his lady's skin:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">La neve por tu cara</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Paso diciendo:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">En donde no hago falta</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">No me detengo.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Before thy brow the snow-flakes</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>Hurry past and say:</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>'Where we are not needed,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>Wherefore should we stay?'</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>And this last, like the preceding translated by Mr. Crombie, shows once
+more how characteristic are Murillo's Holy Families of the popular
+sentiment:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">La Virgen lava la ropa,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">San José la esta tendiendo,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Santa Ana entretiene el niño,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Y el agua se va riendo.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>The Virgin is washing the clothes at the brook.</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>And Saint Joseph hangs them to dry.</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Saint Anna plays with the Holy Babe,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>And the water flows smiling by.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXXVII" id="XXXVII"></a>XXXVII</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Jerez</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">Jerez</span> is the Andalusian sunshine again after the dark clouds of Granada.
+It is a little town in the middle of a fertile plain, clean and
+comfortable and spacious. It is one of the richest places in Spain; the
+houses have an opulent look, and without the help of Baedeker you may
+guess that they contain respectable persons with incomes, and carriages
+and horses, with frock-coats and gold watch-chains. I like the people of
+Jerez; their habitual expression suggests a consciousness that the
+Almighty is pleased with them, and they without doubt are well content
+with the Almighty. The main street, with its trim shops and its <i>cafés</i>,
+has the air of a French provincial town&mdash;an appearance of agreeable ease
+and dulness.</p>
+
+<p>Every building in Jerez is washed with lime, and in the sunlight the
+brilliancy is dazzling. You realise then that in Seville the houses are
+not white&mdash;although the general impression is of a white town&mdash;but, on
+the contrary, tinted with various colours from faintest pink to pale
+blue, pale green; they remind you of the summer dresses of women. The
+soft tones are all mingled with the sunlight and very restful. But Jerez
+is like a white banner floating under the cloudless sky, the pure white
+banner of Bacchus raised defiantly against the gaudy dyes of teetotalism
+and its shrieking trumpets.</p>
+
+<p>Jerez the White is, of course, the home of sherry, and the whole town is
+given over to the preparation of the grateful juice. The air is
+impregnated with a rich smell. The sun shines down on Jerez; and its
+cleanliness, its prosperity, are a rebuke to harsh-voiced contemners of
+the grape.</p>
+
+<p>You pass <i>bodega</i> after <i>bodega</i>, cask-factories, bottle-factories. A
+bottle-factory is a curious, interesting place, an immense barn, sombre,
+so that the eye loses itself in the shadows of the roof; and the scanty
+light is red and lurid from the furnaces, which roar hoarsely and long.
+Against the glow the figures of men, half-naked, move silently,
+performing the actions of their craft with a monotonous regularity which
+is strange and solemn. They move to and fro, carrying an iron instrument
+on which is the molten mass of red-hot glass, and it gleams with an
+extraordinary warm brilliancy. It twists hither and thither in obedience
+to the artisan's deft movements; it coils and writhes into odd shapes,
+like a fire-snake curling in the torture of its own unearthly ardour.
+The men pass so regularly, with such a silent and exact precision, that
+it seems a weird and mystic measure they perform&mdash;a rhythmic dance of
+unimaginable intricacy, whose meaning you cannot gather and whose
+harmony escapes you. The flames leap and soar in a thousand savage
+forms, and their dull thunder fills your ears with a confusion of sound.
+Your eyes become accustomed to the dimness, and you discern more
+clearly the features of those swarthy men, bearded and gnome-like. But
+the molten mass has been put into the mould; you watch it withdrawn, the
+bottom indented, the mouth cut and shaped. And now it is complete, but
+still red-hot, and glowing with an infernal transparency, gem-like and
+wonderful; it is a bottle fit now for the juice of satanic vineyards,
+and the miraculous potions of eternal youth, for which men in the old
+days bartered their immortal souls.</p>
+
+<p>And the effect of a <i>bodega</i> is picturesque, too, though in a different
+way. It is a bright and cheerful spot, a huge shed with whitewashed
+walls and an open roof supported by dark beams; great casks are piled
+up, impressing you in their vast rotundity with a sort of aldermanic
+stateliness. The whole place is fragrant with clean, vinous perfumes.
+Your guide carries a glass and a long filler. You taste wine after wine,
+in different shades of brown; light wines to drink with your dinner,
+older wines to drink before your coffee; wines more than a century old,
+of which the odour is more delicate than violets; new wines of the
+preceding year, strong and rough; Amontillados, with the softest flavour
+in the world; Manzanillas for the gouty; Marsalas, heavy and sweet;
+wines that smell of wild-flowers; cheap wines and expensive wines. Then
+the brandies&mdash;the distiller tells you proudly that Spanish brandy is
+made from wine, and contemptuously that French brandy is not&mdash;old
+brandies for which a toper would sell his soul; new brandies like
+fusel-oil; brandies mellow and mild and rich. It is a drunkard's
+paradise.</p>
+
+<p>And why should not the drinker have his paradise? The teetotallers have
+slapped their bosoms and vowed that liquor was the devil's own
+invention. (Note, by the way, that liquor is a noble word that should
+not be applied to those weak-kneed abominations that insolently flaunt
+their lack of alcohol. Let them be called liquids or fluids or
+beverages, or what you will. Liquor is a word for heroes, for the
+British tar who has built up British glory&mdash;Imperialism is quite the
+fashion now.) And for a hundred years none has dared lift his voice in
+refutation of these dyspeptic slanders. The toper did not care, he
+nursed his bottle and let the world say what it would; but the moderate
+drinker was abashed. Who will venture to say that a glass of beer gives
+savour to the humblest crust, and comforts Corydon, lamenting the
+inconstancy of Phyllis? Who will come forward and strike an attitude and
+prove the benefits of the grape? (The attitude is essential, for without
+it you cannot hope to impress your fellow men.) Rise up in your might,
+ye lovers of hop and grape and rye&mdash;rise up and slay the Egyptians. Be
+honest and thank your stars for the cup that cheers. Bacchus was not a
+pot-bellied old sot, but a beautiful youth with vine-leaves in his hair,
+Bacchus the lover of flowers; and Ariadne was charming.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">The country about Jerez undulates in just such an easy comfortable
+fashion as you would expect. It is scenery of the gentlest and
+pleasantest type, sinuous; little hills rising with rounded lines and
+fertile valleys. The vines cover the whole land, creeping over the brown
+soil fantastically, black stumps, shrivelled and gnarled, tortured into
+uncouth shapes; they remind you of the creeping things in a naturalist's
+museum, of giant spiders and great dried centipedes and scorpions. But
+imagine the vineyards later, when the spring has stirred the earth with
+fecundity! The green shoots tenderly forth; at first it is all too
+delicate for a colour, it is but a mist of indescribable tenuity; and
+gradually the leaves burst out and trail along the ground with
+ever-increasing luxuriance; and then it is a rippling sea of passionate
+verdure.</p>
+
+<p>But I liked Jerez best towards evening, when the sun had set and the
+twilight glided through the tortuous alleys like a woman dressed in
+white. Then, as I walked in the silent streets, narrow and steep, with
+their cobble-paving, the white houses gained a new aspect. There seemed
+not a soul in the world, and the loneliness was more intoxicating than
+all their wines; the shining sun was gone, and the sky lost its blue
+richness, it became so pale that you felt it like a face of death&mdash;and
+the houses looked like long rows of tombs. We walked through the
+deserted streets, I and the woman dressed in white, side by side
+silently; our footsteps made no sound upon the stones. And Jerez was
+wrapped in a ghostly shroud. Ah, the beautiful things I have seen which
+other men have not!</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXXVIII" id="XXXVIII"></a>XXXVIII</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Cadiz</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">I</span> admire the strenuous tourist who sets out in the morning with his
+well-thumbed Baedeker to examine the curiosities of a foreign town, but
+I do not follow in his steps; his eagerness after knowledge, his
+devotion to duty, compel my respect, but excite me to no imitation. I
+prefer to wander in old streets at random without a guide-book, trusting
+that fortune will bring me across things worth seeing; and if
+occasionally I miss some monument that is world-famous, more often I
+discover some little dainty piece of architecture, some scrap of
+decoration, that repays me for all else I lose. And in this fashion the
+less pretentious beauties of a town delight me, which, if I sought under
+the guidance of the industrious German, would seem perhaps scarcely
+worth the trouble. Nor do I know that there is in Cadiz much to attract
+the traveller beyond the grace with which it lies along the blue sea and
+the unstudied charm of its gardens, streets, and market-place; the echo
+in the cathedral to which the gaping tripper listens with astonishment
+leaves me unmoved; and in the church of <i>Santa Catalina</i>, which contains
+the last work of Murillo, upon which he was engaged at his death, I am
+more interested in the tall stout priest, unctuous and astute, who
+shows me his treasure, than in the picture itself. I am relieved now and
+again to visit a place that has no obvious claims on my admiration; it
+throws me back on the peculiarities of the people, on the stray
+incidents of the street, on the contents of the shops.</p>
+
+<p>Cadiz is said to be the gayest town in Andalusia. Spaniards have always
+a certain gravity; they are not very talkative, and like the English,
+take their pleasures a little sadly. But here lightness of heart is
+thought to reign supreme, and the inhabitants have not even the apparent
+seriousness with which the Sevillan cloaks a somewhat vacant mind. They
+are great theatre-goers, and as dancers, of course, have been famous
+since the world began. But I doubt whether Cadiz deserves its
+reputation, for it always seems to me a little prim. The streets are
+well-kept and spacious, the houses, taller than is usual in Andalusia,
+have almost as cared-for an appearance as those in a prosperous suburb
+of London; and it is only quite occasionally, when you catch a glimpse
+of tawny rock and of white breakwater against the blue sea, that by a
+reminiscence of Naples you can persuade yourself it is as immoral as
+they say. For, not unlike the Syren City, Cadiz lies white and cool
+along the bay, with gardens at the water's edge; but it has not the
+magic colour of its rival, it is quieter, smaller, more restful; and on
+the whole lacks that agreeable air of wickedness which the Italian town
+possesses to perfection. It is impossible to be a day in Naples without
+discovering that it is the most depraved city in Europe; there is
+something in the atmosphere which relaxes the moral fibre, and the
+churchwarden who keeps guard in the bosom of every Englishman falls
+asleep, so that you feel capable of committing far more than the seven
+deadly sins. Of course, you don't, but still it is comfortable to have
+them within reach.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">I came across, while examining the wares of a vendor of antiquities, a
+contemporary narrative from the Spanish side of the attack made on Cadiz
+by Sir Francis Drake when he set out to singe the beard of Philip II.;
+and this induced me afterwards to look into the English story. It is far
+from me to wish to inform the reader, but the account is not
+undiverting, and shows, besides, a frame of mind which the Anglo-Saxon
+has not ceased to cultivate. 'But the Almighty God,' says the historian,
+'knowing and seeing his (the Spanish king's) wicked intent to punish,
+molest, and trouble His little flock, the children of Israel, hath
+raised up a faithful Moses for the defence of His chosen, and will not
+suffer His people utterly to fall into the hands of their enemies.'
+Drake set sail from Plymouth with four of her Majesty's ships, two
+pinnaces, and some twenty merchantmen. A vessel was sent after, charging
+him not to show hostilities, but the messenger, owing to contrary winds,
+could never come near the admiral, and vastly to the annoyance of the
+Virgin Queen, as she solemnly assured the ambassadors of foreign powers,
+had to sail home. Under the circumstances it was, perhaps, hardly
+discreet of her to take so large a share of the booty.</p>
+
+<p>Faithful Moses arrived in Cadiz, spreading horrid consternation, and the
+Spanish pamphlet shows very vividly the confusion of the enemy. It
+appears that, had he boldly landed, he might have sacked the town, but
+he imagined the preparations much greater than they were. However, he
+was not idle. 'The same night our general, having, by God's good favour
+and sufferance, opportunity to punish the enemy of God's true gospel and
+our daily adversary, and further willing to discharge his expected duty
+towards God, his peace and country, began to sink and fire divers of
+their ships.'</p>
+
+<p>The English fleet burned thirty sail of great burden, and captured vast
+quantities of the bread, wheat, wine and oil which had been prepared for
+the descent upon England. Sir Francis Drake himself remarks that 'the
+sight of the terrible fires were to us very pleasant, and mitigated the
+burden of our continual travail, wherein we were busied for two nights
+and one day, in discharging, firing, and lading of provisions.'</p>
+
+<p class="tb">It is a curious thing to see entirely deserted a place of entertainment,
+where great numbers of people are in the habit of assembling. A theatre
+by day, without a soul in it, gives me always a sensation of the
+ridiculous futility of things; and a public garden towards evening
+offers the same emotion. On the morrow I was starting for Africa; I
+watched the sunset from the quays of Cadiz, the vapours of the twilight
+rise and envelop the ships in greyness, and I walked by the <i>alamadas</i>
+that stretch along the bay till I came to the park. The light was
+rapidly failing and I found myself alone. It had quaint avenues of
+short palms, evidently not long planted, and between them rows of yellow
+iron chairs arranged with great neatness and precision. It was there
+that on Sunday I had seen the populace disport itself, and it was full
+of life then, gay and insouciant. The fair ladies drove in their
+carriages, and the fine gentlemen, proud of their English clothes,
+lounged idly. The chairs were taken by all the lesser fry, by stout
+mothers, dragons attendant on dark-eyed girls, and their lovers in broad
+hats, in all the gala array of the <i>flamenco</i>. There was a joyous
+clamour of speech and laughter; the voices of Spanish women are harsh
+and unrestrained; the park sparkled with colour, and the sun caught the
+fluttering of countless fans.</p>
+
+<p>For those blithe people it seemed that there was no morrow: the present
+was there to be enjoyed, divine and various, and the world was full of
+beauty and of sunshine; merely to live was happiness enough; if there
+was pain or sorrow it served but to enhance the gladness. The hurrying
+hours for a while had ceased their journey. Life was a cup of red wine,
+and they were willing to drink its very dregs, a brimming cup in which
+there was no bitterness, but a joy more thrilling than the gods could
+give in all their paradise.</p>
+
+<p>But now I walked alone between the even rows of chairs. The little palms
+were so precise, with their careful foliage, that they did not look like
+real trees; the flower-beds were very stiff and neat, and now and then a
+pine stood out, erect and formal as if it were a cardboard tree from a
+Noah's Ark. The scene was so artificial that it brought to my mind the
+setting of a pantomime. I stopped, almost expecting a thousand
+ballet-girls to appear from the wings, scantily clad, and go through a
+measure to the playing of some sudden band, and retire and come forward
+till the stage was filled and a great tableau formed.</p>
+
+<p>But the day grew quite dim, and the vast stage remained empty. The
+painted scene became still more unreal, and presently the park was
+filled with the ghostly shapes of all the light-hearted people who had
+lived their hour and exhibited their youth in the empty garden. I heard
+the whispered compliments, and the soft laughter of the ladies; there
+was a peculiar little snap as gaily they closed their fans.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XXXIX" id="XXXIX"></a>XXXIX</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">El Genero Chico</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">In</span> the evening I wandered again along the quay, my thoughts part
+occupied with the novel things I expected from Morocco, part sorrowful
+because I must leave the scented land of Spain. I seemed never before to
+have enjoyed so intensely the exquisite softness of the air, and there
+was all about me a sense of spaciousness which gave a curious feeling of
+power. In the harbour, on the ships, the lights of the masts twinkled
+like the stars above; and looking over the stony parapet, I heard the
+waves lap against the granite like a long murmur of regret; I tried to
+pierce the darkness, straining my eyes to see some deeper obscurity
+which I might imagine to be the massive coasts of Africa. But at last I
+could bear the solitude no longer, and I dived into the labyrinth of
+streets.</p>
+
+<p>At first, in unfrequented ways, I passed people only one by one, some
+woman walking rapidly with averted face, or a pair of chattering
+students; but as I came near the centre of the town the passers-by grew
+more frequent, and suddenly I found myself in the midst of a thronging,
+noisy crowd. I looked up and saw that I was opposite a theatre; the
+people had just come from the second <i>funcion</i>. I had heard that the
+natives of Cadiz were eager theatre-goers, and was curious to see how
+they took this pleasure. I saw also that the next piece was <i>Las
+Borrachos</i>, a play of Seville life that I had often seen; and I felt
+that I could not spend my last evening better than in living again some
+of those scenes which pattered across my heart now like little sorrowful
+feet.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">The theatre in Spain is the only thing that has developed further than
+in the rest of Europe&mdash;in fact, it has nearly developed clean away. The
+Spaniards were the first to confess that dramatic art bored them to
+death; and their habits rendered impossible the long play which took an
+evening to produce. Eating late, they did not wish to go to the theatre
+till past nine; being somewhat frivolous, they could not sit for more
+than an hour without going outside and talking to their friends; and
+they were poor. To satisfy their needs the <i>genero chico</i>, or little
+style, sprang into existence; and quickly every theatre in Spain was
+given over to the system of four houses a night. Each function is
+different, and the stall costs little more than sixpence.</p>
+
+<p>We English are idealists; and on the stage especially reality stinks in
+our nostrils. The poor are vulgar, and in our franker moments we confess
+our wish to have nothing to do with them. The middle classes are sordid;
+we have enough of them in real life, and no desire to observe their
+doings at the theatre, particularly when we wear our evening clothes.
+But when a dramatist presents duchesses to our admiring eyes, we feel
+at last in our element; we watch the acts of persons whom we would
+willingly meet at dinner, and our craving for the ideal is satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>But in Spain nobles are common and excite no overwhelming awe. The
+Spaniard, most democratic of Europeans, clamours for realism, and
+nothing pleases him more than a literal transcript of the life about
+him. The manners and customs of good society do not entertain him, and
+the <i>genero chico</i> concerns itself almost exclusively with the lower
+classes. The bull-fighter is, of course, one of the most usual figures;
+and round him are gathered the lovers of the ring, inn-keepers, cobblers
+and carpenters, policemen, workmen, flower-sellers, street-singers,
+cigarette girls, country maidens. The little pieces are innumerable, and
+together form a compend of low life in Spain; the best are full of
+gaiety and high spirits, with a delicate feeling for character, and
+often enough are touched by a breath of poetry. Songs and dances are
+introduced, and these come in the more naturally since the action
+generally takes place on a holiday. The result is a musical comedy in
+one act; but with nothing in it of the entertainment which is a joy to
+the British public: an Andalusian audience would never stand that
+representation of an impossible and vulgar world in which the women are
+all trollops and the men, rips, nincompoops and bounders; they would
+never suffer the coarse humour and the shoddy patriotism.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, these one-act plays have destroyed the legitimate drama.
+Whereas Maria Guerrero, that charming actress, will have a run of twenty
+nights in a new play by Echegaray, a popular <i>zarzuela</i> will be acted
+hundreds of times in every town in Spain. But none can regret that the
+Spaniards have evolved these very national little pieces, and little has
+been lost in the non-existence of an indefinite number of imitations
+from the French. The <i>zarzuela</i>, I should add, lasts about an hour, and
+for the most part is divided into three scenes.</p>
+
+<p>Such a play as <i>Los Borrachos</i> is nothing less than a <i>genre</i> picture of
+Seville life. It reminds one of a painting by Teniers; and I should like
+to give some idea of it, since it is really one of the best examples of
+the class, witty, varied, and vivacious. But an obstacle presents itself
+in the fact that I can find no vestige of a plot. The authors set out to
+characterise the various lovers of the vine, (nowhere in Andalusia are
+the devotees of the yellow Manzanilla more numerous than in Seville,)
+and with telling strokes have drawn the good-natured tippler, the surly
+tippler, the religious tippler. To these they have added other types,
+which every Andalusian can recognise as old friends&mdash;the sharp-tongued
+harridan, the improviser of couplets with his ridiculous vanity, the
+flower-seller, and the 'prentice-boy of fifteen, who, notwithstanding
+his tender years, is afflicted with love for the dark-eyed heroine. The
+action takes place first in a street, then in a court-yard, lastly in a
+carpenter's shop. There are dainty love-scenes between Soledad, the
+distressed maiden, and Juanillo, the flower-seller; and one, very
+Spanish, where the witty and precocious apprentice offers her his
+diminutive hand and heart. Numerous people come and go, the drunkards
+drink and quarrel and make peace; the whole thing, if somewhat confused,
+is very life-like, and runs with admirable lightness and ease. It is
+true that the play has neither beginning nor end, but perhaps that only
+makes it seem the truer; and if the scenes have no obvious connection
+they are all amusing and characteristic. It is acted with extraordinary
+spirit. The players, indeed, are not acting, but living their ordinary
+lives, and it is pleasant to see the zest with which they throw
+themselves into the performance. When the hero presses the heroine in
+his arms, smiles and passionate glances pass between them, which suggest
+that even the love-making is not entirely make-believe.</p>
+
+<p>I wish I could translate the song which Juanillo sings when he passes
+his lady's window, bearing his basket of flowers:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Carnations for pretty girls that are true,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Musk-roses for pretty girls that are coy,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Rosebuds as small as thy mouth, my dearest,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And roses as fair as thy cheeks.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>I cannot, indeed, resist the temptation of giving one verse in that
+Andalusian dialect, from which all harsh consonants and unmusical sounds
+have been worn away&mdash;the most complete and perfect language in the world
+for lovers and the passion of love:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>Sal, morena, á tu ventana,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Mira las flores que traigo;</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Sal y di si son bastantes</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Pa arfombrita de tu cuarto.</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>Que yo te quiero</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>Y a ti te doy</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Tos los tesoros der mundo entero,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>To le que vargo, to lo que soy.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="XL" id="XL"></a>XL</h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Adios</div>
+
+
+<p class="non"><span class="smcap">And</span> then the morrow was come. Getting up at five to catch my boat, I
+went down to the harbour; a grey mist hung over the sea, and the sun had
+barely risen, a pallid, yellow circle; the fishing-boats lolled on the
+smooth, dim water, and fishermen in little groups blew on their fingers.</p>
+
+<p>And from Cadiz I saw the shores of Spain sink into the sea; I saw my
+last of Andalusia. Who, when he leaves a place that he has loved, can
+help wondering when he will see it again? I asked the wind, and it
+sighed back the Spanish answer: '<i>Quien sabe?</i> Who knows?' The traveller
+makes up his mind to return quickly, but all manner of things happen,
+and one accident or another prevents him; time passes till the desire is
+lost, and when at last he comes back, himself has altered or changes
+have occurred in the old places and all seems different. He looks quite
+coldly at what had given an intense emotion, and though he may see new
+things, the others hardly move him; it is not thus he imagined them in
+the years of waiting. And how can he tell what the future may have in
+store; perhaps, notwithstanding all his passionate desires, he will
+indeed never return.</p>
+
+<p>Of course the intention of this book is not to induce people to go to
+Spain: railway journeys are long and tedious, the trains crawl, and the
+hotels are bad. Experienced globe-trotters have told me that all
+mountains are very much alike, and that pictures, when you have seen a
+great many, offer no vast difference. It is much better to read books of
+travel than to travel oneself; he really enjoys foreign lands who never
+goes abroad; and the man who stays at home, preserving his illusions,
+has certainly the best of it. How delightful is the anticipation as he
+looks over time-tables and books of photographs, forming delightful
+images of future pleasure! But the reality is full of disappointment,
+and the more famous the monument the bitterer the disillusion. Has any
+one seen St. Peter's without asking himself: Is that all? And the truest
+enjoyment arises from things that come unexpectedly, that one had never
+heard of. Then, living in a strange land, one loses all impression of
+its strangeness; it is only afterwards, in England, that one realises
+the charm and longs to return; and a hundred pictures rise to fill the
+mind with delight. Why can one not be strong enough to leave it at that
+and never tempt the fates again?</p>
+
+<p>The wisest thing is to leave unvisited in every country some place that
+one wants very much to see. In Italy I have never been to Siena, and in
+Andalusia I have taken pains to avoid Malaga. The guide-books tell me
+there is nothing whatever to see there; and according to them it is
+merely a prosperous sea-port with a good climate. But to me, who have
+never seen it, Malaga is something very different; it is the very cream
+of Andalusia, where every trait and characteristic is refined to perfect
+expression.</p>
+
+<p>I imagine Malaga to be the most smiling town on the seaboard, and it
+lies along the shore ten times more charmingly than Cadiz. The houses
+are white, whiter than in Jerez; the patios are beautiful with oranges
+and palm-trees, and the dark green of the luxuriant foliage contrasts
+with the snowy walls. In Malaga the sky is always blue and the sun
+shines, but the narrow Arab streets are cool and shady. The passionate
+odours of Andalusia float in the air, the perfume of a myriad cigarettes
+and the fresh scent of fruit and flower. The blue sea lazily kisses the
+beach and fishing-boats bask on its bosom.</p>
+
+<p>In Malaga, for me, there are dark churches, with massive, tall pillars;
+the light falls softly through the painted glass, regilding the golden
+woodwork, the angels and the saints and the bishops in their mitres. The
+air is heavy with incense, and women in <i>mantillas</i> kneel in the
+half-light, praying silently. Now and then I come across an old house
+with a fragment of Moorish work, reminding me that here again the Moors
+have left their mark.</p>
+
+<p>And in Malaga, for me, the women are more lovely than in Seville; for
+their dark eyes glitter marvellously, and their lips, so red and soft,
+are ever trembling with a half-formed smile. They are more graceful than
+the daffodils, their hands are lovers' sighs, and their voice is a
+caressing song. (What was your voice like, Rosarito? Alas! it is so long
+ago that I forget.) The men are tall and slender, with strong, clear
+features and shining eyes, deep sunken in their sockets.</p>
+
+<p>In Malaga, for me, life is a holiday in which there are no dullards and
+no bores; all the world is strong and young and full of health, and
+there is nothing to remind one of horrible things. Malaga, I know, is
+the most delightful place in Andalusia. Oh, how refreshing it is to get
+away from sober fact, but what a fool I should be ever to go there!</p>
+
+<p class="tb">The steamer plods on against the wind slowly, and as the land sinks
+away, unsatisfied to leave the impressions hovering vaguely through my
+mind, I try to find the moral. The Englishman, ever somewhat
+sententiously inclined, asks what a place can teach him. The
+churchwarden in his bosom gives no constant, enduring peace; and after
+all, though he may be often ridiculous, it is the churchwarden who has
+made good part of England's greatness.</p>
+
+<p>And most obviously Andalusia suggests that it might not be ill to take
+things a little more easily: we English look upon life so very
+seriously, so much without humour. Is it worth while to be quite so
+strenuous? At the stations on the line between Jerez and Cadiz, I
+noticed again how calmly they took things; people lounged idly talking
+to one another; the officials of the railway smoked their cigarettes; no
+one was in a hurry, time was long, and whether the train arrived late or
+punctual could really matter much to no one. A beggar came to the
+window, a cigarette-end between his lips.</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Caballero!</i> Alms for the love of God for a poor old man. God will
+repay you!'</p>
+
+<p>He passed slowly down the train. It waited for no reason; the passengers
+stared idly at the loungers on the platform, and they stared idly back.
+No one moved except to roll himself a cigarette. The sky was blue and
+the air warm and comforting. Life seemed good enough, and above all
+things easy. There was no particular cause to trouble. What is the use
+of hurrying to pile up money when one can live on so little? What is the
+use of reading these endless books? Why not let things slide a little,
+and just take what comes our way? It is only for a little while, and
+then the great antique mother receives us once more in her bosom. And
+there are so many people in the world. Think again of all the countless
+hordes who have come and gone, and who will come and go; the immense sea
+of Time covers them, and what matters the life they led? What odds is it
+that they ever existed at all? Let us do our best to be happy; the earth
+is good and sweet-smelling, there is sunshine and colour and youth and
+loveliness; and afterwards&mdash;well, let us shrug our shoulders and not
+think of it.</p>
+
+<p>And then in bitter irony, contradicting my moral, a train came in with a
+number of Cuban soldiers. There were above fifty of them, and they had
+to change at the junction. They reached out to open the carriage doors
+and crawled down to the platform. Some of them seemed at death's door;
+they could not walk, and chairs were brought that they might be carried;
+others leaned heavily on their companions. And they were dishevelled,
+with stubbly beards. But what struck me most was the deathly colour; for
+their faces were almost green, while round their sunken eyes were great
+white rings, and the white was ghastly, corpse-like. They trooped along
+in a dazed and listless fashion, wasted with fever, and now and then
+one stopped, shaken with a racking cough; he leaned against the wall,
+and put his hand to his heart as if the pain were unendurable. It was a
+pitiful sight. They were stunted and under-sized; they ceased to develop
+when they went to the cruel island, and they were puny creatures with
+hollow chests and thin powerless limbs; often, strangely enough, their
+faces had remained quite boyish. They were twenty or twenty-two, and
+they looked sixteen. And then, by the sight of those boys who had never
+known youth with its joyful flowers, doomed to a hopeless life, I was
+forced against my will to another moral. Perhaps some would recover, but
+the majority must drag on with ruined health, fever-stricken, dying one
+by one, falling like the unripe fruit of a rotten tree. They had no
+chance, poor wretches! They would return to their miserable homes; they
+could not work, and their people were too poor to keep them&mdash;so they
+must starve. Their lives were even shorter than those of the rest, and
+what pleasure had they had?</p>
+
+<p>And that is the result of the Spanish insouciance&mdash;death and corruption,
+loss of power and land and honour, the ruin of countless lives, and
+absolute decay. It is rather a bitter irony, isn't it? And now all they
+have left is their sunshine and the equanimity which nothing can
+disturb.</p>
+
+<p class="c top15">
+Printed by <span class="smcap">Ballantyne, Hanson &amp; Co.</span><br />
+London &amp; Edinburgh</p>
+
+<div class="box">
+
+<p class="hang">CASTILIAN DAYS. By Hon. <span class="smcap">J. Hay</span>. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Joseph Pennell</span>. In one
+vol., pott 4to, price 10s. net.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">ITALIAN JOURNEYS. By <span class="smcap">W. D. Howells</span>. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Joseph Pennell</span>. In
+one vol., pott 4to, price 10s. net.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">A LITTLE TOUR IN FRANCE. By <span class="smcap">Henry James</span>. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Joseph Pennell</span>.
+In one vol., pott 4to, 10s. net.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">THE COUNTRY OF JESUS. By <span class="smcap">Matilde Serao</span>. In one vol.</p>
+
+<p class="c">
+LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN<br />
+21 <span class="smcap">bedford street</span>. W.C.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Land of The Blessed Virgin;
+Sketches and Impressions in Andalusia, by William Somerset Maugham
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IMPRESSIONS IN ANDALUSIA ***
+
+***** This file should be named 27252-h.htm or 27252-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/2/5/27252/
+
+Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/27252-h/images/001.png b/27252-h/images/001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0ffe24a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27252-h/images/001.png
diff --git a/27252-h/images/002.png b/27252-h/images/002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..96ba7b3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27252-h/images/002.png
diff --git a/27252.txt b/27252.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7d2db6c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27252.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,5692 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Land of The Blessed Virgin; Sketches
+and Impressions in Andalusia, by William Somerset Maugham
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Land of The Blessed Virgin; Sketches and Impressions in Andalusia
+
+Author: William Somerset Maugham
+
+Release Date: November 13, 2008 [EBook #27252]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IMPRESSIONS IN ANDALUSIA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE LAND OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN
+
+SKETCHES AND IMPRESSIONS IN ANDALUSIA
+
+BY
+
+WILLIAM SOMERSET MAUGHAM
+
+(WITH FRONTISPIECE)
+
+LONDON WILLIAM HEINEMANN
+
+MCMV
+
+_All rights reserved_
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+TO
+
+VIOLET HUNT
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+
+I. The Spirit of Andalusia
+
+II. The Churches of Ronda
+
+III. Ronda
+
+IV. The Swineherd
+
+V. Medinat Az-Zahra
+
+VI. The Mosque
+
+VII. The Court of Oranges
+
+VIII. Cordova
+
+IX. The Bridge of Calahorra
+
+X. Puerta del Puente
+
+XI. Seville
+
+XII. The Alcazar
+
+XIII. Calle de las Sierpes
+
+XIV. Characteristics
+
+XV. Don Juan Tenorio
+
+XVI. Women of Andalusia
+
+XVII. The Dance
+
+XVIII. A Feast Day
+
+XIX. The Giralda
+
+XX. The Cathedral of Seville
+
+XXI. The Hospital of Charity
+
+XXII. Gaol
+
+XXIII. Before the Bull-Fight
+
+XXIV. Corrida de Toros--I.
+
+XXV. Corrida de Toros--II
+
+XXVI. On Horseback
+
+XXVII. By the Road--I.
+
+XXVIII. By the Road--II.
+
+XXIX. Ecija
+
+XXX. Wind and Storm
+
+XXXI. Two Villages
+
+XXXII. Granada
+
+XXXIII. The Alhambra
+
+XXXIV. Boabdil the Unlucky
+
+XXXV. Los Pobres
+
+XXXVI. The Song
+
+XXXVII. Jerez
+
+XXXVIII. Cadiz
+
+XXXIX. El Genero Chico
+
+XL. Adios
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+[Sidenote: The Spirit of Andalusia]
+
+
+After one has left a country it is interesting to collect together the
+emotions it has given in an effort to define its particular character.
+And with Andalusia the attempt is especially fascinating, for it is a
+land of contrasts in which work upon one another, diversely, a hundred
+influences.
+
+In London now, as I write, the rain of an English April pours down; the
+sky is leaden and cold, the houses in front of me are almost terrible in
+their monotonous greyness, the slate roofs are shining with the wet. Now
+and again people pass: a woman of the slums in a dirty apron, her head
+wrapped in a grey shawl; two girls in waterproofs, trim and alert
+notwithstanding the inclement weather, one with a music-case under her
+arm. A train arrives at an underground station and a score of city folk
+cross my window, sheltered behind their umbrellas; and two or three
+groups of workmen, silently, smoking short pipes: they walk with a dull,
+heavy tramp, with the gait of strong men who are very tired. Still the
+rain pours down unceasing.
+
+And I think of Andalusia. My mind is suddenly ablaze with its sunshine,
+with its opulent colour, luminous and soft; I think of the cities, the
+white cities bathed in light; of the desolate wastes of sand, with their
+dwarf palms, the broom in flower. And in my ears I hear the twang of the
+guitar, the rhythmical clapping of hands and the castanets, as two girls
+dance in the sunlight on a holiday. I see the crowds going to the
+bull-fight, intensely living, many-coloured. And a thousand scents are
+wafted across my memory; I remember the cloudless nights, the silence of
+sleeping towns, and the silence of desert country; I remember old
+whitewashed taverns, and the perfumed wines of Malaga, of Jerez, and of
+Manzanilla. (The rain pours down without stay in oblique long lines, the
+light is quickly failing, the street is sad and very cheerless.) I feel
+on my shoulder the touch of dainty hands, of little hands with tapering
+fingers, and on my mouth the kisses of red lips, and I hear a joyous
+laugh. I remember the voice that bade me farewell that last night in
+Seville, and the gleam of dark eyes and dark hair at the foot of the
+stairs, as I looked back from the gate. '_Feliz viage, mi Inglesito._'
+
+It was not love I felt for you, Rosarito; I wish it had been; but now
+far away, in the rain, I fancy, (oh no, not that I am at last in love,)
+but perhaps that I am just faintly enamoured--of your recollection.
+
+* * *
+
+But these are all Spanish things, and more than half one's impressions
+of Andalusia are connected with the Moors. Not only did they make
+exquisite buildings, they moulded a whole people to their likeness; the
+Andalusian character is rich with Oriental traits; the houses, the mode
+of life, the very atmosphere is Moorish rather than Christian; to this
+day the peasant at his plough sings the same quavering lament that sang
+the Moor. And it is to the invaders that Spain as a country owes the
+magnificence of its golden age: it was contact with them that gave the
+Spaniards cultivation; it was the conflict of seven hundred years that
+made them the best soldiers in Europe, and masters of half the world.
+The long struggle caused that tension of spirit which led to the
+adventurous descent upon America, teaching recklessness of life and the
+fascination of unknown dangers; and it caused their downfall as it had
+caused their rise, for the religious element in the racial war
+occasioned the most cruel bigotry that has existed on the face of the
+earth, so that the victors suffered as terribly as the vanquished. The
+Moors, hounded out of Spain, took with them their arts and
+handicrafts--as the Huguenots from France after the revocation of the
+Edict of Nantes--and though for a while the light of Spain burnt very
+brightly, the light borrowed from Moordom, the oil jar was broken and
+the lamp flickered out.
+
+* * *
+
+In most countries there is one person in particular who seems to typify
+the race, whose works are the synthesis, as it were, of an entire
+people. Bernini expressed in this manner a whole age of Italian society;
+and even now his spirit haunts you as you read the gorgeous sins of
+Roman noblemen in the pages of Gabriele d'Annunzio. And Murillo, though
+the expert not unjustly from their special point of view, see in him but
+a mediocre artist, in the same way is the very quintessence of Southern
+Spain. Wielders of the brush, occupied chiefly with technique, are apt
+to discern little in an old master, save the craftsman; yet art is no
+more than a link in the chain of life and cannot be sharply sundered
+from the civilisation of which it is an outcome: even Velasquez, sans
+peer, sans parallel, throws a curious light on the world of his day, and
+the cleverest painters would find their knowledge and understanding of
+that great genius the fuller if they were acquainted with the plays of
+Lope de la Vega and the satires of Quevedo. Notwithstanding Murillo's
+obvious faults, as you walk through the museum at Seville all Andalusia
+appears before you. Nothing could be more characteristic than the
+religious feeling of the many pictures, than the exuberant fancy and
+utter lack of idealisation: in the contrast between a Holy Family by
+Murillo and one by Perugino is all the difference between Spain and
+Italy. Murillo's Virgin is a peasant girl such as you may see in any
+village round Seville on a feast-day; her emotions are purely human, and
+in her face is nothing more than the intense love of a mother for her
+child. But the Italian shows a creature not of earth, an angelic maid
+with almond eyes, oval of face: she has a strange air of unrealness, for
+her body is not of human flesh and blood, and she is linked with mankind
+only by an infinite sadness; she seems to see already the Dolorous Way,
+and her eyes are heavy with countless unwept tears.
+
+One picture especially, that which the painter himself thought his best
+work, _Saint Thomas of Villanueva distributing Alms_, to my mind offers
+the entire impression of that full life of Andalusia. In the splendour
+of mitre and of pastoral staff, in the sober magnificence of
+architecture, is all the opulence of the Catholic Church; in the worn,
+patient, ascetic face of the saint is the mystic, fervid piety which
+distinguished so wonderfully the warlike and barbarous Spain of the
+sixteenth century; and lastly, in the beggars covered with sores, pale,
+starving, with their malodorous rags, you feel strangely the swarming
+poverty of the vast population, downtrodden and vivacious, which you
+read of in the picaresque novels of a later day. And these same
+characteristics, the deep religious feeling, the splendour, the poverty,
+the extreme sense of vigorous life, the discerning may find even now
+among the Andalusians for all the modern modes with which, as with coats
+of London and bonnets of Paris, they have sought to liken themselves to
+the rest of Europe.
+
+And the colours of Murillo's palette are the typical colours of
+Andalusia, rich, hot, and deep--again contrasting with the enamelled
+brilliance of the Umbrians. He seems to have charged his brush with the
+very light and atmosphere of Seville; the country bathed in the
+splendour of an August sun has just the luminous character, the haziness
+of contour, which characterise the paintings of Murillo's latest manner.
+They say he adopted the style termed _vaporoso_ for greater rapidity of
+execution, but he cannot have lived all his life in that radiant
+atmosphere without being impregnated with it. In Andalusia there is a
+quality of the air which gives all things a limpid, brilliant softness,
+the sea of gold poured out upon them voluptuously rounds away their
+outlines; and one can well imagine that the master deemed it the
+culmination of his art when he painted with the same aureate effulgence,
+when he put on canvas those gorgeous tints and that exquisite
+mellowness.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+[Sidenote: The Churches of Ronda]
+
+
+That necessity of realism which is, perhaps, the most conspicuous of
+Spanish traits, shows itself nowhere more obviously than in matters
+religious. It is a very listless emotion that is satisfied with the
+shadow of the ideal; and the belief of the Andaluz is an intensely
+living thing, into which he throws himself with a vehemence that
+requires the nude and brutal fact. His saints must be fashioned after
+his own likeness, for he has small power of make-believe, and needs all
+manner of substantial accessories to establish his faith. But then he
+treats the images as living persons, and it never occurs to him to pray
+to the Saint in Paradise while kneeling before his presentment upon
+earth. The Spanish girl at the altar of _Mater Dolorosa_ prays to a
+veritable woman, able to speak if so she wills, able to descend from the
+golden shrine to comfort the devout worshipper. To her nothing is more
+real than these Madonnas, with their dark eyes and their abundant hair:
+_Maria del Pilar_, who is Mary of the Fountain, _Maria del Rosario_, who
+is Mary of the Rosary, _Maria de los Dolores_, _Maria del Carmen_,
+_Maria de los Angeles_. And they wear magnificent gowns of brocade and
+of cloth-of-gold, mantles heavily embroidered, shoes, rings on their
+fingers, rich jewels about their necks.
+
+In a little town like Ronda, so entirely apart from the world,
+poverty-stricken, this desire for realism makes a curiously strong
+impression. The churches, coated with whitewash, are squalid, cold and
+depressing; and at first sight the row of images looks nothing more than
+a somewhat vulgar exhibition of wax-work. But presently, as I lingered,
+the very poverty of it all touched me; and forgetting the grotesqueness,
+I perceived that some of the saints in their elaborate dresses were
+quite charming and graceful. In the church of _Santa Maria la Mayor_ was
+a Saint Catherine in rich habiliments of red brocade, with a white
+_mantilla_ arranged as only a Spanish woman could arrange it. She might
+have been a young gentlewoman of fifty years back when costume was gayer
+than nowadays, arrayed for a fashionable wedding or for a bull-fight.
+And in another church I saw a youthful Saint in priest's robes, a
+cassock of black silk and a short surplice of exquisite lace; he held a
+bunch of lilies in his hand and looked very gently, his lips almost
+trembling to a smile. One can imagine that not to them would come the
+suppliant with a heavy despair, they would be merely pained at their
+helplessness before the tears of the grief that kills and the woe of
+mothers sorrowing for their sons. But when the black-eyed maiden knelt
+before the priest, courtly and debonair, begging him to send a husband
+quickly, his lips surely would control themselves no longer, and his
+smile would set the damsel's cheek a-blushing. And if a youth knelt
+before Saint Catherine in her dainty _mantilla_, and vowed his heart was
+breaking because his love gave him stony glances, she would look very
+graciously upon him, so that his courage was restored, and he promised
+her a silver heart as lovers in Greece made votive offerings to
+Aphrodite.
+
+At the Church of the _Espirito Santo_, in a little chapel behind one of
+the transept altars, I saw, through a huge rococo frame of gilded wood,
+a _Maria de los Dolores_ that was almost terrifying in poignant realism.
+She wore a robe of black damask, which stood as if it were cast of
+bronze in heavy, austere folds, a velvet cloak decorated with the old
+lace known as _rose point d'Espagne_; and on her head a massive imperial
+diadem, and a golden aureole. Seven candles burned before her; and at
+vespers, when the church was nearly dark, they threw a cold, sharp light
+upon her countenance. Her eyes were in deep shadow, strangely
+mysterious, and they made the face, so small beneath the pompous crown,
+horribly life-like: you could not see the tears, but you felt they were
+eyes which would never cease from weeping.
+
+I suppose it was all tawdry and vulgar and common, but a woman knelt in
+front of the Mother of Sorrows, praying, a poor woman in a ragged shawl;
+I heard a sob, and saw that she was weeping; she sought to restrain
+herself and in the effort a tremor passed through her body, and she drew
+the shawl more closely round her.
+
+I walked away, and came presently to the most cruel of all these images.
+It was a _Pieta_. The Mother held on her knees the dead Son, looking in
+His face, and it was a ghastly contrast between her royal array and His
+naked body. She, too, wore the imperial crown, with its golden aureole,
+and her cloak was of damask embroidered with heavy gold. Her hair fell
+in curling abundance about her breast, and the sacristan told me it was
+the hair of a lady who had lost her husband and her only son. But the
+dead Christ was terrible, His face half hidden by the long straight
+hair, long as a woman's, and His body thin and all discoloured: from the
+wounds thick blood poured out, and their edges were swollen and red; the
+broken knees, the feet and hands, were purple and green with the
+beginning of putrefaction.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+[Sidenote: Ronda]
+
+
+Ronda is set deep among the mountains between Algeciras and Seville;
+they hem it in on all sides, and it straggles up and down little hills,
+timidly, as though its presence were an affront to the wild rocks around
+it. The houses are huddled against the churches, which look like portly
+hens squatting with ruffled feathers, while their chicks, for warmth,
+press up against them. It is very cold in Ronda. I saw it first quite
+early: over the town hung a grey mist shining in the sunlight, and the
+mountains, opalescent in the morning glow, were so luminous that they
+seemed hardly solid; they looked as if one could walk through them. The
+people, covering their mouths in dread of a _pulmonia_, hastened by,
+closely muffled in long cloaks. As I passed the open doors I saw them
+standing round the _brasero_, warming themselves; for fireplaces are
+unknown to Andalusia, the only means of heat being the _copa_, a round
+brass dish in which is placed burning charcoal.
+
+The height and the cold give Ronda a character which reminds one of
+Northern Spain; the roofs are quite steep, the houses low and small,
+built for warmth rather than, as in the rest of Andalusia, for
+coolness.
+
+But the whitewash and the barred windows with their wooden lattice-work,
+remind you that you are in Moorish country, in the very heart of it; and
+Ronda, indeed, figures in chronicles and in old ballads as a stronghold
+of the invaders. The temperature affects the habits of the people, even
+their appearance: there is no lounging about the squares or at the doors
+of wine-shops, the streets are deserted and their great breadth makes
+the emptiness more apparent. The first setters out of the town had no
+need to make the ways narrow for the sake of shade, and they are, in
+fact, so broad that the houses on either side might be laid on their
+faces, and there would still be room for the rapid stream which hurries
+down the middle.
+
+The conformation of a Spanish town, even though it lack museums and fine
+buildings, gives it an interest beyond that of most European places. The
+Moorish design is always evident. That wise people laid out the streets
+as was most convenient, tortuous and narrow at Cordova or broad as a
+king's highway in Ronda. The Moors stayed their time, and their hour
+struck, and they went; the houses had fallen to decay and been more than
+once rebuilt. The Christians returned and Mahomet fled before the
+Saints; (it was no shame since they grossly out-numbered him;) the
+mosque was made a church, and the houses as they fell were built again,
+but on the same foundations and in the same way. The streets have
+remained as the Moors left them, the houses still are built round little
+courtyards--the _patio_--as the Moors built them; and the windows are
+barred and latticed as of old, the better to protect beauty whose dark
+eyes flash too meaningly at wandering strangers, whose red lips are over
+ready to break into a smile for the peace of an absent husband.
+
+* * *
+
+After the busy clamour of Gibraltar, that ant-nest of a hundred
+nationalities, Ronda impresses you by its peculiar silence. The lack of
+sound is the more noticeable in the frosty clearness of the atmosphere,
+and is only emphasised by an occasional cry that floats, from some vast
+distance, along the air. The coldness, too, has pinched the features of
+the people, and they seem to grow old even earlier than in the rest of
+Andalusia. Strapping fellows of thirty with slim figures and a youthful
+air have the faces of elderly men, and their skin is hard, stained and
+furrowed. The women, ageing as rapidly, have no gaiety. If Spanish girls
+have frequently a beautiful youth, their age too often is atrocious: it
+is inconceivable that a handsome woman should become so fearful a hag;
+the luxuriant hair is lost, and she takes no pains to conceal her grey
+baldness, the eye loses its light, the enchanting down of the upper lip
+turns to a bristly moustache; the features harden, grow coarse and
+vulgar; and the countenance assumes a rapacious expression, so that she
+appears a bird of prey; and her strident voice is like the shriek of
+vultures. It is easily comprehensible that the Spanish stage should have
+taken the old woman as one of its most constant, characteristic types.
+But in Ronda even the girls have a weary look, as though life were not
+so easy a matter as in warmer places, or as the good God intended; and
+they seem to suffer from the brevity of youth, which is no sooner come
+than gone. They walk inertly, clothed in sombre colours, their hair not
+elaborately arranged as would have it the poorest cigarette-girl, but
+merely knotted, without the flower which the Sevillan is popularly said
+to insist upon even at the cost of a dinner. And when they go out the
+grey shawls they wrap about their heads add to their unattractiveness.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+[Sidenote: The Swineherd]
+
+
+But if Ronda itself is a somewhat dull and unsympathetic place with
+nothing more for the edification of the visitor than a melodramatic
+chasm, the surrounding country is worthy the most extravagant epithets.
+The mountains have the gloomy barrenness, the slate-grey colour of
+volcanic ranges; they encircle the town in a gigantic amphitheatre,
+rugged and overbearing like Titans turned to stone. They seem, indeed,
+to wear a sombre insolence of demeanour as though the aspect of human
+kind moved them to lofty contempt. And in their magnificent desolation
+they offer a fit environment for the exploits of Byronic heroes. The
+handsome villain of romance, seductive by the complexity of his
+emotions, by the persistence of his mysterious grief, would find himself
+in that theatrical scene most thoroughly at home; nor did Prosper
+Merimee fail to seize the opportunity, for the mountains of Ronda were
+the very hunting-ground of Don Jose, who lost his soul for Carmen. But
+as a matter of history they were likewise the haunts of brigands in
+flesh and blood--malefactors in the past had that sense of the
+picturesque which now is vested in the amateur photographer--and this
+particular district was as dangerous to the travelling merchant as any
+in Spain.
+
+The environs of Ronda are barren and unfertile, the olive groves bear
+little fruit. I wandered through the lonely country, towards the
+mountains; the day was overcast and the clouds hung sluggishly overhead.
+As I walked, suddenly I heard a melancholy voice singing a peasant song,
+a _malaguena_. I paused to listen, but the sadness was almost
+unendurable; and it went on interminably, wailing through the air with
+the insistent monotony of its Moorish origin. I struck into the olives
+to find the singer and met a swineherd, guarding a dozen brown pigs, a
+youth thin of face, with dark eyes, clothed in undressed sheep-skins;
+and the brown wool gave him a singular appearance of community with the
+earth about him. He stood among the trees like a wild creature, more
+beast than man, and the lank, busy pigs burrowed around him, running to
+and fro, with little squeals. He ceased his song when I approached and
+looked up timidly. I spoke to him but he made no answer, I offered a
+cigarette but he shook his head.
+
+I went my way, and at first the road was not quite solitary. Two men
+passed me on donkeys. '_Vaya Usted con Dios!_' they cried--'Go you with
+God': it is the commonest greeting in Spain, and the most charming; the
+roughest peasant calls it as you meet him. A dozen grey asses went
+towards Ronda, one after the other, their panniers filled with stones;
+they walked with hanging heads, resigned to all their pain. But when at
+last I came into the mountains the loneliness was terrible. Not even
+the olive grew on those dark masses of rock, windswept and sterile;
+there was not a hut nor a cottage to testify of man's existence, not
+even a path such as the wild things of the heights might use. All life,
+indeed, appeared incongruous with that overwhelming solitude.
+
+Daylight was waning as I returned, but when I passed the olive-grove,
+where many hours before I had heard the _malaguena_, the same monotonous
+song still moaned along the air, carrying back my thoughts to the
+swineherd. I wondered what he thought of while he sang, whether the sad
+words brought him some dim emotion. How curious was the life he led! I
+suppose he had never travelled further than his native town; he could
+neither write nor read. Madrid to him was a city where the streets were
+paved with silver and the King's palace was of fine gold. He was born
+and grew to manhood and tended his swine, and some day he would marry
+and beget children, and at length die and return to the Mother of all
+things. It seemed to me that nowadays, when civilisation has become the
+mainstay of our lives, it is only with such beings as these that it is
+possible to realise the closeness of the tie between mankind and nature.
+To the poor herdsman still clung the soil; he was no foreign element in
+the scene, but as much part of it as the stunted olives, belonging to
+the earth intimately as the trees among which he stood, as the beasts he
+tended.
+
+* * *
+
+When I came near the town the sun was setting. In the west, tempestuous
+clouds were massed upon one another, and the sun shone blood-red above
+them; but as it sank they were riven asunder, and I saw a great furnace
+that lit up the whole sky. The mountains were purple, unreal as the
+painted mountains of a picture. The light was gone from the east, and
+there everything was chill and grey; the barren rocks looked so desolate
+that one shuddered with horror of the cold. But the sun fell gold and
+red, and the rift in the clouds was a kingdom of gorgeous light; the
+earth and its petty inhabitants died away, and in the crimson flame I
+could almost see Lucifer standing in his glory, god-like and young;
+Lucifer in all majesty, surrounded by his court of archangels,
+Beelzebub, Belial, Moloch, Abaddon.
+
+* * *
+
+I had discovered in the morning, from the steeple of _Santa Maria_, a
+queer ruined church, and was oddly impressed by the bare facade, with
+the yawning apertures of empty windows. I went to it, but every entrance
+was bricked up save one, which had a door of rough boards fastened by a
+padlock; and in a neighbouring house I found an old man with a key. It
+was a spot of utter desolation; the roof had gone or had never been. The
+custodian could not tell whether the church was the wreck of an old
+building or a framework that had never been completed; the walls were
+falling to decay. Along the nave and in the chapels trees were growing,
+shrubs and rank weeds; it was curious the utter ruin in the midst of the
+populous town. Pigs ran hither and thither, feeding, with noisy grunts,
+as they burrowed about the crumbling altar.
+
+The old man inquired whether I wished to buy the absolute uselessness
+of the place fascinated me. I asked the price. He looked me up and down,
+and seeing I was foreign, suggested a ridiculous sum. And while I amused
+myself with bargaining, I wondered what on earth one could do with a
+ruined church in Ronda. Half a dozen fantastic notions passed through my
+mind, but they were really too melodramatic.
+
+And now when the sun had set I returned. Notwithstanding his suspicions,
+I induced the keeper to give me his key; he could not understand what I
+desired at such an hour in that solitary place, and asked if I wished to
+sleep there! But I calmed his fears with a _peseta_--money goes a long
+way in Spain--and went in alone. The pigs had been removed and all was
+silent. A few bats flitted to and fro quickly. The light fell away
+greyly, the cold descended on the ruin, and it became very strange and
+mysterious. Presently, the roofless chapels seemed to grow alive with
+weird invisible things, the rank weeds exhaled chill odours; and in the
+lonely silence a mass began. At the ruined altar ghostly priests
+officiated, passing quietly from side to side, with bows and
+genuflections. The bell tinkled as they raised an invisible host. Soon
+it became quite dark, and the moon shone through the great empty windows
+of the facade.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+[Sidenote: Medinat Az-Zahra]
+
+
+In what you divine rather than in what you see lies half the charm of
+Andalusia, in the suggestion of all manner of delicate antique things,
+in the vivid memory of past grandeur. The Moors have gone, but still
+they inhabit the land in spirit and not seldom in a spectral way seem to
+regain their old dominion. Often towards evening, as I rode through the
+desolate country, I thought I saw an half-naked Moor ploughing his
+field, urging the lazy oxen with a long goad. Often the Spaniard on his
+horse vanished, and I saw a Muslim knight riding in pride and glory, his
+velvet cloak bespattered with the gold initial of his lady, and her
+favour fluttering from his lance. Once near Granada, standing on a hill,
+I watched the blood-red sun set tempestuously over the plain; and
+presently in the distance the gnarled olive-trees seemed living beings,
+and I saw contending hosts, two ghostly armies silently battling with
+one another; I saw the flash of scimitars, and the gleam of standards,
+the whiteness of the turbans. They fought with horrible carnage, and the
+land was crimson with their blood. Then the sun fell below the horizon,
+and all again was still and lifeless.
+
+And what can be more fascinating than that magic city of Az-Zahra, the
+wonder of its age, of which now not a stone remains? It was made to
+satisfy the whim of a concubine by a Sultan whose flamboyant passion
+moved him to displace mountains for the sake of his beloved; and the
+memory thereof is lost so completely that even its situation till lately
+was uncertain. Az-Zahra the Fairest said to Abd-er-Rahm[=a]n, her lord:
+'Raise me a city that shall take my name and be mine.' The Khalif built
+at the foot of the mountain which is called the Hill of the Bride; but
+when at last the lady, from the great hall of the palace, gazed at the
+snow-white city contrasting with the dark mountain, she remarked: 'See,
+O Master! how beautiful this girl looks in the arms of yonder
+Ethiopian.' The jealous Khalif immediately commanded the removal of the
+offending hill; and when he was convinced the task was impossible,
+ordered that the oaks and other mountain trees which grew upon it should
+be uprooted, and fig-trees and almonds planted in their stead.
+
+Imagine the _Hall of the Khalif_, with walls of transparent and
+many-coloured marble, with roof of gold; on each side were eight doors
+fixed upon arches of ivory and ebony, ornamented with precious metals
+and with precious stones; and when the sun penetrated them, the
+reflection of its rays upon the roof and walls was sufficient to deprive
+the beholders of sight! In the centre was a great basin filled with
+quicksilver, and the Sultan, wishing to terrify a courtier, would cause
+the metal to be set in motion, whereupon the apartment would seem
+traversed by flashes of lightning, and all the company would fall
+a-trembling.
+
+The old author tells of running streams and of limpid water, of stately
+buildings for the household guards, and magnificent palaces for the
+reception of high functionaries of state; of the thronging soldiers,
+pages, eunuchs, slaves, of all nations and of all religions, in
+sumptuous habiliments of silk and of brocade; of judges, theologians,
+and poets, walking with becoming gravity in the ample courts.... Alas!
+that poets now should rush through Fleet Street with unseemly haste,
+attired uncouthly in bowler hats and in preposterous tweeds!
+
+* * *
+
+From the celebrated legend of Roderick the Goth to that last scene when
+Boabdil handed the keys of Granada to King Ferdinand, the history of the
+Moorish occupation reads far more like romance than like sober fact. It
+is rich with every kind of passionate incident; it has all the strange
+vicissitudes of oriental history. What career could be more wonderful
+than that of Almanzor, who began life as a professional letter-writer,
+(a calling which you may still see exercised in the public places of
+Madrid or Seville,) and ended it as absolute ruler of an Empire! His
+charm of manner, his skill in flattery, the military genius which he
+developed when occasion called, his generosity and sense of justice, his
+love of literature and art, make him a figure to be contemplated with
+admiration; and when you add his utter lack of scruple, his selfishness,
+his ingratitude, his perfidy, you have a character complex enough to
+satisfy the most exacting.
+
+Those who would read of these things may find an admirable account in
+Mr. Lane-Poole's _Moors in Spain_; but I cannot renounce the pleasure of
+giving one characteristic detail. After the death of Abd-er-Rahm[=a]n,
+the builder of that magnificent city of Az-Zahra, a paper was found in
+his own handwriting, upon which he had noted those days in his long
+reign which had been free from all sorrow: they numbered fourteen.
+Sovereign lord of a country than which there is on earth none more
+delightful, his life had been of uninterrupted prosperity; success in
+peace and war attended him always; he possessed everything that it was
+possible for man to have. These are the observations of Al Makkary, the
+Arabic historian, when he narrates the incident:
+
+_O man of understanding! Wonder and observe the small portion of real
+happiness the world affords even in the most enviable position. Praise
+be given to Him, the Lord of eternal glory and everlasting empire! There
+is no God but He the Almighty, the Giver of Empire to whomsoever He
+pleases._
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+[Sidenote: The Mosque]
+
+
+But Cordova, from which Az-Zahra was about four miles distant, has
+visible delights that can vie with its neighbour's vanished pomp. I know
+nothing that can give a more poignant emotion than the interior of the
+mosque at Cordova; and yet I remember well the splendour of barbaric and
+oriental magnificence which was my first sight of St. Mark's at Venice,
+as I came abruptly from the darkness of an alley into the golden light
+of the Piazza. But to me at least the famous things of Italy, known from
+childhood in picture and in description, afford more than anything a
+joyful sense of recognition, a feeling as it were of home-coming, such
+as may hope to experience the devout Christian on entering upon his
+heritage in the Kingdom of Heaven. The mosque of Cordova is oriental and
+barbaric too; but I had never seen nor imagined anything in the least
+resembling it; there was no disillusionment possible, as too often in
+Italy, for the accounts I had read prepared me not at all for that
+overwhelming impression. It was so weird and strange, I felt myself
+transported suddenly to another world.
+
+They were singing Vespers when I entered, and I heard the shrill voices
+of choristers crying the responses; it did not sound like Christian
+music. The mosque was dimly lit, the air heavy with incense; and I saw
+this forest of pillars, extending every way, as far as the eye could
+reach. It was mysterious and awe-inspiring as those enchanted forests of
+one's childhood in which huge trees grew in serried masses and where in
+cavernous darkness goblins and giants of the fairy-tales, wild beasts
+and monstrous shapes, lay in wait for the terrified traveller who had
+lost his way. I wandered, keeping the Christian chapels out of sight,
+trying to lose myself among the columns; and now and then gained views
+of horseshoe arches interlacing, decorated with Moorish tracery.
+
+At length I came to the _Mihrab_, which is the Holy of Holies, the most
+exquisite as well as the most sacred part of the mosque. It is
+approached by a vestibule of which the roof is a miracle of grace, with
+mosaics that glow like precious stones, ultramarine, scarlet, emerald,
+and gold. The arch between the chambers is ornamented with four pillars
+of coloured marble, and again with mosaic, the gold letters of an Arabic
+inscription forming on the deep sapphire of the background a decorative
+pattern. The _Mihrab_ itself, which contained the famous Koran of
+Othman, has seven sides of white marble, and the roof is a huge shell
+cut from a single block.
+
+I tried to picture to myself the mosque before the Christians laid their
+desecrating hands upon it. The floor was of coloured tiles, tiles such
+as may still be seen in the Alhambra of Granada and in the Alcazar at
+Seville. The columns are of marble, of porphyry and jasper; tradition
+says they came from Carthage, from pagan temples in France and Christian
+churches in Spain; they are slender and unadorned, they must have
+contrasted astonishingly with the roof of larch wood, all ablaze with
+gold and with vermilion.
+
+There were three hundred chandeliers; and eight thousand lamps--cast of
+Christian bells--hung from the roof. The Arab writer tells of gold
+shining from the ceiling like fire, blazing like lightning when it darts
+across the clouds. The pulpit, wherein was kept the Koran, was of ivory
+and of exquisite woods, of ebony and sandal, of plantain, citron and
+aloe, fastened together with gold and silver nails and encrusted with
+priceless gems. It needed six Khalifs and Almanzor, the great Vizier, to
+complete the mosque of which Arab writers, with somewhat prosaic
+enthusiasm, said that 'in all the lands of Islam there was none of equal
+size, none more admirable in its workmanship, in its construction and
+durability.'
+
+* * *
+
+Then the Christians conquered Cordova, and the charming civilisation of
+the Moors was driven out by monks and priests and soldiers. First they
+built only chapels in the outermost aisles; but in a little while, to
+make room for a choir, they destroyed six rows of columns; and at last,
+when Master Martin Luther had rekindled Catholic piety, they set up a
+great church in the very middle of the mosque. The story of this
+vandalism is somewhat quaint, and one detail at least affords a
+suggestion that might prove useful in the present time; for the Town
+Council of Cordova menaced with death all who should assist in the work:
+one imagines that a similar threat from the Lord Mayor of London might
+have a salutary effect upon the restorers of Westminster Abbey or the
+decorators of St. Paul's. How very much more entertaining must have been
+the world when absolutism was the fashion and the preposterous method of
+universal suffrage had never been considered! But the Chapter, as those
+in power always are, was bent upon restoring, and induced Charles V. to
+give the necessary authority. The king, however, had not understood what
+they wished to do, and when later he visited Cordova and saw what had
+happened, he turned to the dignitaries who were pointing out the
+improvements and said: 'You have built what you or others might have
+built anywhere, but you have destroyed something that was unique in the
+world.' The words show a fine scorn; but as a warning to later
+generations it would have been more to the purpose to cut off a dozen
+priestly heads.
+
+Yet oddly enough the Christian additions are not so utterly discordant
+as one would expect! Hernan Ruiz did the work well, even though it was
+work he might conveniently have been drawn and quartered for doing.
+Typically Spanish in its fine proportion, in its exuberance of fantastic
+decoration, his church is a masterpiece of plateresque architecture. Nor
+are the priests entirely out of harmony with the building wherein they
+worship. For an hour they had sung Vespers, and the deep voices of the
+canons, chaunting monotonously, rang weird and long among the columns;
+but they finished, and left the choir one by one, walking silently
+across the church to the sacristy. The black cassock and the scarlet
+hood made a fine contrast, while the short cambric surplice added to the
+costume a most delicate grace. One of them paused to speak with two
+ladies in _mantillas_, and the three made a picturesque group,
+suggesting all manner of old Spanish romance.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+[Sidenote: The Court of Oranges]
+
+
+I went into the cathedral from the side and issuing by another door,
+found myself in the Court of Oranges. The setting sun touched it with
+warm light and overhead the sky was wonderfully blue. In Moorish times
+the mosque was separated from the court by no dividing-wall, so that the
+arrangement of pillars within was continued by the even lines of
+orange-trees; these are of great age and size, laden with fruit, and in
+their copious foliage stand with a trim self-assurance that is quite
+imposing.
+
+In the centre, round a fountain into which poured water from jets at the
+four corners, stood a number of persons with jars of earthenware and
+bright copper cans. One girl held herself with the fine erectness of a
+Caryatid, while her jar, propped against the side, filled itself with
+the cold, sparkling water. A youth, some vessel in his hand, leaned over
+in an attitude of easy grace; and looking into her eyes, appeared to pay
+compliments, which she heard with superb indifference. A little boy ran
+up, and the girl held aside her jar while he put his mouth to the spout
+and drank. Then, as it overflowed, she lifted it with comely motion to
+her head and slowly walked away.
+
+By now the canons had unrobed, and several strolled about the court in
+the sun, smoking cigarettes. The acolytes with the removal of their
+scarlet cassocks, were become somewhat ragged urchins playing pitch and
+toss with much gesture and vociferation. Two of them quarrelled fiercely
+because one player would not yield the halfpenny he had certainly lost,
+and the altercation must have ended in blows if a corpulent, elderly
+cleric had not indignantly reproved them, and boxed their ears. A row of
+tattered beggars, very well contented in the sunshine, were seated on a
+step, likewise smoking cigarettes, and obviously they did not consider
+their walk of life unduly hard.
+
+And the thought impressed itself upon me while I lingered in that
+peaceful spot, that there was far more to be said for the simple
+pleasures of sense than northern folk would have us believe. The English
+have still much of that ancient puritanism which finds a vague
+sinfulness in the uncostly delights of sunshine, and colour, and ease of
+mind. It is well occasionally to leave the eager turmoil of great cities
+for such a place as this, where one may learn that there are other, more
+natural ways of living, that it is possible still to spend long days,
+undisturbed by restless passion, without regret or longing, content in
+the various show that nature offers, asking only that the sun should
+shine and the happy seasons run their course.
+
+An English engineer whom I had seen at the hotel, approaching me,
+expressed the idea in his own graphic manner. 'Down here there are a
+good sight more beer and skittles in life than up in Sheffield!'
+
+One canon especially interested me, a little thin man, bent and
+wrinkled, apparently of fabulous age, but still something of a dandy,
+for he wore his clothes with a certain air, as though half a century
+before, byronically, he had been quite a devil with the ladies. The
+silver buckle on his shoes was most elegant, and he protruded his foot
+as though the violet silk of his stocking gave him a discreet pleasure.
+To the very backbone he was an optimist, finding existence evidently so
+delightful that it did not even need rose-coloured spectacles. He was an
+amiable old man, perhaps a little narrow, but very indulgent to the
+follies of others. He had committed no sin himself--for many years: a
+suspicion of personal vanity is in itself proof of a pure and gentle
+mind; and as for the sins of others--they were probably not heinous, and
+at all events would gain forgiveness. The important thing, surely, was
+to be sound in dogma. The day wore on and the sun now shone only in a
+narrow space; and this the canon perambulated, smoking the end of a
+cigarette, the delectable frivolity of which contrasted pleasantly with
+his great age. He nodded affably to other priests as they passed, a pair
+of young men, and one obese old creature with white hair and an
+expression of comfortable self-esteem. He removed his hat with a great
+and courteous sweep when a lady of his acquaintance crossed his path.
+The priests basking in the warmth were like four great black cats. It
+was indeed a pleasant spot, and contentment oozed into one by every
+pore. The canon rolled himself another cigarette, smiling as he inhaled
+the first sweet whiffs; and one could not but think the sovereign herb
+must greatly ease the journey along the steep and narrow way which leads
+to Paradise. The smoke rose into the air lazily, and the old cleric
+paused now and again to look at it, the little smile of
+self-satisfaction breaking on his lips.
+
+Up in the North, under the cold grey sky, God Almighty may be a hard
+taskmaster, and the Kingdom of Heaven is attained only by much
+endeavour; but in Cordova these things come more easily. The aged priest
+walks in the sun and smokes his _cigarillo_. Heaven is not such an
+inaccessible place after all. Evidently he feels that he has done his
+duty--with the help of Havana tobacco--in that state of life wherein it
+has pleased a merciful providence to place him; and St. Peter would
+never be so churlish as to close the golden gates in the face of an
+ancient canon who sauntered to them jauntily, with the fag end of a
+cigarette in the corner of his mouth. Let us cultivate our cabbages in
+the best of all possible worlds; and afterwards--_Dieu pardonnera; c'est
+son metier_.
+
+* * *
+
+Three months later in the _Porvenir_, under the heading, 'Suicide of a
+Priest,' I read that one of these very canons of the Cathedral at
+Cordova had shot himself. A report was heard, said the journal, and the
+Civil Guard arriving, found the man prostrate with blood pouring from
+his ear, a revolver by his side. He was transported to the hospital, the
+sacrament administered, and he died. In his pockets they found a
+letter, a pawn-ticket, a woman's bracelet, and some peppermint lozenges.
+He was thirty-five years old. The newspaper moralised as follows: 'When
+even the illustrious order to which the defunct belonged is tainted with
+such a crime, it is well to ask whither tends the incredulity of society
+which finds an end to its sufferings in the barrel of a revolver. Let
+moralists and philosophers combat with all their might this dreadful
+tendency; let them make even the despairing comprehend that death is not
+the highest good but the passage to an unknown world where, according to
+Christian belief, the ill deeds of this existence are punished and the
+virtuous rewarded.'
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+[Sidenote: Cordova]
+
+
+Ronda, owing its peculiarities to the surrounding mountains, was not
+really very characteristic of the country, and might equally well have
+been an highland townlet in any part of Southern Europe. But Cordova
+offers immediately the full sensation of Andalusia. It is absolutely a
+Moorish city, white and taciturn, so that you are astonished to meet
+people in European dress rather than Arabs, in shuffling yellow
+slippers. The streets are curiously silent; for the carriage, as in
+Tangiers, is done by mules and donkeys, which walk so quietly that you
+never hear them. Sometimes you are warned by a deep-voiced '_Cuidado_,'
+but more often a pannier brushing you against the wall brings the first
+knowledge of their presence. On looking up you are again surprised to
+see not a great shining negro in a burnouse, but a Spaniard in tight
+trousers, with a broad-brimmed hat.
+
+And Cordova has that sweet, exhilarating perfume of Andalusia than which
+nothing gives more vividly the complete feeling of the country. Those
+travellers must be obtuse of nostril who do not recognise different
+smells, grateful or offensive, in different places; no other peculiarity
+is more distinctive, so that an odour crossing by chance one's sense is
+able to recall suddenly all the complicated impressions of a strange
+land. When I return from England it is always that subtle fragrance
+which first strikes me, a mingling in warm sunlight of orange-blossom,
+incense, and cigarette smoke; and two whiffs of a certain brand of
+tobacco are sufficient to bring back to me Seville, the most enchanting
+of all my memories. I suppose that nowhere else are cigarettes consumed
+so incessantly; for in Andalusia it is not only certain classes who use
+them, but every one, without distinction of age or station--from the
+ragamuffin selling lottery-tickets in the street to the portly, solemn
+priest, to the burly countryman, the shop-keeper, the soldier. After
+all, no better means of killing time have ever been devised, and
+consequently to smoke them affords an occupation which most thoroughly
+suits the Spaniard.
+
+* * *
+
+I looked at Cordova from the bell-tower of the cathedral. The roofs,
+very lovely in their diversity of colour, were of rounded tiles, fading
+with every variety of delicate shade from russet and brown to yellow and
+the tenderest green. From the courtyards, here and there, rose a tall
+palm, or an orange-tree, like a dash of jade against the brilliant sun.
+The houses, plainly whitewashed, have from the outside so mean a look
+that it is surprising to find them handsome and spacious within. They
+are built, Moorish fashion, round a _patio_, which in Cordova at least
+is always gay with flowers. When you pass the iron gates and note the
+contrast between the snowy gleaming of the street and that southern
+greenery, the suggestion is inevitable of charming people who must rest
+there in the burning heat of summer. With those surroundings and in such
+a country passion grows surely like a poisonous plant. At night, in the
+starry darkness, how irresistible must be the flashing eyes of love, how
+eloquent the pleading of whispered sighs! But woe to the maid who admits
+the ardent lover among the orange-trees, her head reeling with the sweet
+intoxication of the blossom; for the Spanish gallant is fickle, quick to
+forget the vows he spoke so earnestly: he soon grows tired of kissing,
+and mounting his horse, rides fast away.
+
+The uniformity of lime-washed houses makes Cordova the most difficult
+place in the world wherein to find your way. The streets are exactly
+alike, so narrow that a carriage could hardly pass, paved with rough
+cobbles, and tortuous: their intricacy is amazing, labyrinthine; they
+wind in and out of one another, leading nowhither; they meander on for
+half a mile and stop suddenly, or turn back, so that you are forced to
+go in the direction you came. You may wander for hours, trying to find
+some point that from the steeple appeared quite close. Sometimes you
+think they are interminable.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+[Sidenote: The Bridge of Calahorra]
+
+
+The bridge that the Moors built over the Guadalquivir straggles across
+the water with easy arches. Somewhat dilapidated and very beautiful, it
+has not the strenuous look of such things in England, and the mere sight
+of it fills you with comfort. The clustered houses, with an added
+softness from the light burning mellow on their roofs and on their white
+walls, increase the happy impression that the world is not necessarily
+hurried and toilful. And the town, separated from the river by no formal
+embankment, lounges at the water's edge like a giant, prone on the grass
+and lazy, stretching his limbs after the mid-day sleep.
+
+There is no precipitation in such a place as Cordova; life is quite long
+enough for all that it is really needful to do; to him who waits come
+all things, and a little waiting more or less can be of no great
+consequence. Let everything be taken very leisurely, for there is ample
+time. Yet in other parts of Andalusia they say the Cordovese are the
+greatest liars and the biggest thieves in Spain, which points to
+considerable industry. The traveller, hearing this, will doubtless ask
+what business has the pot to call the kettle black; and it is true that
+the standard of veracity throughout the country is by no means high.
+But this can scarcely be termed a vice, for the Andalusians see in it
+nothing discreditable, and it can be proved as exactly as a proposition
+of Euclid that vice and virtue are solely matters of opinion. In
+Southern Spain bosom friends lie to one another with complete freedom;
+no man would take his wife's word, but would believe only what he
+thought true, and think no worse of her when he caught her fibbing.
+Mendacity is a thing so perfectly understood that no one is abashed by
+detection. In England most men equivocate and nearly all women, but they
+are ashamed to be discovered; they blush and stammer and hesitate, or
+fly into a passion; the wiser Spaniard laughs, shrugging his shoulders,
+and utters a dozen rapid falsehoods to make up for the first. It is
+always said that a good liar needs an excellent memory, but he wants
+more qualities than that--unblushing countenance, the readiest wit, a
+manner to beget confidence. In fact it is so difficult to lie
+systematically and well that the ardour of the Andalusians in that
+pursuit can be ascribed only to an innate characteristic. Their
+imaginations, indeed, are so exuberant that the bald fact is to them
+grotesque and painful. They are like writers in love with words for
+their own sake, who cannot make the plainest statement without a gay
+parade of epithet and metaphor. They embroider and decorate, they colour
+and enhance the trivial details of circumstance. They must see
+themselves perpetually in an attitude; they must never fail to be
+effective. They lie for art's sake, without reason or rhyme, from mere
+devilry, often when it can only harm them. Mendacity then becomes an
+intellectual exercise, such as the poet's sonneteering to an imaginary
+lady-love.
+
+But the Cordovan very naturally holds himself in no such unflattering
+estimation. The motto of his town avers that he is a warlike person and
+a wise one:
+
+    Cordoba, casa de guerrera gente
+    Y de sabiduria clara fuente!
+
+And the history thereof, with its University and its Khalifs, bears him
+out. Art and science flourished there when the rest of Europe was
+enveloped in mediaeval darkness: when our Saxon ancestors lived in dirty
+hovels, barbaric brutes who knew only how to kill, to eat, and to
+propagate their species, the Moors of Cordova cultivated all the
+elegancies of life from verse-making to cleanliness.
+
+* * *
+
+I was standing on the bridge. The river flowed tortuously through the
+fertile plain, broad and shallow, and in it the blue sky and the white
+houses of the city were brightly mirrored. In the distance, like a
+vapour of amethyst, rose the mountains; while at my feet, in mid-stream,
+there were two mills which might have been untouched since Moorish days.
+There had been no rain for months, the water stood very low, and here
+and there were little islands of dry yellow sand, on which grew reeds
+and sedge. In such a spot might easily have wandered the half-naked
+fisherman of the oriental tale, bewailing in melodious verse the
+hardness of his lot; since to his net came no fish, seeking a broken pot
+or a piece of iron wherewith to buy himself a dinner. There might he
+find a ring half-buried in the sand, which, when he rubbed to see if it
+were silver, a smoke would surely rise from the water, increasing till
+the light of day was obscured; and half dead with fear, he would
+perceive at last a gigantic body towering above him, and a voice more
+terrible than the thunder of Allah, crying: 'What wishest thou from thy
+slave, O king? Know that I am of the Jin, and Suleyman, whose name be
+exalted, enslaved me to the ring that thou hast found.'
+
+In Cordova recollections of the _Arabian Nights_ haunt you till the
+commonest sights assume a fantastic character, and the frankly
+impossible becomes mere matter of fact. You wonder whether your life is
+real or whether you have somehow reverted to the days when Scheherazade,
+with her singular air of veracity, recited such enthralling stories to
+her lord as to save her own life and that of many other maidens. I
+looked along the river and saw three slender trees bending over it,
+reflecting in the placid water their leafless branches, and under them
+knelt three women washing clothes. Were they three beautiful princesses
+whose fathers had been killed, and they expelled from their kingdom and
+thus reduced to menial occupations? Who knows? Indeed, I thought it very
+probable, for so many royal persons have come down in the world of late;
+but I did not approach them, since king's daughters under these
+circumstances have often lost one eye, and their morals are nearly
+always of the worst description.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+[Sidenote: Puerta del Puente]
+
+
+I went back to the old gate which led to the bridge. Close by, in the
+little place, was the hut of the _consumo_, the local custom-house, with
+officials lounging at the door or sitting straddle-legged on chairs,
+lazily smoking. Opposite was a tobacconist's, with the gaudy red and
+yellow sign, _Campania arrendataria de tabacos_, and a dram-shop where
+three hardy Spaniards from the mountains stood drinking _aguardiente_.
+Than this, by the way, there is in the world no more insidious liquor,
+for at first you think its taste of aniseed and peppermint very
+disagreeable; but perseverance, here as in other human affairs, has its
+reward, and presently you develop for it a liking which time increases
+to enthusiasm. In Spain, the land of custom and usage, everything is
+done in a certain way; and there is a proper manner to drink
+_aguardiente_. To sip it would show a lamentable want of decorum. A
+Spaniard lifts the little glass to his lips, and with a comic, abrupt
+motion tosses the contents into his mouth, immediately afterwards
+drinking water, a tumbler of which is always given with the spirit. It
+is really the most epicurean of intoxicants because the charm lies in
+the after-taste. The water is so cool and refreshing after the
+fieriness; it gives, without the gasconnade, the emotion Keats
+experienced when he peppered his mouth with cayenne for the greater
+enjoyment of iced claret.
+
+But the men wiped their mouths with their hands and came out of the wine
+shop, mounting their horses which stood outside--shaggy, long-haired
+beasts with high saddles and great box-stirrups. They rode slowly
+through the gate one after the other, in the easy slouching way of men
+who have been used to the saddle all their lives and in the course of
+the week are accustomed to go a good many miles in an easy jog-trot to
+and from the town. It seems to me that the Spaniards resolve themselves
+into types more distinctly than is usual in northern countries, while
+between individuals there is less difference. These three, clean-shaven
+and uniformly dressed, of middle size, stout, with heavy strong features
+and small eyes, certainly resembled one another very strikingly. They
+were the typical inn-keepers of Goya's pictures but obviously could not
+all keep inns; doubtless they were farmers, horse-dealers, or
+forage-merchants, shrewd men of business, with keen eyes for the main
+chance. That class is the most trustworthy in Spain, kind, hospitable,
+and honest; they are old-fashioned people with many antique customs, and
+preserve much of the courteous dignity which made their fathers famous.
+
+A string of grey donkeys came along the bridge, their panniers
+earth-laden, poor miserable things that plodded slowly and painfully,
+with heads bent down, placing one foot before the other with the
+donkey's peculiar motion, patiently doing a thing they had patiently
+done ever since they could bear a load. They seemed to have a dull
+feeling that it was no use to make a fuss, or to complain; it would just
+go on till they dropped down dead and their carcases were sold for
+leather and glue. There was a Spanish note in the red trappings, braided
+and betasselled, but all worn, discoloured and stained.
+
+Inside the gate they stopped, waiting in a huddled group, with the same
+heavy patience, for the examination of the _consumo_. An officer of the
+custom-house went round with a long steel prong, which he ran into the
+baskets one by one, to see that there was nothing dutiable hidden in the
+earth. Then, sparing of his words, he made a sign to the driver and sat
+down again straddle-wise on his chair. '_Arre, burra!_' The first donkey
+walked slowly on, and as they heard the tinkling of the leader's bell
+the rest stepped forward in the long line, their heads hanging down,
+with that hopeless movement of the feet.
+
+* * *
+
+In the night, wandering at random through the streets, their silent
+whiteness filled me again with that intoxicating sensation of the
+_Arabian Nights_. I looked through the iron gateways as I passed, into
+the _patios_ with their dark foliage, and once I heard the melancholy
+twang of a guitar. I was sure that in one of those houses the three
+princesses had thrown off their disguise and sat radiant in queenly
+beauty, their raven tresses falling in a hundred plaits over their
+shoulders, their fingers stained with henna and their long eyelashes
+darkened with kohl. But alas! though I lost my way I found them not.
+
+Yet many an amorous Spaniard, too passionate to be admitted within his
+mistress' house, stood at her window. This method of philandering,
+surely most conducive to the ideal, is variously known as _comer
+hierro_, to eat iron, and _pelar la pava_, to pluck the turkey. One
+imagines that the cold air of a winter's night must render the most
+ardent lover platonic. It is a significant fact that in Spanish novels
+if the hero is left for two minutes alone with the heroine there are
+invariably asterisks and some hundred pages later a baby. So it is
+doubtless wise to separate true love by iron bars, and perchance
+beauty's eyes flash more darkly to the gallant standing without the
+gate; illusions, the magic flower of passion, arise more willingly. But
+in Spain the blood of youth is very hot, love laughs at most restraints
+and notwithstanding these precautions, often enough there is a
+catastrophe. The Spaniard, who will seduce any girl he can, is pitiless
+under like circumstances to his own womenkind; so there is much weeping,
+the girl is turned out of doors and falls readily into the hands of the
+procuress. In the brothels of Seville or of Madrid she finds at least a
+roof and bread to eat; and the fickle swain goes his way rejoicing.
+
+I found myself at last near the _Puerta del Puente_, and I stood again
+on the Moorish bridge. The town was still and mysterious in the night,
+and the moon shone down on the water with a hard and brilliant coldness.
+The three trees with their bare branches looked yet more slender, naked
+and alone, like pre-Raphaelite trees in a landscape of _Pelleas et
+Melisande_; the broad river, almost stagnant, was extraordinarily calm
+and silent. I wondered what strange things the placid Guadalquivir had
+seen through the centuries; on its bosom many a body had been borne
+towards the sea. It recalled those mysterious waters of the Eastern
+tales which brought to the marble steps of palaces great chests in which
+lay a fair youth's headless corpse or a sleeping beautiful maid.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+[Sidenote: Seville]
+
+
+The impression left by strange towns and cities is often a matter of
+circumstance, depending upon events in the immediate past; or on the
+chance which, during his earliest visit, there befell the traveller.
+After a stormy passage across the Channel, Newhaven, from the mere fact
+of its situation on solid earth, may gain a fascination which closer
+acquaintance can never entirely destroy; and even Birmingham, first seen
+by a lurid sunset, may so affect the imagination as to appear for ever
+like some infernal, splendid city, restless with the hurried toil of
+gnomes and goblins. So to myself Seville means ten times more than it
+can mean to others. I came to it after weary years in London, heartsick
+with much hoping, my mind dull with drudgery; and it seemed a land of
+freedom. There I became at last conscious of my youth, and it seemed a
+belvedere upon a new life. How can I forget the delight of wandering in
+the Sierpes, released at length from all imprisoning ties, watching the
+various movement as though it were a stage-play, yet half afraid that
+the falling curtain would bring back reality! The songs, the dances, the
+happy idleness of orange-gardens, the gay turbulence of Seville by
+night; ah! there at least I seized life eagerly, with both hands,
+forgetting everything but that time was short and existence full of joy.
+I sat in the warm sunshine, inhaling the pleasant odours, reminding
+myself that I had no duty to do then, or the morrow, or the day after. I
+lay a-bed thinking how happy, effortless and free would be my day.
+Mounting my horse, I clattered through the narrow streets, over the
+cobbles, till I came to the country; the air was fresh and sweet, and
+Aguador loved the spring mornings. When he put his feet to the springy
+turf he gave a little shake of pleasure, and without a sign from me
+broke into a gallop. To the amazement of shepherds guarding their wild
+flocks, to the confusion of herds of brown pigs, scampering hastily as
+we approached, he and I excited by the wind singing in our ears, we
+pelted madly through the country. And the whole land laughed with the
+joy of living.
+
+But I love also the recollection of Seville in the grey days of
+December, when the falling rain offered a grateful contrast to the
+unvarying sunshine. Then new sights delighted the eye, new perfumes the
+nostril. In the decay of that long southern autumn a more sombre
+opulence was added to the gay colours; a different spirit filled the
+air, so that I realised suddenly that old romantic Spain of Ferdinand
+and Isabella. It lay a-dying still, gorgeous in corruption, sober yet
+flamboyant, rich and poverty-stricken, squalid, magnificent. The white
+streets, the dripping trees, the clouds gravid with rain, gave to all
+things an adorable melancholy, a sad, poetic charm. Looking back, I
+cannot dismiss the suspicion that my passionate emotions were somewhat
+ridiculous, but at twenty-three one can afford to lack a sense of
+humour.
+
+* * *
+
+But Seville at first is full of disillusion. It has offered abundant
+material to the idealist who, as might be expected, has drawn of it a
+picture which is at once common and pretentious. Your idealist can see
+no beauty in sober fact, but must array it in all the theatrical
+properties of a vulgar imagination; he must give to things more imposing
+proportions, he colours gaudily; Nature for him is ever posturing in the
+full glare of footlights. Really he stands on no higher level than the
+housemaid who sees in every woman a duchess in black velvet, an Aubrey
+Plantagenet in plain John Smith. So I, in common with many another
+traveller, expected to find in the Guadalquivir a river of transparent
+green, with orange-groves along its banks, where wandered ox-eyed youths
+and maidens beautiful. Palm-trees, I thought, rose towards heaven, like
+passionate souls longing for release from earthly bondage; Spanish
+women, full-breasted and sinuous, danced _boleros_, _fandangos_, while
+the air rang with the joyous sound of castanets, and toreadors in
+picturesque habiliments twanged the light guitar.
+
+Alas! the Guadalquivir is like yellow mud, and moored to the busy quays
+lie cargo-boats lading fruit or grain or mineral; there no perfume
+scents the heavy air. The nights, indeed, are calm and clear, and the
+stars shine brightly; but the river banks see no amours more romantic
+than those of stokers from Liverpool or Glasgow, and their lady-loves
+have neither youth nor beauty.
+
+Yet Seville has many a real charm to counter-balance these lost
+illusions. He that really knows it, like an ardent lover with his
+mistress' imperfections, would have no difference; even the
+Guadalquivir, so matter-of-fact, really so prosaic, has an unimagined
+attractiveness; the crowded shipping, the hurrying porters, add to that
+sensation of vivacity which is of Seville the most fascinating
+characteristic. And Seville is an epitome of Andalusia, with its life
+and death, with its colour and vivid contrasts, with its boyish gaiety.
+
+It is a city of delightful ease, of freedom and sunshine, of torrid
+heat. There it does not matter what you do, nor when, nor how you do it.
+There is none to hinder you, none to watch. Each takes his ease, and is
+content that his neighbour should do the like. Doubtless people are lazy
+in Seville, but good heavens! why should one be so terribly strenuous?
+Go into the Plaza Nueva, and you will see it filled with men of all
+ages, of all classes, 'taking the sun'; they promenade slowly,
+untroubled by any mental activity, or sit on benches between the
+palm-trees, smoking cigarettes; perhaps the more energetic read the
+bull-fighting news in the paper. They are not ambitious, and they do not
+greatly care to make their fortunes; so long as they have enough to eat
+and drink--food is very cheap--and cigarettes to smoke, they are quite
+happy. The Corporation provides seats, and the sun shines down for
+nothing--so let them sit in it and warm themselves. I daresay it is as
+good a way of getting through life as most others.
+
+A southern city never reveals its true charm till the summer, and few
+English know what Seville is under the burning sun of July. It was built
+for the great heat, and it is only then that the refreshing coolness of
+the _patio_ can be appreciated. In the streets the white glare is
+mitigated by awnings that stretch from house to house, and the half
+light in the Sierpes, the High Street, has a curious effect; the people
+in their summer garb walk noiselessly, as though the warmth made sound
+impossible. Towards evening the sail-cloths are withdrawn, and a breath
+of cold air sinks down; the population bestirs itself, and along the
+Sierpes the _cafes_ become suddenly crowded and noisy.
+
+Then, for it was too hot to ride earlier, I would mount my horse and
+cross the river. The Guadalquivir had lost its winter russet, and under
+the blue sky gained varied tints of liquid gold, of emerald and of
+sapphire. I lingered in Triana, the gipsy-quarter, watching the people.
+Beautiful girls stood at the windows, so that the whole way was lined
+with them, and their lips were not unwilling to break into charming
+smiles. One especially I remember who was used to sit on a balcony at a
+street-corner; her hair was irreproachable in its elaborate arrangement,
+and the red carnation in it gleamed like fire against the night. Her
+face was long, fairer-complexioned than is common, with regular and
+delicate features. She sat at her balcony, with a huge book open on her
+knee, which she read with studied disregard of the passers-by; but when
+I looked back sometimes I saw that she had lifted her eyes, lustrous and
+dark, and they met mine gravely.
+
+And in the country I passed through long fields of golden corn, which
+reached as far as I could see; I remembered the spring, when it had all
+been new, soft, fresh, green. And presently I turned round to look at
+Seville in the distance, bathed in brilliant light, glowing as though
+its walls were built of yellow flame. The Giralda arose in its wonderful
+grace like an arrow; so slim, so comely, it reminded one of an Arab
+youth, with long, thin limbs. With the setting sun, gradually the city
+turned rosy-red and seemed to lose all substantiality, till it became a
+many-shaped mist that was dissolved in the tenderness of the sky.
+
+Late in the night I stood at my window looking at the cloudless heaven.
+From the earth ascended, like incense, the mellow odours of summer-time;
+the belfry of the neighbouring church stood boldly outlined against the
+darkness, and the storks that had built their nest upon it were
+motionless, not stirring even as the bells rang out the hours. The city
+slept, and it seemed that I alone watched in the silence; the sky still
+was blue, and the stars shone in their countless millions. I thought of
+the city that never rested, of London with its unceasing roar, the
+endless streets, the greyness. And all around me was a quiet serenity, a
+tranquillity such as the Christian may hope shall reward him in Paradise
+for the troublous pilgrimage of life. But that is long ago and passed
+for ever.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+[Sidenote: The Alcazar]
+
+
+Arriving at Seville the recollection of Cordova took me quickly to the
+Alcazar; but I was a little disappointed. It has been ill and tawdrily
+restored, with crude pigments, with gold that is too bright and too
+clean; but even before that, Charles V. and his successors had made
+additions out of harmony with Moorish feeling. Of the palace where lived
+the Mussulman Kings nothing, indeed, remains; but Pedro the Cruel, with
+whom the edifice now standing is more especially connected, was no less
+oriental than his predecessors, and he employed Morisco architects to
+rebuild it. Parts are said to be exact reproductions of the older
+structure, while many of the beautiful tiles were taken from Moorish
+houses.
+
+The atmosphere, then, is but half Arabic; the rest belongs to that
+flaunting, multi-coloured barbarism which is characteristic of Northern
+Spain before the union of Arragon and Castile. Wandering in the deserted
+courts, looking through horseshoe windows of exquisite design at the
+wild garden, Pedro the Cruel and Maria de Padilla are the figures that
+occupy the mind.
+
+Seville teems with anecdotes of the monarch who, according to the point
+of view, has been called the Cruel and the Just. He was an amorist for
+whom platonic dalliance had no charm, and there are gruesome tales of
+ladies burned alive because they would not quench the flame of his
+desires, of others, fiercely virtuous, who poured boiling oil on face
+and bosom to make themselves unattractive in his sight. But the head
+that wears a crown apparently has fascinations which few women can
+resist, and legend tells more frequently of Pedro's conquests than of
+his rebuffs. He was an ardent lover to whom marriage vows were of no
+importance; that he committed bigamy is certain--and pardonable, but
+some historians are inclined to think that he had at one and the same
+time no less than three wives. He was oriental in his tastes.
+
+In imitation of the Paynim sovereigns Pedro loved to wander in the
+streets of Seville at night, alone and disguised, to seek adventure or
+to see for himself the humour of his subjects; and like them also it
+pleased him to administer justice seated in the porch of his palace. If
+he was often hard and proud towards the nobles, with the people he was
+always very gracious; to them he was the redressor of wrongs and a
+protector of the oppressed; his justice was that of the Mussulman
+rulers, rapid, terrible and passionate, often quaint. For instance: a
+rich priest had done some injury to a cobbler, who brought him before
+the ecclesiastical tribunals, where he was for a year suspended from his
+clerical functions. The tradesman thought the punishment inadequate, and
+taking the law into his own hands gave the priest a drubbing. He was
+promptly seized, tried, condemned to death. But he appealed to the king
+who, with a witty parody of the rival Court, changed the punishment to
+suspension from his trade, and ordered the cobbler for twelve months to
+make no boots.
+
+On the other hand, the Alcazar itself has been the scene of Pedro's
+vilest crimes, in the whole list of which is none more insolent, none
+more treacherous, than that whereby he secured the priceless ruby which
+graces still the royal crown of England. There is a school of historians
+which insists on finding a Baptist Minister in every hero--think what a
+poor-blooded creature they wish to make of the glorious Nelson--but no
+casuistry avails to cleanse the memory of Pedro of Castille: even for
+his own ruthless age he was a monster of cruelty and lust. Indeed the
+indignation with which his biographers have felt bound to charge their
+pens has somewhat obscured their judgment; they have so eagerly insisted
+on the censure with which themselves regard their hero's villainies,
+that they have found little opportunity to explain a complex character.
+Yet the story of his early life affords a simple key to his maturity.
+Till the age of fifteen he lived in prisons, suffering with his mother
+every insult and humiliation, while his father's mistress kept queenly
+state, and her children received the honours of royal princes. When he
+came to the throne he found himself a catspaw between his natural
+brothers and ambitious nobles. His nearest relatives were ever his
+bitterest enemies, and he was continually betrayed by those he trusted;
+even his mother delivered to the rebellious peers the strongholds and
+the treasures he had left in her charge and caused him to be taken
+prisoner. As a boy he had been violent and impetuous, yet always loyal:
+but before he was twenty he became suspicious and mistrustful; in his
+weakness he made craft and perfidy his weapons, practising to compose
+his face, to feign forgetfulness of injury till the moment of vengeance;
+he learned to dissemble so that none could tell his mind, and treated no
+courtiers with greater favour than those upon whose death he had already
+determined.
+
+Intermingled with this career of vice and perfidy and bloodshed is the
+love of Maria de Padilla, whom the king met when he was eighteen, and
+till her death loved passionately--with brief inconstancies, for
+fidelity has never been a royal virtue; and she figures with gentle
+pathos in that grim history like wild perfumed flowers on a storm-beaten
+coast. After the assassination of the unfortunate Blanche, the French
+Queen whom he loathed with an extraordinary physical repulsion, Pedro
+acknowledged a secret marriage with Maria de Padilla, which legitimised
+her children; but for ten years before she had been treated with royal
+rights. The historian says that she was very beautiful, but her especial
+charm seems to have been that voluptuous grace which is characteristic
+of Andalusian women. She was simple and pious, with a nature of great
+sweetness, and she never abused her power; her influence, as runs the
+hackneyed phrase, was always for good, and untiringly she did her
+utmost to incline her despot lover to mercy. She alone sheds a ray of
+light on Pedro's memory, only her love can save him from the execration
+of posterity. When she died rich and poor alike mourned her, and the
+king was inconsolable. He honoured her with pompous obsequies, and
+throughout the kingdom ordered masses to be sung for the rest of her
+soul.
+
+* * *
+
+The guardians of the Alcazar show you the chambers in which dwelt this
+gracious lady, and the garden-fountain wherein she bathed in summer.
+Moralists, anxious to prove that the way of righteousness is hard, say
+that beauty dies, but they err, for beauty is immortal. The habitations
+of a lovely woman never lose the enchantment she has cast over them, her
+comeliness lingers in their empty chambers like a subtle odour; and
+centuries after her very bones have crumbled to dust it is her presence
+alone that is felt, her footfall that is heard on the marble floors.
+
+Garish colours, alas! have driven the tender spirit of Maria de Padilla
+from the royal palace, but it has betaken itself to the old garden, and
+there wanders sadly. It is a charming place of rare plants and exotic
+odours; cypress and tall palm trees rise towards the blue sky with their
+irresistible melancholy, their far-away suggestion of burning deserts;
+and at their feet the ground is carpeted with violets. Yet to me the
+wild roses brought strangely recollections of England, of long summer
+days when the air was sweet and balmy; the birds sang heavenly songs,
+the same songs as they sing in June in the fat Kentish fields. The
+gorgeous palace had only suggested the long past days of history, and
+Seville the joy of life and the love of sunshine; but the old quiet
+garden took me far away from Spain, so that I longed to be again in
+England. In thought I wandered through a garden that I knew in years
+gone by, filled also with flowers, but with hollyhocks and jasmine; the
+breeze carried the sweet scent of the honeysuckle to my nostrils, and I
+looked at the green lawns, with the broad, straight lines of the
+grass-mower. The low of cattle reached my ears, and wandering to the
+fence I looked into the fields beyond; yellow cows grazed idly or lay
+still chewing the cud; they stared at me with listless, sleepy eyes.
+
+But I glanced up and saw a flock of wild geese flying northwards in long
+lines that met, making two sides of a huge triangle; they flew quickly
+in the cloudless sky, far above me, and presently were lost to view.
+About me was the tall box-wood of the southern garden, and tropical
+plants with rich flowers of yellow and red and purple. A dark fir-tree
+stood out, ragged and uneven, like a spirit of the North, erect as a
+life without reproach; but the foliage of the palms hung down with a
+sad, adorable grace.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+[Sidenote: Calle de las Sierpes]
+
+
+In Seville the Andalusian character thrives in its finest flower; and
+nowhere can it be more conveniently studied than in the narrow, sinuous,
+crowded thoroughfare which is the oddest street in Europe. The Calle de
+las Sierpes is merely a pavement, hardly broader than that of
+Piccadilly, without a carriage-way. The houses on either side are very
+irregular; some are tall, four-storeyed, others quite tiny; some are
+well kept and freshly painted, others dilapidated. It is one of the
+curiosities of Seville that there is no particularly fashionable
+quarter; and, as though some moralising ruler had wished to place before
+his people a continual reminder of the uncertainty of human greatness,
+by the side of a magnificent palace you will find a hovel.
+
+At no hour of the day does the Calle de las Sierpes lack animation, but
+to see it at its best you must go towards evening, at seven o'clock, for
+then there is scarcely room to move. Fine gentlemen stand at the club
+doors or sit within, looking out of the huge windows; the merchants and
+the students, smoking cigarettes, saunter, wrapped magnificently in
+their capos. Cigarette-girls pass with roving eyes; they suffer from no
+false modesty and smile with pleasure when a compliment reaches their
+ears. Admirers do not speak in too low a tone and the fair Sevillan is
+never hard of hearing.
+
+Newspaper boys with shrill cries announce evening editions: '_Porvenir!_
+_Noticiero!_' Vendors of lottery-tickets wander up and down, audaciously
+offering the first prize: '_Quien quiere el premio gardo?_' Beggars
+follow you with piteous tales of fasts improbably extended. But most
+striking is the _gente flamenca_, the bull-fighter, with his numerous
+hangers-on. The _toreros_--toreador is an unknown word, good for comic
+opera and persons who write novels of Spanish life and cannot be
+bothered to go to Spain--the _toreros_ sit in their especial cafe, the
+_Cerveceria National_, or stand in little groups talking to one another.
+They are distinguishable by the _coleta_, which is a little plait of
+hair used to attach the chignon of full-dress: it is the dearest
+ambition of the aspirant to the bull-ring to possess this ornament; he
+grows it as soon as he is full-fledged, and it is solemnly cut off when
+the weight of years and the responsibility of landed estates induce him
+to retire from the profession. The bull-fighter dresses peculiarly and
+the _gente flamenca_, imitates him so far as its means allow. A famous
+_matador_ is as well paid as in England a Cabinet Minister or a
+music-hall artiste. This is his costume: a broad-brimmed hat with a low
+crown, which is something like a topper absurdly flattened down, with
+brims preposterously broadened out. The front of his shirt is befrilled
+and embroidered, and his studs are the largest diamonds; not even
+financiers in England wear such important stones. He wears a low collar
+without a necktie, but ties a silk handkerchief round his neck like an
+English navvy; an Eton jacket, fitting very tightly, brown, black, or
+grey, with elaborate frogs and much braiding; the trousers, skin-tight
+above, loosen below, and show off the lower extremities when, like the
+heroes of feminine romance, the wearer has a fine leg. Indeed, it is a
+mode of dress which exhibits the figure to great advantage, and many of
+these young men have admirable forms.
+
+In their strong, picturesque way they are often very handsome. They have
+a careless grace of gesture, a manner of actors perfectly at ease in an
+effective part, a brutal healthiness; there is a flamboyance in their
+bearing, a melodramatic swagger, which is most diverting. And their
+faces, so contrasted are the colours, so strongly marked the features,
+are full of interest. Clean shaven, the beard shows violet through the
+olive skin; they have high cheek bones and thin, almost hollow cheeks,
+with eyes set far back in the sockets, dark and lustrous under heavy
+brows. The black hair, admirably attached to the head, is cut short;
+shaved on the temples and over the ears, brushed forward as in other
+countries is fashionable with gentlemen of the box: it fits the skull
+like a second, tighter skin. The lips are red and sensual, the teeth
+white, regular and well shaped. The bull-fighter is remarkable also for
+the diamond rings which decorate his fingers and the massive gold, the
+ponderous seals, of his watch-chain.
+
+Who can wonder then that maidens fair, their hearts turning to thoughts
+of love, should cast favourable glances upon this hero of a hundred
+fights? The conquests of tenors and grand-dukes and fiddlers are
+insignificant beside those of a bull-fighter; and the certainty of
+feminine smiles is another inducement for youth to exchange the drudgery
+of menial occupations for the varied excitement of the ring.
+
+* * *
+
+At night the Sierpes is different again. Little by little the people
+scatter to their various homes, the shops are closed, the clubs put out
+their lights, and by one the loiterers are few. The contrast is vivid
+between the noisy throng of day-time and this sudden stillness; the
+emptiness of the winding street seems almost unnatural. The houses,
+losing all variety, are intensely black; and above, the sinuous line of
+sky is brilliant with clustering stars. A drunken roysterer reels from a
+tavern-door, his footfall echoing noisily along the pavement, but
+quickly he sways round a corner; and the silence, more impressive for
+the interruption, returns. The night-watchman, huddled in a cloak of
+many folds, is sleeping in a doorway, dimly outlined by the yellow gleam
+of his lantern.
+
+Then I, a lover of late hours, returning, seek the _guardia_. Sevillan
+houses are locked at midnight by this individual, who keeps the
+latch-keys of a whole street, and is supposed to be on the look-out for
+tardy comers. I clap my hands, such being the Spanish way to attract
+attention, and shout; but he does not appear. He is a good-natured,
+round man, bibulous, with grey hair and a benevolent manner. I know his
+habits and resign myself to inquiring for him in the neighbouring
+dram-shops. I find him at last and assail him with all the abuse at my
+command; he is too tipsy to answer or to care, and follows me, jangling
+his keys. He fumbles with them at the door, blaspheming because they are
+so much alike, and finally lets me in.
+
+_'Buena noche. Descanse v bien.'_
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+[Sidenote: Characteristics]
+
+
+It is a hazardous thing to attempt the analysis of national character,
+for after all, however careful the traveller may be in his inquiries, it
+is from the few individuals himself has known that his most definite
+impressions are drawn. Of course he can control his observations by
+asking the opinion of foreigners long resident in the country; but
+curiously enough in Andalusia precisely the opposite occurs from what
+elsewhere is usual. Aliens in England, France, or Italy, with increasing
+comprehension, acquire also affection and esteem for the people among
+whom they live; but I have seldom found in Southern Spain a
+foreigner--and there are many, merchants, engineers and the like, with
+intimate knowledge of the inhabitants--who had a good word to say for
+the Andalusians.
+
+But perhaps it is in the behaviour of crowds that the most accurate
+picture of national character can be obtained. Like composite
+photographs which give the appearance of a dozen people together, but a
+recognisable portrait of none, the multitude offers as it were a
+likeness in the rough, without precision of detail yet with certain
+marked features more obviously indicated. The crowd is an individual
+without responsibility, unoppressed by the usual ties of prudence and
+decorum, who betrays himself because he lacks entirely
+self-consciousness and the desire to pose. In Spain the crowd is above
+all things good-humoured, fond of a joke so long as it is none too
+subtle, excitable of course and prone to rodomontade, yet practical,
+eager to make the best of things and especially to get its money's
+worth. If below the surface there are a somewhat brutal savagery, a
+cruel fickleness, these are traits common with all human beings together
+assembled; they are merely evidence of man's close relationship to ape
+and tiger.
+
+From contemporary novels more or less the same picture appears, and also
+from the newspapers, though in these somewhat idealised; for the Press,
+bound to flatter for its living, represents its patrons, as do some
+portrait-painters, not as they are but as they would like to be. In the
+eyes of Andalusian journalists their compatriots are for ever making a
+magnificent gesture; and the condition would be absurd if a hornet's
+nest of comic papers, tempering vanity with a lively sense of the
+ridiculous, did not save the situation by abundantly coarse caricatures.
+
+It is vanity then which emerges as the most distinct of national traits,
+a vanity so egregious, so childish, so grotesque, that the onlooker is
+astounded. The Andalusians have a passion for gorgeous raiment and for
+jewellery. They must see themselves continually in the brightest light,
+standing for ever on some alpine eminence of vice or virtue, in full
+view of their fellow men. Like schoolboys they will make themselves out
+desperate sinners to arouse your horror, and if that does not impress
+you, accomplished actors ready to suit your every mood, they will pose
+as saints than whom none more truly pious have existed on the earth.
+They are the Gascons of Spain, but beside them the Bordelais is a
+truthful, unimaginative creature.
+
+Next comes laziness. There is in Europe no richer soil than that of
+Andalusia, and the Arabs, with an elaborate system of irrigation,
+obtained three crops a year; but now half the land lies uncultivated,
+and immense tracts are planted only with olives, which, comparatively,
+entail small labour. But the inhabitants of this fruitful country are
+happy in this, that boredom is unknown to them; content to lie in the
+sun for hours, neither talking, thinking, nor reading, they are never
+tired of idleness: two men will sit for half a day in a _cafe_, with a
+glass of water before them, not exchanging three remarks in an hour. I
+fancy it is this stolidness which has given travellers an impression of
+dignity; in their quieter moments they remind one of very placid sheep,
+for they have not half the energy of pigs, which in Spain at least are
+restless and spirited creatures. But a trifle will rouse them; and then,
+quite unable to restrain themselves, pallid with rage, they hurl abuse
+at their enemy--Spanish, they say, is richer in invective than any other
+European tongue--and quickly long knives are whipped out to avenge the
+affront.
+
+Universal opinion has given its verdict in an epithet: and just as many
+people speak of the volatile Frenchman, the stolid Dutchman, the amatory
+Italian, they talk of the proud Spaniard. But it is pride of a peculiar
+sort; a Sevillian with only the smallest claims to respectability would
+rather die than carry a parcel through the street; however poor, some
+one must perform for him so menial an office: and he would consider it
+vastly beneath his dignity to accept charity, though if he had the
+chance would not hesitate to swindle you out of sixpence. But in matters
+of honesty these good people show a certain discrimination. Your
+servants, for example, would hesitate to steal money, especially if
+liable to detection, but not to take wine and sugar and oil: which is
+proved by the freedom with which they discuss the theft among themselves
+and the calmness with which they acknowledge it when a wrathful master
+takes them in the act. The reasoning is, if you're such a fool as not to
+keep your things under lock and key you deserve to be robbed; and if
+dismissed for such a peccadillo they consider themselves very hardly
+used.
+
+Uncharitable persons, saying that a Spaniard will live for a week on
+bread and water duly to prepare himself for a meal at another's expense,
+accuse them of gluttony; but I have always found the Andalusians
+abstemious eaters, nor have I wondered at this, since Spanish food is
+abominable. But drunkards they often are. I should think as many people
+in proportion get drunk in Seville as in London, though it is only fair
+to add that their heads are not strong, and very little alcohol will
+produce in them an indecent exhilaration.
+
+But if the reader, because the Andalusians are slothful, truthless, but
+moderately honest, vain, concludes that they are an unattractive people
+he will grossly err. His reasoning, that moral qualities make pleasant
+companions, is quite false; on the contrary it is rigid principles and
+unbending character, strength of will and a decided sense of right and
+wrong, which make intercourse difficult. A sensitive conscience is no
+addition to the amenities of the dinner-table. But when a man is willing
+to counter a deadly sin with a shrug of the shoulders, when between
+white and black he can discover no insupportable contrast, the
+probabilities are that he will at least humour your whims and respect
+your prejudices. And so it is that the Andalusians make very agreeable
+acquaintance. They are free and amiable in their conversation, and will
+always say the thing that pleases rather than the brutal thing that is.
+They miss no opportunity to make compliments, which they do so well that
+at the moment you are assured these flattering remarks come from the
+bottom of their hearts. Very reasonably, they cannot understand why you
+should be disagreeable to a man merely because you rob him; to injury,
+unless their minds are clouded by passion, they have not the bad taste
+to add insult. Compare with these manners the British abhorrence of
+polite and complimentary speeches, especially if they happen to be true:
+the Englishman may hold you in the highest estimation, but wild horses
+will not drag from him an acknowledgment of the fact; whereby humanism
+and the general stock of self-esteem are notably diminished.
+
+Nothing can be more graceful than their mode of speech, for the very
+construction of the language conduces to courtesy. The Spaniards have
+also an oriental way of offering you things, placing themselves and
+their houses entirely at your disposal. If you remark on anything of
+theirs they beg you at once to take it. If you go into a pot-house where
+a peasant is dining on a plate of ham, a few olives, and a glass of
+wine, he will ask: '_Le gusta_,' 'Will you have some,' with a little
+motion of handing you his meal. Of course it would be an outrage to
+decorum to accept these generous offers, but that is beside the
+question; for good manners are not an affair of the heart, but a
+complicated game to be learned and played on either side with due
+attention to the rules. It may be argued that such details are not
+serious; but surely for the common round of life politeness is more
+necessary than any heroic qualities. We need our friends' self-sacrifice
+once in a blue moon, but their courtesy every day; and for my own part,
+I would choose the companions of my leisure rather for their good
+breeding than for the excellence of their dispositions.
+
+Beside this, however, the Andalusians are much attached to children, and
+it is pleasant to see the real fondness which exists between various
+members of a family. One singular point I have noted, that although the
+Spanish marry for love rather than from convenience, a wife puts
+kindred before husband, her affection remaining chiefly where it was
+before marriage. But if the moralist desires yet more solid virtues, he
+need only inquire of the first Sevillan he meets, who will give at
+shortest notice, in choice and fluent language, a far more impressive
+list than I could ever produce.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+[Sidenote: Don Juan Tenorio]
+
+
+On its own behalf each country seems to choose one man, historical or
+imaginary, to stand for the race, making as it were an incarnation of
+all the virtues and all the vices wherewith it is pleased to charge
+itself; and nothing really better explains the character of a people
+than their choice of a national hero. Fifty years ago John Bull was the
+typical Englishman. Stout, rubicund and healthy, with a loud voice and a
+somewhat aggressive manner, he belonged distinctly to the middle
+classes. He had a precise idea of his rights and a flattering opinion of
+his merits; he was peaceable, but ready enough to fight for commercial
+advantages, or if roused, for conscience sake. And when this took place
+he possessed always the comforting assurance that the Almighty was on
+his side; he put his faith without hesitation on the Bible and on the
+superiority of the English Nation. For foreigners he had a magnificent
+contempt and distinguished between them and monkeys only by a certain
+mental effort. Art he thought nasty, literature womanish; he was a Tory,
+middle-aged and well-to-do.
+
+But nowadays all that is changed; John Bull, having amassed great
+wealth, has been gathered to his fathers and now disports himself in an
+early Victorian paradise furnished with horse-hair sofas and mahogany
+sideboards. His son reigns in his stead; and though perhaps not
+officially recognised as England's archetype, his appearance in novel
+and in drama, in the illustrated papers, in countless advertisements,
+proves the reality of his sway. It is his image that rests in the heart
+of British maidens, his the example that British youths industriously
+follow.
+
+But John Bull, Junior, has added his mother's maiden name to his own,
+and remembers with pleasure that he belongs to a good old county family.
+He has changed his address from Bedford Square to South Kensington, and
+has been educated at a Public School and at a University. Young, tall
+and fair-haired, there is nothing to suggest that he will ever have that
+inelegant paunch which prevented the father, even in his loftiest
+moments of moral indignation, from being dignified. Of course he is a
+soldier, for the army is still the only profession for a gentleman, and
+England's hero is that above all things. His morals are unexceptional,
+since to the ten commandments of Moses he has added the decalogue of
+good form. His clothes, whether he wears a Norfolk jacket or a frock
+coat, fit to perfection. He is a good shot, a daring rider, a
+serviceable cricketer. His heart beats with simple emotions, he will
+ever cheer at the sight of the Union Jack, and the strains of _Rule
+Britannia_ bring patriotic tears to his eyes. Of late, (like myself,) he
+has become an Imperialist. His intentions are always strictly
+honourable, and he would not kiss the tip of a woman's fingers except
+Hymen gave him the strictest rights to do so. If he became enamoured of
+a lady with whom such tender sentiments should not be harboured, he
+would invariably remember his duty at the psychological moment, and with
+many moving expressions renounce her: in fact he is a devil at
+renouncing women. I wonder it flatters them.
+
+Contrast with this pattern of excellence, eminently praiseworthy if
+somewhat dull, Don Juan Tenorio, who stands in exactly the same relation
+to the Andalusians as does John Bull to the English. He is a worthless,
+heartless creature, given over to the pursuit of emotion. The main
+lines of the story are well known. The legend, so far as Seville is
+concerned, (industrious persons have found analogues throughout the
+world,) appears to be founded on fact. There actually lived a Comendador
+de Calatrava who was killed by Don Juan after the abduction of his
+daughter. The perfect amorist, according to the _Cronica de Sevilla_,
+was then inveigled into the church where lay his enemy and assassinated
+by the Franciscans, who spread the pious fiction that the image of his
+victim, descending from its pedestal, had itself exacted vengeance. It
+was an unfortunate invention, for the catastrophe has proved a
+stumbling-block to all that have dealt with the subject. The Spaniards
+of Molina's day may not have minded the clumsy _deus ex machina_, but
+later writers have been able to make nothing of it. In Moliere's play,
+for instance, the grotesque statue is absurdly inapposite, for his Don
+Juan is a wit and a cynic, a courtier of Louis XIV., with whose sins
+avenging gods are out of all proportion. Love for him is an intellectual
+exercise and a pastime. 'Constancy,' he says, 'is only good for fools.
+We owe ourselves to pretty women in general, and the mere fact of having
+met one does not absolve us from our duty to others. The birth of
+passion has an inexplicable charm, and the pleasure of love is in
+variety.' And Zorilla, whose version is the most poetic of them all, has
+succeeded in giving only a ridiculous exhibition of waxworks.
+
+But the monk, Tirso de Molina, who was the first to apply literary form
+to the legend, alone gives the character in its primitive simplicity. He
+drew the men of his time; and his compatriots, recognising themselves,
+have made the work immortal. For Spain, at all events, the type has been
+irrevocably fixed. Don Juan Tenorio was indeed a Spaniard of his age, a
+man of turbulent instincts, with a love of adventure and a fine contempt
+for danger, of an overwhelming pride; careful of his own honour, and
+careless of that of others. He looked upon every woman as lawful prey
+and hesitated at neither perjury nor violence to gain his ends; despair
+and tears left him indifferent. Love for him was purely carnal, with
+nothing of the timid flame of pastoral romance, nor of the chivalrous
+and metaphysic passion of Provence; it was a fierce, consuming fire
+which quickly burnt itself out. He was a vulgar and unoriginal seducer
+who stole favours in the dark by pretending to be the lady's chosen
+lover, or induced guileless maids to trust him under promise of
+marriage, then rode away as fast as his horse could carry him. The
+monotony of his methods and their success are an outrage to the
+intelligence of the sex. But for all his scoffing he remained a true
+Catholic, devoutly believing that the day would come when he must
+account for his acts; and he proposed, when too old to commit more sins,
+to repent and make his peace with the Almighty.
+
+It is significant that the Andalusians have thus chosen Don Juan
+Tenorio, for he is an abstract, with the lines somewhat subdued by the
+advance of civilisation, of the national character. For them his vices,
+his treachery, his heartlessness, have nothing repellent; nor does his
+inconstancy rob him of feminine sympathy. He is, indeed, a far greater
+favourite with the ladies than John Bull. The Englishman they respect,
+they know he will make a good husband and a model father; but he is too
+monogamous to arouse enthusiasm.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+[Sidenote: Women of Andalusia]
+
+
+It is meet and just that the traveller who desires a closer acquaintance
+with the country wherein he sojourns than is obtained by the Cockney
+tripper, should fall in love. The advantages of this proceeding are
+manifold and obvious. He will acquire the language with a more rapid
+facility; he will look upon the land with greater sympathy and hence
+with sharper insight; and little particularities of life will become
+known to him, which to the dreary creature who surveys a strange world
+from the portico of an expensive hotel, must necessarily lie hid. If I
+personally did not arrive at that delectable condition the fault is with
+the immortal gods rather than with myself; for in my eagerness to learn
+the gorgeous tongue of Calderon and of Cervantes, I placed myself
+purposely in circumstances where I thought the darts of young Cupid
+could never fail to miss me. But finally I was reduced to Ollendorf's
+Grammar. However, these are biographical details of interest to none but
+myself; they are merely to serve as preface for certain observations
+upon the women whom the traveller in the evening sees hurrying through
+the Sierpes on their way home.
+
+Human beauty is the most arbitrary of things, and the Englishman,
+accustomed to the classic type of his own countrywomen, will at first
+perhaps be somewhat disappointed with the excellence of Spain. It
+consists but seldom in any regularity of feature, for their appeal is to
+the amorist rather than to the sculptor in marble. Their red lips carry
+suggestions of burning kisses, so that his heart must be hard indeed who
+does not feel some flutterings at their aspect. The teeth are small,
+very white, regular. Face and body, indeed, are but the expression of a
+passionate nature.
+
+But when I write of Spanish women I think of you, Rosarito; I find
+suddenly that it is no impersonal creature that fills my mind, but
+you--you! When I state solemnly that their greatest beauty lies in their
+hair and eyes, it is of you I think; it is your dark eyes that were
+lustrous, soft as velvet, caressing sometimes, and sometimes sparkling
+with fiery glances. (Alas! that I can find but hackneyed phrases to
+describe those heart-disturbers!) And when I say that the eyebrows of a
+Spanish woman are not often so delicately pencilled as with many an
+English girl, I remember that yours were thick; and the luxuriance gave
+you a certain tropical and savage charm. And your hair was plentiful and
+curling, intensely black; I believe it was your greatest care in life.
+Don't you remember how often you explained to me that nothing was so
+harmful as to brush it, and how proud you were that it hung in glorious
+locks to your very knees?
+
+Hardly any girl in Seville is too poor to have a _peinadora_ to do her
+hair; and these women go from house to house, combing and arranging the
+coiffure for such infinitesimal sums as half a _real_, which is little
+more than a penny.
+
+Again I try to be impersonal. The complexion ranges through every
+quality from dark olive to pearly white; but yours, Rosarito, was like
+the very finest ivory, a perfect miracle of delicacy and brilliance; and
+the blood in the cheeks shone through with a rich, soft red. I used to
+think it was a colour by itself, not to be found on palettes, the
+carnation of your cheeks, Rosarito. And none could walk with such
+graceful dignity as you; it was a pleasure to watch your perfect ease,
+your self-command. Your feet, I think, were somewhat long; but your
+hands were wonderful, very small, admirably modelled, with little
+tapering fingers, and the most adorable filbert nails. Don't you
+remember how I used to look at them, and turn them over and discuss them
+point by point? And if ever I kissed their soft, warm palms, (I think it
+possible, though I have no vivid recollections,) remember that I was
+twenty-three; and it was certainly an appropriate gesture in the little
+comedy which to our mutual entertainment we played so gravely.
+
+Now, as I write, my heart goes pit-a-pat, thinking of you, Rosarito; and
+I'm sure that if we had over again that charming time, I should fall
+head over ears in love. Oh, you know we were both fibbing when we vowed
+we adored one another; I am a romancer by profession, and you by nature.
+We parted joyously, and you had the grace not to force a tear, and
+neither of our hearts was broken. Where are you now, I wonder; and do
+you ever think of me?
+
+* * *
+
+The whole chapter of Andalusian beauty is unfolded in the tobacco
+factory at Seville. Six thousand women work there, at little tables
+placed by the columns which uphold the roof; they are of all ages, of
+all types; plain, pretty, commonplace, beautiful; and ten, perhaps, are
+lovely. The gipsies are disappointing, not so comely as the pure
+Spaniards; and they attract only by the sphinx-like mystery of their
+copper-coloured skin, by their hard, unfathomable eyes.
+
+The Sevillans are perhaps inclined to stoutness, but that is a charm in
+their lover's sight, and often have a little down on the upper lip, than
+which, when it amounts to no more than a shadow, nothing can be more
+enchanting. They look with malicious eyes as you saunter through room
+after room in the factory; it is quite an experience to run the gauntlet
+of their numerous tongues, making uncomplimentary remarks about your
+person, sometimes to your embarrassment offering you the carnation from
+their hair, or other things. Their clothes are suspended to the pillars,
+and their costume in summer is more adapted for coolness than for the
+inspection of decorous foreigners. They may bring with them babies, and
+many a girl will have a cradle by her side, which she rocks with one
+foot as her fingers work nimbly at the cigarettes.
+
+They are very oriental, these women with voluptuous forms; they have no
+education, and with all their charm are unutterably stupid; they do not
+read, and find even newspapers tiresome! Those whose circumstances do
+not force them to work for their living, love nothing better than to lie
+for long hours on a sofa, neither talking nor thinking, in easy gowns,
+untrammelled by tight-fitting things. In the morning they put on a
+_mantilla_ and go to mass, and besides, except to pay a polite visit on
+a friend or to drive in the Paseo, hardly leave the house. They are
+content with the simplest life. They adore their children, and willingly
+devote themselves entirely to them; they seem never to be bored.
+
+For them the days must come and go without distinction. Their fleeting
+beauty leaves them imperceptibly; they grow fat, they grow thin,
+wrinkled, and gaunt; the years pass and their life proceeds without
+change. They do not think, they do not live: they merely exist, and they
+die, and that is the end of it. I suppose they are as happy as any one
+else. After all, taking it from one point of view, it matters very
+little what sort of life one leads, there are so many people in the
+world, such millions have come and gone, such millions will come and go.
+If an individual makes no use of his hour what does it signify? He is
+only one among countless hordes. In the existence of these handsome
+creatures, so passionate and yet so apathetic, there are no particular
+pleasures beside the simple joys of sense, but on the other hand, beyond
+the inevitable separations of death, there are no outstanding griefs.
+They propagate their species, and that, perhaps, is the only quite
+certain duty that human beings have.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+[Sidenote: The Dance]
+
+
+Cervantes said that there was never born a Spanish woman but she was
+made to dance; and he might have added that in the South, at all events,
+most men share the enviable faculty. The dance is one of the most
+characteristic features of Andalusia, and as an amusement rivals in
+popularity even the bull-fight. The Sevillans dance on every possible
+occasion, and nothing pleases them more than the dexterity of
+professionals. Before a company has been assembled half an hour some one
+is bound to suggest that a couple should show their skill; room is
+quickly made, the table pushed against the wall, the chairs drawn back,
+and they begin. Even when men are alone in a tavern, drinking wine, two
+of them will often enough stand up to tread a _seguidilla_. On a rainy
+day it is the entertainment that naturally recommends itself.
+
+Riding through the villages round Seville on Sundays it delighted me to
+see little groups making a circle about the house doors, in the middle
+of which were dancing two girls in bright-coloured clothes, with roses
+in their hair. A man seated on a broken chair was twanging a guitar, the
+surrounders beat their hands in time and the dancers made music with
+their castanets. Sometimes on a feast-day I came across a little band,
+arrayed in all its best, that had come into the country for an
+afternoon's diversion, and sat on the grass in the shade of summer or in
+the wintry sun. Whenever Andalusians mean to make merry some one will
+certainly bring a guitar, or if not the girls have their castanets; and
+though even these are wanting and no one can be induced to sing, a
+rhythmical clapping of hands will be sufficient accompaniment, and the
+performers will snap their fingers in lieu of castanets.
+
+It is charming then to see the girls urge one another to dance; each
+vows with much dramatic gesture that she cannot, calling the Blessed
+Virgin to witness that she has strained her ankle and has a shocking
+cold. But some youth springs up and volunteers, inviting a particular
+damsel to join him. She is pushed forward, and the couple take their
+places. The man carefully puts down his cigarette, jams his
+broad-brimmed hat on his head, buttons his short coat and arches his
+back! The spectators cry: '_Ole!_' The girl passes an arranging hand
+over her hair. The measure begins. The pair stand opposite one another,
+a yard or so distant, and foot it in accordance with one another's
+motions. It is not a thing of complicated steps, but, as one might
+expect from its Moorish origin, of movements of the body. With much
+graceful swaying from side to side the executants approach and retire,
+and at the middle of the dance change positions. It finishes with a
+great clapping of hands, the maiden sinks down among her friends and
+begins violently to fan herself, while her partner, with a great
+affectation of nonchalance, takes a seat and relights his cigarette.
+
+And in the music-halls the national dances are, with the national songs,
+the principal attraction. Seville possesses but one of these
+establishments; it is a queer place, merely the _patio_ of a private
+house, with a stage at one end, in which chairs and tables have been
+placed. On holiday nights it is crammed with students, with countrymen
+and artisans, with the general riff-raff of the town, and with women of
+no particular reputation. Now and then appears a gang of soldiers,
+giving a peculiar note with the uniformity of their brown holland suits;
+and occasionally a couple of British sailors come sauntering in with
+fine self-assurance, their fair hair and red cheeks contrasting with the
+general swartness. You pay no entrance money, but your refreshment costs
+a _real_--which is twopence ha'penny; and for that you may enjoy not
+only a cup of coffee or a glass of manzanilla, but an evening's
+entertainment. As the night wears on the heat is oven-like, and the air
+is thick and grey with the smoke of countless cigarettes.
+
+The performance consists of three 'turns' only, and these are repeated
+every hour. The company boasts generally of a male singer, a female
+singer, and of the _corps de ballet_, which is made up of six persons.
+Spain is the stronghold of the out-of-date, and I suppose it alone
+preserves the stiff muslin ballet-skirts which delighted our fathers. To
+see half-a-dozen dancers thus attired in a remote Andalusian music-hall
+is so entirely unexpected that it quite takes the breath away. But by
+the time the traveller reaches Seville he must be used to disillusion,
+and he must be ingenuous indeed if he expects the Spaniards to have
+preserved their national costume for the most national of their
+pastimes. Yet the dances are still Spanish; and even if the pianoforte
+has ousted the guitar, the castanets give, notwithstanding, a
+characteristic note which the aggressive muslin and the pink,
+ill-fitting tights cannot entirely destroy.
+
+* * *
+
+But I remember one dancer who was really a great artist. She was
+ill-favoured, of middle age, thin; but every part of her was imbued with
+grace, expressive, from the tips of her toes to the tips of her fingers.
+The demands of the public sometimes forced upon her odious
+ballet-skirts, sometimes she wasted her talent on the futilities of
+skirt-dancing; but chiefly she loved the national measures, and her
+phenomenal leanness made her only comfortable in the national dress. She
+travelled from place to place in Spain with another woman whom she had
+taught to dance, and whose beauty she used cleverly as a foil to her own
+uncomeliness; and so wasted herself in these low resorts, earning hardly
+sufficient to keep body and soul together. I wish I could remember her
+name.
+
+When she began to dance you forgot her ugliness; her gaunt arms gained
+shape, her face was transfigured, her dark eyes flashed, and her mouth
+and smile said a thousand eloquent things. Even the nape of her neck,
+which in most women has no significance, with her was expressive. A
+consummate actress, she exhibited all her skill in the _bolero_, which
+represents a courtship; she threw aside the castanets and wrapped
+herself in a _mantilla_, while her companion, dressed as a man, was
+hidden in a _capa_. The two passed one another, he trying to see the
+lady's face, which she averted, but not too strenuously; he pursued, she
+fled, but not too rapidly. Dropping his cloak, the lover attacked with
+greater warmth, while alternately she repelled and lured him on. At last
+she too cast away the _mantilla_. They seized the castanets and danced
+round one another with all manner of graceful and complicated
+evolutions, making love, quarrelling, pouting, exhibiting every variety
+of emotion. The dance grew more passionate, the steps flew faster, till
+at last, with the music, both stopped suddenly dead still. This abrupt
+cessation is one of the points most appreciated by a Spanish audience.
+'_Ole!_' they cry,'_bien parado!_'
+
+But when, unhampered by a partner, this nameless, exquisite dancer gave
+full play to her imagination, there was no end to the wildness of her
+fancy, to the intricacy and elaboration of her measures, to the gay
+audacity of her movements. She performed a hundred feats, each more
+difficult than the other--and all impossible to describe.
+
+* * *
+
+Then, between Christmas and Lent, at midnight on Saturdays and Sundays,
+the tables and the chairs are cleared away for the masked ball; and you
+will see the latest mode of Spanish dance. The women are of the lowest
+possible class; some, with a kind of savage irony, disguised as nuns,
+others in grotesque dominos of their own devising; but most wear
+every-day clothes with great shawls draped about them. The men are of a
+corresponding station, and through the evening wear their broad-brimmed
+hats. On the stage is a brass band, which plays one single tune till
+day-break, and to that one single measure is danced--the _habanera_.
+
+In this alone may people take part as in any round dance. The couples
+hold one another in the very tightest embrace, the lady clasping her
+arms round her partner's neck, while he places both his about her waist.
+They go round the room very slowly, immediately behind one another; it
+is a kind of straight polka, with a peculiar, rhythmic swaying of the
+body; the feet are not lifted off the floor, and you do not turn at all.
+The highest gravity is preserved throughout, and the whole performance
+is--well, very oriental.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+[Sidenote: A Feast Day]
+
+
+I arrived in Seville on the Eve of the Immaculate Conception. All day
+people had been preparing to celebrate the feast, decorating their
+houses with great banners of blue and white; and at night the silent,
+narrow streets had a strange appearance, for in every window were
+lighted candles, throwing around them a white, unusual glare; they
+looked a little like the souls of infants dead. All day the bells of a
+hundred churches had been ringing, half drowned by the rolling peals of
+the Giralda.
+
+It had been announced that the archbishop would himself officiate at the
+High Mass in the Blessed Virgin's honour; and early in the morning the
+cathedral steps were crowded with black-robed women, making their way to
+the great sacristy where was to be held the service. I joined the
+throng, and entering through the darkness of the porch, was almost
+blinded by the brilliant altar, upon which stood a life-sized image of
+the Virgin, surrounded by a huge aureole, with great bishops, all of
+silver, on either side. It was ablaze with the light of many candles, so
+that the nave was thrown into deep shadow, and the kneeling women were
+scarcely visible.
+
+The canons in the choir listlessly droned their prayers. At last the
+organ burst forth, and a long procession slowly came into the chapel,
+priests in white and blue, the colours of the Virgin, four bishops in
+mitres, the archbishop with his golden crozier; and preceding them all,
+in odd contrast, the beadle in black, with a dark periwig, bearing a
+silver staff. From the choir in due order they returned to the altar,
+headed this time by three pairs of acolytes, bearing great silver
+candlesticks, and by incense-burners, that filled the church with rich
+perfume.
+
+When the Mass was finished, a young dark man in copious robes of violet
+ascended the pulpit and muttered a text. He waited an instant to collect
+himself, looking at the congregation; then turning to the altar began a
+passionate song of praise to the Blessed Virgin, unsoiled by original
+sin. He described her as in a hundred pictures the great painter of the
+Immaculate Conception has portrayed her--a young and graceful maid,
+clothed in a snowy gown of ample folds, with an azure cloak, a maid
+mysteriously pure; her hair, floating on the shoulders in luxurious
+ringlets, was an aureole more glorious than the silver rays which
+surrounded the great image; her dark eyes, with their languid lashes,
+her mouth, with the red lips, expressed a beautiful and immaculate
+virtue. It might have been some earthly woman of whom the priest spoke,
+one of those Andalusians that knelt below him, flashing quick glances at
+the gallant who negligently leaned against a pillar.
+
+The archbishop sat on his golden throne--a thin, small man with a
+wrinkled face, with dead and listless eyes; in his gorgeous vestments
+he looked hardly human, he seemed a puppet, sitting stilly. At the end
+of the sermon he went back to the altar, and in his low, broken voice
+read the prayers. And then turning towards the great congregation he
+gave the plenary absolution, for which the Pope's Bull had been read
+from the pulpit steps.
+
+* * *
+
+In the afternoon, when the sun was going down behind the Guadalquivir,
+over the plain, I went again to the cathedral. The canons in the choir
+still droned their chant in praise of the Blessed Virgin, and in the
+greater darkness the altar shone more magnificently. The same procession
+filed through the nave, some priests were in black, some in violet, some
+in the Virgin's colours; but this time the archbishop wore gorgeous
+robes of scarlet, and as he knelt at the altar his train spread to the
+chancel steps. From the side appeared ten boys and knelt before the
+altar, and stood in two lines facing one another. They were dressed like
+pages of the seventeenth century, with white stockings and breeches, and
+a doublet of blue and silver, holding in their hands hats with long
+feathers. The archbishop, kneeling in front of the throne, buried his
+face in his hands.
+
+A soft melody, played by violins and 'cellos, broke the silence, and
+presently the ten pages began to sing:
+
+    _Los cielos y la tierra alaben al Senor_
+    _Con imnos de alabanza que inflamen al Senor._
+
+It was a curious, old-fashioned music, reminding one a little of the
+quiet harmonies of Gluck. Then, putting on their hats, the pages danced,
+continuing their song; they wound in and out of one another, gravely
+footing it, swaying to and fro with the music very slowly. The measure
+was performed with the utmost reverence. Now and then the chorus came,
+and the fresh boys' voices, singing in unison, filled the church with
+delightful melody. And still the old archbishop prayed, his face buried
+in his hands.
+
+The boys ceased to sing, but continued the dance, marking the time now
+with castanets, and the mundane instrument contrasted strangely with the
+glittering altar and with the kneeling priests. I wondered of what the
+archbishop thought, kneeling so humbly--of the boys dancing before the
+altar, fresh and young? Was he thinking of their white souls darkening
+with the sins of the world, or of the troubles, the disillusionments of
+life, and the decrepitude? Or was it of himself--did he think of his own
+youth, so long past, so hopelessly gone, or did he think that he was old
+and worn, and of the dark journey before him, and of the light that
+seemed so distant? Did he regret his beautiful Seville with the blue
+sky, and the orange-trees bowed down with their golden fruit? He seemed
+so small and weak, overwhelmed in his gorgeous robes.
+
+Again the ten boys repeated their song and dance and their castanets,
+and with a rapid genuflection disappeared.
+
+The archbishop rose painfully from his knees and ascended to the altar.
+A priest held open a book before him, and another lighted the printed
+page with a candle; he read out a prayer. Then, kneeling down, he bent
+very low, as though he felt himself unworthy to behold the magnificence
+of the Queen of Heaven. The people fell to their knees, and a man's
+voice burst forth--_Ave Maria, gratia plena_; waves of passionate sound
+floated over the worshippers, upwards, towards heaven. And from the
+Giralda, the Moorish tower, the Christian bells rang joyfully. The
+archbishop turned towards the people; and when in his thin, broken voice
+he gave the benediction, one thought that no man in his heart felt such
+humility as the magnificent prince of the Church, Don Marcelo Spinola y
+Maestre, Archbishop of Seville.
+
+The people flocked out quickly, and soon only a few devout penitents
+remained. A priest came, waving censers before the altar, and thick
+volumes of perfume ascended to the Blessed Virgin. He disappeared, and
+one by one the candles were extinguished. The night crept silently along
+the church, and the silver image sank into the darkness; at last two
+candles only were left on the altar, high up, shining dimly.
+
+Outside the sky was still blue, bespattered with countless stars.
+
+     NOTE.--I believe there is no definite explanation of this ceremony,
+     and the legend told me by an ancient priest that it was invented
+     during the Moorish dominion so that Christian services might be
+     held under cover of a social gathering--intruding Muslims would be
+     told merely that people were there assembled to see boys dance and
+     to listen to their singing--is more picturesque than probable.
+     Rather does it seem analogous with the leaping of David the King
+     before the Ark of Jehovah, when he danced before the Lord with all
+     his might, girt with a linen Ephod; and this, if I may hazard an
+     opinion, was with a view to amuse a deity apt to be bored or
+     languid, just as Nautch girls dance to this day before the idols of
+     the Hindus, and tops are spun before Krishna to divert him.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+[Sidenote: The Giralda]
+
+
+The Christian bells rang joyfully from the Moorish tower, the great old
+bells christened with holy oil, _el Cantor_ the Singer, _la Gorda_ the
+Great, _San Miguel_. I climbed the winding passage till I came to the
+terrace where stood the ringers, and as they pulled their ropes the
+bells swung round on their axles, completing a circle, with deafening
+clamour. The din was terrific, so that the solid masonry appeared to
+shake, and I felt the vibrations of the surrounding air. It was a
+strange sensation to shout as loud as possible and hear no sound issue
+from my mouth.
+
+The Giralda, with its Moorish base and its Christian belfry, is a symbol
+of Andalusia. There is in the Ayuntamiento an old picture of the Minaret
+built by Djabir the Moor, nearly one hundred feet shorter than the
+completed tower, but surmounted by a battlemented platform on which are
+huge brazen balls and an iron standard. These were overthrown by an
+earthquake, and later, when the discoveries of Christopher Columbus had
+poured unmeasured riches into Seville, the Chapter commissioned Hernan
+Ruiz to add a belfry to the Moorish base. Hernan Ruiz nearly ruined the
+mosque at Cordova, but here he was entirely successful. Indeed it is
+extraordinary that the two parts should be joined in such admirable
+harmony. It is impossible to give in words an idea of the slender grace
+of the Giralda, it does not look a thing of bricks and mortar, it is so
+straight and light that it reminds one vaguely of some beautiful human
+thing. The great height is astonishing, there is no buttress or
+projection to break the very long straight line as it rises, with a kind
+of breathless speed, to the belfry platform. And then the renaissance
+building begins, ascending still more, a sort of filigree work,
+excessively rich, and elegant beyond all praise. It is surmounted by a
+female figure of bronze, representing Faith and veering with every
+breeze, and the artist has surrounded his work with the motto: _Nomen
+Domini Fortissima Turris_.
+
+But the older portion gains another charm from the Moorish windows that
+pierce it, one above the other, with horseshoe arches; and from the
+arabesque network with which the upper part is diapered, a brick
+trellis-work against the brick walls, of the most graceful and delicate
+intricacy. The Giralda is almost toylike in the daintiness of its
+decoration. Notwithstanding its great size it is a masterpiece of
+exquisite proportion. At night it stands out with strong lines against
+the bespangled sky, and the lights of the watchers give it a magic
+appearance of some lacelike tower of imagination; but on high festivals
+it is lit with countless lamps, and then, as Richard Ford puts it, hangs
+from the dark vault of heaven like a brilliant chandelier.
+
+I looked down at Seville from above. A Spanish town wears always its
+most picturesque appearance thus seen, but it is never different; the
+_patios_ glaring with whitewash, the roofs of brown and yellow tiles,
+and the narrow streets, winding in unexpected directions, narrower than
+ever from such a height and dark with shade, so that they seem black
+rivulets gliding stealthily through the whiteness. Looking at a northern
+city from a tall church tower all things are confused with one another,
+the slate roofs join together till it is like a huge uneven sea of grey;
+but in Seville the atmosphere is so limpid, the colour so brilliant,
+that every house is clearly separated from its neighbour, and sometimes
+there appears to be between them a preternatural distinctness. Each
+stands independently of any other; you might suppose yourself in a
+strange city of the _Arabian Nights_ where a great population lived in
+houses crowded together, but invisibly, so that each person fancied
+himself in isolation.
+
+Immediately below was the Cathedral and to remind you of Cordova, the
+Court of Oranges; but here was no sunny restfulness, nor old-world
+quiet. The Court is gloomy and dark, and the trim rows of orange-trees
+contrast oddly with the grey stone of the Cathedral, its huge porches,
+and the flamboyant exuberance of its decoration. The sun never shines in
+it and no fruit splash the dark foliage with gold. You do not think of
+the generations of priests who have wandered in it on the summer
+evenings, basking away their peaceful lives in the sunshine; but rather
+of the busy merchants who met there in the old days when it was still
+the exchange of Seville, before the Lonja was built, to discuss the war
+with England, or the fate of ships bringing gold from America. At one
+end of the court is an old stone pulpit from which preached St. Francis
+of Borga and St. Vincent Ferrer and many an unknown monk besides. Then
+it was thronged with multi-coloured crowds, with townsmen, soldiers and
+great noblemen, when the faith was living and strong; and the preacher,
+with all the gesture and the impassioned rhetoric of a Spaniard, poured
+out burning words of hate for Jew and Moor and Heretic, so that the
+listeners panted and a veil of blood passed before their eyes; or else
+uttered so eloquent a song in praise of the Blessed Virgin, immaculately
+conceived, that strong men burst into tears at the recital of her
+perfect beauty.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+[Sidenote: The Cathedral of Seville]
+
+
+Your first impression when you walk round the cathedral of Seville,
+noting with dismay the crushed cupolas and unsightly excrescences, the
+dinginess of colour, is not enthusiastic. It was built by German
+architects without a thought for the surrounding houses, brilliantly
+whitewashed, and the blue sky, and it proves the incongruity of northern
+art in a southern country; but even lowering clouds and mist could lend
+no charm to the late Gothic of _Santa Maria de la Sede_.
+
+The interior fortunately is very different. Notwithstanding the Gothic
+groining, as you enter from the splendid heat of noonday, (in the Plaza
+del Triunfo the sun beats down and the houses are more dazzling than
+snow,) the effect is thoroughly and delightfully Spanish. Light is very
+fatal to devotion and the Spaniards have been so wise as to make their
+churches extremely dark. At first you can see nothing. Incense floats
+heavily about you, filling the air, and the coolness is like a draught
+of fresh, perfumed water. But gradually the church detaches itself from
+the obscurity and you see great columns, immensely lofty. The spaces are
+large and simple, giving an impression of vast room; and the choir,
+walled up on three sides, in the middle of the nave as in all Spanish
+cathedrals, by obstructing the view gives an appearance of almost
+unlimited extent. To me it seems that in such a place it is easier to
+comprehend the majesty wherewith man has equipped himself. Science
+offers only thoughts of human insignificance; the vastness of the sea,
+the terror of the mountains, emphasise the fact that man is of no
+account, ephemeral as the leaves of summer. But in those bold aisles, by
+the pillars rising with such a confident pride towards heaven, it is
+almost impossible not to feel that man indeed is god-like, lord of the
+earth; and that the great array of nature is builded for his purpose.
+
+Typically Spanish also is the decoration, and very rich. The
+choir-stalls are of carved wood, florid and exuberant like the Spanish
+imagination; the altars gleam with gold; pictures of saints are framed
+by golden pillars carved with huge bunches of grapes and fruit and
+fantastic leaves. I was astounded at the opulence of the treasure; there
+were gorgeous altars of precious metal, great saints of silver, caskets
+of gold, monstrances studded with rare stones, crosses and crucifixes.
+The vestments were of unimaginable splendour: there were two hundred
+copes of all ages and of every variety, fifty of each colour, white for
+Christmas and Easter, red for Corpus Christi, blue for the Immaculate
+Conception, violet for Holy Week; there were the special copes of the
+Primate, copes for officiating bishops, copes for dignitaries from other
+countries and dioceses. They were of the richest velvet and satin,
+heavily embroidered with gold, many with saints worked in silk, so
+heavy that it seemed hardly possible for a man to bear them.
+
+In the Baptistery, filling it with warm light, is the _San Antonio_ of
+Murillo, than which no picture gives more intensely the religious
+emotion. The saint, tall and meagre, beautiful of face, looks at the
+Divine Child hovering in a golden mist with an ecstasy that is no longer
+human.
+
+It is interesting to consider whether an artist need feel the sentiment
+he desires to convey. Certainly many pictures have been painted under
+the influence of profound feeling which leave the spectator entirely
+cold, and it is probable enough that the early Italians felt few of the
+emotions which their pictures call forth. We know that the masterpieces
+of Perugino, so moving, so instinct with religious tenderness, were very
+much a matter of pounds, shillings and pence. But Luis de Vargas, on the
+other hand, daily humbled himself by scourging and by wearing a hair
+shirt, and Vicente Joanes prepared himself for a new picture by
+communion and confession; so that it is impossible to wonder at the rude
+and savage ardour of their work. And the impression that may be gathered
+of Murillo from his pictures is borne out by the study of his grave and
+simple life. He had not the turbulent piety of the other two, but a calm
+and sweet devotion, which led him to spend long hours in church,
+meditating. He, at any rate, felt all that he expressed.
+
+I do not know a church that gives the religious sentiment more
+completely than Seville Cathedral. The worship of the Spaniards is
+sombre, full-blooded, a thing of dark rich colours; it requires the
+heaviness of incense and that overloading of rococo decoration. It is
+curious that notwithstanding their extreme similarity to the
+Neapolitans, the Andalusians should in their faith differ so entirely.
+Of course, in Southern Italy religion is as full of superstition--an
+adoration of images in which all symbolism is lost and only the gross
+idol remains; but it is a gayer and a lighter thing than in Spain. Most
+characteristic of this is the difference between the churches; and with
+_Santa Maria de la Sede_ may well be contrasted the Neapolitan _Santa
+Chiara_, with its great windows, so airy and spacious, sparkling with
+white and gold. The paintings are almost frolicsome. It is like a
+ballroom, a typical place of worship for a generation that had no desire
+to pray, but strutted in gaudy silks and ogled over pretty fans,
+pretending to discuss the latest audacity of Monsieur Arouet de
+Voltaire.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+[Sidenote: The Hospital of Charity]
+
+
+The Spaniards possess to the fullest degree the art of evoking devout
+emotions, and in their various churches may be experienced every phase
+of religious feeling. After the majestic size and the solemn mystery of
+the Cathedral, nothing can come as a greater contrast than the Church of
+the Hermandad de la Caredad. It was built by don Miguel de Manara, who
+rests in the chancel, with the inscription over him: '_Aqui jacen los
+huesos y cenizas del peor hombre que ha habido en el mundo; ruegan por
+el_'--'Here lie the bones and ashes of the worst man that has ever been
+in the world; pray for him.' But like all Andalusians he was a braggart;
+for a love of chocolate, which appears to have been his besetting sin,
+is insufficient foundation for such a vaunt: a vice of that order is
+adequately punished by the corpulence it must occasion. However, legend,
+representing don Miguel as the most dissolute of libertines, is more
+friendly. The grave sister who escorts the visitor relates that one day
+in church don Miguel saw a beautiful nun, and undaunted by her habit,
+made amorous proposals. She did not speak, but turned to look at him,
+whereupon he saw the side of her face which had been hidden from his
+gaze, and it was eaten away by a foul and loathsome disease, so that it
+seemed more horrible than the face of death. The gallant was so
+terrified that he fainted, and afterwards the face haunted him, the face
+of matchless beauty and of revolting decay, so that he turned from the
+world. He devoted his fortune to rebuilding the hospital and church of
+the Brotherhood of Charity, whose chief office it was to administer the
+sacraments to those condemned to death and provide for their burial, and
+was eventually received into their Order.
+
+It was in the seventeenth century that Manara built his church, and
+consequently rococo holds sway with all its fantasies. It is small,
+without aisles or chapels, and the morbid opulence of the decoration
+gives it a peculiar character. The walls are lined with red damask, and
+the floor carpeted with a heavy crimson carpet; it gives the sensation
+of a hothouse, or, with its close odours, of a bedchamber transformed
+into a chapel for the administration of the last sacrament. The
+atmosphere is unhealthy: one pants for breath.
+
+At one end, taking up the entire wall, is a reredos by Pedro Roldan, of
+which the centrepiece is an elaborate 'Deposition in the Tomb,' with
+numerous figures coloured to the life. It is very fine in its mingling
+of soft, rich hues and flamboyant realism. The artist has revelled in
+the opportunity for anguish of expression that his subject afforded, but
+has treated it with such a passionate seriousness that, in his grim,
+fierce way, he does not fail to be impressive. The frame is of twisted
+golden pillars, supported by little naked angels, and decorated with
+grapes and vine-leaves. Above and at the sides are great saints in
+carved wood, and angels with floating drapery.
+
+Murillo was on terms of intimacy with don Miguel de Manara, and like him
+a member of the Hermandad. For his friend he painted some of his most
+famous pictures, which by the subdued ardour of their colour, by their
+opulent tones, harmonise most exquisitely with the church. Marshal
+Soult, with a fine love of art that was profitable, carried off several
+of them, and their empty frames stare at one still. But before that,
+when they were all in place, the effect must have been of unique
+magnificence.
+
+It must be an extraordinary religion that flourishes in such a place, an
+artificial faith that needs heat like tropical plants, that desires
+unnatural vows. It breathes of neurotic emotions with its damask-covered
+walls, with its carpet that deadens the footfall, its sombre, gorgeous
+pictures. The sweet breeze of heaven never enters there, nor the
+sunlight; the air is languid with incense; one is oppressed by a
+strange, heavy silence. In such a church sins must be fostered for the
+morbid pleasure of confession. One can imagine that the worshippers in
+that overloaded atmosphere would see strange visions, voluptuous and
+mystical; the Blessed Mary and the Saints might gain visible and
+palpable flesh, and the devil would not be far off. There the gruesome
+imaginings of Valdes Leal are a fitting decoration. Every one knows that
+grim picture of a bishop in episcopal robes, eaten by worms, his flesh
+putrefying, which led Murillo to say: 'Leal, you make me hold my nose,'
+and the other answered: 'You have taken all the flesh and left me
+nought but the bones.' Elsewhere, by the same master, there is a
+painting that suggests, with greater poignancy to my mind because less
+brutally, the thoughts evoked by the more celebrated work, and since it
+seems to complete the ideas awakened by this curious chapel, I mention
+it here.
+
+It represents a priest at the altar, saying his mass, and the altar
+after the Spanish fashion is sumptuous with gilt and florid carving. He
+wears a magnificent cope and a surplice of exquisite lace, but he wears
+them as though their weight were more than he could bear; and in the
+meagre, trembling hands, and in the white, ashen face, in the dark
+hollowness of the eyes and in the sunken cheeks, there is a bodily
+corruption that is terrifying. The priest seems to hold together with
+difficulty the bonds of the flesh, but with no eager yearning of the
+soul to burst its prison, only with despair; it is as if the Lord
+Almighty had forsaken him, and the high heavens were empty of their
+solace. All the beauty of life appears forgotten, and there is nothing
+in the world but decay. A ghastly putrefaction has attacked already the
+living man; the worms of the grave, the piteous horror of mortality, and
+the darkness before him offer nought but fear, and what soul is there to
+rise again! Beyond, dark night is seen and a turbulent sea, the dark
+night of the soul of which the mystics write, and the troublous sea of
+life whereon there is no refuge for the weary and the sick at heart.
+
+* * *
+
+Then, if you would study yet another phase of the religious sentiment,
+go to the Museo, where are the fine pictures that Murillo painted for
+the Capuchin Monastery. You will see all the sombreness of Spanish
+piety, the savage faith, dissolved into ineffable love. Religion has
+become a wonderful tenderness, in which passionate human affection is
+inextricably mingled with god-like adoration. Murillo, these sensual
+forms quivering with life, brought the Eternal down to earth, and gave
+terrestrial ardour to the apathy of an impersonal devotion; that,
+perhaps, is why to women he has always been the most fascinating of
+painters. In the _Madonna de la Servilleta_--painted on a napkin for the
+cook of the monastery--the child is a simple, earthly infant, fresh and
+rosy, with wide-open, wondering eyes and not a trace of immortality. I
+myself saw a common woman of the streets stand before this picture with
+tears running down her cheeks.
+
+'_Corazon de mi alma!_' she said, 'Heart of my soul! I could cover his
+little body with kisses.'
+
+She smiled, but could hardly restrain her sobs. The engrossing love of a
+mother for her child seemed joined in miraculous union with the worship
+of a mortal for his God.
+
+Murillo had neither the power nor the desire to idealise his models. The
+saints of these great pictures, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Felix of
+Cantalicio, St. Thomas of Villanueva, are monks and beggars such as may
+to this day be seen in the streets of Seville. St. Felix is merely an
+old man with hollow cheeks and a grey, ragged beard; but yet as he
+clasps the child in his arms with eager tenderness, he is transfigured
+by a divine ecstasy: his face is radiant with the most touching
+emotion. And St. Antony of Padua, in another picture, worships the
+infant God with a mystic adoration, which, notwithstanding the realism
+of the presentment, lifts him far, far above the earth.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+[Sidenote: Gaol]
+
+
+I was curious to see the prison in Seville. Gruesome tales had been told
+me of its filth and horror, and the wretched condition of the prisoners;
+I had even heard that from the street you might see them pressing
+against the barred windows with arms thrust through, begging the
+passer-by for money or bread. Mediaeval stories recurred to my mind and
+the clank of chains trailed through my imagination.
+
+I arranged to be conducted by the prison doctor, and one morning soon
+after five set out to meet him. My guide informed me by a significant
+gesture that his tendencies were--bibulous, and our meeting-place was a
+tavern; but when we arrived they told us that don Felipe--such was his
+name--had been taken his morning dram and gone; however, if we went to
+another inn we should doubtless find him. But there we heard he had not
+yet arrived, he was not due till half-past five. To pass the time we
+drank a mouthful of _aguardiente_ and smoked a cigarette, and eventually
+the medico was espied in the distance. We went towards him--a round, fat
+person with a red face and a redder nose, somewhat shabbily dressed.
+
+He looked at me pointedly and said:
+
+'I'm dry. _Vengo seco._'
+
+It was a hint not to be neglected, and we returned to the tavern where
+don Felipe had his nip.
+
+'It's very good for the stomach,' he assured me.
+
+We sallied forth together, and as we walked he told me the number of
+prisoners, the sort of crimes for which they were detained--ranging from
+man-slaughter to petty larceny--and finally, details of his own career.
+He was an intelligent man, and when we came to the prison door insisted
+on drinking my health.
+
+The prison is an old convent, and it is a little startling to see the
+church facade, with a statue of the Madonna over the central porch. At
+the steps a number of women stood waiting with pots and jars and
+handkerchiefs full of food for their relatives within; and when the
+doctor appeared several rushed up to ask about a father or a son that
+lay sick. We went in and there was a melodramatic tinkling of keys and
+an unlocking of heavy doors.
+
+The male prisoners, the adults, were in the _patio_ of the convent,
+where in olden days the nuns had wandered on summer evenings, watering
+their roses. The iron door was opened and shut behind us; there was a
+movement of curiosity at the sight of a stranger, and many turned to
+look at me. Such as had illnesses came to the doctor, and he looked at
+their tongues and felt their pulse, giving directions to an assistant
+who stood beside him with a note-book. Don Felipe was on excellent terms
+with his patients, laughing and joking; a malingerer asked if he could
+not have a little wine because his throat was sore; the doctor jeered
+and the man began to laugh; they bandied repartees with one another.
+
+There were about two hundred in the _patio_, and really they did not
+seem to have so bad a time. There was one large group gathered round a
+man who read a newspaper aloud; it was Monday morning, and all listened
+intently to the account of a bull-fight on the previous day, bursting
+into a little cry of surprise and admiration on hearing that the
+_matador_ had been caught and tossed. Others lay by a pillar playing
+draughts for matches, while half a dozen more eagerly watched, giving
+unsolicited advice with much gesticulation. The draught-board consisted
+of little squares drawn on the pavement with chalk, and the pieces were
+scraps of white and yellow paper. One man sat cross-legged by a column
+busily rolling cigarettes; he had piles of them by his side arranged in
+packets, which he sold at one penny each; it was certainly an illegal
+offence, because the sale of tobacco is a government monopoly, but if
+you cannot break the laws in prison where can you break them? Others
+occupied themselves by making baskets or nets. But the majority did
+nothing at all, standing about, sitting when they could, with the
+eternal cigarette between their lips; and the more energetic watched the
+blue smoke curl into the air. Altogether a very happy family!
+
+Nor did they seem really very criminal, more especially as they wore no
+prison uniform, but their own clothes. I saw no difference between them
+and the people I met casually in the street. They were just very
+ordinary citizens, countrymen smelling of the soil, labouring men,
+artisans. Their misfortune had been only to make too free a use of their
+long curved knives or to be discovered taking something over which
+another had prior claims. But in Andalusia every one is potentially as
+criminal, which is the same as saying that these jail-birds were
+estimable persons whom an unkind fate and a mistaken idea of justice had
+separated for a little while from their wives and families.
+
+I saw two only whose aspect was distinctly vicious. One was a tall
+fellow with shifty eyes, a hard thin mouth, a cruel smile, and his face
+was really horrible. I asked the doctor why he was there. Don Felipe,
+without speaking, made the peculiar motion of the fingers which
+signifies robbery, and the man seeing him repeated it with a leer. I
+have seldom seen a face that was so utterly repellent, so depraved and
+wicked: I could not get it out of my head, and for a long time saw
+before me the crafty eyes and the grinning mouth. Obviously the man was
+a criminal born who would start thieving as soon as he was out of
+prison, hopelessly and utterly corrupt. But it was curious that his
+character should be marked so plainly on his face; it was a
+danger-signal to his fellows, and one would have thought the suspicion
+it aroused must necessarily keep him virtuous. It was a countenance that
+would make a man instinctively clap his hand to his pocket.
+
+The other was a Turk, a huge creature, with dark scowling face and
+prominent brows; he made a singular figure in his bright fez and baggy
+breeches, looking at his fellow prisoners with a frown of hate.
+
+But the doctor had finished seeing his patients and the iron door was
+opened for us to go out. We went upstairs to the hospital, a long bare
+ward, terribly cheerless. Six men, perhaps, lay in bed, guarded by two
+warders; one old fellow with rheumatism groaning in agony, two others
+dazed and very still, with high fever. We walked round quickly, don
+Felipe as before mechanically looking at their tongues and feeling their
+pulse, speaking a word to the assistant and moving on. The windows were
+shut and there was a horrid stench of illness and drugs and antiseptics.
+
+We went through long corridors to the female side, and meanwhile the
+assistant told the doctor that during the night a woman had been
+confined. Don Felipe sat down in an office to write a certificate.
+
+'What a nuisance these women are!' he said. 'Why can't they wait till
+they get out of prison? How is it?'
+
+'It was still-born.'
+
+'_Pero, hombre_,' said the doctor crossly. 'Why didn't you tell me that
+before? Now I shall have to write another certificate. This one's no
+good.'
+
+He tore it up and painfully made out a second with the slow laborious
+writing of a man unused to holding a pen.
+
+Then we marched on and came to another smaller _patio_ where the females
+were. They were comparatively few, not more than twenty or thirty; and
+when we entered a dark inner-room to see the woman who was ill they all
+trooped in after us--all but one. They stood round eagerly telling us of
+the occurrence.
+
+'Don't make such a noise, _por Dios_! I can't hear myself speak,' said
+the doctor.
+
+The woman was lying on her back with flushed cheeks, her eyes staring
+glassily. The doctor asked a question, but she did not answer. She began
+to cry, sobbing from utter weakness in a silent, unrestrained way. On a
+table near her, hidden by a cloth, lay the dead child.
+
+We went out again into the _patio_. The sun was higher now and it was
+very warm, the blue sky shone above us without a cloud. The prisoners
+returned to their occupations. One old hag was doing a younger woman's
+hair; I noticed that even for Spain it was beautiful, very thick,
+curling, and black as night. The girl held a carnation in her hand to
+put in front of the comb when the operation was completed. Another woman
+suckled a baby, and several tiny children were playing about happily,
+while their mothers chatted to one another, knitting.
+
+But there was one, markedly different from the others, who sat alone
+taking no notice of the scene. It was she who remained in the _patio_
+when the rest followed us into the sick room, a gipsy, tall and gaunt,
+with a skin of the darkest yellow. Her hair was not elaborately arranged
+as that of her companions, but plainly done, drawn back stiffly from the
+forehead. She sat there, erect and motionless, looking at the ground
+with an unnatural stare, silent. They told me she never spoke a word
+nor paid attention to the women in the court. She might have been
+entirely alone. She never altered her position, but sat there,
+sphinx-like, in that attitude of stony grief. She was a stranger among
+the rest, and her bronzed face, her silence gave a weird impression; she
+seemed to recall the burning deserts of the East and an endless past.
+
+At last we came out, and the heavy iron door was closed behind us. What
+a relief it was to be in the street again, to see the sun and the trees,
+and to breathe the free air! A cart went by with a great racket, drawn
+by three mules, and the cries of the driver as he cracked his whip were
+almost musical; a train of donkeys passed; a man trotted by on a brown
+shaggy cob, his huge panniers filled with glowing vegetables, green and
+red, and in a corner was a great bunch of roses. I took long breaths of
+the free air, I shook myself to get rid of those prison odours.
+
+I offered don Felipe refreshment and we repaired to a dram-shop
+immediately opposite. Two women were standing there.
+
+'_Ole!_' said the doctor to an old toothless hag with a vicious leer.
+'What are you doing here? You've not been in for some time.'
+
+She laughed and explained that she was come to fetch her friend, a young
+woman, who had been released that morning. The doctor nodded to her,
+asking how long she had been in gaol.
+
+'Two years and nine months,' she said.
+
+And she began to laugh hysterically with tears streaming down her
+cheeks.
+
+'I don't know what I'm doing,' she cried. 'I can't understand it.'
+
+She looked into the street with wild, yearning eyes; everything seemed
+to her strange and new.
+
+'I haven't seen a tree for nearly three years,' she sobbed.
+
+But the hag was pressing the doctor to drink with her; he accepted
+without much hesitation, and gallantly proposed her health.
+
+'What are you going to do?' he said to the younger woman, she was hardly
+more than a girl. 'You'd better not hang about in Seville or you'll get
+into trouble again.'
+
+'Oh no,' she said, 'I'm going to my village--_mi pueblo_--this
+afternoon. I want to see my husband and my child.'
+
+Don Felipe turned to me and asked what I thought of the Seville prison.
+I made some complimentary reply.
+
+'Are English prisons like that?' he asked.
+
+I said I did not think so.
+
+'Are they better?'
+
+I shrugged my shoulders.
+
+'I'm told,' he said, 'that two years' hard labour in an English prison
+kills a man.'
+
+'The English are a great nation,' I replied.
+
+'And a humane one,' he added, with a bow and a smile.
+
+I bade him good-morning.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+[Sidenote: Before the Bull-fight]
+
+
+If all Andalusians are potential gaol-birds they are also potential
+bull-fighters. It is impossible for foreigners to realise how firmly the
+love of that pastime is engrained in all classes. In other countries the
+gift that children love best is a box of soldiers, but in Spain it is a
+miniature ring with tin bulls, _picadors_ on horseback and _toreros_.
+From their earliest youth boys play at bull-fighting, one of them taking
+the bull's part and charging with the movements peculiar to that animal,
+while the rest make passes with their coats or handkerchiefs. Often, to
+increase the excitement of the game, they have two horns fixed on a
+piece of wood. You will see them playing it at every street corner all
+day long, and no amusement can rival it; with the result that by the
+time a boy is fifteen he has acquired considerable skill in the
+exercise, and a favourite entertainment then is to hire a bull-calf for
+an afternoon and practise with it. Every urchin in Andalusia knows the
+names of the most prominent champions and can tell you their merits.
+
+The bull-fight is the national spectacle; it excites Spaniards as
+nothing else can, and the death of a famous _torero_ is more tragic than
+the loss of a colony. Seville looks upon itself as the very home and
+centre of the art. The good king Ferdinand VII.--as precious a rascal as
+ever graced a throne--founded in Seville the first academy for the
+cultivation of tauromachy, and bull-fighters swagger through the Sierpes
+in great numbers and the most faultless costume.
+
+There are only five great bull-fights in a year at Seville, namely, on
+Easter day, on the three days of the fair, and on Corpus Christi. But
+during the summer _novilladas_ are held every Sunday, with bulls of
+three years old and young fighters. Long before an important _corrida_
+there is quite an excitement in the town. Gaudy bills are posted on the
+walls with the names of the performers and the proprietor of the bulls;
+crowds stand round reading them breathlessly, discussing with one
+another the chances of the fray; the papers give details and forecasts
+as in England they do for the better cause of horse-racing! And the
+journeyings of the _matador_ are announced as exactly as with us the
+doings of the nobility and gentry.
+
+The great _matador_, Mazzantini or Guerrita, arrives the day before the
+fight, and perhaps takes a walk in the Sierpes. People turn to look at
+him and acquaintances shake his hand, pleased that all the world may
+know how friendly they are with so great a man. The hero himself is calm
+and gracious. He feels himself a person of merit, and cannot be
+unconscious that he has a fortune of several million _pesetas_ bringing
+in a reasonable interest. He talks with ease and assurance, often
+condescends to joke, and elegantly waves his hand, sparkling with
+diamonds of great value.
+
+* * *
+
+Many persons have described a bull-fight, but generally their emotions
+have overwhelmed them so that they have seen only part of one
+performance, and consequently have been obliged to use an indignant
+imagination to help out a very faulty recollection. This is my excuse
+for giving one more account of an entertainment which can in no way be
+defended. It is doubtless vicious and degrading; but with the constant
+danger, the skill displayed, the courage, the hair-breadth escapes, the
+catastrophes, it is foolish to deny that any pastime can be more
+exciting.
+
+The English humanity to animals is one of the best traits of a great
+people, and they justly thank God they are not as others are. Can
+anything more horrid be imagined than to kill a horse in the bull-ring,
+and can any decent hack ask for a better end when he is broken down,
+than to be driven to death in London streets or to stand for hours on
+cab ranks in the rain and snow of an English winter? The Spaniards are
+certainly cruel to animals; on the other hand, they never beat their
+wives nor kick their children. From the dog's point of view I would ten
+times sooner be English, but from the woman's--I have my doubts. Some
+while ago certain papers, anxious perhaps to taste the comfortable joys
+of self-righteousness, turned their attention to the brutality of
+Spaniards, and a score of journalists wrote indignantly of bull-fights.
+At the same time, by a singular chance, a prize-fighter was killed in
+London, and the Spanish papers printed long tirades against the gross,
+barbaric English. The two sets of writers were equally vehement,
+inaccurate and flowery; but what seemed most remarkable was that each
+side evidently felt quite unaffected horror and disgust for the
+proceedings of the other. Like persons of doubtful character inveighing
+against the vices of the age, both were so carried away by moral
+enthusiasm as to forget that there was anything in their own histories
+which made this virtuous fury a little absurd. There is really a good
+deal in the point of view.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+[Sidenote: Corrida de Toros--I]
+
+
+On the day before a bull-fight all the world goes down to Tablada to see
+the bulls. Youth and beauty drive, for every one in Seville of the least
+pretension to gentility keeps a carriage; the Sevillans,
+characteristically, may live in houses void of every necessity and
+comfort, eating bread and water, but they will have a carriage to drive
+in the _paseo_. You see vehicles of all kinds, from the new landau with
+a pair of magnificent Andalusian horses, or the strange omnibus drawn by
+mules, typical of Southern Spain, to the shabby victoria, with a
+broken-down hack and a decrepit coachman.
+
+Tablada is a vast common without the town, running along the river side,
+and here all manner of cattle are kept throughout the year. But the
+fighting bulls are brought from their respective farms the morning
+before the day of battle, and each is put in an enclosure with its
+attendant oxen. The crowd looks eagerly, admiring the length of horn,
+forecasting the fight.
+
+The handsome brutes remain there till midnight, when they are brought to
+the ring and shut in little separate boxes till the morrow. The
+_encierro_, as it is called, is an interesting sight. The road has been
+palisaded and the bulls are driven along by oxen. It is very curious to
+wait in the darkness, in the silence, under the myriad stars of the
+southern night. Your ear is astrung to hear the distant tramp; the
+waiting seems endless. A sound is heard and every one runs to the side;
+but nothing follows, and the waiting continues. Suddenly the stillness
+is broken by tinkling bells, the oxen; and immediately there is a tramp
+of rushing hoofs. Three men on horseback gallop through the entrance,
+and on their heels the cattle; the riders turn sharply round, a door is
+swung to behind them, and the oxen, with the bulls in their midst, pound
+through the ring.
+
+* * *
+
+The doors are opened two hours before the performance. Through the
+morning the multitude has trooped to the Plaza San Fernando to buy
+tickets, and in the afternoon all Seville wends its way towards the
+ring. The road is thronged with people, they walk in dense crowds,
+pushing one another to get out of the way of broken-down shays that roll
+along filled with enthusiasts. The drivers crack their whips, shouting:
+'_Un real, un real a los Toros!_'{a} The sun beats down and the sky is
+intensely blue. It is very hot, already people are blowing and panting,
+boys sell fans at a halfpenny each. '_Abanicos a perra chica!_'{b}
+
+When you come near the ring the din is tremendous; the many vendors
+shout their wares, middlemen offer tickets at double the usual price,
+friends call to one another. Now and then is a quarrel, a quick exchange
+of abuse as one pushes or treads upon his neighbour; but as a rule all
+are astonishingly good-natured. A man, after a narrow escape from being
+run over, will shout a joke to the driver, who is always ready with a
+repartee. And they surge on towards the entrance. Every one is expectant
+and thrilled, the very air seems to give a sense of exhilaration. The
+people crowd in like ants. All things are gay and full of colour and
+life.
+
+A _picador_ passes on horseback in his uncouth clothes, and all turn to
+look at him.
+
+And in the ring itself the scene is marvellous. On one side the sun
+beats down with burning rays, and there, the seats being cheaper,
+notwithstanding the terrific heat people are closely packed. There is a
+perpetual irregular movement of thousands of women's fans fluttering to
+and fro. Opposite, in the shade, are nearly as many persons, but of
+better class. Above, in the boxes sit ladies in _mantillas_, and when a
+beautiful woman appears she is often greeted with a burst of applause,
+which she takes most unconcernedly. When at last the ring is full, tier
+above tier crammed so that not a place is vacant, it gives quite an
+extraordinary emotion. The serried masses cease then to be a collection
+of individuals, but gain somehow a corporate unity; you realise, with a
+kind of indeterminate fear, the many-headed beast of savage instincts
+and of ruthless might. No crowd is more picturesque than the Spanish,
+and the dark masculine costume vividly contrasts with the bright
+colours of the women, with flowers in their hair and _mantillas_ of
+white lace.
+
+But also the tremendous vitality of it all strikes you. Late arrivals
+walk along looking for room, gesticulating, laughing, bandying jokes;
+vendors of all sorts cry out their goods: the men who sell prawns,
+shrimps, and crabs' claws from Cadiz pass with large baskets: '_Bocas,
+bocas!_'
+
+The water sellers with huge jars: '_Agua, quien quiere agua? Agua!_'{c}
+The word sings along the interminable rows. A man demands a glass and
+hands down a halfpenny; a mug of sparkling water is sent up to him. It
+is deliciously cool.
+
+The sellers of lottery tickets, offering as usual the first prize:
+'_Premio gordo, quien quiere el premio gordo_';{d} or yelling the number
+of the ticket: 'Who wants number seventeen hundred and eighty-five for
+three _pesetas_?'
+
+And the newsboys add to the din: '_Noticiero! Porvenir!_' Later on
+arrives the Madrid paper: '_Heraldo! Heraldo!_'
+
+Lastly the men with stacks of old journals to use as seats: '_A perra
+chica, dos periodicos a perra chica!_'{e}
+
+Suddenly there is a great clapping of hands, and looking up you find the
+president has come; he is supported by two friends, and all three, with
+comic solemnity, wear tall hats and frock coats. They bow to the public.
+Bull-fighting is the only punctual thing in Spain, and the president
+arrives precisely as the clock strikes half-past four. He waves a
+handkerchief, the band strikes up, a door is opened, and the fighters
+enter. First come the three _matadors_, the eldest in the middle, the
+next on his right, and the youngest on the left; they are followed by
+their respective _cuadrillas_, the _banderilleros_, the _capeadors_, the
+_picadors_ on horseback, and finally the _chulos_, whose duty it is to
+unsaddle dead horses, attach the slaughtered bull to the team of mules,
+and perform other minor offices. They advance, gorgeous in their
+coloured satin and gold embroidery, bearing a cloak peculiarly folded
+over the arm; they walk with a kind of swinging motion, as ordained by
+the convention of a century. They bow to the president, very solemnly.
+The applause is renewed. They retire to the side, three _picadors_ take
+up their places at some distance from one another on the right of the
+door from which issues the bull. The _alguaciles_, in black velvet, with
+peaked and feathered hats, on horseback, come forward, and the key of
+the bull's den is thrown to them. They disappear. The fighters meanwhile
+exchange their satin cloaks for others of less value. There is another
+flourish of trumpets, the gates are opened for the bull.
+
+Then comes a moment of expectation, every one is trembling with
+excitement. There is perfect silence. All eyes are fixed on the open
+gate.
+
+Notes:
+
+{a} 'Twopence-halfpenny to the Bulls.'
+
+{b} "Fans, one halfpenny each!"
+
+{c} 'Water, who wants water? Water!'
+
+{d} 'The first prize, who wants the first prize?'
+
+{e} 'One halfpenny, two papers for one halfpenny.'
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+[Sidenote: Corrida de Toros--II]
+
+
+One or two shouts are heard, a murmur passes through the people, and the
+bull emerges--shining, black, with massive shoulders and fine horns. It
+advances a little, a splendid beast conscious of its strength, and
+suddenly stops dead, looking round. The _toreros_ wave their capes and
+the _picadors_ flourish their lances, long wooden spikes with an iron
+point. The bull catches sight of a horse, and lowering his head, bears
+down swiftly upon it. The _picador_ takes firmer hold of his lance, and
+when the brute reaches him plants the pointed end between its shoulders;
+at the same moment the senior _matador_ dashes forward and with his
+cloak distracts the bull's attention. It wheels round and charges; he
+makes a pass; it goes by almost under his arm, but quickly turns and
+again attacks. This time the skilful fighter receives it backwards,
+looking over his shoulder, and again it passes. There are shouts of
+enthusiasm from the public. The bull's glossy coat is stained with red.
+
+A second _picador_ comes forward, and the bull charges again, but
+furiously now, exerting its full might. The horse is thrown to the
+ground and the rider, by an evil chance, falls at the bull's very feet.
+
+It cannot help seeing him and lowers its head; the people catch their
+breath; many spring instinctively to their feet; here and there is a
+woman's frightened cry; but immediately a _matador_ draws the cape over
+its eyes and passionately the bull turns on him. Others spring forward
+and lift the _picador_: his trappings are so heavy that he cannot rise
+alone; he is dragged to safety and the steed brought back for him. One
+more horseman advances, and the bull with an angry snort bounds at him;
+the _picador_ does his best, but is no match for the giant strength. The
+bull digs its horns deep into the horse's side and lifts man and beast
+right off the ground; they fall with a heavy thud, and as the raging
+brute is drawn off, blood spurts from the horse's flank. The _chulos_
+try to get it up; they drag on the reins with shouts and curses, and
+beat it with sticks. But the wretched creature, wounded to the death,
+helplessly lifts its head. They see it is useless and quickly remove
+saddle and bridle, a man comes with a short dagger called the
+_puntilla_, which he drives into its head, the horse falls on its side,
+a quiver passes through its body, and it is dead. The people are
+shouting with pleasure; the bull is a good one. The first _picador_
+comes up again and the bull attacks for the fourth time, but it has lost
+much strength, and the man drives it off. It has made a horrible gash in
+the horse's belly, and the entrails protrude, dragging along the ground.
+The horse is taken out.
+
+The president waves his handkerchief, the trumpets sound, and the first
+act of the drama is over.
+
+The _picadors_ leave the ring and the _banderilleros_ take their darts,
+about three feet long, gay with decorations of coloured paper. While
+they make ready, others play with the bull, gradually tiring it: one
+throws aside his cape and awaits the charge with folded arms; the bull
+rushes at him, and the man without moving his feet twists his body away
+and the savage brute passes on. There is a great burst of applause for a
+daring feat well done.
+
+Each _matador_ has two _banderilleros_, and it is proper that three
+pairs of these darts should be placed. One of them steps to within
+speaking distance of the animal, and holding a _banderilla_ in each hand
+lifted above his head, stamps his foot and shouts insulting words. The
+bull does not know what this new thing is, but charges blindly; at the
+same moment the man runs forward, and passing, plants the two darts
+between the shoulders. If they are well placed there is plentiful
+hand-clapping; no audience is so liberal of applause for skill or
+courage, none so intolerant of cowardice or stupidity; and with equal
+readiness it will yell with delight or hiss and hoot and whistle. The
+second _banderillero_ comes forward to plant his pair; a third is
+inserted and the trumpets sound for the final scene.
+
+This is the great duel between the single man and the bull. The
+_matador_ advances, sword in hand, with the _muleta_, the red cloth for
+the passes, over his arm. Under the president's box he takes off his
+hat, and with fine gesture makes a grandiloquent speech, wherein he vows
+either to conquer or to die: the harangue is finished with a wheel round
+and a dramatic flinging of his hat to attendants on the other side of
+the barrier. He pensively walks forward. All eyes are upon him--and he
+knows it. He motions his companions to stand back and goes close to the
+bull. He is quite alone, with his life in his hands--a slender figure,
+very handsome in the gorgeous costume glittering with fine gold. He
+arranges the _muleta_ over a little stick, so that it hangs down like a
+flag and conceals his sword. Then quite solemnly he walks up to the
+bull, holding the red rag in his left hand. The bull watches
+suspiciously, suddenly charges, and the _muleta_ is passed over its
+head; the _matador_ does not move a muscle, the bull turns and stands
+quite motionless. Another charge, another pass. And so he continues,
+making seven or eight of various sorts, to the growing approbation of
+the public. At last it is time to kill. With great caution he withdraws
+the sword; the bull looks warily. He makes two or three passes more and
+walks round till he gets the animal into proper position: the forefeet
+must be set squarely on the ground. '_Ora! Ora!_' cry the people. 'Now!
+Now!' The bull is well placed. The _matador_ draws the sword back a
+little and takes careful aim. The bull rushes, and at the same moment
+the man makes one bound forward and buries the sword to the hilt between
+the brute's shoulders. It falls to its knees and rolls over.
+
+Then is a perfect storm of applause; and it is worth while to see
+fourteen thousand people wild with delight. The band bursts into joyous
+strains, and the mules come galloping in, gaily caparisoned; a rope is
+passed round the dead beast, and they drag it away. The _matador_
+advances to the president's box and bows, while the shouting grows more
+frantic. He walks round, bowing and smiling, and the public in its
+enthusiasm throws down hats and cigars and sticks.
+
+But there are no intervals to a bull-fight, and the _picadors_
+immediately reappear and take their places; the doors are flung open,
+and a second bull rushes forth. The _matador_ still goes round bowing to
+the applause, elaborately unmindful of the angry beast.
+
+Six animals are killed in an afternoon within two hours, and then the
+mighty audience troop out with flushed cheeks, the smell of blood strong
+in their nostrils.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+[Sidenote: On Horseback]
+
+
+I had a desire to see something of the very heart of Andalusia, of that
+part of the country which had preserved its antique character, where
+railway trains were not, and the horse, the mule, the donkey were still
+the only means of transit. After much scrutiny of local maps and
+conversation with horse-dealers and others, I determined from Seville to
+go circuitously to Ecija, and thence return by another route as best I
+could. The district I meant to traverse in olden times was notorious for
+its brigands; even thirty years ago the prosperous tradesman, voyaging
+on his mule from town to town, was liable to be seized by unromantic
+outlaws and detained till his friends forwarded ransom, while ears and
+fingers were playfully sent to prove identity. In Southern Spain
+brigandage necessarily flourished, for not only were the country-folk in
+collusion with the bandits, but the very magistrates united with them to
+share the profits of lawless undertakings. Drastic measures were needful
+to put down the evil, and in a truly Spanish way drastic measures were
+employed. The Civil Guard, whose duty it was to see to the safety of the
+country side, had no confidence in the justice of Madrid, whither
+captured highwaymen were sent for trial; once there, for a few hundred
+dollars, the most murderous ruffian could prove his babe-like innocence,
+forthwith return to the scene of his former exploits and begin again. So
+they hit upon an expedient. The Civil Guards set out for the capital
+with their prisoner handcuffed between them; but, curiously enough, in
+every single case the brigand had scarcely marched a couple of miles
+before he incautiously tried to escape, whereupon he was, of course,
+promptly shot through the back. People noticed two things: first, that
+the clothes of the dead man were often singed, as if he had not escaped
+very far before he was shot down; that only proved his guardians' zeal.
+But the other was stranger: the two Civil Guards, when after a couple of
+hours they returned to the town, as though by a mysterious premonition
+they had known the bandit would make some rash attempt, invariably had
+waiting for them an excellent hot dinner.
+
+The only robber of importance who avoided such violent death was the
+chief of a celebrated band who, when captured, signed a declaration that
+he had not the remotest idea of escaping, and insisted on taking with
+him to Madrid his solicitor and a witness. He reached the capital alive,
+and having settled his little affairs with benevolent judges, turned to
+a different means of livelihood, and eventually, it is said, occupied a
+responsible post in the Government. It is satisfactory to think that his
+felonious talents were not in after-life entirely wasted.
+
+* * *
+
+It was the beginning of March when I started. According to the old
+proverb, the dog was already seeking the shade: _En Marzo busca la
+sombra el perro_; the chilly Spaniard, loosening the folds of his
+_capa_, acknowledged that at mid-day in the sun it was almost warm. The
+winter rains appeared to have ceased; the sky over Seville was
+cloudless, not with the intense azure of midsummer, but with a blue that
+seemed mixed with silver. And in the sun the brown water of the
+Guadalquivir glittered like the scales on a fish's back, or like the
+burnished gold of old Moorish pottery.
+
+I set out in the morning early, with saddle-bags fixed on either side
+and poncho strapped to my pommel. A loaded revolver, though of course I
+never had a chance to use it, made me feel pleasantly adventurous. I
+walked cautiously over the slippery cobbles of the streets, disturbing
+the silence with the clatter of my horse's shoes. Now and then a mule or
+a donkey trotted by, with panniers full of vegetables, of charcoal or of
+bread, between which on the beast's neck sat perched a man in a short
+blouse. I came to the old rampart of the town, now a promenade; and at
+the gate groups of idlers, with cigarettes between their lips, stood
+talking.
+
+An hospitable friend had offered lodging for the night and food; after
+which, my ideas of the probable accommodation being vague, I expected to
+sleep upon straw, for victuals depending on the wayside inns. I arrived
+at the _Campo de la Cruz_, a tiny chapel which marks the same distance
+from the Cathedral as Jesus Christ walked to the Cross; it is the final
+boundary of Seville.
+
+Immediately afterwards I left the high-road, striking across country to
+Carmona. The land was already wild; on either side of the bridle-path
+were great wastes of sand covered only by palmetto. The air was cool and
+fresh, like the air of English country in June when it has rained
+through the night; and Aguador, snorting with pleasure, cantered over
+the uneven ground, nimbly avoiding holes and deep ruts with the
+sure-footedness of his Arab blood. An Andalusian horse cares nothing for
+the ground on which he goes, though it be hard and unyielding as iron;
+and he clambers up and down steep, rocky precipices as happily as he
+trots along a cinder-path.
+
+I passed a shepherd in a ragged cloak and a broad-brimmed hat, holding a
+crook. He stared at me, his flock of brown sheep clustered about him as
+I scampered by, and his dog rushed after, barking.
+
+'_Vaya Usted con Dios!_'
+
+I came to little woods of pine-trees, with long, thin trunks, and the
+foliage spreading umbrella-wise; round them circled innumerable hawks,
+whose nests I saw among the branches. Two ravens crossed my path, their
+wings heavily flapping.
+
+The great charm of the Andalusian country is that you seize romance, as
+it were, in the act. In northern lands it is only by a mental effort
+that you can realise the picturesque value of the life that surrounds
+you; and, for my part, I can perceive it only by putting it mentally in
+black and white, and reading it as though between the covers of a book.
+Once, I remember, in Brittany, in a distant corner of that rock-bound
+coast, I sat at midnight in a fisherman's cottage playing cards by the
+light of two tallow candles. Next door, with only a wall between us, a
+very old sailor lay dying in the great cupboard-bed which had belonged
+to his fathers before him; and he fought for life with the remains of
+that strenuous vigour with which in other years he had battled against
+the storms of the Atlantic. In the stillness of the night, the waves,
+with the murmur of a lullaby, washed gently upon the shingle, and the
+stars shone down from a clear sky. I looked at the yellow light on the
+faces of the players, gathered in that desolate spot from the four
+corners of the earth, and cried out: 'By Jove, this is romance!' I had
+never before caught that impression in the very making, and I was
+delighted with my good fortune.
+
+The answer came quickly from the American: 'Don't talk bosh! It's your
+deal.'
+
+But for all that it was romance, seized fugitively, and life at that
+moment threw itself into a decorative pattern fit to be remembered. It
+is the same effect which you get more constantly in Spain, so that the
+commonest things are transfigured into beauty. For in the cactus and the
+aloe and the broad fields of grain, in the mules with their wide
+panniers and the peasants, in the shepherds' huts and the straggling
+farm-houses, the romantic is there, needing no subtlety to be
+discovered; and the least imaginative may feel a certain thrill when he
+understands that the life he leads is not without its aesthetic meaning.
+
+* * *
+
+I rode for a long way in complete solitude, through many miles of this
+sandy desert. Then the country changed, and olive-groves in endless
+succession followed one another, the trees with curiously decorative
+effect were planted in long, even lines. The earth was a vivid red,
+contrasting with the blue sky and the sombre olives, gnarled and
+fantastically twisted, like evil spirits metamorphosed: in places they
+had sown corn, and the young green enhanced the shrill diversity of
+colour. With its clear, brilliant outlines and its lack of shadow, the
+scene reminded one of a prim pattern, such as in Jane Austen's day young
+gentlewomen worked in worsted. Sometimes I saw women among the trees,
+perched like monkeys on the branches, or standing below with large
+baskets; they were extraordinarily quaint in the trousers which modesty
+bade them wear for the concealment of their limbs when olive-picking.
+The costume was so masculine, their faces so red and weather-beaten,
+that the yellow handkerchief on their heads was really the only means of
+distinguishing their sex.
+
+But the path became more precipitous, hewn from the sandstone, and so
+polished by the numberless shoes of donkeys and of mules that I hardly
+dared walk upon it; and suddenly I saw Carmona in front of me--quite
+close.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+[Sidenote: By the Road--I]
+
+
+The approach to Carmona is a very broad, white street, much too wide for
+the cottages which line it, deserted; and the young trees planted on
+either side are too small to give shade. The sun beat down with a fierce
+glare and the dust rose in clouds as I passed. Presently I came to a
+great Moorish gateway, a dark mass of stone, battlemented, with a lofty
+horseshoe arch. People were gathered about it in many-coloured groups, I
+found it was a holiday in Carmona, and the animation was unwonted; in a
+corner stood the hut of the _Consumo_, and the men advanced to examine
+my saddle-bags. I passed through, into the town, looking right and left
+for a _parador_, an hostelry whereat to leave my horse. I bargained for
+the price of food and saw Aguador comfortably stalled; then made my way
+to the Nekropolis where lived my host. There are many churches in
+Carmona, and into one of these I entered; it had nothing of great
+interest, but to a certain degree it was rich, rich in its gilded
+woodwork and in the brocade that adorned the pillars; and I felt that
+these Spanish churches lent a certain dignity to life: for all the
+careless flippancy of Andalusia they still remained to strike a nobler
+note. I forgot willingly that the land was priest-ridden and
+superstitious, so that a Spaniard could tell me bitterly that there were
+but two professions open to his countrymen, the priesthood and the
+bull-ring. It was pleasant to rest in that cool and fragrant darkness.
+
+My host was an archaeologist, and we ate surrounded by broken
+earthenware, fragmentary mosaics, and grinning skulls. It was curious
+afterwards to wander in the graveyard which, with indefatigable zeal, he
+had excavated, among the tombs of forgotten races, letting oneself down
+to explore the subterranean cells. The paths he had made in the giant
+cemetery were lined with a vast number of square sandstone boxes which
+had contained human ashes; and now, when the lid was lifted, a green
+lizard or a scorpion darted out. From the hill I saw stretched before me
+the great valley of the Guadalquivir: with the squares of olive and of
+ploughed field, and the various greens of the corn, it was like a vast,
+multi-coloured carpet. But later, with the sunset, black clouds arose,
+splendidly piled upon one another; and the twilight air was chill and
+grey. A certain sternness came over the olive-groves, and they might
+well have served as a reproach to the facile Andaluz; for their cold
+passionless green seemed to offer a warning to his folly.
+
+At night my host left me to sleep in the village, and I lay in bed alone
+in the little house among the tombs; it was very silent. The wind sprang
+up and blew about me, whistling through the windows, whistling weirdly;
+and I felt as though the multitudes that had been buried in that old
+cemetery filled the air with their serried numbers, a vast, silent
+congregation waiting motionless for they knew not what. I recalled a
+gruesome fact that my friend had told me: not far from there, in tombs
+that he had disinterred the skeletons lay huddled spasmodically, with
+broken skulls and a great stone by the side; for when a man, he said,
+lay sick unto death, his people took him, and placed him in his grave,
+and with the stone killed him.
+
+* * *
+
+In the morning I set out again. It was five-and-thirty miles to Ecija,
+but a new high road stretched from place to place and I expected easy
+riding. Carmona stands on the top of a precipitous hill, round which
+winds the beginning of the road; below, after many zigzags, I saw its
+continuation, a straight white line reaching as far as I could see. In
+Andalusia, till a few years ago, there were practically no high roads,
+and even now they are few and bad. The chief communication from town to
+town is usually an uneven track, which none attempts to keep up, with
+deep ruts, and palmetto growing on either side, and occasional pools of
+water. A day's rain makes it a quagmire, impassable for anything beside
+the sure-footed mule.
+
+I went on, meeting now and then a string of asses, their panniers filled
+with stones or with wood for Carmona; the drivers sat on the rump of the
+hindmost animal, for that is the only comfortable way to ride a donkey.
+A peasant trotted briskly by on his mule, his wife behind him with her
+arms about his waist. I saw a row of ploughs in a field; to each were
+attached two oxen, and they went along heavily, one behind the other in
+regular line. By the side of every pair a man walked bearing a long
+goad, and one of them sang a _Malaguena_, its monotonous notes rising
+and falling slowly. From time to time I passed a white farm, a little
+way from the road, invitingly cool in the heat; the sun began to beat
+down fiercely. The inevitable storks were perched on a chimney, by their
+big nest; and when they flew in front of me, with their broad white
+wings and their red legs against the blue sky, they gave a quaint
+impression of a Japanese screen.
+
+A farmhouse such as this seems to me always a type of the Spanish
+impenetrability. I have been over many of them, and know the manner of
+their rooms and the furniture, the round of duties there performed and
+how the day is portioned out; but the real life of the inhabitants
+escapes me. My knowledge is merely external. I am conscious that it is
+the same of the Andalusians generally, and am dismayed because I know
+practically nothing more after a good many years than I learnt in the
+first months of my acquaintance with them. Below the superficial
+similarity with the rest of Europe which of late they have acquired,
+there is a difference which makes it impossible to get at the bottom of
+their hearts. They have no openness as have the French and the Italians,
+with whom a good deal of intimacy is possible even to an Englishman, but
+on the contrary an Eastern reserve which continually baffles me. I
+cannot realise their thoughts nor their outlook. I feel always below the
+grace of their behaviour the instinctive, primeval hatred of the
+stranger.
+
+Gradually the cultivation ceased, and I saw no further sign of human
+beings. I returned to the desert of the previous day, but the land was
+more dreary. The little groves of pine-trees had disappeared, there were
+no olives, no cornfields, not even the aloe nor the wilder cactus; but
+on either side as far as the horizon, desert wastes, littered with
+stones and with rough boulders, grown over only by palmetto. For many
+miles I went, dismounting now and then to stretch my legs and sauntering
+a while with the reins over my shoulder. Towards mid-day I rested by the
+wayside and let Aguador eat what grass he could.
+
+Presently, continuing my journey, I caught sight of a little hovel where
+the fir-branch over the door told me wine was to be obtained. I fastened
+my horse to a ring in the wall, and, going in, found an aged crone who
+gave me a glass of that thin white wine, produce of the last year's
+vintage, which is called _Vino de la Hoja_, wine of the leaf; she looked
+at me incuriously as though she saw so many people and they were so much
+alike that none repaid particular scrutiny. I tried to talk with her,
+for it seemed a curious life that she must lead, alone in that hut many
+miles from the nearest hamlet, with never a house in sight; but she was
+taciturn and eyed me now with something like suspicion. I asked for
+food, but with a sullen frown she answered that she had none to spare. I
+inquired the distance to Luisiana, a village on the way to Ecija where
+I had proposed to lunch, and shrugging her shoulders, she replied: 'How
+should I know!' I was about to go when I heard a great clattering, and a
+horseman galloped up. He dismounted and walked in, a fine example of the
+Andalusian countryman, handsome and tall, well-shaved, with
+close-cropped hair. He wore elaborately decorated gaiters, the usual
+short, close-fitting jacket, and a broad-brimmed hat; in his belt were a
+knife and a revolver, and slung across his back a long gun. He would
+have made an admirable brigand of comic-opera; but was in point of fact
+a farmer riding, as he told me, to see his _novia_, or lady-love, at a
+neighbouring farm.
+
+I found him more communicative and in the politest fashion we discussed
+the weather and the crops. He had been to Seville.
+
+'_Che maravilla!_' he cried, waving his fine, strong hands. 'What a
+marvel! But I cannot bear the town-folk. What thieves and liars!'
+
+'Town-folk should stick to the towns,' muttered the old woman, looking
+at me somewhat pointedly.
+
+The remark drew the farmer's attention more closely to me.
+
+'And what are you doing here?' he asked.
+
+'Riding to Ecija.'
+
+'Ah, you're a commercial traveller,' he cried, with fine scorn. 'You
+foreigners bleed the country of all its money. You and the government!'
+
+'Rogues and vagabonds!' muttered the old woman.
+
+Notwithstanding, the farmer with much condescension accepted one of my
+cigars, and made me drink with him a glass of _aguardiente_.
+
+We went off together. The mare he rode was really magnificent, rather
+large, holding her head beautifully, with a tail that almost swept the
+ground. She carried as if it were nothing the heavy Spanish saddle,
+covered with a white sheep-skin, its high triangular pommel of polished
+wood. Our ways, however, quickly diverged. I inquired again how far it
+was to the nearest village.
+
+'Eh!' said the farmer, with a vague gesture. 'Two leagues. Three
+leagues. _Quien sabe?_ Who knows? _Adios!_'
+
+He put the spurs to his mare and galloped down a bridle-track. I, whom
+no fair maiden awaited, trotted on soberly.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+[Sidenote: By the Road--II]
+
+
+The endless desert grew rocky and less sandy, the colours duller. Even
+the palmetto found scanty sustenance, and huge boulders, strewn as
+though some vast torrent had passed through the plain, alone broke the
+desolate flatness. The dusty road pursued its way, invariably straight,
+neither turning to one side nor to the other, but continually in front
+of me, a long white line.
+
+Finally in the distance I saw a group of white buildings and a cluster
+of trees. I thought it was Luisiana, but Luisiana, they had said, was a
+populous hamlet, and here were only two or three houses and not a soul.
+I rode up and found among the trees a tall white church, and a pool of
+murky water, further back a low, new edifice, which was evidently a
+monastery, and a _posada_. Presently a Franciscan monk in his brown cowl
+came out of the church, and he told me that Luisiana was a full league
+off, but that food could be obtained at the neighbouring inn.
+
+The _posada_ was merely a long barn, with an open roof of wood, on one
+side of which were half a dozen mangers and in a corner two mules.
+Against another wall were rough benches for travellers to sleep on. I
+dismounted and walked to the huge fireplace at one end, where I saw
+three very old women seated like witches round a _brasero_, the great
+brass dish of burning cinders. With true Spanish stolidity they did not
+rise as I approached, but waited for me to speak, looking at me
+indifferently. I asked whether I could have anything to eat.
+
+'Fried eggs.'
+
+'Anything else?'
+
+The hostess, a tall creature, haggard and grim, shrugged her shoulders.
+Her jaws were toothless, and when she spoke it was difficult to
+understand. I tied Aguador to a manger and took off his saddle. The old
+women stirred themselves at last, and one brought a portion of chopped
+straw and a little barley. Another with the bellows blew on the cinders,
+and the third, taking eggs from a basket, fried them on the _brasero_.
+Besides, they gave me coarse brown bread and red wine, which was coarser
+still; for dessert the hostess went to the door and from a neighbouring
+tree plucked oranges.
+
+When I had finished--it was not a very substantial meal--I drew my chair
+to the _brasero_ and handed round my cigarette-case. The old women
+helped themselves, and a smile of thanks made the face of my gaunt
+hostess somewhat less repellent. We smoked a while in silence.
+
+'Are you all alone here?' I asked, at length.
+
+The hostess made a movement of her head towards the country. 'My son is
+out shooting,' she said, 'and two others are in Cuba, fighting the
+rebels.'
+
+'God protect them!' muttered another.
+
+'All our sons go to Cuba now,' said the first. 'Oh, I don't blame the
+Cubans, but the government.'
+
+An angry light filled her eyes, and she lifted her clenched hand,
+cursing the rulers at Madrid who took her children. 'They're robbers and
+fools. Why can't they let Cuba go? It isn't worth the money we pay in
+taxes.'
+
+She spoke so vehemently, mumbling the words between her toothless gums,
+that I could scarcely make them out.
+
+'In Madrid they don't care if the country goes to rack and ruin so long
+as they fill their purses. Listen.' She put one hand on my arm. 'My boy
+came back with fever and dysentery. He was ill for months--at death's
+door--and I nursed him day and night. And almost before he could walk
+they sent him out again to that accursed country.'
+
+The tears rolled heavily down her wrinkled cheeks.
+
+* * *
+
+Luisiana is a curious place. It was a colony formed by Charles III. of
+Spain with Germans whom he brought to people the desolate land; and I
+fancied the Teuton ancestry was apparent in the smaller civility of the
+inhabitants. They looked sullenly as I passed, and none gave the
+friendly Andalusian greeting. I saw a woman hanging clothes on the line
+outside her house; she had blue eyes and flaxen hair, a healthy red
+face, and a solidity of build which proved the purity of her northern
+blood. The houses, too, had a certain exotic quaintness; notwithstanding
+the universal whitewash of the South, there was about them still a
+northern character. They were prim and regularly built, with little
+plots of garden; the fences and the shutters were bright green. I almost
+expected to see German words on the post-office and on the tobacco-shop,
+and the grandiloquent Spanish seemed out of place; I thought the Spanish
+clothes of the men sat upon them uneasily.
+
+The day was drawing to a close and I pushed on to reach Ecija before
+night, but Aguador was tired and I was obliged mostly to walk. Now the
+highway turned and twisted among little hills and it was a strange
+relief to leave the dead level of the plains: on each side the land was
+barren and desolate, and in the distance were dark mountains. The sky
+had clouded over, and the evening was grey and very cold; the solitude
+was awful. At last I overtook a pedlar plodding along by his donkey, the
+panniers filled to overflowing with china and glass, which he was taking
+to sell in Ecija. He wished to talk, but he was going too slowly, and I
+left him. I had hills to climb now, and at the top of each expected to
+see the town, but every time was disappointed. The traces of man
+surrounded me at last; again I rode among olive-groves and cornfields;
+the highway now was bordered with straggling aloes and with hedges of
+cactus.
+
+At last! I reached the brink of another hill, and then, absolutely at my
+feet, so that I could have thrown a stone on its roofs, lay Ecija with
+its numberless steeples.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+[Sidenote: Ecija]
+
+
+The central square, where are the government offices, the taverns, and a
+little inn, is a charming place, quiet and lackadaisical, its pale
+browns and greys very restful in the twilight, and harmonious. The
+houses with their queer windows and their balconies of wrought iron are
+built upon arcades which give a pleasant feeling of intimacy: in summer,
+cool and dark, they must be the promenade of all the gossips and the
+loungers. One can imagine the uneventful life, the monotonous round of
+existence; and yet the Andalusian blood runs in the people's veins. To
+my writer's fantasy Ecija seemed a fit background for some tragic story
+of passion or of crime.
+
+I dined, unromantically enough, with a pair of commercial travellers, a
+post-office clerk, and two stout, elderly men who appeared to be retired
+officers. Spanish victuals are terrible and strange; food is even more
+an affair of birth than religion, since a man may change his faith, but
+hardly his manner of eating: the stomach used to roast meat and
+Yorkshire pudding rebels against Eastern cookery, and a Christian may
+sooner become a Buddhist than a beef-eater a guzzler of _olla podrida_.
+The Spaniards without weariness eat the same dinner day after day, year
+in, year out: it is always the same white, thin, oily soup; a dish of
+haricot beans and maize swimming in a revolting sauce; a nameless
+_entree_ fried in oil--Andalusians have a passion for other animals'
+insides; a thin steak, tough as leather and grilled to utter dryness;
+raisins and oranges. You rise from table feeling that you have been
+soaked in rancid oil.
+
+My table-companions were disposed to be sociable. The travellers desired
+to know whether I was there to sell anything, and one drew from his
+pocket, for my inspection, a case of watch-chains. The officers surmised
+that I had come from Gibraltar to spy the land, and to terrify me, spoke
+of the invincible strength of the Spanish forces.
+
+'Are you aware,' said the elder, whose adiposity prevented his outward
+appearance from corresponding with his warlike heart, 'Are you aware
+that in the course of history our army has never once been defeated, and
+our fleet but twice?'
+
+He mentioned the catastrophes, but I had never heard of them; and
+Trafalgar was certainly not included. I hazarded a discreet inquiry,
+whereupon, with much emphasis, both explained how on that occasion the
+Spanish had soundly thrashed old Nelson, although he had discomfited the
+French.
+
+'It is odd,' I observed, 'that British historians should be so
+inaccurate.'
+
+'It is discreditable,' retorted my acquaintance, with a certain
+severity.
+
+'How long did the English take to conquer the Soudan?' remarked the
+other, somewhat aggressively picking his teeth. 'Twenty years? We
+conquered Morocco in three months.'
+
+'And the Moors are devils,' said the commercial traveller. 'I know,
+because I once went to Tangiers for my firm.'
+
+After dinner I wandered about the streets, past the great old houses of
+the nobles in the _Calle de los Caballeros_, empty now and dilapidated,
+for every gentleman that can put a penny in his pocket goes to Madrid to
+spend it; down to the river which flowed swiftly between high banks.
+Below the bridge two Moorish mills, irregular masses of blackness, stood
+finely against the night. Near at hand they were still working at a
+forge, and I watched the flying sparks as the smith hammered a
+horseshoe; the workers were like silhouettes in front of the leaping
+flames.
+
+At many windows, to my envy, couples were philandering; the night was
+cold and Corydon stood huddled in his cape. But the murmuring as I
+passed was like the flow of a rapid brook, and I imagined, I am sure,
+far more passionate and romantic speeches than ever the lovers made. I
+might have uttered them to the moon, but I should have felt ridiculous,
+and it was more practical to jot them down afterwards in a note-book. In
+some of the surrounding villages they have so far preserved the Moorish
+style as to have no windows within reach of the ground, and lovers then
+must take advantage of the aperture at the bottom of the door made for
+the domestic cat's particular convenience. Stretched full length on the
+ground, on opposite sides of the impenetrable barrier, they can still
+whisper amorous commonplaces to one another. But imagine the confusion
+of a polite Spaniard, on a dark night, stumbling over a recumbent swain:
+
+'My dear sir, I beg your pardon. I had no idea....'
+
+In old days the disturbance would have been sufficient cause for a duel,
+but now manners are more peaceful: the gallant, turning a little,
+removes his hat and politely answers:
+
+'It is of no consequence. _Vaya Usted con Dios!_'
+
+'Good-night!'
+
+The intruder passes and the beau endeavours passionately to catch sight
+of his mistress' black eyes.
+
+* * *
+
+Next day was Sunday, and I walked by the river till I found a plot of
+grass sheltered from the wind by a bristly hedge of cactus. I lay down
+in the sun, lazily watching two oxen that ploughed a neighbouring field.
+
+I felt it my duty in the morning to buy a chap-book relating the
+adventures of the famous brigands who were called the Seven Children of
+Ecija; and this, somewhat sleepily, I began to read. It required a
+byronic stomach, for the very first chapter led me to a monastery where
+mass proceeded in memory of some victim of undiscovered crime. Seven
+handsome men appeared, most splendidly arrayed, but armed to the teeth;
+each one was every inch a brigand, pitiless yet great of heart,
+saturnine yet gentlemanly; and their peculiarity was that though six
+were killed one day seven would invariably be seen the next. The most
+gorgeously apparelled of them all, entering the sacristy, flung a purse
+of gold to the Superior, while a scalding tear coursed down his sunburnt
+cheek; and this he dried with a noble gesture and a richly embroidered
+handkerchief! In a whirlwind of romantic properties I read of a wicked
+miser who refused to support his brother's widow, of the widow herself,
+(brought at birth to a gardener in the dead of night by a mysterious
+mulatto,) and of this lady's lovely offspring. My own feelings can never
+be harrowed on behalf of a widow with a marriageable daughter, but I am
+aware that habitual readers of romance, like ostriches, will swallow
+anything. I was hurried to a subterranean chamber where the Seven
+Children, in still more elaborate garments, performed various dark
+deeds, smoked expensive Havanas, and seated on silken cushions, partook
+(like Freemasons) of a succulent cold collation.
+
+The sun shone down with comfortable warmth, and I stretched my legs. My
+pipe was out and I refilled it. A meditative snail crawled up and
+observed me with flattering interest.
+
+I grew somewhat confused. A stolen will was of course inevitable, and so
+were prison dungeons; but the characters had an irritating trick of
+revealing at critical moments that they were long-lost relatives. It
+must have been a tedious age when poor relations were never safely
+buried. However, youth and beauty were at last triumphant and villainy
+confounded, virtue was crowned with orange blossom and vice died a
+miserable death. Rejoicing in duty performed I went to sleep.
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+[Sidenote: Wind and Storm]
+
+
+But next morning the sky was dark with clouds; people looked up
+dubiously when I asked the way and distance to Marchena, prophesying
+rain. Fetching my horse, the owner of the stable robbed me with peculiar
+callousness, for he had bound my hands the day before, when I went to
+see how Aguador was treated, by giving me with most courteous ceremony a
+glass of _aguardiente_; and his urbanity was then so captivating that
+now I lacked assurance to protest. I paid the scandalous overcharge with
+a good grace, finding some solace in the reflection that he was at least
+a picturesque blackguard, tall and spare, grey-headed, with fine
+features sharpened by age to the strongest lines; for I am always
+grateful to the dishonest when they add a certain aesthetic charm to
+their crooked ways. There is a proverb which says that in Ecija every
+man is a thief and every woman--no better than she should be: I was not
+disinclined to believe it.
+
+I set out, guided by a sign-post, and the good road seemed to promise an
+easy day. They had told me that the distance was only six leagues, and I
+expected to arrive before luncheon. Aguador, fresh after his day's rest,
+broke into a canter when I put him on the green plot, which the old
+Spanish law orders to be left for cattle by the side of the highway. But
+after three miles, without warning, the road suddenly stopped. I found
+myself in an olive-grove, with only a narrow path in front of me. It
+looked doubtful, but there was no one in sight and I wandered on,
+trusting to luck.
+
+Presently, in a clearing, I caught sight of three men on donkeys,
+walking slowly one after the other, and I galloped after to ask my way.
+The beasts were laden with undressed skins which they were taking to
+Fuentes, and each man squatted cross-legged on the top of his load. The
+hindermost turned right round when I asked my question and sat
+unconcernedly with his back to the donkey's head. He looked about him
+vaguely as though expecting the information I sought to be written on
+the trunk of an olive-tree, and scratched his head.
+
+'Well,' he said, 'I should think it was a matter of seven leagues, but
+it will rain before you get there.'
+
+'This is the right way, isn't it?'
+
+'It may be. If it doesn't lead to Marchena it must lead somewhere else.'
+
+There was a philosophic ring about the answer which made up for the
+uncertainty. The skinner was a fat, good-humoured creature, like all
+Spaniards intensely curious; and to prepare the way for inquiries,
+offered a cigarette.
+
+'But why do you come to Ecija by so roundabout a way as Carmona, and why
+should you return to Seville by such a route as Marchena?'
+
+His opinion was evidently that the shortest way between two places was
+also the best. He received my explanation with incredulity and asked,
+more insistently, why I went to Ecija on horseback when I might go by
+train to Madrid.
+
+'For pleasure,' said I.
+
+'My good sir, you must have come on some errand.'
+
+'Oh yes,' I answered, hoping to satisfy him, 'on the search for
+emotion.'
+
+At this he bellowed with laughter and turned round to tell his fellows.
+
+'_Usted es muy guason_,' he said at length, which may be translated:
+'You're a mighty funny fellow.'
+
+I expressed my pleasure at having provided the skinners with amusement
+and bidding them farewell, trotted on.
+
+I went for a long time among the interminable olives, grey and sad
+beneath the sullen clouds, and at last the rain began to fall. I saw a
+farm not very far away and cantered up to ask for shelter. An old woman
+and a labourer came to the door and looked at me very doubtfully; they
+said it was not a _posada_, but my soft words turned their hearts and
+they allowed me to come in. The rain poured down in heavy, oblique
+lines.
+
+The labourer took Aguador to the stable and I went into the parlour, a
+long, low, airy chamber like the refectory of a monastery, with windows
+reaching to the ground. Two girls were sitting round the _brasero_,
+sewing; they offered me a chair by their side, and as the rain fell
+steadily we began to talk. The old woman discreetly remained away. They
+asked about my journey, and as is the Spanish mode, about my country,
+myself, and my belongings. It was a regular volley of questions I had to
+answer, but they sounded pleasanter in the mouth of a pretty girl than
+in that of an obese old skinner; and the rippling laughter which greeted
+my replies made me feel quite witty. When they smiled they showed the
+whitest teeth. Then came my turn for questioning. The girl on my right,
+prettier than her sister, was very Spanish, with black, expressive eyes,
+an olive skin, and a bunch of violets in her abundant hair. I asked
+whether she had a _novio_, or lover; and the question set her laughing
+immoderately. What was her name? 'Soledad--Solitude.'
+
+I looked somewhat anxiously at the weather, I feared the shower would
+cease, and in a minute, alas! the rain passed away; and I was forced to
+notice it, for the sun-rays came dancing through the window,
+importunately, making patterns of light upon the floor. I had no further
+excuse to stay, and said good-bye; but I begged for the bunch of violets
+in Soledad's dark hair and she gave it with a pretty smile. I plunged
+again into the endless olive-groves.
+
+It was a little strange, the momentary irruption into other people's
+lives, the friendly gossip with persons of a different tongue and
+country, whom I had never seen before, whom I should never see again;
+and were I not strictly truthful I might here lighten my narrative by
+the invention of a charming and romantic adventure. But if chance brings
+us often for a moment into other existences, it takes us out with equal
+suddenness so that we scarcely know whether they were real or mere
+imaginings of an idle hour: the Fates have a passion for the unfinished
+sketch and seldom trouble to unravel the threads which they have so
+laboriously entangled. The little scene brought another to my mind. When
+I was 'on accident duty' at St. Thomas's Hospital a man brought his son
+with a broken leg; it was hard luck on the little chap, for he was
+seated peacefully on the ground when another boy, climbing a wall, fell
+on him and did the damage. When I returned him, duly bandaged, to his
+father's arms, the child bent forward and put out his lips for a kiss,
+saying good-night with babyish pronunciation. The father and the
+attendant nurse laughed, and I, being young, was confused and blushed
+profusely. They went away and somehow or other I never saw them again. I
+wonder if the pretty child, (he must be eight or ten now,) remembers
+kissing a very weary medical student, who had not slept much for several
+days, and was dead tired. Probably he has quite forgotten that he ever
+broke his leg. And I suppose no recollection remains with the pretty
+girl in the farm of a foreigner riding mysteriously through the
+olive-groves, to whom she gave shelter and a bunch of violets.
+
+* * *
+
+I came at last to the end of the trees and found then that a mighty wind
+had risen, which blew straight in my teeth. It was hard work to ride
+against it, but I saw a white town in the distance, on a hill; and made
+for it, rejoicing in the prospect. Presently I met some men shooting,
+and to make sure, asked whether the houses I saw really were Marchena.
+
+'Oh no,' said one. 'You've come quite out of the way. That is Fuentes.
+Marchena is over there, beyond the hill.'
+
+My heart sank, for I was growing very hungry, and I asked whether I
+could not get shelter at Fuentes. They shrugged their shoulders and
+advised me to go to Marchena, which had a small inn. I went on for
+several hours, battling against the wind, bent down in order to expose
+myself as little as possible, over a huge expanse of pasture land, a
+desert of green. I reached the crest of the hill, but there was no sign
+of Marchena, unless that was a tower which I saw very far away, its
+summit just rising above the horizon.
+
+I was ravenous. My saddle-bags contained spaces for a bottle and for
+food; and I cursed my folly in stuffing them with such useless
+refinements of civilisation as hair-brushes and soap. It is possible
+that one could allay the pangs of hunger with soap; but under no
+imaginable circumstances with hair-brushes.
+
+It was a tower in the distance, but it seemed to grow neither nearer nor
+larger; the wind blew without pity, and miserably Aguador tramped on. I
+no longer felt very hungry, but dreadfully bored. In that waste of
+greenery the only living things beside myself were a troop of swallows
+that had accompanied me for miles. They flew close to the ground, in
+front of me, circling round; and the wind was so high that they could
+scarcely advance against it.
+
+I remembered the skinner's question, why I rode through the country when
+I could go by train. I thought of the _Cheshire Cheese_ in Fleet Street,
+where persons more fortunate than I had that day eaten hearty luncheons.
+I imagined to myself a well-grilled steak with boiled potatoes, and a
+pint of old ale, Stilton! The smoke rose to my nostrils.
+
+But at last, the Saints be praised! I found a real bridle-path, signs of
+civilisation, ploughed fields; and I came in sight of Marchena perched
+on a hill-top, surrounded by its walls. When I arrived the sun was
+setting finely behind the town.
+
+
+
+
+XXXI
+
+[Sidenote: Two Villages]
+
+
+Marchena was all white, and on the cold windy evening I spent there,
+deserted of inhabitants. Quite rarely a man sidled past wrapped to the
+eyes in his cloak, or a woman with a black shawl over her head. I saw in
+the town nothing characteristic but the wicker-work frame in front of
+each window, so that people within could not possibly be seen; it was
+evidently a Moorish survival. At night men came into the eating-room of
+the inn, ate their dinner silently, and muffling themselves, quickly
+went out; the cold seemed to have killed all life in them. I slept in a
+little windowless cellar, on a straw bed which was somewhat verminous.
+
+But next morning, as I looked back, the view of Marchena was charming.
+It stood on the crest of a green hill, surrounded by old battlements,
+and the sun shone down upon it. The wind had fallen, and in the early
+hour the air was pleasant and balmy. There was no road whatever, not
+even a bridle-track this time, and I made straight for Seville. I
+proposed to rest my horse and lunch at Mairena. On one side was a great
+plain of young corn stretching to the horizon, and on the other, with
+the same mantle of green, little hills, round which I slowly wound. The
+sun gave all manner of varied tints to the verdure--sometimes it was
+all emerald and gold, and at others it was like dark green velvet.
+
+But the clouds in the direction of Seville were very black, and coming
+nearer I saw that it rained upon the hills. The water fell on the earth
+like a transparent sheet of grey. Soon I felt an occasional drop, and I
+put on my _poncho_.
+
+The rain began in earnest, no northern drizzle, but a streaming downpour
+that soaked me to the skin. The path became marsh-like, and Aguador
+splashed along at a walk; it was impossible to go faster. The rain
+pelted down, blinding me. Then, oddly enough, for the occasion hardly
+warranted such high-flown thoughts, I felt suddenly the utter
+helplessness of man: I had never before realised with such completeness
+his insignificance beside the might of Nature; alone, with not a soul in
+sight, I felt strangely powerless. The plain flaunted itself insolently
+in face of my distress, and the hills raised their heads with a scornful
+pride; they met the rain as equals, but me it crushed; I felt as though
+it would beat me down into the mire. I fell into a passion with the
+elements, and was seized with a desire to strike out. But the white
+sheet of water was senseless and impalpable, and I relieved myself by
+raging inwardly at the fools who complain of civilisation and of
+railway-trains; they have never walked for hours foot-deep in mud,
+terrified lest their horse should slip, with the rain falling as though
+it would never cease.
+
+The path led me to a river; there was a ford, but the water was very
+high, and rushed and foamed like a torrent. Ignorant of the depth and
+mistrustful, I trotted up-stream a little, seeking shallower parts; but
+none could be seen, and it was no use to look for a bridge. I was bound
+to cross, and I had to risk it; my only consolation was that even if
+Aguador could not stand, I was already so wet that I could hardly get
+wetter. The good horse required some persuasion before he would enter;
+the water rushed and bubbled and rapidly became deeper; he stopped and
+tried to turn back, but I urged him on. My feet went under water, and
+soon it was up to my knees; then, absurdly, it struck me as rather
+funny, and I began to laugh; I could not help thinking how foolish I
+should look and feel on arriving at the other side, if I had to swim for
+it. But immediately it grew shallower; all my adventures tailed off thus
+unheroically just when they began to grow exciting, and in a minute I
+was on comparatively dry land.
+
+I went on, still with no view of Mairena; but I was coming nearer. I met
+a group of women walking with their petticoats over their heads. I
+passed a labourer sheltered behind a hedge, while his oxen stood in a
+field, looking miserably at the rain. Still it fell, still it fell!
+
+And when I reached Mairena it was the most cheerless place I had come
+across on my journey, merely a poverty-stricken hamlet that did not even
+boast a bad inn. I was directed from place to place before I could find
+a stable; I was soaked to the skin, and there seemed no shelter. At last
+I discovered a wretched wine-shop; but the woman who kept it said there
+was no fire and no food. Then I grew very cross. I explained with heat
+that I had money; it is true I was bedraggled and disreputable, but when
+I showed some coins, to prove that I could pay for what I bought, she
+asked unwillingly what I required. I ordered a _brasero_, and dried my
+clothes as best I could by the burning cinders. I ate a scanty meal of
+eggs, and comforted myself with the thin wine of the leaf, sufficiently
+alcoholic to be exhilarating, and finally, with _aguardiente_ regained
+my equilibrium.
+
+But the elements were against me. The rain had ceased while I lunched,
+but no sooner had I left Mairena than it began again, and Seville was
+sixteen miles away. It poured steadily. I tramped up the hills, covered
+with nut-trees; I wound down into valleys; the way seemed interminable.
+I tramped on. At last from the brow of a hill I saw in the distance the
+Giralda and the clustering houses of Seville, but all grey in the wet;
+above it heavy clouds were lowering. On and on!
+
+The day was declining, and Seville now was almost hidden in the mist,
+but I reached a road. I came to the first tavern of the environs; after
+a while to the first houses, then the road gave way to slippery cobbles,
+and I was in Seville. The Saints be praised!
+
+
+
+
+XXXII
+
+[Sidenote: Granada]
+
+
+To go from Seville to Granada is like coming out of the sunshine into
+deep shadow. I arrived, my mind full of Moorish pictures, expecting to
+find a vivid, tumultuous life; and I was ready with a prodigal hand to
+dash on the colours of my admiration. But Granada is a sad town, grey
+and empty; its people meander, melancholy, through the streets,
+unoccupied. It is a tradeless place living on the monuments which
+attract strangers, and like many a city famous for stirring history,
+seems utterly exhausted. Granada gave me an impression that it wished
+merely to be left alone to drag out its remaining days in peace, away
+from the advance of civilisation and the fervid hurrying of progress: it
+seemed like a great adventuress retired from the world after a life of
+vicissitude, anxious only to be forgotten, and after so much storm and
+stress to be nothing more than pious. There must be many descendants of
+the Moors, but the present population is wan and lifeless. They are
+taciturn, sombre folk, with nothing in them of the chattering and
+vivacious creatures of Arab history. Indeed, as I wandered through the
+streets, it was not the Moors that engaged my mind, but rather Ferdinand
+of Arragon and Isabella of Castille. Their grim strength over-powered
+the more graceful shadows of Moordom; and it was only by an effort that
+I recalled Gazul and Musa, most gallant and amorous of Paynim knights,
+tilting in the square, displaying incredible valour in the slaughter of
+savage bulls. I thought of the Catholic Kings, in full armour, riding
+with clank of steel through the captured streets. And the snowy summits
+of the Sierra Nevada, dazzling sometimes under the sun and the blue sky,
+but more often veiled with mist and capped by heavy clouds, grim and
+terrifying, lent a sort of tragic interest to the scene; so that I felt
+those grey masses, with their cloak of white, (they seemed near enough
+to overwhelm one,) made it impossible for the town built at their very
+feet, to give itself over altogether to flippancy.
+
+And for a while I found little of interest in Granada but the Alhambra.
+The gipsy quarter, with neither beauty, colour, nor even a touch of
+barbarism, is a squalid, brutal place, consisting of little dens built
+in the rock of the mountain which stands opposite the Alhambra. Worse
+than hovels, they are the lairs of wild beasts, foetid and oppressive,
+inhabited by debased creatures, with the low forehead, the copper skin,
+and the shifty cruel look of the Spanish gipsy. They surround the
+visitor in their rags and tatters, clamouring for alms, and for
+exorbitant sums proposing to dance. Even in the slums of great cities I
+have not seen a life more bestial. I tried to imagine what sort of
+existence these people led. In the old days the rock-dwellings among the
+cactus served the gipsies for winter quarters only, and when the spring
+came they set off, scouring the country for something to earn or steal;
+but that is long ago. For two generations they have remained in these
+hovels--year in, year out--employed in shoeing horses, shearing, and the
+like menial occupations which the Spaniard thinks beneath his dignity.
+The women tell fortunes, or dance for the foreigner, or worse. It is a
+mere struggle for daily bread. I wondered whether in the spring-time the
+young men loved the maidens, or if they only coupled like the beasts. I
+saw one pair who seemed quite newly wed; for their scanty furniture was
+new and they were young. The man, short and squat, sat scowling,
+cross-legged on a chair, a cigarette between his lips. The woman was
+taller and not ill-made, a slattern; her hair fell dishevelled on her
+back and over her forehead; her dress was open, displaying the bosom;
+her apron was filthy. But when she smiled, asking for money, her teeth
+were white and regular, and her eyes flashed darkly. She was attractive
+in a heavy sensual fashion, attractive and at the same time horribly
+repellant: she was the sort of woman who might fetter a man to herself
+by some degrading, insuperable passion, the true Carmen of the famous
+story whom a man might at once love and hate; so that though she dragged
+him to hell in shame and in despair, he would never find the strength to
+free himself. But where among that bastard race was the splendid desire
+for freedom of their fathers, the love of the fresh air of heaven and
+the untrammeled life of the fields?
+
+At first glance also the cathedral seemed devoid of charm. I suppose
+travellers seek emotions in the things they see, and often the more
+beautiful objects do not give the most vivid sensations. Painters
+complain that men of letters have written chiefly of second-rate
+pictures, but the literary sentiment is different from the artistic; and
+a masterpiece of Perugino may excite it less than a mediocre work of
+Guido Reni.
+
+The cathedral of Granada is said by the excellent Fergusson to be the
+most noteworthy example in Europe of early Renaissance architecture; its
+proportions are evidently admirable, and it is designed and carried out
+according to all the canons of the art. 'Looking at its plan only,' he
+says, 'this is certainly one of the finest churches in Europe. It would
+be difficult to point out any other, in which the central aisle leads up
+to the dome, so well proportioned to its dimensions, and to the dignity
+of the high altar which stands under it.' But though I vaguely
+recognised these perfections, though the spacing appeared fine and
+simple, and the columns had a certain majesty, I was left more than a
+little cold. The whitewash with which the interior is coated gives an
+unsympathetic impression, and the abundant light destroys that mystery
+which the poorest, gaudiest Spanish church almost invariably possesses.
+In the _Capilla de los Reyes_ are the elaborate monuments of the
+Catholic Kings, of their daughter Joan the Mad, and of Philip her
+husband; below, in the crypt, are four simple coffins, in which after so
+much grandeur, so much joy and sorrow, they rest. Indeed, for the two
+poor women who loved without requite, it was a life of pain almost
+unrelieved: it is a pitiful story, for all its magnificence, of Joan
+with her fiery passion for the handsome, faithless, worthless husband,
+and her mad jealousy; and of Isabella, with patient strength bearing
+every cross, always devoted to the man who tired of her quickly, and
+repaid her deep affection with naught but coldness and distrust.
+
+Queen Isabella's sword and sceptre are shown in the sacristry, and in
+contrast with the implement of war a beautiful cope, worked with her
+royal hands. And her crown also may be seen, one of the few I have come
+across which might really become the wearer, of silver, a masterpiece of
+delicate craftsmanship.
+
+But presently, returning to the cathedral and sitting in front of the
+high altar, I became at last conscious of its airy, restful grace. The
+chancel is very lofty. The base is a huge arcade which gives an effect
+of great lightness; and above are two rows of pictures, and still higher
+two rows of painted windows. The coloured glass throws the softest
+lights upon the altar and on the marble floor, rendering even quieter
+the low tints of the pictures. These are a series of illustrations of
+the life of the Blessed Virgin, painted by Alonzo Cano, a native of
+Valladolid, who killed his wife and came to Granada, whereupon those in
+power made him a prebendary. In the obscurity I could not see the
+paintings, but divined soft and pleasant things after the style of
+Murillo, and doubtless that was better than actually to see them. The
+pulpits are gorgeously carved in wood, and from the walls fly great
+angels with fine turbulence of golden drapery. And in the contrast of
+the soft white stone with the gold, which not even the most critical
+taste could complain was too richly spread, there is a delicate,
+fascinating lightness: the chancel has almost an Italian gaiety, which
+comes upon one oddly in the gloomy town. Here the decoration, the gilded
+virgins, the elaborate carving, do not oppress as elsewhere; the effect
+is too debonair and too refreshing. It is one colour more, one more
+distinction, in the complexity of the religious sentiment.
+
+* * *
+
+But if what I have said of Granada seems cold, it is because I did not
+easily catch the spirit of the place. For when you merely observe and
+admire some view, and if industrious make a note of your impression, and
+then go home to luncheon, you are but a vulgar tripper, scum of the
+earth, deserving the ridicule with which the natives treat you. The
+romantic spirit is your only justification; when by the comeliness of
+your life or the beauty of your emotion you have attained that, (Shelley
+when he visited Paestum had it, but Theophile Gautier, flaunting his red
+waistcoat _tras los montes_, was perhaps no better than a Cook's
+tourist,) then you are no longer unworthy of the loveliness which it is
+your privilege to see. When the old red brick and the green trees say to
+you hidden things, and the _vega_ and the mountains are stretched before
+you with a new significance, when at last the white houses with their
+brown tiles, and the labouring donkey, and the peasant at his plough,
+appeal to you so as to make, as it were, an exquisite pattern on your
+soul, then you may begin to find excuses for yourself. But you may see
+places long and often before they are thus magically revealed to you,
+and for myself I caught the real emotion of Granada but once, when from
+the Generalife I looked over the valley, the Generalife in which are
+mingled perhaps more admirably than anywhere else in Andalusia all the
+charm of Arabic architecture, of running water, and of cypress trees, of
+purple flags and dark red roses. It is a spot, indeed, fit for the
+plaintive creatures of poets to sing their loves, for Paolo and
+Francesca, for Juliet and Romeo; and I am glad that there I enjoyed such
+an exquisite moment.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+[Sidenote: The Alhambra]
+
+
+From the church of _San Nicolas_, on the other side of the valley, the
+Alhambra, like all Moorish buildings externally very plain, with its red
+walls and low, tiled roofs, looks like some old charter-house. Encircled
+by the fresh green of the spring-time, it lies along the summit of the
+hill with an infinite, most simple grace, dun and brown and deep red;
+and from the sultry wall on which I sat the elm-trees and the poplars
+seemed very cool. Thirstily, after the long drought, the Darro, the Arab
+stream which ran scarlet with the blood of Moorish strife, wound its way
+over its stony bed among the hills; and beyond, in strange contrast with
+all the fertility, was the grey and silent grandeur of the Sierra
+Nevada. Few places can be more charming than the green wood in which
+stands the stronghold of the Moorish kings; the wind sighs among the
+topmost branches and all about is the sweet sound of running water; in
+spring the ground is carpeted with violets, and the heavy foliage gives
+an enchanting coldness. A massive gateway, flanked by watch-towers,
+forms the approach; but the actual entrance, offering no hint of the
+incredible magnificence within, is an insignificant door.
+
+But then, then you are immediately transported to a magic palace,
+existing in some uncertain age of fancy, which does not seem the work of
+human hands, but rather of Jin, an enchanted dwelling of seven lovely
+damsels. It is barely conceivable that historical persons inhabited such
+a place. At the same time it explains the wonderful civilisation of the
+Moors in Spain, with their fantastic battles, their songs and strange
+histories; and it brings the _Arabian Nights_ into the bounds of sober
+reality: after he has seen the Alhambra none can doubt the literal truth
+of the stories of Sinbad the Sailor and of Hasan of Bassorah.
+
+* * *
+
+From the terrace that overlooks the city you enter the Court of
+Myrtles--a long pool of water with goldfish swimming to and fro,
+enclosed by myrtle hedges. At the ends are arcades, borne by marble
+columns with capitals of surpassing beauty. It is very quiet and very
+restful; the placid water gives an indescribable sensation of delight,
+and at the end mirrors the slender columns and the decorated arches so
+that in reflection you see the entrance to a second palace, which is
+filled with mysterious, beautiful things. But in the Alhambra the
+imagination finds itself at last out of its depth, it cannot conjure up
+chambers more beautiful than the reality presents. It serves only to
+recall the old inhabitants to the deserted halls.
+
+The Moors continually used inscriptions with great effect, and there is
+one in this court which surpasses all others in its oriental imagery, in
+praise of Mohammed V.: _Thou givest safety from the breeze to the
+blades of grass, and inspirest terror in the very stars of heaven. When
+the shining stars quiver, it is through dread of thee, and when the
+grass of the field bends down it is to give thee thanks._
+
+But it is the Hall of the Ambassadors which shows most fully the
+unparalleled splendour of Moorish decoration. It is a square room, very
+lofty, with alcoves on three sides, at the bottom of which are windows;
+and the walls are covered, from the dado of tiles to the roof, with the
+richest and most varied ornamentation. The Moorish workmen did not spare
+themselves nor economise their exuberant invention. One pattern follows
+another with infinite diversity. Even the alcoves, and there are nine,
+are covered each with different designs, so that the mind is bewildered
+by their graceful ingenuity. All kinds of geometrical figures are used,
+enlacing with graceful intricacy, intersecting, combining and
+dissolving; conventional foliage and fruit, Arabic inscriptions. An
+industrious person has counted more than one hundred and fifty patterns
+in the Hall of the Ambassadors, impressed with iron moulds on the moist
+plaster of the walls. The roof is a low dome of larch wood, intricately
+carved and inlaid with ivory and with mother-of-pearl; it has been
+likened to the faceted surface of an elaborately cut gem. The effect is
+so gorgeous that you are oppressed; you long for some perfectly plain
+space whereon to rest the eye; but every inch is covered.
+
+Now the walls have preserved only delicate tints of red and blue, pale
+Wedgwood blues and faded terracottas, that make with the ivory of the
+plaster most exquisite harmonies; but to accord with the tiles, their
+brilliancy still undiminished, the colours must have been very bright.
+The complicated patterns and the gay hues reproduce the oriental carpets
+of the nomad's tent; for from the tent, it is said, (I know not with
+what justification,) all oriental architecture is derived. The fragile
+columns upon which rest masses of masonry are, therefore, direct
+imitations of tent-poles, and the stalactite borders of the arches
+represent the fringe of the woven hangings. The Moorish architect paid
+no attention to the rules of architecture, and it has been well said
+that if they existed for him at all it was only that he might
+elaborately disregard them. His columns generally support nothing; his
+arcades, so delicately worked that they seem like carved ivory, are of
+the lightest wood and plaster.
+
+And it is curious that there should be such durability in those dainty
+materials: they express well the fatalism of the luxurious Moor, to whom
+the past and future were as nothing, and the transient hour all in all;
+yet they have outlasted him and his conqueror. The Spaniard, inglorious
+and decayed, is now but the showman to this magnificence; time has seen
+his greatness come and go, as came and went the greatness of the Moor,
+but still, for all its fragility, the Alhambra stands hardly less
+beautiful. Travellers have always been astonished at the small size of
+the Alhambra, especially of the Court of Lions; for here, though the
+proportion is admirable the scale is tiny; and many have supposed that
+the Moors were of less imposing physique than modern Europeans. The
+Court is surrounded by exquisite little columns, singly, in twos, in
+threes, supporting horseshoe arches; and in the centre is that beautiful
+fountain, borne by twelve lions with bristly manes, standing very
+stiffly, whereon is the inscription: _O thou who beholdest these lions
+crouching, fear not. Life is wanting to enable them to show their fury._
+
+Indeed, their surroundings have such a delicate and playful grace that
+it is hard to believe the Moors had any of our strenuous, latter-day
+passions. Life must have been to them a masque rather than a
+tragi-comedy; and whether they belong to sober history or no, those
+contests of which the curious may read in the lively pages of Gines
+Perez de Hita accord excellently with the fanciful environment. In the
+Alhambra nothing seems more reasonable than those never-ending duels in
+which, for a lady's favour, gallant knights gave one another such blows
+that the air rang with them, such wounds that the ground was red with
+blood; but at sunset they separated and bound up their wounds and
+returned to the palace. And the king, at the relation of the adventure,
+was filled with amazement and with great content.
+
+* * *
+
+Yet, notwithstanding, I find in the Alhambra something unsatisfying; for
+many an inferior piece of architecture has set my mind a-working so that
+I have dreamed charming dreams, or seen vividly the life of other times.
+But here, I know not why, my imagination helps me scarcely at all. The
+existence led within these gorgeous walls is too remote; there is but
+little to indicate the thoughts, the feelings, of these people, and one
+can take the Alhambra only as a thing of beauty, and despair to
+understand.
+
+I know that it is useless to attempt with words to give an idea of these
+numerous chambers and courts. A string of superlatives can do no more
+than tire the reader, an exact description can only confuse; nor is the
+painter able to give more than a suggestion of the bewildering charm.
+The effect is too emotional to be conveyed from man to man, and each
+must feel it for himself. Charles V. called him unhappy who had lost
+such treasure--_desgraciado el que tal perdio_--and showed his own
+appreciation by demolishing a part to build a Renaissance palace for
+himself! It appears that kings have not received from heaven with their
+right divine to govern wrong the inestimable gift of good taste; and for
+them possibly it is fortunate, since when, perchance, a sovereign has
+the artistic temperament, a discerning people--cuts off his head.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+[Sidenote: Boabdil the Unlucky]
+
+
+He was indeed unhappy who lost such treasure. The plain of Granada
+smiles with luxuriant crops, a beautiful country, gay with a hundred
+colours, and in summer when the corn is ripe it burns with vivid gold.
+The sun shines with fiery rays from the blue sky, and from the
+snow-capped mountains cool breezes temper the heat.
+
+But from his cradle Boabdil was unfortunate; soothsayers prophesied that
+his reign would see the downfall of the Moorish power, and his every
+step tended to that end. Never in human existence was more evident the
+mysterious power of the three sisters, the daughters of Night; the Fates
+had spun his destiny, they placed the pitfalls before his feet and
+closed his eyes that he might not see; they hid from him the way of
+escape. _Allah Achbar!_ It was destiny. In no other way can be explained
+the madness which sped the victims of that tragedy to their ruin; for
+with the enemy at their very gates, the Muslims set up and displaced
+kings, plotted and counterplotted. Boabdil was twice deposed and twice
+regained the throne. Even when the Christian kingdoms had united to
+consume the remnant of Moorish sovereignty the Moors could not cease
+their quarrelling. Boabdil looked on with satisfaction while the
+territory of the rival claimant to his crown was wrested from him, and
+did not understand that his turn must inevitably follow. Verily, the
+gods, wishing to destroy him, had deranged his mind. It is a pitiful
+history of treachery and folly that was enacted while the Catholic
+Sovereigns devoured the pomegranate, seed by seed.
+
+To me history, with its hopes bound to be frustrated and its useless
+efforts, sometimes is so terrible that I can hardly read. I feel myself
+like one who lives, knowing the inevitable future, and yet is powerless
+to help. I see the acts of the poor human puppets, and know the disaster
+that must follow. I wonder if the Calvinists ever realised the agony of
+that dark God of theirs, omniscient and yet so strangely weak, to whom
+the eternal majesty of heaven was insufficient to save the predestined
+from everlasting death.
+
+* * *
+
+On March 22, 1491, began the last siege of Granada.
+
+Ferdinand marched his army into the plain and began to destroy the
+crops, taking one by one the surrounding towns. He made no attempt upon
+the city itself, and hostilities were confined to skirmishes beneath the
+walls and single combats between Christian knights and Muslim cavaliers,
+wherein on either side prodigies of valour were performed. Through the
+summer the Moors were able to get provisions from the Sierra Nevada, but
+when, with winter, the produce of the earth grew less and its conveyance
+more difficult, famine began to make itself felt. The Moors consoled
+themselves with the hope that the besieging army would retire with the
+cold weather, for such in those days was the rule of warfare; but
+Ferdinand was in earnest. When an accidental fire burned his camp, he
+built him a town of solid stone and mortar, which he named Santa Fe. It
+stands still, the only town in Spain wherein a Moorish foot has never
+trod. Then the Muslims understood at last that the Spaniard would never
+again leave that fruitful land.
+
+And presently they began to talk of surrender; Spanish gold worked its
+way with Boabdil's councillors, and before winter was out the
+capitulation was signed.
+
+On the second day of the new year the final scene of the tragedy was
+acted. Early in the morning, before break of day, Boabdil had sent his
+mother and his wife with the treasure to precede him to the Alpuxarras,
+in which district, by the conditions of the treaty, Ferdinand had
+assigned him a little kingdom. Himself had one more duty to perform, and
+at the prearranged hour he sallied forth with a wretched escort of fifty
+knights. On the Spanish side the night had been spent in joy and
+feasting; but how must Boabdil have spent his, thinking of the
+inevitable morrow? To him the hours must have sped like minutes. What
+must have been the agony of his last look at the Alhambra, that jewel of
+incalculable price? Mendoza, the cardinal, had been sent forward to
+occupy the palace, and Boabdil passed him on the hill.
+
+Soon he reached Ferdinand, who was stationed near a mosque surrounded by
+all the glory of his Court, pennons flying, and knights in their
+magnificent array. Boabdil would have thrown himself from his horse in
+sign of homage to kiss the hand of the king of Arragon, but Ferdinand
+prevented him. Then Boabdil delivered the keys of the Alhambra to the
+victor, saying: 'They are thine, O king, since Allah so decrees it; use
+thy success with clemency and moderation.' Moving on sadly he saluted
+Isabella, and passed to rejoin his family; the Christians processioned
+to the city with psalm-singing.
+
+But when Boabdil was crossing the mountains he turned to look at the
+city he had lost, and burst into tears.
+
+'You do well,' said his mother, 'to weep like a woman for what you could
+not defend like a man.'
+
+'Alas!' he cried, 'when were woes ever equal to mine?'
+
+It was not to be expected that the pious Kings of Castille and Arragon
+would keep their word, and means were soon invented to hound the
+wretched Boabdil from the principality they had granted. He crossed to
+Africa, and settled in Fez, of which the Sultan was his kinsman. It is
+pathetic to learn that there he built himself a palace in imitation of
+the Alhambra. At last, after many years, he was killed in an obscure
+battle fighting against the Sultan's rebels, and the Arab historian
+finishes the account of him with these words: 'Wretched man! who could
+lose his life in another's cause, though he dared not die in his own!
+Such was the immutable decree of destiny. Blessed be Allah, who exalteth
+and abaseth the kings of the earth according to His divine will, in the
+fulfilment of which consists that eternal justice which regulates all
+human affairs.'
+
+In the day of El Makkary, the historian of the Moorish Empire, Boabdil's
+descendants had so fallen that they were nothing but common beggars,
+subsisting upon the charitable allowances made to the poor from the
+funds of the mosques.
+
+_One generation passeth away and another generation cometh: but the
+earth abideth for ever._
+
+
+
+
+XXXV
+
+[Sidenote: Los Pobres]
+
+
+People say that in Granada the beggars are more importunate than in any
+other Spanish town, but throughout Andalusia their pertinacity and
+number are amazing. They are licensed by the State, and the brass badge
+they wear makes them demand alms almost as a right. It is curious to
+find that the Spaniard, who is by no means a charitable being, gives
+very often to beggars--perhaps from superstitious motives, thinking
+their prayers will be of service, or fearing the evil eye, which may
+punish a refusal. Begging is quite an honourable profession in Spain;
+mendicants are charitably termed the poor, and not besmirched, as in
+England, with an opprobrious name.
+
+I have never seen so many beggars as in Andalusia; at every church door
+there will be a dozen, and they stand or sit at each street corner,
+halt, lame and blind. Every possible deformity is paraded to arouse
+charity. Some look as though their eyes had been torn out, and they
+glare at you with horrible bleeding sockets; most indeed are blind, and
+you seldom fail to hear their monotonous cry, sometimes naming the
+saint's day to attract particular persons: 'Alms for the love of God,
+for a poor blind man on this the day of St. John!' They stand from
+morning till night, motionless, with hand extended, repeating the words
+as the sound of footsteps tells them some one is approaching; and then,
+as a coin is put in their hands, say gracefully: '_Dios se lo pagara!_
+God will repay you.'
+
+In Spain you do not pass silently when a beggar demands alms, but pray
+his mercy for God's love to excuse you: '_Perdone Usted por el amor de
+Dios!_' Or else you beseech God to protect him: '_Dios le ampare!_' And
+the mendicant, coming to your gate, sometimes invokes the Immaculate
+Virgin.
+
+'_Ave Maria purissima!_' he calls.
+
+And you, tired of giving, reply: '_Y por siempre!_ And for ever.'
+
+He passes on, satisfied with your answer, and rings at the next door.
+
+It is not only in Burgos that Theophile Gautier might have admired the
+beggar's divine rags; everywhere they wrap their cloaks about them in
+the same magnificent fashion. The _capa_, I suppose, is the most
+graceful of all the garments of civilised man, and never more so than
+when it barely holds together, a mass of rags and patches, stained by
+the rain and bleached by the sun and wind. It hangs straight from the
+neck in big simple lines, or else is flung over one shoulder with a
+pompous wealth of folds.
+
+There is a strange immobility about Andalusian beggars which recalls
+their Moorish ancestry. They remain for hours in the same attitude,
+without moving a muscle; and one I knew in Seville stood day after day,
+from early morning till midnight, with hand outstretched in the same
+rather crooked position, never saying a word, but merely trusting to the
+passer-by to notice. The variety is amazing, men and women and children;
+and Seville at fair-time, or when the foreigners are coming for Holy
+Week, is like an enormous hospital. Mendicants assail you on all sides,
+the legless dragging themselves on their hands, the halt running towards
+you with a crutch, the blind led by wife or child, the deaf and dumb,
+the idiotic. I remember a woman with dead eyes and a huge hydrocephalic
+head, who sat in a bath-chair by one of the cathedral doors, and
+whenever people passed, cried shrilly for money in a high, unnatural
+voice. Sometimes they protrude maimed limbs, feetless legs or arms
+without hands; they display loathsome wounds, horribly inflamed; every
+variety of disease is shown to extort a copper. And so much is it a
+recognised trade that they have their properties, as it were: one old
+man whose legs had been shot away, trotted through the narrow streets of
+Seville on a diminutive ass, driving it into the shop-doors to demand
+his mite. Then there are the children, the little boys and girls that
+Murillo painted, barely covered by filthy rags, cherubs with black hair
+and shining eyes, the most importunate of all the tribe. The refusal of
+a halfpenny is followed impudently by demands for a cigarette, and as a
+last resort for a match; they wander about with keen eyes for
+cigar-ends, and no shred of a smoked leaf is too diminutive for them to
+get no further use from it.
+
+And beside all these are the blind fiddlers, scraping out old-fashioned
+tunes that were popular thirty years ago; the guitarists, singing the
+_flamenco_ songs which have been sung in Spain ever since the Moorish
+days; the buffoons, who extract tunes from a broomstick; the owners of
+performing dogs.
+
+They are a picturesque lot, neither vicious nor ill-humoured. Begging is
+a fairly profitable trade, and not a very hard one; in winter _el pobre_
+can always find a little sunshine, and in summer a little shade. It is
+no hardship for him to sit still all day; he would probably do little
+else if he were a millionaire. He looks upon life without bitterness;
+Fate has not been very kind, but it is certainly better to be a live
+beggar than a dead king, and things might have been ten thousand times
+worse. For instance, he might not have been born a Spaniard, and every
+man in his senses knows that Spain is the greatest nation on earth,
+while to be born a citizen of some other country is the most dreadful
+misfortune that can befall him. He has his licence from the State, and a
+charitable public sees that he does not absolutely starve; he has
+cigarettes to smoke--to say that a blind man cannot enjoy tobacco is
+evidently absurd--and therefore, all these things being so, why should
+he think life such a woeful matter? While it lasts the sun is there to
+shine equally on rich and poor, and afterwards will not a paternal
+government find a grave in the public cemetery? It is true that the
+beggar shares it with quite a number of worthy persons, doubtless most
+estimable corpses, and his coffin even is but a temporary
+convenience--but still, what does it matter?
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+[Sidenote: The Song]
+
+
+But the Moorish influence is nowhere more apparent than in the Spanish
+singing. There is nothing European in that quavering lament, in those
+long-drawn and monotonous notes, in those weird trills. The sounds are
+strange to the ear accustomed to less barbarous harmonies, and at first
+no melody is perceived; it is custom alone which teaches the sad and
+passionate charm of these things. A _malaguena_ is the particular
+complaint of the maid sorrowing for an absent lover, of the peasant who
+ploughs his field in the declining day. The long notes of such a song,
+floating across the silence of the night, are like a new melody on the
+great harpsichord of human sorrow. No emotion is more poignant than that
+given by the faint sad sounds of a Spanish song as one wanders through
+the deserted streets in the dead of night; or far in the country, with
+the sun setting red in the cloudless sky, when the stillness is broken
+only by the melancholy chanting of a shepherd among the olive-trees.
+
+An heritage of Moordom is the Spanish love for the improvisation of
+well-turned couplets; in olden days a skilful verse might procure the
+poet a dress of cloth-of-gold, and it did on one occasion actually
+raise a beggar-maid to a royal throne: even now it has power to secure
+the lover his lady's most tender smiles, or at the worst a glass of
+Manzanilla. The richness of the language helps him with his rhymes, and
+his southern imagination gives him manifold subjects. But, being the
+result of improvisation--no lady fair would consider the suit of a
+gallant who could not address her in couplets of his own devising--the
+Spanish song has a peculiar character. The various stanzas have no
+bearing upon one another; they consist of four or seven lines, but in
+either case each contains its definite sentiment; so that one verse may
+be a complete song, or the singer may continue as long as the muse
+prompts and his subject's charms occasion. The Spanish song is like a
+barbaric necklace in which all manner of different stones are strung
+upon a single cord, without thought for their mutual congruity.
+
+Naturally the vast majority of the innumerable couplets thus invented
+are forgotten as soon as sung, but now and then the fortuitous
+excellence of one impresses it on the maker's recollection, and it may
+be preserved. Here is an example which has been agreeably translated by
+Mr. J. W. Crombie; but neither original nor English rendering can give
+an adequate idea of the charm which depends on the oriental melancholy
+of the music:
+
+    Dos besos tengo en el alma
+    Que no se apartan de mi:
+    El ultimo de mi madre,
+    Y el primero que te di.
+
+    _Deep in my soul two kisses rest,_
+    _Forgot they ne'er shall be:_
+    _The last my mother's lips impressed,_
+    _The first I stole from thee._
+
+Here is another, the survival of which testifies to the Spanish extreme
+love of a compliment; and the somewhat hackneyed sentiment can only have
+made it more pleasant to the feminine ear:
+
+    Salga el sol, si ha de salir,
+    Y si no, que nunca salga;
+    Que para alumbrarme a mi
+    La luz de tus ojos basta.
+
+    _If the sun care to rise, let him rise,_
+    _But if not, let him ever lie hid;_
+    _For the light from my lady-love's eyes_
+    _Shines forth as the sun never did._
+
+It is a diverting spectacle to watch a professional improviser in the
+throes of inspiration. This is one of the stock 'turns' of the Spanish
+music-hall, and one of the most popular. I saw a woman in Granada, who
+was quite a celebrity; and the barbaric wildness of her performance,
+with its accompaniment of hand-clapping, discordant cries, and twanging
+of guitar, harmonised well with my impression of the sombre and mediaeval
+city.
+
+She threaded her way to the stage among the crowded tables, through the
+auditorium, a sallow-faced creature, obese and large-boned, with coarse
+features and singularly ropy hair. She was accompanied by a fat small
+man with a guitar and a woman of mature age and ample proportions: it
+appeared that the cultivation of the muse, evidently more profitable
+than in England, conduced to adiposity. They stepped on the stage,
+taking chairs with them, for in Spain you do not stand to sing, and were
+greeted with plentiful applause. The little fat man began to play the
+long prelude to the couplet; the old woman clapped her hands and
+occasionally uttered a raucous cry. The poetess gazed into the air for
+inspiration. The guitarist twanged on, and in the audience there were
+scattered cries of _Ole!_ Her companions began to look at the singer
+anxiously, for the muse was somewhat slow; and she patted her knee and
+groaned; at last she gave a little start and smiled. _Ole! Ole!_ The
+inspiration had come. She gave a moan, which lengthened into the
+characteristic trill, and then began the couplet, beating time with her
+hands. Such an one as this:
+
+Suspires que de mi salgan,
+Y otros que de ti saldran,
+Si en el camino se encuentran
+Que de cosas se diran!
+
+_If all the sighs thy lips now shape_
+_Could meet upon the way_
+_With those that from mine own escape_
+_What things they'd have to say!_
+
+She finished, and all three rose from their chairs and withdrew them,
+but it was only a false exit; immediately the applause grew clamorous
+they sat down again, and the little fat man repeated his introduction.
+
+But this time there was no waiting. The singer had noticed a well-known
+bull-fighter and quickly rolled off a couplet in his praise. The
+subject beamed with delight, and the general enthusiasm knew no bounds.
+The people excitedly threw their hats on the stage, and these were
+followed by a shower of coppers, which the performers, more heedful to
+the compensation of Art than to its dignity, grovelled to picked up.
+
+* * *
+
+Here is a lover's praise of the whiteness of his lady's skin:
+
+    La neve por tu cara
+      Paso diciendo:
+    En donde no hago falta
+      No me detengo.
+
+    _Before thy brow the snow-flakes_
+      _Hurry past and say:_
+    _'Where we are not needed,_
+      _Wherefore should we stay?'_
+
+And this last, like the preceding translated by Mr. Crombie, shows once
+more how characteristic are Murillo's Holy Families of the popular
+sentiment:
+
+    La Virgen lava la ropa,
+    San Jose la esta tendiendo,
+    Santa Ana entretiene el nino,
+    Y el agua se va riendo.
+
+    _The Virgin is washing the clothes at the brook._
+    _And Saint Joseph hangs them to dry._
+    _Saint Anna plays with the Holy Babe,_
+    _And the water flows smiling by._
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+[Sidenote: Jerez]
+
+
+Jerez is the Andalusian sunshine again after the dark clouds of Granada.
+It is a little town in the middle of a fertile plain, clean and
+comfortable and spacious. It is one of the richest places in Spain; the
+houses have an opulent look, and without the help of Baedeker you may
+guess that they contain respectable persons with incomes, and carriages
+and horses, with frock-coats and gold watch-chains. I like the people of
+Jerez; their habitual expression suggests a consciousness that the
+Almighty is pleased with them, and they without doubt are well content
+with the Almighty. The main street, with its trim shops and its _cafes_,
+has the air of a French provincial town--an appearance of agreeable ease
+and dulness.
+
+Every building in Jerez is washed with lime, and in the sunlight the
+brilliancy is dazzling. You realise then that in Seville the houses are
+not white--although the general impression is of a white town--but, on
+the contrary, tinted with various colours from faintest pink to pale
+blue, pale green; they remind you of the summer dresses of women. The
+soft tones are all mingled with the sunlight and very restful. But Jerez
+is like a white banner floating under the cloudless sky, the pure white
+banner of Bacchus raised defiantly against the gaudy dyes of teetotalism
+and its shrieking trumpets.
+
+Jerez the White is, of course, the home of sherry, and the whole town is
+given over to the preparation of the grateful juice. The air is
+impregnated with a rich smell. The sun shines down on Jerez; and its
+cleanliness, its prosperity, are a rebuke to harsh-voiced contemners of
+the grape.
+
+You pass _bodega_ after _bodega_, cask-factories, bottle-factories. A
+bottle-factory is a curious, interesting place, an immense barn, sombre,
+so that the eye loses itself in the shadows of the roof; and the scanty
+light is red and lurid from the furnaces, which roar hoarsely and long.
+Against the glow the figures of men, half-naked, move silently,
+performing the actions of their craft with a monotonous regularity which
+is strange and solemn. They move to and fro, carrying an iron instrument
+on which is the molten mass of red-hot glass, and it gleams with an
+extraordinary warm brilliancy. It twists hither and thither in obedience
+to the artisan's deft movements; it coils and writhes into odd shapes,
+like a fire-snake curling in the torture of its own unearthly ardour.
+The men pass so regularly, with such a silent and exact precision, that
+it seems a weird and mystic measure they perform--a rhythmic dance of
+unimaginable intricacy, whose meaning you cannot gather and whose
+harmony escapes you. The flames leap and soar in a thousand savage
+forms, and their dull thunder fills your ears with a confusion of sound.
+Your eyes become accustomed to the dimness, and you discern more
+clearly the features of those swarthy men, bearded and gnome-like. But
+the molten mass has been put into the mould; you watch it withdrawn, the
+bottom indented, the mouth cut and shaped. And now it is complete, but
+still red-hot, and glowing with an infernal transparency, gem-like and
+wonderful; it is a bottle fit now for the juice of satanic vineyards,
+and the miraculous potions of eternal youth, for which men in the old
+days bartered their immortal souls.
+
+And the effect of a _bodega_ is picturesque, too, though in a different
+way. It is a bright and cheerful spot, a huge shed with whitewashed
+walls and an open roof supported by dark beams; great casks are piled
+up, impressing you in their vast rotundity with a sort of aldermanic
+stateliness. The whole place is fragrant with clean, vinous perfumes.
+Your guide carries a glass and a long filler. You taste wine after wine,
+in different shades of brown; light wines to drink with your dinner,
+older wines to drink before your coffee; wines more than a century old,
+of which the odour is more delicate than violets; new wines of the
+preceding year, strong and rough; Amontillados, with the softest flavour
+in the world; Manzanillas for the gouty; Marsalas, heavy and sweet;
+wines that smell of wild-flowers; cheap wines and expensive wines. Then
+the brandies--the distiller tells you proudly that Spanish brandy is
+made from wine, and contemptuously that French brandy is not--old
+brandies for which a toper would sell his soul; new brandies like
+fusel-oil; brandies mellow and mild and rich. It is a drunkard's
+paradise.
+
+And why should not the drinker have his paradise? The teetotallers have
+slapped their bosoms and vowed that liquor was the devil's own
+invention. (Note, by the way, that liquor is a noble word that should
+not be applied to those weak-kneed abominations that insolently flaunt
+their lack of alcohol. Let them be called liquids or fluids or
+beverages, or what you will. Liquor is a word for heroes, for the
+British tar who has built up British glory--Imperialism is quite the
+fashion now.) And for a hundred years none has dared lift his voice in
+refutation of these dyspeptic slanders. The toper did not care, he
+nursed his bottle and let the world say what it would; but the moderate
+drinker was abashed. Who will venture to say that a glass of beer gives
+savour to the humblest crust, and comforts Corydon, lamenting the
+inconstancy of Phyllis? Who will come forward and strike an attitude and
+prove the benefits of the grape? (The attitude is essential, for without
+it you cannot hope to impress your fellow men.) Rise up in your might,
+ye lovers of hop and grape and rye--rise up and slay the Egyptians. Be
+honest and thank your stars for the cup that cheers. Bacchus was not a
+pot-bellied old sot, but a beautiful youth with vine-leaves in his hair,
+Bacchus the lover of flowers; and Ariadne was charming.
+
+* * *
+
+The country about Jerez undulates in just such an easy comfortable
+fashion as you would expect. It is scenery of the gentlest and
+pleasantest type, sinuous; little hills rising with rounded lines and
+fertile valleys. The vines cover the whole land, creeping over the brown
+soil fantastically, black stumps, shrivelled and gnarled, tortured into
+uncouth shapes; they remind you of the creeping things in a naturalist's
+museum, of giant spiders and great dried centipedes and scorpions. But
+imagine the vineyards later, when the spring has stirred the earth with
+fecundity! The green shoots tenderly forth; at first it is all too
+delicate for a colour, it is but a mist of indescribable tenuity; and
+gradually the leaves burst out and trail along the ground with
+ever-increasing luxuriance; and then it is a rippling sea of passionate
+verdure.
+
+But I liked Jerez best towards evening, when the sun had set and the
+twilight glided through the tortuous alleys like a woman dressed in
+white. Then, as I walked in the silent streets, narrow and steep, with
+their cobble-paving, the white houses gained a new aspect. There seemed
+not a soul in the world, and the loneliness was more intoxicating than
+all their wines; the shining sun was gone, and the sky lost its blue
+richness, it became so pale that you felt it like a face of death--and
+the houses looked like long rows of tombs. We walked through the
+deserted streets, I and the woman dressed in white, side by side
+silently; our footsteps made no sound upon the stones. And Jerez was
+wrapped in a ghostly shroud. Ah, the beautiful things I have seen which
+other men have not!
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+[Sidenote: Cadiz]
+
+
+I admire the strenuous tourist who sets out in the morning with his
+well-thumbed Baedeker to examine the curiosities of a foreign town, but
+I do not follow in his steps; his eagerness after knowledge, his
+devotion to duty, compel my respect, but excite me to no imitation. I
+prefer to wander in old streets at random without a guide-book, trusting
+that fortune will bring me across things worth seeing; and if
+occasionally I miss some monument that is world-famous, more often I
+discover some little dainty piece of architecture, some scrap of
+decoration, that repays me for all else I lose. And in this fashion the
+less pretentious beauties of a town delight me, which, if I sought under
+the guidance of the industrious German, would seem perhaps scarcely
+worth the trouble. Nor do I know that there is in Cadiz much to attract
+the traveller beyond the grace with which it lies along the blue sea and
+the unstudied charm of its gardens, streets, and market-place; the echo
+in the cathedral to which the gaping tripper listens with astonishment
+leaves me unmoved; and in the church of _Santa Catalina_, which contains
+the last work of Murillo, upon which he was engaged at his death, I am
+more interested in the tall stout priest, unctuous and astute, who
+shows me his treasure, than in the picture itself. I am relieved now and
+again to visit a place that has no obvious claims on my admiration; it
+throws me back on the peculiarities of the people, on the stray
+incidents of the street, on the contents of the shops.
+
+Cadiz is said to be the gayest town in Andalusia. Spaniards have always
+a certain gravity; they are not very talkative, and like the English,
+take their pleasures a little sadly. But here lightness of heart is
+thought to reign supreme, and the inhabitants have not even the apparent
+seriousness with which the Sevillan cloaks a somewhat vacant mind. They
+are great theatre-goers, and as dancers, of course, have been famous
+since the world began. But I doubt whether Cadiz deserves its
+reputation, for it always seems to me a little prim. The streets are
+well-kept and spacious, the houses, taller than is usual in Andalusia,
+have almost as cared-for an appearance as those in a prosperous suburb
+of London; and it is only quite occasionally, when you catch a glimpse
+of tawny rock and of white breakwater against the blue sea, that by a
+reminiscence of Naples you can persuade yourself it is as immoral as
+they say. For, not unlike the Syren City, Cadiz lies white and cool
+along the bay, with gardens at the water's edge; but it has not the
+magic colour of its rival, it is quieter, smaller, more restful; and on
+the whole lacks that agreeable air of wickedness which the Italian town
+possesses to perfection. It is impossible to be a day in Naples without
+discovering that it is the most depraved city in Europe; there is
+something in the atmosphere which relaxes the moral fibre, and the
+churchwarden who keeps guard in the bosom of every Englishman falls
+asleep, so that you feel capable of committing far more than the seven
+deadly sins. Of course, you don't, but still it is comfortable to have
+them within reach.
+
+* * *
+
+I came across, while examining the wares of a vendor of antiquities, a
+contemporary narrative from the Spanish side of the attack made on Cadiz
+by Sir Francis Drake when he set out to singe the beard of Philip II.;
+and this induced me afterwards to look into the English story. It is far
+from me to wish to inform the reader, but the account is not
+undiverting, and shows, besides, a frame of mind which the Anglo-Saxon
+has not ceased to cultivate. 'But the Almighty God,' says the historian,
+'knowing and seeing his (the Spanish king's) wicked intent to punish,
+molest, and trouble His little flock, the children of Israel, hath
+raised up a faithful Moses for the defence of His chosen, and will not
+suffer His people utterly to fall into the hands of their enemies.'
+Drake set sail from Plymouth with four of her Majesty's ships, two
+pinnaces, and some twenty merchantmen. A vessel was sent after, charging
+him not to show hostilities, but the messenger, owing to contrary winds,
+could never come near the admiral, and vastly to the annoyance of the
+Virgin Queen, as she solemnly assured the ambassadors of foreign powers,
+had to sail home. Under the circumstances it was, perhaps, hardly
+discreet of her to take so large a share of the booty.
+
+Faithful Moses arrived in Cadiz, spreading horrid consternation, and the
+Spanish pamphlet shows very vividly the confusion of the enemy. It
+appears that, had he boldly landed, he might have sacked the town, but
+he imagined the preparations much greater than they were. However, he
+was not idle. 'The same night our general, having, by God's good favour
+and sufferance, opportunity to punish the enemy of God's true gospel and
+our daily adversary, and further willing to discharge his expected duty
+towards God, his peace and country, began to sink and fire divers of
+their ships.'
+
+The English fleet burned thirty sail of great burden, and captured vast
+quantities of the bread, wheat, wine and oil which had been prepared for
+the descent upon England. Sir Francis Drake himself remarks that 'the
+sight of the terrible fires were to us very pleasant, and mitigated the
+burden of our continual travail, wherein we were busied for two nights
+and one day, in discharging, firing, and lading of provisions.'
+
+* * *
+
+It is a curious thing to see entirely deserted a place of entertainment,
+where great numbers of people are in the habit of assembling. A theatre
+by day, without a soul in it, gives me always a sensation of the
+ridiculous futility of things; and a public garden towards evening
+offers the same emotion. On the morrow I was starting for Africa; I
+watched the sunset from the quays of Cadiz, the vapours of the twilight
+rise and envelop the ships in greyness, and I walked by the _alamadas_
+that stretch along the bay till I came to the park. The light was
+rapidly failing and I found myself alone. It had quaint avenues of
+short palms, evidently not long planted, and between them rows of yellow
+iron chairs arranged with great neatness and precision. It was there
+that on Sunday I had seen the populace disport itself, and it was full
+of life then, gay and insouciant. The fair ladies drove in their
+carriages, and the fine gentlemen, proud of their English clothes,
+lounged idly. The chairs were taken by all the lesser fry, by stout
+mothers, dragons attendant on dark-eyed girls, and their lovers in broad
+hats, in all the gala array of the _flamenco_. There was a joyous
+clamour of speech and laughter; the voices of Spanish women are harsh
+and unrestrained; the park sparkled with colour, and the sun caught the
+fluttering of countless fans.
+
+For those blithe people it seemed that there was no morrow: the present
+was there to be enjoyed, divine and various, and the world was full of
+beauty and of sunshine; merely to live was happiness enough; if there
+was pain or sorrow it served but to enhance the gladness. The hurrying
+hours for a while had ceased their journey. Life was a cup of red wine,
+and they were willing to drink its very dregs, a brimming cup in which
+there was no bitterness, but a joy more thrilling than the gods could
+give in all their paradise.
+
+But now I walked alone between the even rows of chairs. The little palms
+were so precise, with their careful foliage, that they did not look like
+real trees; the flower-beds were very stiff and neat, and now and then a
+pine stood out, erect and formal as if it were a cardboard tree from a
+Noah's Ark. The scene was so artificial that it brought to my mind the
+setting of a pantomime. I stopped, almost expecting a thousand
+ballet-girls to appear from the wings, scantily clad, and go through a
+measure to the playing of some sudden band, and retire and come forward
+till the stage was filled and a great tableau formed.
+
+But the day grew quite dim, and the vast stage remained empty. The
+painted scene became still more unreal, and presently the park was
+filled with the ghostly shapes of all the light-hearted people who had
+lived their hour and exhibited their youth in the empty garden. I heard
+the whispered compliments, and the soft laughter of the ladies; there
+was a peculiar little snap as gaily they closed their fans.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+[Sidenote: El Genero Chico]
+
+
+In the evening I wandered again along the quay, my thoughts part
+occupied with the novel things I expected from Morocco, part sorrowful
+because I must leave the scented land of Spain. I seemed never before to
+have enjoyed so intensely the exquisite softness of the air, and there
+was all about me a sense of spaciousness which gave a curious feeling of
+power. In the harbour, on the ships, the lights of the masts twinkled
+like the stars above; and looking over the stony parapet, I heard the
+waves lap against the granite like a long murmur of regret; I tried to
+pierce the darkness, straining my eyes to see some deeper obscurity
+which I might imagine to be the massive coasts of Africa. But at last I
+could bear the solitude no longer, and I dived into the labyrinth of
+streets.
+
+At first, in unfrequented ways, I passed people only one by one, some
+woman walking rapidly with averted face, or a pair of chattering
+students; but as I came near the centre of the town the passers-by grew
+more frequent, and suddenly I found myself in the midst of a thronging,
+noisy crowd. I looked up and saw that I was opposite a theatre; the
+people had just come from the second _funcion_. I had heard that the
+natives of Cadiz were eager theatre-goers, and was curious to see how
+they took this pleasure. I saw also that the next piece was _Las
+Borrachos_, a play of Seville life that I had often seen; and I felt
+that I could not spend my last evening better than in living again some
+of those scenes which pattered across my heart now like little sorrowful
+feet.
+
+* * *
+
+The theatre in Spain is the only thing that has developed further than
+in the rest of Europe--in fact, it has nearly developed clean away. The
+Spaniards were the first to confess that dramatic art bored them to
+death; and their habits rendered impossible the long play which took an
+evening to produce. Eating late, they did not wish to go to the theatre
+till past nine; being somewhat frivolous, they could not sit for more
+than an hour without going outside and talking to their friends; and
+they were poor. To satisfy their needs the _genero chico_, or little
+style, sprang into existence; and quickly every theatre in Spain was
+given over to the system of four houses a night. Each function is
+different, and the stall costs little more than sixpence.
+
+We English are idealists; and on the stage especially reality stinks in
+our nostrils. The poor are vulgar, and in our franker moments we confess
+our wish to have nothing to do with them. The middle classes are sordid;
+we have enough of them in real life, and no desire to observe their
+doings at the theatre, particularly when we wear our evening clothes.
+But when a dramatist presents duchesses to our admiring eyes, we feel
+at last in our element; we watch the acts of persons whom we would
+willingly meet at dinner, and our craving for the ideal is satisfied.
+
+But in Spain nobles are common and excite no overwhelming awe. The
+Spaniard, most democratic of Europeans, clamours for realism, and
+nothing pleases him more than a literal transcript of the life about
+him. The manners and customs of good society do not entertain him, and
+the _genero chico_ concerns itself almost exclusively with the lower
+classes. The bull-fighter is, of course, one of the most usual figures;
+and round him are gathered the lovers of the ring, inn-keepers, cobblers
+and carpenters, policemen, workmen, flower-sellers, street-singers,
+cigarette girls, country maidens. The little pieces are innumerable, and
+together form a compend of low life in Spain; the best are full of
+gaiety and high spirits, with a delicate feeling for character, and
+often enough are touched by a breath of poetry. Songs and dances are
+introduced, and these come in the more naturally since the action
+generally takes place on a holiday. The result is a musical comedy in
+one act; but with nothing in it of the entertainment which is a joy to
+the British public: an Andalusian audience would never stand that
+representation of an impossible and vulgar world in which the women are
+all trollops and the men, rips, nincompoops and bounders; they would
+never suffer the coarse humour and the shoddy patriotism.
+
+Unfortunately, these one-act plays have destroyed the legitimate drama.
+Whereas Maria Guerrero, that charming actress, will have a run of twenty
+nights in a new play by Echegaray, a popular _zarzuela_ will be acted
+hundreds of times in every town in Spain. But none can regret that the
+Spaniards have evolved these very national little pieces, and little has
+been lost in the non-existence of an indefinite number of imitations
+from the French. The _zarzuela_, I should add, lasts about an hour, and
+for the most part is divided into three scenes.
+
+Such a play as _Los Borrachos_ is nothing less than a _genre_ picture of
+Seville life. It reminds one of a painting by Teniers; and I should like
+to give some idea of it, since it is really one of the best examples of
+the class, witty, varied, and vivacious. But an obstacle presents itself
+in the fact that I can find no vestige of a plot. The authors set out to
+characterise the various lovers of the vine, (nowhere in Andalusia are
+the devotees of the yellow Manzanilla more numerous than in Seville,)
+and with telling strokes have drawn the good-natured tippler, the surly
+tippler, the religious tippler. To these they have added other types,
+which every Andalusian can recognise as old friends--the sharp-tongued
+harridan, the improviser of couplets with his ridiculous vanity, the
+flower-seller, and the 'prentice-boy of fifteen, who, notwithstanding
+his tender years, is afflicted with love for the dark-eyed heroine. The
+action takes place first in a street, then in a court-yard, lastly in a
+carpenter's shop. There are dainty love-scenes between Soledad, the
+distressed maiden, and Juanillo, the flower-seller; and one, very
+Spanish, where the witty and precocious apprentice offers her his
+diminutive hand and heart. Numerous people come and go, the drunkards
+drink and quarrel and make peace; the whole thing, if somewhat confused,
+is very life-like, and runs with admirable lightness and ease. It is
+true that the play has neither beginning nor end, but perhaps that only
+makes it seem the truer; and if the scenes have no obvious connection
+they are all amusing and characteristic. It is acted with extraordinary
+spirit. The players, indeed, are not acting, but living their ordinary
+lives, and it is pleasant to see the zest with which they throw
+themselves into the performance. When the hero presses the heroine in
+his arms, smiles and passionate glances pass between them, which suggest
+that even the love-making is not entirely make-believe.
+
+I wish I could translate the song which Juanillo sings when he passes
+his lady's window, bearing his basket of flowers:
+
+    Carnations for pretty girls that are true,
+    Musk-roses for pretty girls that are coy,
+    Rosebuds as small as thy mouth, my dearest,
+    And roses as fair as thy cheeks.
+
+I cannot, indeed, resist the temptation of giving one verse in that
+Andalusian dialect, from which all harsh consonants and unmusical sounds
+have been worn away--the most complete and perfect language in the world
+for lovers and the passion of love:
+
+      _Sal, morena, a tu ventana,_
+    _Mira las flores que traigo;_
+    _Sal y di si son bastantes_
+    _Pa arfombrita de tu cuarto._
+      _Que yo te quiero_
+      _Y a ti te doy_
+    _Tos los tesoros der mundo entero,_
+    _To le que vargo, to lo que soy._
+
+
+
+
+XL
+
+[Sidenote: Adios]
+
+
+And then the morrow was come. Getting up at five to catch my boat, I
+went down to the harbour; a grey mist hung over the sea, and the sun had
+barely risen, a pallid, yellow circle; the fishing-boats lolled on the
+smooth, dim water, and fishermen in little groups blew on their fingers.
+
+And from Cadiz I saw the shores of Spain sink into the sea; I saw my
+last of Andalusia. Who, when he leaves a place that he has loved, can
+help wondering when he will see it again? I asked the wind, and it
+sighed back the Spanish answer: '_Quien sabe?_ Who knows?' The traveller
+makes up his mind to return quickly, but all manner of things happen,
+and one accident or another prevents him; time passes till the desire is
+lost, and when at last he comes back, himself has altered or changes
+have occurred in the old places and all seems different. He looks quite
+coldly at what had given an intense emotion, and though he may see new
+things, the others hardly move him; it is not thus he imagined them in
+the years of waiting. And how can he tell what the future may have in
+store; perhaps, notwithstanding all his passionate desires, he will
+indeed never return.
+
+Of course the intention of this book is not to induce people to go to
+Spain: railway journeys are long and tedious, the trains crawl, and the
+hotels are bad. Experienced globe-trotters have told me that all
+mountains are very much alike, and that pictures, when you have seen a
+great many, offer no vast difference. It is much better to read books of
+travel than to travel oneself; he really enjoys foreign lands who never
+goes abroad; and the man who stays at home, preserving his illusions,
+has certainly the best of it. How delightful is the anticipation as he
+looks over time-tables and books of photographs, forming delightful
+images of future pleasure! But the reality is full of disappointment,
+and the more famous the monument the bitterer the disillusion. Has any
+one seen St. Peter's without asking himself: Is that all? And the truest
+enjoyment arises from things that come unexpectedly, that one had never
+heard of. Then, living in a strange land, one loses all impression of
+its strangeness; it is only afterwards, in England, that one realises
+the charm and longs to return; and a hundred pictures rise to fill the
+mind with delight. Why can one not be strong enough to leave it at that
+and never tempt the fates again?
+
+The wisest thing is to leave unvisited in every country some place that
+one wants very much to see. In Italy I have never been to Siena, and in
+Andalusia I have taken pains to avoid Malaga. The guide-books tell me
+there is nothing whatever to see there; and according to them it is
+merely a prosperous sea-port with a good climate. But to me, who have
+never seen it, Malaga is something very different; it is the very cream
+of Andalusia, where every trait and characteristic is refined to perfect
+expression.
+
+I imagine Malaga to be the most smiling town on the seaboard, and it
+lies along the shore ten times more charmingly than Cadiz. The houses
+are white, whiter than in Jerez; the patios are beautiful with oranges
+and palm-trees, and the dark green of the luxuriant foliage contrasts
+with the snowy walls. In Malaga the sky is always blue and the sun
+shines, but the narrow Arab streets are cool and shady. The passionate
+odours of Andalusia float in the air, the perfume of a myriad cigarettes
+and the fresh scent of fruit and flower. The blue sea lazily kisses the
+beach and fishing-boats bask on its bosom.
+
+In Malaga, for me, there are dark churches, with massive, tall pillars;
+the light falls softly through the painted glass, regilding the golden
+woodwork, the angels and the saints and the bishops in their mitres. The
+air is heavy with incense, and women in _mantillas_ kneel in the
+half-light, praying silently. Now and then I come across an old house
+with a fragment of Moorish work, reminding me that here again the Moors
+have left their mark.
+
+And in Malaga, for me, the women are more lovely than in Seville; for
+their dark eyes glitter marvellously, and their lips, so red and soft,
+are ever trembling with a half-formed smile. They are more graceful than
+the daffodils, their hands are lovers' sighs, and their voice is a
+caressing song. (What was your voice like, Rosarito? Alas! it is so long
+ago that I forget.) The men are tall and slender, with strong, clear
+features and shining eyes, deep sunken in their sockets.
+
+In Malaga, for me, life is a holiday in which there are no dullards and
+no bores; all the world is strong and young and full of health, and
+there is nothing to remind one of horrible things. Malaga, I know, is
+the most delightful place in Andalusia. Oh, how refreshing it is to get
+away from sober fact, but what a fool I should be ever to go there!
+
+* * *
+
+The steamer plods on against the wind slowly, and as the land sinks
+away, unsatisfied to leave the impressions hovering vaguely through my
+mind, I try to find the moral. The Englishman, ever somewhat
+sententiously inclined, asks what a place can teach him. The
+churchwarden in his bosom gives no constant, enduring peace; and after
+all, though he may be often ridiculous, it is the churchwarden who has
+made good part of England's greatness.
+
+And most obviously Andalusia suggests that it might not be ill to take
+things a little more easily: we English look upon life so very
+seriously, so much without humour. Is it worth while to be quite so
+strenuous? At the stations on the line between Jerez and Cadiz, I
+noticed again how calmly they took things; people lounged idly talking
+to one another; the officials of the railway smoked their cigarettes; no
+one was in a hurry, time was long, and whether the train arrived late or
+punctual could really matter much to no one. A beggar came to the
+window, a cigarette-end between his lips.
+
+'_Caballero!_ Alms for the love of God for a poor old man. God will
+repay you!'
+
+He passed slowly down the train. It waited for no reason; the passengers
+stared idly at the loungers on the platform, and they stared idly back.
+No one moved except to roll himself a cigarette. The sky was blue and
+the air warm and comforting. Life seemed good enough, and above all
+things easy. There was no particular cause to trouble. What is the use
+of hurrying to pile up money when one can live on so little? What is the
+use of reading these endless books? Why not let things slide a little,
+and just take what comes our way? It is only for a little while, and
+then the great antique mother receives us once more in her bosom. And
+there are so many people in the world. Think again of all the countless
+hordes who have come and gone, and who will come and go; the immense sea
+of Time covers them, and what matters the life they led? What odds is it
+that they ever existed at all? Let us do our best to be happy; the earth
+is good and sweet-smelling, there is sunshine and colour and youth and
+loveliness; and afterwards--well, let us shrug our shoulders and not
+think of it.
+
+And then in bitter irony, contradicting my moral, a train came in with a
+number of Cuban soldiers. There were above fifty of them, and they had
+to change at the junction. They reached out to open the carriage doors
+and crawled down to the platform. Some of them seemed at death's door;
+they could not walk, and chairs were brought that they might be carried;
+others leaned heavily on their companions. And they were dishevelled,
+with stubbly beards. But what struck me most was the deathly colour; for
+their faces were almost green, while round their sunken eyes were great
+white rings, and the white was ghastly, corpse-like. They trooped along
+in a dazed and listless fashion, wasted with fever, and now and then
+one stopped, shaken with a racking cough; he leaned against the wall,
+and put his hand to his heart as if the pain were unendurable. It was a
+pitiful sight. They were stunted and under-sized; they ceased to develop
+when they went to the cruel island, and they were puny creatures with
+hollow chests and thin powerless limbs; often, strangely enough, their
+faces had remained quite boyish. They were twenty or twenty-two, and
+they looked sixteen. And then, by the sight of those boys who had never
+known youth with its joyful flowers, doomed to a hopeless life, I was
+forced against my will to another moral. Perhaps some would recover, but
+the majority must drag on with ruined health, fever-stricken, dying one
+by one, falling like the unripe fruit of a rotten tree. They had no
+chance, poor wretches! They would return to their miserable homes; they
+could not work, and their people were too poor to keep them--so they
+must starve. Their lives were even shorter than those of the rest, and
+what pleasure had they had?
+
+And that is the result of the Spanish insouciance--death and corruption,
+loss of power and land and honour, the ruin of countless lives, and
+absolute decay. It is rather a bitter irony, isn't it? And now all they
+have left is their sunshine and the equanimity which nothing can
+disturb.
+
+Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. London & Edinburgh
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CASTILIAN DAYS. By Hon. J. HAY. Illustrated by JOSEPH PENNELL. In one
+vol., pott 4to, price 10s. net.
+
+ITALIAN JOURNEYS. By W. D. HOWELLS. Illustrated by JOSEPH PENNELL. In
+one vol., pott 4to, price 10s. net.
+
+A LITTLE TOUR IN FRANCE. By HENRY JAMES. Illustrated by JOSEPH PENNELL.
+In one vol., pott 4to, 10s. net.
+
+THE COUNTRY OF JESUS. By MATILDE SERAO. In one vol.
+
+LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
+21 BEDFORD STREET. W.C.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Land of The Blessed Virgin;
+Sketches and Impressions in Andalusia, by William Somerset Maugham
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IMPRESSIONS IN ANDALUSIA ***
+
+***** This file should be named 27252.txt or 27252.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/2/5/27252/
+
+Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/27252.zip b/27252.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2a463a9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27252.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2ac1f97
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #27252 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27252)